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Nanami watched from his car as Itadori stood at the doorstep of Gojo's house, knocking for a third time with no response. That dick, he thought, seriously didn't think to give him a key? Ever since his "death," the kid had been living in his sensei's guest room.
Itadori glances back nervously, locking eyes with Nanami through the windshield. The older man sighed, opening the driver's side door and stepping out into the gentle rain, walking up to the porch where the boy stood.
Nanami placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, saying nothing as he peered frustratedly into the house. Where the hell was Gojo? And why didn't he tell Itadori he wouldn't be home?
He gave Itadori a soft, reassuring glance, sighing as he pulled out his phone. He quickly dialed the white-haired man's number, bringing his phone up to his ear. It went to voicemail, and another call ended up the same.
Nanami gritted his teeth, sighing quietly. He turned to the increasingly nervous boy, a soft furrow between his brows.
"It's fine," Itadori began, his voice placating and quiet. "I-I'm sure he'll turn up, don't worry about it-"
"Bullshit. C'mon, kid, get back in the car," Nanami ordered sternly, turning back and beginning to walk. The boy hurried to catch up to him, the t-shirt he'd worn that day failing to protect well against the rain.
Once they'd entered the car again, Nanami shrugged off the jacket of his khaki suit, handing it to Itadori. When the boy looked at him, slightly confused, he said, "Go on, put it on. You're freezing, and you're dripping on my seats."
Itadori put the jacket on, inhaling the subtle, musky scent of Nanami's cologne. It was almost comforting, and he took a shaky breath.
"Where are we going, Nanamin?" he asked, the nickname slipping past his lips without a second thought. His wide brown eyes were nervous, the scars underneath him a constant reminder of the fact he's not supposed to be involved in this world, this fight. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"My flat. It's not far," he says quietly. "I'm not letting you wait in the rain for that idiot to remember he's taking care of a kid."
Itadori nodded, and he was still nervous, quieter than usual. He hated feeling like he was imposing on someone, Nanami knew. The furrow between his brows was still there, his hands fidgeting softly with the hem of his suit coat.
He sighed softly, trying to be more reassuring. He knew he came off as stern and serious, especially in comparison to the usually bubbly boy next to him.
"Don't worry about it, kid, I don't mind. I've got a nice guest room." After another thought, he looked over at Itadori. "What do you want for dinner?"
He seems to perk up a bit at the idea of food, and he lets out a breath, humming in contemplation. "I dunno. I'm not really picky," he shrugs.
Nanami continues driving, turning onto a side street as his windshield wipers clear the rain off the car. "I can make some rice, and I think I've got a bit of leftover chicken from yesterday. You okay with that, kid?"
Itadori nods with a soft smile, his mood lightening. They turn into a small parking garage underneath the nice apartment complex, Nanami parking the car and turning it off.
Once they enter the building, Itadori looks around at the pristine, ornate interior. His eyes are slightly widened, and Nanami takes notice of it.
"Bit above my pay grade, right?" he says dryly. "Being an office worker had its perks."
Itadori nodded, still taking it all in as they rise up the elevator. They eventually reach Nanami's door, and after the turn of a key, it swings open. Nanami removes his shoes at the door, Itadori following suit with his red high-tops, placing them next to his mentor's.
Nanami's brow furrows as he looks down at the state of Itadori's socks. They're practically threadbare, his toes sticking out of holes at the top. The boy notices his gaze.
"Oh, don't worry, Nanamin, they work just fine. I don't mind, promise," he says, a smile on his face.
Nanami stiffens, his face slightly frustrated. "You mean to tell me you've been living with Gojo for a month, and that idiot hasn't bought you some new goddamn socks?" he says, his voice stern.
Itadori's smile falls, looking more nervous. "Uh, no?" he says quietly. Nanami only sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He removes his glasses, setting them on the counter and walking into the hall. The flat is comfortable and homey, decorated in neutral, earthy tones, dark wood furnishings prevalent.
"C'mere," is the only order from Nanami's mouth, his jaw set. Itadori follows him through the hall and into his bedroom, glancing around at the dark gray duvet of his bed and the curtained window on the opposite wall. The man walks to a dark-wooded armoire, opening a bottom dresser and taking out one, two, three pairs of clean, folded socks.
He stands back up, pushing them into the boy's hands. "Itadori. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
Itadori, polite as ever, attempts to refuse, saying, "Nanamin, I'm fine- really, I'm fine-"
"Yuuji." The boy stops, his eyes flicking up to Nanami's and the hidden warmth and affection within them. Behind his gruff, serious exterior was a man who was likely too fond of Itadori for his own good.
Itadori just falls silent, swallowing his protests. After a moment, he gives his mentor a quiet, genuine "Thank you, Nanamin."
Nanami gives the boy a soft, slightly uncharacteristic smile.
"Don't worry about it, kid. It's what adults are here for."