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The briefing room felt like it had been built specifically to irritate Gojo Satoru. The chairs were comically tiny, meant for normal-sized people, and the walls were a bland beige that sucked the joy right out of the air. To top it all off, an old clan head with a wispy beard was smiling far too warmly at Utahime, his eyes crinkling with a fondness that Gojo found offensive.
Gojo slouched back in the ridiculously small seat anyway, his long legs sprawling out into the aisle as if he owned the place. Technically, he didn’t - but he was confident that was just a matter of time. The only thing in the room that held any real value for him was the woman sitting beside him, her focus entirely on the task at hand as she took notes like a model adult.
His wife.
His actual, legal, documented, and impossibly patient wife.
And the clan head, some old fossil who probably remembered the Heian era, had not stopped showering her with compliments for the past ten solid minutes.
“Such precision in your previous report, Utahime-san. Truly admirable. The younger generation could learn from your discipline,” the man said, his voice dripping with genuine appreciation.
Utahime offered a polite bow. “Thank you.”
Gojo felt his eye give an involuntary twitch. Admiring her was his job. Complimenting her was also his job. Staring at her for that long with such soft, grandfatherly eyes? Absolutely, one hundred percent, not his job.
Why is he smiling so much? Gojo’s thoughts grumbled. That is too many teeth for a man his age. He should be napping, not beaming. Stop it. Shoo.
Instead of shooing, the old man continued, completely oblivious to the crisis he was causing. “Your technique will be crucial for stabilizing the barrier tomorrow. I trust you’ll lead the support team flawlessly.”
She gave another graceful nod, all modesty and grace.
Gojo’s brain supplied a running commentary: No. Stop nodding. He likes the nodding. Utahime, cease nodding immediately. This is encouraging him.
He decided to take action. Casually, he leaned forward, sliding his hand along the back of her chair. He inched closer and closer until his fingertips finally made contact with the curve of her waist. She stiffened, shooting him a sharp side-eyed glare, but she didn’t shove his hand away. He mentally chalked it up as a significant victory.
The clan head droned on about cursed spirit manifestations and energy signatures, but Gojo had stopped listening somewhere around the first mention of "precision." His entire focus was now locked on how the fossil kept directing every single comment and looked directly at her.
He tilted his head, leaning down close to her ear so his voice was a whisper. “Utaaa… tell him we’re very married.”
She didn’t even glance his way, muttering under her breath, “Stop acting like a child.”
From somewhere behind them, Nanami let out one of his signature exhausted, fully-living-in-regret sighs. “Keep personal matters out of professional spaces,” he intoned in that funeral-director voice of his.
Gojo cheerfully ignored all three of them.
The clan head cleared his throat, attempting to regain control of the meeting. “Gojo-san, do you have any input on the western perimeter - ?”
“Yup,” Gojo cut in, his voice bright and sunny. “My wife will handle it. Because she’s brilliant. And my wife. Did I mention that part? That she is my wife?”
Utahime squeezed her eyes shut, as if she were silently counting to ten, or perhaps one hundred.
Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose with enough force to suggest a budding migraine. “Yes, Gojo. We are all painfully aware.”
But Gojo wasn’t done. He wasn't even close to being done.
The clan head looked mildly amused by the entire display, which, in Gojo’s opinion, was still one emotion too many being aimed directly at Utahime.
He leaned in again. “Princess… he’s smiling at you again.”
“He’s being polite,” she hissed back through gritted teeth.
“No, he’s being suspicious. I can tell,” Gojo insisted in a whisper. “His aura is… overwhelmingly elderly, but also deeply suspicious.”
The old man gave a light cough. “Your teamwork is… very strong, I see.”
Gojo flashed the kind of megawatt smile that had, on occasion, ended wars and blinded lesser curses. “Oh, we’re extremely strong. Emotionally. Romantically. Legally. Spiritually. Tax-wise. It’s a whole package deal.”
Nanami looked directly at the wall, his expression one of a man who desperately wanted to walk into oncoming traffic.
The clan head blinked slowly, processing this information. “Right… well, if there are no further questions - ”
Gojo shot his hand into the air, waving it with gusto. “Yes, I have one. Can you please stop praising my wife? It’s starting to make me feel uncomfortable.”
Utahime’s voice dropped to a razor-sharp whisper. “Satoru.”
He held up both hands in a gesture of feigned innocence. “What? I’m just expressing my feelings. Isn’t open marital communication a pillar of a healthy relationship?”
From the corner, Nanami muttered, “I regret ever accepting employment at this school.”
The meeting mercifully, came to an end. As everyone began to disperse, Utahime moved with a decisive fury. She grabbed Gojo by the sleeve and yanked him into the hallway with enough force to drag a lesser man straight off his feet.
She glared up at him, her eyes blazing. “What was that?”
Gojo blinked down at her, his expression unapologetic. “That was me being supportive.”
“That was not supportive. That was a public spectacle.”
“It was supportive for me,” he clarified, sliding his arms around her waist with zero shame now that they were alone. “You’re too pretty. People look. I get annoyed. It’s simple math, really.”
“You’re jealous of a man three times your age.”
“I said annoyed,” he corrected, leaning down until his forehead brushed gently against hers. “I’m very… very annoyed.”
She let out an exasperated sigh, but her hands, which had come to rest on his chest, didn’t make any move to push him away. “You need to grow up.”
He pressed a soft, quick kiss to her temple, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Nope. I’m your problem for life now.”
She rolled her eyes, but a reluctant smile threatened the corner of her mouth. “How unfortunate for me.”
He tightened his hold, feeling smug and delighted. “Extremely unfortunate.”
And he walked her down the hall just like that - his arms wrapped firmly around her, his chin resting on her shoulder - because if he had to share her brilliance with the entire jujutsu world, then she was at the very least going to stay firmly within his touching distance. That was the compromise.
Well… it was his compromise.
Which, of course, meant she had no say in it whatsoever.