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“Kugisaki, come on, my arms are killing me!”
“Shut it, I’ll never get this chance again! I need to make the most of it.”
Megumi blew a tired breath through his nose, resigned to waiting longer to finally get lunch. Kugisaki proudly flaunted the black card as if it were some grand victory to have found it; Satoru had left it out for Megumi since he’d be away that weekend instead of being normal and putting it in his room. She thought it was a grand heist and was making the absolute most of her luck, burdening Itadori with her ‘secret’ spoils.
He’d have gone on his own by now if he wasn’t sure to get caught and badgered by both his classmates for being no fun. He supposed it could be worse.
It could’ve been Nanako.
He rolled his neck to mask the shudder down his spine, pulling out his phone as the bickering grew louder. He slowly meandered further from the commotion; he could see a security officer eyeing them with increasing agitation. Megumi decided he was not getting thrown out with them if it got that far.From the corner of his eye, white contrasted a dark background; he turned to it, more out of instinct than any actual interest.
Wait, is that…?
Megumi veered closer and sure enough, and there he was: Gojo Satoru, sat in one of the more ritzy restaurants. The windows had tinted glass, but he knew that mop of white anywhere. Not that it was a mop, nor was it sticking out like a paintbrush as the man was wont to do, no matter how many stares Megumi had been forced to ignore over the latter over the years. It had been styled decently enough that he almost doubted his recognition, if not for the flashes of blue from above the more familiar blackout shades and the excited gesturing that caught as much attention as his looks. He was somewhat dressed up, those earrings Mimiko picked for him glinting while his oversized jacket falling off his shoulder as he gesticulated to his companion; something he would pointedly not be wearing on an overnight, out of the prefecture mission he’d left for that morning.
Megumi narrowed his eyes, suspicion and irritation rising. Satoru was a grown man, he could do what he wanted, hell, he did do whatever he wanted, regardless of whatever Megumi or anyone else had to say. So, given the penchant for being an unrepentant and free spirited nuisance, why the hell did Satoru feel the need to lie to him about his whereabouts? Satoru was many things (annoying, overbearing, embarrassing, clingy, obnoxious—) but he was rarely a liar.
Unless… he was on—
“Fushiguro?”
Megumi jolted, turning to the suddenly finally quiet pair who watched him with twin expressions of curiosity. Itadori was the one who called for him, his eyes roaming Megumi’s face with a touch of concern that had nothing to do with the warmth Megumi felt at the moment. Kugisaki, on the other hand, had taken stock of where Megumi had been looking as she gasped in horror.
“Oh shit! Gojo-senei’s here!”
She grabbed the card from her pocket and shoved it into Itadori's hand, who instantly began protesting, the two pushing the card back and forth in palpable panic. Megumi turned back to the restaurant window. Satoru had still yet to notice them, even as he paused his part of the conversation to listen to the one in front of him. Megumi's shoulders loosened a bit when he finally took notice of who it was.
Getou had always been a fine enough man; he was polite, he got along with Tsumiki well. Megumi would say it’s confusing how close he was to Satoru of all people if he were a liar; Getou was a shit stirrer, much like Satoru. He liked watching the twins torment Megumi, he teased Satoru enough that for once The Strongest was the one taken aback and helpless in a verbal back and forth, and shared that strange habit of tormenting Utahime-san. He was a good teacher at that, he filled in the gaps the prodigy clan head forgot to mention since he understood the experience of being a completely fresh face in the world of sorcery. Itadori had even gotten marginally better in his scores in jujutsu knowledge since he’d started sitting in with the first years.
Getou was now talking, more subdued but not any less enthusiastic. He was just as dressed up, taking Satoru’s hand over the table as the omega laughed at whatever he said.
Omega. It’s not that Megumi never thought of Satoru’s dynamic. The older man's scent lingered on him more than his own, as a result of how clingy he was. Satoru had even recently been pestering him about building a proper “grown up’s nest”. The man drew attention, even when he was wearing his stupid blindfold, he got flirted with by many, alphas especially drawn to the scent of benzoin and petrichor. The leers and comments irked Megumi, a fact that Satoru claimed to be ‘cute,’ cooing like Megumi was being a fussy baby for understanding the implications and ensuring Satoru was kept from things like that. The man was careless enough, he didn’t need lechers trying anything untoward.
Getou was an alpha. A good one, from what Megumi’s known of the last decade when he’d visit. Protective of what he considered his, a doting and indulgent father towards his daughters, someone Megumi respects and cares for as a part of his greater social bubble.
Getou raised Satoru’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the knuckle and Megumi felt his blood boil and a snarl take over his features. He barely registered the growl that tumbled from his chest and broke up his friends’ quibble, nor did he internalize himself marching into the restaurant, ignoring the hosts’ attempt to converse and approaching the table.
Megumi only truly inferred that Getou Suguru is a goddamned traitor and this situation needs to be rectified.
He heard them before he saw them for once. It’s not his fault! It’s completely reasonable to get preoccupied with a love interest, and it’s easy to forget to keep stock of everything if the guy you love like is being all charming and Suguru’s got his hair down and he’s wearing the gauges with the beta fish yin yang that Satoru had commissioned ages ago but hidden away because they’re cheesy but Suguru found and loved them anyway and—
It’s just easy to get distracted, see?!
He was caught in Suguru’s lips pressing against the back of his hands like he’s some delicate lady instead of a terrifying force of nature and his heart’s responding thuds, and he’d only got drawn out his stupor by the commotion. Satoru blinked as he tried to regain some level of composure, then out of the assumption that maybe, just this once, his Six Eyes were betraying him.
“Fushiguro, wait!”
“You’re gonna get m— us caught, you idiot!”
Nope.
No, he was seeing correctly. His face was red for a whole different reason now.
Gojo Satoru was a great many things: handsome, amazing, greatest of all time, the honoured one. He normally felt impervious to mortal qualms like societal niceties and ‘tact’.
That invincibility abandoned him, watching his boy and his friends crash his date. He winced as the pitchy growls of his still pup reached his ears, noting the furious expression.
He supposed this is what teenage rebels felt when they were caught breaking the rules. Suddenly, he wasn’t a grown man, but a teen girl watching her father catch her with a boy in her bedroom when she was supposed to be asleep. Except he wasn’t a naughty adolescent, he was the parent here, he shouldn’t be wilting into his seat like this. He should be sending Megumi on his way because he’s allowed to have a boyfriend!
“This isn’t Hokkaido,” Megumi snarled,and Satoru sputtered instead of telling the brat to mind his own business.
He’s a weak man. He really is. He’d long known of the boy’s possessive streak. It was hard not to notice the few times he entertained advances over the years, resulting in the suitors being pointedly rebuffed by his spiky, seething son. He’d been forced a few times to gaslight convince the few nonsorcerors that no, of course nothing bit you. There’s only us and the kids, no dogs here! You’re tired, maybe you should go home and rest. He should have reprimanded the boy, disciplined away the indignance and rage at the mere notion of Satoru committing the crime of ‘being a normal adult with a romantic life.’ He should have admonished him for being a little hellion.
But Satoru has always been weak to evidence that his prickly youngest actually does care. He’d thought it cute, adorable, and believed he’d grow out of that mile long mean streak towards potential stepparents. He was holding a torch, anyway. A torch that lit the way across the waves and shone on inky locks and striking salt-faced features that burnt for the way his name sounded like honey over long phone calls where they could manage it, for the sweets brought and guarded away from the hands of greedy little girls just for Satoru despite how ‘he should really eat better,’ for how seamlessly his best friend slotted back into his life during visits and later as a permanent fixture.
It wouldn’t work out with any of them, so he didn’t care. And now that lack of management was back to bite him in the ass.
“So it isn’t,” Satoru agreed nervously, trying to pull his hand from Suguru’s grasp. He shot a glare at the bastard when he failed to extract himself. The other only gave him a charming grin that Satoru would have seen right through without the Six Eyes; the fucker was enjoying this. He could feel the smug ‘I told you so’ in the squint of pretty golden hues. He turned back to the glowering teen and his accompanying confused classmates and felt cold sweat run down the back of his neck. “I thought you were staying in today.”
“Kugisaki found your card.”
The aforementioned girl squawked in affront and Satoru took notice of the many, many name-branded shopping bags hanging off Yuuji, and he half-wished he could laugh without losing his head. Of course, leave the mischief of teenagers to out his secret dealings. Megumi was seriously pissed if he was voluntarily signing himself up for an argument with Kugisaki Nobara. Satoru was so fucking dead.
He looked around frantically before he noticed the host wringing his hands behind their group. He smiled as charmingly as he could, and faster than the surrounding normies could track, he used blue to pull his card from Nobara’s person. “Hey, sorry for the commotion, could we get a private room?”
The man took a look at the shiny black and the agitation melted away as he nodded, ushering them away and snatching the card as politely as he could probably muster. He’s so going to get nagged by the elders for reckless spending.
Yuuji tried to keep his awestruck inspection of the fancy venue inconspicuous, but he could tell he’d failed in the amusement in the glance Geto-sensei sent his way. At least Kugisaki kept just as much interest in all the fixings and was more obvious about it. She made sure to pick the most expensive things on the menu the instant she recognized that Gojo-sensei wasn’t actually planning to reprimand them for running around with his card all day. He only asked for an extra serving of the ones he thought would taste best, knowing anything she ended up hating was ending on his plate. He glanced toward Fushiguro’s still silently fuming figure and skimmed the menu for something for him.
With Getou-sensei ordering for both himself and Gojo-sensei, the waiter left hastily. He was probably trying to escape the high note of burning ginger and rotting flowers. The tense silence only held for as long as the doors were open, and Yuuji’s jaw dropped as Fushiguro went to form the familiar shape that summoned his dogs
“Nope!” Gojo-sensei shot over the table, grabbing at Fushiguro’s hands and prying them apart.
Yuuji was too shellshocked to really register the combo of movements that put the squirming Fushiguro sideways in his mother’s lap, wrists held in his lap. Kugisaki seemed just as flabbergasted in his periphery, even if Getou-sensei seemed somehow unsurprised, if entertained.
Yuuji spent more time with his classmates than without after entering Jujutsu Tech. It’s as much a symptom of being in dorms as it was their frequent dances with death. They worked together as much as they butted heads, they stepped on each others toes with how Kugisaki always managed to use up all the hot water and how Fushiguro managed to leave the smell of something burning in the air more often than not and Yuuji evidently ‘hogged’ the television according to them. But they were learning how to be better sorcerers and people and adapt to each other, like how the boys slipped in the showers earlier since they didn’t mind earlier rises or how Fushiguro got that look of self satisfaction when Yuuji helped him learn a new recipe, deep blue eyes getting that gleam that Yuuji still got shit from Kugisaki for seeking. He was ‘pathetic’, she crows and Yuuji would remind her of her eyes on Maki-senpai which ends up with a rowe.
Where was he?
Yes, he’s seen much of his classmates, and with Kugisaki’s interests leading her toward a certain upperclassman, he saw a lot of Fushiguro specifically. He’s seen him in the heat of battle, determined and bloody and beautiful. He’s seen him annoyed with all of them and seen him sad and seen him with that little smile he allows when they make him happy.
He’s never seen this side of Fushiguro. The snarling anger was very much new.
“Umi~” Gojo-sensei cooed, rocking them both back and forth with big smile that was more shaky than the man probably intended to show. “It’s okay!”
“How long.”
The silence held.
“Satoru!”
“Fine! It’s been three months.”
Fushiguro tried to bite at their teacher who ducked out of the way.
“Come on, Megs, don’t be mad! Please, for me?” The man batted his lashes and Yuuji shook his head in pity. He wasn’t sure who he was pitying anymore. Maybe Sensei deserved this reaction for that alone. He caught Getou snickering and was thankful the mother and son were too preoccupied to notice it. Kugisaki glared at the man, mumbling that adults really are trash. Yuuji had to agree.
“You lied to me.”
That’s where Sensei’s smile faltered and he properly squeezed Fushiguro close, rubbing his cheek into the boy’s hair with a sigh, “I did, I’m sorry.”
Fushiguro huffed, looking away from his parent but from the way his scent got just tat bit less acrid, they could all tell the apology did lower his haunches, if only slightly.
…Cute.
“I thought you wouldn’t be as upset if it was Suguru,” Gojo-sensei continued. Said man perked up a bit at being referred to. “You always liked him!”
Fushiguro turned toward the man with narrowed eyes and Getou risked finally speaking up: “Hey, Megumi. It’s still me at the end of the day, even if Satoru and I are dating now.” His smile softened then, less amusement and more long held fondness from years of a bond that he’d definitely need to rely on now, “Still lame Suguru-oji, right?”
Fushiguro’s drawn up shoulders slowly lowered and Gojo-sensei released his hands then. The teen glared at the man across from him with less heat and hate but still turned his nose up at him, “Traitor.”
Getou-sensei wilted, hope of return to their presumably positive relationship instantly dashed and Yuuji tried to hold in his mirth, he really did, but Kugisaki did no such thing and he fell into laughter right alongside her. The small soap opera’s cast seemed to remember their existence then and Yuuji felt a bit bad seeing Fushiguro’s flustered face but he couldn’t help it.
A throat cleared behind them then and the waiter began setting out the small army’s worth of food they’d ordered. Yuuji had definitely underestimated the portions in this place, he thought fancy places always gave you little servings like in the movies. It at least smelt really good, and with the tension dwindling to something breathable, his stomach was rumbling fiercely.
Gojo-sensei clapped then: “Since we’re here, let’s have a meet the boyfriend dinner! From Suguru-oji to Papa— ow! Umi!”
Fushiguro huffed as he stood to sit beside their teacher, arms folded moodily. Yuuji took the seat next to him and bumped shoulders with him, giving a grin that seemed to thankfully help smooth out the creases of betrayal just a bit.