Work Text:
"Megumi, we've got an issue!" Itadori's cry crackled urgently through the speaker of Fushiguro's phone. He recoiled as if Itadori were yelling directly into his ear.
Itadori sounded so close to hysterics, so Fushiguro said, "Alright, calm down and tell me what happened." Before Itadori could reply, however, another voice shot through the phone.
"Give—Give my phone back!" Kugisaki exclaimed, along with emphatic grunting and a sound Fushiguro could only interpret as somebody getting slapped. A quiet 'oww' followed closely, and the angry voice tumbled through again. "Fushiguro, come to the location I sent you," she said tersely.
He opened his mouth to protest she hadn't sent him anything, but his phone buzzed dully in his hand. "Got it," he replied.
After rushing over to some odd laundromat on a random street corner, Fushiguro met with Itadori and Kugisaki. "Ok, will one of you tell me what's happening?" he said, out of breath and only slightly ticked off.
"This can of applesauce thought it would be funny to do Gojo's laundry without asking," Kugisaki spat. Itadori squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back, groaning.
"I already told you, I was trying to do him a favour!" he wailed. "Besides, who puts something that shouldn't be washed into their laundry basket?" Fushiguro laughed. That just sounded like something Gojo'd do.
Fushiguro was intrigued at this point, so he just had to ask, "What kind of something are we dealing with?"
He wasn't too worried anymore—definitely not so much as he was on his rush over here. From what he'd heard so far, he expected maybe a piece of paperwork, or possibly a wrapped candy bar had gotten tossed in: something that could be easily fixed.
"The something happens to be a $270 sweater," Kugisaki remarked. If Fushiguro was drinking water, he'd have spit it out on the spot.
"What..?" he said hoarsely. Kugisaki nodded. "Yep." She crossed her arms and shot a dirty glance at Itadori.
"Now I don't know what to do because Gojo's going to get so mad that I ruined his sweater and it's gonna be so bad and—" Itadori heaved an exaggerated breath in "—and I need your help, Megumi!"
"I… don't know what to do, but I could try to think of something." Fushiguro was trying not to panic himself, and the best thing he knew to do came from some piece of advice that Nanami had given him. If you speak calmly, everyone around you will be calmer as a result. He figured it was worth a shot.
"First, what does the sweater look like now?" he asked. Grasping the basket sadly, Itadori fished through the pile and pulled out a comically small green sweater and frowned. Fushiguro's breath caught as he saw. "You can laugh, it's fine," he lamented, staring off to the side and sniffling dramatically.
"It's—" Fushiguro genuinely had no clue what to say. "Uhh."
Kugisaki commented, "If Gojo was still five, he might fit it." She was still just as snide as ever, even in a crisis like this. Itadori tossed the sweater back into the basket at his feet. "He was probably a freakishly tall five-year old, so not even little Gojo could've fit this sweater!" he wailed, helpless and pitiful.
Fushiguro wanted to help—he truly did. But all he could think about was the vivid picture of a four foot tall, five-year old Gojo strutting around in what was probably a designer sweater just a bit too small for him. He had to press his hand to his mouth to stop himself from snickering at that one-of-a-kind mental picture.
"Maybe you could summon your demon dogs?" Itadori suggested, grasping the laundry basket eagerly and staring at Fushiguro. Though it was the only idea they'd come up with, he really didn't think summoning his dogs was a good idea. They were the only ones in the laundromat at the moment, but he'd rather not chance having a civilian see. "Not in here," he reminded, glancing out the window.
Kugisaki sighed. "What would they do, anyways?" she asked. Itadori looked at her, wide eyed in shock. "We'd put the sweater on one of them, obviously?" he replied.
"And here I thought you were all about fashion," Itadori muttered offhandedly.
Her jaw dropping, Kugisaki scoffed, "Excuse me? I know more about fashion than you do, genius." Itadori rolled his eyes. "Then tell me why we can't put Megumi's dog in the sweater," he challenged.
"Because," she began, tilting her head snidely, "Gojo would totally notice his beloved sweater if one of the dogs was prancing around while wearing it!"
"Good point," he resigned, folding his hands and resting his chin on them. Almost immediately he shot up, shouting, "You could just ask them to eat the sweater!" Kugisaki cackled.
"That's the first intelligent thing you've said today, Itadori," she crowed, giving him a high five.
"They don't eat sweaters, Yuuji," Fushiguro mumbled, hoping Itadori wouldn't take it too hard. "Oh, I see," he said, going back to thinking some more. "Not even if we season it?"
For dogs who ate curses, it would seem plausible for them to devour some clothing. But even so, Fushiguro wasn't convinced they'd so much as lick the sweater. "I don't think that would work..."
"What kinds of seasonings do you think your dogs would like?" Kugisaki blared, grinning.
Itadori perked up at this question. "Ooh, ooh! Don't tell me, is it…" he pressed a finger to his temple and stuck his tongue out, humming as he thought. "Everything bagel seasoning!! That's gotta be it!"
"No…"
Kugisaki huffed, “Of course it’s not everything bagel seasoning! Dogs can’t even have onion or garlic.” Fushiguro truly couldn’t say when this went wrong, but he wished they'd stop discussing such a trivial thing.
“Alright then, since you’re so all-knowing, what seasonings do the dogs like?” Itadori asked pointedly.
“Well, I bet they’re dogs of good taste, so they might like parmesan.” She folded her arms and pressed her mouth into a sassy pout.
Itadori bit back a smug laugh. “Parmesan’s a cheese, not a seasoning!”
Kugisaki stuck her tongue out at him, and he stuck his tongue out in retaliation. From where Fushiguro was standing, it looked like they might get into a fistfight if he didn’t do something quickly.
“Can you guys please stop for a moment?” Fushiguro blurted. They fell silent, staring blankly at him. “I have an idea that might just work.” He lied. He had no idea—he just wanted them to stop arguing.
Kugisaki waved her hand expectantly in his direction, but he stayed silent. “Tell us."
He couldn't leave them hanging like that, so he blurted the first thing that came to mind: “We could just buy Gojo a new sweater.” It was simultaneously the most obvious and least attainable answer, but Fushiguro was getting desperate.
“Yeah, but which of us has $270 lying around?” Kugisaki asked.
“I certainly don’t,” Itadori assented. That checks out, Fushiguro thought.
“Yeah, ‘cause you spend it all on stupid stuff,” Kugisaki scoffed.
Fushiguro didn’t want to let this get off the rails again, so he cut in before Itadori could respond. “It doesn’t have to be an expensive sweater.”
Kugisaki hummed, taking his words into consideration. “He’s gonna notice that, though.”
“But do we have to buy the same sweater we shrunk?” Itadori asked. Kugisaki gasped. “Not we, you. You shrunk the sweater,” she said, offended.
“Alright, fine. The same sweater I shrunk,” he admitted. “Happy now?” Itadori narrowed his eyes at her. She narrowed her eyes back at him, “Yes, very much so.”
“You could be onto something there…” Fushiguro mused, ignoring their arguing completely and continuing to work with Itadori's earlier idea.
That was it. "If we buy Gojo a new sweater, he may just forget about the other one," he said. With how enthusiastically Itadori jumped up, it was a wonder the laundry didn't end up on the floor. "That's genius!" he shouted.
"Great, there's a store down the street that might have something," Kugisaki said, tapping a couple times at her phone screen. She turned it toward Fushiguro, revealing a colourful image of a department store.
"Sure, that works," he shrugged. It was the best shot they had, so they might as well try.
As Itadori hauled the basket up effortlessly, they all walked to the door. Just as she laid a hand on the door's handle, she stopped dead in her tracks. Fushiguro staggered back so he didn't run into her.
Hurriedly, she turned back and pushed Itadori. He fell to the floor, clothes tumbling from the basket and landing in an untidy circle around him.
"What was that for?" he whined, rubbing his shoulder. He was really feeling the full force of Kugisaki's wrath today, wasn't he? This time it didn't even seem justified.
Fushiguro crouched down to help Itadori and set the clothes back into the upturned basket. The moment he grabbed a handful of scattered socks was the moment he heard it.
The laundromat's bell made a harmless 'ding,' and Gojo was suddenly there, swaggering through the door like he owned the place. Why was he here?
Fushiguro threw neatness out the window, shoving the clothes haphazardly into the basket. The horrendous shrunken green sweater was still lying out in the open, and he snatched it up without a second thought, burying it under the rest of the pile.
With the last of the clothes gathered, Fushiguro slid the basket away forcefully, hoping it would buy them some time. He lost his balance and fell onto Itadori's lap, his eyes widening and a frantic flush spreading across his face. He planted his hands on the ground as quickly as he could so he could turn to see what Gojo was doing.
"Well, well. What are my favourite students doing here?" Gojo slid his 'casual glasses' down the bridge of his nose, peering playfully over the lenses.
Itadori started to explain, "I was—"
"Nothing," Kugisaki cut him off insistently, giving him a sharp glance. Gojo craned his neck to see where Fushiguro and Itadori were still huddled on the floor.
"And what are they doing down there?" he asked. He clearly knew something was up.
Their guilty, deer-in-headlights expressions certainly didn't help their case.
"Nothing," Kugisaki urged yet again. She leaned against a washing machine coolly and was now wearing an unconvincing smile.
"Hey, I'm not judging," he shrugged, brushing it off. "I had a friend in high school and we'd 'do laundry' together." Picking himself up from where he'd fallen, Fushiguro glanced at Itadori incredulously. Their eyes met, daring each other not to laugh.
"Never mind that, what are you doing here?" Kugisaki asked, now staring gravely at Gojo. Fushiguro just hoped whatever plan she had would work.
"Well, ah. See, I was about to do my laundry when I realized I couldn't find it in my room," he explained, sliding his glasses back up.
Itadori chimed in quietly, "That's because—" Kugisaki turned back and kicked him, effectively shutting him up. Gojo didn't acknowledge he'd said anything, much less the fact he was now wincing and cradling his leg.
"Then I thought, oh! Maybe I already started it and just forgot about it." He took a emphatic breath in and gestured his hands out. "So, now I'm here."
"Unfortunately," Kugisaki uttered through her teeth. She started tapping her foot, glancing back to where Fushiguro and Itadori were still sitting stagnant on the floor. She urgently mouthed "Do something," before she turned back to flash Gojo another fake smile. Fushiguro narrowed his eyes snottily at her and stood.
He scrambled to come up with something he could say to get Gojo out of the building. Asking Gojo to take him to his favourite ice cream shop would be a bit too suspicious, he decided. And with that, he was fresh out of ideas.
"What's in that basket over there?" Gojo asked casually. Itadori squeezed his eyes shut, and a guilty blush spread over his face. Thankfully, he'd learned not to say anything or chance getting kicked again.
Damn it.
Kugisaki threw her hands out in front of her, attempting to ward off an already curious Gojo. "It's mine!" she squawked. "And don't look because there are… bras! Yeah, that's it."
Fushiguro laid a resigned hand over his forehead. Out of all the things she could've said. Gojo immediately stopped peering at the basket.
"Sorry 'bout that. I'm pretty sure I saw some of my shirts, though," Gojo said. Of course he saw through that excuse. Double damn it.
"Fine, it's yours," she admitted. Her shoulders sank and she muttered a curse.
Itadori flailed his arms at his seat next to a washing machine. "Respect a lady's laundry, Gojo!" That was somehow even dumber than what Kugisaki said, especially since it didn't matter now. Fushiguro forced himself to bite back a sardonic laugh.
But, yet again, Itadori was overlooked by Gojo, who'd opted for placing both of his hands over his chest and widening his eyes softly. "Wait, I know what this is now!" he said.
"No!" Kugisaki blurted, taking a steadying breath in and continuing, "No, you don't." Fushiguro had gone stock still, hoping that Gojo—in all his idiocy—truly didn't know what this was.
"You guys wanted to surprise me by doing my laundry!" Gojo exclaimed, wiping away a tear that wasn't even there and sniffling loudly. Fushiguro immediately let out a relieved sigh, then realized that sigh was not justified. Gojo was still trying to get to the laundry, and that could not happen.
"Would you mind if I grabbed something? I need it for a party later," Gojo asked. This was insane.
Fushiguro still had time to get out of this. He could tell Gojo he'd just gotten there and knew nothing about the sweater. It was somewhat true, after all.
"How about I get it for you?" Kugisaki suggested, taking a flinching step back. Gojo simply reached out and patted her on the shoulder.
"It's alright! You guys have helped me enough," he smiled, walking past Kugisaki to get to the basket. There was nothing they could do as Gojo crouched down and scrutinized the mess of socks sprinkled over top of the laundry.
They all froze up. With Gojo rifling carelessly through the clothes at the top of the basket, an ominous chill ran through the building. It very well could've been a draft from behind the wall, but that didn't matter.
Fushiguro noticed Itadori and Kugisaki make eye contact. Itadori was helplessly shaking his head, but Kugisaki was nodding placatingly.
After spending so many agonizing seconds of rifling, Gojo turned to them and unobtrusively popped the question they'd been dreading.
"Have any of you guys seen my green sweater?" They weren't getting out of this one. Kugisaki and Itadori locked eyes again, and Itadori was the one to nod this time.
"FUSHIGURO'S DOGS ATE IT!!"