Chapter Text
ONESHOT ONE: Quotes
Scalding water pours down Suguru's shut eyelids, trailing to catch on his lip. The soothing rhythm of droplets splashing against his face lull him into a peaceful state of calmness, the warm water embracing him in an ocean of comfort.
*Finally I get a break-*.
Knocks pound against the door.
Suguru groans, his dreamful state cruelly torn away from him all too soon.
"SUGURU!" His roommates knocks pound for no reason other than to make as much noise as possible, he didn't make any move to open the door, resorting to yelling through the wood. Being a nuisance was Satoru's specialty, after all.
"I GOT FOOD! ACTUAL GOOD FOOD! UNLIKE THE TASTELESS STUFF YOU MAKE!”
Suguru's eye twitches at the comment. “I MAKE VERY GOOD FOOD, EXCUSE YOU!” He yells over the showerhead. “MY MISO SOUP COULD WIN AWARDS IF NOT FOR YOUR BARBARIC TASTE BUDS!”
No one speaks for a moment, the silence filled by running water and Satoru's audible anticipation. Suguru scoffs in annoyance, already envisioning the smug grin on Satoru's face before the question even leaves his lips.
“WHAT FOOD DID YOU BUY?”
Satoru answers with a satisfied cackle.
“Ramennn!” His voice is buttery, enticing. "NOW SHOWER FASTER!" And with that, Satoru's footsteps retreated.
–
"Alright so.." Satoru mumbles to himself as he tosses the dry ramen packets into a pot of bubbling water.
He shovels whatever crumbs of dry noodles had fallen from the packet into his mouth, crunchy under his teeth.
He figures he'll wait for Suguru to whip up whatever magical seasoning combinations he always managed to. After all, Suguru has always been the better cook between the two of them, though Satoru naturally isn't too bad himself.
So, Satoru collapses on their couch with a huff. Their dorm isn't anything impressive, the kitchen and the living room conjoined, the living room being nothing more than a tv and a couch in a closed off section of the kitchen. Large windows panel the walls, city lights dancing across Satoru's cheeks.
He mindlessly sifts through channels, eyes occasionally straying to the stove as he grows impatient.
*Boring, boring, already seen it, boring-*
The bathroom door opens and Suguru steps out, towel hooked loosely around his waist.
Satoru swallows roughly. His cheeks heat as his eyes stayed glued to Suguru's dripping chest. *Damn.*
Suguru raises a brow at Satoru's flustered state, a subtle smile tugging at his lips as he saunters over to the stove. His damp hair rhythmically drips onto the countertop. Satoru's eyes burn a hole through his side.
“See something you like?”
Satoru huffs, eyes still inadvertently trailing the others’ form. *Hot.*
"Oh shut *up*, you egomaniac." He stands, ambling toward the stove, a warmth in his stomach.
Suguru curiously lifted the pot cap, grabbing a stray fork to scoop a noodle out and bite into it, humming.
"Al dente."
"Don't use your fancy cooking language."
Suguru turns towards him, expression deadpan.
"You don't know what 'al dente" means?"
"Fuck no."
Suguru makes a face. "Course you don't." He strides over to his bedroom door. "I'm gonna get changed, make sure you don't burn this dorm down because my college fund is NOT gonna cover it.”
“Yeah yeah.” Satoru scoffs, eyes still glued to the other as he watches him walk off. “I can handle a pot of water without causing Armageddon, y'know!?”
Suguru rolls his eyes, shutting the door to his room to change. No matter how much Satoru could piss him off at times, he finds himself thinking of evenings like this as.. nice. Comfortable. Among all the missions they had to do.
A yelp from the kitchen interrupts his thoughts.
Suguru smiles warmly, though he'd never acknowledge it.
Meanwhile, Satoru is burying his burning face in his hands, cursing Suguru's entire lineage under his breath. *The fuck is wrong with me…*
His limbs tingle. The warmth on his cheeks only grows at the torturous memory of Suguru's easy smile, of his toned figure, of his soft hair.
*Oh how I wish I could trail my hands down that chest-*
Satoru leans back on the counter, chest heaving with a sigh. *Stop it.*
Suguru tosses a shirt over his shoulders before returning to the kitchen. *Let's see if our stove's exploded yet..*
Black sweatpants hug his legs, a gruffy old band t-shirt falling loosely across his torso. Water occasionally wets the fabric clinging to his shoulders, dripping from his damp, untied hair.
Satoru's gaze lingers a moment too long, face red.
Suguru snickers and approaches him, gently manuevering the chopsticks from Satoru's hands into his own to check on their food. Because someone had to, and Satoru clearly wasn't fit for the job.
“Gay ass.”
Satoru scoffs, snapping out of it. “I’m not gay. And I'm not staring at you. I'm just..appreciating aesthetics.”
"Good to know you appreciate my 'aesthetic'." Suguru teases, clicking off the stove and approaching the sink to halfway drain the water from the cooked noodles.
Satoru's irritation grows at Suguru's smugness. *This guy..*
“Tch. Yeah, the wet rat aesthetic.” He threateningly points a chopstick at him. “The ‘I just rolled out of bed but also somehow got hotter’ aesthetic.”
*Shit.*
Satoru mentally curses himself.
“I didn't- I'm not- you're not hot!”
Suguru chuckles, the sound sugary. Their usual bickering feels softer in the confines of this kitchen, in a weird way.
His cheeks grow unnoticeably pink at the comment, but he brushes it off. "We get it. You're obsessed with me.”
“Obsessed!?” He splutters, even more flustered at Suguru's calmness. “That's it. I'm moving in with Shoko!”
"More ramen for me then." Suguru huffs, hands busying themselves with seasoning packets as his eyes offer Satoru a malicious look.
“I hope you choke on them.”
Suguru snorts.
"I'm wounded, Satoru. Just for that I'm dropping the full spice packet in yours."
He smiles innocently, hands carelessly pouring the dark red, downright black, sauce over Satoru's portion. Satoru's eye twitches. He turns to glare at Suguru.
“I will flip this table.”
Suguru shrugs, turning to season his own portion.
*Great.* Satoru approaches Suguru's side and twirls the spice-bombed ramen on his chopsticks, shoving a cautious bite into his mouth. He can feel Suguru watching him out in the corner of his vision.
*This isn't that bad-*
Satoru stops mid-chew.
"Good god-” He breaks into a fit of coughs. He forces the bite to go down his throat before frantically reaching for a glass and flinging himself towards the sink.
Suguru roars with laughter at the sight before him, watching the other chug sink water.
"You have the spice tolerance of a white girl." He cackles, turning away from Satoru to the bowls.
While Satoru is busy coughing his lungs up, Suguru portions his roommates favorite seasonings (which he knows by heart by now), dumping them into the bowl before him. When he's done, his hands switch the bowls.
Satoru glares at his roommate with fatality.
Suguru rolls his eyes at his dramatics, beginning to stride over towards the couch, cradling the spice-bombed ramen in his hands.
A mix of gratitude and annoyance swells in Satoru's chest as he notices Suguru swap their bowls. Still coughing, he lets out a disgruntled mumble. “Bitch..”
Nonetheless, Satoru grabs his portion and follows Suguru to their couch, sinking into the cushions, bowl carefully balanced on his lap. He huffs a small ‘thanks.’
"The only reason I'm having mercy is because I don't want to deal with manslaughter charges." Suguru- says through bites of his food, remote in his hand to mindlessly filter through channels.
Satoru shoots him a glare. “How generous of you.”
The plethora of television programmes sound through their living room, hundreds of them available yet not one captures either of their attention.
The chopsticks in his free hand move to shove sticky ramen into his mouth, purposefully overcooked. Suguru prefers his ramen al dente yet his roommate likes it sticky, so he pretends to share the same opinion. *Friendly compromise.*
“There's nothing good to watch..” Satoru drawls. Suguru knows that tone. He deflects.
“If you're so starved of entertainment I could take my shirt off. It seemed pretty ‘good to watch’ to you before, no?”
Satoru bites his tongue, cheeks flushing at the mental image the words bring. “I've stared at your ugly mug enough.”
Suguru huffs a laugh, before tossing the remote. Satoru catches it effortlessly. "I'll find something." He sighs. Suguru eyes him tentatively, causing that weird tingle in Satoru's stomach again.
Silence stretches over the pair for a minute or two as they both comfortably resort to savouring their respective bowls of food, Satoru busying himself with sifting through tv channels. Suguru keeps his eyes on his food, though they occasionally jump to the other, the disheveled state of him in pajamas oddly.. pretty. *Yeah, pretty does it.*
Satoru sighs, turning to his roommate as the remote goes still in his hand, a pleading look in his eyes.
"Suguru-"
"No." Suguru knows that look.
"There's nothing else to watch!"
"Find something."
"I tried!"
"Try harder." Suguru slurps a bite of ramen, dismissing the other. Satoru leans closer to him, their legs gluing together. "Pleaseeee." He whines, pouting up at Suguru.
“Ugh- you're disgusting. Quit the puppy eyes, they won't work on me.”
Satoru flutters his eyelashes.
Suguru tears his eyes away with a disgruntled sigh. “No.”
"You don't have any better ideas!" Satoru retorts. "C'mon, Sug'. Just one more rewatch."
"Tch." Suguru casts a glance at Satori, who's still staring up at him with sparkly crystal blue eyes, their effect hypnotizing without the shielding effects of his shades, yet Suguru isn't affected. He's grown used to Satoru's six-eyes. It's the pout that affects him more.
He shovels another bite of food into his mouth, sighing in resignation.
"Ffffine."
"YESSS!" Satoru jumps back, fingers instantly buttoning away. Suguru huffs in slight amusement, though the sight is pretty endearing.
In less than half a minute, the 'Howls Moving Castle' title screen is blinding them both, for possibly the 20th time. Satoru jumps off the couch and begins running around, shutting any lights and grabbing a tossed aside blanket to haul over to the couch.
He sets his now empty bowl on the coffee stand, sinking into the couch beside Suguru, his legs curling at Suguru's side, his head resting against the armrest as he smiles childishly.
Suguru eyes him fondly, pulling the blanket across his own legs and taking another bite of his food.
Satoru doesn't seem to take notice of anything more than the tv screen.
As much as Suguru would never admit it, he secretly enjoys this movie almost as much as Satoru does (though that is a pretty impossible feat.)
Suguru isn't a big rewatcher (unlike his roommate), but the movie serves as a sweet reminder of nights like this, where Satoru would pester until Suguru eventually caved, because he always did when it came to him.
Satoru shifts, sitting upright on his side of the couch for a few seconds. "This couch sucks." He grumbles, shifting closer to Suguru and letting his head fall onto his shoulder, strands of white hair grazing his jaw.
Without a second thought, Suguru moves his arm, allowing Satoru to fall against his side. His fingers come up to softly hold Satoru's shoulder, arm wrapped around his upper back.
“You usin’ me as a human pillow now?”
"You make a great pillow, Sug'. You gotta be useful for one thing at least." Satoru teases, watching Suguru idly set his empty plate down with his free arm.
Satoru watches his roommate settle back in, taking the opportunity, like he always does. Casually, he slides from Suguru's shoulder, moving so his head falls in his lap, lanky legs spread out over the rest of the couch. White hair frames his face in a halo-like motion as he stares up at Suguru's pink face for a tender moment, before shifting on his side to face the television, watching the colorful scenes unfold.
Suguru doesn't ponder on the action, replying with a sigh and a half-hearted: “You're such a nuisance.”
"Shut up and watch this masterpiece." Satoru grumbles, focus zoned in on the movie. Suguru's hands begin to softly rake through his hair, drawing a soft hum from Satoru as they both fall into a comfortable silence, letting the dialogue coming from the tv screen fill the dark room.
“Tch. Masterpiece.” Suguru mutters under his breath. “You only say that because you cry every time.”
"I can't help it! They love each other so much.." Satoru sniffles. Suguru chuckles, the sound audibly fond, which he makes up for with an exasperated huff. "This might be the biggest blackmail I have on you. Should I tell the whole school the great Satoru Gojo cries at animated kids movies..?"
"It's so much more than a kids movie and you know it!"
Suguru laughs at Satoru's genuine annoyance. "As you never fail to remind me.”
They watch in quiet bliss before Satoru breaks it again, speaking in tandem with tv-screen Howl. “‘There you are, sweetheart. Sorry I'm late. I was looking everywhere for-’”
“If one more quote leaves your mouth I'm putting on Titanic.”
Satoru shut it, the rest of his sentence echoing from the TV.
"Please don't." Satoru speaks with genuine dread in his voice. "I can't go through that again."
Suguru snickers. The memory of Satoru sobbing like a baby back when the two of them and Shoko had watched the movie as first years has a soft smile grazing his lips.
Despite this tough exterior, Satoru really was nothing but a sap.
Silence coats the room, the boy in his lap falling into an exhausted branch of attentiveness, Suguru following. The domestic nature of it all lulls him to sleep, the occasional shift of Satoru against his legs keeping him awake for nothing other than to savour their closeness for a moment more.
Suguru's eyes flutter shut, unable to fight exhaustion any longer, his body succumbing to the effects of today's earlier mission. His heart swells in the tender moment.
The half-awake boy in his lap is barely keeping his eyes open yet still mumbling along to the movie, half-heartedly spouting quotes every now and then.
Quotes Suguru had long ago committed to memory, for Satoru. But Satoru would never know that.
Suguru's hands go slack in his hair as sleep overtakes him.
A soft sigh leaves Satoru. He flips onto his back, head twisting to gaze up at Suguru. It is in quiet moments like these that Satoru acknowledges what his brain tells him not to.
His lips raise into a tired smile. Everything inside Satoru turns warm and fuzzy at the sight above him. Suguru’s eyes are shut, his head loosely leaning back against the headrest.
A hand is slack at his side, another still in Satoru's hair, fingers unconsciously ruffling it. The light from the television dances across his features and slides across his dark hair, untied and unkempt.
Eyes glued to Suguru like he's the last thing left on earth, Satoru loosely intertwines their fingers.
His lips move to quote Howl as the wizard on TV speaks.
“‘I’ve finally found someone I want to protect.’”
His voice is a whisper, words blending together with Howl's as they speak in synch.
“‘You.’”
Suguru's fingers dreamfully tighten around his own.