Chapter Text
There’s a cat sitting on a low wall, regarding the world like royalty, bored out of their mind with all their subjects. You stop walking without warning and immediately crouch down, feeling the leather strap of your bag slide off your shoulder, but you don’t care because your attention gets completely rerouted, like the rest of the world has ceased to exist, and you have absolutely nowhere else to be.
It’s a mottled grey tabby, broad, looks elderly and deeply unimpressed with the entire concept of the universe. But somehow, it has decided you are an acceptable company, and you take it very seriously.
Sukuna stands a few steps away with his hands loosely in his pockets, already resigned to the fact that this is just who you are. You see a cat, and you stop functioning.
He can’t help but watch you with a mix of exasperation and a bit of amusement that’s almost close to fondness, mostly because you look so stupidly happy, and that tends to completely override anything else he might think about your sudden, public abandonment of him.
You’re absolutely thrilled when the cat, after a moment of intense, green-eyed staring, allows you to gently extend a finger and touch it. You instantly start a non-stop, ridiculous stream of mushy nonsense, completely forgetting you're technically in public. When it headbutts your hand with surprising force, you burst out laughing, like this might be the best moment of your day. In fact, it probably is, judging by the bright smile on your face.
This is, of course, the exact moment when a stunning woman decides that today is her day, and Sukuna is the ultimate jackpot. Her eyes quickly scan his physique, the imposing height and the lines of his tattoos, like she’s already mentally rearranging her life to make him the centrepiece of it.
Clearly, she likes what she sees, and misinterpreting his relaxed, nonchalant posture as availability, she saunters up to him with a bold confidence that’s kinda admirable because it takes guts, but in this specific situation, it’s deeply, deeply misguided.
“Well, hello, handsome,” she practically purrs, tilting her head smoothly like she’s already got him. “You look far too interesting to be standing here by yourself.”
Sukuna doesn’t even glance at her, keeping his eyes glued to you crouching on the pavement, scratching a grumpy-looking stray cat behind the ear like it’s your actual job. Your shoulders shake when you start giggling again, and he just watches the curve of your cheek and the shape of your smile, not offering the woman even the slightest bit of his attention.
"Hey," she tries again, moving closer and smiling at him brightly, but it’s obvious she’s surprised by his silence. “You’re going to make me work for it, aren’t you?”
“Not interested,” he responds bluntly, sounding more bored than anything else. He wouldn’t have bothered answering at all if she hadn’t crossed that invisible line and stepped directly into his space.
Then, as her perfectly sculpted brows lift in offence, Sukuna finally grants her the smallest fraction of his attention. He gives her a brief and unimpressed glance, a look he usually reserves for minor inconveniences.
Instead of pointing or turning fully toward her, he merely tips his chin toward the space past her shoulder, as though even the effort of gesturing properly would be giving her too much.
“That one’s mine.”
The woman turns, and what she finds is not what she was expecting.
Her eyes land on you, crouched in an oversized, slightly faded hoodie, with messy hair from the wind and your bag nearly dropping on the dirty pavement, completely oblivious to what’s happening. She watches you for a few seconds, and then she scoffs with open, patronising judgment.
“Really?” she asks in blatant disbelief. “You could do so much better.”
He lets out a slow, almost audibly patient breath, like he’s about to explain that fire is hot to a remarkably slow child.
“I already have.”
The woman stiffens, caught off guard by such a sudden, harsh, and frankly crushing rejection. She opens her mouth again, glancing back at you, and her lips tighten right before she’s about to make a biting comment about your clothes, your slightly awkward posture, or the foolishness of softly cooing at a stray cat without a care in the world.
“Careful,” Sukuna says in a deceptively light tone, slightly lowering his head, while his eyes are dead serious. Even with his hands still in his pockets, his posture signals that if she makes one more insulting remark about you, it won't end merely with her wounded pride. “You’re already leaving.”
That gets through. She mumbles something low and unintelligible under her breath, walking away quickly as her bruised dignity scrambles to catch up with her retreat.
Sukuna turns his full attention back to you, because as far as he’s concerned, the entire interaction is already finished and irrelevant.
You stand up a moment later, dusting off your hands as you hurry over to him, beaming like you have genuinely discovered the meaning of life.
“You saw that cat?!” you ask, full of excitement, grabbing his arm. “He let me pet him!”
“I noticed,” he replies in a tone notably softer than it had been a moment ago.
You look up at him, tilting your head, and your smile slowly turns suspicious. “You look smug.”
“I am,” he confirms effortlessly, and the corners of his mouth curve slightly into a smirk.
You narrow your eyes at him. “And why is that?”
“Because,” he answers, grabbing the sleeve of your hoodie and pulling you firmly against his side, “you’re busy befriending a stray, and the universe keeps trying to hit on me.”
You snort, and a joyful laugh breaks through as you slide your hand into his, lacing your fingers together.
“How rude of it,” you comment, leaning your head against his shoulder.
“Terribly.”
“So... got her name?” you ask playfully, knowing the answer already.
“No.” His voice drops to a low, husky rumble as he rolls his eyes at your teasing. “Didn’t care.”
“Good.”
You start walking, immediately launching into a detailed monologue about how the cat definitely needs a name, some warm milk, and maybe some basic medical check-up. Sukuna walks beside you, gently rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb and listening to your enthusiastic chatter as if it was the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard in his life.