Chapter Text
It happened maybe once a year. A rare, silent eclipse that usually followed an exceptionally exhausting mission, a harsh anniversary, or simply a deep, quiet build-up of unspoken childhood fatigue.
On those days, Megumi Fushiguro's usual fierce independence and rigid boundaries completely dissolved. He didn't ask for space. He didn't push Gojo away. He certainly didn't complain about Gojo's obnoxious presence. Instead, Megumi reverted to something primal, needy, and deeply attached. He needed Gojo Satoru's absolute, undivided physical and mental attention.
No exceptions. No compromises.
It started at 6:00 AM when Gojo felt the mattress dip in his private quarters.
Before Gojo could even open his eyes, a familiar head of spiky black hair buried itself directly into the crook of his neck. Megumi's small, warm hands reached out under the covers, blindly searching until his fingers found Gojo's larger ones, threading them tightly together in a solid, unyielding grip.
Gojo, instantly realizing what day it was, let out a soft, immensely tender breath. The world's strongest sorcerer didn't make a joke. He didn't tease. He simply shifted, wrapping his long, warm arms entirely around the teenager, pulling Megumi flush against his chest and resting his chin atop the boy's head.
From that exact moment, the clock started. Gojo belonged entirely to Megumi for the next twenty-four hours.
Leaving the bed in the morning was a package deal.
Megumi refused to untangle their hands. As Gojo walked through his living quarters making morning tea, Megumi padded softly right behind him in oversized sweatpants, his forehead resting against Gojo's shoulder blade whenever Gojo stood still for more than three seconds. Their fingers remained tightly intertwined, Megumi's grip refusing to slacken even slightly.
When Gojo had to move to his main office to deal with mandatory clan paperwork, Megumi walked beside him, his gaze fixed quietly on the floor, his small hand holding onto Gojo's like a lifeline.
In the hallway, they ran into Yuuji and Nobara, who stopped dead in their tracks at the sight.
Yuuji opened his mouth to ask if they were going on a joint mission, but the moment Megumi felt Gojo's attention drift toward his classmates, the trap was set.
Megumi looked up. His sea-green eyes, glossy and brimmed with unshed water, looked directly at Gojo. It was the ultimate, weaponized abandoned puppy look. A silent, heart-wrenching expression that screamed, 'Don't leave me. Don't look away from me.'
Gojo's heart melted into a puddle on the floor.
"Sorry, kids! All requests denied today! I am completely booked!" Gojo announced cheerfully, waving Yuuji and Nobara off with his free hand while using the other to squeeze Megumi's fingers reassuringly.
"Wait, is Megumi..." Nobara started, but Gojo had already maneuvered Megumi down the hall, shielding his ward from the world.
Yuuji watched them disappear around the corner, his brow furrowed.
"Did Megumi look... clingy?" he asked.
"He looked like a baby koala," Nobara said flatly. "I've never seen him like that."
"Should we be worried?"
"Probably not. Gojo-sensei seems to know what he's doing."
"Does he ever?"
"Fair point."
Inside Gojo's vast, high-ceilinged office, work was reorganized to fit Megumi's needy, quiet mood.
Gojo didn't sit in his chair alone. The moment Gojo sat down behind his heavy oak desk, he gathered Megumi up and pulled the teenager straight onto his lap.
Megumi didn't resist. He didn't fight back or call Gojo embarrassing. He simply curled his legs in, resting his side against Gojo's chest, tucking his face into the warmth of Gojo's uniform jacket.
Gojo wrapped one of his massive, powerful arm completely around Megumi's frame, cocooning the boy against his torso while using one hand to maneuver his fountain pen to sign financial documents. It was an awkward position, his elbow bent at an odd angle, his writing slanted and messy, but he didn't care.
Megumi was comfortable. That was all that mattered.
Whenever Gojo paused to read a document, Megumi would lightly shift, raising their joined hands to rest on Gojo's chest, ensuring the physical contact never broke for a single second.
"Comfortable, Megumi-chan?" Gojo whispered softly, resting his cheek against Megumi's hair, his voice devoid of any teasing, filled only with pure, fatherly warmth.
"Mm," Megumi murmured softly, his eyelashes fluttering shut as he listened to the steady, comforting beat of Gojo's heart.
Everything Gojo did that day was designed to make Megumi feel safe, grounded, and utterly cherished.
When Gojo spoke, he kept his tone low, soothing, and gentle. He talked about nothing in particular. The weather. A funny story about Yuuji. A ridiculous mission report that had made him laugh. He kept his voice soft, a steady murmur that wrapped around Megumi like a warm blanket.
When he had to adjust his posture, he made sure his arms never unclasped from around Megumi's waist. When he needed to reach for a different document, he stretched carefully, keeping one arm firmly around Megumi's back.
When a messenger from the Higher-Ups knocked on the door with an urgent scroll, Gojo didn't even let the man step inside. He used a tiny flick of Infinity to slide the door shut, prioritizing Megumi's uninterrupted peace over the political demands of the jujutsu society.
The messenger knocked again, more insistently.
"Gojo-sama! This is urgent! The council requires your immediate..."
"Come back tomorrow!" Gojo called out cheerfully, his voice still gentle for Megumi's sake.
"But Gojo-sama..."
"I said come back tomorrow!"
Silence.
Then the sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway.
Megumi let out a small, contented sigh against Gojo's chest.
"Annoying," he mumbled.
"Very annoying," Gojo agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of Megumi's head. "But don't worry. I won't let them bother you."
For hours, they stayed like that.
Gojo worked through his stack of papers with one hand while holding Megumi securely in his lap with the other, periodically pressing soft, quiet kisses to the top of Megumi's head whenever he felt the boy take a deep, heavy breath.
He could feel the tension slowly draining from Megumi's body. Could feel the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his breathing evened out, the way his grip on Gojo's hand loosened from desperate to merely present.
Megumi spent the entire afternoon floating in that absolute security. The toxic weight of the world, the heavy expectations of his clan bloodline, and the quiet grief he carried every day simply vanished under the absolute, impenetrable shield of his guardian's affection.
For a few hours, he wasn't Fushiguro Megumi, the heir to the Ten Shadows technique.
He was just a kid. A kid who wanted to be held. A kid who wanted to feel safe. A kid who wanted to know that someone in this world loved him unconditionally.
And Gojo gave him all of that without hesitation.
When evening fell and the office grew dark, Gojo didn't bother turning on the desk lamp.
He smoothly lifted Megumi, who was practically asleep, completely limp and relaxed in his arms, and carried him back to his personal bedroom. Megumi's head lolled against Gojo's shoulder, his breath warm and even against Gojo's neck.
Gojo laid Megumi down on the soft, high-thread-count sheets of his king-sized bed and climbed in right beside him.
Before Gojo could even pull the heavy duvet over them, Megumi instinctively reached out, his dark eyes half-open in the dim moonlight.
Gojo smiled warmly, sliding his hand forward until their fingers locked together once more, palm to palm, perfect and secure.
Megumi pulled Gojo's hand close to his chest, burying his face into Gojo's shoulder, letting out a long, shuddering, peaceful sigh.
"Gojo..." Megumi whispered faintly into the quiet darkness of the room, his voice sleepy and small.
"I'm right here, kiddo," Gojo replied softly, wrapping his other arm over Megumi, pulling him close, wrapping his ward in complete safety. "I'm not going anywhere."
Megumi was quiet for a moment. Then, even softer, barely a breath:
"Promise?"
Gojo's heart clenched.
"I promise," he whispered, pressing a kiss to Megumi's forehead. "I'll always be right here."
Megumi's grip on his hand tightened, just for a second. Then it relaxed again, his body sinking into the mattress, his breath evening out, his face peaceful in a way it rarely was during the waking hours.
Wrapped securely in his father figure's arms, their fingers tightly intertwined under the moonlight, Megumi finally closed his eyes, sinking into a deep, dreamless, and perfectly safe sleep.
Gojo stayed awake for a while longer.
He watched Megumi sleep, his expression soft, his thumb tracing slow circles on the back of Megumi's hand. He thought about the day. About the way Megumi had clung to him. About the way his eyes had filled with unshed tears at the mere thought of Gojo looking away.
He thought about how rare these days were. How Megumi usually kept everyone at arm's length, never letting anyone see how much he needed them. How he pretended to be strong, pretended to be fine, pretended that he didn't care.
But Gojo knew.
Gojo always knew.
He knew about the nightmares. He knew about the self-doubt. He knew about the quiet, aching loneliness that lived in Megumi's chest, a wound that had been carved there long before Gojo had ever entered his life.
He knew about Toji. He knew about the Zen'in. He knew about the years of neglect and abuse that had taught Megumi to expect nothing from anyone.
And he knew that days like today were Megumi's way of asking for something he could never put into words.
Don't leave me.
I need you.
I'm scared of being alone.
So Gojo held him. He held him through the night, his arms wrapped securely around Megumi's small frame, his presence a silent promise that he would never let go.
Because some days, the world's strongest sorcerer didn't need to fight curses or protect the innocent.
Some days, he was just needed to be a dad.
And that was the most important job of all.