Archive of Our Own ^beta

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI was a gift just as he was gifted by all means, and that was Fushiguro Toji’s justification as to why he had the worst luck and made the worst decisions, because it was his kid that ended up gaining any sort of favor he could’ve had instead. In hindsight, this should’ve been a sign for Satoru to know that Toji's garbage fortune and garbage personality would come to bite him in the ass, but he was too distracted with the six different ways Toji could fuck him into six different kinds of surfaces six days a week to really think about it, because Toji was garbage in just about everything except sex. 

Satoru had also been young then, and according to Suguru, terribly naive for someone who always acted like he knew everything. But Satoru is old now (pushing twenty-five is the same thing as pushing fifty because twenty-five is half of fifty and see, Megumi, I can totally teach you math!) and he's no longer as starry-eyed as he'd been as a teenager. He's also definitely not as horny and reckless enough to make terrible decisions and get involved with terrible people.

"And yet," Suguru deadpans. "Here we are."

Satoru sniffles. "I didn’t invite you over to judge me."

"You're right. You invited me over to sleep with you." Suguru nods to himself. "But here we are, not sleeping together."

"Suguru, Megumi's birthday is tomorrow and I have nothing. Nothing! What makes you think I'm prioritizing sex at a time like this?"

Suguru blinks at him, unsympathetic. "Isn't that what exactly got you into this situation in the first place? With Toji, I mean." 

Satoru sighs and leans on the kitchen countertops of his apartment that have seen better days; he hasn't bothered to clean in about a week because he's swamped with work and Megumi is usually too busy to pick up the slack with chores. He's also, like, six, and thinks chores are an evil greater than dads who leave their kids behind. "I haven't seen that sexy twisted asshole in years. Why do you keep bringing that up, you heartless bastard. You literally teach kids for a living. Teachers are supposed to be angels." Satoru pauses. "Wait, what's the faculty planning for Megumi's birthday? Let me in on it too."

"No way. I'd never trust a guy who finds scum hot."

"But you'd let him fuck you?" Satoru yelps when Suguru kicks him right in the shin for the comment. "We've had this conversation before, Suguru. I don't have to like a guy to admit he's attractive. It's not that deep. And I know you saw him before. That guy fucks—fucked."

"Well," says Suguru. "He did fuck you. And Megumi's life over."

"I know. That's why I'm trying to make it great by giving him a good birthday, which would work if a certain someone would just help me."

Suguru sighs and glances to the clock right on top of the door of Megumi's bedroom. Inside, the kid's tucked in his bed and fast asleep. He's a heavy sleeper, which is something Satoru will eternally be grateful for because he's terrible at keeping quiet. It's why he never bothered to ever get involved in things like surprise celebrations, and also because he thought he'd never need it, because who likes that sort of thing nowadays? 

But this was all before Megumi, and children, and what it means to be a child, and what it means for Megumi to be a child, and kids—they like surprises, right? Satoru is pretty sure he liked surprises as a kid. Suguru, not so much, but he's a one of a kind guy and therefore most things can't be applied to him. (Suguru takes this as a compliment and Satoru means this as an insult, and this is why Shoko says they're meant to be. They have the same off-beat logic.)

In any case, two birthdays have already passed for it to hit Satoru that he might have to put a bit more effort into giving Megumi a proper celebration because for all intents and purposes, he's technically a proper kid who deserves a proper childhood.

"It's three," Suguru points out, like Satoru doesn't have eyes—the best eyes, mind you; it's landed him so many modeling gigs and it's how he keeps his head afloat when worst comes to worst—and can't tell the time for himself.  "Don't you wake him up at eight?"

"Lately, he's been getting up at seven because he wants to see the neighbor take her dogs out on a walk." Satoru sighs. "How much do you think I can accomplish in four hours?"

"You take two hours in the bathroom, so honestly, not much."

Satoru buries his face in his hands, suddenly hit by a strain of fatigue from thinking too much. Feeling bad for him, Suguru walks over to the cupboard to take out a jar of candy he knows is stashed there for snack and 'emergency' purposes. The fact that he's all too familiar with its use and where to find it just says a lot about how often he’s come over. "Don't die just yet," Suguru admonishes. "Megumi deserves at least five normal birthdays before something drastic happens."

Drastic, like getting abandoned by a parental figure. It’s a wonder that he technically came out as a sort of normal kid, though he was distrustful of Satoru for the first year they were together. Understandable, given who his actual dad is. 

Satoru tears the piece of candy open and pops it in his mouth. The sweetness is welcoming, and it's like he'd taken a pill to remove all his exhaustion. "Do you ever think about how I wouldn't have these problems if I wasn't reckless or horny or never met Toji, and consequently never ended up with a four-year old kid at my doorstep because I was the closest thing that piece of ass had to a decent enough person to handle his unwanted son?"

"Do you?" Suguru asks instead of making some snide remark that Satoru sounds like he got knocked up by the poor bastard, that he’s lucky he isn’t a girl and that didn’t happen, and that he isn’t even decent, just barely passing the minimum requirement to be seen as a tolerable human being. 

Satoru tilts his head to the ceiling, contemplating on the answer. It's been years, but he remembers the chipping paint and how it looked like it was two seconds away from collapsing on top of him.

"No," he says, because if he never met Megumi, that ceiling would still look like it came out of a house last repaired in the 60s, and a slightly dirty kitchen countertop would be the least of his worries, because he'd been too preoccupied with having sex and getting drinks and making everyone do everything for him and just never worry about things adults should be worried about, because he'd refuse to acknowledge that he was becoming an adult in the first place.

Kids, he realized early on, are a good reminder of that. If you asked Nanami what it meant to be an adult, he'd give some miniscule details about small miseries in life that related to body decay and accumulating weariness, but to Satoru, it's different. To have to look after someone, to have to think about someone other than yourself and take responsibility for it, that's what it meant to be an adult.

It was about responsibility, and there was no greater responsibility than being responsible for someone else.

"You're not reckless or horny," Suguru says, patting Satoru consolingly on the back before pulling away and making his way to the door. "You're just stupid, and you overthink everything, and I'm leaving, because I have to pick Mimiko and Nanako up early tomorrow. Have fun trying to plan out Megumi's seventh birthday."

***

Satoru was fresh out of university when Fushiguro Megumi had been unceremoniously dumped at his doorstep, and even at four, he looked so uncannily like his father that it both sickened and amused Satoru to no extent.

The problem wasn't that Satoru didn't have any money to support Megumi; it was that he didn't have real money. He lived in a rundown apartment because he was too lazy to get it fixed, wasted most of his mornings surrounding himself with rich and popular folk who would get him good press and good photoshoots, and spent most of his nights in someone else's bed. His paychecks were fat but they’d run out if he fucked something up like his face or connections and that was fine because he was just living in the moment anyway. His lifestyle was the absence of one. He lived for himself because there was no one else—Shoko and Suguru were already adults at eighteen and knew what they doing from the start and it didn't involve Satoru and his version of living life, and don't even get Satoru started on Nanami—and he was okay with that.

Then, at six in the morning, he left his apartment to go take out the trash and found Megumi, sitting right outside with nothing but a blue blanket three times too small for him, a stuffed toy dog, and a letter. And Satoru no longer simply lived for himself because there was someone else, and he was okay with that too.

He laid off on the modeling gigs until they dwindled into monthly occurrences rather than near-daily ones, tried to make something out of his university degree like Shoko and Suguru, and worked for a science-based NGO corporation to do executive search. (Everyone who knew him said he was obnoxious and he acknowledged that, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t be charming when he had to.) It didn't earn the most, but he did still earn from his old gigs to cover what he couldn't, and Megumi, fortunately, wasn't a demanding kid. The only thing he had was an abundance of animal plushies, but that was mostly Satoru’s fault for overindulging Megumi's fondness for all things animal. 

"If you're really having trouble," Suguru had told him early on, because he'd been the first person Satoru called when he discovered Megumi and it would continue being a thing between them even if they didn't know it yet—that he would become a constant in Satoru's life not because they were best friends, but because he was the best friend Satoru trusted with everything, Megumi especially. It probably helped that Suguru was a teacher, versus Shoko, who was in medical school and would more likely threaten kids with scalpels to behave. "You could just ask Shoko and I to pitch in."

"Are you looking down on me?" Satoru waved his chopsticks menacingly at Suguru. They were at a gyudon restaurant two streets away from where Satoru lived. Megumi was at school because it had been a year since he'd been living with Satoru; almost eight months in, Satoru realized that the kid probably needed to go to school and interact with other kids. It would hopefully get rid of the permanent line Megumi seemed to have between his eyebrows, the kind of look that Satoru would see on his stern professors back in university and on Suguru's face every time he got annoyed at something Satoru said. Like now. "I'll have you know I'm not that pathetic. Megumi gets to eat three meals a day and new clothes every three months! That's way better care than I had as a kid."

"It's the bare minimum he needs to not turn out like you," Suguru said, gracefully sipping from the tea he had ordered. "I'm serious though. You don't have to make life so hard for yourself when you don't need to."

Satoru stared down at his bowl. "Bills are just annoying to handle, but it's really not that bad. 'Sides," He picked up a piece of beef to eat. "You know that Zenin family that really wants Megumi 'cause he's the only heir they got? Apparently, they paid Toji a ton of money just to keep the kid alive. The cash was never touched 'cause I think the guy wanted to use it for emergency cases, but he's dead, so now all the money's just sitting there in the Fushiguro name, which now only belongs to Megumi."

"Emergency cases." Suguru's voice turned thoughtful. "So you've been using that to keep yourselves afloat?"

"Nah." Satoru swallowed. "I'd skim off a few from there if I really needed it, but so far, that hasn't happened. I'm actually thinking about using it for his—er, university fund, something like that."

That got a laugh out of Suguru. "Satoru, he's five."

"Nothing wrong with planning for the future!" Satoru felt defensive. "And isn't that what Shoko used to say to us back in our first year when we couldn't decide on a major?"

"I think she said that to us to get us from picking a fight with the student council president. We needed a clean record," Suguru corrected. "But you have a point. It's actually smart thinking, Satoru. I'm impressed."

Satoru puffed up his chest, proud. "I'm great at this, aren't I?" He ignored the way Suguru rolled his eyes. "Maybe I should be a teacher. Hey, maybe I'll do an even better job than you."

"Unlikely."

"I don't know 'bout that." Satoru drummed his fingers against the table. "I mean, I did get a kid earlier than you."

"This isn't a competition, and it's not like you actually, actively wanted it."

"Exactly."

Suguru crossed his arms. "It's different when it's legal. It takes a lot of time, but I'm working on it. Not that you'd know."

"The law means nothing." Satoru gestured aimlessly at the air. "I mean, if it did, then you would've been able to adopt those girls even before instead of scampering around, trying to gain their foster parents' favor so they can give them to you." Suguru shot him a dirty look because he never liked it when he mentioned it, but it didn't make it any less true. Satoru would've called him pathetic for trying so hard if not for the fact that (A) Suguru would hit him, and (B) he knew his friend was coming from. Suguru had always loved kids, and loving kids was something Satoru never truly understood until Megumi came along. "If it did, then Megumi wouldn't be with me in the first place. Legally or not."

It wasn't as if he was stealing him or keeping him from anything anyway. The Zenin family were Megumi's only living relatives, but when they found out that Toji died and he left the kid in Satoru's care, they didn't want him just yet. They'd come back when he was eighteen, probably, which Satoru found annoying, because they didn't offer anything but the promise to not interfere with their lives or the current savings they left behind when Toji was still alive; at least until Megumi would be useful to them.

That sort of shit pissed Satoru off, the idea of only being looked at and noticed when you served a purpose. Megumi knew it too, even though he was five, and he'd probably known this even before he was supposed to know anything like simple colors and simple numbers, and that pissed Satoru off even more. It was one of the few things Suguru didn't know, and the only reason Satoru didn't tell him was because then he'd get pissed, and Satoru needed Suguru to act as the rational one between them because that was now his job. Megumi was the only other person Satoru spent constant time with and Megumi was five, and he was in that phase where he just scowled at everything and didn't trust anyone. Then again, that might've just been because of Toji. It was hard to say; it's not like Satoru was knowledgeable with children. Maybe the real reason Satoru wanted Suguru here was because he was.

"Is that why you broke so many rules back in university?" 

"You would know, since you always did it with me."

Suguru only snorted in reply. Satoru leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm as he stared at him thoughtfully. He didn't look like he aged much, twenty-three and still looking like he did back when he was eighteen, right when they first met. There was a chance Suguru wasn't even going to change much when he'd be nearly thirty, and Satoru would envy this nearly ongoing youth in Suguru if not for the fact that he knew he looked the same. It made perfect sense, as far as Satoru was concerned, that they'd be considered looking good together. There had been a time, Satoru recalled, in their second year of college, where that was something they both agreed on. He wondered if Suguru's answer would still be the same if he asked now. Satoru's was, and that was probably the real reason why he wanted Suguru here in the first place.

"Oh no, I don't like that look on your face," Suguru said, but he didn't protest when Satoru lifted a slice of beef with his chopsticks to his lips, and instead ate it without much question. Suguru chewed slowly, Satoru stared at his lips, and this wasn't the kind of foreplay they did back in university—it usually involved a lot more direct crotch-grabbing and ass-rubbing, tackling each other to the ground and shotgunning in the dim lighting of a bar—but maybe this was just an aspect of being an adult. 

Things changed. Satoru used to be afraid of that very thing when he left university and had to face the real world, which was why he tried so hard to run away from it, but now his days weren't about those anymore. Instead, they were made up of making breakfast to ease Megumi's permanently grumpy face just a little, buying any animal plushie he could whenever he had the pocket change for it, mingling with people for work and getting to know enough about them to land them a job but not enough to actually be their friend, and catching up with his actual friend who had always sort of been something more whenever they had the time. It wasn't much, nothing compared to how he used to look at the world when he was younger and believed he could conquer everything, but being great didn't mean he had to be right all the time, and it was okay.

"Mimiko and Nanako are seven today though, so I'm treating them out for dinner tonight," Suguru said, ruining whatever mood Satoru had been singlehandedly building up because between them, Suguru was way lazier than he let on. As Satoru threw his head back and groaned, Suguru slipped out of the booth before the other could do something stupid like try to hold him in place or get him into the mood so he could change his mind by shoving a foot in his crotch—Satoru had done it before, and even though he was an adult, he did not have enough shame to not do it, and Suguru knew this all too well. "Let's take a raincheck on this. Bye, Satoru."

Satoru swore he'd strangle Suguru the next time he saw it. Instead, when Suguru visited him past midnight, right after dropping Mimiko and Nanako back to their foster home, and backed him against the wall to kiss him, Satoru kissed back and asked, because he really did understand what it meant to care for someone other than yourself, "So, how was the seventh birthday?"

***

"Did it go badly," Megumi says, not really phrasing it like a question.

"Shh, it's your birthday, you don't need to worry about that." Megumi just stares at him, looking unimpressed. "It didn't work out."

"Maybe it was because he was sleepy," suggests Megumi. "I would've been sleepy if you tried telling me anything at three."

"Well, you were asleep," Satoru agrees. "But he's like me; we stay up a lot, so we don't get sleepy easily."

"Why?"

Satoru pauses, realizing that the answer to that was because they always had sex in the evening; it wasn't like they were college students and could just grab each other's dicks out of nowhere in the middle of daytime after ditching class. The only thing you could ditch when you were an adult was life, and they were constantly living it. There was no way Satoru was going to tell Megumi about that. Being smart did not mean having to know everything. Unless you were Gojo Satoru. He absolutely had to know everything, which is something that annoyed Megumi to no end because he was who Satoru needled constantly. "We like to tell each other lots of stories. It's a good thing you're a deep sleeper and never hear them. Only Suguru and I would get them, and then it'd just make you feel bad about yourself and bored to death."

"But you tell terrible stories. They don’t even make sense."

"Hey, Suguru likes them," Satoru argues, even though he and Megumi aren’t exactly referring to the same thing.

"Whatever." Megumi swings his legs from where he sits at the countertop. He's waiting for Satoru to finish cleaning the dishes so they could head to the dog cafe. School had finished before noon and they had the remainder of the day off. It would be Megumi's first time in a dog cafe, which made him excited, but spending the day with his classmates, teachers, and Satoru wasn't really any different from his past birthdays. Neither was the faculty surprise celebration, but his classmates did surprise him with a little performance they made for Megumi and gave him cake, much to his embarrassment for the amount of effort they put in. 

Afterwards, Suguru texted Satoru the suggestion that he could still pull a last-minute legitimate celebration by gathering all of Megumi's friends with him to meet at the dog cafe, but Satoru wasn't good enough to pull that kind of thing off at the last second.

In any case, it wasn't like Satoru actually called Suguru late in the evening because he genuinely needed help in pulling a surprise for Megumi. Megumi was a quiet kid, and though he got along with people, he never actively sought them out, so Satoru just secretly convinced Itadori Wasuke to let Yuuji go to the dog cafe instead for Megumi, who didn't know. That would mean more to Megumi than any big celebration Satoru could've possibly thrown, and Satoru knew this all too well because he was great.

Great, but apparently not great enough to ask Suguru out despite the alone time he'd managed to snag under the guise of needing to give his kid a grand celebration. Suguru would've killed him if he found out that Satoru called him late in the evening just to ask him on a date, but in Satoru's defense, it's not like Suguru had agreed to come for exactly wholesome reasons—a booty call, really? Did Satoru seem like that kind of person? Scratch that, he totally was, but that wasn't the point, and it wasn’t as bad as before.

And Suguru knows that Satoru needs time to muster the courage to do particularly daunting tasks. It usually takes an entire day, which is why he's only ready by the evening before it'll fizzle out.

In this particular case, it's actually taken a couple of years, but who's counting anyway?

"I don't get it," Megumi says. "It's not that hard to ask someone out on a date."

Satoru briefly stops washing the dish in his hands to give Megumi a look. "You don't even know what that means."

"Yuuji says it has something to do with being in a re-la-tion-ship." He enunciates each syllable with more emphasis than necessary, meaning that the word is new to his vocabulary. 

"And what do you think it means to be in a relationship?"

Megumi shrugs. "Just something gross, I think. But you like it, and you should do stuff you like. But doing stuff you like isn't supposed to be hard."

"What's hard is that I like him."

"But he doesn't like you?"

"He does. That's why we spend so much time together."

Megumi just stares at him. "So you are in a relationship. That's what being together means, right?"

"Not always." Satoru and Suguru are, but he's not about to explain to a seven-year old kid about how a friends-with-benefits relationship is different from a legitimate, romantic one. He's pretty sure Megumi doesn't even really understands that friendship means; he just knows it's something he has with Yuuji, because Yuuji is special even though the extent of Megumi explaining why is just a vague hand gesture and blatantly perking up whenever Yuuji's name is mentioned. "Not in the way you're thinking. Or whatever you can try to think of. You're too young to know about it."

Megumi frowns, trying to process this information. Without thinking, Satoru reaches out to try and smoothen out the line between the kid's eyebrows because he swears it makes people age faster, and even though Megumi has no biological relation to Satoru, Satoru wants him to look as youthful and as handsome as he does. He would not be his kid if he wasn't good-looking. Megumi bats his hand away and scrubs his forehead furiously because Satoru's hand is still soapy. Satoru just pulls back and raises his hand in surrender. 

"Ah," Megumi says. "I know why."

"What?"

Megumi nods, like his reason makes total sense. "It's because you tell terrible stories, that's why you're not in a relationship."

"No, it's not because I tell terrible stories, because I don't. I could probably start a career as a children's book author and earn a ton of money, and then you'll feel bad for not taking advantage of the fact that you were the only lucky brat to hear what I had to say." Satoru childishly flicks soap water at Megumi. "It's because he doesn't want to."

"But you said he liked you."

"Sometimes that isn't enough." Satoru puts aside the now-cleaned dish by the rack. "When you like someone, they become special, and special people are always the number one person. But Suguru doesn't want that, because he won't be my number one, and I won't be his." 

He said it early on, actually, that night when he came back from Mimiko and Nanako's seventh birthday and slept with Satoru for the first time in years. He knew, that morning after, that Satoru was about to ask him out, and he turned him down before he could ever get the words out. Mimiko and Nanako would always be Suguru's priority, just as Megumi would always be Satoru's. To be an adult not only meant being responsible for someone else, but knowing how that responsibility would affect others too.

("Let's be fair to one another," Suguru said. "We aren't like other people, and we deserve better than second best."

"Do we?" Satoru asked. "I'm actually just starting to think you just like me for my dick and nothing more."

"No," Suguru replied in all seriousness. Satoru expected him to say something sappy and reassuring and consequently depressing, but what he said instead was, "I forgot how your dick isn't as big as your ego, so it's actually pretty disappointing."

Satoru whacked him in the head with a pillow for that, and they weren't the same hotheaded teens they once were who attacked one another at the slightest jab, but they still wrestled in the sheets and hit one another with the pillows anyway. Having Megumi changed Satoru's life and he never regretted it, but it was nice that despite growing up, that despite learning how to become an adult, there were some things in Satoru's life that stayed the same.)

It wasn't like Satoru didn't understand where Suguru was coming from, and even now, he still understands that Suguru has a point. But the kids are growing up and they aren't going to be Satoru and Suguru's number one priority because they won't always need to be coddled and given complete attention to. When they grow up, when they become adults, they'll be their own people. Satoru and Suguru should be too, and that's why they should be together. Because they can, as their own persons.

Not that Megumi is an adult. And he wouldn't be for a while, while Satoru would be, but even though Satoru had been okay with Suguru's reasoning for the first few years, he's Gojo Satoru, and he's never been content with just settling when he could have more. But relationships are a two-way street, and no amount of wanting from Satoru's end would mean anything if Suguru doesn't reciprocate.

The only option, therefore, is to convince him. Not with logic, because Shoko and Nanami say it's not really one of Satoru's strong suits, but pure bullheadedness (something Suguru admits is his strong suit) and being a smooth bastard (something no one has said he was). But Satoru hasn't been a so-called smooth bastard since his college and early modelling days, and everything seems to fly out the window whenever Suguru is involved, leaving Satoru to take too long to try and just gain the courage to try it out rather than actually doing it, like he's some high school girl with an embarrassing crush. Besides, Suguru has always been the type to take his suave moves in stride. Really, Satoru never wins when it comes to Suguru. It's a wonder why he likes him so much.

"That's stupid," Megumi says, with all the confidence and certainty all seven-year-olds have. It's arrogance that Satoru would find annoying on any other kid if not Megumi because he's biased. He also probably got that from Satoru. "I know my other classmates have moms who are alone—" He probably means single. "—and I know they can date. Nobara's mom makes a different guy pick her up from school every few months and she and says it's her new dad even though they've never been dads before. It should be easier for you and Getou-sensei. Nobara's always annoyed because she has to know these people all over again even if they'll just leave, but I already know Getou-sensei, and I don't think he's going anywhere."

He won't, because he loves kids. "But Suguru and I are both pare—have our own kids to look after," Satoru explains, nose scrunching at the fact that he almost said that they’re parents. Megumi may be his charge but he’s definitely not Megumi’s dad. One, because he isn’t legally, and two, because being a dad means being old, and Satoru knows he’s old, but knowing is different from actually admitting it, and that’s what admitting to being a dad would entail.

Frankly, he’s just not ready to face that reality yet. He’s just a glorified, eternally unpaid, 24/7 babysitter. And as much as Suguru wants to, he isn’t Mimiko and Nanako’s dad because he can’t adopt them yet. "I have you, and he has those girls, so we can't do couple things together because of that. And it's not a bad thing, but it's why we're different. Because we're different, we live by different rules, and we can't be like the rest.”

"Oh." Megumi falls quiet. "Then why don't you just do parent things together?"

"'Parent things together'? I’m going to ignore the fact that you insulted me by calling me that. Being a parent means I’m old and I’m not—”

“You are."

“—But we don't do parent things together." Because they aren't parents, and they aren’t even “parents” to the same kids. And how can that justify the value of an official relationship anyway? Kid logic really blows Satoru’s mind. Is this a sign that Megumi is smart or stupid? Or does all this just mean he’s a little shit and that’s absolutely Satoru’s fault?

"Yes, you do."

"No, we don't."

“Yes.”

“No.”

Megumi glares at him. "It's my birthday," he reminds Satoru. "Don't argue with me. You’re supposed to be nice."

"My bad, my bad," Satoru says, even though he wants to insist that he’s always nice. In fact, he’s so nice that he’d win the Miss Congeniality award if they’d let him participate. "Since it's your birthday, let's stop talking about this and focus on you, okay? We should buy a treat for the dogs on the way to the cafe so we can leave them a souvenir afterwards. How does that sound?"

Though Megumi is still looking at him suspiciously, he nods in agreement. Satoru beams, and he can’t help but feel a small pang after he ruffles Megumi’s hair affectionately, realizing that he doesn’t know how many times he’s going to get to do this until he can’t anymore. Stupid laws and legality and Zenin clan. Satoru doesn’t remember living in a soap opera with all these family feuds and cliches and moral law-breaking. 

Not that Satoru can complain as much as he wants to, because Megumi’s excited beam when they finally reach the steps of the dog cafe is contagious, more than enough for him to let go of any fears for the moment.

***

The conversation with Megumi doesn’t actually come to Satoru’s mind until roughly two weeks later, when he and Suguru are spending the weekend doing grocery shopping together. It’s not intentional. Megumi has a playdate with Yuuji and Satoru doesn’t want to use the time to actually rest, so he calls Suguru and asks if he’s doing anything. Suguru mentions something about doing groceries, which reminds Satoru that he has to do  too, so he insists that they just do it together so it’d be less boring. Suguru argues that running errands isn’t supposed to be fun in the first place, but he must secretly want it to be anyway, since he lets Satoru do what he wants and tags along. 

“Hey, do you know where the baking goods aisle is?” Suguru asks. “I swore it was right here…”

“It’s beside the one that has all the cereal,” Satoru says. “Man, you’re getting old.”

Suguru bristles. “There are two grocery stores around town, so it gets confusing. Besides, you know I don’t go here often.”

“Yeah, but I don’t see the appeal of the other one,” Satoru says, casually shoving one of his hands into his pocket as he carries the grocery basket with his other. He follows Suguru out of the aisle. “Why’d you choose this store anyway? Don’t tell me it’s because I live closer to it. There are other ways to admit that you care about me.”

“There’s something that Mimiko and Nanako like that only this store sells,” Suguru explains. “Some kind of brownie mix, so I’m going to buy it for them and we’ll bake it together next weekend.”

“You sure you won’t set the kitchen on fire?” Satoru says, and grins at the way Suguru just scoffs and continues walking. Even though they’re supposed to be at the baking goods aisle, they end up wandering into the cereal one instead, right beside. Satoru has a grocery list of things he needs to buy, but they aren’t a lot, and there’s a cereal brand that catches his attention because it’s one he hasn’t had in years. It’s chocolate flavored and Megumi might like it, so he gets the one last remaining one and puts it in his basket. For some reason, he suddenly thinks of Mimiko and Nanako. “Do those girls have a sweet tooth?”

Suguru throws him a wary look. “I’m not trusting you with anything you suggest.”

“Why?”

“You give Megumi too much sweets as it is.”

“Yeah, and it’s a wonder he isn’t as hyper as he should be,” Satoru says. “When he finally reaches the age when he can have a phone, he’ll definitely be one of those kids that glues his face to it twenty-four-seven. Brats like those definitely need more sunshine and sweets.”

“Whatever you say.” Suguru comes over to look at the cereal box Satoru had been referring to. “Oh, I haven’t seen this in a while. You used to eat this a lot back in college.”

“I know. I don’t remember if it’s as good though.”

“I should get one for the girls too.” Suguru says. “This is actually pretty healthy, despite the artificial flavor.”

“There’s only one left though.”

Suguru stretches his hand to Satoru. “Give me yours.”

“No way.” Satoru takes a step back, defensively covering his grocery basket with his hands. “Come back when they restock. I got it first!”

Suguru huffs, looking like he’s about to argue, but suddenly there’s a small glint in his eyes, like he just thought of something fond and amusing and it’s enough to make him move on. “I just remembered that you used to sprinkle sugar on top of this cereal whenever Shoko wasn’t looking back when we all lived together.”

Satoru’s lips twitch in amusement. “Should I be touched or concerned that you remember that much about me?”

Suguru doesn’t even bat an eye. “Someone has to.” He turns before Satoru can even process the words. Not knowing what else to do, Satoru just trails after him, gut twisting at the unexpected tenderness behind Suguru’s words and the meaning of what they’re doing, this kind of easygoing familiarity between them that’s expected because they’re Satoru&Suguru but also because it’s more than that. 

What they’re doing really isn’t anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes their errands do intersect and they end up doing it together, because company is never a bad thing and it can’t be when it’s between the both of them. There have been times when Suguru looked after Megumi when Satoru had emergencies for work; there have been moments where Satoru went with Suguru to help buy the girls new clothes or toys because he has a better sense of fashion (surprisingly enough) and better taste in things kids would enjoy (something which made complete sense, given his childish personality, as Suguru claims). 

It’s nothing really out of the ordinary, and Satoru frowns, letting the fact sink in. For some reason, his thoughts drift to his conversation with Megumi during his birthday. 

“Oi, Satoru,” Suguru calls out. He isn’t looking at him, but at a small purple plastic bag that the store has an array of lined up on the shelf. There’s a huge sticker slapped at the top, likely some kind of promotional deal. “Isn’t this the powdered milk that Megumi likes to drink whenever it’s almost winter?. Look, each purchase gets you a ticket to joining a raffle. Winner will get a free washing machine. You should get this. Didn’t you say yours was busted? This is a good deal.” 

Satoru wants to tease Suguru that he’s acting like such an embarrassing old man for getting so impressed with joining raffles and freebie appliances, wants to point out that he’s acting like such a know-it-all parent for remembering all these details about Megumi’s brand of milk like he’s his co-dad and little bits about Satoru’s life and the state of his washing machine, when he doesn’t have to care in the first place, when it’s not his business to because they aren’t even boyfriends. But he does anyway, because he’s Suguru and because he’s Satoru and because it’s just natural. 

All this—it’s natural between them. 

“We should date,” Satoru blurts out. 

Suguru stops. Then he turns to Satoru with an incredulous look on his face. “What?”

Satoru clears his throat even though he knows Suguru heard him loud and clear. “I’m asking you out. Let’s date.”

“How many times am I going to have this conversation with you.” Suguru pinches his nose. “You know we can’t be like all those other couples—”

“Yeah, I know what you said,” Satoru cuts him off. “You don’t want because—ugh, I don’t wanna say it because I’m not old, but yeah, fine, we’re parents, and you don’t think it’s fair for us to be a couple when we can never do couple things because we’re too busy doing parent things.” He throws his hands up in the air. “But who says we have to be a normal couple anyway? Let’s just be parents that do couple things, or a couple that does parent things. Let’s just—” In a few strides, he finds himself standing in front of Suguru. He wants to grab his hands, but that seems too sappy and too gross and too dramatic for his taste, so he just balls his hands into fists. “Let’s just do it together. We don’t have to change anything.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Suguru frowns. “If you don’t need things to change, then what’s wrong with what we have now?”

“I—” Satoru runs a hand through his face. He should just say it. Come clean with it. “I guess I just want something in my life to be for certain, you know? Maybe—maybe that’s what it’s about. Maybe it bothers me more than I thought. Because Megumi’s mine except he isn’t, and Mimiko and Nanako are yours except they aren’t, and we can both lose that in any second. And I fucking hate that, and I think it’s screwed up that there’s nothing important to me that I have for sure, just things I can try to hold on for as long as they last, like Megumi, like you. And it’s not like I’m not gonna do something about Megumi, because I am. Because I’m great, you know, I think I can work something out, but—you, I wanna be able to do something too. So I just,” He gestures uselessly between them. “Yeah.”

Suguru says nothing. He just stares at Satoru like he’s trying to read him even though there's nothing deeper to anything Satoru's just confessed. Satoru wonders if this is also what it means to be an adult—being emotionally repressed and not even knowing it until it explodes and comes spilling out. Making dramatic confessions in a grocery store aisle.

He’s pretty sure soap opera declarations happened in fancier places like galas and wedding receptions. 

Then Suguru sighs loudly. “All that build up and you end your speech with a ‘yeah’?” 

Satoru gives him the most disbelieving and offended look he can muster. “Suguru, I just poured out my heart to you and you’re using your ‘teacher voice’ on me? That’s mean—that’s downright cruel. I hope you never made Megumi cry with your harsh words and disappointment.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Suguru says. “Megumi is probably the only student that could reduce me to tears. I think he got that from you.”

“So wait, is that a yes or not?”

Suguru tilts his head. It’s annoying how he looks handsome in that angle, because who looks sexy just by tilting his head? Suguru, that’s who. Satoru thinks he’d look sexy if he did that too because sexy people gravitate and attract one another (case in point, besides screwing Suguru: Fushiguro Toji), but this isn’t about him. Not at the moment. 

“Depends.” He reaches out to grip Satoru’s arm tightly before pulling away. Satoru doesn’t understand the reason behind the gesture. Is it to spur him into some sort of action or turn him on? Because it isn’t, but it totally could if he just found some kind of meaning to it. Suguru should know this. Satoru is good at working with whatever he’s got. He’s great at improvising. “How good is this date going to be?”

“It’ll be great.” Satoru puffs up his chest. “Just like me. You’ll see, Suguru.”

Suguru laughs and turns, already beginning to walk away to move onto the next aisle. “Can’t wait.”

Satoru doesn’t move just yet, letting it all sink in. Then he smiles softly to himself and allows himself to simmer in this feeling of teenage giddiness and adult-esque sense of content, watching Suguru’s back and thinking about how catching up to him would also mean to finally be able to grasp onto something certain. 

Right at that moment, he sees a familiar box in Suguru’s basket that wasn’t there before. Satoru realizes why Suguru had leaned close earlier and tried to hold him. “Oh, fuck—Suguru, come back here! I know what you did, you ass! Don’t think you can get away with this!”