Chapter Text
Megumi’s bedtime was fast approaching and all he and Nanami had done for the last few hours was talk. About everything and nothing. They had been halfway through Megumi explaining why he wasn’t a fan of being a pitcher on his team when the boy had started to slump.
Nanami hadn’t noticed until a small head was leaning against his arm. Small words became slower and softer as the boy fought off sleep.
“Megumi-kun, I think it’s time to get ready for bed,” Nanami urged without making any motion to displace Megumi’s head.
“Okay,” Megumi sighed back, happy that he wasn’t the one to suggest bedtime but clearly in need of it. With great effort, he maneuvered his small body off the large couch and sauntered off to the bathroom. Kiri and Yami lifted their snouts to watch him but chose to remain curled on the floor at Nanami’s feet.
After going through his normal routine Megumi stopped short of locking Nanami out of his room. He was hovering in his own doorway staring at the door frame. Nanami stood to join him, unsure what had the young boy so perplexed.
“Is everything alright?” Nanami asked in a soft tone. Megumi pursed his lips as if he hadn’t yet decided.
“Do you think I’ve grown?”
Nanami knelt down and stared with Megumi at the tower of marks on the doorframe. Slowly climbing upward cataloging his progression through his youth. Nanami reached out the first mark at the very bottom. Megumi was only three. The line was drawn in marker but it felt deeply permanent under Nanami’s thumb.
“I’d say you’ve grown a considerable amount. Maybe too much,” Nanami said looking at the boy's current height.
Megumi frowned.
“That’s silly. You can’t grow too much,” the boy decided and reached out to a more recent mark, now almost at his eye level. “Besides, I meant since this time.”
Nanami laughed silently to himself. Perhaps he’s been thinking too much recently. So without much thought, he agreed to remeasure and mark Megumi’s current height on the door using his hand to show the boy how tall he now stood. It was a few centimeters higher than before.
The result brought a small prideful smile to Megumi’s face that Nanami hadn’t yet seen.
“Now you,” Megumi said, opening his hand for the marker.
“What?”
“I need to know how tall you are so I’ll know when I get taller than you.”
Unable to defend himself from such logic, Nanami proceeded to lift Megumi to his side so he could reach up and measure exactly where the top of the salaryman’s head was compared to the doorframe. They both stared up at the mark only a few centimeters below the only mark for Gojo.
Finally satisfied with his own ritual of progress Megumi said goodnight which finally roused the dogs up from the cozy living room.
Every minute between when Megumi had tucked himself and the dogs behind his bedroom door and when Nanami finally could go down for last call felt like their own eternity. Nanami passed that long stretch of time finally making the rounds to the frames that decorated Gojo’s apartment.
Nanami went wall-to-wall, leaning down and peering into Gojo’s memories like the entire room was an art gallery floor. Most of the pictures showcased critical moments of growth for Megumi. Nanami saw the boy's first day of school, carving a pumpkin for Halloween and even one of him looking particularly miserable at a loud, crowded festival.
The best pictures, in Nanami’s opinion, were those that contained Gojo and Megumi together. The pair sharing a sled in the snow. Megumi on top Gojo’s shoulders on a sunny day. His favorite picture of all was a family portrait of sorts; Gojo kneeling down to half-hug Megumi while Geto, or rather, Uncle Suguru held the dogs next to them outside the familiar store-front of the bar.
Nanami kept coming back to that picture, framed and sitting happily in their living room.
He stared at it as a melancholic feeling settled in his chest. It was such a full picture. There were no empty spaces. Nothing missing and no room for anything more. Nanami kept wrestling with the idea that maybe Gojo’s heart was already the same way. Had been full for three years now.
Nanami’s heart wasn’t the same. He was the complete opposite end of the scale. His was empty and dying for attention and someone to sustain it.
“Damn,” Nanami murmured as he realized he was truly as desolate as his dead houseplant in his apartment.
The light sound of shuffling shook Nanami from his pessimistic thoughts. It came from behind Megumi’s door. It was likely Kiri and Yami readjusting, trying to share the space of Megumi’s small bed.
The simple sound reminded Nanami of something much more complicated. He thought about his conversation with Megumi in the bar. The small boy standing in his father’s too-big shoes and barring his deepest concerns with a battered and bruised stranger.
Nanami leaned back down to the family portrait, locking his eyes on Gojo’s stagnant, smiling face.
“Is that true? Are you lonely?” Nanami whispered to the picture. “I know I am.”
He checked his watch to find time had suddenly started moving very fast when his thoughts had become slow and heavy. It was nearing last call.
Nanami tried to ignore the irony of his own thoughts as he used Gojo’s keys to safely lock Megumi and the apartments behind multiple deadbolts. He emerged from the back room through the employee-only door back into the open floor of the bar.
The entire establishment laid out in front of him. The music played despite the emptying dancing area. The clacking of pool balls had long since ended, they had rolled to a stop and were left scattered on their tables in an abandoned game. Drained glasses sat at some of the uncleared tables, echoes of the conversations exchanged between sips.
And of course the bar. A few of the bar stools that lined one side still had patrons, sipping the last drops of their drinks. A familiar bum sat, half-falling, on his usual stool in the corner. The regularly waxed and cleaned surface of the bar reflected even the dimmest lights that hung above.
All of this, all these lights and drinks, centered around one man standing behind that bar, wiping glasses with his signature smirk.
The bartender hadn’t noticed Nanami’s arrival yet and Nanami was happy to stop and stare for another moment. None of this space existed without Gojo. Not the glossy bar or the small boy sleeping overhead.
Pleasant jealousy washed over Nanami. Gojo had found his niche in life. Something he was good at, beyond good at, something that people needed and along the way had carved out a life and family all his own. Nanami suspected that that was just the sort of person Gojo is.
The patron sitting on Nanami’s usual stool finally slid a few paper bills across the bar and stood to leave. Nanami inhaled through his nose the warm smell of wood and alcohol. He took up his usual seat while Gojo had his back turned.
“You were staring. Still are,” Gojo said over his shoulder and Nanami instantly sat straighter, heat running up the back of his neck. He swallowed, feeling a little emboldened.
“What time is your last call?” Nanami asked, already knowing the answer of course.
Gojo half turned and glanced over Nanami’s expression. Nanami waited, hoping Gojo would indulge him a little.
“Just in time. What can I get for you?”
Nanami glanced down the bar as the bum finally tipped off the stool barely catching himself on shaky legs. Those legs lead him to stumble towards the front door. Nanami exhaled his amusement through his nose.
“A bourbon old-fashioned, with an extra slice of orange if you have it,” Nanami said and planted one forearm down on the bar. He was more careful settling his injured arm against the wood surface.
“You got it, handsome,” Gojo replied as easily as he had their first night. Nanami could feel the cocky smile on Gojo’s face even before he turned around to flip a coaster and an empty glass onto the bar.
That was where their little reenactment ended. Gojo dumped some sugar into Nanami’s glass and asked about Megumi. Nanami wasn’t disappointed of course. He was more than happy to watch Gojo’s fingers work magic over his glass as he recited the conversations shared between himself and Gojo’s son.
“Your extra slice, Salaryman,” Gojo teased as he wedged the last garnish onto the lip of Nanami’s cocktail. Nanami sighed.
“I think I’ve figured out why you have such trouble letting go of that nickname,” Nanami murmured and twirled the glass. He left the ice shift and disperse its cold properties to the rest of the drink.
“Oh? Do share with the class.”
“Because that’s all I am,” Nanami looked up from his glass into Gojo’s eyes, intense and knowing. “It’s all I’ve been for too long.”
“That’s not how I meant it,” Gojo practically whispered, bracing his palms onto the bar.
“At the risk of having it go to your head, I wanted to tell you that you were right about me. You are right,” Nanami said, more to his drink than to Gojo, lifting the glass and finally taking a slow first sip. Gojo raised his eyebrows as Nanami summoned the courage.
“It’s not enough for me and I’m tired of pretending it is.”
There was a beat of silence between them. Nanami watched Gojo’s warped face through the glass of his cocktail as he took another calming drink. Gojo lowered himself down a little more and reached down to graze his fingers over Nanami’s injured forearm.
He gingerly lifted the limb into his grasp, trailing the fingers of one hand over the wrapping.
“I’m not sure Megumi-chan and I are good for you. If you are looking for balance, we aren’t it,” Gojo admitted. It was such a masked way of saying he wouldn’t blame Nanami if he just wanted to walk away. From the bar and old fashions and Gojo and Megumi. As if Nanami had any capacity to stay away from the bar.
Nanami chuckled to himself as he watched Gojo’s fingers.
“How depressing is it if I say that interacting with you has been the best times I’ve had in a long time? Stitches included.”
“You have a fucked idea of fun,” Gojo laughed out. The motion of his humor jostled through Nanami’s arm and ran up into his chest.
The chuckling slowly died out giving way to tense silence. The same eyes that had captivated Nanami at first glance now drilled into his own. Gojo let go of Nanami’s arm, gently returning it to the bartop.
“Megumi-chan is the most important thing to me. He matters more than the bar, you, Getou, or anyone else. That’s why I couldn’t let him go when his father left. His safety and comfort are more important than anything I want.”
Nanami’s heart was incredibly heavy in his chest. It was filled with the weight of Gojo’s words and their mutual loneliness and he was sure his heart was one more word between suspension and falling in his gut. Nanami swallowed.
“He told me he feels that way about you too. Which is why I want the same thing for both of you,” was Nanami’s careful response. Gojo’s brow furrowed a little but he looked more relieved than anything else.
“No complaints,” Gojo smiled as he murmured, remembering. Nanami readjusted his posture on the bar stool. He physically braced himself to knock on a metaphorically locked door.
“No complaints, not a single one. I never answered you before. About what I want. I want to start properly. You and me without this bar between us. I think that’s enough for me, for now.”
Nanami had spit it out like if he didn’t do it quickly something else would come sweeping into the bar and stop him. Something as crazy and unpredictable as these last few weeks had been. Gojo smiled as Nanami finally took a deep breath, finally accomplishing his goal of confessing to Gojo.
Cool fingers brushed across Nanami’s face before securing a hold on his jaw. They guided Nanami’s mouth across the bar to meet Gojo’s. Soft and warm, he tasted like sweet cherries and oranges.
All that weight lifted and Nanami almost felt intoxicated by that feeling of relief.
“Is that an answer?” Nanami whispered against Gojo’s mouth when they broke apart for air. Gojo smirked around a small chuckle.
“I suppose so. I thought you needed it.”
“You do have quite the talent for that,” Nanami murmured back. Gojo leaned back down and across the bar to offer Nanami something sweet enough to meet his needs.
Nanami’s old-fashioned was abandoned on the bar top. The ice melted and mixed with the unconsumed alcohol and bitters. He forgot the drink in favor of devoting all his attention to the creator of it.
Eventually, the bar that had brought them together became too great a barrier between their bodies. Gojo recreated his stunt from their first meeting, easily hopping over the bar to get even closer to Nanami.
They spared only a moment to lock the front doors of the empty bar. Locking out the cold city and its lonely streets. Finally, Nanami was on the right side of those locked doors.
Once again Gojo led Nanami up steep stairs, taking even further from the outside world, past deadlocks. Once in Gojo’s space, slender nimble fingers Nanami had seen dance over glasses and bottles made quick work of Nanami’s tie and work shirt buttons.
If Nanami’s head wasn’t swimming with the taste and smell of Gojo he might have pondered the poetic irony of that. Having Gojo strip away the uniform of the salaryman. Only opening his bedroom door to Nanami when he is purely himself, the burdened man in a suit forgotten and left to walk city streets.
They bumped into a dresser that made a rather obvious sound they had been trying to avoid. Unsure of the silence that followed Gojo dipped out of his room to make sure the boy across the apartment continued to sleep unaware of their entrance.
Nanami took the moment of solitude to glance around Gojo’s bedroom. He was drawn by an orange glow to the window that looked down onto the road below. The angle provided an obscured view of the intersection that Nanami had almost fatally failed to cross. The glow came from the distant and broken crosswalk sign, still signaling a forceful halting hand.
Warning Nanami from ever trying to go past this bar, and its residents.
“Is there something out there?” Gojo whispered as he crept back into the room, locking his door behind his back. His clever eyes watched Nanami in the orange glow of the window.
“There’s nothing important out there. Not anymore,” Nanami whispered back.