Chapter Text
When they are finally on their way back, Satoru feels jittery. He’s excited to meet the others, for real this time, without the underlying desire to hide or enforce distance. But the anticipation is also making him nervous. This time he won’t be a guest, but return to stay. He also missed calling Tsumiki and hopes she can forgive him.
The change is going to be huge. Not like leaving the Gojo estate and attending Jujutsu High. Satoru had been overjoyed to get away from the stuffy old rooms and the even stuffier elders, telling him what to do and showering him with presents whenever he decided to complain. It had been fun at first, but became boring and a little disheartening later once he realized they didn’t buy him nice things out of kindness, but to keep him docile. He had looked for someone to push and prod against, for someone to meet him head on, maybe even deny him, just for everyone to back away as soon as he dared to complain.
Today it’s different. This isn’t an environment filled with rules and punishments awaiting him should he desire to break them on purpose. This is Suguru’s dream and a pretty nice one at that and oddly Satoru is a little afraid to mess up the dynamic they had established. He doesn’t do well with being told no or to be careful or to be pleasant or polite or... literally anything. Everything not making sense to his mind is troublesome to reel in.
He wants this to work. He wants Suguru to succeed, wants to see Tsumiki again, to laugh with Haibara, banter with Shoko and annoy Nanami. He even wants to get to know Megumi despite the resemblance to Toji making him shudder. All in all, he wants to belong, not because he’s a fucking powerhouse of cursed energy, but himself, as delusional as this wish might be. Satoru isn’t stupid – sometimes he wishes he was, since obliviousness could be bliss – and knows most people can’t stand his personality. Finding one person and getting along with him was already miraculous enough, let alone several. So he couldn’t afford to ruin this.
Satoru is brimming with nervous energy, increasing with every mile they get closer to the temple and doesn’t quite manage to suppress the agitated bouncing of his leg.
“Suguru, tell your boyfriend to calm down or I’m going to make him walk the rest of the way!” Shoko sneers eventually. His restless movements must’ve rattled her seat.
Suguru looks up from his phone, until now busy typing various messages and frowns at him. Satoru won’t meet his gaze, staring resolutely at Shoko’s head and scoffs.
“I’m right here you know. You can tell me this yourself,” he shoots back.
She glances at him in the rearview mirror. “I would, if I thought you would listen.”
“I listen when it’s actually useful.”
He watches her roll her eyes. “So with you that means never. That’s precisely why I asked Suguru.”
“How dare you! You are so mean!” Satoru exclaims, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest. “Just yesterday you told me how much you missed me!”
“Eh, that’s what sleep deprivation does to a person,” her tone is dry, but Gojo still catches the slight hint of amusement she’s too slow to stifle.
He’s about to rummage his head for the perfect comeback, when a hand suddenly sneaks into his, intertwining their fingers with such a natural confidence, it halts Satoru’s thoughts. Slowly he looks at Suguru’s expectant and encouraging expression. The sight warms his cheeks unexpectedly. He hopes the resulting blush isn’t too noticeable.
One advantage of feeling bone-tired was ignoring the effort decency required. Therefore Gojo hadn’t second-guessed any of his decisions yesterday and allowed his instincts to guide him instead. This has led to sharing wonderful and tingling kisses and offering comfort and closeness without wondering about possible consequences. But now he’s well rested and with it quite aware of his actions and frustratingly also a little hesitant.
He’s grateful for Suguru beside him and would rather climb into his arms to cling to him like a needy little pest than keep sitting in place, but the car feels too restricting with Shoko present.
“I know it will take some adjusting. But you don’t have to worry. It’s going to be fine,” Suguru assures him optimistically and unlike Gojo has no qualms about leaning over and kissing him on the lips.
Satoru still can’t believe how soft they feel against his and happily allows Getou to coax his mouth open and welcome his tongue. His eyes slip shut with a dreamy sigh and the anxiousness drains from his body, leaving him limp and pliant instead.
At the wheel Shoko gags loudly. “Please get a room.”
Suguru breaks the kiss with a chuckle and leers at Shoko. His face is so smug Satoru wants to cackle with glee.
“Oh? Didn’t you say you hated watching us pine after each other?” The most shit-eating grin Satoru has ever seen unfurls on his expression. He’s enjoying this convo far too much. It’s such a good look on him. Gojo’s chest is suddenly brimming with warmth and affection.
“Wipe that smirk off your face!” Shoko scolds him with irritation. “And I take that back, please go back to arguing!”
Suguru meets his gaze and he affirms the playful twinkle shining in the dark orbs with the slight tilt of his head.
“Suguru. My love. Light of my life. My one and only,” he lilts theatrically, “did you hear that? Shoko truly has the sharpest and cruelest tongue. I think I’m going to cry, comfort me!”
“Oh no, we can’t have that! My sweetest, precious, perfect Satoru isn’t allowed to cry!” Suguru chimes in so solemnly as if he was reciting a play.
Their next kiss is messy, venturing on obscene and so freaking good. Satoru is about to moan shamelessly, when Shoko cuts the next corner especially sharp, yanking them apart by their seatbelts tightening suddenly.
They share a glance, a little flabbergasted for a second, before both of them erupt into roaring laughter.
“You guys suck,” Shoko grumbles, but it lacks any heat and does little to hide the tiny smile forming on her lips.
This time when they reach the temple Satoru readily jumps into Haibara’s waiting hug. In school his optimism had already felt contagious and nothing in this regard had changed. And perhaps the knowledge of people wanting him around got a little to his head, this wasn’t something he’d ever apologize for no matter the circumstances.
“You remember!” Yu exclaims in sheer delight, drawing a wide grin to Gojo’s features. “How much? Like everything or just moments?”
“Everything!” Satoru declares proudly, instantly dispelling the slight hint of worry crawling onto Haibara’s expression. “Even that time you bet on Suguru instead of me!”
Satoru had felt a little offended back then and fakes the same impression now. It was never the smartest choice to enter a wager with him, because Satoru tended to become awfully competitive. On top of that, if the prize consisted of free food or doing his homework or other chores for a week, it led to pettiness and obstinacy on his part. So naturally Satoru had won that bet and bragged the whole evening, until Suguru unleashed one of his curses on him.
Haibara scratches his head sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry. I really thought he would beat you.”
“Your lack of faith in me is insulting,” Satoru huffs and folds his arms.
It has the desired effect and launches the young man into a hasty explanation of his reasoning. Yu’s admiration for Suguru is still as endearing as back then.
A hand reaches for Haibara’s shoulders, interrupting the flow of words.
“Stop that, you are just inflating his ego,” a familiar blond figure advises, staring knowingly at Gojo. He tries to look unfazed, but the sharp wrinkles on his face melting away with recognition can’t escape the nature of his Six Eyes. On any other day Satoru would credit the fondness in Kento’s gaze to the soft spot he holds for Haibara. This time his eyes stay focused on Gojo, however.
Warmth spreads through his chest, carrying a feeling he hasn’t experienced often. A sense of belonging, usually reserved for Suguru, later extending towards Tsumiki and...
He halts the thought, refuses to think about her and ruin the atmosphere.
While Shoko and Haibara could be classified as friends, in the past it seemed as if they were Suguru’s friends first and his second. The lines had begun to blur over the last days, finally making him see the error in his deduction. There was no such thing as playing favorites, instead the notion existed solely in his head.
And Nanami, despite his open distaste for him, suddenly exuded the feeling of homecoming.
“Nanami!” he therefore calls in excitement and wraps arm around the other man’s shoulder. “You missed me!” He actually cared, something Satoru believed to be impossible until now.
The other is quick to shove his arm off, the familiar signs of annoyance and indifference returning to his features and wrangling with each other. But it’s too late, Satoru has noticed the signs Nanami tried to hide and won’t allow him to live it down.
“Hardly,” Kento answers drily.
A reply sits already on the tip of his tongue when Suguru approaches them, eyes scanning the area and clearly searching for something.
“Where are the twins?” he asks in lieu of a greeting, clearly eager to be reunited with the girls he’s come to view as his daughters.
“Running errands with Manami. They haven’t left long ago, if you hurry, you might still catch up with them,” Nanami explains.
Suguru sends him an apologetic glance, intent on following Nanami’s suggestion. Satoru waves him off, aware Suguru feels conflicted about leaving after reassuring him in the car. With yesterday’s scare it’s understandable he wants to make sure Mimiko and Nanako are all right and certainly doesn’t has to justify this desire to him.
Satoru has someone he wants to see, too. He messed up and needs to make amends. He removes himself from the light chatter and Shoko announcing dramatically she intends to shut herself into her room for the next hours and smoke until she passes out. Understandable, after the emotional rollercoaster they had to endure. She throws the keys to the rental car at Haibara to have it returned.
Satoru’s eyes already zeroed in on the familiar swirl of Tsumiki’s cursed energy and heads straight for the room she’s been sharing with Megumi since their arrival. His hand hovers awkwardly in the air for a couple of seconds once he comes to a stop at the closed door. A part of him demands to knock and wait patiently to be invited inside. Satoru pushes it down, raps his knuckles swiftly against the door and barges in barely a moment later.
“Good morning!” he greets with a wide smile as two pairs of eyes of turn to him.
Tsumiki is sitting at the edge of the bed with Megumi right behind her. His hands are fumbling with a hair tie. The boy’s expression withers at the sight of him.
“What’s up with you? It’s almost noon,” he grumbles meticulously.
With the grumpy face the little know-it-all looks far too much like his father. Involuntarily Satoru purses his lips morosely. Despite an inner pep talk and expecting Megumi’s presence, Gojo’s heartrate spikes regardless. This is becoming rather bothersome, so Satoru focuses on Tsumiki instead, ignoring the roiling emotions he isn’t yet ready to unpack.
It’s a good decision, because the sight of her draws a sudden laugh from his throat.
“What happened to your hair?” he blurts out bluntly.
Her hair has been forced into a weird knot, only remotely resembling a braid. At the base of her skull it appears incredibly tight, while it sits almost too loose at the tail where the hair piece is supposed to hold it together. Not to mention the amount of stray hairs sticking out in various directions. Overall she looks like a Barbie doll, falling victim to the first hairdressing attempts of a toddler.
Megumi puffs up, either offended on Tsumiki’s behalf or his own, considering he was responsible for the pathetic sight.
“I tried to braid it the way you did for her, because Tsumiki was sad you ran off!” the boy defends his creation.
Satoru winces. He deserves to be called out. His spur of the moment decision certainly wasn’t the most sensible way to deal with things overwhelming him. Even if he felt like leaving to be the best option, he should’ve eased Tsumiki into it instead of bludgeoning and expecting her to be fine with it in the long run. At the very least he should’ve kept his promise to talk to her in the morning. The events might argue in his favor and excuse his slip of memory. It wouldn’t take away the hurt he caused, though.
He doesn’t let the realization deter him for long, plants a smile on his face and steps over to the bed, nudges Megumi and prompts the boy to move over.
“Still no reason to ruin perfectly good hair!” Satoru replies and positions himself behind Tsumiki.
Up to this point she’s been quiet, the only acknowledgment of his presence disclosed by the watery shimmer in her eyes. She sniffles, a sound capable of breaking his heart. His smile wavers briefly, but Satoru recovers quickly, removes the hair tie and begins to untangle the unruly mop of hair.
“Tsumiki, don’t cry about your hair!” Gojo coos, trying to defuse the situation. Diversion has always been his strongest forte.
“She’s not crying about her hair!” Megumi hisses scandalized.
“Sure she isn’t, because I’m going to fix it right away,” he quips, not taking the conversation into the direction the young boy is clearly aiming at. Tsumiki hates watching people fight, especially when it’s about her.
So instead of adding to it, Satoru reaches out a hand, while the other is still busy taming the rebellious strands.
“Comb,” he demands, wiggling his fingers expectantly at Megumi.
“I’m not your servant!” Fushiguro bristles.
“And I didn’t ask.”
Eventually and under a lot of complaining, Megumi hands him the comb, watching Satoru work it through her hair like a hawk. As if waiting for the moment he pulls too sharply and makes her wince, therefore offering the young boy an excuse to jump him. Jokes on him, because Satoru has become a pro at this ever since Kaori had-
Fuck. The tension unfolding inside his body is hardly noticeable, but no less bothersome. Scraping at his conviction like a cat begging to be let out. The book filled with step-by-step instructions of countless braided hairstyles had been a thoughtful gift, one he tries and fails to separate from Kaori.
His mind is about to descend into the depth of conflicting memories, when Megumi suddenly leans over him, inspecting deft, yet slightly trembling hands, divide long strands of her dark hair. It yanks his thoughts back to reality. Satoru even feels grateful at the sight of Megumi’s miffed expression, obviously annoyed by the fact Gojo is doing an adequate job.
“Master Sato,” Tsumiki’s voice cuts through the heavy yet peaceful silence filling the room.
“Mh?” he hums in acknowledgment, molding her hair with single-minded rigor into a French braid.
“Are you going to stay here after all?” she wonders reluctantly, voice wavering slightly with the barely hidden apprehension.
“I am,” he promises her without hesitance. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” Satoru adds a little quieter.
Instantly her small shoulders seem to uncoil, dropping visibly with relief. Tsumiki neither curses him for the awful hours he forced her to endure nor does she cry. Instead the tight grip on her trousers relaxes as her hands begin to clasp in her lap in a clear show of contentedness, like she didn’t need more than his presence to be happy. Considering how much she valued kindness, this notion was probably correct.
Satoru will never understand how anyone could leave this bright and special girl, himself included.
“Can you do me a favor?” he asks her once he’s finished, grasps her by the shoulder and gently guides her to the mirror to examine his work. “There! You look perfect!”
Her eyes beam at him. Megumi looks similarly impressed by the result. Pride swells in his chest at the reaction of the siblings. He appreciates their excitement, even if the task itself had been a piece of cake.
“Of course, what’s the favor?” Tsumiki is quick to reply. She wraps her arms around his waist and hugs him in a silent show of gratitude.
His own comes up around her on instinct, drawing Tsumiki as close as possible without smothering her. “Please call me Satoru or Gojo,” he grins when she glances up, “I will also accept your favorite glorious guardian.”
“You are my only guardian,” she giggles.
“That’s not a no!” Satoru notes smugly, while Megumi rolls his eyes at their antics.
“So you do remember. I’m glad.”
The gentleness in her following smile startles him. Reliefs and happiness meets him in her softening gaze. “You are?”
“You don’t look forlorn anymore.”
He blinks. Satoru probably should’ve expected her perceptiveness, especially since he had been shit at hiding his miserable state most of the time due to prominent headaches. Still, it’s another one of those things added to the list he would’ve preferred to spare her.
Whining about it didn’t improve anything and wasn’t really his style either, so Satoru squares his shoulders and takes a grounding breath.
“I am really happy right now,” he declares honestly.
And because he can’t stand the thought of his emotional state claiming the spotlight, his eyes wander to Megumi, who has been waiting patiently for them to finish their conversation. The boy’s hair is a mess. Satoru wonders if it had ever gotten acquainted with a comb. A wicked smile forms on his lips.
“Do you think braids would look good on Megumi, too?” he wonders conversationally, sharing a glance with Tsumiki.
Through the mirror, Gojo watches Megumi’s eyes widen in horror.
It’s been a week since their return and Suguru can say with confidence that the girls are slowly starting to warm up to Satoru. This is caused by a couple of different factors. First, Suguru literally forced them. Since they didn’t even need to discuss going forward in their relationship and decided to move Satoru into his room right away. Satoru was admittedly a little clingy, but Suguru wasn’t any better after finally having him back. So when the twins ventured into his room, be it because of a nightmare, to tell him a funny story or to head towards the kitchen together to prepare food, Satoru would always be there. His partner was working hard to make amends as well, engaging in conversations about their hobbies and sharing his sweets with them willingly.
Mimiko and Nanako were still reluctant - a stubbornness he was probably to blame for - but the progress was visible.
So far Satoru hasn’t been given many opportunities to interact with many people. Suguru deems it necessary to keep Gojo’s survival a secret for the time being, aware it would draw in unwanted attention. So far Satoru is humoring him. Suguru knows the other could just stroll out of their home if he truly wanted to and no one would be able to stop him. He’s grown immensely powerful since regaining his memory and the time he invests to hone his new abilities merely seems to increase his strength.
Satoru was quick to inform him that if he really wanted to, he could keep Infinity up around the clock now, without running the risk of frying his brain, due to mastering Reverse Cursed Technique. It’s difficult sometimes, to say the least. Satoru wants to go out, support them and pull his weight. He isn’t made to sit idly and watch other people take the hits. The longer the arrangement continues, the more vocally Satoru protests.
Noticing Megumi’s potential as a sorcerer has offered some distraction. He shows him the basics and educates him on the capabilities of his technique.
Megumi becomes the topic of their current discussion too, seeing as Tsumiki has started attending the same school as the twins.
“You should allow him to go too. He’s bored out of his mind,” Satoru states from where he sits opposite of him, arms folded behind his head and rocking his chair back and forth.
Suguru looks up from the mission report he intends to hand to Nanami. Being aware of old patterns and making sure not to fall back on them is difficult, but he made a promise to Shoko he means to keep.
“That’s too risky with the Zen’in-Clan still on the lookout,” he reminds the other, frowning in disapproval.
Satoru snorts, waving off his concerns like usual. “I would get him out in no time and they wouldn’t dare to touch him again afterwards.”
While Suguru does not doubt Satoru’s judgement, this reckless behavior is exactly what he wants to avoid. Change is a long and tenacious process and he can’t see sorcerers agree to their views if one of them barges into an established system and wipes out all the assholes responsible for keeping it in place. Granted, it would be easier and sometimes Suguru just wants to go along with it, tear down everyone trying to step in their way. This would be destruction and not progress. It might offer the desired outcome for a time, but take roots on a wobbly foundation, just as easily toppled as any other half-cooked plan. Change had to come from within to prosper, outside interference or worse, fear, made it twistable and weak.
Therefore he shoots Gojo a warning glance. “Satoru-“
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We are trying to lay low,” he parrots in obvious distaste, stopping Suguru from delving into a lecture about priorities and risk assessment. “You know I could spot him or something like this. I wouldn’t even need to stay close,” he offers, looking rather bored by the topic and tilts the chair further. Getou is surprised he doesn’t topple right away.
Listening to Satoru talk like this is pretty endearing. He goes on about how annoying the boy is – or kids in general – but when it comes down to it, he fights tooth and nail to provide Megumi with the options he needs to grow strong and independent. His chest swells with love for the other man and also has him reconsider the decision.
It’s not a bad idea. With the Six Eyes Satoru could keep an eye on possible threats from far away without smothering Megumi at school. The only issue remained the potential confrontation.
“How about this,” Suguru suggests cautiously, “once you mastered teleportation, we give it a try?”
Suguru is still awed by the amount of abilities Satoru’s new powers have to offer. There’s already a pretty long list Gojo intends to learn, one goal more ambitious than the other.
With a loud bang the chair legs collide with the floor as Satoru lets it snap forward in favor of leaning over the table. He meets Suguru’s gaze, a giddy smile adorning his features while the blue irises gleam with excitement.
“Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal! I bet I can figure it out within a week!” he exclaims confidently, loving the challenge already.
Suguru chuckles. “I’ve learned not to bet against you, if I want to keep my pride intact.”
Satoru’s smile only seems to widen at his reply, his eyes soften with adoration however. Suguru feels the growing spark in the air, the desire and affection Gojo holds for him, urging him to lean in even more. Propping himself up on the table and messing up the order of some of the papers while crinkling others, until their noses are no more than a hand’s breadth away.
Suguru is about to lean in knowingly, when someone clears their throat behind them. Suguru turns to greet Manami and Gojo’s good mood vanishes instantly.
“Do you have a second?” she asks, not acknowledging the make-out session she almost walked into.
Standing up he follows her to the door, giving them at least the notion of privacy. Manami is accustomed to discussing issues involving their cause in private, while Satoru is used to receiving Getou’s undivided attention. It’s a compromise to keep the situation from deteriorating further. For some reason Gojo seems to actively despise her.
Suguru wants no fighting amongst his family and Manami takes the dislike in stride, far too mature and confident to indulge in childish quarrels. He’s been reluctant to address the topic, too anxious to risk the happiness they’ve achieved, but he won’t be able to stand by much longer. Even now Satoru watches their interaction with open aversion, arms crossed dismissively in front of his chest. He’s gone back to tilting the chair dangerously, somehow managing to balance his weight on one leg alone, while pressing a foot against the desk to maintain the outrageously skilled equilibrium.
Suguru keeps the conversation brief, listening to Manami convey the information she gathered about Kaori. The matter of her research is the reason he wanted to have the exchange take place somewhat secluded from Gojo, aware the other was still struggling with her impact on his life.
If he wanted to, he could probably read their lips, just that Satoru had never cared much about other people and therefore deemed it a waste of time. Suguru has the slight inkling he’s regretting this approach now with the way he’s sulking.
Not that Manami has much to share. Kaori – or rather Kenjaku – remains a mystery, the only interesting intel consists of a biological child, currently living with a grandparent. They would have to keep an eye on the kid.
Once they are finished a sly smile forms on Manami’s expression. “You might want to get a leash, before he bites someone’s head off.”
“Not helpful,” he replies dryly, grimacing slightly at the clear laugh escaping from her throat and merely increasing Satoru’s ire.
She winks at him with obvious amusement, before leaving for a meeting with authorities he knows she has scheduled for today. Turning around with a sigh, he joins Satoru at the desk once more, sending him an apologetic smile. It does little to improve his sour mood as he drums his fingers on his biceps in agitation. This is becoming a rather big deal for such a short conversation. Suguru inclines his head, regarding the other intently. Satoru avoids his gaze.
When it finally clicks, he snorts with laughter. “Don’t tell me you are jealous,” he snickers in disbelief.
Satoru’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, ere his face hardens in a futile display of indifference. It does little to hide the unhappy tilt of his mouth or the stubborn furrow resting between his brows.
“I’m not jealous! Why would I be jealous of someone like her?” he protests, scandalized.
It only succeeds in broadening Suguru’s smile. “You totally are,” he laughs. “You are such a bad liar.”
“I’m not! She just smells funny, ‘is all!”
“Smells funny? Are you even hearing yourself?”
A blush of embarrassment creeps to Satoru’s cheeks at Suguru’s lasting amusement. He huffs, jumps to his feet and is about to stomp out of the room. It sobers Suguru’s exuberant mood. He catches the other’s wrist before he can storm past him, noting happily how Infinity stays down around him even when Gojo is upset.
“Hey, come on now,” he murmurs in an appeasing manner. “You have no reason to be jealous, you know that, don’t you?”
“Sure, I don’t,” Satoru grumbles, snubbed. The cutting edge to his tone is directed at no one in particular and it gives Suguru pause.
Satoru has never been someone to second-guess himself or view other people as a threat, far too confident in the assurance of achieving anything he wants to. Even if that meant forcing himself into the lives of his classmates, wearing them down until they considered him a friend. So for some reason Suguru had expected their relationship to develop in a similar fashion, but he also had to take the last five years into account. Love had been used as a weapon against him, a means to manipulate and isolate him and turning out to be faked on top of that. It hadn’t been the kind of love that did the wrong things for the right reasons, but a pretended one.
Suguru knew it still messed with Satoru’s head and would continue to do so for a very long time, hence his secrecy about Manami’s research. Those thoughts couldn’t be allowed to fester like the lie of having been abandoned all those years.
“I love you,” Suguru tells him tenderly, carefully pulling his boyfriend into his arms.
The fight drains out of Satoru’s tense shoulders right away, yet the torn expression lingers stubbornly.
“I know,” Satoru is quick to reply and still manages to sound a little forlorn.
“Is it because I slept with her?” he guesses correctly, seeing as Gojo almost visibly recoils at the blunt phrasing. “It didn’t mean anything. She’s a friend, but I never loved her. Not like I love you.”
Satoru falls silent, his eyes alight with wrangling emotions. Whatever bothers him has him so clearly frustrated it makes Suguru’s heart twist funnily. Years ago Satoru would’ve laughed it off or told him right away what troubled him and he mourns the carefreeness that has been stolen from him.
Now Suguru can only wade into unknown waters, hoping he’s still as good at reading Satoru as he was five years ago.
“Or is it because I’ve been with her in ways we haven’t yet?” he wonders boldly.
Satoru’s downturned gaze snaps up to meet his, shining with want but also a hint of hesitation. Suguru hadn’t wanted to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. At the sight he understands now however, that it wasn’t really a matter of being ready but of voicing his desires.
“Is that it? Do you want me to take you? To make you feel good?” Suguru whispers huskily.
This time there is no reluctance. “Yeah. Do that. To me. Right now. Preferably,” Satoru stammers hastily. Heat surges through Suguru’s body at Gojo’s eager tone.
They exchange a brief, grounding kiss, before heading to their room. With the girls at school, Nanami teaching Megumi and the other’s out with various tasks, they wouldn’t have to worry about possible interruption.
Despite Satoru’s consent, he’s brimming with nervous energy. It won’t deter Suguru as long as Satoru wanted to continue, but he will be mindful and take things slow.
In the privacy of their room Suguru undresses him. He works purposefully but slow, giving Satoru ample opportunity to stop him. The shirt goes first, followed by undoing the button of his trousers and pulling them down his ridiculously nice, long legs. When Satoru stands just in his briefs in front of him, Suguru cocks his head in question, before sliding his fingers under the waistband. Gojo swallows audibly and nods quickly in affirmation.
A gentle smile spreads to Suguru’s lips. Satoru’s inexperience is almost screaming at his face and yet he barely hesitates, offering himself to Suguru with an incomparable sign of trust.
Once Satoru stands completely nude in front of him, Getou swiftly slips out of his clothing, giddy when Gojo becomes proactive and assists him readily. By the time they are done Satoru eyes him without shame, he can’t hide the blush creeping to the tip of his ears, though. It’s a notion that shouldn’t fit. Gojo Satoru being bashful. Yet here he is, adorably embarrassed and lost for words.
Suguru grins at him in smitten amusement.
“Cat got your tongue?” he teases.
Immediately, Satoru splutters. “Shut up!”
Suguru crowds him, nuzzling his nose, almost close enough to brush their lips together. “Never thought I would see the day,” he adds.
“Give me back my clothes,” Satoru huffs, annoyed. He doesn’t make a move to push Getou away, confirming it’s just for show, never one to admit defeat lightly, regardless of the circumstances. At times Satoru’s stubbornness is infuriating, right now it’s simply endearing.
“I don’t think so,” he hums with delight before meeting Gojo’s intense gaze. Standing this close Suguru can almost drown in his eyes. No longer do his irises carry the dull reflection of wrongness. Now they shine, akin to the sea in Okinawa, sparkling in the sunlight. Health and recognition a steady companion. “Let me take care of you.”
Suguru nips at his lips. His body tingles pleasantly each time Satoru returns the kiss, careful and precise as if he’s entered a competition. Sometimes it feels like it hasn’t quite sunken in yet, having him here, alive and remembering. Suguru will be overwhelmed with love and gratitude and the desire to hold him close and never let go – just like right now.
He deepens the kiss, slipping a tongue into Satoru’s waiting mouth. Satoru is eager to meet his pace, but has trouble keeping up, trying to figure out how far he’s supposed to go, so Suguru has to control himself. For the first time it’s not him stumbling to match Gojo. While they had different strengths, it was undeniable that Satoru was a scarily fast learner, picking up new abilities almost on the whim. Granted, his Six Eyes were of great help, always analyzing and adapting. Sooner, rather than later, Satoru would take him apart with pleasure and take pride in the newly attained skill. The thought makes him smirk into the kiss. He can’t wait.
He breaks the kiss too soon for Satoru’s liking, if the little whine of protest is anything to go by. Yet Suguru has to take these things slow as not to overwhelm him. Gojo isn’t used to being handled with care if he isn’t also the one initiating it or – and Suguru’s heart aches at the thought – a ploy to manipulate him. The proof sits in front of him, in his heaving chest and the pants, confirming he’d barely dared to breathe when they explored each other’s mouth without the barrier of clothes as a last sense of protection.
Suguru intertwines his fingers in the nape of Satoru’s neck and plants a tender kiss on his brow, right where Toji’s knife had entered his head. He starts from there, kissing his throat next and feels Satoru shiver under his lips. His mouth moves over his chest, down to his hip as he slinks to the ground, mapping the invisible scars, following the lines Satoru confided in him, to end on his thigh.
Satoru’s cock twitches with interest, already hardening from the tender caresses, each spot seemingly more sensitive than the other.
“Suguru,” Gojo gasps, a sound partially filled with anticipation and tension. Suguru tuts. That last one won’t do. The vibration of Getou’s voice so close to Satoru’s inner thigh causes goosebumps to erupt on his skin.
Getou cradles the other’s trembling hips, fingers digging into the plum swell of his ass and sucks at his balls.
Satoru’s breath hitches.
He doesn’t stop, licks along the underside of Gojo’s cock and teases the slit with his tongue, relishing in the little sounds he manages to draw out.
When he looks up, a funny expression resides on Satoru’s face. It’s contorted and concentrated, spasming occasionally as he blinks rapidly. His hands claw uselessly at the air, as if not knowing what to do with them.
Suguru takes pity on him, splaying him on the bed behind them, while remaining seated between his legs. Guiding one of Satoru’s hands to his head and into his long strands of hair, Suguru meets his gaze.
“You don’t need to hold back. I want to hear you,” he tells Gojo honestly. And when he won’t acknowledge that he heard him, Suguru lets his thumb rub relentlessly over the other’s cock head.
Satoru winces in surprise, an unexpected high-pitched wheeze escaping his throat. A wicked smile curls on Getou’s lips.
“Just like that,” Suguru agrees in delight.
“Fuck you,” Satoru spits, but it lacks in vitriol to feel threatening.
“Maybe later,” he amends happily, while he tenderly strokes over Gojo’s quivering thigh.
When he wraps his mouth around the throbbing length, the hand in his hair tightens.
Satoru curses, a moan slipping out right alongside, going straight to Suguru’s cock.
He begins to bob his head, matching his pace to the wonderful wanton noises. Satoru’s erection rests heavily inside his mouth, the taste of precum already forming on his tongue. He’s so sensitive and unused to intimate touches, Suguru already knows he won’t last long. It’s a shame truly. He could listen to his moans forever and wants to keep chasing the uncontrolled movements of his hips. The grip in his hair tinkers just on the right side of pain, making heat pool in his crotch.
“Su-gu-ru,” Satoru pants, every syllable broken off by a groan.
He’s close. Suguru hears it in the sharp intake of his breath and the feeling of rigid muscles.
“Stop! Stop! I can’t! Ahh!” Satoru gasps frantically.
Suguru places a warm hand on Satoru’s sweaty chest, right over his furiously beating heart, a soothing contrast to the onslaught of pleasure. Gojo clams just for a second, before he comes with a shout.
The thought of swallowing had turned him off in the past, but with Satoru, strangely enough, he doesn’t really mind.
The other is still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm by the time Suguru crawls next to him onto the bed, the hand in his hair long gone slack and dropped onto the mattress. He brushes the hair out of Satoru’s eyes and is met by a lazy grin.
“That was something,” he hums contently.
Suguru snorts. “Eloquent as ever.”
“Give me a break. That was my first time,” he grumbles without the usual heat.
“I know,” Suguru whispers, glad he could make it a good experience. He hadn’t been with a partner he trusted and cherished. For a brief moment he allows himself to mourn the lost opportunity, while also treasuring their newfound closeness even more. “You did amazing.”
“I did nothing. You did all the work,” Satoru laughs, amused by Suguru’s ridiculous notion.
He shrugs, a little embarrassed at how much he was already romanticizing the act. “You will get there.” This at least, was the truth.
On cue Satoru glances between Suguru’s legs, where he is still painfully hard.
“Speaking of getting there... do you want help with this?”
“I’m good,” Getou replies contently, already happy at the thought of lying next to him, stroking his soft skin and perhaps share some more kisses. “You don’t have to.”
“And if I want to?”
He searches Satoru’s eyes, but there is no hint of compliance out of pressure or guilt, only eagerness and a desire that makes him shiver when Satoru’s finger ghost over his naked skin. A blissful grin forms on his lips, dark hair floods over his shoulder as Suguru cocks his head in invitation.
Without any more prompting, Satoru surges forward, capturing their lips in a messy and uncoordinated kiss. A hand wraps around his length, making Suguru gasp in the other’s mouth.
He keeps the pace slow and languid, thumb teasing his foreskin until precum begins to aid his touch.
“Does that feel good?” Satoru murmurs into another kiss.
A low rumble of agreement erupts from Suguru’s chest. “Don’t stop,” he adds regardless, pressing against the warm body and sneaking an arm around his neck to keep him in place.
A soft laugh follows his desperate attempt for closeness, imbuing him with warmth. Suguru senses Satoru’s heartbeat, pushing against his sternum. It’s less frantic than his own, yet still too fast to be normal. He wishes he could soothe the rapid pace, coax it into sharing the same overwhelming rhythm of life he’s yearned to feel for so long. Satoru is so close, his hard nipples rubbing over his skin, hair tickling sensitive spots and yet it’s not enough.
His whole body is rocking in the cadence of his pulse. Pleasure ripples through his cock, gently at first but gradually gaining strength. Spreads to his spine, makes his toes spasm, his breath hitch and his heart miss a beat with the building tension.
It’s so much better than he imagined and incredibly easy to lose himself in Satoru’s care. This time Suguru is the one trying to catch up, as Satoru explores his mouth with vigor, swallowing the moans lured from his throat.
Satoru’s strokes don’t falter, instead the menace pauses abruptly when Suguru arches his back, certain he’s only seconds away from coming. The moment passes him by, crashing with frustration. He pants, detaching his kiss-swollen lips from the relentless mouth and blinks up at his boyfriend, trying to make sense of the sudden change. With his mind still hazy with lust, the process is slow. He takes stock of his body, his own hammering heartbeat, his cock still hard and throbbing – almost painfully so – and Satoru, grinning down at him like an imp.
Suguru’s eyes widen with realization. “You little shit!“ he hisses. He ends up chocking on the next insult. A thumb teases his slit, hand returning to work. “Fuck!”
“You look so nice like this,” Satoru practically purrs, “blushing from head to toe and all sweaty.” As if to prove his point, he starts sucking on the sensitive spot on his neck. His other hand wanders to his chest, playing with one of Suguru’s hard nipples.
He bucks his hips, chasing the movements of Satoru’s touch. The heat in his belly is back at full force, building and building and building...
This time Satoru doesn’t stop. Teeth grate his skin, biting down almost tenderly, before a tongue shoots out to caress the developing bruise, Suguru is sure he will be displaying for days. It’s the same sensation that pushes him over the edge. He comes with shout.
Satoru continues to stroke him through his orgasm. Only when he’s gone completely soft, does Gojo carefully retreat. By then Suguru is still panting, gratefully accepting the little pecks placed on his lips. His sly appearance has vanished. Now Satoru is almost skittish in his desire to make sure Suguru is okay, to make sure he didn’t overdo it and cross an invisible boundary.
It’s adorable, drawing a fond smile to Suguru’s lips.
“Come here,” he murmurs, pulling the other against his chest, not caring for the mess on his stomach. Satoru’s sinks into his arms pliantly, so he can’t mind it either. “Don’t fret.”
They share a few more lazy kisses, sneaking a love confession in every now and then that almost threatens to burst his heart with affection, before they eventually have to get up again. It’s a shame really, Suguru could’ve savored their closeness for eternity.
It’s warm for October. They are on their way back from buying the kids winter coats. Mimiko and Nanako hitting a growth spurt, while Megumi didn’t owe a usable one to begin with, whereas Tsumiki’s was a hand-me-down and old enough to guess its original color. Of course with the current weather the shopping trip turned quickly into a complaining trip, initiated by Nanako and occasionally supported by Megumi, – which had probably more to do with Satoru’s exorbitant reactions, – while Tsumiki and Mimiko submitted to the swiftly souring mood.
Suguru kept them happy by promising them ice cream on the way home, but with how long the children needed to pick out a suitable one, time was now waning swiftly. It didn’t help that they were covering the distance by foot and jumping on one of his curses got rejected due to the presence of too many non-sorcerers on the street.
“Come on! They are closing in ten minutes!” Nanako whines, staring in absolute misery at the couple of blocks that still separated them from the shop. Mimiko looks equally dejected, making Suguru curse himself for not suggesting the crêpe place he knew to stay open well into the evening.
A few steps in front of him, Satoru halts. He’s carrying Tsumiki on his shoulders since they left the store, shopping bags dangling in his hands and regards the unhappy expression on the girls’ faces carefully. Suguru can see the wheels turning inside his head, trying to come up with a possible solution. He begs desperately he won’t pull a stupid move like teleporting them. They are still trying to lay low, after all.
With the familiar Cheshire grin, he pushes the bags into Suguru’s arms, grabs each girl by the waist and hoists them into his arms.
“Last one there is on dish duty ‘till the end of the month,” Satoru lilts, pointing his gaze particularly at Megumi, who tenses instantly. “Hold on tight!” he calls to the girls and then he runs off.
“That’s not fair!” Megumi exclaims, hurrying after him.
“Then try to keep up!” Gojo hollers over the shrieking laughter of the twins.
Suguru chuckles. The insults Megumi yells after Satoru have some of the people on the streets turn their heads in affront. He follows them at a much slower pace, fond and grateful for the friendly relationship Satoru has managed to form with Mimiko and Nanako over the last weeks, as he maneuvers the bags into one hand. His worries had been in vain. While Satoru had trouble connecting with people, children seemed to be the exception, easily adapting to his silly nature, like kindred spirits finding each other. Of course the same couldn’t be said for Megumi, but on the one hand he wasn’t a typical child and on the other tried to hide his love for Gojo feverously with various stages of success.
Suguru is about to reach the shop, when a familiar figure steps out of an antique shop, probably brimming with cursed objects. He freezes, opposite of him, Yaga does the exact same.
While he isn’t worried about Yaga trying to detain him, he can’t say the same for possible companions. After all, whenever Yaga feels like a mission seems fishy, he reaches out to Suguru and offers it to him first, before handing it over to an unprepared student. Their former teacher was smart enough to be aware of the messy system he endorsed, but too interwoven with its workings to break away from it.
“Suguru,” he says with surprise, whereas Getou merely nods in acknowledgement, gaze wandering briefly to the shop hosting almost every important person in his life. “This is a pleasant surprise. I was about to reach out to you anyway.”
Suguru raises his brows. At least this unexpected meeting didn’t seem to be initiated by official business.
“Master Tengen is requesting to see you. Apparently you-“
“No,” Suguru interrupts him, already feeling slightly irritated. Years ago he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to meet the being responsible for protecting the school and the master of barrier techniques. Wishes of another lifetime, unachievable and unwanted now. Going back to school resembles suicide, even if Yaga and Tengen were to ensure his safety. It seems like the old fool still hasn’t realized how this game is played. Not even warning him of Toji’s approaching attack on his family changed that.
It’s a testament to how well Yaga controls his emotions that Suguru can’t tell if his answer offends or discourages him.
“At least think about it. If Tengen asks to speak to you personally, it’s important.”
“I stand by what I said,” he repeats, brusquer this time.
His sensei opens his mouth to respond, if in another way to convince him, Suguru will never know, for Yaga’s eyes widen suddenly. He blanches, staring openly at something like he’s seen a ghost.
“Yo,” Satoru greets, leaning an arm on Suguru’s shoulders in a picture of nonchalance. “Long time no see, sensei.”
Suguru sighs. It was probably wishful thinking, to hope they could hide Gojo from the mindful eyes of Jujutsu society for a little longer. So instead of a lecture, he smiles fondly at his partner.
“Satoru?” Yaga rasps, a watery note slipping to his voice and catching Suguru off guard. He hadn’t expected the sight to affect their teacher this much. “Is that really you?”
Satoru grins. “You should’ve listened to Suguru.”
The show of support means more to Getou than Gojo could anticipate. Involuntarily, he intertwines their fingers. Of course the motion is spotted immediately by Yaga’s watchful gaze.
“I’m sorry. I failed you... both of you,” their teacher amends, sincerely. At the onslaught of regret on his features, Suguru starts to feel a little uncomfortable.
“Eh, water under the bridge,” Satoru waves the man off. “We would appreciate it, if you could keep this information to yourself for now. I want my return to be memorable.”
Exaggerated, Yaga huffs, but agrees to their conditions. Unlike Satoru, who never manages to read a room or tends to do the opposite just for zest, sensei notices quickly he has overstayed his welcome. They say their goodbyes and wait until Yaga’s cursed energy fades away, before Suguru pulls the other man into a kiss, a reassurance he desperately needs after the sudden encounter. Satoru hums happily, always managing to stay relaxed in the most nerve-wrecking situations, while becoming shy and unsure when he expresses his fears and weaknesses.
“Where are the kids?”
“Devouring their ice cream. Come on, I’ve had Tsumiki look after yours and mine, but I don’t know how long she will be able to defend it against these gremlins.”
Suguru laughs, light and carefree. “Well, we can’t have that,” he announces and pulls Satoru along.