Chapter Text
Shokos commute to work was a simple one.
Efficient In most regards. She was a time conscious individual that adhered to schedules to the best of her abilities.
Unsurprisingly, it was incredibly boring. But of course that was something that was expected. No aspect of catching a train and stopping for coffee was of immediate excitement or pleasure.
Just simply something that had to be done in order for her to function properly.
And above all else it was quiet.
Quiet, as were most of her independent tasks. Shoko enjoyed the sanctity of her independence. She always had.
Liked the idea of making decisions without needing to refer to someone else for immediate confirmation. It possibly gave her a false sense of control in a career that was as unforgiving as it was misogynistic and rewarding.
But that of course was a conversation for another time.
And sure, while one could argue that the process of arriving at work was hardly an independent one, being in the constant vicinity of hundreds of people with a similar task at hand , Shoko would just reinforce the fact that independence didn’t directly correlate with silence.
And that would be enough.
And so, today in an uncharacteristically entertaining manner, Shoko traded in her mobile spreadsheets and phone calls for hushed laughter and poorly disguised smiles.
And that, for her, was enough.
~*~
Shoko liked the way Satoru looked in a suit. It highlighted the maturity in his features that more times than not, were often overshadowed by his insistent refusal to take anything seriously.
The unfamiliar but slight push back of his otherwise messy hair made him appear more intelligent. Which he was.
Satoru Gojo, contrary to the most popular belief was not a dumbass. He was unfortunately incredibly intelligent.
He just made the conscious effort to showcase his other qualities. Like his humor, or lack there of.
Shoko knew that regardless of all this, her roommate/friend/ unofficial boyfriend had an IQ that most would consider to be impressive.
In all actuality most people who knew him personally knew that. They all just hated to admit to it.
Of course though it was a fact that was difficult to ignore to a certain extent.
It would’ve been impossible for the Gojo family to subject their favorite son to the trials of elite, private education and not have him walk away with some semblance of knowledge.
It just so happened that this fact was sometimes lost or forgot on by Shoko, and a suit acted a a subtle reminder.
The first time she had seen Satoru in a suit was their high school graduation, and it had been an awful day for him.
The day had started with a phone call from his mother, asking if she should visit him earlier to ensure that his suit had been tailored properly.
She was a doting mother. The kind that worried over decisions such as table arrangements, catering decisions, interior decorations, and suit fittings. And he loved her for it.
However, at the time he had been a freshly 18 year old boy who didn’t need his “mommy” running around to make sure his graduation suit fit properly.
Half of it was pride, and half of it was the fact that he couldn’t handle that kind of embarrassment.
In hindsight though, he should’ve taken his mother up her up on her offer, because the pictures proved he looked like a complete and total idiot.
He had spent his early morning day drinking with both Suguru and Shoko, a vast mistake on his end, trying to not compete but keep up with two experienced, borderline alcoholics, being a lightweight himself.
He stumbled back to his dorm while Shoko and Suguru laughed back to theirs, and when he slipped on the two piece suit he came to realization that not only was it to fucking small, but there was absolutely no way he was going to call his parents, asking for a replacement to be delivered.
Satoru, in all of his greatness and glory, would rather be castrated than have his parents see him drunk.
His parents, mother more than his father still saw him as their golden child and he had no real interest in ruining that false image.
This line of thinking made not a difference in hindsight considering the fact that he had failed to sober up in the few hours that followed.
So he sucked it up, stepped into the pants that more accurately looked like capris and waddled onto the stage.
When it came time for his diploma to be rested in his hand and shake Yagas, his mother gasped in horror as her buzzed son lazily smiled, his father sighed in true parental frustration, and his friends completely lost their shit.
Geto clutched his sides, double over and Shoko slapped her hands across her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughs as her mother scolded her to stop.
The duo followed through with their do diligence and took countless photos. His embarrassment and their delight being captured in the infinite that was camera storage.
And despite the fact that Shoko had long since abandoned her ancient flip phone for both practical and sentimental reasons, from time to time she’d crack it open and smile at pictures the boy who had grown up intertwined with her but in the grandest scheme of all things hadn’t changed all that much.
The second time she saw Satoru in a suit was their university graduation.
There were definitely times and events in between their time in both high school and college that required a suit but Shoko either wasn’t invited to these uppity events or he refused to wear them in front of her, opting to change when she was “far, far away.”
She and Suguru had supposedly “traumatized him.” And she’d roll her eyes wondering whatever the hell that meant.
But when another inevitable graduation situated itself in front of the pair, they knew that this was the end of his anti-suit strike.
“Im not wearing it.”
Shoko sighed, flopping back onto Satoru’s bed.
“You have to wear it. You’re mom’s gonna flip if you don’t.”
Satoru rolled his eyes, turning to look back at himself in his mirror. As he often did because he was incredibly vain at this point of his life.
“No shit Sho.” And then he paused, eyebrow cocked in confusion as he turned back around. “Do you and my mom talk or something?”
Shoko shrugged against his comforter and ignored his expectant expression.
“Why is it any of your business?”
“Cause she’s my mom.”
Shoko sat up, her slightly longer hair falling in front of her face as she did.
“So? Does it bother you?”
He shrugged walking over to his twin size bed, fully prepared to shove her over to make room.
“Depends. You guys talk about me?”
She scoffed.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not interesting enough to talk about.”
Satoru frowned and monopolized the space of his bed, which yes he was entitled to, but also it wouldn’t have been to hard to kindly ask Shoko to move over rather than flopping on top of her.
“Oh I’m so interesting. And handsome, and funny. There’s lots to talk about.”
Shoko flicked him on his head, smiling at the satisfying thunk that the action made.
“I’m not complimenting you Satoru.”
“Awww, why not?”
“Because.” She spoke as she attempted to push him off of her. “You don’t deserve it.”
He lifted himself up, hovering over her. Giving her the opportunity to move, and opportunity she failed to take.
“When will I?”
She shrugged, wrapping her arms behind his neck, watching him look down at her.
“Maybe by the end of the night, when I can compliment you as a person and not some stupid university student.”
“Ahhh, I see.”
“I’m glad you do.”
~*~
The graduation went according to plan. All things considered. For the first time in Satoru’s educational career, his pictures were taken with a sense of pride and not second hand embarrassment. His suit fit correctly and Shoko had one less thing to shit on him for. The highlight of his evening.
Oh, and he revived his diploma. But that was neither here nor there.
After the ceremony , and pictures, and congratulations and it was just the two of them in the corner of some party they felt obligated to show face at, Shoko rested her head on his shoulder and told him he looked nice.
He smirked, adjusting himself so she could comfortably lean against him. The base of the music reverberating in his ears.
“Sho, Thats the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day.”
Shoko nodded, lazy smile on her face.
“You look hot in a suit.”
Gojo laughed, lightly flicking her hair the way he often did because they were best friends.
“You think I looked hot?”
“Mmhmmm.” She took a drag of her cigarette and paused. “You look like your dad.” And then a long, agonizing pause followed suit. “Your hot dad.”
Gojo shrieked. And that was meant in the most literal sense of the world. As if he were a little girl and not a fully grown man.
“Shoko what the actual fuck?!”
Satoru pushed her away from-him as if she was carrying the plague.(and if she were, he’d probably be the last to know)
She fell into a fit of laughter, clinging to his arm for support.
“You’re disgusting. A nasty freak.”
Shoko sighed, using the back of her hand to wipe her eyes.
“Some people are into that Toru.”
He sneered, stepping forward reluctantly might he add, to hold her upright, still deeply disturbed by her sudden interest in his father.
“You’re not freaky in a sexy way, just in a weirdo way.”
Shoko leaned against him, her head feeling heavy, being weighed down by both her the alcohol in her system and the amusement of her jokes.
“You don’t think I’m sexy?”
Satoru rolled his eyes, reaching for her cup and placing it on the table beside them, without a coaster mind you. God he was such a rebel.
“No Shoko, I think you’re fucking odd.”
She frowned, eyes tracing the lines of his face and expression.
“You’re a dick.”
He cocked his eyebrow in confusion, still holding her.
“You just called my dad hot, I’m not saying anything nice to you.”
She scoffed, pushing him off of her.
“You think I’m ugly huh? You could’ve just said that Satoru.”
He sighed, respecting the space she had put between the two of them, but being conscious of her wavering stability.
“You’re not ugly Sho, just a lil off.”
She squinted, looking at him in a way that made him feel incredibly uncomfortable.
“That’s the worst compliment I’ve ever been given.”
“It wasn’t a compliment. Just an observation.”
She pushed him away, and he didn’t move.
“Screw you. Observe my ass.”
He tucked his hands in his pockets.
“I already have.”
She stared at him.
“Not funny.”
He sighed, pulling g his hands from his jeans to pull her into a hug.
She attempted to kick him in the dick, he dodged. Thank god.
He wrapped his arms around her and spoke into her hair.
“You’re odd Shoko, to the fullest extent. But you’re gorgeous. A little bit of an ass-hat, but gorgeous nonetheless. That’s probably why my mom likes you so much. She always wanted a pretty daughter to dress up.”
Shoko lifted her head, looking into his freakishly blue eyes.
“You mean it?”
“Would I ever lie to you?”
“And for once she couldn’t bring herself to say he was.”
~*~
Shoko looked up from her phone, watching Satoru glance out of the train window, admiring the way his fingers flexed over the handle of his brief case that was 100% empty.
She smirked, watching him dress up as the man he would’ve been if it weren’t for his incredible stubbornness and refusal to be the individual that had been predetermined for him.
She liked the fact that he was funny, unserious, intelligent and borderline asshole friend, who had become so much more.
Shoko leaned over, tapping him in the shoulder.
He turned his head, glancing down at her with a smile.
“You look nice Satoru.”
He smirked, situating his body to completely face her.
“As expected.”
She nodded in agreement, grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
“You look hot, like your dad.”
His smile dropped, forming itself into a hard line.
“You fucking freak.”