Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

part two

—

four

Megumi wakes to an incessant pounding on his bedroom door.

The most likely culprit is Nobara. Normally if she needed to wake him up she wouldn’t hesitate to barge in, jump on him, and smother him with a pillow until he’s forced to shove her off. However, the last time she tried that (literally three days ago) resulted in her getting a full-frontal eyeful of Yuuji and thus she has not attempted it since. Instead, she’ll now make as much noise as possible to annoy him into answering the door, including screaming profanities and threatening bodily harm. In this case, however, the intruder isn’t yelling, which points to it not being Nobara, surprisingly enough.

The second, slightly less likely option is Yuuji himself, who has a tendency to forget that other people do not wake up at the ass crack of dawn to run like psychopaths. However, that’s immediately ruled out because for one thing, Yuuji always takes care to wake Megumi up as sweetly as possible, and for another thing, Yuuji’s arm is currently thrown over Megumi’s waist. So, unless he managed to clone himself, he can’t possibly be on the other side of the door.

The third, most frightening possibility is Gojo. Megumi wouldn’t put it past his wayward guardian to show up, sneak into the apartment, and force a meeting between himself and Yuuji even after Megumi expressly forbade him from doing so. Or, well…he hasn’t exactly had the chance to actually forbid him, since he hasn't even told him about Yuuji yet.

That’s a ticking time bomb if I’ve ever seen one. Fuck.

Luckily enough, or maybe not so lucky if he thinks about it, the real answer is none of the three. When he doesn’t manage a response beyond some grumbling at the noise, his door swings open, slamming against the wall and rattling his furniture. He sits up and glares at whoever dares disturb him at, he checks his phone, seven on Saturday morning. Yuuji’s arm almost falls off Megumi and the pink-haired man snuffles a bit in his sleep before tugging Megumi closer by the hips and beginning to snore once again. His proclivity to sleep like the dead, in full manifestation.

That being said, Megumi can’t hide his surprise as Maki bursts in frantically, eyes wide while she shakes her phone out in front of her. Maki was quite literally the last person on his mental list of suspects, if she was even on it at all.

“Maki? Wha—”

“Have you checked your email yet?”

“What? Maki, it’s seven a.m. How did you even get in my apartment?”

She frowns at him and storms across the room, shoving everything off his bedside table until the only thing left is his phone, still plugged into the wall. She turns it on, ignoring Megumi’s protests and continual questioning as she holds the device up to his face to unlock it and begins to tap on the screen. Megumi is too shocked to stop her.

“Nobara let me in, obviously. Now, look.” His cousin shoves the phone in his face. She’s got some email pulled up and Megumi has to lean back to make out any of the text without going cross-eyed.

Dear Zen’in Megumi,

Please find attached your formal invitation to the engagement celebration for Zen’in Naoya and his fiance. We look forward to welcoming you to the Zen’in estate tomorrow evening…

My last name is Fushiguro, you fucks. Megumi doesn’t read any further, snatching his phone from Maki’s hands and rereading the first two sentences of the email over and over again. “What the fuck?”

“That’s what I said!”

“You got an invitation too?”

Maki nods, tugging her own phone out of her jeans pocket and opening a matching email, complete with the attached PDF and everything. She clambers onto the bed, having to crawl over Yuuji’s sleeping body to sit cross-legged, face to face with Megumi. She not-so-accidentally kicks Yuuji in the stomach, and the man groans as the pain forces him awake. His grip on Megumi tightens as his eyes flutter open. Megumi is slightly amused as confusion crosses his boyfriend’s expression, and then a fierce blush takes its place when, in rapid succession, Yuuji becomes aware of the third person in their bed, and then his state of undress, and then the precarious position of the comforter in protecting his modesty. Thankfully, Megumi had the foresight to put on a shirt and some boxers the night before (forever scarred by meeting Nanami), so he’s not in such a compromising position. It’s even funnier to think that Yuuji must have had to get dressed to go on his run and still chose to get naked whenever he crawled back into bed. When Yuuji speaks, his voice cracks hilariously, “Baby, why the hell is Maki here?”

Megumi waves him off, momentary infatuation with his boyfriend’s cute ‘just woke up’ face succumbing to the overwhelming panic this email is stirring up within him. “Why the fuck are we invited to Naoya’s engagement party? Is he dense or is his ego that fragile where he needs people who openly despise him to be forced to attend?” He tuts to himself under his breath and wonders who the hell Naoya conned into accepting his proposal. They didn’t even put her name on the damn invitation…poor woman, she must have no idea what she’s signing up for.

Maki shrugs, biting at the skin around her thumb. It’s a habit they both share, and it tells him that she’s much more nervous than her otherwise relaxed posture is letting on. “I don’t know. Of course the assholes only tell us about it the day before, too! Like we don’t have our own lives keeping us busy.” She punctuates the complaint with a scoff, eyes glued to the message still displayed on her phone. Her eyes harden. “We have to go.”

Nose wrinkling in distaste, Megumi shakes his head. “What? No way. I am not subjecting myself to any more interactions with the Zen’ins than necessary. Why would you even want to go? You hate them more than I do.”

The woman shuffles back off the bed (kicking Yuuji again in the process), nodding continuously to herself. Megumi can tell she’s forming a plan by the way her forehead tightens as she stares off into space, and that unnerves him because Maki with a plan is scary and entirely unavoidable. “We’re going.” She leans over and takes Megumi’s face into her hands. Her grip on his cheeks is tight enough to make him wince. “We’re going, and I’m bringing Nobara, and you’re bringing Itadori.”

That elicits a noise of surprise from Yuuji, who is still laying on his back, now with Maki hovering over him. “I’m so confused, where are we going?”

Again, the ‘Zen’ins’ in the room ignore him.

“Flaunting our non-heterosexual relationships at Naoya’s hyper-heterosexual engagement party is only going to piss him and Naobito off.”

Finally releasing Megumi’s face, Maki takes a step back. She’s grinning now, like a shark. “Exactly. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when we stroll up looking good as hell and gay as fuck and take all the attention off the insufferable couple.” Her brow furrows when he still shakes his head, and she shoves his shoulder much harder than necessary, nearly sending him sprawling off the bed. Yuuji’s arm, still hooked around his waist, is all that keeps him from falling.

“Hey, watch it! And can someone please explain what the hell is going on? I don’t appreciate all the shouting this early in the morning.” Yuuji sits up now, forming a pseudo-blockade between Maki and Megumi with his body. He sticks one arm out like a shield and takes a second to check his own phone, face contorting in confusion before he shakes his head and continues glaring at Maki.

Maki acquiesces, backing up with her hands raised in surrender. “Alright, alright. Megumi, meet me in the living room when you finish getting ready so we can discuss further.” She crooks two of her fingers and points them at her eyes, and then at Yuuji, while backing out of the room ominously. “No funny business, Itadori. Me and your boyfriend have urgent, serious business to attend to.”

Grumbling, Yuuji buries his face in Megumi’s neck and waves Maki away. Megumi chuckles, running a hand through his boyfriend’s tangled pink hair while nodding at his cousin. “We’ll be out in a few. Can you make some coffee?”

The dark-haired woman nods and shuts the door behind her, finally leaving the couple in blissful, early morning silence. Dislodging Yuuji’s hold of him, Megumi goes to get up and walk to the bathroom, only to be pulled back down and pushed onto his back with Yuuji climbing over him to straddle his hips and bracket his head with his forearms.

He lets out a little pleased sigh. His boyfriend is so handsome. The light streaming past the partially closed curtains creates a halo effect around Yuuji’s form, and his bare chest is still marked up from the night before. Megumi knows he has to get ready and go talk with Maki, because anything involving the Zen’ins really is serious business, but right now all he wants to do it stay here, under the comforting weight of his boyfriend, and rot the day away like some eighteenth century courtesan who’s got nothing better to do than dress in fine clothes while they lounge around in bed and stuff themselves full of sweets. He doesn’t even like sweets, but still the fantasy burns itself into his brain. In another life, he wouldn’t mind being a courtesan to Yuuji’s noble.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on? Or am I gonna have to get the information out of you some other way…” He’s nosing along Megumi’s collar bones. It tickles, which draws a small giggle from Megumi, but nonetheless he tries to free himself from the cage of his boyfriend’s huge arms, shaking the fantasy from his mind.

“I’ll tell you after we get ready. I seriously need coffee for this conversation.”

Yuuji groans and drops his full weight onto Megumi, who lets out a small oof at the unexpected pressure. Encouraged by the giggling, the pink-haired man continues to push his face into Megumi’s neck, and then he starts to kiss it, mumbling out, “Do you think she was serious about the ‘no funny business’ thing? ‘Cuz I’m in the mood for some funny business.”

“Yuu! Stop, that tickles!” Megumi pushes harder on Yuuji’s shoulder, managing to reverse their positions, shoving the larger man onto his back before pinning his arms down. “No funny business. Especially with morning breath.”

“Not even a little bit? Maybe some light making out? Or a dash of non-sexual, over-the-clothes groping?”

“None. Now, get up and get dressed before Maki comes in and uses her black belt on us.”

—

yuuji’s pov

After no less than three (whole-hearted) efforts to tempt Megumi back into bed before they go about getting ready, Yuuji relents and lets his boyfriend go to the bathroom. He’s still peeved that they were woken so rudely, but Megumi seems thrown off enough by whatever nonsense Maki was spouting that he doesn’t bother complaining again, even though he loves the face Megumi makes when he’s grumpy from being woken up too early.

Sue him, he might be a morning person but he likes his mornings to go a specific way. Specifically, he likes his mornings with Megumi to go a certain way. He likes to wake up at dawn after dreaming of Megumi, spend no less than ten minutes admiring Megumi’s relaxed side-profile (he’s always so tense when he’s awake, it’s like a little treat to see him so soft), go on a run and think about Megumi, shower and think about Megumi some more, then crawl back into a warm bed where he can lounge for the next few hours while awaiting Megumi’s internal alarm clock that almost always wakes him at eight a.m.

It’s still a little weird for him, waking up beside someone every day. He knows it’s only temporary, that they’re only sharing a space the way they are because they’d agreed to spend the break together and Yuuji himself suggested that him staying over would make things easier, but he loves it. He loves it so much. He’s spent so much of his life having lonely mornings. No siblings to fight over the bathroom with, no parents to scold him for missing the bus, no pets to jump all over him and slobber on his face until he’s cramping from laughter.

He’d had his grandpa for a while, but Wasuke was too old to keep up with Yuuji’s boundless morning energy when he was a kid, so Yuuji ended up letting the old man sleep late most mornings, finagling his own breakfast from the random assortment of goods in their fridge and pantry and finding his own way to school by walking or begging a ride off one of their neighbors. And then Wasuke was in the hospital and it didn’t matter either way. Nanami, for all the good he’s done in Yuuji’s life, was never one for spending mornings together. He would occasionally show up at the Itadori apartment with some fresh cafe pastries and hand-squeezed orange juice, but he was never one to be there when Yuuji woke up. They never lived together, anyway. Then, there was Choso, but by the time he came into Yuuji’s life he was already too old for his guardian to wake him with a flurry of kisses all over his face or by tickling his stomach to prove he was pretending to still be asleep like the parents do in every movie about family he’s ever had to analyze for a class.

So, Yuuji got used to lonely mornings. It’s why he developed a routine, one that he stuck with all through high school and college so far.

But now, at least for these four weeks, his mornings are far from lonely. He gets to wake up to the warmth of his favorite person, he gets to wake his favorite person, in whatever way he’s feeling that day. Megumi is always so pliant in the mornings, brain addled with sleep and rapidly forgotten dreams, and he’s always so receptive and happy to be woken up by Yuuji. Each day Yuuji likes to try waking him up in a different way. So far he's tried letting Shiro and Kuro lick Megumi’s face, breakfast in bed, playing music, morning sex, tickling, kissing, hugging, squeezing, massaging, the list goes on. And every time he’s absolutely delighted at the minute changes in Megumi’s responses. It’s fascinating to watch the permanent frown melt off someone who’s so unnecessarily (but adorably) serious when they get woken up in a way they like.

Unfortunately, on this morning, this routine which he holds so close to his heart was rudely interrupted by Zen’in Maki. Yuuji likes Maki. Really, he does. He’s gotten pretty close with Kugisaki since he got her number after meeting Megumi, and he likes that Maki seems to make her happy. Plus, she’s Megumi’s cousin (aunt? he’s not too sure) so there’s like something programmed in his genetic code that makes him like her at least a little bit (he doesn’t really know how genetics work). He likes her, but he can’t help but harbor a little irrational anger toward her, at least until he’s fully awake and comes to his senses.

While Megumi is in the shower Yuuji takes the opportunity to go through his notifications. He immediately opens the most recent one, the one that he got a glance at while checking the time during Megumi and Maki’s argument.

Dear Itadori Yuuji,

Please find attached your formal invitation to the engagement celebration for Zen’in Naoya and his fiance. We look forward to welcoming you to the Zen’in estate tomorrow evening to honor the beautiful couple.

This event aims to bring together friends and family in a manner befitting the heir to the Zen’in Clan. As such, guests are encouraged to abide by a black-tie formal dress code and refrain from bringing uninvited individuals or unapproved plus ones. Food and drink will be provided. For any dietary restrictions please contact the caterer as detailed on the attached invitation.

To RSVP, please click the link below. Your prompt response is much appreciated.

The Zen’in Clan is overjoyed at this happy announcement, and Clan Head Zen’in Naobito has spared no expense to ensure all of our guests are able to properly celebrate.

Best,

The Zen’in Clan Communications Department

Yuuji finds himself scratching his head. Why the hell is he invited to this event that’s got Maki and Megumi in a tizzy? And what even is the Zen’in Clan? He knows that’s Maki’s last name, but he also knows that she smacks anyone who tries to use it to address her. He’s got no idea why this involves Megumi, unless he’s related to Maki through these Zen’ins somehow? If so, on his dad’s or his mom’s side? Yuuji never thought to ask exactly how they were related, but he’s starting to wish he had. Plus, who even identifies as part of a clan anymore? That’s so old-school Japan. Like, feudal type old-school.

The sound of the shower shutting off makes Yuuji jump and toss his phone across the bed. He scrambles to turn it off before Megumi emerges, freshly washed and still naked. Damn, he wants to get up to some serious funny business right now. He can’t hold back his wistful sigh, and the noise has Megumi laughing loudly as he pulls on some comfortable day clothes and tosses a shirt and pair of pants at Yuuji’s head.

“Get dressed, idiot.”

Yuuji had showered about an hour ago when he got back from his run so he doesn’t bother a detour to the bathroom (also, he has no morning breath because he already brushed his teeth when he first woke up, so Megumi was just making up excuses earlier. This day already sucks).

When they’re both presentable, they make their way to the living room. Thankfully, there’s two steaming mugs of coffee awaiting them on the dining table. Megumi hisses and puts both of them on the coasters Maki had forgone before taking a seat and pulling Yuuji into the one next to him. Yuuji shuffles his chair over, loudly, until their sides are flush together and he can wrap an arm around Megumi’s waist and drink his coffee with the other.

“You guys are so gross,” Maki gags out. The words lack punch when Kugisaki is literally draped across her lap with her eyes closed, head cradled by Maki’s shoulder.

“You’re one to talk,” Megumi responds, eyeing up his roommate and her not-girlfriend (oh how the turns table, Yuuji thinks). Kugisaki, eyes remaining shut, tells him to fuck off, which makes Yuuji laugh. This earns him an elbow to the ribs.

Taking a long sip of his coffee, Megumi raises an eyebrow at Maki. Yuuji figures it’s probably best to just listen and try to gain some information before sharing that he was invited to this engagement party they’re so worked up about. He’s not sure how they’ll react.

Megumi ends up speaking first, to Yuuji’s surprise.

“Listen, I get that you have this whole vendetta where you want to do anything you can to piss off the Zen’ins, but I really don’t think going to the party is a good idea. Naoya literally tried to kill me when we were kids, and I doubt he’s gotten any less volatile since then.”

What? He must be joking. ‘Tried to kill him’?

Maki bites her lip while she thinks. “Maybe it’s a bad idea, but that doesn’t make me want to go any less. I want to shove my success, our success, in that little prick’s face and rub his nose in it. He was so bitter when he didn’t get into this university, and the day I got my acceptance letter and taped a hundred copies of it all over his room is still one of my only good memories from that hellhole. Imagine how hard he’ll crash out when he sees us both in happy, fulfilling relationships, with killer grades and excellent internships to boot.” She laughs, sounding only a little maniacal. “It’ll be awesome.”

“You’re in a happy, fulfilling relationship now? Since when?”

Kugisaki lifts her head from its perch on Maki’s shoulder, one eye opening and glaring at Megumi. “Excuse you. We made it official like three weeks ago.”

“That is such a lie. You were literally complaining to me about not having a label like three days ago. You’re only saying that so it seems like you got together before me and Yuuji did, which you definitely didn’t.”

She scoffs, flicking her short hair over her shoulder (hitting Maki in the face in the process, but the older woman doesn’t seem to mind). “Believe what you want! Point is, we’re together now. Girlfriends. Way happier and more fulfilled than you bozos, that’s for sure.”

Yuuji stifles his laugh lest he get elbowed again.

“Whatever, the ‘when’ of it all doesn’t matter. Are you going to stick it to those Zen’in assholes with me or not?” Maki puts on an air of confidence, but her voice warbles a little by the end of her question.

Sighing, Megumi sets down his coffee so he can rub his temple, keeping his other hand on Yuuji’s thigh. This makes Yuuji’s stomach twist pleasantly, like a hotdog on a gas station warming rack.

“Even if I were to agree, neither of us got plus ones and the invitation expressly forbids us from bringing uninvited guests, so we couldn’t bring Yuuji and Nobara with us which defeats the point.”

Maki looks like she’s got a rebuttal prepared, but Megumi’s words kickstart Yuuji’s brain and he suddenly remembers that he actually has something to say. “Uh, I have a solution for that. Or, well like fifty percent of a solution.”

His boyfriend turns to look at him, eyebrow cocked. “You have fifty percent of a solution? What does that even mean?”

Yuuji shifts in his seat, putting down his coffee so he can pull his phone out of his butt pocket. He takes care to delete the various other notifications he’s received in the last half hour that might embarrass him (ten or so texts from Todo, a hundred in his frat group chat, a handful from Choso and Nanami, a bunch of instagram DMs, the like). He opens up the email that contains the invitation and sets the phone down in the center of the table. Maki snatches it up, eyes widening as she scans in information. He catches Kugisaki peeking at it as well, a similarly shocked expression growing on her face.

“What? What is it?” Megumi whines, looking between Yuuji and Maki indignantly. “Let me see!”

“You’re such an impatient ass, oh my god. Here.” Maki slides Yuuji’s phone back across the table and Megumi picks it up.

It’s quiet, for a moment, and then—

“Huh?! The fuck! How the fuck—why the fuck—what!” Megumi whips around, accusing finger jabbing into Yuuji’s chest. “What did you do? Why did you get an invite? How do they even have your email!” At some point the questions devolve into random rhetorical statements, and Yuuji gets the feeling Megumi isn’t expecting him to really answer. The dark-haired man has got his hands in his hair, pulling tight in disbelief, as he continues to murmur in confusion. Sympathetically, Yuuji rubs his hand over Megumi’s back, only to be swatted away and glared at.

Yuuji holds up his hands. “Hell if I know! I just checked my email and saw the message, same as you. I don’t even know what the Zen’in clan is!”

“Megumi! You haven’t told him about the Zen’ins? I thought you’ve been introducing each other to family recently?” Maki scolds, tutting like a disappointed mother.

“No I—what—hold on now. First, why aren’t you just as shocked as I am? Second, why would I tell him about the Zen’ins? They aren’t my family any more than a perfect stranger on the street. And they tried to kill me. Like, literally.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“No you’re not being dramatic enough! Fuck!” Megumi bangs his hands on the table and his head follows suit, forehead colliding painfully with the dark wood. Yuuji winces, hands twitching with the desire to calm his boyfriend down.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you, baby. I really don’t know why or how they invited me, honest.”

Face still pressed to the table, Megumi groans. He rolls his head over, peeking at Yuuji with one eye. “I know, you don't need to apologize. Sorry for yelling.”

Emboldened by Megumi’s quieter tone, Yuuji reaches out a hand to smooth over the back of Megumi’s head, taming any errant strands. He hums happily when he isn’t pushed away and chooses to let his hand rest on the back of Megumi’s neck for as long as he’s leaning over like that. “Uh, we can get to this engagement party stuff in a second, but what do you mean these guys tried to kill you? That seems, like, a total deal breaker as far as familial relationships go.”

Megumi turns his face back to the table, sighing. “You have no idea.”

“Earth to gay boys! Hello, there are two other people at this table, ya’know.”

“Can it, Kugisaki,” Megumi mumbles as he takes a free hand and grabs one of Yuuji’s, holding it in his lap.

Maki rolls her eyes. “He’s being dramatic, Itadori. When we were kids Naoya was pissed that Naobito was considering naming Megs here the clan heir, so he beat him up. Granted, it was a pretty bad beat down because he was nineteen or something and Megs was only a kid, but I wouldn’t exactly classify it as a murder attempt.”

Teasing, Yuuji pokes the back of Megumi’s head. “I thought you had a perfect record as a delinquent?”

“I was seven, you dick. It doesn’t count as a fight when the guy was basically an adult trying to murder—” he gives Maki the stink eye, “—a child.” He sighs, finally lifting his head from the table only to sink down in his chair. The hand Yuuji had on his neck slides down, so Yuuji readjusts and throws his arm over Megumi’s shoulders to pull him into his side. “Whatever. Murder attempt or not, he hates my guts so I don’t think it’s a good idea to go to his engagement party with the sole purpose of antagonizing him. And we still haven’t figured out how we would get Nobara in for this stupid plan to work.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Kugisaki chimes, fingers tapping away on her phone. “I just made myself an invite based on Maki’s. If they try to not let me in I’ll threaten to pitch a bitchfit. Those snooty types hate a scene, they’ll cave for sure. No sweat!”

Maki grins, nosing Kugisaki’s cheek fondly. “See! Problem solved. And Noh makes a good point, even if Naoya hates you more than the rest of us he’s not gonna make a scene at his own engagement party over it, he cares too much about his image plus it would put him on Naobito’s shit list.”

“Uhg! I hate you both so much.” The dark-haired man rubs a hand across his face, stretching the skin comedically. “Fine! We’ll go. But only because I am highly suspicious of this entire situation, especially with Yuuji involved, and I think it’s better to be there and gain some info first hand. Not as part of your petty plot. Got it?”

“Sure, whatever. Just you being there with a boyfriend serves my purposes anyway.”

Yuuji frowns. He is still so, so confused about this entire situation. “Why are you guys talking like this is some mafia plot? This is your family, right? A fight from years ago can’t still be the reason for so much tension all these years later.”

Megumi squeezes Yuuji’s hand with a sigh. “I guess it’s time to face the music. I was really hoping you’d never have to interact with the Zen’ins, like ever, but I guess it was inevitable. I’ll give you the rundown later. Right now, I just want to go back to bed and forget this entire situation is even happening.”

Well, Yuuji smiles to himself, I can help with that, no problem.

—

“Wait, so your dad is Maki’s uncle—”

“Cousin.”

“Your dad is Maki’s cousin, so she’s your aunt, no, your first-cousin once removed. The clan head is Naobito, who is your grandfather’s younger brother, which means your father was supposed to be clan head, and therefore you were next in line, but your father left the clan and Naobito became head, so his sons are next in line, but Naoya is the current heir because his older brothers suck or something? And he hates you because if you ever rejoined the clan you would have a claim to be the heir over him? Did I get that right?”

Megumi heaves a sigh, rubbing his temple. “Mostly. Not that it’ll ever matter but I wouldn’t be rejoining, just joining, because I was never a part of the clan. My biological father took my mother’s last name before I was born, so I never even had the name Zen’in. Naoya also hates me for other reasons, but I guess those don’t really matter at this point.”

Yuuji blinks, scratching his head. Megumi had given him a thorough rundown of what to expect, explaining the complex clan politics and lineages, his history with them, everything, but Yuuji is still utterly lost. His confusion must be obvious because Megumi ruffles his hair like he’s a child struggling to understand grown-up problems. It should be insulting, but somehow it makes Yuuji’s heart pump faster (probably because his heart starts to spontaneously combust anytime Megumi touches or does anything to him, because he’s a simp).

“Honestly, for the purposes of this party, the main things you need to know are that the Zen’in hate me for obvious reasons, they hate Maki for being a woman with the balls to go against them, they hate Tsumiki because she’s not related to them by blood and they have a weird, incestuous thing about blood, and they’re probably going to hate you because you are one, not a Zen’in, two, dating a man, and three, dating me. So basically it’s going to be a shit night and we’re going to have to drink as much of their booze as possible to make up for it.”

Nodding slowly, Yuuji brings a hand to his chin and taps a finger on his lips. “One thing I still don’t understand is why all this clan shit even matters. I mean, aren’t clans from, like, feudal times? Like with samurai and shit? I didn’t think people still had clans.”

Megumi nods in agreement. “People don’t really. It’s mostly a dead part of the culture. Families like mine cling onto it as a status symbol, mostly. They’ve got their claws in everything, politics, business, you name it, all under the brand of the ‘mighty Zen’in Clan.’” He uses air quotes around the words to emphasize his sarcasm. “Gojo’s from a clan too, but he actually is the clan head so he’s trying to make it less weird over there I guess.”

A rare thought strikes Yuuji. “Speaking of Gojo, how does he fit into all this? You always say he isn’t your dad, but it doesn’t seem like your bio dad was in your life much, based on what you told me, and I don’t get why your relatives didn’t take you in. Even if they suck, shouldn’t they have gotten custody initially?”

He fears he’s struck a nerve because Megumi goes deathly still, but then the dark-haired man relaxes slightly and shuts his eyes, the tell-tale sign that he’s thinking over what he’s about to say and how he wants to say it. Despite the seriousness of their conversation, Yuuji can’t help but smile at how stinking cute his boyfriend is at all times, no exceptions. He is awoken from his reverie when Megumi speaks, eyes still shut lightly.

“I was five or six when my father really went off the deep end. He’d been pretty much off the rails for a while by then, I don’t know with what other than that it was something criminal, but it got really bad at that point. Some of the shit he was caught up in involved Gojo somehow, probably through the clans. I’m not really clear on the specifics, but I guess the jist is that before Toji went to prison or died or whatever the fuck happened to him, he told Gojo about me. Gojo was familiar with the Zen’in, and he told me Tsumiki wouldn’t be happy living with them, so I ended up choosing for us to live with him instead.”

The dark-haired man snorts, rubbing his nose. They’d retired to the couch for the latter half of the morning with plans to get lunch with the resident lesbians in the afternoon. For now, Yuuji had put on some random western Christmas film and made them hot cocoa before they laid down together, limbs entangled. “Maybe chose is the wrong word. We didn’t really have any other viable options, and Gojo offered a warm place to sleep and access to food that wasn’t half molded or stolen.”

That gives Yuuji pause. Obviously he knew Megumi had some baggage (not to downplay his own role in it but Megumi’s baggage or trauma or whatever was kinda the reason for most of the issues between them thus far), but he wasn’t really aware of how bad it was. It makes him feel like his own issues pale in comparison. Plenty of people have dead parents, but Yuuji was lucky enough to have a (begrudgingly) loving grandfather, then Nanami and Choso. His childhood wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad, either. His heart hurts thinking of little baby Megumi scrounging for scraps because his father couldn’t be bothered to pick up groceries for the week, and having to make such a crucial decision for his and Tsumiki’s future when he was only in first grade.

“I didn’t realize it was so hard for you before Gojo came along.”

Megumi shrugs, hands wrapped around his mostly empty mug of cocoa. He stares at the last dregs of milk and clumps of undissolved powder, and Yuuji wishes so badly to know what’s going through his head at any given time, but especially now. This is the most Megumi has ever talked about his family with Yuuji. Even before he met Tsumiki the most he’d gotten was a brief “she basically raised me and I’d probably kill myself if she ever left me” which scared Yuuji so much Megumi had to rub his back and soothe him with promises not to kill himself for like fifteen minutes. All that to say, Yuuji is absorbing this gift of information like a sponge, and he’s afraid he’s gonna get too greedy and scare Megumi back into emotional isolation if he isn’t careful.

“Yeah, it was hard, but I barely remember it at this point, it was so long ago. Tsumiki and I made do, and then Gojo was there and we didn’t have to make do anymore. I guess I’ve probably got unresolved abandonment issues, but that’s life, right?” He’s deflecting, obviously, which makes Yuuji a little sad, but then Megumi chuckles as if remembering something and the thought slips away. “He spoiled Tsumiki rotten, I swear. She never had an attitude before Gojo started buying her whatever she wanted. That man has way too much money and way too little impulse control.”

Yuuji raises an eyebrow, scanning over Megumi’s Prada sweater and designer jeans. “Oh, but his money had no effect on you.”

Catching his gaze, Megumi grins. “Fair enough. I guess I absorbed some things from him, no matter how much I deny it. He was always buying us designer shit, saying we deserved the best, for whatever stupid reason he could come up with that week.” He presses into Yuuji, tangling their feet together as a small smile graces his features. “Gojo was barely eighteen when he took me and Tsumiki in. I’m hard on him, but honestly he was more of a father to me than Toji ever was, that’s for damn sure.”

“So he’s not not your dad.”

“Yeah. I guess he’s not not my dad.”

Yuuji can’t help but chuckle. “We’re slowly ticking off those ‘not’s, huh? Me, your not boyfriend turned boyfriend, Gojo, your not dad turned not not dad. I feel like I’m really making a difference here!”

The quip earns him a smack to the back of the head, but he laughs anyway while Megumi grumbles. “You ass. Do not tell Gojo any of this. If you two ever actually meet, god forbid, I will not hesitate to break up with you if you tell him any part of what I said just now. He will never let me live it down.”

Still giggling, Yuuji lays back and pulls Megumi onto his chest. He can tell by the weight in the dark-haired man’s shoulders that this conversation is edging on too much for him, and decides that he’s gotten enough emotional vulnerability out of his boyfriend for today. Especially considering the shitshow that will be tomorrow night.

He pushes his giggles into Megumi’s messy hair and sighs happily as Megumi sets down his empty cocoa mug and wraps his arms around Yuuji’s torso like a koala. “So you're like a double nepo baby, huh? Guess I hitched myself to the right wagon.”

“Shut up, idiot.”

—

Yuuji shifts nervously. He finds himself tugging at the tie that had been forced around his neck by Kugisaki, loosening it a little so he can actually breathe.

Their little queer quartet stands in front of what, to Yuuji at least, looks like a film set or something transported straight from the Heian era. Traditional temple-style Japanese architecture stretches far past what he can see and individuals in haoris and kimonos dot the landscape. Some appear to be servants of some kind, cleaning or guiding guests, while others must be part of the Zen’in clan. Not everyone is in traditional garb. There are plenty of people dressed like him, in more western-style black tie attire, so he doesn’t feel too out of place.

Megumi and Maki had both stubbornly refused to put on traditional attire as their invites suggested (a slight difference between theirs and his that he couldn’t really make sense of), so they also donned black tie clothing, Megumi in a teal tie and sleek black suit (different from the one he wore to the last frat formal, but probably equally as expensive and definitely just as attractive) and Maki in a long, wine-red gown with a deep slit on her right leg and her hair tied up. Kugisaki is also in a gown, hers a pretty lilac, and she’s got golden clips tucking her hair to one side of her head. They make an attractive pair, in Yuuji’s nonprofessional opinion.

He looks down at his own suit. After the frat formal, Megumi had forced him to go shopping for better formal attire (“You cannot keep borrowing suits from your frat brothers, Yuuji, you’re an adult”) and they’d picked out a few suits amongst various other nice pieces. Megumi had all but smacked Yuuji’s card out of his hands when he went to pay (only cringing a little bit at the hefty price displayed on the cash register screen). He hadn’t let his boyfriend con him into getting anything even near the same cost as Megumi’s own clothes, opting for a nice but totally reasonable brand that was able to tailor the suits to him free of charge when they saw Megumi’s black card. The one he’s wearing now is black and beneath it is a dark red button down. He’s never really worn anything this nice and he feels slightly anxious about spilling something on it.

As they approach the front entrance Megumi grabs his hand. The touch is grounding, his cool palm counteracting Yuuji’s own tendency to overheat. They’re greeted by a small woman who checks their tickets. She frowns a little at Kugisaki’s invite but, wisely, doesn’t say anything when she waves them in. Alongside a horde of other guests, they’re directed through a few halls until they reach a large, open room. Maybe a ballroom? Its interior design doesn’t really match the traditionalist style of the building’s exterior, to Yuuji’s surprise.

The walls are lined with tables covered in piles and piles of food, charcuterie, sushi, salads, you name it. Dozens of staffers in bowties and white shirts stand at the ready to help serve guests, and there’s a large congregation by the bar where there’s a separate table that has staff handing out flutes of champagne. Others wander around the crowds with trays of finger foods or additional champagne flutes, towels over their forearms and blank expressions on their faces. One makes a beeline for them and bows slightly, holding out his tray for each of them to grab a drink. He’s not in the same attire as the rest of the wait staff, instead he wears a kimono that implies he’s permanent staff of the house. He seems to recognize Megumi and maybe Maki too, but he only addresses Megumi, not even glancing at Yuuji or Kugisaki.

“Welcome in, Zen’in-sama. We are happy you were able to make it. Master Naobito requests your presence in the lounge room.” He points to a cordoned off room toward the back of the hall. “He wishes to greet you,” he gives the rest of them a look of disdain, “and give your companions a personal welcome before the festivities commence.” The waiter’s tongue curls around the word ‘companions’ like an insult and Yuuji feels his stomach sink.

He feels woefully unprepared for this situation. Even with the information Megumi spent all yesterday morning drilling into his head, this entire situation is throwing him for a loop. He’d thought it would be pretty easy. Show up, look pretty while Megumi and Maki do whatever they need to do, get a little drunk, eat some food, and leave. He’s starting to get the sick feeling it won’t be so simple.

The parties he’s used to attending are completely alien to this environment. He’s used to sticky floors and beer pong tables, bottom shelf liquor and grocery store seltzers. These people would probably faint if they stepped foot in his frat house on a Friday night, and he feels the same way stepping into their world of crystal champagne flutes and fancy dresses, of endless gourmet buffets and an army of wait staff at their beck and call. There are plenty of rich guys in the frat who’ve invited him on their yachts or to their family mansions for a long weekend, but none of them come even close to this level of old-money sophistication and severity.

Megumi, for his part, is a natural. He deftly responds to the waiter’s rudeness, waving him off with a promise to greet Naobito on his own time, and hands Yuuji a glass of champagne without a second glance. Their hands remain locked together despite Yuuji’s increasingly sweaty palms and the waiter’s slightly snarling lip. The only thing that earns a slight break in the cold, emotionless mask Megumi plastered on as soon as they stepped foot in the building is being addressed as Zen’in-sama. The rest of it doesn’t come anywhere close to throwing him off.

Yuuji prides himself in being able to read Megumi pretty well, but right now trying to determine what he’s thinking is like trying to read a book in a language you’ve never heard of. It’s unnerving, and it makes him want to leave as soon as possible.

But he’ll be good, he won’t complain. Megumi had seemed extremely nervous in the uber they took to get here, clinging to Yuuji’s side and glaring daggers at Maki while cursing her for convincing him to attend. Yuuji is pretty sure those emotions are still roiling beneath the surface, looking for an excuse to burst free, and he’s going to take his duties as arm-candy seriously and do anything he can to help Megumi keep his composure if that’s what will make this bearable for him.

The waiter nods and disappears back into the crowd. The room is filling rapidly and the air is starting to warm, which does nothing to help Yuuji’s flush. The champagne wont help, either, but he downs his glass in one go and sets the empty flute on the tray of a passing staffer. Kugisaki and Maki do the same, but Megumi only sips at his, eyes narrowed while he scans the room. He tugs Yuuji’s hand and waves to get Maki’s attention.

“Come on, let’s get this over with.”

They make their way through the increasingly dense throng of people, the clash between traditional and nontraditional attire somewhat hurting Yuuji’s eyes, until they eventually find themselves in front of the curtained entrance the waiter had pointed to earlier.

A large man stands in front of the door, arms crossed and legs spread in a strong stance. He must be some sort of bouncer. The ‘bouncer’s that man the door at Yuuji’s frat parties are just other brothers who are slightly more jacked than the rest of them, but this guy looks like a real professional.

“Name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

The man scans a list on a clipboard he pulls out of nowhere. “I don’t see that name here.”

Megumi groans. “It might be under Zen’in Megumi.” The next part he whispers under his breath, loud enough for only Yuuji to catch. “That fucking prick.”

The bouncer scans the list again and nods. He quickly counts their group and writes something on the clipboard before waving them through. “Master Naobito will see you now.”

Kugisaki snorts as they pass through the curtain. “What a tool, making everyone call him master.” Maki and Yuuji both laugh, but Megumi doesn’t react other than to tighten his grip on Yuuji’s hand.

After a walk down a short hall they enter a small lounge. The furnishings are much more the kind that Yuuji expected upon seeing the outside of the estate. Tatami mats and pillows line the floor, and a few screens divide up parts of the room. There are only a handful of people here, four men and five or six women. Two of the men are seated at a low table in the center of the room. One of them is old. He’s got stringy gray hair down to his shoulders and a long pointed mustache that he fiddles with while sipping from his cup of tea. Next to him is a younger man with bleach blonde hair and a sharp smirk. They’re both wearing traditional clothing and the younger has an arm wrapped around the waist of a petite woman with long dark hair who keeps her face turned toward the ground as they approach.

Megumi stiffens when he takes in the room but he quickly shakes out his shoulders and squeezes Yuuji’s hand once more. To Yuuji’s right, Maki’s posture seems to straighten and her features harden. She adjusts her glasses and doesn’t hesitate to slip her own arm around Kugisaki.

The older man speaks first, smirking into his tea. He does not stand to greet them, none of them do. “Nephew! Please, join us.” His cold, calculating eyes slowly slide over the rest of their group, stopping on Maki longer than either him or Kugisaki. They take their seats around the table, kneeling or sitting criss cross on lush white pillows. “I’m so glad you both were able to make it tonight. I was a little afraid we hadn’t given you enough notice when I realized your invitations weren’t sent along with the rest. I had to reprimand our communications director for the oversight.”

It’s bullshit, even Yuuji can tell that much, but Megumi doesn’t bite.

“Maki and I appreciate that, Naobito. It took a bit of maneuvering but I’m glad both our schedules could be amended to fit in this celebration.” A lie, since they had literally no plans tonight aside from this, but Yuuji is aware enough to realize what Megumi is doing. “I would hate to have missed such an important occasion. Naoya, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The younger man, Naoya, tightens his grip on his teacup, seemingly perturbed at being spoken to before he had the chance to set the tone. Yuuji is really glad he’s so good at reading people, otherwise all these subtle parts of clan interactions would go way over his head. “Some years now, yes. Rin and I are glad you could be in attendance.” The man pauses, considering how to proceed. His eyes flit over Yuuji for a moment before settling on Maki. “Maki, it’s been a while since you’ve graced our halls for anything, much less a celebration. What spurred the change?”

Maki sneers. She seems to have little interest in putting on the same veneer as Megumi to cover her hostility. “I wanted to see who you could possibly con into marrying you.”

Naoya looks infuriated, which makes Maki grin, but before either is able to exchange another word Naobito tuts at them both. “Now, now. Let’s hold back the animosity for a little while yet. This is a party, after all. It wouldn’t do to have fighting amongst the family.”

“I’m surprised you're even sober enough to speak to us, old man.”

Megumi’s grip tightens and Yuuji squeezes back, hoping the gesture is comforting.

Naobito only smirks at Maki. “You always were such a firecracker. Won’t you give your blessings to the happy couple? Surely we can let bygones be bygones for one night.”

The dark-haired woman kisses her teeth and Megumi responds before she can levy some harsh insult at the clan head.

“We both congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials, Naoya. I must say I was surprised to hear the announcement considering your proclivity for the bachelor life, but I hope you and Rin-san will have a long marriage.” He stops short of saying happy marriage. The woman, Naoya’s fiance, shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She’s yet to meet any of their gazes and seems to shrink under the weight of Naoya’s arm. Yuuji finds himself admiring the way Megumi is able to carefully craft his words in such a way that the underhanded insults aren’t noticeable enough to draw admonishment (a word he’s sure he must’ve learned from Megumi), but he is starting to feel bad for this woman. If Naoya really is as bad as Megumi and Maki say, she is in for a world of hurt after the wedding. Megumi lifts their joined hands and places them visibly on the table. “I’m happy to introduce you to my own partner, Itadori Yuuji. He attends university with Maki and I.” Another jab, considering what Maki said about Naoya’s rejection from their school.

Slightly calmer, Maki speaks up as well. “And this is Kugisaki Nobara, my girlfriend. She also goes to school with us.”

Naoya sneers and Naobito’s sly grin falters ever so slightly. “How…quaint. I wasn’t aware either of you were seeing anyone,” Naoya hisses out. Yuuji’s honestly impressed he didn’t outright call them a slur.

Megumi grins, clearly pleased at having thrown his cousin off. “Nor was I aware of your relationship prior to yesterday morning. It seems we do a poor job of communicating, what a shame.” His tone is so obviously sarcastic and it’s so hot.

Is Yuuji discovering a new kink right now? Does he like it when his boyfriend acts all rich and talks down to people?

No, not the time. He can unravel that particular thread later.

Naoya turns his snake-like gaze onto Yuuji. “So who are you, then?”

“I just told you his name.”

The blonde waves Megumi off, eyes locked on Yuuji like a vulture circling a carcass. “I know his name, obviously. I want to know what kinda guy you go after, Megumi-chan.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Yuuji nudges Megumi’s shoulder. “It’s fine. They’re your family, I’m happy to introduce myself.” He reaches a hand across the table. The man sneers, but shakes it. “Like Megs said, I go to the University of Tokyo with him. I study film and I plan to work in film production. I’m also in a fraternity, which is actually how we met.”

With each word Naoya’s eyebrows rise higher, like he’s shocked a guy like Yuuji would be with a guy like Megumi. It makes Yuuji laugh, because Megumi is for sure the catch between the two of them. Intelligent, attractive, hilarious, the list goes on.

“Hm. You seem so normal, Itadori. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fa—” Naobito smacks his shoulder and the slur dies on Naoya’s tongue. “Sorry, I had something in my throat. I wouldn’t have pegged Megumi as the fraternity type.” He whispers something under his breath. Yuuji thinks he hears “figures he couldn’t pass up living with a bunch of men.”

He frowns, free hand balled into a fist. God, he wants to punch this snot in the fucking nose, but he needs to control himself. “Actually, Megumi isn’t in the frat. We met at a party my frat hosted.”

Naoya ignores the correction, turning back to Megumi. “Say, whatever happened to that other guy you were dating? Sukuna, was it? I liked that guy.” He smirks, eyeing Yuuji. “You sure bounce back quickly, how long was it before you got with Itadori?”

Megumi flinches but returns Naoya’s glare with equivalent ferocity, sitting up tall despite Naoya all but calling him a slut. “We broke up months ago.”

“Ah, what a shame.” Naoya looks at Yuuji again, hand on his chin. “You know, I think you must have a type, Megumi-chan. He sort of looks like Sukuna. It’s the face shape, I think.”

“Shut up,” Megumi growls out.

Apparently pleased that he’d managed to rile Megumi up, Naoya sets his sights on Maki and Kugisaki. “You have good taste, cousin. This one is quite attractive. A little big, for my tastes, but still pretty.”

The flash of her eyes is all that shows the comment might have affected Maki. She and Kugisaki both keep their cool, Kugisaki going so far as to begin admiring her own nails when she responds to the demeaning comment. Well, she doesn’t really respond. She speaks directly to Rin, who had otherwise been silent. “Rin-san, how did a woman like you end up with a boy like him? You’ve got lovely features. I bet you could model, if you tried.”

Rin looks up at the guests for the first time, blushing furiously and stammering over her answer. “Oh! Uh, well Naoya-sama and I were introduced by our parents. Master Naobito orchestrated it, actually.”

Kugisaki hums, smirking. “Ah, I see. A mutually-beneficial arrangement, then. I guess that makes sense, I don’t see how a catch like you would settle otherwise.”

Naoya is practically steaming with anger at Kugisaki’s audacity. Maki is stifling a laugh, and even Megumi is loosening up slightly. Yuuji finds himself relaxing a bit, lips curling into a small smile. He totally gets why Maki wanted to do this, and now is his chance to help drive home the point.

He plasters on a dopey smile and drops his head onto Megumi’s shoulder. “I could never imagine having an arranged marriage! I admire the courage you both must have to face such a challenge together.” His words earn a quiet snort from Megumi, which makes his heart sing.

“I guess you are getting up there in age, cousin, so an arrangement is only practical. Rin, how old are you?” Maki sing-songs, sounding incredibly amused.

“Uh, I’m twenty two.”

Yuuji gasps. “So young! I commend your commitment.” She’s three years older than Yuuji, but the dig at Naoya definitely lands. He’s red in the face, indignant at seeing his fiance receive praise for the simple act of getting engaged.

“You better treat her well, Naoya-san. Pretty young girls like her need a lot of attention,” Kugisaki continues. “I would hate to hear it if you two don’t work out, after such a lovely party like this and everything!”

At that, Naobito finally speaks up, voice no longer smooth and controlled like it was before. He finally deigns to look straight at Yuuji, then at Kugisaki, swiftly bypassing the current thread of conversation. “As lovely as it was to meet you both, there are a few matters I must discuss privately with my family. Would you two mind terribly rejoining the party outside? I won’t keep them long.”

Kugisaki makes a noise of surprise at the dismissive words and Yuuji frowns internally, keeping a smile on externally. They’ve literally only been in here for like five minutes, yet Naobito is already kicking them out. He supposes he should feel some sense of vindication that their words struck a nerve, and he lets that thought power his megawatt smile. Yuuji glances at Megumi. The dark-haired man is glaring at Naoya still, but he sneaks a look at Yuuji and nods almost imperceptibly.

Calmed by the knowledge that it’s okay with Megumi, Yuuji stands, Kugisaki following suit soon after. “Of course, wouldn’t want to intrude on a family discussion! It was nice to meet you all. Please accept my heartfelt congratulations on the happy news.”

The Zen’in men nod and without further ado Yuuji exits, Kugisaki in tow. When they finally make their way back into the ballroom, Kugisaki lets out a long-suffering groan.

“How rude! They didn’t even ask us anything, and I was so prepared to dazzle them with my winning smile and charming personality. I swear if Maki had let me I would’ve thrown a punch for sure.”

Yuuji snorts. He really does like Kugisaki. He hopes they keep getting closer as friends.

He’s about to suggest they hit the buffet while they wait when there’s a firm grip on his elbow and he’s being yanked away. Surprise flashes across Kugisaki’s shrinking face, but she makes no move to follow and soon enough the surprise melts into what might be amusement. After a few seconds she’s swallowed by the crowd and Yuuji finally gets a look at his kidnapper.

—

five

The guy is tall. Taller than Yuuji, even, which is honestly saying something. He’s got on a nice, navy blue suit and has a shock of pure white hair atop his head. He’s also wearing dark, round sunglasses and he is not looking at Yuuji as he drags him across the floor and down a random hallway. His suit looks expensive, similar to the kind Megumi buys, and he walks with a level of nonchalant confidence while forcibly dragging a large man that Yuuji could never hope to emulate.

Maybe he should be more concerned, but there’s something familiar about this guy that he can’t quite place. Plus, he doubts anyone would try to do anything to him with this many people around. Although they are leaving the crowd behind…

He doesn’t get a chance to pursue the thought further as he’s shoved into a room. It’s another traditional room but it’s more barren, only a few pieces of furniture that are collecting dust. Yuuji stumbles from the force of the shove, catching himself on a table by the wall to avoid face planting into the tatami mat. He spins around to face this random man, nose curled in annoyance.

“What the hell! What was that for?”

The man smiles, but there’s a sharp edge to it. He doesn’t rush to answer, striding into the room and shutting the door behind him, careful not to slam it. He leans back against the wood, ankles and arms crossed. “Sorry for the rough treatment, I need to talk to you.”

Frowning, Yuuji wipes imaginary dust off his jacket and quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t even know you.”

“I’m a friend of the family. You’re dating Fushiguro Megumi, right?” The guy’s smile shifts slightly as he tilts his head in question.

Huh? Why does this rando know that? Yuuji’s not one hundred percent clear on clan politics, but he figures it’s better to err on the side of caution when interacting with anyone who earned an invite to this event. Better play it safe. Maybe he’s like Naoya and has something against Megumi.

“What’s it to you?” He spits out with a little more venom than intended.

The man snorts, running a hand through his messy hair. He pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head, pushing his hair back and revealing creepily piercing blue eyes. Those eyes scan over Yuuji from head to toe, and the man makes no effort to hide his assessment. His posture is relaxed, arms lax by his side, but there’s a lingering tension in his face that is only evident in that hardened smile. “Hmm. I like you, you’ve got spunk! Gumi-chan needs someone with spunk.”

‘Gumi-chan’? Why is this guy acting so familiar?

Yuuji shifts his weight between his feet anxiously, only now realizing that he’s let himself get cornered in a room with a random man who seems hell-bent on getting him alone for one reason or another and now stands between him and any hope of an exit. It’s only minorly comforting to hope that this guy and Megumi are close. He tries to calm his nerves. It’s not out of the realm of possibility for Megumi to not have mentioned someone who knows him well enough to know he has a boyfriend when he keeps his cards so close to his chest. As is well-established, the man hates talking about his family and would pretty much never volunteer information unprompted, so maybe this guy really does know Megumi well. He should still be careful, regardless. Megumi emphasized not to trust or try to befriend any Zen’ins, and while this guy didn’t identify himself as a member of the clan he didn’t exactly deny it either. “I didn’t even confirm if we’re together or not.”

“Well, aren’t you?” The man laughs, tilting his head in consideration. He’s still staring at Yuuji like he can see right through him. It’s unnerving. “No point in denying it, the question is really only a formality. I know practically everything about you, Yuuji-kun.”

Suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and very small, Yuuji shrugs a shoulder, one hand gripping the inside of the opposite elbow. He doesn’t get the vibe that this guy is lying about there being no point to Yuuji denying it, or, impossibly, about knowing everything about Yuuji. Something about him screams ‘I make it my business to know everything about everyone before they know it themselves.’ He shudders, folding in on himself further.

“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

Even though he claimed to already know that fact, the guy’s face contorts in a weird mixture of what might be happiness and…revulsion? Yuuji isn’t quite able to make out the emotions, but it seems the man is having trouble understanding them himself based on the clench of his jaw.

“Great! That’s…great. Wonderful, even.” The words are hollow and the guy is staring at him even more intensely now. He pushes off the door and takes a few steps closer. Yuuji is smacked in the face by the familiar scent of a cologne that smells just like the one Megumi tends to go for and it throws him for a loop. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Yuuji-kun? I’ve gotta see if you’re the right fit for my little Megumi-chan.”

Yuuji holds back a groan. Why is everyone always asking that question?

“Why do you care? Do you have a crush on him or something?” Maybe this guy is a stalker or jealous ex or something. Yuuji’s pretty sure Megumi would have told him if there was the chance of an ex showing up (if there even are any exes besides Sukuna that he isn’t aware of already), if only to avoid an awkward conversation.

He thinks it’s a valid question, because the guy doesn’t seem all that much older than him and he’s taking an undue interest in Megumi’s romantic life, but for a second the man’s reaction makes him feel like he was ridiculous to imply that his interest in Megumi was any sort of romantic. He sneers, nose curling and lip peeling up in undeniable disgust, like he’s just been accused of some heinous crime.

“The fuck? Absolutely not. Why would you even say that?”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable thing to assume! I don’t even know who you are yet you practically kidnap me so you can interrogate me and you’re using such familiar language so obviously you either know Megumi or you’re some creep who thinks you have a shot with him.”

The man looks positively flabbergasted. A myriad of emotions flash across his face, surprise, sadness, then ending back on disgust. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he shakes his head and refocuses on Yuuji. “He hasn’t even mentioned me? Whatever, that’s beside the point. No, I obviously don’t have a crush on him, like seriously are you twelve? I just want to know more about the guy who swayed Megumi’s icy heart so easily.”

Feeling like he maybe has the upper hand now, Yuuji’s next words are more confident. He straightens his shoulder, leaning toward the man instead of cowering away. “How do you know I swayed him? What if I was the one that was hard to get?”

Einstein (the name Yuuji has just decided to give this creep so he can stop calling him ‘random man’ in his head) gives him a look as if to say ‘seriously?’, which is only a little insulting. A tense silence crackles between them for half a minute before Einstein sighs, dragging a hand down his face and stretching his skin before letting it bounce back into place with a heavy exhale. The gesture is familiar, for some reason that Yuuji can’t quite place.

“Let’s start again. I heard through the grapevine that Megumi has a new boyfriend, which is you,” he pauses for Yuuji to nod in confirmation. “As someone who has known Megumi for a long time, I thought it appropriate to ask you a few questions, in his best interest. Is that alright?”

Slowly, Yuuji nods. He doesn’t really see the harm in letting this guy ask him some things. Plus, he doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to or thinks Megumi wouldn’t want him to. Maybe it’ll make for a funny story to retell later in the night.

God, he really wishes Megumi was here right now.

Einstein claps his hands together once, the noise startling Yuuji. “Good! Let’s get started, then. How did you two meet?” He leans in even closer than Yuuji had, forcing Yuuji to back up slightly.

“Uh, at a party.”

“Mhm, mhm. And why were you at this ‘party’?” He makes air quotes on the word ‘party’, which is kind of confusing. He also sounds incredibly bored even though he’s the one who wanted to have a conversation in the first place.

“Um, because it was at my house? I’m in a fraternity.”

Einstein’s gaze sharpens. “I see. Which fraternity might that be?”

Yuuji tells him, and Einstein’s face is suddenly impossibly cold. He takes an intimidating step closer, using the few inches he has on Yuuji to their fullest to make Yuuji feel small and weak. It takes everything in Yuuji not to back down as he lifts his chin defiantly. He’s not gonna let this guy get the best of him. “Right. Do you have a criminal record, Yuuji-kun?”

His voice is like ice as it hisses out Yuuji’s given name. Somehow, Yuuji has made a misstep. But I’ve literally only answered three questions? How did I fuck up already?

“No. I mean, I’ve had my driver’s license suspended but it wasn’t for anything serious, I was just being stupid. Nothing other than that.”

Einstein clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “If you’re lying I’ll be able to find out. Are you sure that’s all there is? It’s better to be honest with me up front.”

Okay, this is getting really creepy. For some reason, Yuuji has no doubt that this man could follow through on his implied threat, and even though he truly has nothing to hide, he feels anxious anyway. It’s getting harder and harder to keep up his veneer of confidence. “I’m not lying.”

“Sure you aren’t! What about things not on your record? Ever committed a crime without being caught? Domestic disputes, maybe?”

Yuuji starts with surprise. Domestic disputes? What is he getting at? “No! Of course not! Why would you even ask me that?”

Einstein doesn’t bother answering him, moving right along to his next question as if this is a totally normal conversation. “Right, and why did you pursue Megumi romantically?” His tone is lighter now, disgustingly sweet, like Yuuji just choked down an entire bag of sour candy and the overwhelming mixture of flavors and the burn of citric acid linger on his tongue. The whiplash is making his head hurt.

“It’s hard to explain, but I guess I found him interesting? Our first meeting was kind of weird and he was a bit standoffish, but something about him drew me in, if that makes sense. And then after the first few times we talked I could tell his hard exterior was protecting something much softer, and it was like my life mission became finding out what that something was.” There, that was vague enough to protect Megumi’s privacy but not so vague as to sound like bullshit.

Einstein nods, eyes narrowed. “Okay. Do you have a job? How do you pay for school?”

The question is definitely odd, but at least it’s about Yuuji and not Megumi. Yuuji doesn’t really mind sharing his own information, especially since it’s all probably leaked on the internet anyway. “Not at the moment, but I’ve applied to a few. I saved up a lot in high school and got some inheritance from my grandfather. It’s not much, but it makes up the difference with my financial aid so I can afford tuition.”

The man leans impossibly closer, invading Yuuji’s space. He sounds slightly manic now. “When did you officially ask him out? And how did you do it? And how did Megumi respond?”

Yuuji freezes. Now this line of questioning is getting way too personal. “I’m sorry, but do you really need to know this? I appreciate that you’re protective of him for whatever reason, but I still don’t know your relationship with Megs and I wouldn’t want to overstep by sharing his personal business with someone he wouldn’t want me to.”

The man frowns. It looks like he’s going to say something but then his phone buzzes. His eyes widen when he checks it. It’s the first time his gaze has left Yuuji the entire conversation. Einstein sighs, digging a thumb into his temple. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’ve gotta skedaddle, but I’ll find you again later. I still have questions for you that I intend to have answered sooner rather than later.”

He turns, pulling his glasses back over his eyes. Before he exits the room, he glances over his shoulder, looking down his nose at Yuuji. “Do me a favor and don’t mention this to Gumi, kay? I’ll talk to him about it later, and you’re right in that I don’t think he would appreciate you talking about him behind his back to a stranger who’s name you don’t even know.”

“What the—hey! You’re the one who kidnapped me and demanded I answer your questions!”

Einstein chuckles, winking at Yuuji like they’re old friends playing a practical joke on each other and not complete strangers who just had the weirdest conversation Yuuji has ever had the displeasure of being a part of. “That’s ridiculous, I would never do such a thing! That sort of improper behavior is beneath me. Anyway, do you really wanna risk finding out if I’m right? Better to keep these things to ourselves, hmm?” He looks back at the door and goes to leave with a wave, shouting out a few last words as he does so. “Lovely to meet you, Yuuji-kun! Let’s chat again soon.”

And then he’s gone, down the hallway and seamlessly blended into the crowd. It’s like he was never there. The only evidence of their conversation is Yuuji’s own rapidly beating heart, heightened sense of anxiety, and perspiring palms.

Who the fuck was that?

After a few minutes of contemplating what in his life led him here, Yuuji makes his way back to the party. The music is louder now, presumably since all the guests have arrived and gotten a few drinks in. He scans the crowd for any familiar faces but comes up empty.

Maybe Megumi is still with Naobito and Naoya? It’s been a while, and Naobito promised their conversation wouldn’t take long, but he doesn’t exactly seem like the type you take at their word so it’s entirely possible he’s still got Megumi and Maki hidden away in that lounge. Anyway, Kugisaki should be floating around somewhere if Maki is still back there too, so he’ll find her first and then they can go rescue their partners together.

In the meantime he meanders over to one of the buffet tables, grabbing one of the too-small plates events like this always use and beginning to load it up with different bites. He finds himself enjoying picking through the options, adding a wide array of tastes and textures to his plate. In about five minutes he piles his plate high with a healthy mix of savory and sweet, even throwing in a few vegetables because it would make Megumi happy. At the last second he grabs an entire stack of pickled ginger from the sushi area and puts it on its own little plate.

As he collects bits of food, he thinks back over his conversation with Einstein. There was something recognizable about the guy that Yuuji just couldn’t put a finger on. The way he moved, even the way he talked. It was so achingly familiar but he could swear he’s never met that man before in his life.

He doesn’t think much of it, too lost in his own thoughts, but the crowd around him is suddenly a lot quieter. He hears whispering instead of normal volume conversation, so he figures they must be about to announce Naoya and his fiance to the room or something. They do that at shindigs like this, right? Some big ceremony or choreographed dance number or something. As much as he hates the guy on principle, Yuuji does enjoy seeing people happy and in love, so a part of him wants to hear the announcement and see Naoya and his fiance’s entrance just like everyone else.

Pleased with his haul and eager to see what’s going on, he turns back to begin searching for his friends again when he nearly collides with someone. He scrambles to balance the two plates he’s holding in one hand, letting out a sigh of relief when nothing falls on the floor or on his new suit.

“Oh! Sorry, my bad. Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

The guy chuckles and puts a rough hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, gripping tightly. “No worries. Hey, you’re that Yuuji kid, right?”

Yuuji frowns. How does everyone here seem to know my name?

“Yeah how did you…” He trails off as he turns to get a good look at the man he’d bumped into and is shocked to see what could be a carbon copy of Megumi standing in front of him, except he’s at least twice Megumi’s age and he’s got an unfamiliar scar on the side of his mouth. Plus, he’s absolutely jacked. Like, beyond ripped. It almost makes Yuuji feel a little insecure even though he knows his own physique is nothing to sneeze at. The man’s not in any sort of formal attire, instead wearing a casual gray sweater and a pair of jeans, and he’s got an intense, almost animalistic glint to his eyes while he looks Yuuji up and down.

This guy can’t be…

“Toji?”

Megumi’s hollow-sounding voice rings out over the crowd. The majority of people in their immediate vicinity have abandoned the pretense of conversation and are openly staring and whispering amongst one another. That’s right, Toji left the Zen’in clan in disgrace. Of course this is causing a scene. Yuuji starts to sweat under all the attention and he searches for Megumi without moving a muscle.

The dark-haired man pushes past the final layer of guests and emerges into the small semi-circle that’s formed around them, coming to a stop angled slightly in front of Yuuji. The position forced Toji’s hand off Yuuji’s shoulder. With only a quick glance it’s obvious his boyfriend is extremely angry.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Toji (holy shit it’s Megumi’s father oh shit oh shit oh shit) smirks lazily, taking a bite of a carrot stick off his own little plate of food. “What, can’t a guy check up on his kid? Plus, I got an invite, same as the rest of you.” He gestures around with the carrot, leaning forward. “I was just getting acquainted with your little boy toy here. He’s cute!”

Megumi does not seem charmed. “Back the fuck up.”

The older man raises an eyebrow, but does as Megumi demands and takes a step back. Yuuji feels like he can breathe a little easier without Toji’s overwhelming presence so close. He brushes his pinky against Megumi’s hand and sighs in relief when Megumi laces their fingers together. “What’s with the hostility, kid? Is this how you great dear old dad after, how longs it been—”

“Thirteen years,” Megumi finishes for him, vitriol evident in his tone.

Toji winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, right. Jeez, has it really been that long? Coulda sworn it was under a decade.”

That doesn’t do anything to ease the tension. Megumi practically growls as he tugs Yuuji closer. “Shut up. Why are you here?”

“I already told you, I’m here to check on ya. Heard about this stupid little soiree and figured you’d be here.” He sighs, searching his plate for his next bite of food. He picks up a piece of nigiri and swallows it whole.

The action seems to set Megumi off. “Why would you figure anything? You don’t even know me.”

Toji snorts. “I know you, kid. Now, don’t play coy! Introduce me to your boyfriend. I gotta make sure he’s good for you. Has the Gojo idiot given him the shovel talk yet?”

“Like you have any idea what’s good for me,” Megumi scoffs. He’s almost entirely in front of Yuuji now, having edged himself closer over the course of this verbal volley. “Now, I’m going to ask one more time. Why are you here?”

“Oh, I see. Gojo doesn’t know about him yet, does he? Well, that makes me feel a little special, I must admit, that I know something about your life before that braindead freak does.” Megumi tenses all over and Toji notices, grinning at having successfully struck a nerve. Yuuji wants to cut in, to say something to relax the situation and calm everybody down, but he’s woefully inept at dealing with Megumi’s family issues. All he can really do is offer his support, so he squeezes Megumi’s hand.

Sighing, Toji glances forlornly at his plate of food before shoving it toward an unsuspecting waiter. Hands now free, he runs them through his hair. Despite how much he physically resembles Megumi, the motion appears foreign. He doesn’t do it in the same way Megumi does. Where Megumi might carefully tug on lingering knots, Toji rips right through, careless and violent. His scarred hands are not gentle in the slightest, even when using them to fix his own hair. In fact, as Yuuji watches the father and son, they start to seem entirely more different than they are similar, despite the physical resemblance.

“You really wanna know why I’m here? I think it’s only gonna make you upset, and I’d rather not deal with a crying kid right now.”

“Don’t think anything about me, just answer the damn question. And I’m not a kid anymore, you ass.”

“Sheesh! Quite the potty mouth on this one,” Toji whispers conspiratorially to the crowd behind him. It irks Yuuji, the way this guy is acting so casual. As if he didn’t permanently taint Megumi’s childhood and then abandon him with a stranger. The older man seems to thrive in the chaos he’s sowing. It’s like the whispering of the astonished guests feeds into his ego, which in turn feeds the tension between him and his son. “Alright, kid, if you say so. To be honest, I came for the free food and booze, and to see what idiot was dumb enough to get engaged to Naoya, the little prick.” He snatches a toothpick from the buffet table and uses it to pick something out of his teeth, the perfect picture of indifference. “Is that answer good enough? Have I fulfilled my deadbeat dad quota yet?”

Megumi is silent for a moment. Without being able to see his face, Yuuji has some difficulty reading his emotions, but he can tell enough from his body to understand that Megumi is deeply uncomfortable and on the edge of getting aggressive. His free hand twitches into a fist. Still, his voice is steady when he speaks.

“I thought you were dead.”

The room goes silent. There’s still the sound of conversations on the other side of the hall, and the music is still playing, but, for all intents and purposes, no one privy to the situation is making a sound.

Snickering, Toji gives Megumi an exasperated look. “Dead? Hell no! What bullshit has that Gojo fool been feeding you?” The older man chuckles, examining his nails. Yuuji is starting to get the feeling that this air of apathy is some kind of act. There’s something more brewing beneath Toji’s plastic facade.

Ignoring the jab, Megumi continues as if Toji hadn’t spoken at all. “Obviously you aren’t dead since you’re standing right here, which begs the question: where have you been?”

“Aw, did my little Megumi miss me?” Toji replies, voice high like he’s talking to a baby. He coos insultingly, then drops the baby voice with a scoff. “I was busy.”

“You were busy for thirteen years? I find that hard to believe.”

Toji clicks his tongue, bringing a hand to his chin. “Has it really been that long? Honestly, I would have bet good money that—”

He’s interrupted by a hand yanking him back by the shoulder. Surprise and fear flicker across the man’s face as the guy from earlier, Einstein, puts himself between Toji and Megumi. Both surprised for what will soon become clearly different reasons, Yuuji and Megumi greet the newcomer at the same time.

“Einstein!”

“Gojo?”

The white haired man grins sheepishly at Megumi, not sparing a glance at Yuuji, and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Hi Gumi-chan! How are you this evening?”

For the millionth time in the past forty-eight hours, Yuuji is confused. “Wait, that’s Gojo? Einstein, you’re Gojo?” Einstein, Gojo, gives Yuuji a weird look. Probably because of the nickname Yuuji had only used in his head until this moment, but Yuuji doesn’t really have it in him to care about sounding weird.

Megumi turns back to give him a strange look, movements slow. “Why are you calling him that?”

“Well, he didn’t give me his name when we met earlier so I came up with my own.”

The dark-haired man goes rigid, head ticking to the side slightly. “You met earlier?”

Slowly, Yuuji nods. He’s still trying to work out this whole situation. That’s Megumi’s not not dad, and that’s his biological dad who was never really his dad but is now calling himself Megumi’s dad, and I’m his not boyfriend turned boyfriend and I’ve now met both his not not dad and his not dad but actual biological father, but Megumi hasn’t called either of them ‘dad’ this entire time…

“Yeah, when Naobito kicked me and Kugisaki out, he pulled me aside to interrogate me about our relationship for some reason. I don't really know.” Yuuji shrugs, deciding he is entirely too under informed to make sense of what’s going on. Megumi’s eye twitches and he whips back around to face Gojo and Toji, face red.

“Gojo! You prick!”

“That’s really Gojo?” Yuuji asks again, like an idiot. He can admit it’s a stupid question, but he just feels like he has to say something.

“Obviously!” Megumi sends him a final glare as if to tell him to shut the fuck up, which Yuuji does, immediately.

Suddenly, a lot of things start to make sense at once. He’d thought Megumi was being dramatic in assuming that Gojo was behind the whole identity fraud thing from a while back, but now Yuuji is like ninety percent sure the man was in fact responsible. It all starts to come together in his mind much too quickly. Had Gojo been the one to get him an invite to this stupid party? It would make sense, because how else would the Zen’ins have his information or know where to send it? But why? Was it really that important to get Yuuji alone? Why couldn’t he just ask Megumi those questions directly? Why the charade of being ‘a friend of the Zen’in family’ instead of just properly introducing himself? None of it makes sense!

Toji tries to slip into the crowd while they’re distracted, but Gojo’s hand on his shoulder holds firm. From behind Megumi, Yuuji catches a glimpse of Maki and Kugisaki at the edge of the crowd. They both look deeply concerned and Maki is brutally but carefully carving a path toward them through the throng of people, Kugisaki following closely behind. On the opposite side of the room, an irate Naoya and stumbling Naobito make their way over, taking much less care as they shove aside guests and staff alike.

Unsettling blue eyes dart between Megumi and Toji, and Gojo finally settles on addressing the elder Fushiguro first. “You aren’t going anywhere. Long time no see, Toji!”

“Fuck off, freak. Let me go.”

“But you just got here! Won’t you stay for some family bonding?” Yuuji winces as Gojo’s grip on Toji tightens to the point where the man is forced to hunch down in an effort to get away from the pain. “You can’t just show up out of nowhere and then leave right away! Where’s the fun in that?”

“Asshole, get off, I’m serious,” Toji hisses, struggling again to free himself. His hands are clenched into fists by his side, and Yuuji doesn’t miss the way Gojo squares his shoulders and makes use of his abnormal height once again.

They look like they’re about to come to blows when Megumi interrupts again. “Gojo, what the fuck did you do?”

Gojo looks at Megumi, affronted. His hold on Toji seems to lighten a fraction, but he keeps the man in place. “What do you mean? It’s not my fault he’s here! I had no idea!”

Megumi’s jaw clenches and his eyes narrow. He takes half a step forward before thinking better of it and leaning back into Yuuji’s chest. The position almost reminds Yuuji of when they first met and Megumi cuddled up to him in an effort to convince Sukuna they were about to hook up. It’s a warm memory for Yuuji, even if the situation sucked. When he’d first laid eyes on Megumi on that couch all those months ago, all he could think about was how gorgeous this stranger was, and then to be so suddenly and surprisingly close to him, to feel his body slot perfectly against Yuuji’s own, it was almost too much to handle. He’d sent a silent prayer of thanks to Todo for shoving him so unceremoniously into this angel’s lap, and then it only got better from there. He has to fight off the urge to tilt his head forward and clamp down on Megumi’s neck, the way he so desperately wanted to that night and the way he had made sure to do as often as possible ever since he earned the right to touch Megumi like he really wanted. So not the time to be getting horny for my hot boyfriend, oh my god. Focus, Yuuji. Focus!

“I don’t give a fuck about Toji. You’re the reason Yuuji was invited tonight, right? So what did you do?” Megumi’s voice starts to shake, his hand feeling clammy in Yuuji’s. It reminds Yuuji that Megumi is seeking his touch for comfort, not protection or lust or anything else, just comfort. This is undoubtedly Megumi’s worst nightmare come to life. He had no control over Yuuji and Gojo meeting, something he clearly wanted, and now his biological father has shown up out of the blue after over a decade of no contact at a party for the cousin who assaulted him when he was a child. Yuuji’s surprised he hasn’t fainted from emotional fatigue yet. He presses into Megumi’s back, resting his chin on his shoulder in a way he hopes grounds the shorter man.

“Gumi, listen—”

Megumi puts out a hand to stop Gojo’s defense, eyes squeezed shut. “Just save it. I really do not want to talk to you right now. We’ll deal with it later.” He looks at Toji, glaring daggers. “Next time you wanna show up unannounced after abandoning someone, maybe try a little harder to apologize instead of acting like a dick.”

Toji finally manages to shake off Gojo’s hold, but he doesn’t take the chance to run off. He looks at Megumi as if assessing him, and Yuuji thinks he catches a glimmer of remorse in his expression. He doubts that Megumi is clear-headed enough to notice, though. His boyfriend is emotionally obtuse on a good day, and downright blind on a bad one like today. “That’s fair enough, I guess.” He looks between Gojo and Yuuji, and then at Megumi for a long second, eyes clouded with unidentified emotion. “Hey, wanna take a walk?” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing toward a large glass door that seems to lead to a garden of some kind.

Gojo seems to start to answer for Megumi, posture defensive, but he stops when Megumi waves him off.

The younger Fushiguro is quiet for a second, intelligent eyes boring holes into his father’s face.

“Yea, let’s.” He lets go of Yuuji, squeezing his hand once to signal he’s okay, and then walks toward the exit without another word and without waiting for Toji. The crowd parts for him, ferocious whispers resuming, and Toji sighs before walking after Megumi at a casual pace. Gojo is frowning as he watches them go. When the crowd disperses, seemingly no longer interested seeing as the would-be prodigal son is no longer involved, the white-haired man buries his face in his hands and lets out a quiet screech. Yuuji thinks he hears him mumble “why do I keep fucking this up,” but he can’t be sure because at that exact moment, both Maki and Kugisaki and Naobito and Naoya finally reach them.

“Where did he go?”

Maki and Naoya speak at the same time and say the same words, but Yuuji isn’t sure if they’re talking to him or to Gojo, or if they’re even talking about the same ‘him.’

Kugisaki walks up to Gojo and puts a comforting hand on his back. She whispers something to him that makes him deflate, hands still pressed to his face. Naobito and Naoya are both shouting over each other, something about how unbecoming this entire affair was for the Zen’in clan, and how disrespectful Gojo and Toji and Megumi are, but Yuuji isn’t really listening.

Everything in him screams to go after Megumi. He wants to help, oh god, does he want to help. But he has no idea if that’s what Megumi wants. For months he’s relied on his uncanny ability to understand the dark-haired man and he’s let that guide him, and now it’s failing him at such a crucial moment. For all he knows, Megumi might be planning to murder Toji in cold-blooded revenge. Probably not, but it’s possible.

Honestly, he feels pretty drained himself, and he doesn’t even know if he’d be able to provide the support Megumi needs right now if he tried. This entire evening has consisted of back to back blows to his emotional stability. He prides himself in having a strong foundation for his emotions, instilled in him by a grumpy grandpa, an overly serious Nanami, and an overbearing and overly emotional older brother.

He ignores Maki calling out to him and leaves the small group, setting his plates down on a random table (a quiet part of him mourns for wasting such delicious free food, but his appetite has pretty much disappeared) before finding an empty hallway to go down. He walks for a few minutes before sliding his back down a wall. He rests his arms on his knees and they pillow his head.

Someone slides down next to him, close enough to feel their warmth but not quite touching. He peeks over his arms and sees Kugisaki. Her head is tilted back against the wall as she stares blankly, looking equally as drained as he is.

“That was pretty crazy, huh?”

Yuuji nods.

“I hate these fucking clan bastards. They’re always sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong. You know, one time they tried to show up at one of Meg’s lectures in an attempt to convince him to join the clan officially? He broke the guy’s nose, I think.”

He huffs out a breathy laugh, but can’t find it in him to ask more about that. His mind is consumed by one thing.

At his silence, Kugisaki hums, considering, before nudging his side lightly. “Has he told you about Toji yet?”

Groaning, Yuuji looks at her. “Just a bit. Enough to know that whatever they’re talking about right now can’t be good.” He throws his head back, mirroring her position and spreading his legs out. “I wish I knew more, I feel so useless.”

Kugisaki smiles, eyes fluttering shut. “He’s tight-lipped like that. It’s annoying.”

They let that sit for a moment.

“I don’t even know why I’m so emotional, it’s not like my previously thought dead parent showed up and tried to talk to my boyfriend.” He sighs, chest aching at the movement. Kugisaki doesn’t say anything. “I’m just worried about him, I guess. He was so clearly at his limit back there.”

Beside him, Kugisaki chuckles. “It’s cute that you can tell that so easily. Took me at least a year to read him that well.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Yeah.”

It’s weird to see Kugisaki so reserved. She’s normally bouncing off the walls, quick to shout out some sarcastic, man-hating insult or demand one of them carry her bags. He hasn’t known her outside of the connection to Megumi for very long, but they text, sometimes about Megumi, sometimes about other stuff. She’s become a pretty reliable confidant, oddly enough.

“Has he told you about any of it?”

He doesn’t really know why he asks it. Kugisaki has known Megumi for much longer than him, so she’s bound to have more information. It isn’t anything to be jealous of.

“Not much more than you, honestly,” she murmurs. That surprises him, so he waits for her to go on. “You know, I only met Tsumiki and Gojo on a fluke. Two flukes, actually. We got so close we moved in together in the second semester of first year, but he hadn’t even told me he had a sister before she showed up on our doorstep during finals, worried to death because he hadn’t answered her texts or calls for days. It was shortly after he broke up with Sukuna, when he was really going through it.” She scoffs as she recounts the memory. “Imagine my surprise when I went from begging him to open his bedroom door and show proof of life to opening our front door to see a woman with tear tracks down her cheeks holding way too many jars of soup and asking about my reclusive roommate.” She smiles softly down at her knees, hands twisting together. “I think he might’ve been more upset that I met her without his input than he was about her showing up in general.”

Yuuji listens attentively while Kugisaki continues. She rests her head on his shoulder.

“With Gojo, I met him because he was dropping off some house-warming gifts in a subtle nudge to get Megumi to introduce us when we first moved in together. He hadn’t intended to meet me that day, I don’t think. I actually assume he was hoping to convince Megumi to set up a time and place that he felt he had control over for when he introduced us. He pestered Megumi about it a lot, but he was weirdly respectful of Megumi’s boundaries back then,” she sighs, wistful. “Anyway, Gojo just showed up one day and used a key the building gave him when he signed for the place, and I happened to be in the kitchen. He’s definitely got poor impulse control because I could tell he wanted to wait for Megumi but was too tempted by the chance to interrogate me on his own. Megs was pissed, of course, but it’s not like Gojo was asking for anything ridiculous, he just wanted to meet the person living with his kid, which is pretty fair.

“I’m telling you this because I’ve never, ever, seen him try so hard for someone. The way he tries for you…it’s difficult for Megumi to open up that part of him. In my professional opinion as a self-proclaimed Fushiguro Megumi expert, I’m sure it’s his abandonment issues that make him have this irrational fear that everyone he cares about will one day leave, so he put up walls to keep people out and avoid ever being vulnerable in the first place. By introducing you to Tsumiki on purpose, he was basically handing you his still-beating heart on a silver platter. I don’t know why Gojo set all this up,” she waves her hand around, clicking her tongue, “because, and again I’m just guessing here, I assume he’s the reason you got your own invite, right? Like I said, he used to be really careful not to disrespect Meg’s boundaries, but since Sukuna it’s been hard for him. It was hard for all of us to see him go through that, and I think it made us all a little more protective. A lot more, in Gojo’s case. Even Maki started checking up on him more, and she’s almost worse than him about confronting her emotions.

“But I’m sure you know that all already, huh? You’re better at reading him than I am, and in a quarter of the time.” She snorts, butting the top of her head against his shoulder. “Kinda pisses me off, honestly. I don’t like being worse at things than other people.”

Yuuji smiles down at his lap. “And Toji? He never told you about him?”

She clicks her tongue. “Honestly? I think he was being truthful when he said he thought the guy was dead, so I guess he never saw a reason to share. That whole business was kept very hush-hush between Gojo and the Zen’ins, and until tonight no one had heard from Toji since he left, according to Maki. At least, not that I’m aware of. It’s probably freaky as fuck for Megs, but he’s stronger than you think.”

“I know. He is.”

Kugisaki hums, and they stay like that until Maki (who had apparently been held up by an argument with Naobito and Naoya) eventually finds them and drags them back to the ballroom.

Yuuji spots Gojo sitting at a table near the back, forlornly picking at a plate of sweets, and heads toward him. Wisely, Maki and Kugisaki hang back.

Gojo doesn’t look up at Yuuji approaches. He’s tearing apart a napkin, creating a little pile of shreds next to his plate. It shocks Yuuji, just how familiar the action is. He hesitates before sitting down because it strikes him hard that this is exactly something Megumi would do if he was anxious. His hands are always fidgeting like he has too much energy, even though he rarely, if ever, outwardly acts like he’s pent up. His fidgeting is usually the only sign of it. Megumi would surely deny it, but, to Yuuji, it’s clear as day that he must’ve picked the habit up from his guardian.

Sitting down at the table, he leaves one empty chair between himself and Gojo. Wordlessly, Gojo slides over his plate and gestures for Yuuji to eat off it. Yuuji hesitates. As much as he wants to talk to this man and get some things straight, he is rather hungry, and he’d been forced to abandon his own carefully curated plate, and those pastries do look very tasty…

Quiet laughter peels out of Gojo as Yuuji unceremoniously shoves a strawberry filled croissant in his mouth. Yuuji can feel the older man’s piercing gaze, but he finishes chewing and swallows before making eye contact.

“You’re the one who got me an invite for tonight, right?”

Looking torn between acting sheepish or self-congratulatory, Gojo nods. He lets out a soft sigh and cocks his head as he takes a piece of mochi for himself. His voice sounds kind of hollow when he speaks, though he tries to sound cheery, “Cutting right to the chase, huh? Ya caught me! The Zen’ins had no idea who you were, L.O.L.”

Did he just spell ‘LOL’ out loud? What the fuck?

“Before you start spiralling, I didn’t do it so I could talk to you without Megumi there. Well, I didn’t only do it because of that.” The white-haired man clicks his tongue and bites into his mochi, continuing to speak with his mouth full. “I mostly—at least half of my motivation was making sure someone came with Megumi tonight. It’s hard for him to be around the Zen’ins, and I didn’t want him showing up alone and feeling uncomfortable.”

Yuuji frowns, tearing off another piece of croissant. “Why didn’t you just come with him? You must have had an invite if you’re here, right?”

Gojo scoffs, raising an eyebrow at Yuuji. “You really think he would’ve agreed to have me chaperone?”

“You wouldn’t be chaperoning, just arriving together,” Yuuji rebuts.

The older man only shakes his head as a small, resigned smile creeps onto his lips. “Gumi wouldn’t see it that way, he’d see it as me trying to chaperone him. So, I thought the best thing would be to get you invited because I was sure he’d jump at the chance to force you into formal attire. He doesn’t say it but he loves that shit.”

Yuuji bites his lip and eats another mouthful of croissant.

“How’d you know that? I mean, how’d you know he would even want me here? I doubt Megs has been super open with you about our relationship, so for all you know maybe he secretly hates me,” Yuuji asserts. Another thought comes to his mind, “Plus, it took me weeks to convince him to let me meet Tsumiki, and last I checked he was still on the fence about you and I meeting. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘I’ll jump at the chance to bring this guy to a family function.’”

Gojo looks at him, appraising. It’s got a different feel to earlier in the night when Gojo stared at him as if he could see right through. Now, it’s like he’s actually taking the time to see Yuuji. “He actually hasn’t even officially told me he’s in a relationship, I found out through Nobara. And also through hacking his gcal. Though is it really hacking if we’re on a family plan so I have access anyway?” He chuckles. “Can you believe that kid puts all his dates with you in his fucking calendar? He’s such a nerd.”

That throws Yuuji for a loop. “He didn’t even tell you that we’re dating?”

Shrugging, Gojo keeps laughing softly to himself. “I’m sure he knew that I knew. He probably just wanted to avoid an awkward conversation and also put off me asking to meet you,” he sighs out, turning to look down at the napkin he’s resumed shredding. “I wouldn’t take it personally if I were you. It’s definitely my fault he’s so closed off about it. I didn’t exactly…react well to the whole Sukuna situation. I assume you’re familiar?”

Yuuji nods. He still can’t quite figure out what emotion he should be feeling right now.

“Right, of course you are. You beat him up, right?” This time Gojo laughs loudly, reaching over to clap Yuuji on the back and confusing Yuuji’s emotions even more in the process. “My guy! I love guys like you, no bullshit, fists before words. Really living up to the frat boy stereotype, huh? I got a kick out of that story when Nobara told me. Honestly, I’m a little mad you got to him first, though I doubt the police would smile upon a thirty-something beating up some college kid. So thanks for doing it for me.”

Frowning, Yuuji reaches over and takes a small piece of sponge cake off the plate. “Well, he’s not even a ‘college kid’ anymore, and I didn’t do it for you, I did it because he was hurting Megumi.”

Gojo’s small smile returns. “I know.”

“Why’d you even do all this?” Yuuji waves his hand around. Why did you really get me invited? Why did you corner me? Why did you run a credit check on me? Why did you hack my email? He should probably feel more upset at Gojo’s blatant disregard for his privacy, but he’s having a hard time with that for some reason. The guy’s eyes just look so…sad.

“Ah, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? You’re so perceptive, Yuuji-kun. Why did I do all this…” He pauses, drumming his fingertips on the table. The torn up napkin lays to the side, discarded. “Well, at first I wanted to make sure you weren’t a psychopath out to hurt my kid. I guess I’ve been a little overprotective since the Sukuna debacle…I felt guilty for not noticing earlier, I think, so I figured it was better to be safe than sorry when I heard Gumi had a new beau.” He looks at Yuuji again, grinning. “Though I’m starting to get the feeling it was super unnecessary with you.”

“And then what was it?”

“Hm?”

“You said ‘at first’ it was you being overprotective. What was the reason after that?”

Gojo hums in understanding. “Damn, nothing gets past you.” He pauses as if to collect his thoughts. “I suppose you were an intriguing puzzle. It took me, like, five seconds to determine that you weren’t the same type of guy as Sukuna based on your internet search history alone, so I had no further reason to be suspicious of your motivations for dating Gumi. Being in Sukuna’s same frat threw me off for sure, but I figured out pretty quickly that you wouldn’t hurt a fly,” he interrupts himself with a chuckle. “Well, without reason. Maybe you’d hurt a fly if it was threatening Megumi. Anyway, after it was clear you weren’t the same sort of abusive prick, I wanted to figure out what was so special about you to get past all my little Gumi-chan’s self-destructive self-defense mechanisms. By now I’m sure you’re aware just how emotionally-constipated he is at the best of times. It was baffling to me that in one semester you managed to get him to open up more than Tsumiki or I, or even Nobara—and he loves that girl—could after months and months of trying. Needless to say, I can totally understand why he picked you.”

The white-haired man suddenly looks up and across the room. Yuuji follows his line of sight and sees Megumi coming back in from the same door he left through. Toji is nowhere to be seen, at least not yet.

“That being said, if you so much as think about hurting Megumi, I will not hesitate to have you expelled, destroy your credit, and ruin your name with any and every film studio this side of the equator. Then I will find you in whatever shitty hovel you’re forced to rent because your credit will be useless and you won’t have a job, and I will burn said hovel down. Capiche?” He says the threat with a genuine smile, eyes closed from the rounding of his cheeks.

Yuuji is dumbfounded. He stares at Gojo, slack jawed, but can only nod as Megumi rapidly approaches their table.

Megumi’s face is like a stone as he comes to a stop behind Yuuji’s chair and puts a hand on his shoulder. Gojo smiles at him.

“Gumi-chan! Welcome back. I hope you didn’t murder him.”

“Shut up, Gojo. I’ll deal with you later,” Megumi hisses, glaring at his guardian. It’s the first shred of emotion he’s shown since reentering the building. However, the hostility only serves to make Gojo laugh again. The older man stands, patting both Yuuji and Megumi on the shoulder.

“It was lovely to meet you, Yuuji-kun. Nanami’s praises were well-deserved!” He leans over to kiss the top of Megumi’s head, only to be swatted away with a sneer. “I’ll text you later, Gumi. Get home safe, ‘kay?” And then he’s gone, blending effortlessly into the crowd despite his abnormally tall stature.

Megumi deflates, leaning over to rest his forehead on the crown of Yuuji’s head. He inhales deeply as his arms wrap around Yuuji’s shoulders from behind. “Yuuji, let’s go home.”

“Yeah, this party blows. There’s not even any beer pong.”

—

one

megumi’s pov

When they get home, all Megumi wants to do is crawl into his bed and sleep for thirty years.

Maki and Nobara retire to Nobara’s room immediately. They’re clearly in a much better mood than him, but at least they have the decency to wait until they’re behind closed doors to dissolve into a giggle fit.

Yuuji, always so, so sweet, presses a kiss to Megumi’s forehead before padding into the kitchen to fix them both a cup of hot cocoa. He doesn’t seem all that upset, which Megumi supposes can be counted as a win after he was surprise attacked by Gojo fucking Satoru, but he’s sure his boyfriend is just as drained as Megumi is.

As he drags a hand down his face and collapses on the couch, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Gojo Satoru (ICE) (11:03 pm)

Call me tomorrow?

Megumi is tempted to ignore him. He is so unbelievably pissed at Gojo right now. How dare he go behind Megumi’s back to interrogate his boyfriend the second he gets him alone! It was so rude, so disrespectful.

A small part of Megumi’s conscience tugs at the back of his mind, something that tells him it’s because he cares. A momentarily stronger, more angry part rebuts, it’s because he doesn’t trust you to make good decisions for yourself.

He tosses his head back and lets his eyes close with exhaustion. Going into the evening he’d been prepared to deal with the Zen’ins. He’d been ready to face their homophobia and hatred full on, comforted by the steady presence of Yuuji and the persistent strength of Maki and Nobara. He’d even been a little excited at the prospect of showing off how much he’s achieved without Zen’in influence. And he’d felt good after the conversation (if you can call it that) with Naoya and Naobito, who were obviously ticked off by his perceived insolence and disinterest in clan affairs.

He doesn’t even know how to begin processing the entire Toji situation.

“I really am sorry, kid. I know that probably means jack shit to you, but it’s the truth.”

Like, what is he supposed to do with that?

Being emotionally weak and vulnerable is an unpleasantly familiar feeling, and he wants nothing more than to shut off his brain and pretend the entire night didn’t happen. He feels like a rat on a wheel, forever running forward but always ending up in the same place.

He focuses on the sound of Yuuji clanking around in the kitchen and takes a deep breath.

me (11:15 pm)

yeah, i’ll call you in the morning

—

Megumi regrets everything.

Well, not everything. He doesn’t regret Yuuji, for one. He mostly doesn’t regret Nobara, either. Except for when he found out that she’s the one who snitched on him to Gojo.

But he does regret whatever series of decisions he made that resulted in this very situation.

He’s at Gojo’s house, with Yuuji sitting next to him on the couch and Tsumiki across the coffee table on the loveseat. Gojo is pacing the room, hand on his chin. Every few laps he’ll pause, look at them, open his mouth as if to speak, and then close it and continue pacing.

Next to him, Yuuji is, understandably, growing increasingly nervous. He’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat. When this whole ridiculous charade started, Megumi had tried to grab his hand to comfort him, only for Yuuji to drop it like he’d been burned upon being on the receiving end of a fierce glare from Gojo. Now, his boyfriend won’t so much as look at him, and he’s put a ridiculous amount of space between them on the couch.

Megumi isn’t even sure why Gojo is acting like this. Yuuji had filled him in on their halfway heart-to-heart the day after the party and, from his explanation, it seemed like they had come to some sort of mutual understanding. Yuuji hadn’t told him every last detail, but it was enough to be clear that Gojo didn’t have any animosity toward the pink-haired boy, at least not outwardly anymore. As much as Gojo’s meddling pissed him off, Megumi was glad that it hadn’t gone as terribly as he’d predicted, and a little chuffed that he didn’t even have to sit through the awkward conversation himself. He was so emboldened, in fact, that he’d offered to bring Yuuji over to the house for his birthday, so he could officially meet Gojo and spend more time with Tsumiki. His sister, on one hand, had been overjoyed and immediately started listing off things she needed to prepare and asking what sort of food Yuuji likes. Gojo, on the other hand…

His idiot guardian had hung up the phone when Megumi told him he’d be bringing Yuuji for his birthday. It took three callbacks before he answered again, and another five minutes of nothing before he stopped breathing so harshly without saying a word. When he finally did break the silence, Gojo’s responses were clipped and emotionless. “He can come…He can stay in the guest room…No, not in your room…I don’t know what you mean, I’m behaving perfectly normally…See you in a few days.”

It was the most stilted conversation they’d had in a while, and, for once, the cumbersome nature of their dialogue wasn’t the fault of Megumi. Gojo is usually an unbearable chatterbox, but he’d been struck silent for some indiscernible reason and it had made Megumi nervous.

Still, he proceeded with the plan. He’d already confirmed it with Tsumiki and lord only knows what level of fury he’d incur from her if he tried to back out now.

When he and Yuuji arrived this morning, not even an hour ago, Tsumiki had been the one to greet them. She hugged Megumi tight with a “happy birthday, Bug!” and immediately embraced Yuuji with the same level of warmth. Yuuji was clearly surprised at first, but he melted into the touch like every person does with Tsumiki, which made Megumi smile like a dope. They’d handed Shiro and Kuro’s leashes to Tsumiki so she could let them out into the backyard to run around, and she also took their coats and offered to stash Yuuji’s bag (which he not so inconspicuously picked up from his frat house on their way over) in the coat room. Yuuji even tried his best not to snort at the fact they even had a coat room, which Megumi appreciated. It had been a good omen, Megumi thought, to have such a positive start to the visit.

The warm feeling lasted approximately two minutes because it shriveled up and died the second he stepped past the entryway and into the living room to see Gojo sitting on the loveseat, legs crossed and lips pursed while he flipped through a magazine he obviously wasn’t paying attention to. He said hello to Megumi but didn’t even glance at Yuuji before his eyes dropped to their intertwined hands and he frowned. Rather than standing to welcome them in, or even to ruffle Megumi’s hair like he knows Megumi hates, he’d only set down his magazine (which, Megumi soon realized, he’d been holding upside down) and disappeared upstairs for almost an hour. He hadn’t even said happy birthday, which usually wouldn’t have bothered Megumi but today it did, for some reason.

Yuuji looked positively mortified and he only moved when Megumi shoved him toward the couch and Tsumiki put a cup of fresh coffee in his hands.

The three of them had made small talk for the duration of Gojo’s tantrum, Yuuji slowly relaxing and leaning into Megumi’s side. Tsumiki updated them on her internship search, and Megumi recounted the engagement party debacle, skating over the less desirable details. Obviously, Tsumiki had been made aware of Toji’s sudden reappearance almost immediately (meaning Megumi called her the second they left the Zen’in premises and by this point they’d talked about it for hours already), but she listened with rapt attention as Megumi nonlinearly retold the frustrating incident.

Despite the serious nature of the topic, Megumi couldn’t help but laugh as Yuuji blushed when he told Tsumiki how Yuuji was the one to make first contact, and how Megumi had never seen Yuuji look so utterly lost for words as he did when Toji asked if he was dating Megumi. He took some responsibility for the blatant confusion Yuuji suffered through, since it would be weird for anyone to suddenly be confronted by your partner’s biological father after being told he was probably dead barely twenty-four hours ago.

It was at that point, when Megumi was wrapping up explaining how Yuuji had called Gojo ‘Einstein,’ much to the amusement of Tsumiki, that Gojo reemerged at the top of the staircase.

He interrupted the conversation with a loud clearing of his throat but didn’t use the newfound silence to say anything, only creeping down the steps in an overly dramatic fashion like he was in a damn soap opera. Megumi had rolled his eyes, which made Gojo frown as he came to a stop in front of the couple. Tsumiki only relaxed back into her chair, smiling into the top of her coffee mug.

And that’s how they got here, with Gojo’s ceaseless pacing and a bead of cold sweat growing on Yuuji’s brow.

“Can we get this over with, already? I’d rather not spend my birthday getting glared at for no reason.”

Gojo only glares at him harder, but at least he stops pacing. The older man leans back against the brick fireplace, eyes narrow.

“So, Itadori-san. Now that we’ve become acquainted, I was hoping you could tell me what you could possibly bring to the table that makes you worthy of my precious little Megumi-chan?”

Megumi gasps over Tsumiki’s quiet giggles. “Gojo! What the hell?”

“Shh, Megumi-chan. The adult is speaking.”

“Yeah, right. You’re way less of an adult than I am.”

Gojo ignores him, to Megumi’s chagrin. It’s usually much easier to get the idiot off topic by insulting him like that, but he must be determined to embarrass Megumi as much as humanly possible. Yuuji, surprisingly, doesn’t falter. He actually looks a lot less nervous than before as he sits up straight, pins his shoulders back, and folds his hands neatly in his lap.

“An excellent and perceptive question, Gojo-sama. I regret to inform you that I bring nothing to this relationship except my undying love for Megumi-kun and willingness to do anything within my power to ensure his happiness. I am but a humble peasant in the face of his beauty and wit, and gladly accept any affection of which he deems me worthy.”

What the fuck.

“What the fuck? Don’t call him Gojo-sama, are you insane? And what’s with the eighteenth century lingo?” Megumi sputters as he tries to think of something to say that will make sense of whatever the fuck Yuuji just said. Yuuji doesn’t even look at him, eyes trained on Gojo.

The white-haired man’s lip quirks up a tick.

“I see. I appreciate your honesty, Itadori-san. It is a pity that you have so little to offer…but I suppose I can’t expect anyone to have everything sweet Megumi-chan deserves. I do commend your dedication to his well-being.”

“Of course, Gojo-sama. I apologize for my inadequacy, and also for failing to attain your blessing before beginning to court Megumi-kun. It is my deepest regret to not have considered this earlier and I shall do whatever it takes to regain your trust in hopes of one day gaining your approval, however long such a task may take.”

Megumi gapes at the two of them, face turning to look between his guardian and his boyfriend like he’s watching a car crash in real time. “What the hell? Yuuji, you aren’t inadequate, and stop calling him that!”

Finally, Yuuji turns to look at him. Megumi notices a mischievous glint in his eye that makes him rear back as Yuuji slides off the couch and drops to a knee. He grabs both of Megumi’s hands and bows his head, resting his forehead against Megumi’s knuckles. “Please accept my deepest apologies, Megumi-kun, for I have been careless with your honor and mine own. I would prostrate myself before you if it would earn your forgiveness, and I shall grovel tirelessly in search of it.”

“Okay, what is going on?” There is no way Yuuji could correctly use the word ‘prostrate’ off the rip like that. “One of you fess up or I will leave this house right now.”

Yuuji’s shoulders are shaking and Megumi would almost think he was crying if it wasn’t for the stifled laughter he can hear through bitten lips. Gojo is faring slightly better in maintaining the charade, face still impassive. The only hint that he’s amused at all is that same slightly quirked lip.

Tsumiki chimes in, eyes wide with mirth. “I don’t know, Megumi, I think you should accept Yuuji-kun’s apology. He seems truly remorseful.”

He glares at his sister and she only giggles some more. Megumi yanks his hands out of Yuuji’s grip and stands quickly. “Gojo, I swear—”

And then Yuuji’s stifled laugh breaks into full on cackling as he rolls around on the floor. Gojo breaks at the same time, bending over with a wheeze and smacking his knee while pointing at Megumi and attempting to gasp out an explanation. Megumi feels as his face starts to burn and he’s sure his cheeks are a violent pink while his family and boyfriend all laugh at him.

Eventually, Yuuji seems to take pity on him (about damn time, what kind of boyfriend acts like this?). The pink-haired man struggles to regulate his breathing before climbing back onto the couch and pulling Megumi down beside him, prior gap extinguished. He pecks Megumi’s cheek and Megumi sneers, pointedly wiping off the remnants of the kiss.

“Sorry!” He laughs again, arm tight around Megumi’s waist. “I’m sorry, baby! Gojo roped me into it, I swear. It was all his idea.”

Gojo clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Not very respectful to pin the blame on your elders, Yuuji-kun. Especially when said elder is your boyfriend’s dad.”

“Don’t call yourself my dad.”

“Sure, but I’m not not your dad, right?”

Megumi glares. He isn’t sure if Gojo knows his wording strikes a chord, since he trusts Yuuji enough to believe he wouldn’t break his promise to keep their conversation private, but at this point anything is possible considering these two dolts were competent and annoying enough to plan something like this behind his back.

He grits his teeth. “Will someone please explain what just happened?” He is this close to blowing a gasket, he swears.

Gojo only raises an eyebrow at Yuuji, as if to say ‘do you want to tell him, or should I?’, which doesn’t bode well for this explanation being anything near positive.

Yuuji kisses his teeth and turns to face Megumi more directly. “Well, see Gojo knew you were nervous about us meeting officially, so he texted me and told me he wanted to pull a small prank to ease the tension. So we sort of…scripted this? Honestly, I think I accidentally lifted my lines from Bridgerton or something, it was pretty last minute. You’re not mad, are you? Please don’t be mad, I just wanted to make you laugh.”

Megumi wants to be mad. He wants to be furious that Gojo would disrespect his boundaries again and contact Yuuji behind his back. But something about the earnest look on Yuuji’s kind face, the sort of look that a puppy gets after completing a trick as they await their reward, tells him there was never any real malice behind the plan.

It was honestly on the more harmless end of Gojo’s pranks, anyway. He’d once thought it would be funny to show up to Megumi’s school and (inexplicably manage to) get the principal to call Megumi to the office because he was getting picked up for “family bonding activities,” a stunt which got no less than five kids beat up for attempting to make fun of Megumi over it. This scripted scene, amongst the legions of former Gojo pranks, was child’s play.

He maintains his facade of anger for a moment more before allowing himself to crack a small smile. He quickly wicks it from his face, but not before Gojo notices and bounds over to pinch his cheeks while cooing “Happy birthday, Megumi-channn!” over and over again. Yuuji buries his face in Megumi’s shoulder as he starts laughing again, and, seemingly feeling left out, Tsumiki skips over to wrap herself around Megumi’s other side and press a bunch of kisses into his hair like he’s seven again.

As hard as he tries to maintain his irritation, he can’t help but sink into the affection.

“Okay, okay, I get it! It’s fine, I forgive you, I’m not mad, whatever. Just let me go, please,” he sighs, shimmying away from all the touch as it starts to border on too much. Yuuji and Tsumiki both let him go with a few final squeezes, though Yuuji immediately grabs a hold of his hand. Gojo lingers a moment more, cupping Megumi’s cheeks in his hands as he leans precariously over the coffee table. Megumi’s brow furrows as the embrace stretches beyond normal and starts to feel dread build as Gojo’s expression shifts from joviality, to apprehension, to determination. His grip tightens as Megumi tries to lean away until finally his guardian leans over and plants a wet smooch right on his forehead before nuzzling his nose into his hair relentlessly. Gagging, Megumi manages to free himself and escape Gojo’s clutches, wiping saliva off his forehead in disgust.

Gojo laughs at his reaction and flops onto the other side of the couch, his weight causing Megumi and Yuuji to bounce slightly.

“Perfect! Now, Yuuji-kun, I know you have plans to be a producer but I think acting is really your future, I mean you totally had Megumi-chan speechless—”

Megumi groans, blush returning with a vengeance. “Oh my god, shut up!”

—

Once Megumi manages to calm down and get Gojo and Yuuji to stop teasing him, they settle into a comfortable conversation. Tsumiki puts on some holiday music on the surround sound speakers (“aren’t we celebrating my birthday, not Christmas? Why are you playing Christmas music?” “well, maybe you should have thought about that before choosing to have a birthday two days before my favorite holiday”) and Gojo fixes them all some breakfast. He, surprisingly, manages not to burn anything, but he also tries to present a tray of pastries with claims that he baked them himself even though Megumi clocks the bags with the logo of his favorite bakery in the trash almost instantly. Yuuji offers to teach Gojo how to bake if he wants and Megumi has to physically stop the older man from dragging his boyfriend into the kitchen for an impromptu lesson.

They’re sitting around the table in the cozy breakfast nook (another thing which makes Yuuji snicker and whisper “rich people behavior” into Megumi’s ear) when the subject of their relationship comes up again.

“You know, Yuuji-kun, I’ve gotta say you should be careful.”

Yuuji, backlit from the bay windows he sits in front of, looks at Gojo thoughtfully. His feet are up on the cushioned bench and tucked under Megumi’s thigh. “Hm? What do you mean?”

“I mean, Megumi-chan is a real heartbreaker,” Gojo sighs wistfully. “He takes after his step-father like that.”

A beat of silence.

“Wha—are you talking about Suguru?” Megumi gives Gojo an incredulous look.

Gojo cocks an eyebrow at him. “Oh, he gets ‘Suguru’ but I’m still ‘Gojo’? Ice cold, Megumi.”

Megumi ignores him and turns to look at Yuuji. He places a hand on his shoulder and looks into his eyes seriously. ““Don’t listen to him, Yuuji. He’s still hung up on his on again, off again ex from high school.”

“I think you mean my soulmate, Megumi.’

“You’re soulmate who is currently in prison, making you the furthest from an authority on romance one could possibly be.”

At that Yuuji perks up, suddenly following the conversation more clearly. “Hey, you’re talking about Geto Suguru, right? Baby, but didn’t Yuki say he was exonerated?”

“Yuuji! Dont.”

“What?” Yuuji sounds genuinely confused about why Megumi might be annoyed.

He gives his boyfriend a look and turns away from him with a huff, stabbing a fork into his breakfast sausage. Gojo, expectedly, perks up at Yuuji’s words.

“Yuki like Tsukumo Yuki who has a contract with the university? You know her?”

Yuuji nods, chewing a bite of egg before smiling. “Mhm, she’s my brother’s fiance.”

“And she mentioned Suguru?” He sounds way too excited, like a child who’s just been told they can let their best friend stay the night.

“Oh my god, Gojo, you’re so useless!” Megumi huffs out. Tsumiki stutters out some excuse about refilling the orange juice (the jug of which was still-half full) before disappearing into the kitchen. Megumi would follow but he’s trapped in his seat by Yuuji and the table, which is pressed flush to the wall, and he can only frown deeper as he watches his sister sneak out the back door to go play with the dogs and avoid this conversation.

Gojo ignores him and leans over the table to get closer to Yuuji. Yuuji begins to look apprehensive, eyes shifting between Megumi and Gojo anxiously. Megumi only shakes his head. Yuuji shouldn’t have contradicted him in the first place if he knew what was good for him. You made your bed, now lie in it.

“What did she say about him? Did she know who I was?”

Megumi groans. “Why do you assume we even mentioned you?”

Again, Gojo waves him off, eyes locked intently on Yuuji.

“Um, well. She recognized Megumi’s name, I guess? Asked if he was the Fushiguro Megumi who’s also Gojo’s kid, and then explained that she works with Geto and that’s how she knows who he is.”

“And then what did she say?” Jeez, Gojo is truly so pathetic when it comes to Geto. It’s so embarrassing.

“That was pretty much it. Oh! Megumi said he thought Geto was in prison and Yuji said that it was a misunderstanding and that he’d been exonerated. She called him your ex, too.”

Gojo sits back in his seat, expression distant. Yuuji looks at Megumi imploringly, searching for some assistance. Pitying his boyfriend for having to deal with Gojo’s relentlessly annoying pining, Megumi decides to step in.

“You’re acting pathetic, Gojo.”

Okay, he never said he would help if he stepped in.

“Hey! Always so mean to me,” Gojo grumbles, eyes still vacant. His gaze snaps to Yuuji once more. Megumi can tell when his guardian is formulating a plan so he sighs preemptively. “Think you could give me this ‘Yuki’s’ number, Yuuji-kun?”

Hesitantly, Yuuji shrugs. “Sure, Gojo, if that’s what you want.”

Megumi lets his torso fall forward and his head hits the table with a satisfying thunk. His words are muffled by the wood, but definitely loud enough for Gojo to hear. “Just because he was exonerated doesn’t suddenly make him not a psychopath.”

“Like you have a leg to stand on when it comes to dating psychopaths, Megumi-chan,” Gojo scoffs. Megumi sits up and his mouth drops open in shock. Did he just make a joke about Sukuna? What the fu—”Though I must say your tastes have certainly improved. Mine, unfortunately, remain exactly the same.”

—

It’s later that evening when Megumi finally gets around to opening his gifts. Unsurprisingly, the bag Yuuji picked up from his frat house had four presents in it (“I planned to return the rest” his ass), and Gojo and Tsumiki hand him two gifts each.

They’re all cuddled up around the living room. The fireplace is on, the sound of crackling wood adding a nice background to the monotonous Christmas music that’s been on repeat since the morning, and they just finished cutting the cake. Tsumiki had made him a small cheesecake since he’s not a fan of overly sweet desserts, but she’d baked an additional chocolate cake slathered in ganache and frosting, mostly for Gojo and Yuuji.

As Megumi settles into the couch to prepare to unwrap gifts, Yuuji’s in the kitchen divvying up slices while Gojo hunts in the garage for more napkins. Tsumiki, perched on the armrest of the couch, clears her throat. “You know, Yuuji-kun and Gojo are pretty similar. Not just in their taste in men, but also their taste in food! Come to think of it, their personalities are actually really similar, too.”

“Tsumiki! Don’t say that,” Megumi whines.

She laughs, winking at him playfully. “What, I think it’s sweet! You always say your type is someone with unshakeable character, and your reference for strength in character is obviously Gojo so you looked for similarities in a partner! It makes total sense.”

“My reference for strong character is not Gojo. That man is the furthest thing from unshakeable, he breaks down over Geto every other week.”

Tsumiki cocks her head at him, brow raised. “Having emotional vulnerability doesn’t make someone weak, Megumi. You know this.”

Megumi rolls his eyes. If he never hears the term ‘emotional vulnerability’ ever again, he’ll die happy. “Whatever. Just don’t say that shit around Gojo or he will literally never shut up about it.”

Clearly pleased that he gave in, Tsumiki nods and retreats to the loveseat with a smile.

The other two return a few minutes later. Yuuji hands everyone a plate with their chosen cake and Gojo trails behind him handing out napkins and forks. Megumi is pretty sure the napkins (which have crude birthday decorations printed on them) are from one of his or Tsumiki’s childhood birthday parties, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

Yuuji flops down next to him, grin bright and cheeks warm. Megumi can't help but lean over and kiss his stupid face. The public display of affection draws gags from the peanut gallery but Megumi catches Tsumiki smiling and Gojo looking slightly less constipated than normal.

“Open mine first, Bug,” Tsumiki trills. She’s got her feet tucked up under herself like she used to do when they were kids and for a moment he imagines the first time they spent his birthday together, her, him, and Gojo, back when he was still a child and she was only just getting used to not bearing the weight of keeping them both off the streets. That had been a weird birthday. Gojo, the repressed teen that he was, had thought the best way to earn affection from his new wards was to waylay them with gifts. He’d filled the old Fushiguro apartment (because he was still a student back then and had no room to house two growing kids) with piles and piles of whatever he thought first grade boys enjoyed. It was super overwhelming for Megumi who was used to maybe getting an extra helping of whatever cheap takeout Toji brought home for his birthday present. Compared to him, Tsumiki was easily bought. Maybe ‘bought’ is unfair, since she gives out her affections so willingly anyway and was ready to accept Gojo as their new pseudo-parent the moment he showed up and offered to sign her up for ballet classes, but it definitely didn’t hurt that on Megumi’s birthday Gojo also gave her a small collection of presents.

That first birthday had seen him go into a near panic attack because the only time Toji ever bought him real gifts was when he knew he’d be leaving them alone for an indeterminate length of time and wanted to avoid a tantrum while he had the chance. Gojo, of course, had no such expectations and was genuinely just doing what he assumed adults should do for their kids. It was a rocky start between them, to say the least.

Pulling back from the memory, he picks up one of Tsumiki’s gifts from the coffee table. It’s easy to pick the ones from her out of the pile because they are the only ones wrapped neatly. Maybe Gojo and Yuuji are too similar…

He unwraps it and smiles privately as he reveals a beautifully bound copy of one of his favorite novels. He runs his hands reverently over the forest green cover, tracing the gold embossed lettering with his pinky. “Miki, this is great. Thank you.”

She hides a blush behind the too-long sleeve of her sweater (it might be one of his old sweaters, actually). “It's a limited edition printing, and it’s signed.” He flips open the front cover and sees that yes, it is indeed signed. It’s obvious that Tsumiki isn’t bragging about such a find, but rather she’s overly excited because she absolutely loves gift-giving. “It’s no biggie. Open the other one! It’s from both Gojo and I, actually.”

With a chuckle he carefully sets the book on the table (away from any and all mugs that might spill or leave behind a ring of liquid to ruin the cover) and grabs her other gift. This one is larger but somehow lighter. He raises a brow as he expertly tears the wrapping paper at the seams.

It’s a scrapbook, he thinks. The front doesn’t say anything but is decorated by a smattering of glittery stickers. Cautiously, he opens the binder and tears up almost instantly when he sees a picture of the two of them that must have been taken on some shitty old digital camera many, many years ago. In the photo Tsumiki’s got her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Back then she was still taller than him so her chin rests comfortably on the crown of his head. Their faces are a little gaunt, so it’s probably from when they were still just getting by, but regardless she’s got on a broad, toothy grin that contrasts heavily with his own scowl. He’s got grass stains covering his clothes and there's a small tear on the hem of Tsumiki’s blue dress. The background shows their old apartment but the angle is from fairly high up, so he’s pretty sure it must have been taken by Gojo. Beneath the photo is a small caption.

27 June 2008 - The Fushiguros after a day at the park

He flips to the next page. This one has an image of all three of them. One of Gojo’s arms sticks out to take the late aughts equivalent of a selfie while the other is wrapped around Megumi and Tsumiki’s shoulders. Megumi is slightly squished between the two as Tsumiki ruffles his hair. She’s smiling, he’s scowling, but they both look less malnourished. There’s even a natural kiddish flush to his cheeks. Gojo’s sporting his ridiculous sunglasses as he presses his cheek to Megumi’s. Tsumiki is wearing a pink ballet unitard with a fluffy tutu and Megumi and Gojo are both in suits.

14 September 2008 - Satoru, Megumi, and Tsumiki before Tsumiki’s first ballet recital

He skips to a random page a little more into the book. This one is just an image of Megumi in his school uniform, still with a characteristic scowl.

7 April 2009 - Megumi on the first day of second grade

He keeps turning the pages. Some sport printed digitals, other faded polaroids. A few pages have additional keepsakes taped onto them, like ticket stubs or restaurant receipts.

9 May 2009 - Satoru and Megumi’s boy’s night out

11 July 2010 - The Fushiguros on their first road trip

1 August 2010 - First day at the new house

30 March 2012 - Megumi’s first fight

25 December 2013 - Christmas at Satoru’s

3 January 2015 - Shoko and Tsumiki patching up Megumi

It goes on and on. He only gets the chance to scan a few of the pages before the tears make it hard to see. He doesn’t even notice that a few drops fell from his face and onto the scrapbook until his cheekbone is being gingerly wiped by Yuuji. His boyfriend is peering over his shoulder and takes over turning pages when Megumi’s hands stop moving.

“Aww, you guys were so cute! Tsumiki, can you send me scans of some of these?” He laughs, a deep, full sound that warms Megumi’s insides. “Especially this one, oh my god.” He points at a photo taken from below of Gojo holding a small Megumi aloft by his ankle. The older man laughs, eyes squeezed shut from the breadth of his smile, as Megumi thrashes and tries fruitlessly to free himself. From behind the camera Tsumiki’s hand reaches out to poke at Megumi’s stomach.

Megumi leans back into Yuuji’s solid frame as he tears his eyes from the scrapbook to look at his sister. She’s gone shy, curled even further into the cushions.

He might accidentally interrupt Yuuji when he speaks but the man doesn’t seem to care. “This is…” He can’t finish the thought. It’s a lot. It’s so much. It’s everything to him, to see how much she cares. Obviously he knows she cares about him, he knows all his loved ones care about him, but after the debacle that was the last few weeks it's just…it’s nice, to have it laid out so plainly.

The ache he’s been plagued by since the night of the engagement party, since the talk with Toji. It eases.

She smiles softly. “I know, don’t worry about it. I did all the work, this one,” she leans forward a bit and pokes Gojo’s head where he sits cross-legged on the floor in front of her seat, “just gave me the photos. Lazy bum wanted to mooch off my gift idea.”

Gojo wrinkles his nose and rubs where she poked him. His eyes are slightly red, rimmed with unshed tears. “Hey! The whole project would have been a bust if I didn’t give you the photos, so be grateful.” Tsumiki laughs and leans back with a more open posture. “Now open mine. I don’t want to get overshadowed by whatever your little boyfriend got you, the sap.”

Yuuji pouts and whispers his retort into Megumi’s shoulder. “Callin’ me a sap when you were just about to cry over pictures of your kids.” Megumi chuckles and grabs the first of Gojo’s two presents.

After opening it, he really isn’t sure what it is. “What is this?”

Gojo gasps and clutches his chest, apparently affronted at Megumi’s question. “What is it? I can’t believe you! That, my young padawan, is a miniature version of the inflatable tube guys that car dealerships always have posted up outside to attract customers.”

“Okay. Why did you give it to me?”

The older man gasps again, collapsing to the floor dramatically. “I can’t believe I’ve raised such an insolent boy! Doesn’t even have the decency to thank his wonderful, stunning, amazing guardian for giving him a thoughtful and useful gift!”

“How is this in any way thoughtful or useful?”

“Because I thought about it, and I think you could probably find some way to use it. Maybe put it on your desk?”

The rest of Gojo’s gifts go similarly (he’d initially only handed Megumi two but he pulls out three more from god knows wear and sneaks them onto the table when Megumi isn’t looking). They aren’t all gag gifts, some are things he actually needs, like a new pack of notebooks for next semester and a pair of over ear headphones to replace the one’s Megumi broke a few weeks ago. Megumi knows that Gojo probably has an entire haul of expensive gifts hidden away in another room which he will not-so-subtly try to hide in Megumi’s bag whenever he next visits or put in Megumi’s bedroom when he manages to sneak into his apartment while Megumi’s out. He can only hope there isn’t anything too egregious.

Finally, he moves on to Yuuji’s gifts. Yuuji is clearly getting antsy as he waits, knee bouncing and fingers drumming on Megumi’s hip.

Megumi opens the first one. It’s pretty small, fitting neatly into the palm of his hand. When he peels back the (atrocious) wrapping job, he finds a small glass bottle in a little box. He pulls the bottle out of the box to examine it. Before he can come to a conclusion about what it is, Yuuji’s blurting out the answer.

“It’s cuticle oil!”

“Cuticle oil?” Megumi repeats.

Yuuji nods, biting his lip nervously. “You know, because you’re always picking at your cuticles? I figured if they’re better moisturized they won’t bother you as much.”

Across the table Gojo snorts and Tsumiki lightly kicks the back of his head with a socked foot.

Megumi doesn’t care to scold them. He turns to face Yuuji and pecks his nose. “Thank you, Yuu. That’s very thoughtful.”

Yuuji blushes and turns his head into his shoulder while mumbling for Megumi to open the next one.

In total from Yuuji he gets the cuticle oil, a pack of what claim to be ‘indestructible’ dog toys, an oversized bag of ginger candies, and a new travel coffee mug that he’d been eyeing for a while but had yet to pull the trigger and buy.

He thinks back to when he’d first spotted the pile of presents in Yuuji’s closet. Then, he’d thought Yuuji was a little insane for buying all that shit for someone he’s only met a few months prior, but, looking at the gifts in front of him now, he can’t help but grin. Yuuji does not have endless money with which to buy expensive gifts like headphones and limited edition signed novels, but this pile of random things that he’d clearly picked up along the way…

Megumi remembers mentioning he likes ginger maybe one time before Yuuji started carrying ginger candies around with him and acting like it was no big deal. He remembers picking at his nails while they argued, or frowning over yet another ruined stuffed animal found in Shiro’s bed, or whining when he dropped his old travel mug in the library and the lid shattered. He hadn’t realized Yuuji noticed those things too. He knows Yuuji is observant, perceptive to a fault, sometimes, but now he feels truly ridiculous that he’d been so scared of that stupid pile of gifts in the first place. Of course Yuuji was thinking of him. Of course he’d easily picked up random things he thought Megumi might like, just because. It wasn’t any sort of attempt at entrapment or possession. He was just always thinking of Megumi, in some way shape or form.

New tears well up as he throws himself at Yuuji and wraps his arms tightly around broad shoulders. Yuuji grunts at the added weight but gathers him up in stride, pressing his smile into Megumi’s hair.

“This is a pile of junk,” Gojo whisper-yells to Tsumiki. “Why is he getting all weepy over it?”

Megumi ignores the quip and buries himself further into Yuuji’s embrace before pulling back and laying a sloppy wet kiss on his lips. Gojo gags and Tsumiki, again, kicks him in the back of the head. Not that Megumi can see, he’s too wrapped up in his wonderful, handsome, thoughtful boyfriend to notice, but he giggles into the kiss anyway. He just feels such unbridled happiness right now, surrounded by most of his favorite people (even if he’ll never admit to Gojo that he counts as one of them).

Maybe this ‘meeting the family’ thing isn’t so bad, after all.