#honestly would be zero percent surprised if my other best friend from middle school was transmasc as well but she went the other direction

[somekindafairy]

thinking about the fact that me and my best friend from childhood and early adolescent started t within a year of each other despite at that point living on opposite sides of the country and not having talked in at least 5 years. (now close to a decade maybe longer)

[ridiasfangirlings]

Fushimi with a migraine but pos rok, so he's living with misaki already...

I haven’t ficced an ask in forever but this suddenly gave me muse so here you go:

“Saruhiko? Hey, are you here?”

Yata let the door slam behind himas he stepped into the apartment. It was quiet, which wasn’t exactlya surprise – Saruhiko wasn’t the loudest of roommates even at thebest of times, and it had become routine for Yata to walk in after ashift at his part time job to find Fushimi sitting on the couchtyping away at his laptop without even so much as acknowledgingYata’s arrival. Yata had almost gotten used to it already, the soundof Fushimi’s fingers on the keyboard, the steady tap-tap-tap of hiswriting.

Even that sound wasn’t presentthis time though, and as he turned on the light Yata wondered ifFushimi was still at work, or if he’d gone out on some kind of errandwithout leaving a note (because they didn’t leave each other notes,not now, they didn’t check in with mail apps and texts, because thiswasn’t middle school anymore and they were still feeling their wayback to a place where such things would be necessary).

He and Fushimi had only beenroommates again for a few weeks now, and it seemed like they werestill getting used to each other, feeling their way back to howthings had been before. At first it had simply been a matter ofconvenience – Fushimi was still injured then, recovering from theleg wound he sustained down in jungle’s hideout, and Scepter 4 hadbeen swamped with dealing with the fallout from the destruction ofthe Dresden Slate and the mess left behind by the Greens. As such ithad been difficult for them to spare someone to help Fushimi with hisrecovery, and of course Saruhiko, as always, was too stubborn toadmit that he might not be able to handle himself on his own untilhis leg healed.

Yata had offered his own placealmost without thinking, an automatic reaction when he heard thatsomeone needed to watch Fushimi and make sure he stayed off his feetand didn’t overwork himself into a blood infection. At first Yata hadthought it would be easy – they were friends now, right, they’dmade up and talked and fought a little and maybe there had been somecrying but it was done, it was fixed, and things were just like oldtimes.

Except they weren’t, not really.There was still an awkwardness hanging in the air between them, yearsand experiences that had grown and changed them both beyond the kidsthey’d once been, and sometimes to Yata it felt more like startingfrom the beginning than picking up where they’d left off. He’d beenexcited at the thought of living with Fushimi again but there weredays now when he found himself feeling as if this was just a strangerin Saruhiko’s skin, someone who he didn’t know at all and never had,and it made him feel as if he was fumbling towards something that haddisappeared long ago and wouldn’t ever come back.

“Hey, Saruhiko!” Yata shookhis head, trying to get rid of the cold feeling that had settled overhis skin as he set his skateboard against the wall and stepped intothe small living room.

“…up.” The sound was soquiet Yata almost didn’t hear it and he turned towards it, eyes wideas he recognized the form of Fushimi crumpled against the couchcushions, head buried in a pillow.

“Saruhiko!” Yata was by hisside in a flash, shaking his shoulders and trying to get him turn hishead, worry spiking through Yata’s body in a way that reminded him ofhow he’d felt that day seeing Saruhiko about to be killed by GojouSukuna. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did someone attack you?Hey, answer me, monkey!”

Fushimi made a small sound, halfa grunt and half a groan as he weakly tried to wave Yata away whilenot lifting his head from the pillow. Yata remained relentlessthough, hands on his shoulders and trying to see if there was anysign of blood or broken bones. What he could see of Saruhiko’s facelooked pale in the light and his glasses had been abandoned on thetable by the couch. Without them he looked somehow younger, his hairmessier than normal and his eyes slightly glassy in a way that madeYata’s insides clench.

“Come on, talk to me, monkey!Should I call an ambulance? Saruhiko!”

“….Shut up.” Fushimiwrenched his arm out of Yata’s grip, resting it against his foreheadwith another soft grunt, obvious pain mixed in with irritation.“You’re noisy, Misaki.”

“I’ll be quiet when you tell mewhat’s wrong.” Yata stood his ground, brushing some hair fromFushimi’s eyes. Fushimi winced slightly, turning his head away again,and Yata found himself wondering how likely it would be that Fushimiwould manage to stab him in this condition if Yata decided to justpick Fushimi up bodily and carry him to a hospital.

“It’s just a migraine, idiot.”Fushimi mumbled the words into his arm, eyes half-closed. “I getthem all the time. You don’t need to make a fuss about it.”

“Migraine…?” Yata let theword sink in, then put a hand on his hip. “I thought I told you notto stay up forever working, I bet you got a headache from staring atthat stupid computer screen all night!”

“Tch. You’re a doctor now,Misaki?” Fushimi snorted and then winced, both hands going to theside of his head, and immediately Yata felt himself softening.

“H-hey, don’t overdo it, okay?Should I get you some medicine?” Yata leaned over him again,feeling somehow useless.

“I already took a pill when Ifelt it coming on,” Fushimi said. “I’m not stupid, Misaki.”

“Don’t get shitty with me,Saruhiko, I’m worried about you, you know?”

“Tch. I didn’t ask you to dothat either.” The words were sharp as always but the tone was not –not the lilting taunt that Fushimi normally used but the soft hushedtone that he had when he was thinking too hard or trying to avoidtalking about things, and Yata couldn’t help but smile softly at thefamiliarity of it.

“You think you can eatanything? I’ll make you some porridge, all right?”

“Do whatever you want.” Softand sulky, and Yata shook his head as he went to grab a blanket fromhis room. He was barely out the doorway when he heard Fushimi’s voiceagain, calling his name.

“Misaki.”

“Eh?” Yata half-ran back intothe room, hands perched on the arm of the couch just above Fushimi’shead. “What is it Saruhiko, do you need something? If you feel likethrowing up call me and I’ll help to the bathroom, all right?”

“That’s not why I was callingyou, idiot.” Fushimi shifted. “Turn off the light, it makes thepounding worse.”

“A-ah, right, sorry.” Yatacouldn’t help but feel a small stab of guilt that he’d turned it onin the first place, even though he’d had no idea about Fushimi’smigraine when he’d walked in. He half-vaulted over the edge of thecouch and hurriedly flipped the light switch off. “Is that better?”

“Keep your voice down.”Fushimi’s hands were still pressed against his head but the way hewas curled up on the couch seemed to have relaxed slightly and Yatafigured that was a good sign at least.

“Right, right, sorry.” Yatawhispered the words as he went to grab the blanket again. He wasdragging it back into the living room when Fushimi’s soft voicecalling him again.

“Misaki.”

“Yeah?” Yata carefully laidthe blanket over Fushimi, whose face wrinkled in annoyance even as hepulled the blanket closer.

“I’m thirsty.”

“What do you want? You’re notgetting coffee when you have a migraine so don’t ask.”

“Something carbonated. Zeropercent fruit.”

“What the hell Saruhiko, I’mnot giving you unhealthy shit when you have a migraine! I’ll make yousome tea, okay? My mom always said that works good for headaches.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue softlybut didn’t argue, pulling the blanket over his head. Yata started tohead towards the kitchen then paused, quietly moving against thedoorway as he waited.

“Misaki.”

“I’m right here.” And Yatawas, back against the arm of the couch and a fond smile hovering onhis lips. Honestly, what had he been thinking all this time? Itreally was Saruhiko, different but still the same as always, righthere in front of him where he’d always been. “You don’t have tokeep calling, monkey. I told you, right? I’ll hear you wherever I am.Even if you’re underground.”

“…Ice cream.” Fushimimumbled out the words, half a pout, lips pressed together andavoiding Yata’s eyes. Not honest about a single thing, even aftereverything.

“Not with a migraine.” Yatasaid firmly. “I’ll get you porridge and tea, okay? So just rest.”

There was a soft tongue click butFushimi didn’t argue, and Yata turned to go back into the kitchen.

“Misaki.”

“Saruhiko, I just said–”

“….Thank you.” It was soquiet Yata almost didn’t hear it, hesitant and fumbling as if Fushimiwasn’t even certain that he was saying the words right, and Yatacould feel something warm blossoming in his chest, a hand reachingout to run through Fushimi’s bangs.

“I’ll be right back.” Yatacould feel it somehow, the way the atmosphere in the room hadrelaxed, those walls around Fushimi that sometimes felt so solid Yatacould almost touch them disappearing for just a moment between them,the feel of Fushimi’s full trust settling along his shoulders like ablanket. “Rest, all right?”

Fushimi nodded sleepily, notlooking at Yata, and there was definitely a bit of color in hischeeks that hadn’t been there before. Yata touched his shoulder onemore time, as if to remind himself that this really was stillSaruhiko, the new Saruhiko who wasn’t all that different from the oldSaruhiko in all the ways that mattered most, and then turned andheaded back into the kitchen to make him something to eat.

Pineapples in the porridgetoo, and Yata smiled.