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not-orphaned-account · 8 months ago

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You, Only You - Chapter 4

Just a soft afternoon.

(Chapter below the cut!)

Among all of the secrets of the universe, there are a few objective, well known facts.

The earth is round. The sky is blue. And Nanami Kento and Haibara Yu are completely, disgustingly in love with each other.

“It’s like watching two blind dogs trying to sniff each other’s butts,” Satoru complains around the straw in his mouth, eyes fixed on the embarrassing display happening across the courtyard. The two fourth years are chatting, Haibara having stopped Nanami to apparently ask him something inaudible from where the three of them sit, only for them to end up talking animatedly (or at least, as animatedly as Nanami gets) for several minutes longer. It would be humourous if it wasn’t so goddamn frustrating, watching the two of them interact like they’re in their own little world. Haibara is practically glowing, laughing as though Nanami was capable of saying anything remotely funny ever—and god, the way Nanami is looking at him, Satoru can practically see the hearts in his eyes from the other side of the grounds.

“Satoru, gross,” Suguru reprimands, though he’s clearly just as transfixed on the action as he is, nearly missing his food with his chopsticks as he watches in fascinated horror.

“What?” Satoru demands, taking a drag of his juice and smacking his lips before continuing. “Like, okay, one could argue that Haibara’s always…like that. But Nanami came out of the womb with a stoneface, how does he not notice the way he looks at him?”

“I don’t know if Nanami knows,” Suguru says, chewing thoughtfully. “Like, do you think he has any idea what a crush even feels like?”

“Oh, it’s way past a crush at this point, are you kidding? They’ve been googly-eyed over each other since first year.”

“You couldn’t even keep their names straight when they were first years, how would you know?”

Satoru grins at him around his straw.

“Trust me, I have a seventh sense for that sort of thing.”

Whatever Suguru may have been about to say is cut off by a violent choking sound from beside him. They both whip their heads around in alarm to see Shoko pounding herself on the chest.

“Jesus!” Satoru says, while Suguru thumps her on the back until she coughs up a soggy piece of bread. “Swallow or spit, don't inhale.”

Her eyes are watering and her nose is red, but she still glares at him like he’s the one responsible.

“I freaking hate you,” she gurgles, before turning to fix Suguru with the same look. “Both of you.”

Suguru blinks, holding the water bottle he’d been about to offer her in midair.

“What did I do?”

She just shakes her head, snatching the bottle and downing a few deep gulps before shoving it back towards him.

“I’ve got work to do,” she announces, standing and crumpling her trash. “You guys just…you…”

After failing to find whatever words she was flailing for, she shakes her head, gives both of them a long, disappointed look, and then walks away, still clearing her throat.

Satoru stares after her for a second before turning back to Suguru.

“What was that about?”

Suguru looks just as baffled.

“No idea.”

Choosing not to dwell on it, Satoru shrugs, leans over, and snags the last piece of broccoli from the tupperware container Suguru has been eating out of, popping it into his mouth.

“Bleh,” he says, sticking out his tongue. “Nasty.”

Suguru just gives him a blank look.

“It wasn’t for you.”

“Too bad. Come on, let’s go back.”

Suguru’s room is a den of boxes, belongings carefully sorted and fit away into little cardboard homes. It's been taking a while, longer than it took Shoko, though that's probably because all she had to do was move to the staff building, as she continued her work as a medic and coroner right after graduating. On the other hand, Satoru and Suguru have both yet to move out of their student dorms; not for lack of trying, of course. It's hard deciding where to live when the choices are a) alone forever in a city full of non-sorcerers, or b) admittedly cheap housing provided by the school, convenient but isolating.

None of that matters right now, though, because Satoru has ten lives left and the Goombas are on his ass.

“Damn it!” he groans when he dies again, pausing his game and splaying his arms out over the bed. “This is too hard.”

Suguru doesn’t even look up—or, down—from the book he’s holding above his head, presumably reading. His free hand doesn’t stop slowly carding through Satoru’s hair, even as he harrumphs and pushes his head back farther into Suguru’s stomach in an attempt to get his attention.

“It’s a game for children,” he says eventually, bringing his hand away from Satoru’s hair briefly to turn the page. Satoru huffs and digs his head into his stomach until he grunts and tugs at his bangs in protest.

“I’m too smart for it,” he decides, picking up his DS again and unpausing the game.

“I’m sure that’s it,” Suguru says, voice full of thinly veiled amusement.

He dies three more times before pausing again with a groan.

“Stupid. It’s a stupid game and I hate it.”

He flips his glasses up and looks pointedly up at Suguru with a frown. Suguru doesn’t acknowledge him for a long few seconds, and finally he huffs and pokes the spine of the book.

“Suguru.”

The corner of Suguru’s mouth twitches, but other than that, he doesn’t respond. Satoru narrows his eyes and pokes the book again.

“Hey. Suguru.”

He turns the page again, eyes briefly flicking down to Satoru before returning to his book.

“What is it, Satoru?”

Another poke yields no further results, and finally, Satoru grabs the book and tosses it to the end of the bed. Suguru’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance as it flops shut, losing his page, and he tugs threateningly at Satoru’s hair.

“What is it, Satoru?”

Satoru blinks up at him innocently, waiting. Suguru just stares at him for a few seconds before rolling his eyes, but there’s a smile starting to pull at his lips.

He sits up, sending Satoru’s head sliding down into his lap, and leans down until the loose strands of his bangs are tickling his face. Satoru blinks slowly up at him, lips curling up, and Suguru shakes his head slightly before leaning down and closing the gap between them.

They haven’t really talked about it, nor does Satoru see a need for them to. Kissing Suguru feels nice, and it’s not like he’s got anyone else to kiss, so why shouldn’t they exchange a little friendly peck here and there? His lips are soft, a little chapped from biting, but they seem to get softer every time it happens, and Satoru finds himself wondering if Suguru is starting to wear chapstick or something. It doesn’t really matter, but the thought whirls around with the million others in his head at all times, and by the time Suguru pulls back he realizes he’s missed the whole thing.

He pouts, dejected. Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“Zoned out?”

“Again,” Satoru demands, sitting up and pointing to his mouth. “That one didn’t count.”

Suguru snorts, but he obliges Satoru’s grabby hands and leans closer, pressing their lips together again. The angle is better, and Satoru has no problems with overthinking this time, because the soft press of Suguru’s lips against his wipes all thoughts from his mind. He’s not sure if kissing his best friend should feel so good, but then he remembers that it’s Suguru, and yeah, that makes sense; Suguru makes everything the best version of itself.

Including him.

He doesn’t realize he’s running out of air until Suguru pulls away, and he suddenly remembers to breathe. Suguru laughs quietly, and he pouts at him.

“Put that lip back,” Suguru reprimands, flicking his lower lip; Satoru yelps and covers his mouth, glaring.

“Rude.”

Instead of answering, Suguru takes the opportunity to pull him closer, maneuvering him until he’s sitting at his side, legs draped over Suguru’s lap. This position puts their faces closer, and Satoru can’t help but trace every detail with his eyes; he can tell by the slight shifting of Suguru’s eyes that he’s doing the same.

“I never want to be without you,” he murmurs, almost before he even realizes he was thinking it. Suguru blinks, and he feels his face start to burn, fighting the urge to slap his hands over his mouth.

It’s true, of course, but it’s not the sort of thing he’d usually say. It’s just that here, in Suguru’s sun-warmed dorm with their chests brushing and their faces close enough for Satoru to see every fleck of colour in his irises, the feeling that’s sat in his chest since they were kids sort of…erupted out of him.

Suguru already knows. Satoru knows he does, and he knows he feels the same way. It’s just one thing to know it in his soul, and another to say it out loud.

He yelps as Suguru suddenly ruffles his hair, sending it into his eyes. He snorts, then laughs when Satoru glares at him through his bangs, nose crinkling and eyes curving into crescent moons, and after a few moments, Satoru feels his lips slowly pull up into a grin.

“Rude,” he says again, poking at Suguru’s sides until he tries to bat him away, squirming and laughing. He retaliates by diving in to tickle Satoru’s stomach, making him scream and kick.

They’re acting like children, idiots at the very least. But when Suguru wraps his arms tightly around him to hold his arms against his sides, restraining him as he tries to tickle him back, taunting him in that low, sarcastic way he does…Satoru really can’t bring himself to care.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk #jjk fanfiction #satosugu #satosugu fanfiction #gojo/geto #geto/gojo #gojo satoru #geto suguru #you only you #new chapter

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not-orphaned-account · 1 year ago

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You, Only You - Chapter 1

I've been writing this mostly for myself, as a sort of fluff bandaid as I work on Lean On Me. I decided I wanted to share it, but as it's just sort of plotless (for the most part) and more of a comfort thing with no set goal, it's going to be a tumblr-only fic. I hope you enjoy :]

It’s late when Satoru returns, so late that the lamps lining the stairs are illuminated and flickering as he slowly makes his way up. Not for the first time, he swears to himself that he’s going to master his long-distance teleportation before his next mission, so he doesn’t have to climb ten thousand million stairs when he returns with his cursed energy depleted and his body sore from the fight. The assistant supervisor walks a few steps behind him, more winded than he is despite not having been involved in any of the action, and they part ways at the top with a nod and exhausted goodnights. The assistant supervisor heads towards the staff dormitories, while Satoru crosses the courtyard to the student dorms, pace quickening and steps lightening the closer he gets despite his exhaustion.

He walks right past his own room, not even bothering to stop in for a change of clothes, making a beeline for the neighbouring door. It’s closed by not locked, and Satoru doesn’t bother knocking as he cracks it open and slips inside.

The lump in the blankets betrays Suguru’s whereabouts, and he sighs softly. Back when they started getting sent on solo missions, just over two years ago now, they’d wait for each other at the top of the staircase, sometimes with Shoko, for their long established post-mission hug; a sacred tradition from all the way back on their first mission, when they were overwhelmed with adrenaline and on top of the world, and the first thing they thought to do was wrap their arms around each other. After the Star Plasma Vessel, those feelings shifted; they were no longer invincible, and their victories were no longer assured. Their triumphant celebrations turned to something more like reassurance: Any broken bones? Did you eat okay? Whose blood is that?

They still wait for each other, but sometimes, things are different. Sometimes, they’ll be sent out on different missions at the same time, and Suguru will return to an empty staircase while Satoru urges the assistant supervisor to drive faster. Sometimes, one of them will be downstairs with Shoko, getting wounds treated while biting their tongue to keep from pushing her to hurry, they have somewhere to be.

Sometimes, it’s one of these days.

Satoru pulls off his jacket and tosses it to the floor, followed by his shoes, socks, and pants, until he’s kneeling on the edge of the mattress in just his boxers and his sweaty shirt.

Suguru is asleep, hands folded into loose fists on the pillow and hair messy from either sleep or the day he’s had. He looks peaceful like this, the usual weight on his shoulders and in his eyes absent for a time. Satoru almost doesn’t want to disturb him, but he knows that if Suguru found out that he’d come home without waking him up, he’d kill him for sure.

Unable to resist, he reaches out, hand blindingly pale in the dark room, and gently brushes a lock of hair behind Suguru’s ear. His hand lingers, tingling slightly at the sleep-warm skin under his fingertips, hesitating in limbo.

Suguru’s eyes flutter open as if called, and he immediately locks eyes with Satoru. He makes a soft sound and shifts under his blankets, like he’s trying to reach out but isn’t quite awake enough to move.

Satoru meets him in the middle, pulling the blankets back and laying down beside him. They’re close like this, two grown men in a tiny student dorm bed, face to face—well. Face to fabric.

As though reading his mind, Suguru finally moves, lifting a hand slowly as if through molasses and fog. Satoru feels his fingers catch at the edge of his blindfold, gently dragging it up and over his head until the piece of fabric is dangling from his fingers, and their eyes are finally meeting with no barrier.

It’s another tradition. As his powers grew and six eyes became stronger, his glasses started to not be enough. He still wears them sometimes, on calmer days hanging around the school, but on missions now he always wears a blindfold to protect his eyes, growing more sensitive by the day. Suguru removing it for him is like a cleansing, something like turning infinity off; the last person Satoru trusts with the most vulnerable and valuable part of him, unwrapping him and leaving him bare.

Speaking of…

He lets out a long breath as infinity deactivates, eyelids immediately drooping as the tension he’s bee carrying for the last week breaks and leaves him heavy and sluggish. It’s an unpleasant feeling, everything suddenly touching him at once; but he can’t bring himself to feel anything but elated as Suguru’s eyes soften and he seems to relax as well, tilting his face forward a bare inch until their foreheads are touching, no blindfold, no infinity, no spaces between: just Satoru and Suguru, how it’s been since they were kids.

He allows himself a few moments to revel in the warmth and comfort under Suguru’s sheets. Suguru watches him, eyes flitting over his face, and a smile curls at his lips when he realizes what he’s looking for.

“I’m fine,” he whispers; he sees the hint of his breath move Suguru’s bangs slightly. “Just some bumps and scrapes. I probably won’t even need Shoko.”

Suguru doesn’t answer, but he feels him relax further. His smile softens, and he finally allows himself to cup his face, running his thumb over his cheekbone.

This is it; this is what makes it worth keeping up their tradition. Suguru’s skin is warm and soft in his hands, and his breath is even and his eyes glimmer in the darkness, and Satoru can’t help but touch, can’t help but stare, can’t help but memorize everything about the man in front of him and tuck it away in the little corner of his brain that Suguru has unknowingly reserved for himself. Their post-mission hugs have evolved over the years, as the missions themselves have grown more dangerous and every day more precious. As Satoru grew more and more unattainable, infinity strengthening and power reaching monumental levels, Suguru too changed, retreating into himself and his mind. Satoru gained a shield; Suguru, a shell.

Days like these are less common than they were in the time following Riko’s death, but they still happen; days where Suguru is all but unable to get out of bed, when his thoughts are too loud and make his body heavy and his heart heavier. On these days, when he doesn’t meet Satoru at the top of the stairs, when his eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot, the touching is no longer for Satoru.

He runs a hand through Suguru’s hair, mumbling an apology when he catches on a stray knot and makes him jerk. He trails his fingertips gently along the soft skin under Suguru’s eye, runs his hand over his shoulder and down his arm before wrapping his arm around Suguru’s waist and pulling him close. He doesn’t need any more prompting that that to curl into him, burying his face in the junction between Satoru’s neck and shoulder and letting out a long, slightly shaky breath.

They lay like that for a while: Satoru rubbing slow circles into his lower back, Suguru simply being, breathing against him. In times like this, quiet nights with Suguru in his arms, he truly can’t imagine being any more at peace than he is in this moment.

“How are the girls?” he asks after a while. It’s a bit of a code for them; if Suguru doesn’t feel like talking, he’ll give a generic affirmation, and they’ll just hold each other in silence. If he’s up for conversation, though, talking about the twins always opens a sort of door, inviting him to tell Satoru about everything they’ve been up to, from the moment he left for his mission until Suguru tucked them into bed that night.

He feels Suguru’s lips pull up in a small smile, and he grins into the darkness, his heart swelling.

“Nanako learned how to write her name,” he says. “I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s everywhere: scrap paper, the blackboards, outside. After she wrote it on one of the classroom walls, Yaga dug up some sidewalk chalk from somewhere, and she’s been absolutely obsessed with it.”

Satoru laughs softly, delighted at the mental image.

“I didn’t see,” he says, tracing the bumps of Suguru’s spine with his fingertips. “You’ll have to show me tomorrow.”

“Oh, you’ll see it,” Suguru laughs. “Trust me, as soon as you go outside in the sunlight, it’ll be the first thing you noticed. Mimiko tried to copy her, but she couldn’t get the hang of it and just started drawing. There’s chalk on every conceivable surface.”

Satoru hums. His fingers brush the ends of Suguru’s hair, and he lets himself play with it for a moment, loosely twirling the strands around his fingers.

“They ran into Nanami and Haibara on their way to physical therapy,” Suguru says, voice quieter now, and Satoru pauses. “By the time he was done, they’d covered every inch of pavement outside of the clinic with chalk. You’ll have to get Mimiko to show you tomorrow, she’s very proud of her rainbows.”

The pieces click together in his head, and he holds Suguru a little tighter. The bad days don’t always have a concrete cause or trigger, but when they do…

“How is he doing?” he asks. Suguru chuckles a little, though it sounds strained.

“The same as always. I was outside with the girls the whole time, but he was just as cheerful when he came out as he was when he went in. He let Nanako help push his wheelchair back to the dorms.”

“That’s our Haibara,” Satoru says with a small smile. He adjusts his hold on Suguru, sliding his arm around his shoulder and wrapping a hand gently around the back of his neck, just holding him.

“He’s really good with them,” Suguru murmurs, melting into the touch. “And they absolutely love him. He’ll be a great teacher.”

Satoru hums, rubbing slow circles with his thumb into the edge of Suguru’s hairline. It’s true; though, he does suspect that it has something to do with how much he spoils the kids.

“Oh,” Suguru says, as though he’s read his mind, “Yaga wants to know if Megumi and Tsumiki are coming back here for their school break.”

“Huh? Is that already?”

He can practically feel Suguru rolling his eyes.

“Yes, Satoru. Next week, remember?”

Oh shit. Right. Satoru coughs a little.

“Of course I remember. I was just testing you.”

“Right,” Suguru says, in what seems like the most sarcastic tone of voice he can physically muster. “Have you talked to them about it at all? Or the school, for that matter?”

“Calm down, it’ll be fine,” he says, and Suguru huffs. “Megumi probably doesn’t want to, but I’m sure Tsumiki will, and it’s not like he’s going to stay at the school without her. I’ll just go get them on the weekend.”

“Why don’t I come with?” Suguru asks, slipping his arm over Satoru’s waist and hooking his chin on his shoulder. “We can bring the girls, make a day of it. It would be good for them to get out and see the city, I think.”

The twins’ conditions have improved greatly over the last two years, but it’s still better for them to stay on the campus instead of the boarding school Megumi and Tsumiki attend. Still, they’re able to go on small outings now, as long as Suguru is there and they have lots of opportunities to rest away from crowds.

“Sounds fun,” he says. “Maybe we should ask some of the others if they want to tag along?”

“Megumi might like it if Shoko or Nanami came with.”

“But if Shoko comes, then Utahime’s gonna want to come too.”

“I mean…”

They continue to talk, voices soft in each other’s ears and hands wandering, calming, holding. The exhaustion of the mission weighs him down, but his heart feels light as Suguru tells him little stories from the week they were apart, catching him up on everything that made him smile. Finally, his voice quiets and his breathing evens out, puffing warmly against Satoru’s neck as he goes lax in his arms. It’s only then that Satoru allows his own eyes to close, letting himself hug Suguru closer to his chest like an overgrown teddy bear. He still feels a bit gross in his dirty shirt, but as Suguru mumbles in his sleep and loosely clutches it in his fingers, he can’t bring himself to mind all that much as his thoughts finally begin to slow, and sleep takes him under.

#satosugu #gojo/geto #geto suguru #gojo satoru #you only you #new fic

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