Chapter Text
The first sign that something is a bit off is the fact that Satoru opens his eyes and sees that he's inside the infirmary. It's not like he hasn't been there a few times before, he's had his fair share of cuts and bruises he's needed healed before he learned how to use rct, but he's never woken up there. It's weird. A bit unsettling, actually, because he can't remember why or how he got there — he can't even remember when it happened, or what day it's supposed to be.
“Oh, wow. You look like a twig!” an unfamiliar voice exclaims, and Satoru immediately starts, shoving himself up into a sitting position while he directs a glare towards the woman— no, girl that had spoken.
She has short, light brown hair, and slender hands with neatly painted fingernails resting on her hips as she watches Satoru with an expression that somehow manages to be taunting, challenging and intrigued at the same time. The wide grin on her face kinda irks him a bit.
“Who are you?” he snaps. “Where's Shoko?”
“Shoko-sensei went out for a smoke,” the girl replies leisurely. Shoko-sensei? “She got tired of watching your sleepy ass. I got bored watching you, too, but now you're finally awake!” The girl tilts her head curiously. “Why do you look like that, though?”
Satoru narrows his eyes, annoyed at her tone and that exaggerated cockiness she’s sporting. “Like what.”
She shrugs, moving closer while dragging her gaze over him, inspecting him closely. “I dunno. You're just lankier than I expected. You look angrier, too. Like one of the feral cats from back in my village.”
Pushing himself off the bed, Satoru throws a glance down at himself — nah, he still looks the same as usual. He's in his dark navy uniform, the legs narrow and slender, the jacket clean and with the button neatly in place. Guess that means the girl's just being rude as fuck, then.
“Ehh?” He frowns at her, nose wrinkling underneath his dark shades as he slips his hands into his pockets. “The hell? Do I even know you?”
The girl's brown eyes sparkle with some sort of glee. “Oh, you don't even remember. Brilliant! It's been too dull around here lately.”
“What?” His mouth tilts down at the corners as Satoru continues staring at her. He's never seen this girl before in his life, and yet there's something oddly familiar about her, his Six Eyes giving him these mixed signals that he for once doesn't know how to interpret. It’s confusing and unsettling, and it kinda sours his mood. “You make no sense. Where's Suguru?”
“Oh, Geto-sensei is on his way. He was on a mission when he heard, but he'll be here pretty soon.”
“Why do you keep calling them sensei?” Satoru grits out, shooting another nasty look towards the girl over the rim of his glasses. “If it’s some sort of joke then it’s a crappy one.”
Not bothered in the slightest, the girl pokes her tongue out at him. “They’d probably get annoyed if I didn't. You're the only one who's chill about that stuff.”
“What?” Satoru's about to question her further, but then a boy enters the infirmary, all messy, dark hair and a straight back and an attitude that already reveals that he's halfway done with them.
“Oh, great,” Satoru drawls sarcastically. “Another delinquent to keep me company.”
The boy stops, blinking at him for a moment with long, long lashes before those sleek, dark brows furrow into something vexed. “Gojo-sen–”
“Nope,” Satoru snaps, marching over to the boy and glaring at him over his glasses. His Six Eyes are yelling at him that there's something familiar about this boy as well, but Satoru has never seen him before and has no idea why his senses are acting up, and it pisses him the fuck off. “No fucking way. You're not gonna call me sensei, are you?” His lips twist in annoyance. “What the hell is up with all of you? Have you escaped from some mental hospital close-by or something? Some charity cases that Suguru has picked up? It'd be like him to do something like that.”
The boy stares at him, then sighs heavily and looks over at the girl. “Has he been like this the entire time?”
“He's only been up for like five minutes,” the girl says, cleaning her cuticle with— with a fucking steel nail? What the hell?
Satoru would've considered asking her if she works in construction for a moment, just to make fun of her, but he's not fucking dumb. Both of them have enough cursed energy to make it clear that they're sorcerers, definitely in a league way below his though still capable, so her nail probably belongs to whatever strange cursed technique she's got going for her. It's just odd. Both of them are odd. Why are they calling him — him — sensei? He hates dealing with brats, and these two are perfect examples of some.
“I see.” The boy exchanges this look with the girl, before he glances back at Satoru. It seems like he's trying to stay calm, grounding himself by setting his shoulders and wiping that frown off his face. The perfect goody-good act. “What do you remember?”
“What do I remember?” Satoru parrots, exhaling in exasperation as he holds the boy's stare. Why are those emerald eyes so fucking familiar. “What a great question, just super specific. Do you do the same thing when you go on missions? Ask the victims 'oh what do you remember, what happened' without even making it clear what you want to know?”
The boy is glaring at him now, green eyes aggravated and fierce.
“My bad,” he says coldly. “I must have overestimated you by thinking that you'd figure it out by yourself. I should have dumbed it down for you.”
“Eh!” Satoru's hands curl into fists as he steps closer to the dark-haired boy, seething as he stares down at him. He's at least quite a bit taller than him, towering over him to some degree. It makes it more enjoyable as he holds back the urge to spit out another insult. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”
The boy doesn't move an inch, holding his ground firmly. “Seems like I expected too much by assuming you'd understand that, too.”
Satoru's jaw clenches. The audacity of this fucking brat. Someone must've done a poor ass job raising him if he goes around treating people like this.
“Awfully cocky for someone who's barely a third grade,” Satoru sneers then.
“Second, actually.” The girl's tone is amused as she glances over at them, now perched on top of the bed where Satoru had been resting. “And Fushiguro will probably reach first pretty soon.” She grins confidently and motions towards herself with a thumb. “I'll definitely reach it first, though!”
Hearing the boy's name also sends a jolt of something familiar through Satoru's body, but he pushes down on it. No way he wants to be acquainted with someone with such a shitty attitude.
“If you wanna reach first grade then you gotta bribe someone to get there,” Satoru scoffs, shooting her another look. Cocky sorcerers like that usually get themselves killed by being overly confident, stepping up to curses that are way past their level without second-guessing themselves at all and then getting their ass kicked. Of course, that would never be the case for him or Suguru — you're allowed to be a little cocky when you're actually that strong. The strongest, in fact.
“Yeah, yeah,” the girl waves a hand casually. “You already said that we'll get Mei-san on our side.”
“Mei Mei?” Satoru's brows tuck together. “You know her, too?”
The boy — ah, Fushiguro — nods. “She joins us for missions sometimes.”
“Not too often, though,” the girl adds, kicking her legs back and forth while watching them. “You don't like having her around us too much.”
“Do I have to remind you,” Satoru bites out, “that I have never seen you before in my life.”
Rolling his eyes, Fushiguro walks over to the girl and lowers his voice before murmuring to her, “Is Geto-sensei far away? I don't wanna deal with him when he's like this.”
“I can still fucking hear you!” Satoru snaps, taking a step towards them before he throws his arms out in annoyance. “Who the fuck are you guys? What's going on? Where’s Suguru and Shoko?”
“It's complicated—” Fushiguro starts.
“It fucking isn’t!" Satoru's done with the lack of information, done with the confusion, done with being somewhere so familiar yet noticing all these new energies and scents and people. “What's the fucking deal? Did I lose my memory or something?”
“Something like that,” a familiar voice — finally, a voice he fucking knows — says. “It's more complicated than that, though.”
Looking over his shoulder, Satoru sees Shoko entering through the door, looking quite a bit older than the last time he saw her. Her dark hair is longer, her skin a bit paler, and the circles underneath her eyes have somehow managed to grow even darker.
But then he sees another person right behind her, tall and broad and the first person Satoru had thought of when he opened his eyes earlier, the cursed energy strong and blending and so achingly familiar, because it’s—
“S-Suguru,” he says, stammering like a fucking child because– because Suguru is... He's– he looks all—
“Satoru,” Suguru greets, his voice a tad darker than it was during his teenage years, yet still soft and smooth and perfectly capable of making Satoru's stomach do this weird twist. He walks towards him, all big shoulders and broad frame and long hair — long, it's so fucking long, how did it get so long — and a defined jaw, and a soft, pretty smile, and those familiar, honeyed eyes that Satoru likes looking into whenever they talk, which is pretty much all the time every single day, and—
“You…” Satoru feels his mouth go dry, especially when Suguru pauses right next to him and is suddenly a few centimetres taller than Satoru, smiling down at him before cupping his cheek with a palm, and Satoru fucking burns. “What—”
“Are you okay?” Suguru murmurs gently, and Satoru's skin feels like it's on fire. It must be on fire. He's so fucking warm.
How can Suguru be so– how can he touch him so casually? Hah? Since when did they– did they do things like this!?
“Y-yeah,” he mumbles, struggling to figure out whether the heat spreading across his face is because Suguru is touching him, or because he’s fucking stuttered twice in half a minute, or because the relief at finally seeing someone he knows again hits a lot harder than he expected. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Suguru keeps watching him intently, his thumb running down to wipe at the corner of Satoru’s mouth, and it’s making Satoru’s heart beat so hard that it feels like it wants to jump out of his chest. They’ve always exchanged plenty of relaxed touches, Suguru and him, but this is something entirely different. This is Suguru touching his face, his mouth, and they never– they never do that stuff.
Strangely enough, Satoru doesn’t really mind. Instead of shoving Suguru’s hand away, he just stands there, painfully aware of how dumbly he’s staring at Suguru while the rest of the people in the room are watching him.
“Good,” Suguru hums. His smile grows a little wider as his eyes keep running over Satoru, a twinkle of amusement in them. Satoru doesn’t get what’s so funny, but he doesn’t want to ask, either. He likes it when Suguru’s happy. “Do you know where you are?”
“The infirmary, right?” Satoru throws a glance towards the others from the corner of his eye, seeing the girl and Fushiguro watching him closely, hands in front of their mouths as they whisper to each other. Shoko’s by her desk, flicking through some documents because she, at least, has the fucking decency to give him some privacy while he speaks to his friend. “It looks the same as always.”
“Mhm.” Suguru eases his hand back a little, tucking a finger underneath Satoru’s shades before he pushes them up to his forehead. His eyes grow a tad softer as he takes in Satoru’s own eyes, Suguru’s touch featherlight against his skin. “If I’m correct, you’re— what, 17-18?”
“I turned 18 a few months ago.” Satoru can’t stop looking at Suguru while they talk, taking advantage of the fact that Suguru is inspecting him to scrutinise him just as much in return. He’s just so big. He’s visibly a bit older than Satoru, but he’s still Suguru, and that messes with his head, because that’s Suguru’s voice and Suguru’s eyes, but even though he’s always been a bit broader and more muscular than Satoru, it’s never been quite this obvious. “It was just your birthday.”
Suguru grins at him. “Indeed it was. And what did we do for the occasion?”
Somewhat confused by the strange question, Satoru still decides to humour him. “You came home from a mission that morning, so you didn’t want to make too big of a deal out of it. We– uh, me and Shoko,” he glances towards her again and she looks up, curiously returning his look, “let you rest for a bit, then I grabbed your favorite food and some cakes, and we just hung out together the rest of the night.” Satoru snorts, looking down at his feet for a moment while relishing the memory. “You were so fucking tired. You fell asleep around ten or something.”
“Right,” Suguru chuckles. “You spent the night, didn’t you? We woke up together.”
A flush of heat spreads over Satoru’s cheeks, and he lowers his voice. “That’s just cus you fell asleep with your head on my shoulder. Didn’t wanna wake you up.” Suguru had looked so fucking soft, his mouth halfway open as he drooled over Satoru’s shoulder. He would’ve teased him for it the next day, but he didn’t wanna let Suguru know that he had been watching him like some creep.
“Cute,” Suguru says, a soft drawl in his voice.
Satoru snaps his gaze back up, eyes narrowing as he holds Suguru’s stare. “What, for being a good friend? Fine, I’ll wake you up the next time, then. Jerk.”
“That’s no way to talk to your husband,” Shoko lazily comments as she walks over to them, a thermometer in her hand. She’s watching Satoru like she finds something about him very amusing, and it sorta annoys him because he has no idea what the joke is.
Wait— husband?
“Huh?” Satoru blinks, then blinks again, staring at her in bewilderment. “Huh?”
“Oh, yeah!” the girl from earlier says, a gleeful smirk on her lips. “You’re married to Geto-sensei, by the way.”
Satoru watches her dumbly for a moment, then flicks his gaze back to Suguru. The latter is already looking at him, his smile both amused and fond at the same time as Satoru’s eyes dart all over his face.
“We– we actually got together?” he asks then, unable to hold back the doubt in his voice.
Suguru’s eyes crinkle gently at the corners. “Yeah,” he says, smiling softly.
This weird sensation is filling Satoru’s stomach, coiling up tight before spreading into something very warm and very pleasant. Satisfaction, he realises. Pride. A hint of horniness, too, because he’s been thinking about Suguru’s broad shoulders and strong hands and hot voice for a few years already, and the knowledge that he gets all of those to himself is really– really something. It’s nice.
And because Satoru is Satoru, and he doesn’t really know how to tell Suguru that he’s kinda happy about learning this, cus he’s already feeling humiliated by how pliant and easy-going he got as soon as Suguru started touching him, he decides to go for a different approach.
“Heh,” he says cockily. “I knew it. About time you finally confessed, softie.”
Suguru’s polite smile grows wider and a tad sharp. “You were the one who kissed me first. Softie.”
And really, that tiny bit of snark from Suguru should maybe have provoked Satoru even more, but instead he can’t help but to notice how very Suguru it feels of him, to finally be a bit of a dick towards Satoru, too, and he finds that he really enjoys it. So instead of continuing their dick-measuring contest, he just grins at Suguru and shows him his jauntiest smile.
“So,” he says then, pitching his voice into a murmur that only he and Suguru can hear. “Who tops?”
Suguru’s own smile turns serene.
That small, lazy curve of his lips sends a surge of something restless through Satoru’s body, leaving his cheeks and the tips of his ears a pretty, bright red. Because there’s something about seeing Suguru like this, even more confident and relaxed in his body, emanating this lazy wickedness that is similar to the one he sported as a teen, but now even stronger, even more wicked. It’s like he’s grown into being so very in control of his body and himself, like he knows all of the things that he’s capable of, and like he knows how to deal with Satoru, too. It’s attractive as fuck, and Satoru wishes that he could ignore the way Suguru’s languid smiles send these shivers down his spine, leaving him hot and fidgety at the same time.
“Oh,” Satoru breathes out, swallowing harshly before glancing away. Suguru’s stare suddenly feels too heavy for him, too heated, and it’s kinda intimidating in a way he’s not really used to.
Like yeah, he’s used to Suguru looking at him in a way that nobody else does, in a way that feels special and warm and unique to them, but not like— not like he wants to eat Satoru. Not often, at least. Those looks are usually saved for when it’s late and dark, and they’re huddled together in one of their beds, talking quietly and sharing these glances that both of them can read but neither ever really act on. They are in no hurry, after all.
But apparently they got there eventually, especially considering that they’re fucking married now, they live together, and Suguru is his husband, he’s Satoru’s husband, and fuck, that makes Satoru’s heart do this weird jump and his cheeks are so painfully hot, and he’s— fuck, he’s jealous. He’s jealous of his future self, because he’s got Suguru like this, he’s able to touch Suguru whenever he wants to, and that’s so fucking unfair because Satoru himself has been wanting to do that for quite some time now.
“Satoru,” Suguru murmurs sweetly, and the familiarity of him saying his name like that makes Satoru’s fingers twitch. “Let’s discuss more of that later. Shoko wants to run some tests.”
Oh, right. Shoko — shit, Shoko and those damn brats must’ve seen him zoning out just now, all pink and flustered like a teen with their first crush, which, sure, Satoru is a teen with his first crush, but that’s none of their business!
“Uh,” he clears his throat, then looks over at Shoko and meets her gaze, recognising the familiar look of good-humoredness in it. “Yeah, sure.”
“Good boy,” Suguru coos, and Satoru wants to smack him in the balls for making Satoru’s skin tingle like this.
“Alright,” Shoko says, effectively ignoring them. “We’re pretty sure that you got hit by a curse that sent you ten years back in time, so you’re currently stuck in 18 year old Gojo’s body and mind. It shouldn’t be permanent, because according to your report,” she shoots him an unimpressed look, “which isn’t even three sentences long, you dimwit — according to it, you did exorcise the curse before teleporting back to school. It seems like you might’ve gotten hit by it beforehand, though it’s hard to say because you didn’t mention anything except for how nasty-looking and gross you thought it was.”
Scrunching up his nose, Satoru remains quiet. Those reports have always been the dullest part of being a sorcerer, in his opinion. What’s the point of spending more time writing them than he does exorcising the curses themselves? What a waste of resources.
“We still want to do a basic health test, though,” Suguru continues, stroking his knuckles against the side of Satoru’s face. Satoru involuntarily leans into the touch, enjoying the feeling of Suguru’s fingers against his skin. “Just to make sure that everything’s okay.”
“Wouldn’t reverse cursed technique be plenty capable of doing that, though?” Satoru asks, still tilting his head to make sure that Suguru keeps touching him.
Suguru’s silent for a moment, his fingers pausing against Satoru’s cheek before he slides them down to cup his jaw, his thumb stroking softly against Satoru’s lower lip. “That’s not a chance that I’m willing to take.”
Suguru’s words are so quiet and sincere that Satoru barely manages to keep from cooing a sardonic “Aww, how sweet” at him. It’s mostly because the utter devotion in Suguru’s statement is enough to make his dick twitch inside his pants, leaving him feeling somewhat betrayed by his own body because who the fuck gets hard from kindness?
“Fine, fine,” he mumbles, “whatever. What do you need me to do?”
Shoko lifts the thermometer, then nods towards the bed. “Just lie down there and be nice, it’ll just take a moment.”
Glancing away from Satoru, Suguru gives the two other teens a nod. “Nobara and Megumi, you two head outside.”
“Sure,” the girl, Nobara, says. She stabs her elbow into Megumi’s side as they walk towards the door, cackling cheerfully at his dismayed expression. “See, I told you! When you said the other day that you thought they couldn’t get any worse, I told you that they definitely could. You should listen to me more often!”
“Shut up,” Megumi groans in exasperation, pulling the door shut behind them as the room falls into silence.
Suguru’s lips curl as he tugs Satoru over to the bed, urging him to sit down on the white mattress. “We need to properly introduce you to them later. At least introduce them to you, I guess.”
“No need,” Satoru murmurs, annoyance tinting his voice. “I’ve had enough of those brats for a while.”
Shoko grabs Satoru’s jaw, forcing him to lift his head and open his mouth as she sticks the thermometer between his lips. While he’s grumblingly keeping it underneath his tongue, she presses a hand against his forehead. “You’re tired of them already? That’s gonna make family dinners awkward.”
“Eh?” Satoru mumbles around the thermometer, shooting Shoko a disgruntled look.
“The boy was supposed to be bought by the Zenins.” Suguru’s still staying right by Satoru, a warm hand pressed against his back. “I think he was like 5 or 6 when his father dipped, and left him and his sister behind. We got a mission in the area they lived in, and stumbled upon them while we were investigating it.”
“No wayh,” Satoru says, muffled by the instrument in his mouth.
“I asked if we could talk to their parents, and they said that they weren’t around anymore.” Suguru’s mouth twitches as he watches Satoru. “You were being insensitive about it, but also pissy enough that I knew that you cared.” His eyes curve into two crescent shapes, revealing just how pleased Suguru is about the story. “Guess which one of us suggested to bring them back to the school.”
“No futhking wayh,” Satoru grumbles, then pulls out the thermometer as Shoko gestures for him to do so. “There’s no way.”
“I never expected you to be the fatherly type,” Shoko comments absentmindedly, briefly checking the thermometer before she starts preparing a needle. “Yet you dragged both of them back here and insisted on giving them a place to live. They may be brats, but they’re your brats.”
“What the fuck,” Satoru exclaims, looking between his friends to figure out when they’re gonna end this stupid joke; when they’re gonna reveal that all of this was just some weird prank, and that they’re actually just wearing some costumes to make them look older, and that the kids from earlier were hired actors.
“Just wait till he finds out about the twins,” Shoko says to Suguru, the tilt of her mouth cheery and mischievous.
“What twins?!” Satoru squawks, then presses himself against Suguru when Shoko moves towards him with the needle in her hand. “Put that away! I’m fine, I told you, I’m all good!”
Shoko reaches towards him, then pauses when her hand touches nothing but air. A vein in her forehead pulses in annoyance. “Turn off infinity, you moron!”
“No way! There’s no chance I’ll let you poke me with that thing!”
Shooting Satoru a deadpan look, Shoko makes no movement to remove her hand. “What, you fine with getting poked by other things, Gojo?”
Gaping at her, Satoru barely notices how that comment also tints Suguru’s ears a soft red. “Shoko…”
Shoko’s eyes dart over to Suguru instead. “You hold him down and make him lower infinity. Otherwise I’ll never heal the marks he leaves on your neck again.”
That makes Suguru pause, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he flicks it to Satoru.
“Come on now, Satoru,” he coos gently, coaxingly. “It’ll just be a pinch. You’ve dealt with much worse.”
“Traitor,” Satoru hisses, still keeping himself glued to Suguru’s side.
It’s not the pain that he’s necessarily afraid of, he’s just not a fan of needles and getting stabbed by sharp things. It’s gross and uncomfortable, and there’s no really need for him to get that treatment, anyways, not with how perfectly he’s running rct these days.
“I’ll buy you the daifuku you’re so fond of,” Suguru’s voice is honeyed and smooth, the man clever enough to know where to strike. “Ichigo daifuku is in season now, you know. I’ll get you the ones with whipped cream inside.”
Grumbling, Satoru shoots his friend— ah, his fucking husband a betrayed look. “I’ll buy them myself. You know I can afford it.”
“Right,” Suguru plays along. “With the money from our shared account?”
That makes Satoru pause. “We have a shared account?”
“We share everything.”
“You do,” Shoko confirms, still impatiently waiting for Satoru to lower his infinity. “It’s nauseating.”
Ignoring her, Satoru watches Suguru for a moment longer. He then narrows his eyes. “I want at least a hundred daifuku.”
Suguru smiles at him, amber eyes sparkling with amusement. “Your teeth are gonna rot, but alright. I can get you that.”
“And you’re gonna feed them to me,” Satoru adds. He’s not really sure why he did, he just knows that he has to make it clear that this is a big compromise for him. He’s being the bigger person here, really.
Suguru’s gaze falls to his mouth, lingering there. “Sure.”
“Nobara-san really hit the nail earlier.” Shoko’s voice is dry. “I didn’t think you could get much worse, either.”
“Shut up,” Satoru grumbles, rolling up his sleeve before presenting his arm to Shoko, flickering off infinity for her. “I’ve never been fond of needles.”
“Oh, I’m well aware,” Shoko wipes his skin with a disinfectant, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. Her eyes flick up to meet his for a moment, something warm in them. “But somehow, you never seem to mind too much as long as Geto is around to hold your hand.”
🌙
Satoru’s test results all turn out to be perfect, which he could’ve fucking told them if only they would listen to him. He let Shoko poke him here and there, inspecting his eyes and his mouth and even making him remove his shirt so she could listen to his heart and smack his back and whatever the hell doctors do to their patients these days.
Though, when he thinks about it, then maybe the smack was all Shoko; simply her seeking revenge for the way Satoru went all pink as he tugged off his shirt, Suguru’s intense gaze making him stupidly self-conscious and flustered. It didn’t make things better when Suguru touched his waist and snorted, going “Just as sensitive as always, huh,” making Satoru’s dick stiffen so fast that he considered himself very, very lucky for having his discarded shirt lying on his lap.
So he’d let her poke at him, Satoru himself staying quiet and averting his gaze every time he noticed how heavily Suguru’s eyes were resting on him, wandering all over his body as he seemed to take in Satoru’s body with an almost analytical focus. It was sort of like he was picking up and cataloguing all the ways 18 year old Satoru’s body differed from the 28 year old version of him, his gaze lingering on Satoru’s collarbones, his muscled yet still not heavily defined abdomen, his shoulders, his hands.
Satoru even notices Suguru glancing at his chest and his nipples, of fucking course he notices, and he really wished that he could camouflage how that discovery sends a blush all the way from the tips of his ears to his throat, leaving his pulse a little uneven as Shoko listens to it.
She clicks her tongue. “Stop it, Geto. You’re distracting him.”
“Hm?” Suguru’s tone is soft, calm. Dragging his gaze away from Satoru’s nipples, all pink and lush and beginning to perk up, he looks up at Shoko. “He’s not doing anything, is he?” His gaze shifts to Satoru, and Suguru’s lips curl a little. “Satoru’s being all good and obedient for once.”
Eyes widening, Satoru stares right back at Suguru, feeling his heart beat even harder. His cheeks are so warm, so fucking warm, and he can swear that he feels sweat build up inside his palms where he’s clutching onto his shirt, though it’s hard to focus on that when he can feel his cock throbbing inside his pants.
It’s almost unsettling how smooth this version of Suguru is, how clever his tongue is, because Satoru is used to a much more proper side of his friend — sure, it’s not like 18 years old Suguru is ever as angelic as a lot of the people around them seem to think, he’s also great at shit-talking and getting up to trouble and is at times even more mischievous than Satoru himself. And sure, he’s succeeded plenty a time in making Satoru’s cheeks grow a little red when their roughhousing ends up with Suguru pushing Satoru down into the dirt and grinning down at him, or when they shower at the same time and Suguru’s in no rush to get dressed again immediately so he blowdries his hair while his body is still all naked and wet and awfully tantalising to look at, or when he rests his hand around Satoru’s waist just for comfort or to guide him somewhere or whatever.
But it’s never been like this, with Suguru watching Satoru so openly and intently that there’s no doubt that he’s checking him out, and similarly no doubt that he’s enjoying what he sees. It’s never been like this, with Suguru’s eyes carrying that added glint of something a little more heated, a little more charged, and his words being loaded enough to make it clear that he knows exactly what they are suggesting.
“Enough of that,” Shoko says, voice firm. She points a finger at Suguru then flicks it towards the door. “You — out. You can come back when the check-up is finished.”
Suguru shoots her a look. “I’d rather be here when my husband is being examined after a curse attack, but thanks.”
His words spread a pleasant heat inside Satoru’s chest, another sense of familiarity running through him. It’s not like he’s used to being in the infirmary, but the few times he’s been there, Suguru has always tagged along to keep him company or hold his hands if he had to get his blood done. Seems like some things never change.
Shoko, however, does not seem to share that same sense of fondness for Suguru’s kind gestures.
“I don’t care,” she simply says. “You’re making his heart rate act up, and he’s all fidgety. It’ll only be a few minutes more.”
“Shoko—“
“Otherwise,” Shoko shoots Suguru a look over her shoulder, “I’ll tell Yaga what happened in his office that weekend he was gone.”
Suguru’s face stiffens, his mouth shaping a thin line. Satoru tilts his head curiously, wondering what the hell they might’ve done to it. Did they prank him or something? Wrap his furniture and documents in saran wrap, like they did to Ijichi once?
Judging from the expression on Suguru’s face, however, such a harmless prank seems too mild to wake such a reaction from him. What did they do?
“You wouldn’t.” Even as he says it, Suguru doesn’t seem to entirely believe his own words.
“You know I would,” Shoko says easily. “Now shoo, I promise to take care of your lover boy.”
Satoru huffs. “Who are you calling lover boy,” he grumbles petulantly.
They both ignore him.
“Fine,” Suguru acquiesces, stroking his fingers through Satoru’s white locks before giving his cheek a loving pinch. He smiles at him, fond and teasing at the same time. “I’ll go let the students know that you’re okay. Be good for me, alright?”
“I’m always good!” Satoru squawks indignantly. “Don’t treat me like a fucking child!”
Cooing softly, Suguru lowers his face until his mouth is right by Satoru’s ear. “But you love it when I baby you a little, don’t you? Doesn’t it feel good to be taken care of for once?”
Cheeks burning, Satoru’s gaze drops to his hands at Suguru’s words. Somehow, the only thing more annoying than Suguru babying him is the fact that he’s fucking right. Yes, okay, fine, it feels nice to have someone simply tell Satoru what to do sometimes — it’s nice to know that he manages to please Suguru just by doing what he’s told to do, that Suguru enjoys taking care of Satoru like that. That he wants to reassure Satoru and make him feel safe after he woke up in a timeline he’s not familiar with, letting him know where he’ll be going while leaving him in the safe and capable hands of Shoko.
But it’s not like Suguru will ever get him to admit that!
“Tch,” Satoru lets out through his teeth. “Whatever.”
Suguru chuckles quietly, then presses a soft kiss to Satoru’s temple, and Satoru has to keep himself in check not to lean into it, not to grab Suguru’s face and demand another one, maybe five more, maybe a dozen. Because Suguru’s lips are soft, they’re all warm and a tiny bit moist and sweet, and he can feel Suguru’s warm breath against his skin, just for half a second, and that alone is enough to send a new shiver of arousal through Satoru’s veins. Fuck.
“I’ll see you very soon,” Suguru says, giving Satoru’s hair another gentle stroke before he nods to Shoko and heads out.
Satoru stares at him the entire time he walks away, stares shamelessly at those wide and strong shoulders, the long, long, and dark hair tumbling down his back, the strong thighs and arms hidden underneath a dark navy uniform, the colour a little deeper than the one of Satoru’s current uniform.
“Enjoying the sight, huh?” Shoko comments, her face neutral but her tone amused. “I bet. He’s grown a lot since the last time you saw him, hasn’t he?”
Satoru glances at her, then looks away while she keeps moving around him. His face is still hot. “I guess.”
“No need to be shy. Geto’s just as intrigued by you as you are by him.”
“I’m not shy,” Satoru snaps, shooting Shoko a glare. “It’s just a lot to take in. You could show a little compassion, you know, aren’t that what doctors are meant to do?”
Shoko snickers at him. “As if you wouldn’t be even more unsettled if I started being overly doting towards you. That’s all for your husband to be.”
His husband. His husband. His Suguru. The knowledge that he and Suguru actually ends up marrying — marrying! Marrying his best friend! — somehow manages to make Satoru both horny and soft-hearted at the same time. And perhaps a tiny bit relieved, just slightly; it’s not like he’s ever doubted that he and Suguru would get through it all together, that they’d both survive, but he’s aware of how harsh the jujutsu world is. A lot of sorcerers die, and even though he’s confident that it’d never happen to him or Suguru, it’s still sorta nice to know that they actually make it. That everything will end up fine, because they’ll always have each other. Even Shoko’s still around.
“Whatever,” Satoru mumbles again. Shoko makes him open his mouth for a bit, tongue stretched out for her to inspect, and when she’s finished and takes a step back, Satoru uses the opportunity to inspect her a little closer, too.
Her cursed energy is similar to the one of 18 years old Shoko, though a little stronger now, a little clearer. All in all it’s almost indistinguishable, which makes sense considering that Shoko seldom goes on missions and therefore doesn’t necessarily have the same explosive growth as Suguru seems to have had. Where Suguru’s cursed energy has grown by leaps and bounds, leaving the air around him a lot more intimidating, a lot more fierce, Shoko seems to have mostly grown in a slow yet steady way. It’s pleasant and familiar, and Satoru enjoys how recognisable it is.
Aside from the changes in her cursed energy, Shoko seems to have matured and grown into an adult version of herself that also fits the image Satoru has of her as a teen. Although her hair has grown quite a bit, it’s still the same colour, and she still wears a subtle layer of makeup along with a big, white doctor’s coat. Everything is pretty much the same as before, Satoru realises, with Shoko’s traits either staying the same or growing longer, darker — her hair, the paleness to her skin, the bags underneath her eyes.
“You look tired as hell,” Satoru comments then, looking at her under-eye circles. “Do you get any sleep at all?”
Shoko doesn’t reply. Instead, she simply lifts a hand and flicks Satoru’s forehead with an impressive force considering how little effort she put into it.
“Ow!” Satoru hisses, shooting her a scathing look. “What was that for? What a shitty way to treat your patients!”
“I forgot what an ass you were as a kid,” Shoko says. She ignores Satoru’s whining in favour of looking through a file, flipping through documents with a slender finger. “I guess you didn’t have any manners before Geto started fucking them into you.”
“Eh!” Satoru bristles, jumping off the bed and turning to glare at her. “What the fuck! That’s some private shit, Shoko, if Suguru heard you say something like that—“
“He’d shrug and laugh,” Shoko says calmly. Putting the file away, she crosses her arms over her chest and fixes her eyes on Satoru’s stiff, puffed-up stance. Her lips curve. “Geto’s very relaxed these days. I guess he was a bit more honourable when we were young, hm?”
The Suguru that Satoru is used to would definitely have reacted if Shoko said something like that to him; he’d perhaps not be as angry as Satoru would like to think that he’d be, but he’d definitely be annoyed. He’d shoot Shoko that look that he always does whenever she teases them for sharing a bed or swapping clothes, cooing at them and going “Look at the sweethearts,” then hiding behind Nanami or Haibara whenever it pissed off Suguru too badly. Satoru always took that as a sign that Suguru was uncomfortable with the jokes, but considering the fact that they are goddamn married now… Perhaps there's another reason why Suguru’s cheeks got all flushed and he couldn’t quite meet Satoru’s eyes for a while after, then.
“Anyway.” Shoko jots down a few things in her notes with a pen, then lifts the notebook and gently taps it against Satoru’s head to get his attention. “You’re all good. Seems like your body is in tip-top shape — I can’t really tell whether it’s because of rct or due to the curse’s technique not harming you in any other way than changing your body, but good news is good news, regardless.”
Satoru waves away the papers in her hand with a scrunched up nose, then meets her gaze. “So there’s nothing for me to do but to wait? Should I go back to the place where I fought the curse?”
“That’d probably be wise, but I’d wait to plan those things till after you’ve met with Yaga and Geto again. They probably have some opinions, too.” Her lips tug up into a gentle smile. “Your students do too, I assume.”
“Students,” Satoru scoffs. “Fucking students. Are we sure I haven’t been pulled into an alternative universe or something?”
Moving to her workbench, Shoko puts her papers away before she starts cleaning the instruments she’d used. “We’re pretty sure, yes. Mostly because we believe that the curse is connected to a fear of letting go of the past, so it’d make sense for it to have a technique that allows it to send its victims back in time. I assume it’s to keep people from wanting to return to the present, so it can slowly feast on them while the victims stay stuck in a happy memory from their past.”
“Or,” Satoru suggests, “there’s currently a 28 year old version of me hanging out with 18 years old Suguru in my universe.”
Shoko snorts. “Hanging out with? More like bothering the hell out of him. 28 year old you is a pain in the ass.”
“Hey!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Shoko says sweetly, meeting Satoru’s offended gaze. “There’s no competition. You’re still the biggest pain in the ass out of the two of you.”
Huffing in offense, Satoru brushes off some non-visible dust from his uniform before he moves towards the door. “Rude. How the hell did both you and Suguru grow up to have less manners.”
“The same way you and Geto grew up to be even more disgusting than the younger versions of you, I reckon.” Shoko watches him as Satoru tugs open the door, her brown eyes warm and amused. “However, I sort of wish I’d put those manners away earlier when I see you now. I forgot how red and hissy you got back then. It’s awfully cute.”
“Shut up!” Bristling, Satoru pulls down his sunglasses to cover his eyes before shooting her a glare over the edge of them. “If I’m awfully cute, then you’re awfully fucking rude!”
He slams the door behind himself, stomping up the stairs loudly enough that he hopes she can hear his annoyance.
Shoko sighs, resting a hip against her desk. “Yes, just like that.” She then pats the pockets of her coat, hoping to find a stray cigarette in one of them.
For some reason, seeing Satoru like this is making her feel a little melancholic of her student days.
🌙
“Gojo-sensei!” A voice yells, loud and excited, when he approaches Suguru and a bunch of students outside the building.
They’re standing close to the entrance, Suguru’s arms crossed as he calmly says something to the five teenagers gathered there. There’s the two brats Satoru met earlier, Nobara and Megumi, and then two younger girls wearing similar uniforms, and then a pink-haired kid who turns towards Satoru the moment he steps outside.
Holding back a click of his tongue, Satoru simply shoots the boy an unimpressed look as he comes to a pause in front of him. “In case you’re not aware, I’m not your teacher.”
“Well,” the boy scratches his chin, tilting his head questioningly. “Aren’t you, though? You’re just a little bit different right now.”
“A little bit different? I’m the same that I’ve always been. It’s everything else that has changed.”
“Oh.” The pink-haired guy pauses to think for a moment. “So it’s like you’ve been sent forward in time?”
Satoru shrugs. “I guess? That’s what it feels like to me. I’m the same and everything else is different.”
“Wo-oah,” dragging out the word, the boy then shoots Satoru a big, excited grin. “That’s really cool! It’s like an action movie. You’re like the main character, sensei!”
“Don’t call me—” Satoru pauses. Blinking, he adjusts his sunglasses for a moment before he leisurely slips his hands into his pockets and nods at the boy. “Actually, yeah. I guess I’m like the main character, huh?”
“Yeah!” the boy agrees cheerfully. He’s still smiling wildly, and the exaggerated cheerfulness would’ve annoyed Satoru if not for the fact that he can tell that it’s a hundred percent genuine. The boy is just happy. It sorta reminds him of Haibara, making it even harder to find the boy’s eagerness unpleasant. “Did you bring any cool weapons with you from the past? Any new powers?”
“He’s not actually from the past, dumbass,” an annoyed voice says, and Satoru glances at Megumi from the corner of his eye as he walks over to them. “It’s just the result of Gojo-senpai being sloppy with a curse.”
“Doesn’t matter as long as the curse got exorcised in the end,” Satoru says bluntly. He turns towards Megumi, looking down at him over the rim of his glasses. “Besides, you should treat me with respect. I’m your teacher after all, so call me sensei.”
Megumi’s temple pulsates with irritation. “You told me earlier not to call you that, so I won’t.”
“I’m your teacher, aren’t I?”
“Yeah.”
“So call me sensei.”
Jaw clenching, Megumi shoots Satoru a vexed glare. “I’m not doing that.”
“Call me sensei,” Satoru repeats, eyes narrowing in warning. “Otherwise we’re putting you up for adoption again.”
“We’re not gonna do that,” a mild and amused voice says. Suguru seems to have finished up talking to the two girls, now approaching the group of teens and coming to a pause next to Satoru. Smiling down at him, Suguru smoothes his palm down Satoru’s back, stroking lower and lower until it comes to a pause around his waist. “Getting rid of our kids now, Satoru?”
“Just the ones that aren’t showing any respect for their elders,” Satoru replies snidely, shooting Megumi another look before he leans into Suguru’s side. He’s all big and warm, and the point of contact feels really nice. Settling, almost, like his body knows that it can relax as long as Suguru is nearby.
“I see. The same way you never show any respect towards your elders?” Suguru’s tone is merely a drawl, all languid and pleasant. It fits his relaxed body language well, the way he’s looking at Satoru with the corners of his mouth tilted up — like all of this is amusing to him, just another funny story for them to laugh about later.
Satoru finds that he really, really enjoys seeing Suguru all content and unworried like this.
“That’s different,” Satoru says, meeting Suguru’s gaze. He smirks at him. “We’re the strongest. Other people should bow down to us, not the opposite.”
“How cocky!” Nobara exclaims, stomping over to them with an outraged expression on her face. “I thought you couldn’t be any worse, but somehow the young version of you has even bigger of an ego than your adult self!”
“Eh!” Satoru bristles, turning towards her yet staying close to Suguru thanks to the warm hand around his waist. “There’s nothing wrong with having a high opinion of yourself as long as you’re strong enough to stand for what you’re saying! That’s more than what I can say for you, third grade.”
“Then let’s settle this, punk!” Nobara says, whipping out a hammer at the same time as Suguru gives Satoru’s midriff a soft tug.
“Come now, Satoru,” he coos, amber eyes glittering when Satoru looks at him once more. “Instead of picking on our students, why don’t we go buy the daifuku I owe you?”
It sounds nice to prove a point to that brat of a girl, to show her exactly why Gojo Satoru is a big-shot in the jujutsu world, but getting those ichigo daifuku does also sound quite tempting. Especially considering that it’s something he’s gonna do with Suguru, cus Suguru’s gonna buy them for him, and then he’s going to feed them to Satoru, just like how they agreed on earlier.
And it’s not like that's a big deal to Satoru, of course, but having his friend service him like that, an action that feels like something maybe a servant or someone else at his family’s estate would do — it’s a bit funny, really, because the 18 years old Suguru would definitely throw a fit if Satoru suggested that he should feed him pastries. He’d go all tight-lipped and annoyed, probably scolding Satoru with that sweet voice of his, before eventually giving in when Satoru doesn’t stop asking.
But this Suguru, all grown up and mature, seems strangely relaxed about the entire thing. He’s been almost suspiciously agreeable to the things Satoru has suggested so far. Has Suguru grown soft on him?
“Tch,” Satoru drops his gaze, looking briefly at where Suguru is touching him. His hand is so big. “Fine, whatever. I’ll kick her ass later.”
Suguru touches his chin with his other hand, the pad of his finger featherlight against his skin. “No, you won’t.”
It seems like a good time to test out how soft Suguru has grown over the years. “Why, not going to let your husband defend his honour?”
“Somehow, I don’t think beating up your students is going to do much for your honour,” Suguru hums cordially. Tilting up Satoru’s chin, he holds his gaze again, Suguru’s own eyes lidded and heavy as he smiles down at him and lowers his voice a tad. “I can’t tell whether you’re being feisty because you’re stressed about the situation, or because they’re actually calling you out on your bullshit. Which one is it, Satoru?”
Satoru blinks, and then he pushes Suguru’s hand away, taking a step back. Glaring up at him, Satoru almost struggles to believe how Suguru manages to be his closest friend, his one and only, his fucking husband, but also the biggest pain in the ass that he knows. The fucking nerve of him analysing Satoru’s behaviour right to his face, right in front of the group of brats, acting like Suguru knows him better than he knows himself.
Not only is it a shitty move, but it’s also humiliating because yeah, Suguru might know him pretty damn well, but that doesn’t give him the green light to just go ahead and point those things out like it’s common knowledge! Regardless of whether his stupid observations happen to be right or not!
Besides, when did Suguru even get this good at reading him? He’s always been observant, but this— this is definitely something else. Is this what being married does to people? Satoru isn’t so sure if he likes it anymore.
“You,” Satoru bites out, shooting Suguru the most aggravated scowl he manages to, “are sleeping on the couch tonight. Husband.”
Suguru’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and then his eyes crinkle, smoothing into two lines as he tilts his head back and laughs. Satoru really wishes that the sound of it didn’t make this pleasant sensation settle in his gut, leaving his own cheeks a little warm.
“But then I’ll be all alone,” Suguru murmurs softly, almost purring into Satoru’s ear. His breath is warm against Satoru’s skin, sending shivers down his spine. “And I won’t get to hear those pretty noises that you make when I wake you up by—”
“Sensei!” The pink-haired boy interrupts them, looking up from a conversation he’s been having with Megumi and Nobara. Satoru is so relieved by the interruption that he’s almost feeling inclined to kneel for the boy, because Suguru’s words made his dick throb in interest again, and his cheeks are once more taking on a strong, pink hue. Suguru is too fucking smooth as an adult. “If you’re heading out with Gojo-sensei, does that mean we’re dismissed for the rest of the day?”
Suguru nods at him. “That’s right, Yuji-kun. I hope you guys don’t mind the change of plans too much.”
“Not at all!” the boy, Yuji, says cheerily. “There’s a new movie I wanna see that is premiering today.”
“It better not be Human Earthworm 5,” Megumi says, his tone dry.
“Nuh uh. That one doesn’t release until fall; didn’t you see the calendar I sent you, Fushiguro?” Yuji pulls out his phone, opening a document that he shows the other two. “See, that’s not until October. In March we have Help My Best Friend is an Alien 2, and next month I wanna see—”
“Eww. Help My Best Friend is an Alien 1 was disgusting,” Nobara exclaims, her face contorted in disdain. “Why do you even wanna watch those films?”
“They’re kinda funny, aren’t they?” Yuji laughs and sheepishly rubs the back of his head. “They remind me of the situation with me and Sukuna. Maybe we could learn something by watching them?”
Satoru blinks, then glances over at Suguru.
“Did that kid,” he says, not bothering to keep his voice down, “just mention Sukuna? The Sukuna, from our boring ass history books?”
“Sure did,” Suguru says, grinning down at Satoru. “Are you surprised? He’s your student, after all.”
Satoru shifts his gaze back to Yuji, blue eyes glinting as he looks at him over the rim of his glasses. That does explain the boy’s sort of weird cursed energy, how it has this different edge to it, almost, like it’s both strong yet less present at the same time. And quite frankly, he does find it quite fitting that if anyone would be messing around with something from Sukuna’s era around a thousand or so years after his reign, then yeah, of course it’d have to be someone related to him — even if ends up being his student.
“Sukuna or not, looks like he’s not doing too bad,” Satoru points out, still watching Yuji closely while the boy talks to Megumi and Nobara, trying to convince them to join him at the movies. He looks a bit exasperated at the way his friends openly criticise his film choices, yet nevertheless healthy and strong and happy, a certain glow to his skin that you usually don’t find in sorcerers who’s been doing jujutsu for a while. Guess that means he’s still kinda new, then.
Suguru’s smile softens a tad, his eyes never straying away from Satoru’s face. “Yeah. Like I said, he’s one of your students — they’re always in safe hands if you’re around.”
“Tch,” scowling down at his feet, Satoru turns around and takes a few steps away from the group. “Whatever. It’s not like the brats can take care of themselves, either.”
“Oh, they’re plenty capable.” Footsteps are audible right behind him, letting Satoru know that Suguru’s following him. “You’ve seen their cursed energies, so you know it, too. Satoru.” Suguru’s voice is carrying that hint of mischief again, soft and teasing and so stupidly, ridiculously attractive. “You’re not possibly feeling a bit pleased to learn that your students, regardless of whether you find them bratty or not, not only are strong enough to deal with curses by themselves, but that they also seem to like you quite a bit, hm? Enough that they all wanna check up on you after a curse mishap?”
He’s sporting that fox-like look again as he tilts his head at Satoru, eyes amused and half-lidded in a very familiar and very bothersome way — not because Satoru dislikes it or anything, but because that’s the face that Suguru wears when he knows that he’s right. It’s annoying as fuck.
“Pah,” Satoru scoffs. “Probably just hanging around to see whether I survived or not. It’d probably make for good gossip if the strongest sorcerer died to some low-rank curse or whatever.”
Suguru gently touches his chin, tilting Satoru’s face up.
“First of all,” he murmurs quietly, “don’t joke about things like that, please. I know you’re not being serious, but that’s a pretty serious matter to me. And, secondly,” Suguru glances over his shoulder, golden eyes running over their students for a moment before he looks back at Satoru, “don’t treat their feelings like a joke, either. You have a lot of people who care about you.” His lips quirk up into a smile. “Regardless of how much of a brat you act like.”
“Bleh,” Satoru turns his face away, waving a hand at Suguru while sincerely hoping that the way his ears are reddening is faint enough not to be noticed. “You’re so fucking soft now, Suguru, what the hell happened to you? I don’t turn out that way too, do I?”
“Soft?” Suguru’s smile turns serene. “No, you’re usually not soft around me. The opposite, in fact.”
There’s a tinge of something heated to his words, something that’s leaving the air around them a little heavier again, and Satoru doesn’t quite get it, but apparently his body does because he can feel something warm coil up in the lower part of his belly, right there inside his abdomen.
“That’s–” he starts, kinda wanting Suguru to expand on his words, but then gets interrupted by the sight of two girls walking over to them.
“Gojo-sensei,” they both greet, voices straight-forward and light. They then glance over at Suguru and shoot him sweet, openly admiring smiles, going, “Geto-sama.”
“Eh?” Satoru narrows his eyes, immediately forgetting about Suguru’s intriguing words in favour of inspecting the new pair of brats in front of them. “There’s even more of you? Hey, why don’t you call me sama, too?”
“That’s for people you greatly respect,” one of the girls replies, her hair blonde and tied up into a neat bun, face covered by a thick layer of makeup. The girl next to her carries a similar cursed energy, hinting at a deeper sort of relation between them — probably sisters, then — which is backed up by the way she’s clutching onto the other girl’s sleeve.
“Yeah,” Satoru says, hands landing on his hips as he stares her down. “Exactly. So why does only Suguru get called sama?”
The blonde girl blinks, then lets out a bored sigh. “When we heard that you got de-aged we thought you'd be all small and cute, so we wanted to come play with you. But you only turned out even more annoying!”
“Huh!” Moving a step closer, Satoru pats his chest while shooting her an offended look over his glasses. “What does that mean! I'm a blast to be around.”
“You're even more obnoxious than usual,” the other girl says, this one with short-cut and brown hair resting around her cheeks. She's still grabbing her sister's sleeve, a sort of weary look in her eyes, yet also a stubbornness and confidence in her words that reveals that she, too, doesn't feel nervous about being rude to one of the strongest sorcerers in history. Right to his fucking face, even. “We're used to you being loud, but usually you're nice about it.”
“Yeah,” her sister agrees, nodding heavily. “You make a fuss about us not calling you sama, and then you bring us out for crepes or ice cream to try to change our minds. It's much nicer than you being all puffy like you're now!”
“I'm not puffy!” Satoru exclaims, visibly puffed up.
“You're a little bit puffy,” Suguru says, smiling innocently when Satoru throws a glare towards him. Looping an arm around Satoru's waist, Suguru tugs him closer to his body once again, this time gently stroking Satoru's cheek with his other hand. “Probably just exhausted, hm?”
“No way!” Even though he protests immediately, Satoru does appreciate that Suguru picks up on how he's sorta — well, not exhausted really, but kind of overwhelmed. He's only been up for about an hour, and he's already met way more people than he usually does in a week. Combined with the fact that he's apparently been sent through time and space or whatever the fuck, there's really no wonder that he's feeling a bit unsettled right now. “Don't call me a weakling, Suguru.”
Suguru's smile turns gentle. “Not a weakling,” he murmurs. “Just human.”
He then looks towards the two sisters, shooting both of them a kind and pleasant smile. “Be nice to Satoru, girls. He's been through a lot in a very short amount of time.”
“Yes, Geto-sama,” they reply in choir, bowing their heads a little.
The brunette then tilts her head, dark eyes resting on Satoru. “Will Gojo-sensei be back to normal soon?”
“Hopefully, though it's kind of hard to say when.” Suguru's hand has slipped down from Satoru's cheek to his jaw, still gently petting him while he talks to the girls.
It's kind of embarrassing to just stand there like this, allowing himself to be touched in whatever way Suguru wants to, but it also feels stupidly nice and oddly comforting, and it's not like Satoru cares what other people think, anyways, so he stays put. He wouldn't wanna embarrass Suguru by moving away out of the blue, after all. Satoru's being really polite, when he comes to think of it.
“You've never met a curse like this before?” The blonde girl asks, almost looking a bit taken aback by the knowledge that their perfect Geto-sama hasn't fought every single curse there is in this country; they must really admire him, then, for them to have such a high opinion of him.
Suguru shakes his head, looking at the girls while still holding Satoru close. “Nope. Even though it's not a Special Grade, it's still a surprisingly tricky one. That's why they sent Satoru.”
The girls both nod, as if this, too, is something they're used to. If something's tricky or hard, of course they send Satoru — it's not like there's anything he can't deal with.
“And still he got hit,” the blonde girl murmurs, long-lashed eyes darting over to Satoru again. “I'm– I'm glad Gojo-sensei is alright.”
“Me too,” the other girl chirps in, nodding. “Sounds spooky if even sensei got tricked by it.”
Satoru clicks his tongue. “I was probably just distracted or something. The curse shouldn't even have been able to touch me.” He then moves his gaze to Suguru, realising that he has to look up a tiny bit to meet eyes, and finding that piece of information both sort of annoying and sort of intriguing at the same time. “See, this is why we should go on missions together! If you were around I'd probably be fine right now.”
Suguru's smile falls for a moment before he yanks it back up, and oh, alright, Satoru didn't really consider that, but if he actually went on a mission by himself and Suguru wasn't able to tag along, and then something happened to Satoru — of course his friend, no, fucking husband, would blame himself for it. Because that's just Suguru, isn't it, always good and kind and dependable, taking responsibility even when Satoru’s the one fucking up. Even though Suguru’s not at fault at all in this situation, he was probably busy taking care of their students or whatever other boring chores that Satoru can't imagine he'd wanna bother with as a teacher.
And now Suguru has that smile on his face, the one that looks genuine and as warm as the sun, but is actually the one he puts on whenever he's having a shitty day and doesn't wanna bother anybody else with it. Seems like he's forgotten that Satoru’s got some really damn good eyes.
“You're probably right though,” Satoru says then, looking back at the brown-haired girl. “About tricky curses being spooky. They’re often worse than the strong ones, actually, because you expect them to be a quick and simple fight, but then they somehow manage to do one over on you.” He shrugs, mouth shaping a dismissive grimace. “And I might, maybe, have been taking it a bit too lax. Maybe. So that's on me.” He looks up at Suguru again, skin prickling when he realises how intently he’s being watched. “I’d probably still manage to fuck up even if Suguru was there. He’s... kinda distracting the way he looks now.”
“Ew! Gross!” The blonde says, completely ignoring Satoru’s very kind, very sensible speech in favour of making a face at them.
“We told you not to flirt in front of us!” The brunette chimes in, tugging on her sister’s sleeve once more. “Come, Nanako, soon they’re gonna start kissing again!”
The first girl, apparently Nanako, nods before she starts walking away, moving towards the dorms at the opposite side of campus. “And then the butt-grabbing… Disgusting.”
Watching the girls walk away, Satoru keeps looking at their backs for a moment before he realises that Suguru's hand has stilled against his skin, so he shifts his gaze over to him.
Suguru has this very warm, very soft look in his eyes, and his thumb gently graces the corner of Satoru's mouth while he looks down at him. “I’ve never really wondered why or how I fell in love with you back then. Still, it's really nice to get reminders like this.” Lowering his head, Suguru presses a sweet kiss to Satoru's cheek, his lips surprisingly soft and lush. “Thank you, Satoru.”
Freezing, Satoru stands still for a moment while Suguru straightens back up, all of the atoms in his body zeroing in on his cheek and the spot where that sudden affectionate gesture brushed against him, and how Suguru had been so, so close, and how his smell is still the same as before, and how he said — how he actually said that he’s in love with Satoru. That he’s been in love with Satoru since they were teenagers. In love with.
“Ah!” Satoru jolts, cheeks reddening so quickly that he's almost positive that steam is coming from his head, and then he steps back, rubbing a palm against where Suguru had kissed him — kissed him, he kissed him, Suguru kissed Satoru! — and stares at his hand as if he can see the tiny saliva particles that are now currently resting there, before shooting Suguru a look that is both offended and flustered at the same time. “Suguru, you– blegh! Gross!”
He takes another step back, wipes his hand against his thigh, then takes a deep breath before glancing up and seeing that Suguru is watching him as if this is the most amusing thing to him in the world. “Why are you smiling!”
“You're being awfully cute,” Suguru simply says, then laughs as his words make Satoru grimace again. “I forgot how shy you were. Not used to kisses, huh?”
“What do you think!” Satoru grouses, rubbing his cheek once more, before he walks back over to Suguru. Holding his friend's stare, Satoru slowly points to his other cheek. “...Do it here, too.”
Suguru snorts, but happily complies — he's still insisting on doing things needlessly difficult, though, because instead of simply moving forward to press his mouth against Satoru's skin, he smoothes one palm around Satoru’s waist to pull him closer, his other hand cupping Satoru's jaw.
Running his thumb along Satoru’s bottom lip, Suguru lowers his voice a little. “So it didn't feel too bad, then?”
“Tch,” Satoru glances away, yet still allows himself to be held in this way too tenderly fashion. “I'll be the judge of that after you give me my next one.”
“Just on the cheek?” Suguru's tone has a hint of something dark in it. It's not entirely unattractive.
“…Yeah.” Feeling his cheeks heat up once more, Satoru then closes his eyes, because he's apparently too much of a fucking chicken to keep them open while Suguru looks at him like this. All lovingly and sweet and frankly quite disgusting, but also… Well, it's Suguru, after all. Satoru's always enjoyed having his friend's attention on him.
He hears a quiet exhale, almost like a chuckle, and then Suguru murmuring, ”Cute.” And then he feels Suguru move closer again, his Six Eyes making it clear to him precisely how close their faces are, Suguru's smell filling his nostrils again, and then a pair of soft lips pressing against his cheek. Soft, so very soft, with just the tiniest bit of wetness on them, and yet his skin prickles the second Suguru's mouth touches him.
It's just a kiss on the cheek, like the ones an old auntie would squish all over your face, or the way people in France greet each other according to a show he once saw, and yet Satoru feels his dick grow hard in his pants again. It's straight up humiliating because it's not even a sexual kiss, it's just a small peck, and he can see Suguru's lips twitch with amusement because who even acts like this after a single kiss? Not only getting weirded out, but also overly excited just because of a tiny smooth that lots of people get everyday from their family members or partners or whatever.
Satoru's not lots of people, though, and his family members certainly never showered him in affection like this. And he wishes he could be cooler about such a simple, banal matter, but the truth is that the intimacy is surprisingly nice. It's just nice. Suguru is really nice.
Pulling away, Suguru gives another peck to his opposite cheek before he pokes Satoru’s chin. “Was that alright?”
Satoru doesn't reply immediately, then nods. “…Yeah.” He clears his throat and opens his eyes again, avoiding Suguru's gaze. “Thanks.”
Smiling, Suguru runs a hand through Satoru's hair, gently ruffling it. “So very sweet. I forgot how docile kisses make you. When you get older they sort of rile you up instead.”
“Eh?” Finding himself intrigued by information about his older self, Satoru lifts an eyebrow questioningly. “Rile me up?”
“Yeah, they turn you on pretty bad,” Suguru casually says, fingertips scratching against Satoru's scalp. “We always have to find somewhere to hide away for a bit afterwards.”
Satoru blushes fiercely. He can’t really tell whether it’s because of Suguru's lewd words and the knowledge that they seem to fuck around a lot when they get together, which is nice, or humiliation because Satoru’s as hard as a rock after something as innocent as a kiss to his cheek.
“…Huh,” he settles on saying, and Suguru's attention immediately zeroes in on his face. His eyes, all dark and narrow, then dip down.
“Ah,” Suguru says, heavy gaze lingering on the bulge pressing against the seam of Satoru's pants. “Seems like you've always been easy to rile up.”
Satoru looks away, cheeks painted a ruddy red as he briefly wishes that he didn't currently have the hottest man in the entire fucking world holding his waist, because it's surprisingly difficult making his boner go down when he can feel his crush's fingers tighten around his midriff. And then, just as quickly, he pushes that thought away; he's been having entirely too many daydreams about Suguru touching him like this to let something as dumb as his hard cock make him wish for something so, so wrong.
He'll simply have to deal with the discomfort for a moment, until—
“Later,” Suguru murmurs quietly, lips suddenly right next to Satoru's ear. “Be good for me for a while longer, alright? Then I'll take care of you.”
Satoru looks up at him so quickly, so abruptly that he almost hear his neck crack — because with Suguru sounding like that, Satoru suddenly, desperately needs to see his face, needs to check if he looks just as stupidly hot as he sounds.
It’s even worse. Suguru’s eyes are somewhat lidded, the amber of them intense and vivid as he gazes at Satoru with dilated pupils, a certain sense of seriousness in his stare — no, not seriousness; just pure, cool-headed composure. Self-restraint enough not to act on his emotions, in quite the stark contrast to Satoru who suddenly finds himself wanting to ask Suguru to immediately bring him back to their place, because he’s feeling all these different sensations in his body now and he doesn’t know what to make out of them. He’s been horny before, but now it’s like his lower stomach is filled with a churning heat, lust surging through his body in this really heady way, as if it both demands and expects to get fucked.
It’s really weird, and it’s a lot, because Satoru has never messed around with anyone in bed before, and realising that he’s now going to get to do that with Suguru — and not even with his Suguru, but this grown up and mature and strong and calm, and super, fucking, ridiculously handsome Suguru, is a lot more than he knows what to do with. It’s more than he’s ever dared to hope for, truthfully, and that says a lot considering how he usually doesn’t shy away from making his expectations clear.
“…Fine,” Satoru breathes, swallowing harshly when he realises that his mouth somehow managed to fill with saliva during his few seconds of leering, then groaning mentally at himself because who fucking drools over their crush. “I’ll have you know, I’m always good.”
“No, you're not,” Suguru says serenely, then drops his hand to smack it against Satoru's ass. “Makes it a lot more fun disciplining you, though.”
Squawking at the sudden impact, Satoru jumps away from Suguru’s arms, shooting him a betrayed look over his shoulder while he reaches down to clutch his stinging ass.
“Never mind,” he hisses out, walking away with stiff footsteps. “I don’t wanna see you anymore today!”
Shoko's standing outside the infirmary building, a cigarette in her hand as she curiously watches Satoru. Her gaze drops down to where he’s grabbing his ass, then moves back up as she snickers at him. “You guys sure didn't waste any time.”
“Eh?” Frowning at her, Satoru gently smoothes a palm over his sore butt before straightening up. “What? He just hit me. What do you mean, didn’t waste any time?”
“Ah, I see.” Shoko’s tone is positively amused as she takes a slow inhale of her smoke.
“What?” Grimacing, Satoru moves away so he doesn't stand too close to her cigarette smoke, then grimaces even harder when he catches the meaning of her words. “Wh– hey! Don't be all perverted!”
Smiling down at him, Shoko doesn't seem bothered by the accusation in the slightest. “Not perverted, just jaded. I've heard you complain about a sore ass one too many times.”
“Huh?” Satoru tilts his head, still somewhat offended but also finding himself intrigued. “Why would I have a sore ass after– after sex? I have rct, don't I?”
Taking another long inhale of her cigarette, Shoko tilts her head back and slowly exhales in the opposite direction of where Satoru’s standing. Her eyes sparkle when they shift back to him.
“Ganbare, Gojo-sensei,” she simply says. “You're in for one hell of a night.”