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Satoru never got sick. Never . Even as a kid, he’d always be the one person at his private school who would avoid the flus that swept through his classrooms. He didn’t get stomach aches, didn’t get migraines, didn’t run fevers, didn’t get sent home from work due to a persistent dry cough. His sneezes were absolutely adorable and it was a horrendous shame that the world never got to see them because he never. Got. Sick.
Until he did.
Satoru woke up one morning, the first day of fall break in his fifth year of teaching high school (FIFTH year - that’s FIVE years he had been building up the strongest immune system he could and NOW this happens?), and he was sure he’d been hit by a fucking truck but blacked it out or something. His head ached , his vision blurred when he stood up, he felt simultaneously hot and cold at the same time, and the second he took a deep breath to gasp in horror at the realization of what befell him, coughs wracked his body in a truly disgusting way.
Absolute clownery.
He glared at his flushed and messy reflection in the bathroom mirror, shocked at the facts so clearly seen before him. The morning light began to filter in through his window and illuminate his sunken face. His eyes were glassy as they squinted at his reflection angrily, like it was someone he could blame for how he’d been brought low. Lower than he’d ever been before.
He hoped death would be kinder.
Satoru splashed cold water against his face and then stumbled into the kitchen, mentally reviewing what foods he thought his tumultuous tummy would be able to handle. He swung open the fridge door and saw -
Oh cool. Nothing . He swung it back shut and noticed the pinned up grocery list that he’d let accumulate for the past week of midterms and procrastination.
“Fuck.” he wheezed outloud, also suddenly thinking also about his bare medicine cabinet, which he had never needed to stock before and so he never did. It hadn’t seemed pathetic back then, when he thought himself immune to germs or viruses or whatever plagued the common masses, but now that he’d proven himself to be just like everyone-the-fuck-else, it was a little embarrassing that he didn’t have anything other than arnica in terms of medicine.
He grabbed his phone, intent on calling Shoko and begging for help when he remembered she was in fucking Bali with Utahime. She’d been proactive and actually took advantage of her week and a half off, booking a vacation with her girlfriend instead of choosing to lounge at home and sleep the whole break, like Satoru had planned to.
He supposed he could call Nanami… he’d help. Probably. But yeah, no. There was no way Satoru could be around him right now. He’d never been sick before, but just feeling it for the past five minutes, he knew the whining would be inevitable. The drama was brewing up inside of him like a magma boiling beneath the volcano that destroyed Pompeii. It wouldn’t be pretty and Namani might end up poisoning his medicine. Or suffocating him with a pillow. So, for his overall safety, that option was out.
Man, that unfortunately exhausted Satoru’s list of friends.
“Maybe I should be a nicer person.” he whispered to himself as he collapsed backwards on the couch, immediately breaking into another fit of coughing. He took that as a sign from the universe that no he shouldn’t be and he is a strong, independent person. He can go get medicine by himself .
And if you know anything about Satoru Gojo, you know that once he gets an idea in his head, absolutely nothing is going to stop him. Even if the idea is stupid and poorly thought out and bound to have severe negative consequences - he will see it through no matter what. And besides, usually his ideas are flawless, perfect, exquisite genius anyway.
He made himself a cup of tea (using his last spoonful of his favorite loose leaf star anise) and then wrapped himself in almost every layer of clothing that he owned. He considered two scarves, but in the end decided that fashion overrode his desire to avoid the blustery day that was brewing outside his window. He grabbed his keys, slipped on a mask and his sunglasses, and grabbed the door handle. He took a moment to take a deep breath, steeling himself before venturing into the unknown.
Of course, the deep breath made him dissolve into ragged coughing as he stumbled into the hallway, immediately swerving and running into the wall.
“Oh shit.” he breathed. His body felt so damn weak, it would be anger and stubborness alone that had to force his legs forward.
“Umm, are you okay?” a purr of a voice called out, shocking Satoru into standing up straight and snapping his eyes open.
Across the hall, staring at Satoru with equal parts concerned, equal parts horrified eyes was his hot as hell neighbor, Suguru Geto.
“Oh, of fucking course.” Satoru whined under his breath.
He’d been waiting so damn patiently for the perfect time to finally talk to his new neighbor. The other man had moved in about a month ago and Satoru had watched him unpack through his peephole as he chatted with Shoko on the phone. It had been a bit of revelation, watching those muscles flex as Suguru had carried boxes up and down the stairs - arms, abs, ass . Satoru didn’t know where to look. He’d almost gone out and introduced himself then, but his computer had beeped with an email from Yaga, trying to take away his prep period to substitute for other teachers and that had required his full attention (and anger).
Then, it seemed like every other time they’d had a chance to possibly introduce themselves, Satoru had been caught on the other foot. He’d been wet from the rain or sweaty-in-a-not-good-way and carrying in groceries, or crying on the phone as he screamed at Toji for being a piece of shit. They were never perfect chances and Satoru needed their first meeting to be perfect . He needed to sweep the other man off his feet and give him absolutely no option but to fall in love with him.
Satoru was absolutely capable of that - he just… needed the right moment. At least, that’s what he told himself every time he’d seen Suguru before and then done an about-face, hiding around the corner until the other man would slip into his apartment or roar away on his motorcycle. He was just biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to let fate work its magic.
Except fate, the asshole she was, decided the best time for Satoru to meet the inevitable love of his life was when he was covered in a sheen of sick-sweat and unable to take a deep breath without expelling demons. While of course, said love-of-his-life looked like he just walked off a runway for Nike - long black hair tied perfectly into a bun, biceps and pecs on display in a hoodie with the sleeves cut off, long legs looking like a dream in black joggers cinched at the ankles.
“What was that?” Suguru asked, one eyebrow raised at Satoru’s incessant mumbling.
“Nothing,” he tried to smile charmingly and then remembered his face was almost entirely hidden, “Um, I’m fine, thanks. Just running to get some groceries.” He pushed himself off the wall and tried to extricate himself from the situation as quickly as possible, heading to the elevators. Instead?, he only made it a few steps before he was swaying again, blood rushing to his head in a second.
“Is that a good idea, Satoru?” Suguru said and a more lucid person would be shocked that he knew his name, but he was too busy trying to stop the room from spinning. He felt Suguru place a steadying hand on his shoulder, righting him as best as he could, “You look like you’re about to pass out. Have you eaten anything this morning?”
“Fridge empty,” Satoru groaned, ignoring social decency and leaning his forehead against Suguru’s shoulder. The skin was cold, like he’d just been outside - it was such a nice feeling, he didn’t have it in him to move. He heard Suguru huff out a laugh that was equally shocked and amused, “That’s why I need to go get groceries.”
“Well, considering you can’t walk two steps without swooning, I cannot in good conscience let you do that.” Suguru said, wrapping an arm around Satoru’s waist to better steady him as he guided him towards - wait, where were they going? Satoru opened his eyes after several steps and saw himself in the foyer of an unfamiliar apartment, though it looked very similar to his own, just much less organized.
“You’re a maximalist, huh?” Satoru asked, taking in the mountains of books and walls covered in picture frames and paintings. The color scheme had very dark academia vibes - it was cozy and absolutely perfect. Satoru wouldn’t have been surprised to turn the corner and see a fireplace roaring or something.
“You could say that.” Suguru chuckled, smiling widely in a disarmingly serene way. Satoru just stared and let the other man guide him to sit on the big plush green couch.
“Wait, wait,” Satoru said, shaking his head slightly to try and clear the cobwebs, “Why are you letting me in here? I’m gonna get you sick so… bad… achoo! ” he sneezed, right in his mask, groaning at the wet feeling it left after. Suguru grimaced and also laughed a little.
“Wow, you have the cutest sneeze.”
“Ugh, I know.” Satoru groaned, leaning his head back against the couch and fighting the urge to fall asleep right then and there.
“I’ll be careful, I promise,” Suguru said, answering his earlier question, “I have a pretty strong immune system too, so I should be fine.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Satoru whined, “but this is the flu that took out the dinosaurs.”
“Pretty sure that was a meteor.”
“Apparently not.”
“Wow, well, if that’s the case, you’ll definitely be needing some help then,” Suguru laughed, warming Satoru’s heart even through the chills that wracked his body, “How about you rest your eyes and I’ll make you something to eat. You can’t get better if you don’t eat.”
“I need medicine too.” Satoru said timidly as he grabbed a pillow and wrapped his arms around it. Then he took off his glasses and beanie and looked up to Suguru with what he hoped were sympathetic eyes. Suguru’s expression brightened just a little as he tilted his head to better look at Satoru.
“You woke up on the verge of the plague and you didn’t take any DayQuil?”
“I don’t have any.” Satoru huffed, making Suguru hum in contemplation.
“Well, I’ll get you some of that too. Just gimme a minute.” he said before disappearing into the kitchen behind them. Satoru turned to the side and pulled his legs up underneath him.
“You’re sure you’re okay helping me? Don’t you have plans for the day or something?” Satoru asked.
“No, not really. I work from home most days anyway so staying in isn’t an issue,” he explained over the gentle sounds of him moving around in the kitchen, “Taking care of you will just be like having a puppy.”
“I’m really more of a cat.” Satoru said through a yawn, making Suguru chuckle again.
“Cats are never this needy.”
“ Lies .” he said through a yawn, squeezing his eyes shut to stare into the abyss of sleep that was just a breath away. Nanami would be having a field day over how rude Satoru was acting, encroaching on his strange neighbor’s kindness so selfishly. But the couch was so comfy and the room smelled like sandalwood and cinnamon and hey, maybe it would be a Florence Nightingale situation and Suguru would fall madly in love with him after nursing him to health.
He fell asleep to that thought with a smile on his face.
***
Suguru had no idea what he thought he was doing. What was it about this total complete stranger , who was a bit of an asshole, that made him want to take him in his arms, wrap him in a blanket, and never let him go? There was no explanation for it.
It couldn’t have had something to do with the way Satoru’s silky white hair fell across his forehead, or how his cheekbones looked noble enough to have been crafted by the old gods, or how peaceful his perfectly pretty face looked, even with half of it covered by a mask, as he rested on Suguru’s couch.
Suguru hadn’t been presented with this view when he let the other man in his apartment in the first place. He hadn’t any idea really, that his neighbor was his own personal Pygmalion come to life when he’d taken the sniffling, wobbly, and whiny man, laid him on his couch and offered to nurse him back to health. He’d made soup, dug up medicine, and plated it all in a way any housewife would be truly impressed by, before he’d even seen the face that made his heart skip a beat.
So there truly was no explanation for it. He’d been impulsive and rash and it was completely unlike him, but now there was an angel asleep on his couch and so maybe this was teaching him bad habits.
Truly, despicably bad habits, because suddenly he was overwhelmed with the need to see the other man’s whole face. He had no idea what took over him as he set down the tray on the coffee table, squatted down eye-level with Satoru’s sleeping face, and reached his hand out to tug down the face mask that covered what was undoubtedly a stunning set of lips. Just as his hand was about to make contact, Satoru’s eyes fluttered open.
Suguru panicked - he was absolutely caught being a creep. He figured he might as well lean into it and diverted his hand just a little to sweep Satoru’s hair back, out of his eyes. Those giant, glassy blue eyes blinked up at him, surprised at first, but then they crinkled into a wide smile.
“Are you falling in love with me?” Satoru asked, voice rough with sickness but smug and happy nonetheless. Suguru choked out a laugh.
So he didn’t just have any angel asleep on his couch - he had an angel with a horrendous personality. How much more fun.
“You are,” Satoru said, not waiting for Suguru’s reply. He sat up and stretched his arms over his head, unwinding his scarf as he yawned, “I knew you would.”
“Oh, did you?” Suguru asked, inwardly excited as Satoru shed more layers. He needed to delve into his psyche and figure out why the tidal waves of germs pouring off the other man did nothing to deter him from his attraction.
“Yup - I Florence Nightingaled you.” Satoru said smugly before breaking into a coughing fit, folding in on himself. Suguru rubbed his back and grabbed the tea off the coffee table.
“Here, drink this. And once you're done, I made you soup. Eat it so you can take your medicine.”
“You made me soup?” Satoru asked, voice small - maybe from sentiment, maybe from soreness after coughing out a lung. He slipped his mask off and brought the drink to his lips. Suguru let out a small sigh of awe that he hoped was quiet enough Satoru didn’t notice.
He was just so fucking pretty.
“I did.” Suguru replied as coolly as he could. No point inflating the other’s ego any bigger than it already was.
“I don’t know if I can eat it,” Satoru pouted, sitting up and crossing his legs so that he looked like the picture of a petulant child, “My stomach hurts.” Suguru just smiled indulgently and ran his palm along Satoru’s forehead, enjoying the way he slipped his eyes closed and leaned into the sensation.
“Hmm, well you’re burning up, Satoru,” he said as he trailed his hand down the other’s cheek before reluctantly pulling his hand away, “If you can’t eat anything, I’ll have to take you to the hospital. You need nutrients to break your fever.” Satoru huffed at his explanation but grabbed the soup anyway, taking a small sip of the broth.
“How do you know my name?” he asked after a moment, head tilted slightly to the side as his assessing eyes bore into Suguru, “We’ve never met before.”
“Oh,” Suguru laughed, standing up to move and sit down in the armchair next to the couch, “Ryomen, your downstairs neighbor, he bitches about you all the time.”
“That guy sucks ,” Satoru said, glaring, “You talked to THAT guy before you talked to me ?”
Suguru shrugged, “We go on runs at the same time.”
To be honest, Suguru also thought the guy was an asshole, but Suguru liked assholes. He preferred his friends to be a little mean - Sukuna was kind of pushing it sometimes, but it’s not like they were best friends or anything. The first time he’d gone running after he’d moved in, they’d bumped into each other on the stairs on their way out and just kept pace together. Mostly because right when they left the building and went to cross the street, they were almost run over by a sleek silver sports car. Ryomen had immediately spilled out some very choice cuss words and spent the next ten minutes of their run complaining about just how damn loud and inconsiderate that fucking pretty boy could be.
Suguru didn’t explain further though and Satoru rolled his eyes at that, muttering behind his soup so that Suguru couldn’t hear him. It was cute - even cuter when the steam from the soup made him sneeze about three times in a row.
“God, you sound like an animated field mouse.” Suguru teased, tossing a box of tissues at Satoru’s lap. The other man just nodded.
“I know.” he bemoaned before blowing his nose, right as Suguru’s phone started ringing.
“Oh shoot,” he jumped over the back of his armchair to find where he’d dropped his phone amongst the piles of papers on his desk, “Haibara? What’s up?”
“Hey Suguru!” Haibara replied, full of enthusiasm as always, “Do you mind hopping on a zoom real quick? I have a few questions about those edits you sent over - super great stuff by the way. I appreciate every critique, you’re so incredibly insightful. But… I just have some clarifying questions.”
“Sure,” Suguru replied as he stacked the manuscripts on his desk and grabbed his laptop instead, “Send me the link and I’ll be on in a few.” He hung up and turned to Satoru who was somehow eating his soup petulantly, tension taught in the line of his muscles as he slurped his soup. Suguru smiled again and slumped back against his desk.
“What’s the matter, Satoru?” he indulged.
***
The way you purr my fucking name, that’s what’s wrong, asshole. The way that you starting to work means you won’t be paying attention to me, you gorgeous monster. Touch my face again or I’ll start crying, I swear to god.
***
“Nothing,” Satoru said before he set down the soup, grabbed the medicine, inspected the pills and then threw them back, “I think my head is secretly a volcano that’s on the brink of eruption.”
“Because it’s burning up or because it hurts?”
“Both. Do you mind if I go back to sleep on your couch or do you want me to go back to mine?” Satoru asked, words betraying his actions as he pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over himself, curling up and making himself comfortable.
Suguru laughed despite knowing he shouldn't be encouraging such behavior, “I insist you stay.” he walked closer, tucking the blanket over Satoru’s feet and making sure he was as cozy as possible, “Let me know if you need anything, okay? And sorry if I’m too loud, I’ll try to be quiet.”
“It’s okay,” Satoru said, cheeks flushing red in what Suguru assumed was fever. He used it as an excuse to run a gentle hand over the other man’s forehead one more time. Satoru didn’t seem to mind as he smiled softly and burrowed further into the couch, “You’re an editor?”
“I am. Most of my workday is just sitting quietly, reading and marking, so I thought you’d be fine resting here. But I forgot how needy some authors can be close to deadlines. We’ll be quick though, I promise.”
“Hmm,” Satoru hummed, cracking one eye open to stare as he said, “Suguru takes such good care of me.”
Suguru didn’t blush at all as he rolled his eyes and moved back to the desk, “I’ll be right here. Are you okay if I open the blinds a little, let in some light?” Satoru immediately shook his head adamantly.
“ No , my head still hurts.” he said with a look that rivaled an emoticon sad face. Suguru just sighed and rolled his eyes again, cracking the blinds a little nonetheless and tossing a pillow towards Satoru’s prone form.
“Use this to cover your eyes if you need it.”
“ So mean , Suguru.” Satoru pouted but shoved the pillow over his eyes anyway. Suguru almost sighed in relief - that face was too damn distracting.
He took a deep breath and grabbed Haibara’s manuscript out of the pile, flipping through to the newest section. Suguru liked Yuu’s work - he had a strong knack for taking complicated subjects and making them palatable and accessible for lots of readers. However, he’d for some reason taken an immense liking to Suguru. This was in direct conflict with the fact that Suguru was a bit of a harsh critic. It meant a lot of puppy dog eyes and quivering lips and adamant but hard to believe insistences that Haibara was fine.
He always fixed the mistakes though - it was the only reason Suguru didn’t ask for him to be transferred to another editor. Plus, he was a cute kid.
“Hey Suguru!” Yuu’s smiling face lit up Suguru’s screen and he waved back in response.
“Hello Haibara, how are y-” Suguru was cut off by a loud noise from Satoru on the couch.
“Wait a second!” he said suddenly, sitting up from his prone position and staggering over to Suguru’s desk, “Is that Yuu?”
“Huh?” Suguru asked, “Whoa, are you okay?” Satoru draped himself over Suguru’s shoulder with a huff, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Moved too fast. A little dizzy,” he said, a weak excuse for the amount of contact he was forcing at the moment, but Suguru wasn’t complaining.
“Satoru?!” Yuu exclaimed from the screen, pulling Suguru’s attention back away from the way Satoru’s breath felt against his neck, “Is that you?” The sound of Yuu’s voice pulled Satoru out of his doze and he grinned widely at the screen.
“Yuu! What’s happening, baby? It’s been too long!” Satoru tried to sound animated but immediately leaned to the side to start coughing into his elbow.
“Goddamn,” Yuu grimaced, “You sound like death, Satoru.”
“I feel like it too.” he said, nonetheless laying his head on the top of Suguru’s head as if they were long lost friends and not strangers who had met just thirty minutes ago, “Suguru is taking care of me.” he grinned, sounding far too smug for Suguru’s liking.
“I didn’t know you two even knew each other!” Yuu smiled, tilting his head like an excited puppy.
“We don’t. We met about half an hour ago. But we’ve connected on a deep deep level. Deep in our souls -”
“Okay,” Suguru cut him off, sliding to the right so Satoru fell off of him with a soft huff, “Cut the dramatics.”
“That’s impossible. Dramatic is written into his DNA.” Yuu laughed before he suddenly looked off-screen with wide eyes.
“Is that Satoru’s voice? Are you facetiming GOJO right now?” A deep voice asked off screen and Satoru gasped loudly.
“Nanamin!?” Satoru screamed, faking a scandalized tone as he grinned. Suguru watched curiously as a man with extremely sharp cheekbones and remarkably apathetic eyes leaned down to look at the camera. He was also shirtless, water dripping down a toned torso onto the waistband of his grey joggers. Suguru let out a low whistle without thinking, slightly hypnotized and Satoru let out an annoyed noise.
“Do you know Satoru,” Nanami deadpanned, “That the last thing I want to hear in the morning after waking up in bed with my boyfriend, is your fucking voice.”
Satoru gasped again, “Nanami! What the hell? You’re naked !”
Nanami rolled his eyes and stood up straighter, so his torso was fully visible and so were the cut of his hips and the length of his thighs. It was incredibly obvious in the grey joggers that Nanami was also going commando, the outline of what Suguru thought was quite an impressive dick visible against his thigh.
Satoru let out one more genuinely scandalized gasp and slammed the laptop shut, moving his body in between Suguru and the laptop, scowling.
“You are no longer allowed to video call Haibara,” he announced, pointing an accusatory finger at Suguru. He covered his laugh with a hand, leaning his elbow against the chair rest as he stared at Satoru’s face.
“What was that, Satoru?”
“You were staring at Nanami!”
“It was kind of hard not to.”
“Don’t say that!” Satoru pouted, “You know, I have a six pack, too.” He lifted the edge of his navy blue pleated sweater up high, revealing his own tiny waist and ripped abdomen. Suguru opened his mouth to say something but unfortunately (fortunately) did find himself caught up in the view.
“Umm…” was all he managed, suddenly desperate to lick down that trail of blonde hair that disappeared into striped pajama pants.
“Yeah! See! Who cares about stupid Nanami with his giant dick - don’t you dare like him,” Satoru grabbed Suguru’s chin roughly and made him look up to meet his eyes, “Like me .”
Suguru laughed again, shocked at the sudden and passionate streak of jealousy from this beautiful man he’d never even met before. He was also more shocked by how not turned off he was. It was just immensely flattering.
Suguru was a bad person.
Without breaking eye contact, Suguru gave in and leaned forward, kissing the skin right below Satoru’s navel as he fitted his hands on his hips. Then he stood up, pressing their bodies close together. Satoru dropped his sweater instinctively to bring his hands to Suguru’s shoulders.
“I do like you, Satoru,” Suguru whispered, enjoying the flush that covered Satoru’s cheeks at the sudden intimacy, “So how about you get your cute butt back on the couch and sleep off this sickness so I can take you out on a date and prove to you exactly how much I like you and not Nanami? Hmm?”
***
Satoru didn’t know if it was fever or sudden horniness, but he was about to pass out. He wanted to lean forward and kiss the other man so damn badly it was like he’d die if he didn’t. Like the desire would literally rip him in half if he had to stop himself. He leaned forward, desperate for Suguru’s lips on his, when he had to lean back suddenly.
“Ahh.. achoo !” he sneezed, hiding his face in his elbow for a long moment as Suguru laughed. Satoru pouted at the missed moment and sat back against Suguru’s desk with a huff.
“Not funny, Suguru.”
“Oh, baby,” Suguru cooed, guiding him back to the couch with a firm hand on his lower back, “You’re just too damn cute. It’s like Hisaishi scores your sneezes.”
“ I know .” Satoru whined, curling back up on the couch and looking up at Suguru with wide eyes as he crouched down next to him. Right as Suguru was about to say something else, Satoru’s phone started ringing in his pocket, vibrating up a storm and screaming out that painful song.
It was Kento.
Satoru didn’t even bother to sit up to answer it, “What could you possibly have to say to me, you harlot?”
“Oh my fucking god, Satoru. You are the most dramatic person -”
“You were naked! And flaunting your sexy body in front of my hot neighbor, Nanamin! This is inexcusable behavior!” Satoru said, flinging around his hand for emphasis as he ignored Suguru’s laughter in the background.
“I am relaxing at my boyfriend’s apartment, Satoru. I don’t need to always have clothes on.”
“Oh please,” Satoru rolled his eyes, “Save your excuses. Your ploy didn’t work, anyway. Your rugged handsomeness has nothing on my pretty face and Suguru was not swayed by your pathetic cha… cha… ACHOO!”
He had to lower the phone to sneeze into his elbow again, grabbing a tissue off the table to wipe his nose with a few pathetic sniffles before he could lift up the phone again.
“Charms.” he finished, looking at the screen to see both Kento and Yuu leaning into frame.
“Oh my god, was that your sneeze, Satoru?” Yuu cooed, “That was so cute, I thought for a second Suguru adopted a Pomeranian.”
“I know.”
“Are you sick , Satoru?” Nanami asked, a look of shock etched on his features.
“Yes. It’s scarlet fever, I think.” Satoru huffed dramatically.
“No, it’s not.” Suguru chimed in from over by his computer, where he was lounging in his office chair and openly staring at Satoru’s conversation. Satoru just glared at him and said nothing.
“Why are you sick and hanging out with your hot neighbor who also happens to be Yuu’s editor?” Nanami asked, irritation seeping into his voice. Satoru rolled his eyes.
See? He knew Nanami would call him selfish, think he was taking advantage or whatever. Ugh, such a dweeb.
“Suguru is taking care of me.” Satoru explained as succinctly as he could.
“Awww, how sweet.” Yuu cooed, leaning his head on Kento’s shoulder even as the other man looked at Satoru with an unimpressed expression.
“You are a grown ass man, Satoru. Why are you not taking care of yourself?” Nanami asked, making Suguru chuckle from his chair, far too far away in Satoru’s opinion.
“I’ve never been sick before, Nana-meanie,” Satoru snapped, “I don’t wanna take care of myself.”
“You’re taking advantage-” Nanami started, cut off when Suguru slid in next to Satoru on the couch so he was in frame as well.
“I really don’t mind,” Suguru said, smiling, an arm thrown around Satoru’s shoulder, “He said he didn’t have medicine or food and I have plenty, so. It’s no sweat.”
Nanami stared at the screen for a long moment, contemplating, before he sighed deeply and said, “That’s very kind of you, but it’s also unnecessary. Satoru is my friend-”
“Awww, Nanamin! You love me!”
“So after I stop by the store and get him what he needs, I’ll take him off your hands.”
“Nanami, you don’t have to-”
“You’re never going to get better sitting on Suguru’s couch, wishing you were gay kissing him while he works. You need to actually rest, Satoru.” Nanami argued.
“He is right,” Suguru said, knocking his shoulder against Satoru’s when he turned his head to pout at him, “And I’ll come check on you when I can, promise.”
“You promise ?” Satoru asked, just to be petulant.
“I promise.” Suguru indulged with only a slight roll of his eyes. Satoru huffed and laid back down on the couch, popping his feet onto Suguru’s lap and staring up at Nanami on the phone, “Fine. But you’re letting me pay you back for all the groceries you get! I will inevitably feel guilty for letting you take care of me.”
“Fine.” Nanami agreed, getting up and starting to put clothes on to come and get him.
“And no telling Shoko!”
“I already texted her.”
“ Ugh. ”
***
Satoru didn’t think he’d be able to fall back asleep after all the excitement, but Suguru’s soft voice in the background was surprisingly soothing. That compounded with the sickness raging through his body and the warm blanket tucked around him made it pretty easy to drift off quickly. When he woke up again, his head was pillowed on something incredibly warm and someone was running a gentle hand through his hair. He hummed softly and opened his eyes with reluctance.
“That’s probably your friend.” Suguru said quietly, referring to the knock at the door that had woke him up.
“Hmmm, let him rot out there.” Satoru yawned, burrowing his face further into Suguru’s lap.
“You’re such a brat.” he laughed, jiggling his knee a little so that Satoru had no choice but to sit up with a groan, stretching and cracking his neck as he did so.
Suguru stood up to answer the door and Satoru watched him unashamedly as he did, reaching for the water on the coffee table. His mouth felt dry and tacky, but he wasn’t going to let it distract him from the view. Suguru had obviously changed clothes while Satoru slept. He was now in loose, buttery soft slacks and a baggy black t-shirt. It wasn’t a complicated outfit at all, but he still looked so effortlessly cool that Satoru’s stomach clenched.
“You wear a lot of black.” Satoru observed right before Suguru turned the front door handle. Suguru looked back at him like he was crazy, but he was smiling still, so Satoru didn’t mind.
“I do,” he agreed before opening the door to Nanami, perpetually annoyed, with a bag of groceries in one hand and an umbrella in the other.
“Suguru,” he greeted, “Good to finally meet you.” Suguru smiled and welcomed him in with a sweep of his arm.
“You too, Kento. Yuu says such great things about you. Your invalid is on the couch. This way.”
Satoru crossed his legs on the couch and started gathering up the clothes he’d shed in his time here. Nanami looked down at him with a tilted head, like a disapproving father.
“Gojo.”
“Nanami.”
Neither of them moved for a long moment before Nanami reached out a hand reluctantly, “Let’s go, you big baby.”
Satoru grabbed the hand and pulled himself up and off the couch, rearranging his sweater to sit right as he got up, “Thanks for picking me up, I guess.” he huffed and Nanami rolled his eyes.
“God, it’s like I’m picking up my fucking preschooler.” he complained and Satoru barked out a laugh that didn’t even turn into a cough. He was already getting better!
“Don’t try to trick me into calling you daddy, you perv-”
“Gimme your keys,” Nanami said, cutting him off, “I’ll go get some food started for you and you can say your goodbyes to your new hyperfixation,” he said, moving his fingers in an insistent beckoning motion. Satoru rolled his eyes but grabbed his keys from his jacket pocket and tossed them over nonetheless. Nanami unfortunately caught them easily and then made his way back to the front door.
“Thanks for taking care of him,” Nanami said, nodding to Suguru once more on his way out, “You must have the patience of a fucking saint.”
“Only for the really pretty ones.” Suguru replied, staring at Satoru as he leaned against the doorframe. Satoru came and stood right in front of him, socked feet against socked feet.
“I do fit that description, I suppose.”
“Hmm,” Suguru agreed, eyes roving over Satoru’s face, “You’ll probably be even prettier without all the mess around your nose.”
Satoru gasped and turned his head towards the hallway mirror, grabbing a tissue from his pocket to clean the -
There was no mess.
“Liar.” Satoru snapped, pushing Suguru’s shoulder hard and as he laughed at him, “I look amazing.”
“You do,” Suguru said through his stupidly beautiful laughs, “It’s kind of crazy how good you look, given how sick you are.”
“Yes, well,” Satoru fidgeted with the clothes he was holding as he moved back as close as he could get to Suguru, smiling smugly when the other man brought his hands back to his hips, right where Satoru couldn’t help but think his hands belonged, “Some people are just heaven’s favorites.”
“Your arrogance is staggering.”
“You still like me, though,” Satoru grinned, “You’re going to come visit me later? After work?”
“I will.” Suguru agreed easily.
“And then we’ll go out on a date this weekend?”
“If you’re feeling better.”
“I will.”
“You better.” Suguru leaned in close and placed one slow, sweet kiss on Satoru’s cheek, almost on the corner of his lips. Satoru whimpered, desperate for more, but then Suguru was the one to lean back, taking small inhales in before -
“ Aaahhhhhchoo!”
Satoru was speechless for a moment.
“Suguru, that was terrifying.”
“ I know. ”