Work Text:
First, the explosion rattled the windows of the training hall. The metallic ring echoed like a grenade burst inside a locker.
A second later, a plume of smoke curled out of the dormitory hallway and carried along with it the distinctive smell of burnt fabric.
Students ran out of the building in a scattered wave. Insults and death threats could be heard, mainly toward Gojo.
Itadori took in the view of the destruction around him. His stomach twisted as a creeping realization that Gojo had once again managed to turn a regular day into a complete disaster dawned on him.
Many students were yelling at each other, pointing fingers and arguing as they clamored away from ash and explosion.
Itadori swallowed, suddenly exhilarated and terrified at the same time. Being alive in a world with Gojo in it just always made one feel like he was in a spar he never signed up for.
Itadori reached an intersection in the courtyard stairs, panting heavily from his sprint. Fushiguro joined him from behind, expression pinched and already exasperated in a well known way.
"What the hell?" Itadori thought to himself, staring at the hallway that now looked a homicide.
Fushiguro didn't say anything. He was busy scanning the damage, his hair catching faint bits of ash drifting through the air.
And there he was, in the middle of it all. Gojo Satoru.
Gojo waved enthusiastically with a gloved hand. His uniform was lightly dusted with soot, but the blindfold on him remained crystal clear.
“Good news! Nobody died,”
A long silence ensued.
"What did you do?" Fushiguro's voice was flat and irritable.
Gojo stepped around a collapsed doorframe with the casualness of a man out for a Sunday afternoon garden walk.
“I absolutely did not blow up this hallway trying to reheat the leftover curry using cursed energy. That would be irresponsible.”
"Which means he did," Itadori said.
Gojo gasped, offended, before closing it with a grin. “Moving on, crisis response time!
In about 15 minutes, students had gathered into a crowd in the main hallway that wasn't completely destroyed by Gojo.
Itadori stood beside Fushiguro, the two of them holding duffel bags.
Fushiguro stood with his arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but school.
Itadori would continually rock on his heels to lighten the mood.
"Temporary rooms shouldn't be so bad," Itadori said, "Maybe we'll get a bigger one."
Fushiguro raised an eyebrow. "When has anything around you ever resulted in something bigger and better?"
Itadori shrugged. “True, but still.”
A staffer with dark circles under her eyes took attendance, calling out the names with weak authority.
Fushiguro shot Itadori a look. “One bed,” he said under his breath.
Itadori’s eyes widened, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Sounds fun,” he said innocently, used to the conditions of living near Gojo.
Fushiguro pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long semester.
“Okabe and Nishimiya, Room B-02.” She ran her finger down a list. “Ino and Todo, Room B-05.”
At this point, Todo says something incomprehensible about brotherhood fate, and two students promptly back away.
He flipped a page over. “Fushiguro, Megumi. Itadori, Yuuji.”
Fushiguro and Itadori stepped forward.
She hesitated, tapping the paper with the back of her pen. “Room B-07. Please check the notation beneath your assignment.”
Fushiguro’s eyebrows lowered. “Notation?” She turned the clipboard around to face them.
Below their names, two terrible words.
"Bed Count: 1".
Itadori blinked several times in confusion. "One? As in, one bed?
Fushiguro stared in hidden disbelief at the paper.
"This is a mistake," he said, low and controlled in that dangerous way he got when he was seconds away from snapping.
“It’s not,” the staffer responded, her voice exhausted. “Storage rooms were all we had left. They originally had no beds at all.”
Itadori let a small, strangled noise. He didn't know which emotion to feel in the moment. He was embarrassed and annoyed although a great deal of that was aimed at Gojo.
Then a familiar, unwelcome voice chimed in from behind.
"Ooh, Room B-07!" Gojo sang, suddenly appearing next to the two. "A cozy option, great choice."
Fushiguro slowly turned his head.
“You picked the rooms.”
Gojo dramatically placed a hand on his chest. "Megumi, of course not!" He stifled a smirk. "Why are you acting like I meddle in every aspect of your life?"
Because he did, constantly.
Itadori couldn't decide whether he should be laughing or apologizing to Fushiguro for being alive.
Fushiguro said nothing and grasped the handle of his suitcase, heading for the building he was assigned to.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Itadori hesitated to pursue him.
The secondary dorms were also much older and smaller. Each step seemed to creak loudly, accompanied by the flickering lights that were unbearable.
Room B-07 was at the end of the hall. The little plaque that held its number hung crooked and flimsy. The door was tucked into a small corner, as if there was barely room for it.
Fushiguro slid the key into the lock. A long and dragged out groan resulted when the door opened.
The door creaked ominously as it opened, showing a cramped space that smelled faintly of old wood and dust.
A single bare bulb flickered overhead, casting uneven shadows across the walls.
Itadori stepped inside and promptly tripped over the loose rug, barely catching himself in time so he wouldn't go smashing into the desk.
Fushiguro had already started scanning the room with an eye for critique, mentioning uneven floorboards and crooked shelves.
The silence that followed was mixed with resignation and amusement. One part Itadori's disaster-prone energy; one part Megumi's unspoken calculation of just how much trash could fit in a dorm this size.
It was barely even a room. There was a small window beside a wooden desk that seemed hard to fit in.
Against the wall was a full bed which the two boys had hated to see. It could have at least been a queen, or even a bunk bed. Instead, it was a small one that wasn't guaranteed to fit two teenagers in it.
Itadori stepped inside, surveying the tragically cramped space. “Oh,” he winced, thinking of sleeping here for the semester. “It’s…cozy.”
"It's a whole closet," Fushiguro said.
Itadori closed the door behind him and dropped his bag to the floor, rubbing the back of his neck.
“So, who gets the wall side?”
Fushiguro didn't turn around.
"Not you."
Itadori groaned. “Dude what, why?!”
"Because you kick in your sleep. And talk. And roll." Fushiguro replayed the moment in his head as he said it.
“That was one time.”
Itadori dramatically exhaled, plopping himself onto his suitcase.
Fushiguro set his bag down in the corner, let out a quiet exhale, and said something too low for Itadori to hear.
Itadori attempted to take a step and immediately tripped over Fushiguro's duffel bag, stumbling forward.
He caught himself against the wall with a loud thud that rattled the picture frame hanging over the bed.
Fushiguro whirled around. “Can you try not to ruin the room within the first five seconds?
“I didn’t even touch anything!” Itadori protested, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s just. small, I barely moved.”
“That’s the problem.” Fushiguro carefully lifted his suitcase and slid it underneath the bed with, making the limited space somehow feel even lesser.
“It really is just one bed,” Itadori muttered softly as if he was thinking about the potential of sleeping in the same bed with a complete opposite of himself.
Fushiguro kept quiet. He was too busy pretending that he, too, hadn't been thinking that since they stepped inside.
He shut down the thought, stood up, and began neatly folding his shirts and organizing his own shelf.
Itadori did what Fushiguro failed to do. Instead, he opened his bag, and clothes flew onto the floor as if stuffed in there for hours.
Fushiguro paused mid fold and stared at the mess. "Itadori."
“What?” Itadori reached for a hoodie and somehow knocked over his water bottle. “I’m organizing!”
Fushiguro’s eye twitched. "You're making it worse."
“It's a system!” Itadori sat back on the floor and let out an exaggerated sigh. “This is gonna be way harder than fighting curses.”
He fully agreed with him, however, chose not to give a verbal response to validate him.
When Itadori tripped over the same corner of the raised carpet for the fourth time, Fushiguro folded his arms mid chore. “Are you doing this on purpose?”
Itadori pointed accusingly at the floor. “No. It’s cursed,”
“I think you’re just careless,” Fushiguro said without looking up from whatever he was doing.
Itadori rolled his eyes and laughed to himself, smoothing out the bent part of the rug he tripped over with his foot.
At one moment, Itadori bent down to pick up a dropped sock, but Fushiguro moved at the same time, their heads nearly collided.
Fushiguro caught himself by grabbing Itadori's shoulders and steadied him.
They both blinked but neither moved. Then stepped back once the realization hit.
Fushiguro cleared his throat. “Don’t do that again.”
“I didn’t mean to!”
Their faces were both slightly pink, but no one acknowledged it.
When they finally finished unpacking, they stood in front of the full bed they had been avoiding all day.
"So," Itadori started, "I mean, we can take turns? Like alternate nights?
“No.” Fushiguro crossed his arms. “You’re sleeping on the floor.
"But it's wood!" Itadori gestured to the group.
“There’s a spare blanket.”
“That blanket is like air!” Itadori held it up. It was thin enough to read through. “This won’t keep me warm! This won’t keep a hamster warm!”
Fushiguro didn't look sympathetic. "I think you'll survive."
Itadori pouted dramatically. “I thought you cared about me.” He said it as a tease, not meaning for it to be taken seriously.
“I do,” Fushiguro said, barely above normal tone. “Which is why you’re not taking the bed. You’d fall off.
"I never fall off beds." Itadori added, his convincing not getting any further.
Fushiguro raised an eyebrow. "You fell off the training mat this morning."
“That was different!”
Fushiguro turned away to hide a faint smirk.
They both sat around the room and did their own things. Fushiguro watched Itadori laugh at something stupid on his phone.
For one, reckless second he imagined a life where they weren’t sorcerers.
A life where sharing a bed wasn’t an accident and one where this type closeness was allowed.
As the sun neared setting, a chill draft must have leaked through the cracks around the windows. The dorm seemed even smaller in the poor light.
Itadori sat on the floor, under the thin blanket, staring into the ceiling.
Fushiguro climbed into the bed, lying cleanly on his side. “Goodnight,” he said, voice tight.
"Mmhm." Itadori mumbled, shuffling and trying to find a comfortable spot on the floor.
"Ow." he said five seconds later.
Fushiguro opened one eye. "What happened?"
"I turned over and hit the corner of your nightstand." Itadori rubbed his side.
Fushiguro sighed, "You're hopeless."
A few more seconds passed. Itadori shifted. A second thump was followed by a groan.
Fushiguro sat up. “You’re going to hurt yourself before morning.”
“I’m trying to sleep!” Itadori complained into the darkness of the room.
Seconds later, Fushiguro slid off the bed.
Itadori blinked up at him. “What are you doing?”
Fushiguro picked up a pillow off the floor, threw it onto the bed once more, and said “Move.”
"What?" Itadori squinted, propping himself up on his elbows.
Fushiguro shifted to push against the wall, making space. “You’re sleeping up here,
“But you just said-“
“I know what I said, just get up here.”
It was then that Itadori got off the floor onto the mattress reluctantly and Fushiguro became more aware of the fact that now they were sharing the bed.
Even though they weren't touching at all, it felt very close. Itadori lied, looking uncomfortable and faced away from the other next to him.
The room was full of darkness, and silence settled heavy upon them.
“Thanks Megumi,” Itadori whispered. Fushiguro said nothing. Still, Itadori could have sworn he saw the flash of a smile before Fushiguro had turned away.
Itadori stared at the ceiling, tracing patterns in the shadows.
His mind replayed the day he had: the curse and the teamwork, every little awkward, quiet moment with Megumi.
He felt he was walking a tightrope between panic and happiness, unsure whether to laugh, groan, or merely lie frozen.
Somehow, the night made it worse. He could feel Megumi's presence like a solid weight, grounding him, and he didn't want to move. Not that he could.
He knew it was going to be a long night. But maybe not the worst.
~———~———~
Hours ticked by, and the air conditioner buzzed on, combining its hum with the sound of cars whizzing by outside.
Itadori finally cut the silence.
“Megumi?”
Fushiguro didn't move. "What?"
“I can’t sleep,” Itadori rolled over to lie on his left side.
“Well, that sucks, because I can,” Fushiguro dragged a hand down his face and kept his eyes shut.
Itadori groaned into his pillow. “I'm stuck, and it's like I'm going to fall off.
“You won’t.” Fushiguro was barely awake.
A thud shook the room barely thirty seconds later.
“Ow, okay I fell.” Itadori stayed there on the ground, unmoving.
Fushiguro rolled over and flicked the lamp light on to see Itadori sprawled out on the carpet next to the bed. “You’re unbelievable.”
"You pushed me!" Itadori lifted his head.
"I didn't touch you," Fushiguro stared at him for a long while, until finally he sighed and reached his hand out.
Itadori grabbed it, Fushiguro pulling him back into bed and moving further toward the wall so there was more space.
Itadori’s arm flopped over the edge of the bed, swinging slightly with each shallow breath.
Fushiguro noticed the small rising and falling of his chest yet tried to ignore the warmth expelling from him.
They did, at long last, drift off again somehow.
Itadori still sat on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging off it. Fushiguro had turned away from him, his face almost pressed to the wall.
Deep in the night, Itadori felt his body's weight and warmth being pressed down on.
Fushiguro, half conscious and half dreaming, acted instinctively. His arm was wrapped around Itadori's waist, pulling him close.
He pressed his forehead against the back of Itadori's shoulder and was dragging him closer by the minute.
Itadori opened his eyes then to see what the pressure was.
Eventually, he came to realize that he was currently being straddled by Fushiguro.
He didn't dare to even breathe or move a single muscle. Itadori slowly inhaled and looked down at Fushiguro, who was completely unaware of what he was unconsciously doing.
~———~———~
Sunlight shone through half-open curtains. Fushiguro blinked awake first, eyelids heavy.
Strange amount of warmth, he felt-though unable to tell what it was until his sight was back.
His arm was fully wrapped around Itadori's waist, a leg thrown over his thigh. Fushiguro was all but lying atop him.
"Megumi, are you awake?" Itadori had been waiting to ask him.
Fushiguro grasped the opportunity to tear himself from Itadori, promptly getting up in embarrassment. He acted like he touched a hot stove, sat up, and pressed his back to the wall.
"How long was I doing that for?" Fushiguro asked, concerned for absolutely no reason. Itadori didn't mind the proximity, he just knew that Fushiguro wouldn't like it.
"Like," Itadori recalled the moment he first felt Fushiguro spooning him. "The whole night." He decided on saying.
“I was asleep.” Fushiguro felt his face flush red.
Itadori pushed himself upright, and his hair was going in all different directions. “I woke up and you were wrapped around me! Like a-“
He was cut off. “Stop talking,” Fushiguro covered his face with one hand.
They both sat there quietly, Itadori rolled over but staying lying down. Fushiguro hit his head against the wall, closing his eyes briefly.
A gentle draft slipped through the cracked window, brushing against their skin.
The movement of air carried the faint sound in the room neighboring them.
The world felt alive outside, but inside was their small sanctuary.
“I swear,” Itadori groaned into his pillow, “I’m never going to be able to get up. Can I just stay here while you do the mission?”
Megumi didn’t even look at him. “No. Get up.” Itadori ignored him.
Megumi grabbed the blanket and yanked it off him in one swift motion. Itadori made a strangled noise like he’d been stabbed.
Fushiguro got off the bed and tugged his towel from the dresser, making his way to the bathroom.
Itadori sat and watched as the door was pulled open then quickly slammed shut by Fushiguro.
It was most likely to avoid the embarrassment that he carried from last night.
Itadori remained on the bed the whole time, staring at the wall. His mind was a mess.
Twenty minutes later, Fushiguro stepped out with damp hair and fresh clothes.
Itadori didn't say a word and instead stared at him weirdly. He didn't realize just how strange that was until he was called out over it.
"What." Fushiguro asked in a clipped tone.
“I didn’t say anything,”
Fushiguro let out a sigh and twitched his eye. He picked up his bag from the floor and kicked a singular shoe out of his way.
He opened the front door, then turned around to face Itadori. “Are you coming?”
Itadori rose instinctively. “Coming where?”
"To the cafeteria. To eat breakfast." Fushiguro stated it as though it was a question.
"Wait, let me get dressed first," Itadori quickly got to his feet and opened a drawer to fetch a clean shirt.
Fushiguro stepped out of the room, leaving the door open. “I'll just meet you there.” He said, then shut the door.
Itadori let out a deep sigh, the hand that was on the handle of the drawer staying there.
He stretched, yawned, then flopped back against the bed in dramatic exhaustion.
Things between him and Fushiguro were always awkward, but now they were double that amount.
~———~———~
Fushiguro managed to make his way to the cafeteria, grabbed a tray, and headed over to the lunch line.
Itadori finally followed; he had fixed up his hair and changed into another outfit. “Megumi, there you are!” he called out and picked up a tray.
Fushiguro moved to the side, allowing Itadori a place in the lineup and didn't say a thing.
Kugisaki spotted the two and waved across the cafeteria. “Hey! Love birds!”
Fushiguro walked up to Kugisaki and clamped a hand over her mouth, with Itadori following behind. “Itadori and I are not lovers.”
Kugisaki pulled his hand off her face. "I meant love birds because you guys always eat together." She said, scoffing. "But alright, defensive much,
Fushiguro and Itadori sat down at the lunch table opposite to Kugisaki.
“You two are acting weird,” Kugisaki narrowed her eyes at them. “Did something happen?”
Itadori coughed and cleared his throat.
“No,” Fushiguro answered for him.
~———~———~
The two of them, after eating their breakfast, met Gojo, who was acting like a responsible adult, but holding the clipboard upside down.
“All right, children!” he said brightly. “You two have a simple recon mission today. No direct combat unless necessary. Don’t get cursed, don’t die, don’t kiss-“
"What?" they both said in unison, catching their attention.
Gojo blinked innocently behind his blindfold. "I wasn't going to say 'kiss each other.' Interesting you two assumed that."
Neither of them responded after that. Itadori held his breath. Fushiguro exhaled roughly.
Gojo handed them the mission file. “Anyway! You'll be gone all afternoon so work together. And, maybe talk about your feelings for each-“
"Can we go?" Fushiguro interrupted through clenched teeth.
Gojo smiled sweetly. “Have fun!
The recon was supposed to be simple. All they had to do was find the curse, observe, and report.
But of course, nothing with Itadori and Fushiguro was ever simple.
The inside of the warehouse was much darker than they had imagined it would be. Crates placed at random were strewn over the floor and dusty. Shadows moved ominously along the walls.
Itadori whispered, "It feels like something's watching us." He looked around the room, making sure nothing would jump out at him.
Fushiguro quietly summoned a Shikigami. “It's here,”
A curse crawled from the ceiling above them. It was tall and its jointed limbs bent like broken metal.
It shrieked at them. Fushiguro reacted instantly but the curse struck fast, slamming into a support pillar that cracked and collapsed.
The curse screeched as it plummeted from the ceiling, its joints bending in unnatural angles.
Fushiguro jumped forward instinctively, forming his Shikigami in swift motions. Then Itadori's instincts kicked in.
He barreled into the side of the creature with enough force to stagger it. “Watch it, I could’ve hit you!” Itadori yelled, eyes wide.
Megumi's face was unreadable. "Concentrate," he said harshly, grasping Itadori's wrist as the curse attacked again.
Their hands brushed, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to the tension between them.
There was an explosion of dust into the air. Fushiguro stumbled as debris fell around them, until Itadori caught his wrist and pulled him back into safety just as a huge crate crashed down precisely where Fushiguro had been standing.
The curse’s presence distorted the space, making the room feel even more confining despite its size.
Darkness moved unnaturally along the walls, bending around boxes and flickering in their corners of vision.
The warehouse carried a sense of expectancy and seemed to be frozen in the moment along with the two boys.
Fushiguro's breath caught but Itadori still didn't let go of his wrist.
"You okay?" Itadori asked, concerned.
Fushiguro stared at his hands. His voice softened despite himself. “Yes. I’m fine,”
Itadori let him go after squeezing gently.
Fushiguro's heart danced at this. But he brushed the feeling away before he could register it.
Again, the curse hissed from the shadows. Fushiguro stepped forward and Itadori followed right next to him. They were ready to conclude what had been started.
And for the first time all day, their movements were perfectly in sync.
~———~———~
The walk to B-07 seemed like an eternity and utterly draining.
Not entirely, as they were still hurt from before, but Itadori was limping dramatically all the way there.
But it was because neither of them wanted to enter their tiny dorm that they had to share a bed in. If last night had never happened, they would both be cool with sharing the room.
Itadori had continued to glance at Megumi, who always appeared so calm and collected. Even now, after the curse had almost smashed them to pieces.
He once wondered whether Megumi ever lets himself feel things like fear or if that part of him was locked away.
Being with Megumi somehow made the terrifying moments feel bearable.
Itadori let out a slow breath, deciding not to mention it aloud. Megumi would never understand anyway.
Without thinking, Fushiguro pushed open the door and held it for Itadori.
Itadori immediately faceplanted onto the bed with a grunt. “I can’t feel my spine,
Fushiguro threw his case beside the nightstand, letting out a sigh. “You say that every mission.” He kicked his shoes into a random corner.
“That’s because every mission, my spine is always targeted.” Itadori said into the pillow, voice muffled.
Fushiguro struggled not to look at him, but his eyes kept drifting.
Toward Itadori's ruffled pink hair pressed into the mattress, especially the strip of skin that was exposed when his shirt rode up.
It was character development he never asked for.
He forced his attention to the arrangement of his gear. Which wasn’t necessary, but he would have combusted if not.
They both sat horizontally on the full bed so there was more space. Itadori leaned his head against Megumi’s shoulder.
“Don’t move,” he whispered and settling his head in the crook of Fushiguro’s neck. Fushiguro listened and didn’t move.
He wanted to, but felt like he couldn’t. There was no point in pushing Itadori away from him anyway.
The knock that suddenly shook the whole front door came when the silence had just started getting peaceful.
Fushiguro knew who that was. “No. Don’t answer it.”
Itadori got up and opened it anyway.
Gojo stood in the doorway with his shoulder leaning against the frame, clutching a plastic grocery bag. "Wow, just look at my two favorite students!"
“What do you want,” Fushiguro's voice dropped five degrees.
Gojo set the bag down on the counter beside the front door. “I brought snacks!”
Itadori looked up at the word snacks.
Gojo wiggled his eyebrows. “So, no breakdowns? No dramatic confessions? No making ou-“
Fushiguro slammed the door shut in his face as hard as he could.
“Rude!” Gojo hollered from the hallway. “And I brought seaweed chips!”
Itadori snorted. “I hate him,” he said, laying down on his back.
Sighing heavily, Fushiguro said, "Not as much as I do."
They were getting ready for bed in the most awkward way possible. The silence was so painful it almost physically hurt.
Itadori had been lying down for the last hour. He was against the wall, straight on his stomach and facedown.
Fushiguro wanted to sleep on the wall side, but he said to himself he would just push Itadori out of the way before getting into bed.
He turned all the lights off but left the lampshade on the nightstand. "Itadori, move." Fushiguro stood over Itadori, who was knocked out.
No response, not even a stir.
Fushiguro leaned over further and nudged his shoulder. “You were awake three minutes ago,” He sighed, still waiting for an answer.
Itadori remained silent, sleeping as if he were a peaceful corpse.
Fushiguro gave in and climbed into the bed carefully, trying not to disturb him.
But the mattress shifted, and Itadori rolled over next to him like a magnet, right towards Fushiguro.
The back of Itadori's head knocked against Fushiguro's shoulder. He didn't wake up, didn't even flinch, he just lied there.
But Fushiguro couldn't simply shove him off. In truth, he didn't exactly want to. Instead he exhaled slowly and flipped onto his side, feeling Itadori unconsciously pressing into his back.
Fushiguro slowly woke up in the morning, oblivious to his surroundings. The first thing he had noticed was the weight all over his body.
He could feel the steady rise and fall of Itadori's chest against him, the faint warmth that emanated from him.
For no reason he could understand, Fushiguro felt his shoulders relax. The usual tightness and constant awareness of boundaries blurred just enough to let a fleeting sense of calm creep in.
He couldn't explain why he allowed himself this. Why he let Itadori lean against him like a living weight he didn't have to push away.
Maybe it was the quiet of the dawn or the undeniable trust Itadori radiated, even in his sleep. For the first time in a while, Fushiguro didn't feel the need to fight against something he couldn't name.
He realizes Itadori is wrapped around him, like how he was last night. One arm is around Fushiguro's stomach, and a leg hooked over his.
His face was buried into Fushiguro’s chest, as if that was the normal way to sleep.
But Fushiguro didn't feel a wave of embarrassment wash over him; he wasn't even startled. He stared for a moment.
Instead of pushing Itadori off, Fushiguro moved closer. He doesn’t think of the whys and just lets Itadori rest comfortably around him.
Fushiguro hesitates for a moment, then raises his own hand, laying it delicately against Itadori’s back; his face grows hot.
He closes his eyes again, just for a second. For the first time in a while he doesn't feel tense or out of place.
This quiet was short lived, loud knocks at the door were heard for the thousandth time in the week.
Of course, only one man knocks like a SWAT team trying to raid a house.
Gojo. “Rise and shine, students!” He sang happily. “Time to wake uuupp!”
Fushiguro deeply regretted every single decision that had made this situation possible. He tried to pull away, but the sleeping Itadori hugged him tighter.
“Yuuji.” Fushiguro attempts to jostle out of his grip. “Yuuji, wake up,”
He moves the tiniest bit, but nothing happens. Gojo only begins to knock harder.
“Hope you're not indecent in there!”
"Do not open the door," Fushiguro projects toward the hall, still trying to get Itadori to wake up.
And without another word from Gojo, he kicks the door open with the widest smile on his face.
Fushiguro is pressed against the front wall of the bed, with Itadori wrapped around him like the love of his life.
Gojo gasps theatrically. “Oh. My gosh,”
That was enough to wake Itadori up. He heard his teacher's voice and instantly jumped up and off of Fushiguro.
“I leave you two alone for one night and you become a couple?” Gojo puts his hand over his mouth.
Fushiguro snatches a pillow from the bed and throws it at Gojo. “Get. Out.”
Gojo bursts out laughing, like he's won the lottery. “Look at you two, I should charge admission!”
“Gojo, get out.” Fushiguro got up from the bed.
Gojo raises his hands and backs out of the room, still grinning. “I’ll go make breakfast, by that I mean I’ll order something expensive on the school account! Okay lovebirds, continue whatever-“
“Gojo!” Itadori chimes in, covering his face with a blanket.
The door finally clicked shut.
The morning settled into a strange quiet after Gojo retreated from their room.
They sat there for a few moments, each lost to their own private thoughts. Sunlight slid languidly across the floor, lighting dust motes that danced in the stillness.
Itadori began to fiddle with the seam of his sleeve, looking over at Megumi every so often, not knowing whether to say something more or keep the fragile peace.
Megumi's hands, still tense, rested on his knees and felt light, strangely compared with the tension before. Something was slightly understood in that suspended, wordless space by both of them.
Neither Megumi nor Itadori knew what to say because whatever changed in that night lingered on in the room.
They weren't quite ready to talk about it, and maybe they didn't have to.
For now, it was enough that Megumi didn't pull away, and Itadori didn't apologize, and the space between them felt a little less like coincidence and a little more like choice.
Whatever this was and what it was becoming, they'd eventually figure out together.