Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fushiguro Megumi enjoys his coffee black.

All of that extra sugar and sweetener mutes the authentic coffee taste. Maybe his opinion is biased. After all, he’d grown up around Gojo’s massive sweet tooth—which is frankly an understatement. His guardians kitchen permanently smells like melted candy and frosting. It’s nauseating.

So, Megumi can appreciate a nice bitter cup of hot, black coffee.

The fact that it’s the quickest caffeinated beverage the baristas can make is a bonus, too.

Megumi grabs the paper cup from the girl at the counter, nearly spilling it in the process.

He mumbles a quick thanks before a few murmured apologies follow close behind as he weaves his way through the café.

Outside, the streets are already buzzing. People walk side-by-side along the pavement in small stretches, much to Megumi’s annoyance. Seriously, must people take up the entire sidewalk?

He catches brief murmurs of conversations as he cruises by, only stopping when he meets the crowded opening of the intersection. With an impatient scowl, he presses the button on the stoplight and waits for the signal that he can cross.

The ludicrous little hand mocks him, instructing him to stay put as cars whoosh past. Megumi takes a brisk sip of the tastefully bitter creation, then curses when the heat bites his tongue. He’s already running late, he's behind on his rent, and now this stupid coffee wants to have its share of poking his patience? The day has only just begun and yet it desires to bite Megumi in the ass.

Finally, the little hand becomes the frozen image of a walking person. He breathes a sigh of relief as he pushes his way across the crosswalk. Yes, pushes. He has to push through the large swarm charging at him as the one behind threatens to swallow him whole.

People have no decency nowadays. They’re apparently just dandy when it comes to blindly ramming into others. His verdict is proven right when a shoulder bumps into his own.

It sloshes his coffee and he has to snap a hand over the cover to avoid a depressing puddle of brown on the pavement. Megumi is quick to scowl at the perpetrator—who pays him no mind and continues walking as if he hadn't even noticed at all—before Megumi straightens and continues on, clutching his cup tighter.

Although, of course, the morning is still fresh and he has yet to actually spill said coffee, so naturally, he rams into what feels like a damn wall of steel.

It's instantly knocked clean out of his hand, almost like it was never meant to exist there in the first place. It hits the pavement with a dull, wet-sounding, plop.

Megumi doesn't waste his time trying to suppress another curse.

He clenches his fist, itching to tell off whatever asshole the universe sent this time to ruin his morning. But Megumi doesn't, because he can’t formulate anything coherent when he looks up and meets the culprit face-to-face.

The color pink stands out to him first. The stranger's hair is so bright and abstract that it should look out of place in the gray-wash of the city, but it doesn't. It blends well with the morning color of the sky as a deep brown undercut settles just below. A few of the sunrise-pink pieces drift in different directions as the October breeze blows by, creating a soft-textured look. It almost makes Megumi want to reach out and decide that for himself.

He immediately redirects his attention to the stranger’s features instead, which is also a mistake. A pair of honey-filled eyes are blown wide in surprise and staring back at him. They remind Megumi of winter days spent snuggling close to the fireplace of a cozy log cabin, surrounded by the browns of wood and comfort. A pale scar rests near one of them, dragging down a few inches from his eyebrow to the inner space of his cheek near the bridge of his nose. On the other side of his face, sits another at the edge of his parted lips.

The color almost matches his hair, only a shade or two darker. They’re slightly chapped, his lower one carrying a small bruise and a thin split that looks recent. Only then does Megumi come to the realization that the mouth is moving.

Sound and awareness instantly rush back into place as the man speaks. “Hello? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Like music to Megumi’s ears, the stranger's voice sounds just as hospitable as his eyes. The soothing tone stands out, even in the noise of the busy intersection.

Right. They're in the middle of an intersection.

Megumi has no idea how long he’s been captivated by this stranger. Luckily, it couldn't have been too protracted because people still brush by, scurrying to each side of the sidewalk before the little timer threatens to run out and allow cars to take their place. Although, somehow, it feels like it’s been an eternity.

“Seriously, I didn't hit your head, did I?!” the man asks, voice laced with concern. ”I’m so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going!”

Megumi opens his mouth to reply, but a resounding bark interrupts him. His gaze darts down to discover two, fairly large dogs—one white, and one black—wagging their fluffy tails and happily sticking out their tongues. Red leashes run from their collars to the man’s hand.

“Are these your dogs?” Megumi blurts out.

The stranger appears confused for a few seconds. He furrows his brows as he scans Megumi’s features, likely still assessing for a concussion, then finally decides he’s in the clear with a shake of his head, looking down at the two unbothered creatures below. “These guys? Nah, I was just taking them to the vet.”

Megumi attempts a casual hum, still caught in the distracting complexion in front of him. “Where did they come from then?”

“I rescued them from a culvert. They were a bit shaken up at first, but they seem fine.” The stranger sucks the inside of his cheek, a bit doubtful now. “Although, I’m obviously not a vet…so I don’t really know.”

He then rubs the back of his neck and smiles in a humble manner. “They're strays, so I was gonna bring them to get checked out, since nobody else is going to.”

Megumi gives the guy another once-over that's thankfully much quicker this time, noticing his uniform now that he isn’t smitten by his fetching features.

Dark turnout pants sit low on his hips, reflective bands circling the cuffs. The matching jacket hangs open, unfastened, and reveals a fitted white T-shirt underneath that's covered in fresh, muddy stains. The cotton slightly strains across his chest and shoulders, leaving little doubt that this guy is fit.

A firefighter.

Megumi swallows. “You’re going the wrong way,” he states, looking back up.

“What?”

“The clinic is the other way,” Megumi repeats. “I work there.”

“Really?”

Megumi barely has time to roll his eyes at the stranger's cluelessness before a shrill HONK startles him. He grimaces when he discovers that the timer has run out and the stoplight is now green. More cars honk, impatient and eager to go.

A calloused hand abruptly takes his own and lurches him forward before he can even think, leading him across the white lines of the crosswalk.

Megumi allows himself to be hauled behind in a confused state, dazed by the realization that his and the stranger's fingers are interlocked. They step over the curb, brushing past the group of people waiting for the next signal, only this time, the swarm of bodies separates.

Megumi should be aggravated by this, considering his own battle merely minutes prior, but he finds himself intrigued instead.

The crown of pink hair effortlessly dips in gratitude as people step to the side and allow them to pass with easy smiles. It's as if the stranger is a beam of light peeking past a stretch of clouds, the crowded sky of people shifting to let him through and shine his solace down onto the earth.

Megumi looks down at their coalesce of fingers. Warmth from the stranger's skin seeps into his own, crawling up his arm until it sits in his head, melting his brain of any coherent thoughts.

Megumi quickly shakes his head. He needs to get a damn hold of himself before he joins his coffee as a puddle of useless sludge on the pavement.

Megumi retracts his hand and halts his pace to a standstill.

The absence compels the stranger to stop as well, the reactions of the two dogs not too far behind. They pant with their tongues peeking out, snuggling against the stranger's legs as he stares back at Megumi for a few, awkward seconds.

He then breaks the lull with a smile. “Sorry for pulling you along like that. I just didn't want you to get run over,” he declares, dragging a hand across the short hairs of his undercut. “It wouldn't be very noble of me if I spilled your coffee and let you get hit by a car.”

Megumi crosses his arms, releasing the cage of butterflies in his stomach. “You nearly tore my arm off.”

The man winces. “Again, sorry…I tend to think before I act sometimes.”

“You mean, act before you think?”

He makes a loose ‘o’ shape with his mouth before saying, “Oh, right—that! That's what I meant.”

Megumi rolls his eyes with a scoff, turning his attention toward the two dogs, now resting on their bellies at the stranger's feet. “I can take them off your hands for you.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal. Like I said, I work at the clinic, so I’m heading there anyway.”

The man tilts his head, slowly scanning his frame. “Are you a veterinarian?”

“More like a student in training,” Megumi replies, refusing to drown in those pools of honey. “I’m lucky my boss allows internships.”

The stranger lights up that. “Ah, I’m sure,” he says. “I know him—he’s a real solid guy.”

Megumi huffs an accusing breath. “If you’re so acquainted with the owner, shouldn’t you know where the clinic is?”

“I do know where the clinic is,” the stranger shoots back with a defensive chuckle. “I was just going to stop at the station and change out of uniform first. Wouldn't want to walk into that super clean place smelling like dried pond water.”

Megumi snorts at ‘super clean.’ He’s positive the guy means sterile, but the phrasing fits his buoyant character better. “How considerate of you,” he jokes.

The grin pulling at the stranger's lips grows wider, completely unaware of how it blinds it Megumi, who resists the urge to bask in its light. It's like being engulfed by a myriad of suns.

He swallows, suddenly aware of how dry his mouth is. “Uh—so, the dogs…”

The stranger blinks at him before glancing at the two furrballs below, who now happily roll around on the pavement. He laughs at the sight while crouching down to drag his hands through each of their thick coats.

“This nice man is going to take you two to get checked out, would you like that?” he sweetly coos. He scratches behind their ears, chuckling when they lick his hands. “Uh-huh, I thought so! Are you going to be good boys for Mr. veterinarian?”

Megumi snaps his head to the side, desperate to conceal the heat rapidly washing over his face. Suddenly that stoplight over there is very fascinating. The baby-talk continues as he bites the inside of his cheek. He’s attractive, charismatic, and good with animals? Fuck.

Only when the soft cooing dies down does Megumi dare turn back. He’s surprised to find the man now standing only a half-foot away, extending the red handles forward.

“I really appreciate you taking them. I’d offer to walk with you, but I do need to change and hurry back out there. Always more dogs and damsels in distress to save,” he laughs at his own joke, but it settles once he realizes Megumi isn't laughing with him.

He’s probably misinterpreted Megumi’s inability to speak as disapproval rather than the fact that he’s still trying to recover from colliding into a seamless combination of presence and physical features.

Megumi stands strong as a personality-first type of guy, considering looks as a mere bonus, and it just so happens that this firefighter is the perfect package of both.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” the stranger says, pressing the red handles into Megumi’s frozen palm.

Megumi tightly grips the nylon once it’s intertwined with his fingers, using it as an anchor to prevent his mind from drifting further out to sea. “Yeah, uh—right.”

The man nods at him before he reaches down to give the dogs one last pat on their heads. “I mean what I said. Don’t be causing any more trouble!” he says with a grin, dodging their soppy kisses.

Megumi watches in awe once more. He begins to think that just maybe the universe is cutting him some slack for once, or better yet, that this is the big plan that's been waiting for him all along.

He’s suddenly much less sour about the coffee he’d lost to the pavement. If spilling it is what led to this, he can live with the loss.

Wiping the saliva off the back of his hands on his pants, the man smiles. “If you have any questions, you can call or stop by the station. I’d be happy to help out or give descriptions of the incident if you need it.”

They lock eyes for what feels like an eternity, until Megumi realizes that it’s his turn to speak.

“Yeah, I’ll…call if I need anything,” he finally chokes out.

“Great! Thanks again!”

And just like that, the man he'd once been convinced only exists in his dreams is slipping away, and he's right back to the shitty morning that awaits his moment of good fortune to end. He hadn’t asked for a number, hadn’t even asked for anything at all. He could've at least tried for a fucking name.

As if his pleas have been answered, the stranger veers around, ambling backward as he gives Megumi an enthusiastic farewell.

Do it.

Call out, tell him to come back.

Ask for his name, his number—anything.

Megumi simply waves back with a weak lift of his hand, the dogs excitedly tugging on their leashes in the other. The man flashes that melting smile once more, then to Megumi’s dismay, spins around and continues to drift away.

Megumi can only dumbly watch as the stranger waves to a cluster of passersby on the sidewalk, accompanied by cheerful greetings and good mornings. Like moths to a lamp, they return the warmth, drawn in for the brief few seconds it’s offered before the stranger moves on.

With a deep sigh of regret, Megumi turns to the dogs. They’ve stopped tugging by now and stare back at him almost pitifully, all wide-eyed and quiet, as if they understand just how pathetic he is. “Don’t look at me like that,” he says. “I know, I know.”

The remaining trek to the clinic certainly isn't as eventful. Megumi stops for a few strangers buzzing to pet the adorable furrballs that have been passed onto him, but that's about it. No more handsome firefighters knocking the coffee out of his hands—not that he even has one to spill anymore.

It’s sitting in a puddle off in the distance, his pride not too far behind.

He reluctantly frees the whole ordeal plaguing his mind as the familiar lobby comes into focus through the glass. Per usual, the bell chimes when he greets his second home. One of the techs at the front desk perks up, immediately spotting the dogs prancing at his side.

“Awh, where’d you pick these two up?” she asks, already gushing as she holds her face in her hands.

“Long story,” Megumi replies with a bleak sigh.

He leads them to the desk and allows the tech to give them some treats from the glass jar, offered to every furry patient of theirs. They happily scarf them down, greedily pleading Megumi for more once they're finished.

He can't help but chuckle at their precious puppy-eyes. “You’ll get more later. Let’s get you two checked out for injuries first, hm?”

They wag their tails, seemingly content for now as Megumi guides them to the back.

In the time he’s worked at the clinic, he’s begun to embrace it as a second home. Well, at least as much as a building full of non-stop animal noise and the smell of wet fur could be considered a second home. He spends most of his days here when he isn't in class, or miserably studying at his apartment—which he’s about to lose if he doesn't catch up on rent or find a compatible roommate within the next week.

A few people have stopped by for interviews, and maybe he was being too picky, but none of them qualified as even a decent fit. They were all either fellow college students who hadn't bothered to sober up before setting foot into what Megumi considered sacred space, or older men that made him uncomfortably shudder the second he saw them.

Although, he needs to come to a section soon. He doesn't have the time nor the luxury of picking and choosing if he wants to keep a roof over his head.

Megumi unclaspes each leash and guides the dogs across an open gate that almost resembles a playpen on the other side, letting them settle down there while he goes to change into his scrubs.

One of them whines, causing him to glance back with a fond look. “I’ll be right back, just sit tight for me, okay?”

They wag their tails in reply before they’re nipping at each other in a teasing play-fight. Megumi chuckles as he pushes open the door, nearly whacking a figure on the other side that’s presumably about to enter.

“Fuck—sorry,” Megumi mumbles.

“It’s alright Fushiguro, it’s just me.”

Megumi scrunches his face in shame when he looks up. ‘Just me’ is his boss, Choso, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

He studies Megumi with those pensive, perpetually tired eyes, surrounded by a dark discoloration earned from lack of sleep and countless hours spent in the clinic. The tattoo of a thick, black line rests just below on his pale skin and stretches across the bridge of his nose.

As always, two pigtails sit on either side of his head, pulled up from his dark hair. It's certainly a choice, but at this point, Megumi can’t picture him any other way.

“I heard we have new guests, is that correct?” Choso asks. He hands Megumi a chocolate cookie from the plastic container in his hands, one of many flavors he’s constantly bringing into the clinic to share with his employees.

Megumi typically prefers savory over sweet, but he can never turn down one of Choso’s cookies. He doesn't know where the endless supply comes from, but he honestly doesn't care.

“Yeah, ran into some stranger on my way here and took them off his hands,” Megumi shrugs in reply and takes the cookie, deliberately leaving out the part where this stranger had been the most stunning person he’s ever seen, and the reason he’d nearly been late to work while quarreling with the urge to pay a visit to the fire station instead.

“Hm,” Choso hums, a bit skeptical, but he doesn't press. “If they were able to walk here, I assume there's nothing serious. Are they strays?”

Megumi nods. “Does the shelter have any room for them?”

Choso falls silent with a diminutive scrunch of his eyebrows.

Megumi will be the first to admit that reading micro-expressions isn't his strongest skill, but Choso is just another level of unreadable. He houses a straight face 95% of the time, as if he stores his emotions at the top of a tall shelf, one that only a select few have the ladder to reach.

It's clear a day that it belongs to his girlfriend and his younger brother. Megumi’s only ever witnessed the studious man precariously lift his lips when they’re center stage of conversation.

Yuki comes in pretty often. She’s tall, loud, and mildly unnerving, but nice overall. Megumi’s seen her in the clinic plenty of times, usually blurting the excuse of: ‘just dropping off lunch,’ or ‘forgetting my keys,’ though he’s pieced together that she’s just rather clingy.

The brother, however, exists only in Megumi’s imagination, fueled by Choso’s running commentary. Apparently, he’s usually busy with demanding work hours of his own to stop by when Megumi’s around. It only encourages Choso’s ability to go on about him for 10 minutes straight without taking a single breath.

It’s honestly impressive.

Megumi has never particularly liked to partake family talk whilst at work, so he’s perfected the art of nodding at the right moments and keeping his attention on whatever task is in front of him as Choso boasts his ear off. As a result, he doesn’t actually have much knowledge of the brother, despite hearing his name almost daily.

He’s fairly certain he would’ve seen a dozen pictures by now if his boss understood how to use modern technology for anything other than radiographs or other veterinary equipment.

More often than not, Choso squints at a phone like it’s some sort of alien scripture.

“I’m unsure. They’ve been decently packed lately,” Choso finally explains. He blinks a few times, which Megumi can only infer is a grievous expression. “They usually fill up fast when the weather begins to cool.”

Megumi gnaws on his bottom lip. A packed shelter typically implies they begin euthanizing to create room for new arrivals. Megumi looks over his shoulder at the playpen. And these two: older, and have likely been strays for a while, wouldn’t get long before their chances ran out.

“We’ll figure something out. Change into your scrubs and then we’ll take a look at them together,” Choso states, stepping into the room. His voice stays monotone, but Megumi’s gotten to know his boss well enough to know he cares just as much as he does.

Megumi sighs, mumbling a disheartened okay before exiting the room to change.

By the time he returns, the dogs are sitting on the exam table, surprisingly well behaved as Choso flips through a few papers attached to his clipboard. The black one instantly wags his tail when Megumi opens the door, and the other soon mimics the excited gesture when he notices, too.

His boss looks up from his notes upon hearing the rapid thumps echoing off the table. “Would you like to lead?”

Megumi nods, reaching for the white one first. He leans into him instantly while he checks his gums. Apparently feeling jealous, the black one nudges his furry brother out of the way presses his snout into Megumi's palm. A quiet chuckle slips out before he can stop it, and he shifts his attention to the second dog, lifting his lip to check the color of his gums as well.

“Are you still looking for a new roommate?” Choso suddenly inquires.

Megumi swallows when he catches a glimpse of pigtails looming over his shoulder, probably just examining the inspection, though still daunting nonetheless. “Yeah, haven't been able to find anyone decent.”

Choso hums and looks off to the side with a bank face, like he’s weighing whether to vocalize whatever selection of words he wants to push out next. Megumi bites the inside of his cheek. He’s not planning to offer himself, is he? God, he hopes not.

Megumi respects Choso. He might even refer to him as a work acquaintance if he weren't his boss. He’ll admit that he enjoys working for him and appreciates how competent and composed he is, but living with him? That’s a whole other danger zone be doesn't want to think about.

Megumi tilts the dog's head to the side, hoping he at least looks focused on the exam, rather his boss still looming behind him.

He nearly jolts when the man finally speaks. “What about my younger brother? He’s a very capable roommate.”

What?

“What?”

“My younger brother!” Choso repeats excitedly. The sudden lift in tone would usually be considered uncharacteristic, but it seems to have a special resonance for his brother. “He’s looking for one right now, too.”

“Oh, uh, Itadori Yugi, was it?”

“Yuuji,” Choso corrects, giving Megumi a disapproving frown.

“Right…Yuuji…” Megumi’s quick to turn away and reach for his stethoscope, yearning for a ladder to climb out of the awkward pit he's been thrown into.

It sits on the far end of the exam table, far enough that his fingers strain when he can't reach it. Choso picks it up and places it in his palm, luckily without comment, and Megumi hopes it’s a sign of forgiveness for forgetting the name of his sensational younger brother.

Choso decides to push the conversation forward. “I think he would be a good fit. He has long work hours and visits his girlfriend's apartment quite often, so he won’t bother you too much,” he pauses with a fond chuckle before continuing. “He tends to talk a lot, but I think you’ll find him good company. He’s a good person to be around.”

Megumi huffs out a breathy chuckle, attempting to somewhat mimic the one Choso gave. As much as he would rather tune out this cumbersome conversation, he hooks the stethoscope around his neck and places a hand on the black dog's chest instead, feeling the steady thumps beat across his skin.

“If his girlfriend has a place, why doesn't he just live with her?” His eyes don't dare leave the coat of black fur as he swallows. “Not that I’m not considering it.”

Choso quietly exhales through the nose, not bitter, more in a thoughtful manner. “They can’t add another tenant. Yuuji says her lease is very strict, and breaking it would cost more than she can afford. And her apartment is close to her work, so it’s practical for her to stay.”

Megumi nods slowly, absorbing the new information.

“He’s reliable with rent,” Choso adds quickly. Megumi can practically feel his boss leaning closer when he hears the soft rustle of his scrubs. “He pays on time, he cleans, cooks, and he's great at handy work. And of course, my little brother is a good person, too.” A small pause. “Too much of one, sometimes.”

Megumi almost asks what that means, then decides he doesn’t want to invite any of his 10-minute rambles.

He silently weighs the pros and cons of inviting another stranger into his apartment for an interview. It’s not that Choso isn’t a reliable reference, but it’s hard to tell how much is truthful when his boss has a habit of lauding his younger brother.

Though, how bad could it be? If the guy is an asshole, he can just deny him, and if he's not, great—he’s got a new roommate. Besides, he’s teetering on the edge of desperation with his stack of rent coming up.

With a hesitant sigh, he faces his boss. “How soon can he stop by?”

Choso gives him an appreciative grin in return. “Tomorrow, if you’re not busy—which I know you’re not, because you aren't scheduled.”

Megumi might be offended if the statement weren't correct. Is his social life really that dull, enough that even his boss knows it?

He clears his throat, a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, tomorrow’s fine. You can tell him to come by whenever,” he says, reaching into his pocket for a pen. “I can write down my address for you—”

Choso shakes his head. “No need, I have it on file in your paperwork.”

Megumi retracts his hand, blowing out a nervous puff of air. He pulls the stethoscope off of his neck, preparing to finally climb out of the pit.

Choso slightly tilts his head. “You know, my younger brother loves dogs.”

”I still don't get why you refuse to let me pay for your apartment! You know I would, Gumi bear!”

Megumi hopes his guardian can somehow sense his eye roll on the other side of the phone. He sits up from his slack position on the couch, eyeing the two dogs cuddling on the other end.

He honestly doesn't know why he agreed to Choso’s suggestion of adopting them, which, of course, only came after his usual 10-minute adulating. If this amazing younger brother isn't what his boss makes him out to be, he won’t be able to afford them anyway. Perhaps it was their puppy eyes, or the way they excitedly pranced by his side when he walked them to the shelter.

He just didn't have it in him to refuse.

He slouches back against the cushions and sighs. “Because Gojo, I’m an adult. I should be able to pay for my own apartment. And you already pay for my schooling, isn't that enough already?”

”No! You don't even own a car! You’re still taking that damn bus or walking, aren't you?”

“It’s good exercise.”

Gojo bursts into an obnoxious laugh. “Megumi and exercise? Never thought I’d hear those two in the same sentence.”

Megumi scowls, resisting the urge to press that red button practically screaming his name. “Kinda hard to keep up with a gym membership when you're a full-time student with an internship.”

“I know, Gumi bear, I’m just pulling your leg. I wouldn't be a good father if I didn't tease my son a little.”

“You’re not my dad,” Megumi grumbles. “And quit calling me that.”

“Never, Gumi bear,” Gojo singsongs.

The speaker falls into silence, long enough to make Megumi a bit wary of what the eccentric man is up to.

“So,” Gojo finally says. “New roomie coming by today, huh? Maybe try not to scare him off this time?”

“He’s not my roommate yet. And I never scared anyone off. They were all too incompetent to even function as an adequate roommate.”

“Harsh words, you’re such a grouch. They couldn't have been that bad.”

Megumi clicks his tongue. “I’m pretty sure my apartment still smells like beer from the last one.” He sniffs a bit, confirming his guess when the malty tint in the air makes him scrunch his nose. He frowns when he recalls the guy quite literally drinking during the interview, then spilling his beer over his carpet while Megumi shoved him out the door.

“I think you’re just being picky.”

Megumi nearly pierces his phone with his glare. “If you’re just calling to judge me, I’m hanging up.”

“Nonononono—” Gojo rushes out. His voice blasts through the device, Megumi needing to pull it a few inches away to prevent his ears from bleeding. “I’m sorryyyy! Please forgive me!”

“Yeah whatever, just get on with it. He’s going to be here any minute,” Megumi mutters, hesitantly pressing the phone back to his ear.

At least, he assumes the guy will be here soon. He expected him to stop by at some point during daylight, but now it's already pushing 8 p.m., and the sky has already darkened. Perhaps a visit with his landlord really is inevitable.

“Okay, okay,” Gojo whines in defeat. He then pauses for a few seconds before saying, “I just wanted to check in on you. You barely call anymore, I miss you. Suguru does too, and I’m sure Tsumiki feels the same.”

A wash of guilt paints Megumi’s face.

As much as he loathes putting up with Gojo’s childishness, he missed his voice. Sure, it’s often obnoxious, but it’s strange not hearing it echo down the hall, calling him for dinner, or to watch some stupid movie that always makes Megumi want to gouge his eyes out by the end of it. He just wishes Gojo understood that speaking on the phone isn't an invitation to pester or insist on letting him pay for everything.

Tsumiki and Geto are certainly easier to have a normal conversation with, but between school, work, and hunting down a roommate for the last two and a half months since his last one moved out, Megumi hasn't had enough room in his brain to even consider calling. He knows they understand, but that doesn't stop the guilt eating away at him the more he prioritizes his future.

“I’ll try to call more often,” Megumi replies, accountability lacing his voice, until it drops to something a little more solemn. “I miss you guys too.”

Complete silence radiates from the phone.

Megumi furrows his brows and taps the screen to check that Gojo hasn't pressed the phone too close to his cheek and accidentally hung up. He’s confused when the call is still active, with about 8 minutes and counting now.

“Gojo? Are you still—”

“Megumiiii!” Gojo shrieks. “Awhhh, I knew you loved me!”

Megumi winces at the volume and rips the phone from his ear once more.

“I knew you missed me you little sap! You can’t hide it from me. Suguru is going to loose his marbles when I tell him!”

Gojo continues on, voice blasting through the device, loud enough to sound like he's on speaker phone. “You’re so cute when you’re not grumpy.”

A few sniffles come from the electronic frame. Megumi scoffs. “Are you crying?”

“I’m not crying! Be more polite!” Gojo sniffles some more. “Can’t a man be happy that his son misses him?”

Megumi’s already opening his mouth to correct him again when a dull buzzing fills his apartment. He glances at the intercom near the door. The little green light is on and signalling that someone is requesting to be let in downstairs.

“I’m going to have to let you go, I think he’s here,” Megumi says, pointedly standing up from the couch, and pets the sleepy dogs for good measure because they look too adorable not to.

“Wait! Keep me on the line, I wanna talk to him. I have to know if he's a good candidate for my little Gumi bear!”

“Bye Gojo.”

“Wait, I lo—”

Megumi hangs up and tucks the phone in his pocket with the ghost of a smile as he strides toward the door.

The green light is repeatedly flashing now, and the buzzing is going off nonstop. Clearly whoever’s awaiting entry downstairs keeps pressing the button over and over. Talk about impatient.

The only person who’s done that is Kugisaki, who can’t just stand and wait for the life of her, and she’s returning from her grandma’s tomorrow, so it can’t be her.

Megumi groans. If he can barely put up with Kugisaki, how’s he going to deal with her evil twin? He considers explaining to Choso that his brother failed the interview before it even began, and then quickly banishes the idea after picturing that withering frown. He wouldn't be surprised if he got fired for it, honestly.

Reluctantly, Megumi presses the button labeled: ‘talk,’ and leans forward. “What?” he snaps.

It draws silence on the other end for a few seconds as the buzzing finally stops.

“He—lo? I—this, apart—new—roommate!”

Megumi sighs. He always forgets the dumb voice box is as shitty as the complex. He doesn't know how well the speaker works on the other end, but he decides to test his luck. “Yeah, come on up. I’ll let you in when you get here. Apartment 202.”

“O—ay. Can’t wait—to—you!”

Megumi releases the button with a scoff, pressing the next one over to let the guy into the building.

Once he actually realizes he’s about to have another person in his apartment, he strides over to the couch. He tidies up the blankets and pillows, earning a soft snore from Shiro—which he had named the white one. The black one sleeping next to him obtained the name Kuro. Not very original, but it’s all he could come up with on short notice.

Looking around, he sees a glass of water on the coffee table, so he quickly picks it up and brings it into the kitchen. Just as he's setting it into the metal basin, a knock pounds at the door. He just buzzed him in. How the hell did he get here that fast?

“Coming,” Megumi calls out, crossing the living room once more.

He absently ponders which path he took. The elevator is just as shitty is the voice box, so he concludes it was the stairwell, which is certainly a journey, considering it’s six flights of stairs to get to his apartment.

Megumi peers through the peephole and rests a hand of the wood as he takes in the figure standing in the hallway.

His head is turned off to the side with a yellow hood pulled up, concealing any distinct features from view. His broad shoulders slightly sway side-to-side in waiting, almost like a child would. He’s tall, but Megumi gathers through the warped glass that he surpasses the guy by about an inch or so.

Anyone with a functioning brain would be hesitant on letting an unidentifiable stranger into their apartment, but it has been raining off and on throughout the day, so he assumes the guy got caught up in it on his way here and drew the hood for cover.

Megumi feels a bit remorseful for his initial hostility now. The man had probably been standing out in the gloomy weather the whole time and just wanted to get in before he got drenched.

Megumi startles away from the door when he knocks again. He takes a few seconds to orient himself and prepare for the uncertainty of Choso’s famous younger brother, and then takes a deep breath and turns the handle.

The man immediately snaps his head toward the creak of the old door, tugging off his hood with a familiar smile as water drips from his sunset-pink hair.

Megumi stares at the man like he’s a mirage, or an optical illusion. “You’re—” he tries to say, but it melts on his tongue.

“Itadori Yuuji! Choso’s brother,” the stranger—Itadori—beams. He extends his hand. “And you must be Fushiguro Megumi, right? Choso’s told me a lot about you.”

At a loss of words, Megumi takes the same, calloused hand, and is suddenly reeled back into yesterday morning. He can feel the warmth pressing into his skin as they sail across the busy intersection, until their swimming through the sea of people.

He can see the flame of a candle simmering out as it fades into the distance, back when Megumi wished he had called out to relight the wick and learn every detail about the flame.

Itadori’s eyes slightly widen, as if he’s just now traveling through the same realization. “Hey, you’re that guy from yesterday! Mr. veterinarian, right?”

Megumi dumbly blinks a few times, then nods. “Uh—well, student in training, but yeah,” he corrects. He ignores the warning of the heat across his cheeks, signifying they're likely a violent shade of red.

“How are the big guys anyway?” Itadori asks, his face softening. “Are they okay?”

Megumi almost swoons, his mind lost in the cadence of his soothing and concerned voice.

As if on cue, the two new furry additions to his apartment come charging at Itadori, nearly knocking him over when they pounce. Itadori immediately bends down and scratches their fur. “Awh, I missed you guys too!”

Itadori laughs as they lick his face. He wipes the saliva from his cheeks and looks up a Megumi with a wide grin. “You adopted them?”

Megumi reverts his gaze before he can be melted by that sunny smile. “The shelter was pretty packed, and I didn't want them to be put down. Plus, I haven't had a pet since I moved out, so…yeah, I guess.”

Itadori dramatically gasps and then makes a fond ‘aw’ sound before saying, “You’re a really cool guy, Fushiguro. They seem like they’re really happy here already!”

Megumi figures he has to actually look at Itadori if he wants to get used to facing his smile without plunging into the deep end of a pool full of languish.

He turns to find him straightening up, whispering more baby-talk to the wagging tails below. When his brown eyes finally meet his green, he hesitantly gestures him inside, shutting the door once Itadori clears the entrance.

Megumi rests his fingers across the comfort of the wood for a few seconds and tries to scrap together whatever composure he has left before his brain can be turned to mush.

“So, what are their names?”

Megumi turns around to find those eyes he wants to paint portraits of still staring at him. It takes him a few pitifully long seconds of gawking at them like an idiot before he finally manages to speak. “Kuro and Shiro. I think you can guess which one is which.”

Itadori snorts. “Black and white, very original.”

Yeah, yeah, I know.

Megumi defensively crosses his arms, still a bit flushed. “You try coming up with names on the spot. They were needed right when I signed the paperwork.”

“No, no, I think they’re good, I like them,” Itadori says, his hands raising in surrender. “I probably wouldn't have done much better. Maybe like, fluffy and fuzzy, or something like that.”

“And you call me unoriginal?”

Like music to Megumi’s ears, Itadori laughs. It’s so open and bright that beams of light nearly bounce off the walls despite the dark tone of the night pooling in through his living room window. It’s like opening your curtains to a sunny morning, the guarantee of a good day staring back when the sun beams.

He wouldn't be surprised if the dogs felt it too, both of them crowding closer to Itadori’s legs.

“I’ll give you a tour,” Megumi blurts. He walks past Itadori, hoping his shadow can eclipse the sun and dull some of that brightness before he does something embarrassing.

“Oh yeah, right!” Itadori replies excitedly, trailing after him, the patter of paws not too far behind.

With a weak gesture, Megumi points out the living room and explains a few details about the furniture when Itadori asks. He infers that Itadori is just trying to make small talk, but it ends up with him going on about how he had to throw out almost all of his own furniture after hosting a friend's frat party.

It makes Megumi a bit doubtful about the safety of his own belongings, but Itadori is quick to reassure him that it was a one-time college disaster when he was a freshman.

Itadori explains he only attended that one year at university, obtaining his EMT certification before jumping straight into training and becoming a firefighter. He sticks a few stories onto his other miscellaneous explanations as well, which are mostly about his ‘station buddies’—as Itadori calls them, who apparently keep stealing his food from the fridge in the day room and fight over who gets to drive the trucks.

The more Megumi listens, the more he concludes that Choso was correct. Itadori loves to talk. Normally, he’d be annoyed by the clash of personalities, but Itadori pauses between his stories and asks him thoughtful questions about his own life, as if he genuinely cares and wants to get to know him. It's a bit nerve-racking, but he finds himself easing into the rhythm of exchanged words.

“So, how do you like your boss? He’s not too hard on you, is he?” Itadori teases.

Megumi opens the additional bedroom, turning back to Itadori with a distasteful expression. “You mean your brother?”

Itadori chuckles and tugs on his earlobe, sheepish. “Yeah, I must've accidentally left that part out when we first met.”

Megumi squints his eyes, coming to the realization that the two brothers have vastly different apperances. It's like flipping a switch when you enter a room. In the darkness, there’s Choso: serious, pale, quiet, and rather intimidating. Then, when you flick the plastic lever, you’re met with the light, Itadori: outgoing, tan, loud, and approachable.

So, he can’t stop himself from asking the question, “Are you really related?”

Itadori cocks his head at the sudden bluntness. “He’s my half-brother,” he says easily, like its a question he’s had to answer a million times before. “We have the same mom.”

Megumi nods with a small ‘ah’ escaping his throat. He clears it before continuing on with the tour. “This will be your room, if you pass the interview.”

Itadori spends the next few seconds examining the interior of the room. Megumi hasn't exactly made much effort to decorate—just the bare necessities: a bed, desk, hamper, and a few other miscellaneous items scattered around.

Itadori seems to approve anyway because he smiles. “Then come at me with your best questions.”

Megumi shakes his head with an amused huff. “It’s not an interrogation.” Athough the notebook he’s pulling out of his pocket probably suggests otherwise.

He gestures to the living room with a tilt of his head. They step out of the bedroom, the dogs trotting ahead.

Itadori plops down onto the couch, immediately getting comfortable while Megumi slowly lowers onto the armchair across from him. He almost rolls his eyes at the way Itadori seems to be soaking in the comfort of the cushions, as if he already lives here.

He tsks before flipping open the small notebook, clicking the lead out of his pen as he eyes the first question. “First, do you do any drugs?”

Itadori's eyes widen, clearly taken aback, but laughs. “Nah, I’m boring. Can't really do that stuff when you’re a firefighter.”

Megumi doesn't particularly like the reasoning, but he’ll accept it. “No alcohol then either?”

Itadori shrugs. “Only on occasions.” He leans in, smirking at the notebook. “Are you sure this isn't an interrogation? Kinda feels like one.”

Megumi ignores him, moving on to the next question. “Do you have a regular work schedule?”

The curve of Itadori’s lips suggests he knows he’s right, but he doesn't press as he slouches back again. “Kinda. I work twenty-four on and forty-eight off most weeks, but that changes sometimes if I get called in.”

Megumi nods. Choso was right about the long hours. He supposes 24-hour shifts are considered normal for firefighters, but he’d probably be a walking corpse if he had to stay upright for that long, let alone carry out strenuous labor. He doesn't doubt Itadori’s a good fit for it though, the guy literally screams endless energy.

“Does that mean you have a consistent income?” Megumi follows up.

Itadori nods enthusiastically, petting Shiro, who has now curled up beside him and rests his head in his lap. “I get paid every two weeks.” He then rubs the back of his neck with his free hand and says, “It’s not as much as a veterinarian, but I promise rent won't be a problem. I can give you a month's advance to prove it.”

Megumi blinks at him in surprise. “You don't have to do that.”

“I don't mind. I have enough saved up to do it.” Itadori pauses. “If you’ll let me.”

Megumi looks back down at his notebook when Itadori gives him a pleading puppy-dog look. He already has to deal with that from his new furry companions, and now this guy?—if Megumi accepts him, that is.

He weakly coughs. “How do you feel about a cleaning schedule?”

“I’m good with that. We have one at the station, so I’m used to it. Bathrooms, wiping counters, trash—whatever you want to set up.”

Shiro shifts in his lap, pushing a paw against Itadori’s thigh. He automatically scratches behind the dog’s ear without breaking eye contact.

Megumi makes a small note. “How about cooking?”

Itadori’s lips perk up. “Not to brag, but where do you think Choso gets his cookies?” he says, adding a quick wink.

Megumi can’t mask his disbelief. “They’re homemade?”

“Yup. But don’t worry, I can do actual meals too, not just sugar.” Itadori chuckles. “I usually meal-prep on my days off. Nothing fancy, just enough to bring to the station, but I can make more for the two of us.”

Megumi clears his throat. “Shared groceries or separate?”

“I’m good either way,” Itadori says. “If we share, I’ll replace what I use. If we don’t, I won’t touch your stuff.”

He can feel Itadori watching him again, waiting for the next question.

“Any pets?”

Itadori glances down at Kuro and Shiro. “Not officially, but I’m a fan of these two,” he says, again with those damn puppy-dog eyes.

Megumi tries to resist tumbling into their trap. He flips the page, more to buy himself time than because he needs to, but of course, the list of questions is already finished, and he stares at empty lines.

He flips back to the notes he’d jotted down from Itadori’s answers. Objectively, he is the most solid option he’s seen, stable job, willing to follow a schedule, good with the dogs, and not spilling beer all over his carpet.

Megumi presses the tip of his pen against the margin until the paper dents.

“So,” Itadori drawls. “Are you gonna give me a place to live? I’d hate to be separated from these big guys.”

Megumi looks up to see Itadori hugging the dogs close to his chest, who are quick to snuggle into the embrace.

Itadori knows what he’s doing, and apparently, that it’s working because he grins when Megumi sighs.

“Alright,” he says. “I have a spare key I can give you. You can drop off your things whenever you're free.”

Itadori springs up from the couch, nearly sending the two dogs flying with him. “Really?!”

Megumi slowly nods.

Like a damn lightning bolt, Itadori crosses the room and pulls Megumi into his arms with a careful squeeze. Megumi stiffens, feeling the bulge of Itadori’s biceps press through the fabric of his hoodie. He distantly curses the rain for preventing anything more revealing, then berates himself for thinking such nonsense.

His thoughts scatter again as Itadori's scent fills his nostrils. His natural musk blends in with the faint trace of his cologne. It's not overwhelming, unlike most men his age who just coat themselves in it until everyone else around them is practically drowning in clouds of Axe body spray.

The fresh tint of fresh laundry detergent clings to his hoodie, as if he had seen the rain and dug it out of the dryer just before leaving. The smell of citrus shampoo is thrown into the mix when Itadori’s head leans further forward, pink strands tickling Megumi’s jaw as his forehead rests on the groove of his shoulder.

To his demise, the embrace comes to an end when Itadori pulls away and straightens up. “Thank you, Fushiguro! Seriously!”

Megumi parts his lips, closes them again, then finally speaks. “No problem…when do you plan to move in?”

Itadori hums for a few seconds, pressing his fingertips to his chin. “Does tomorrow work?”

“Tomorrow?” Megumi repeats a bit incredulously. “Don’t you need time to pack?”

“Nope!” Itadori replies, popping the ‘p.’ “I don't have a ton of stuff, mostly just clothes and pictures. My station locker holds half of ‘em anyway.”

Megumi tries to imagine it, everything you own fitting into a metal cubby. He’d stood in his childhood room for hours before he moved out, picking and choosing which of his belongings to leave behind, and which to take with him. He can’t imagine limiting them down to a locker.

“I can wait if you want,” Itadori adds quickly, misinterpreting the silence. “I don’t want to rush you.”

Megumi looks down at Kuro and Shiro, both of whom have migrated to Itadori’s feet like they’ve already signed the lease on his behalf. “Tomorrow’s fine,” he says.

Itadori lets out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, I’ve kinda been hunkering down at Yuko’s place…even though I’m technically not allowed to stay there. Her landlord is strict as hell and won't let me move in.”

“Yuko?”

Itadori tilts his head. “Oh, right—Ozawa Yuko. She’s my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

“But right now she doesn't have enough to to get a different place that's also close enough to her job,” he goes on, rubbing the back of his neck. “And she won’t let me pay for it myself, says it wouldn’t be fair. I’d just keep sneaking in, but I’m pretty sure her landlord’s caught onto me by now.”

Megumi presses his teeth lightly into the inside of his cheek as Itadori continues to mindlessly ramble. He’d been too distracted by the optimistic coincidence to remember the little detail Choso had mentioned.

He never really stood a chance in the first place anyway. He should've figured, considering Itadori looks like your classic jock from high school. The guy is probably as straight as one could get.

He tells himself it doesn’t matter, that this is an interview for a roommate, not a damn boyfriend, that it's all it ever was, and all it ever will be. If he feels anything else, that’s his problem, not Itadori’s, but he luckily seems oblivious because he’s still talking.

“It’ll be nice not having to sneak out in the morning,” he continues with a laugh. “One time her landlord did a random room inspection a because some guy next door got arrested for smuggling drugs. I had to climb out of the window.”

Megumi’s pulled out of his spiral by the abnormal statement. “You climbed out of a window?”

“Third floor,” Itadori adds casually, holding up three fingers. “There was a tree. It was fine.”

Megumi doesn’t get the chance to explain why that doesn’t make it better before Itadori checks his phone and tilts his head. “Well, I’d love to stay and get to know my new roomie, but I should get going, I promised Yuko a movie night.”

Megumi feels the final blow stab his chest.

“Right, I shouldn't keep you then.” He reluctantly stands and digs into his pocket, fishing out the spare key. “Here, you’ll be able to use that to get in.”

Itadori smiles as he reaches out with a,“thanksyou’rethebest,” tumbling out. Their fingers brush, sending a wave of goosebumps as the hairs instantly stick up on Megumi’s arm.

He longs for the touch when Itadori retracts his hand and spins the ring of the key around his finger, making Megumi slightly motion sick. “Does sometime around nine work?—In the morning I mean,” he asks. “I don't have work tomorrow, so I don't really have any other plans.”

Megumi clears his throat. “Uh-huh, yeah—that's fine.”

“Great!” Itadori tucks the key into his pocket and bends down to pull both dogs into a goodbye hug, rambling more baby-talk as Megumi resists the urge to swoon again. As an animal lover, finds himself enamored by the way Itadori handles them. He makes sure to embrace them with gentleness and care, as if it comes naturally to him.

Seriously, how often do you come across a guy who is both attractive and good with animals?

Before long, Itadori is shuffling toward the door, clearly reluctant to leave as the dogs continue to lick his hands swaying by his sides. “I’ll be back tomorrow, then you’ll be stuck with me. I promise!”

Their eyes meet.

“You too, Fushiguro. I’m looking forward to having a new roomie!” Excitement and glee lace his tone, as if he were a giddy child anticipating his first day of school. “I think it’ll be fun—I’ve never had one before.”

Megumi finds that a bit surprising.

“Really?” he says before he can stop it.

Itadori shakes his head, still smiling. “I lived alone for a while before me and Yuko started dating. And well, you know how that living situation is going, so it’s about time I found one.”

It’s odd, Megumi thinks, Itadori doesn’t seem like someone who’s ever lived alone. Sure, he’s got his girlfriend, but sneaking into her place for the night certainly doesn’t count. It’s not the same as splitting rent, or figuring out whose turn it is to take out the trash.

Itadori is too personable for quiet, and practically built for shared space.

Megumi, on the other hand, has always preferred the quiet, but, because he needs to keep a roof over his head, that changes tomorrow with the very firefighter he’s been thinking about since yesterday morning.

“I’m looking forward to it, too,” he finds himself saying.

“Awesome. See you tomorrow, Fushiguro!” Itadori opens the door with a grin that takes Megumi’s breath away.

As if he were back to the buzzing sidewalk, back to yesterday morning, he wants to call out and tell him to stay. He wants to learn more about the firefighter, and hear all about his stories while he listens in admiration.

But the memory repeats, the candle is blown out and the flame is extinguished with it, Itadori waves an enthusiastic farewell before the door shuts behind him.

Megumi is in deep shit.

“I’m back,” Itadori calls out as he shuts the wooden door.

He hears the echo of a pan clinking against the stovetop as he kicks off his shoes. Like a dog, he quickly shakes the droplets threatening to bead off his hair because Yuko has likely already showered, as she always does after work, and he doesn't want to dirty her with rainwater.

“I’m in the kitchen, Yuuji. Are you hungry?”
her voice calls back.

“Starving. Whadya make?” Itadori pads down the hallway, lingering outside of Yuko’s bedroom as he tugs off his soaked hoodie and tosses it into the hamper from the doorway. He hisses a small, yes, in victory when he sinks it.

“Just some curry. I made do with what we have. I have to go grocery shopping.”

The smell hits him when he enters the kitchen, the perfect meal for a rainy night.

“Shit—sorry. I was going to do that. I just got caught up with work, and then had to leave right when I got back.” he says, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind as she portions the meal into one of her antique bowls.

Yuko smiles when he presses a soft peck onto her cheek. “Don’t worry about it, I know you’ve been busy. They work you too hard sometimes.”

Yuuji shrugs and leans his cheek against her neck, his chin resting on the groove of her shoulder. “A lot of fires are catching lately with how dry the weather is. There’s a high wildfire risk right now, but that’ll go down once it starts snowing.”

Yuko hums and places a hand on his head, letting it sit there for a few seconds before she starts combing her fingers through his hair. “It’s still raining?”

Yuuji chuckles, earning a small jolt of Yuko’s shoulder from the tickle of his breath. “Yeah, sorry. I didn't want get you wet, but I must've already forgot.”

She giggles. “Just don't drag in any mud, my landlord would freak. You took your shoes off, right?”

Yuuji lifts his head and looks at her in mock offense. “When have I not?”

Yuko turns and gives him a fond, but knowing look. “Sometimes you forget.”

He playfully rolls his eyes and glances down at the bowl full of steaming rice and vegetables and chicken waiting for him on the counter. “I'm sorry again for not stopping at the store, I said that I would.”

She goes silent for a moment, and he can’t tell if she’d meant it when she said not to worry. Of course, Yuko would never get upset over something like missed groceries, but they’ve been having more and more small moments like this when he arrives late at her place. He can't help but feel like he’s done something wrong.

“Let’s just go together next time, I missed you,” she finally says, picking up the ladle once more and scooping up a pile of curry. She then pauses after dumping it into the second bowl. “Oh, I forgot—you went to see that guys apartment, right? The intern from Choso’s clinic?”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean we can’t still do stuff like that together,” Yuuji says quickly. “I’ll still make time for you.”

Yuko lets out a breathy laugh. “Alright, enough, sweet-talker, tell me how it went.”

Yuuji instantly perks up. “You’ll never believe it! You know that veterinarian guy? The one I felt bad about for spilling his coffee? And then was still nice enough to walk the dogs to the vet for me anyway?”

Yuko raises her brows at his fast words, but nods anyway. “I think so. You told me something about that yesterday,” she giggles. “You’ve gotta start watching where you’re going, but go on.”

“Well, turns out that was the intern from Choso’s clinic, and my new roomie. I got the apartment! His name is Fushiguro, and he adopted those adorable guys, too. Can you believe it? I mean seriously, what a coincidence,” he shakes his head in disbelief with a little chuckle. “I thought I was gonna have to stop by the clinic to repay the guy, but then I end up right at his doorstep. He’s kinda serious, but I'm sure we'll get along. He’s also—”

He cuts himself off, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry. I’m talking your ear off.”

Yuko smiles and then leans in and pecks his lips, more reassurance than affection. “It’s okay, I like hearing you talk. I’m glad you got the apartment. I was getting worried that my landlord was going to catch you.”

Yuuji laughs softly, the sound easing out of him as he leans his forehead against hers for a second. “Yeah, me too. He’s intense about that stuff.”

She hums in agreement and turns back to the counter, sliding a bowl toward him. Steam drifts up between them. “You ready for that movie night?”

“Depends,” he teases. “Were you serious about wanting to watch Human Earthworm?”

“If it means I get to spend time with you.” She tilts her chin up and hovers her lips just shy of his own, in wait of a kiss.

His grins. “Who’s the ‘sweet-talker’ now?” he teases before giving it to her.

Yuko smiles against his lips, lingering for a few seconds before pulling back. “Now come on, the curry’s getting cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, saluting with two fingers.

She humors him with a soft giggle before they take their bowls and start for the living room. He just barely makes it through the doorway before his phone starts ringing in his back pocket.

Yuko turns to the noise. The faint smile she’d been wearing fades into something more neutral as she sets her bowl down on the coffee table and sinks onto the couch, tucking one leg beneath her. She watches him expectantly.

“Sorry,” he says automatically, already balancing his bowl in one hand as he digs his phone out with the other. He glances at the screen and winces a bit at the caller ID: Nanaminnnn :D, staring back at him.

He looks up at Yuko and mouths ‘one sec’ with an apologetic smile. She nods, but she’s gone still, her hands folded loosely in her lap.

Yuuji taps his thumb to answer and brings the phone to his ear as he walks back into the kitchen, lowering his voice. “What’s up, man?”

“Itadori, this is Nanami.”

Yuuji huffs a quiet laugh and angles his back slightly toward the living room. “Yeah, I know it’s you, Nanamin. You can add names to caller IDs, y’know.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other side. He isn't sure if it's the nickname that his boss seems to hate, or the teasing that's causing it. Whichever it is, it’s not hard to picture him frowning in disapproval.

“I’m sorry to call you so soon. I’m aware you finished your shift only a few hours ago, but a small fire broke out along the treeline.”

Nanamin, always straight to the point.

“I thought we had everything checked.” Yuuji places his bowl onto the counter and leans against the side of it.

“We did,” Nanami replies. “This is a separate ignition, likely from debris and wind. It’s contained for now, but we’re short on hands and I need you back on rotation just in case. Can you handle another ten hours?”

Yuuji squeezes his eyes shut for a brief second. When he opens them, he glances toward the living room, where the muted glow of the TV washes the wall with colorful flashing as Yuko clicks through the menu to find his favorite movie.

She’ll understand, she always understands, a reason why he loves her. Yuko’s always been so supportive of his job and his ambitions. He wants nothing more than to crawl into her arms and repay her, but if he doesn't get to the blaze while it's small, it could spread into a massive forest fire. Then it could stretch its flames across homes, and to the people inside.

He sighs and nods even though Nanami can't see him. “Yeah. Okay. How soon?”

“As soon as you can get here.”

Yuuji rubs a sleepless eye and pushes off the counter. “Got it. I’ll be there.”

There’s a pause, then Nanami adds, a little less rigid, “Drive safely, Itadori.”

“Awh, Nanamin,” Yuuji drawls. “Are you worried abo—”

He lifts a wounded brow when he’s cut off by the sound of the call ending.

He glances at the screen to confirm, and then lets out a slow breath through his nose and rubs his thumb nervously along the edge of the case. It has cracks and tears across the silicone, evidence of his restlessness lately from his busy workflow, and the skin around his nails doesn't look much better either.

As for the extra burns from the additional labor, Yuko had made a tin of homemade salve for him. It helps, for a day or two, then he comes back with new ones blistered along his knuckles or the curve of his palm, and she starts the whole process over again.

He pockets his phone and flexes his fingers when the rough fabric of his jeans bites the burns.

When he steps back into the living room, Yuko’s eyes are already waiting for him. She glances down at his empty hands, and he can see her small frown, illuminated by the light of the television. “Is it work?” she asks, but it sounds like she already knows the answer.

“Yeah,” he reluctantly confirms, sliding his hands in his pockets because he doesn't know what else to do with them. “They’re short tonight. There a treeline fire and they need some extra help.”

Yuko nods once, slow, like she’s been bracing for it, and reaches for the remote to pause the looping menu. “You didn't even get to eat your food,” she pauses. “Have you even gotten to eat today at all?”

Yuuji opens his mouth, then closes it again and tries to think back to his busy day, but he can't pick out anything memorable in terms of nutrition. “I can grab something at the station after I put on my gear,” he says, already starting for the dryer in her closet, in search of a new hoodie.

“Or you could pack the curry.”

Yuuji pauses. “Right, that's a better idea.” He gives her a smile. “I don't know what I’d do without you.”

He continues to drift to the closet as Yuko pushes herself from the couch. He can hear her soft footsteps following after him, and he waits for her to catch up when he reaches the middle of the hallway.

“You always say that,” she says quietly.

He turns toward her. “Because it’s true.”

Yuko holds his gaze for a moment, searching his face like she’s trying to decide whether to push further, then looks down instead. “You should probably keep a spare sweatshirt at the station, so you’re not running around looking for one every time they call.”

Yuuji’s awareness snaps back to his task and he closes the remaining distance to the closet. “I do have stuff in my locker,” he says, tugging the closet open, the dryer door next. “It’s just…most of it’s old. I keep meaning to bring better clothes.”

He pulls a hoodie free and shakes it out, the fabric still warm, then glances over his shoulder at her. “You’re right, though. I should leave one there.”

He doesn't understand why she’s frowning, but he doesn't get the chance to ask before she turns away and mumbles, “I’ll pack the curry.”

“Yuko—”

“It’s fine,” she says quickly, not turning back. “You’re going to be late.”