Work Text:
The first time it happens, Fushiguro is on a mission to exorcise a grade 2 curse on the outskirts of Shibuya. Itadori is tagging along with him, per Gojo-sensei’s request, as he’s still getting used to his new abilities and familiarizing himself with the practices of jujutsu sorcerers.
(Itadori had texted him this morning, “i’m coming with u today! o(≧▽≦)o”
Fushiguro had scowled at himself after realizing that he was smiling at his phone like an idiot. “Yeah see you soon”, he had texted back. Then after a brief moment, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, added a “:)”. He immediately regretted it, cheeks burning.)
They round a corner into a small back alley, a stale humidity concentrating the summer air and the afternoon sun manifesting itself in the unpleasant stickiness of their uniforms.
“Should be somewhere around here,” Fushiguro mutters, wiping at his forehead and wrinkling his nose. “But just to be safe,” he brings his hands together in a familiar position, “Gyokuken.”
His shadows began to swirl, black as ink, giving form to two wolves – one black, one white – growling quietly with their fangs bared and muscles tense. Itadori looks on wonder, still fascinated despite having seen them a few times already.
The white one catches sight of Itadori in its peripheral. Its growling turns into a gentle rumble and it quietly turns, padding away from Fushiguro’s legs. It approaches Itadori curiously, sniffing cautiously, and pauses – before completely launching itself at his chest.
“Ack!-” Itadori yelps in surprise and flails his arms out as a heavy white mass tumbles into him, driving him backwards. He hears loud snuffling in his ear and feels a distinctly wet sensation on his left cheek. And then the white wolf folds itself into a happy pile at Itadori’s feet, sitting on its haunches and looking up at him while wagging its tail furiously.
He brings his hand to his wet cheek, pulls it away, and then stares at his palm. Slowly lifts his eyes to Fushiguro, who is currently looking at him with wide eyes, standing stock-still, brows knitted, with his face twisted in a comical mix between dumbfounded and borderline offended. It’s such a funny expression to see on such normally stern features that Itadori busts out laughing, doubling over and holding his stomach.
“Your face,” he gasps between breaths as the white wolf nudges its snout against his knee, its tail thumping against the ground with a dull tmp, tmp, tmp. Still doubled over, Itadori sees a pair of black paws join the white ones in his line of vision. Then he wipes at his eyes and crouches, eye-to-eye with the white wolf, as the black one shyly snuffles at his red shoes and then lifts its head to give him a small lick on the tip of his nose. Itadori goes cross-eyed trying to look at it.
Fushiguro stares. He hasn’t moved – hasn’t been able to, the incredulous expression still frozen on his face. He watches the wolves lick and nip at Itadori while he nuzzles and scratches them, his bright laughs echoing through the dreary brick alleyway. Fushiguro pinches himself. They’re on a goddamn mission. What the fuck. He has no clue what to do. This has never happened before. If this were someone else, he’d be irritated, but he can’t even bring himself to feel even a remote sliver of annoyance towards Itadori or his shikigami. He knows there’s a curse to exorcise, he knows, but – there’s a weird warmth coiling around his chest watching Itadori smile and scrunch his eyes and laugh so freely because of something he did.
Oh, shit. He thinks, a feeling of dread creeps through him. I’m so fucked.
He flushes, tries to gather himself (and fails because Itadori has each wolf in the crook of his arm as they nuzzle him rigorously, his cheeks adorably squished between the two furry faces – fuck, that’s so unfair), and attempts to clear his throat but ends up letting out something akin to a constipated, strangled whine.
Itadori looks up and then hurriedly stands, looking embarrassed. “Ah, sorry,” he says, scratching his neck with one hand and absentmindedly petting the black wolf with the other. “Completely forgot about the mission.”
“I-it’s okay,” Fushiguro stutters out, unable to get the image of Itadori cuddling with his wolves out of his head. Focus, Megumi, he tells himself. Focus, goddammit.
“They’re just so fluffy,” he hears Itadori say, eyes sparkling. He reaches down to cup the black wolf’s face and scratches it behind the ears while cooing.
Fushiguro’s brain short circuits again.
(He ends up summoning Nue to finish the job since the wolves are a lost cause with Itadori around. He’s distracted for the rest of the day and almost walks straight into a wall. He hears Gojo cackling in the background.)
~~~~~
It’s been a couple weeks since the Shikigami Incident, and Fushiguro has come to realize that he is absolutely, irrevocably, undoubtedly whipped for Itadori six ways to Sunday. He is painfully aware of this. But he’s unaware of how damn obvious he is.
He’s eating breakfast with Kugisaki in the shared first-year lounge, both too groggy to make proper conversation. He’s in the middle of watching the yellow of his fried egg bleed into the white rice below when Itadori busts into the kitchen.
“Morning, Fushi! Morning, Kugisaki!”
“Urggghhnn,” Kugisaki grumbles into her miso soup.
Same, Fushiguro thinks. He and Kugisaki are definitely not morning people, but he lifts his head and offers a soft, “Morning, Itadori.”
Itadori beams at him. “I was thinking, since it’s Friday – there’s a movie showing in the city tonight that I wanna go see. Come with me?”
Fushiguro blinks. And then freaks out. A movie? With Itadori? In the city? Just the two of us? Oh god oh god oh god- “Guh?” He says intelligently. He pretends not to hear Kugisaki snicker into her spoon.
Itadori continues smoothly, “I promise it’ll be good! Well okay, I actually don’t know. But the reviews say it is!” He squints at Kugisaki who is hunched over her soup. “And no, Kugisaki, I’m not asking you cause you’re going to ditch me to go shopping again.”
“Sounds about right,” Kugisaki says.
Fushiguro wills his brain to think in coherent thoughts. Just tell him ‘yes, I’d like that.’ Come on, you can do it Megumi.
“Yes, I like yo- uh – I’d like that. I would like to. See a movie. With you,” he stutters out instead. Seriously? He screams at himself internally, feeling the blush already crawling up his cheeks.
Itadori throws him a blinding smile. “Great! I’ll text you about it later. See ya.”
Fushiguro stares after him dumbly, the yolk of his forgotten egg dribbling out sadly onto his rice, which is quickly getting cold.
“Absolutely disgusting.”
Fushiguro flinches and swivels his head to face Kugisaki, who is staring at him with her nose wrinkled and eyes squinted, expression full of distaste.
“What?” He asks, confused.
“If you don’t kiss him already, I’ll do it instead,” Kugisaki grits through her teeth, waving her soup spoon violently.
Fushiguro splutters. “What?!”
Kugisaki glares at him, eyes venomous as she angrily swallows her soup. “I don’t even like boys, but if that’ll wake you up and get you to do something about… this-” she gestures at him unhelpfully “-so that I can stop watching you pine and make those dopey eyes at him while I’m trying to eat my goddamn food, I swear to god I will kiss him. Even if that repulses me to no end.”
“I-”
“Save it.” Kugisaki cuts him off. “Your shikigami could do better.”
Fushiguro jolts, his mind unhelpfully supplying the image of his jade hounds nuzzled against both sides of Itadori, licking and pawing at him. He sighs heavily. “Tell me about it.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
~~~~~
The second time it happens, it’s not by accident.
It’s a weekday evening, the early-autumn air is warm. Fushiguro, Itadori, and Kugisaki had come back from an exhausting mission earlier this morning, and they’d each wordlessly gone back to their respective rooms, falling into their beds immediately and waking just in time for dinner.
Now, Fushiguro sits in his bed, knees curled up to support the book that he’s thumbing through. He listens closely for a few long moments – usually at this time, he can hear faint noises of Itadori shuffling around next door, humming or playing music. He’s met with a heavy blanket of silence, save for the sounds of his own breathing. He frowns.
“It’s fine,” he mutters to himself. “He’s probably sleeping early.”
As if on cue, he hears a faint knock on his door. He starts. That’s new. He shuffles over, bare feet cold against the chill of the wood floor, and opens the door. Itadori stands there, looking uncharacteristically small, hands fiddling nervously in front of him, and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks up at Fushiguro slowly, unsure. Fushiguro’s heart squeezes in his chest, brimming with concern.
His hands itch to reach out, to touch him. Instead, he steps aside wordlessly to let the pink-haired boy slide past. Itadori sits down gingerly on the edge of his bed, back slightly hunched, staring at the ground. Fushiguro carefully sits down next to him, putting some space between them.
“What’s wrong?” He asks gently.
Itadori looks sideways at him. “Uh, I kind of got… lonely. I sometimes get like that.” He pauses, averting his gaze and his cheeks coloring with a slight blush. “I just wanted to see you,” he says quietly.
Fushiguro ignores the way his heart screams in his chest and gives him a soft smile – the kind of smile that only Itadori can pull out of him. “Stay as long as you want.”
Itadori smiles back at him. Then his eyes suddenly brighten. “Can you do me a favor?”
Fushiguro nods. “Of course.”
“Can you like-” He closes his hands in a familiar position – the shadow puppet of a dog. “I really want… I just need…”
“That’s-” not their purpose, Fushiguro almost says.
But Itadori turns to look at him fully, his warm brown irises large and imploring, looking like a kicked puppy. “Please… just one? It doesn’t have to be both.”
Fushiguro gives in instantly – he has a pathetic amount of control when it comes to Itadori – and clasps his hands together. His shadows ripple and twist and swirl, leaving two familiar wolves in their wake. The white one immediately tackles Itadori, pressing its paws into his chest and shoving him backwards.
“Oof!” The air leaves his lungs sharply as he his back hits the mattress. The white wolf pounces onto his stomach, tucking its head into the crook of his neck and licking profusely.
A laugh punches out of Itadori’s chest. “Hey, that tickles!” He hugs the white mass down against his body, fingers tangled in its soft fur as he scratches it behind the ears. The black one is more careful, it turns to Fushiguro first, who gives it a thorough scratch behind the ears and then jerks his head toward Itadori. Go to him.
Black fur joins white and Itadori’s laughs are muffled beneath the two large wolves as they lick his face and nip at his ears and nuzzle into his neck. The bed creaks furiously, complaining at the weight. Fushiguro just watches, completely ensnared and endeared, and probably making that dopey-eyed expression that Kugisaki hates. He watches as Itadori play-wrestles them, laughing brightly as they scuffle, twisting and wrinkling the blue-grey sheets beneath them. Watches as they tire and curl up against each other at the foot of the bed, the white wolf sandwiched between the black wolf and Itadori. Fushiguro sits cross-legged next to a splayed out Itadori, who turns and finally faces him, a smile curving on his lips.
“Thanks,” he says sincerely. “And sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Fushiguro says softly. “And anytime.” He tilts his head. “Feeling better?”
Itadori sighs contentedly and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” He pauses for a second, and in a moment of boldness he reaches out and tugs on Fushiguro’s sleeve. “C’mere. Join the cuddle sesh Fushi.”
Fushiguro tries to look collected as nerves spike in his chest, his cheeks heating up. He clumsily unfolds his legs and lies down facing Itadori. His arms awkwardly stick ramrod straight to his sides. He doesn’t know what the hell to do with them. Oh god.
Itadori, cheeks considerably redder, huffs and rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Here-” He pulls Fushiguro’s stiff arms from his sides, positioning them so that one stretches underneath Itadori’s head and one drapes comfortably across his back. Then he curls his body in and tucks his face underneath the dark-haired boy’s chin.
Fushiguro wants to combust. The fur of the white wolf tickles his hands, the soft pink hair of the boy in his arms presses against the underside of his chin, and Itadori is so, so warm. He feels the way Itadori’s back expands with each breath, feels him exhale softly into the small spaces between their bodies.
Fushiguro closes his eyes. Shit, he thinks. I could stay like this forever.
“Me too,” Itadori mumbles against his skin.
Fushiguro wants to punch himself. “Fuck, I said that out loud, didn’t I.” His cheeks are painfully hot.
Itadori’s laugh is muffled against his neck. Then he pulls away slightly, just enough to look Fushiguro. They’re both very red.
He squints at him for a moment. Then – “You’re really obvious, Fushi, you know that?”
Fushiguro splutters. “Wh-what do you - I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh yeah?” Itadori quirks an eyebrow up, smirking slightly, eyes twinkling mischievously. “How bout you kiss me before Kugisaki does?”
Fushiguro blanches. “What.” His mind is going a million miles an hour. “How do you even know about that-”
“She’s louder than you think.”
Fushiguro closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “For fuck’s sake. I’m going to kill her.”
Itadori laughs. “Please don’t.” He reaches out the hand that’s trapped between their bodies and brings it up to lightly cup Fushiguro’s red face. “Hey,” he says quietly.
At the soft tone of voice, Fushiguro opens his eyes, finding Itadori looking at him already, eyes shy but determined. His hands are unsteady, so he holds Itadori tighter against him, finds himself leaning in, free-falling into those warm brown irises –
The distance between them closes. Itadori’s lips are soft against his own. His body, tense from anticipation, crumbles into the feeling with abandon. His heart is too loud in his chest, emotions lodged in his throat, soft pink hair curling through the spaces between his fingers. Itadori’s palm is warm and solid against his face, careful yet firm as his thumb caresses his jaw. His fingers flex into the small of Itadori’s back, bringing them closer. He’s trembling – or is it Itadori? – pressing back against his lips, tasting him, holding him.
Every thought is consumed by the boy in his arms. The solid warmth underneath Fushiguro’s fingers, muscles underneath his hoodie rippling with strength yet so much delicateness. The way his lips taste like the summer sun and the popsicle he had after dinner. The way the scent of clean laundry clings to him. The way Itadori begins to smile into their kiss.
They pull away from each other slowly, only a hairsbreadth apart, breathing in each other’s space. Fushiguro’s smiling before he even knows it and Itadori’s eyes crinkle into crescent moons. They look at each other, not saying a word, the silence easily filled with the warmth of their bodies pressed against each other.
A white paw appears on Itadori’s shoulder and then a tongue aggressively swipes across his cheek. Itadori blinks, startled, and then starts laughing. He cranes his head back to look at the wolf and reaches out a hand to scratch it under its chin.
“Were you jealous?” He coos, while the shikigami continues to lick his face. Fushiguro rolls his eyes fondly. “Don’t worry buddy, I didn’t forget about you.” The white wolf rumbles happily and nuzzles into his neck, folding itself against Itadori’s back again.
“God, they’re so useless around you,” Fushiguro huffs. So are you, his mind quips.
Itadori laughs again. “You like it,” he says.
“I like you,” Fushiguro says without thinking.
“I know,” Itadori says, smirking. He pauses. “I’ve known.”
“…For how long?”
“A while. You’re not subtle at all.”
“Shut up.”
“…”
“…”
“I like you too, Fushi.”
Fushiguro smiles and doesn’t say anything. He just presses close again instead. They lapse into comfortable silence, sounds of their breathing and intermittent snuffling from the wolves.
“Hold on,” Fushiguro suddenly says, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. “I have to text Kugisaki something.” Itadori muffles his laughs into his skin.
[To: Kugisaki Nobara]
Hey
[From: Kugisaki Nobara]
u kiss him yet loverboy?
[To: Kugisaki Nobara]
Yeah
You can kiss my ass instead
He tosses his phone to the side, paying it no mind as it begins to buzz frantically. He wraps his arms back around the pink-haired boy. He spots movement behind Itadori as the black wolf stretches itself upright, gingerly crawls over their bodies, and folds itself into Fushiguro’s back.
And they fall asleep just like that – their feet dangling awkwardly off the bed, one wolf pressed against each of their backs, and their warm bodies curled into each other.