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The only thing worse than staring at the stock market and taking people’s money for hours was talking for hours about the stock market and taking people’s money. The arduous meeting is a weekly obligation that plagues Nanami, the gritty remains of his coffee were more thought consuming than his coworkers.
Next to him, a hand reached out and poked Nanami in the arm. He looked up from his mug and followed the pointed finger to the glass door of the conference room. Hinata-san was waving at him with a concerned look on her face. They had only spoken a few times as she worked the front desk to his division’s office. He couldn’t even try to predict what she might need with him. Any reason to step out of this monotone hell would be welcome.
“Excuse me, I think there is something urgent I am needed for,” Nanami spoke quietly and buttoned his suit jacket as he stood. He pushed through the glass doorways and closed it behind him securely before speaking. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Is there something I can help you with?”
Hinata-san twisted her fingers together nervously. “Uh, no I don’t need anything but your desk phone has been ringing for a while. I’m very sorry but I did answer it to take a message.” Now he was even more confused, most calls get transferred to his desk by Hinata-san so nothing should have come through during a meeting. Unless it was a repeat client, but they should have just left a voicemail.
“I’m sorry to tell you this but your son is sick and your, uh, partner seems very worried and was asking me to send you home.” If she had simply slapped him across the face it would have been less surprising and confusing than that sentence.
“I think someone may have the wrong number. I do not have a son and I am not married. I’m sorry for your wasted time.” She gave him an incredulous look as if he had kicked a puppy.
“He asked for you by name. He said that ‘Megumi’ was very sick?” Gojo. There was something wrong with that man. How had he even gotten Nanami’s office number? His immediate irritation was stifled by the realization that Megumi was sick. Gojo had trouble asking for help on his worst days and raising the Fushiguro siblings practically by himself was no different. “Nanami-san I know it’s not really my place but I think you should go home to your family. How old is your little boy?”
Gojo and his two little ducklings were A) not in Nanami’s home (he hoped) and B) were not his family. Between Hinata’s obvious expectation of him and the growing concern in his gut Nanami nodded slowly and made up his mind.
“He’ll be 7 next month.” Nanami hadn’t wanted to go back to that meeting anyway and every step he took toward his own desk made the choice a little easier. “Thank you for your help. I will see you tomorrow.”
“Of course Nanami-san. I hope your boy feels better. Maybe you should call your, boyfriend?”
If Gojo was not Nanami’s family then he certainly was not his boyfriend. He even hesitated to qualify the teacher as a friend. Nanami would never hear the end of it if Gojo had gotten to see a co-worker refer to them as romantic partners.
“I intend to.” Nanami collected his belongings as quickly as he could manage, and only pulled his phone out when he was in the privacy of the elevator. He kept it silenced during the workday, if someone needed him they should call the desk, during business hours. There were seventeen missed calls, all with voicemails, and over thirty text messages from his previous classmate. Nanami decided it would be better to face it head-on and not waste his time listening to all the voicemails.
Gojo picked up on the first ring. “Nanami, thank fuck.”
“It was rude to call my desk and interrupt a co-worker.”
“That is so far below all my priorities right now. In fact, it's a win-win. You called me back, finally, and miss-pretty-voice thinks you’re married to me.”
“We have very different definitions of a ‘win’. I also shouldn’t have to remind you that we are not married.”
“Well, I’m going to need you to start acting like we are.”
“ A sick child isn’t a great foundation for lasting bliss.”
“But it is a great reason for you to get your ass over here.” There was a new edge of worry in his voice Nanami had only heard a few times. On each occasion he heard it, it had something to do with the Fushiguro siblings.
“Is Megumi alright?” Gojo sighed on the other end of the phone. Nanami was already pulling out his light rail pass from his wallet.
“He started a high fever a few days ago and it just won’t break. Neither of them has ever been like this and I just need-” Gojo stopped short.
“What about the healers at the school?”
“Don’t you think cursed energy was the first thing I’d try?” Nanami did think that but he had to know everything that was going on before he could help. “Said it was a natural thing, no point putting his body through the stress of it. So I took him to a normie clinic. A normie. Clinic. They made him gag on a popsicle stick which he still hasn’t forgiven me for.” Nanami rolled his eyes. Gojo held a childish belief that everything could be fixed with jujutsu and enough effort.
“I’m assuming they gave him something for it?” The little display in the terminal said three minutes before the arrival of the next train.
“Yes, some flimsy pills and he took them and woke up yesterday with a rash! They gave him a rash and the poor thing is all itchy and I keep telling him to freaking stop scratching but he’s getting sneaky about it!” A small noise came through the receiver in Nanami’s ear. There was some repositioning on the other end. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’m right here.”
Nanami’s chest tightened a little at Gojo’s softer voice as he addressed Megumi. It was still low and confident but much kinder and gentle. Nanami checked the time on his watch. It was almost five o’clock. If Nanami went straight to the school he could be there quarter-passed the hour. Gojo was rambling in his ear about anti-itch cream and q-tips when he interrupted.
“Have you three eaten?” There was a moment of silence. Nanami already knew what it meant.
“No,” Gojo finally replied. “The princess went home with a friend from school today to spend the night. Megumi managed to have some rice and egg earlier.” Nanami stepped into the train car, wrapping the elbow of the arm that held his phone around a pole.
“When did you last eat?” Another silence, one Gojo didn’t break. “You are incredibly stupid. I’ll be there in an hour. Stop panicking, kids get sick.”
“Not my kids. Forty-five minutes, if you’re late I’ll kill you.” Gojo hung up, leaving Nanami with a sweaty ear and an unpleasant pressure on his chest.
A few minutes later he stepped off the light rail one stop before the one for Jujutsu Tech. A small grocery market had its exterior lights on to combat the quickly dimming light. Nanami stepped inside already knowing exactly what he needed to get.
Nanami pressed a knuckle into the doorbell outside Gojo’s on-campus apartment. The essentially full-time care he provided to the Fushiguros had earned him his own small bungalow that could fit the small family unit. When they were old enough they would be moved into their own dorms. When that day came Nanami was pretty sure Gojo would cry under his blindfold.
The Gojo at present who whipped open the door looked no less disastrous. His hair flopped in every direction and Nanami could see dark bags extending under his sunglasses. His clothes were baggy by design but they looked particularly disheveled and there were several unknown stains on them.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you.”
“That’s shit, I’m on time.”
“Forty-eight minutes Nanami. We had a deal.”
“I was supposed to have an hour.” Gojo still let him in, taking one of the filled paper bags from his left arm so he could remove his shoes on the genkan. The lights inside were low and warm but there was the unusual smell of cleaning supplies wafting through the air. What Nanami had brought with him would change that soon. He stripped off his suit jacket and tie, folding the smaller item into the pocket of the former.
Gojo had vanished into the kitchen. Nanami took the opportunity to find Megumi in the living room. There was low sound coming through the large TV as an episode of Sailor Moon played. Megumi was swaddled in several blankets and curled up on one end of the sofa, a small cloth across his forehead.
He looked awful. He was visibly sweating but shivered beneath his layers regardless. Nanami could see little pink dots all over his exposed skin. It was clear that these were now fading marks that had once been swollen and red. The small boy’s dark hair that lived to defy gravity and Gojo was now limp and brushed back. He lazily picked at a bump on the back of his hand, oblivious to the man’s presence.
Nanami side-stepped an empty bowl that sat on the floor next to the couch. “I don’t think you should be scratching at that.” The buddle of germs jumped and looked up at him.
“Satoru doesn’t get it, they itch.”
“He understands that it’s uncomfortable. He just doesn’t want you to make it worse.”
“Nothing could be worse than this.” Megumi pouted, fever-swollen cheeks did their best to flatten. Nanami kneeled next to him and put the back of his hand against the boy’s cheek. It was very hot. He agreed with the boy, this was the worst: a sick Megumi, a worried Gojo and Nanami still in his work pants after five-thirty.
“Are you hungry?” Megumi immediately shook his head. “What if I’m the one who cooks?” Megumi didn’t immediately answer. Nanami knew he probably had no appetite but he still needed something in his stomach. So did Gojo, for that matter.
“That’s not very nice,” think of the devil. He appeared in the doorway resting against a shoulder watching them. “I am a wonderful cook!” With pristine comedic timing, Megumi’s body lurched forward suddenly and his little cheeks swelled as he cupped a hand in front of his mouth. Gojo was there in an instant holding the bowl from the floor up to the boy’s face. Nanami fell back onto his butt as a disgusting sound erupted from the convulsing little body.
“It’s ok, just let it out, buddy. No reason to hold it in,” Gojo held the bowl with one hand and rubbed circles into Megnumi’s back with the other. Little knuckles gripped the edges of the bowl so tight they turned white. Nanami wanted to feel disgusted but that tight warmth was back and was squeezing his chest.
When the heaving finally stopped Gojo stood and pulled out a tissue from the box on the coffee table. He wiped it over the small boy's mouth. When he was satisfied the child was clean he tossed the crumpled paper into the bowl and started toward the hall. Once out of Megumi’s line of sight, Nanami watched Gojo gag then swallow roughly. He left Nanami alone with the boy holding the bowl a little further away from his body.
“I’m sorry,” Megumi croaked out, his voice was weak and small.
“You are sick, Fushiguro-kun. Do not be sorry for whatever your body needs.” He handed the boy a half drank glass of water. He took a few careful sips. “Will you be alright if I go to the kitchen?” Megumi nodded, still holding the big glass between both hands. Before Nanami could tell him to call for out if he needed anything, Gojo reentered with the bowl, now empty and clean.
“Can you rewind the episode for me?” Nanami watched as Gojo readjusted the boy into his blankets gingerly before reaching for the remote. Now Megumi definitely needed something in his stomach. Nanami rolled up his sleeves and went to work in the kitchen.
The udon didn’t take very long even though the broth was made from scratch. It was his mother’s recipe and his meal of choice when he was sick. The smell of ginger and garlic replaced the smell of alcohol and sickness. Pork was usually best with these noodles but given the sensitive stomachs present Nanami elected for a vegetarian option including a few cubes of tofu and simple vegetables.
Gojo had been taking turns watching Nanami and sitting with Megumi. “That smells amazing. I don’t know how you do that so fast.”
“It’s just soup. Didn’t you say you were a great cook?” Gojo laughed, it was warm and Nanami couldn’t help his own smile. The taller man was much closer and he leaned over the pot Nanami was stirring to pull in a deep breath. A large hand came to rest comfortably on Nanami’s hip. He didn’t displace it. “The word you had used was wonderful. My apologies.”
When he stood up to his full height again, another hand snaked around Nanami’s front and met the other resting against his stomach. The taller man's chest pressed flush to his back and a chin found a resting place on Nanami’s shoulder. It wasn’t unusual for Gojo to drape himself around Nanami and be overly touchy. This felt a little different. It felt normal and intimate.
“Where are your bowls?”
“In a cupboard,” he sighed, reluctant to let go.
“We’ll need them to eat.” Gojo sighed again, his grip around the blonde man’s waist tightened slightly before it broke completely, pulling them apart. The tall man placed three large bowls on the counter next to them before turning to leave.
“Hey sickie, time to wash up.”
Nanami was surprised at how much Megumi was able to eat, and wondered when they had last had a proper home-cooked meal like this. Not that Nanami could judge, he could cook but more often than not found himself eating from a to-go container alone in his studio apartment. This was nice. Gojo’s voice and jokes dominated the space as usual but he couldn’t help but feel the other man was still a bit off.
Unannounced Megumi rose from the kotatsu and wobbled on tired knees leaving his bowl half-empty. Gojo scooped the little kid into his arms, easily supporting the weight against his side. When he returned Gojo moved to clear Megnumi’s bowl as well as his own.
“What are you doing? Sit back down.”
“It’s my house and my dishes.”
“Gojo. You have to finish eating.”
“It was fantastic, mom, but I’m not hungry so I’m just gonna--”
“You are gonna sit down and eat because the worry stifling your hunger isn’t going to magically make Megumi better.” The other man stared down at him through dark glass but didn’t move to sit. Namami didn’t want to have to use this, but he wasn’t him leaving much of a choice. “Satoru. Sit and eat with me, please.”
The result was instantaneous, a large, wicked smile spread across Gojo’s face. Nanami could practically see the glow emanating behind the dark glasses. He sat down across from Nanami, their feet barely touching, and lifted his bowl.
“I knew you loved me,” he took a long gulp of broth. Nanami rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt. They ate in comfortable silence, Gojo constantly watching the doorway past Nanami into the living room. Nanami was the last to finish his udon but the other had patiently waited for him. When they stood to finally clear the table a shout came from the living room.
Gojo was gone, the air legitimately moved around Nanami with the speed at which he vacated the room. Nanami followed, abandoning the dishes. Megumi was bent over the bowl again, displacing all the udon Nanami had hoped would settle his stomach. Having something in his stomach to actually throw up did prevent any excess dry heaving. A small mercy for his body.
When the awful sounds were finished Gojo moved to recreate the practiced procedure Nanami had seen earlier. He got as far as wiping Megumi’s mouth when he started to cry. Nanami had known both Fushiguro children for almost two years and had never once seen either cry. It was a quiet and wet sound. Nothing had ever made Nanami feel so heartbroken and furious all at once. He was ready to do anything and everything to never hear that sound or see tears in those long lashes ever again.
“Hey, Megumi, it’s ok,” Gojo moved the sick-filled container to the floor and wrapped both hands around Megumi’s reddened face. “Shhhh, it’s not your fault. It’ll stop soon I promise.” Nanami felt like he could start crying too. Or maybe punch the nearest wall with all the cursed energy in him. Instead, he reached for the dirty bowl and tried to remember where the bathroom was.
When he had managed to wrangle a few of his own gags and clean the bowl, he brought it back to the couch where a sleeping Megumi laid against Gojo’s chest in the middle. Between the heaving and tears, he had exhausted himself. There was a little damp spot near the collar of the older’s shirt. Nanami made to clear their forgotten dinner bowls.
“Don’t. You might wake him.” Once Nanami was seated next to them Gojo rotated and began to lean back. His head rested on Nanami’s thigh. The angle pushed his chin over the crown of Megumi’s head who only seemed to relax more into the new position. “Can you take them off? My hands are full.” His voice was a deep whisper, barely audible over the sounds of the TV.
Nanami carefully pinched the sides of Gojo’s tinted glasses and pulled them from his face. Piercing blue glowed through the low light. Nanami shivered. Without thinking he put a hand to Gojo’s forehead and pushed back the messy white stands. Gojo’s full face looked up at him, eyes unreadable and intense. Nanami had to look away. It was too much and he knew how keeping his eyes exposed must have been hurting Gojo. Despite that, the blue eyes stayed on him for a moment longer. Nanami didn’t take his hand out of the white hair.
Tuxedo Man had just thrown his useless rose at Usagi when Megumi started to cough a bit, waking himself and Gojo who had pressed his face into Nanami’s stomach, shielding his face from the TV. Before they could resettle Nanami reminded them about the time and that a bed is the best place to sleep.
“Goodnight Nanami,” Megumi yawned the last syllable before burying his face into Gojo’s neck. The top of his head and small legs around a slim waist were all Nanami could see as the tall sorcerer carried his protege to his room. Nanami noticed a small chill in their absence. It started physically, running up his back from cool air touching his now exposed thigh and side. It quickly turned into an odd, empty feeling as he recalled Hinata's words.
‘you should go home to your family.'
It was a silly thought. This was not his couch, not his home and they weren’t his family. The Fushiguro’s were just two orphans the school practically owned and Gojo was an eternal thorn in his side who decided the greatest sorcerer wasn’t hard enough and chose to take on the impossible task of parenthood in addition. There was something wrong with that man. There must have also been something wrong with Nanami too because he found himself missing that feeling of warmth and the softness of white hair between his fingers. Nanami stood, dusting off the thoughts along with nonexistent dust on his front. There were still dishes that needed clearing.
He was scrubbing the last bowl when hands encircled his waist, recreating their position from earlier. The hot water burned his hands as he spent a little more time rinsing the dish than what was strictly necessary.
“Is he asleep?”
“Yeah, fever is still pretty high though. I’ll check on him soon.”
“You should sleep too.”
“And miss out on domestic Nanami? I don’t think so.” Nanami gently stacked the bowl onto the drying rack and turned off the water.
“Why did you call me?” Gojo let go. “Instead of Ijichi or Ieiri? They are closer and one of them is a medical professional.” When Nanami turned to look at him Gojo leaned his hip against the sink to face the shorter man.
“You’re right, but neither of them would have been of much help to me,” Nanami guessed that meant that Ijichi would have only added to the worry and the coroner in all her pleasantness would have just told him to stop worrying. “Besides, our favorite chauffeur actually had a date tonight. Can you believe that? He actually got a date and went out. I thought someone would show up with a cursed technique to make pigs fly before that happened.”
“You were lonely.” Gojo cocked his head, Nanami noticed a sheen to his skin now, it went all the way down his neck, where Nanami watched him swallow. Adam's apple rising and falling.
“Thank you for everything tonight. You didn’t need to do all that.”
“No, I didn’t need to. Which is exactly why you should realize that I wanted to.” They were standing very close. That feeling tightening in Nanami’s chest again.
“Even though I frightened your little secretary?” Gojo leaned in a little more, though he seemed a little unsteady. He gripped the edge of the sink for support. Nanami’s eyes flicked over pink lips, they were slightly chapped.
“She thinks we are together.” Gojo just hummed at that and pressed their foreheads together. Their mouths were only centimeters away. Nanami felt hot breathe across his lips. That wasn’t the only warm thing. Where their face touched was extremely hot, Gojo was burning up.
“Shit, I - I’m sorry.” Gojo turned, breaking the touch, and leaned over the sink. He wretched into the pile of clean bubbles at the bottom and groaned. He continued to heave out everything Nanami had forced him to swallow.
All Nanami could do was run circles over his hot back and let him finish. “Do not be sorry for whatever your body needs.”