Chapter Text
They’re in Jujutsu. It’s Boxing Day. Itadori and Megumi walk in holding hands.
Kugisaki boos loudly when she spots them, saying, “Get a room!” as they come close, but she’s grinning. Itadori heads into the back to join Inumaki on shift, but not before he kisses Megumi soundly on the lips. The latter sits next to Panda, a dreamy look on his face.
“As disgustingly adorable as this is,” Maki says, “when did you two become official? It’s very important, for, uh, friendship reasons.” Everyone around the table nods, and he can see Inumaki watching them intently.
“Um, we kissed at the party,” Megumi tells them (“TMI!” shrieks Kugisaki, covering her ears. Maki calmly places a hand over her girlfriend’s mouth). “But we only properly got together yesterday, on Christmas.”
Maki yelps as she’s bitten, taking her hand back.
“Pay up, losers,” says Kugisaki as everyone collectively groans, pulling out their wallets. Inumaki walks by to slap some notes on the table.
“Uh, if you don’t mind my asking…”
“We had a betting pool for when you’d get together. Toge said before exams, Kugisaki said Christmas Day, and I said after the New Year,” explains Panda.
“I said Christmas Eve,” Maki tells him, as Kugisaki sticks her tongue out.
“Noh said Christmas Day, did she?” He looks at his best friend, who grins sheepishly. Later, he extorts half her winnings, using it to take Itadori on more movie dates.
“You were right,” he tells Kugisaki on the phone one day, after he and Itadori watched the entire Lord of the Rings series in one sitting, “he hates getting distracted in films. There’s no Netflix and chill in this relationship. It’s Netflix, then chill. He said no to a blow job, would you fucking believe it? Who doesn’t want their dick sucked while watching Aragorn ride a horse? What’s wrong with him?”
“Oh my god, Gumi,” Kugisaki laughs, “you’re on speaker phone again.”
“Nice to hear your boyfriend’s making you work for it!” Maki yells as he hangs up.
.
They’re at a ramen joint with Gojo, slurping noodles, when he congratulates them on working it out.
“If I had to sit through any more of your eye fucking, I’d have smashed your heads together just to break the sexual tension,” he tells them sweetly.
Megumi blinks at the professor, taking a bite of his egg. Itadori leans over to heap more pickled ginger into his soup.
“Thanks, sensei,” his boyfriend says, heartfelt.
“No problem.”
.
They’re at Panda and Inumaki’s apartment, playing video games and eating pizza.
“We knew Itadori would be a foul perpetrator of PDA, but you’re the real wild-card, Meg,” notes Maki absentmindedly as she destroys them at Smash Bros.
“I’m a passive sufferer, just like you,” he responds levelly, taking another bite of pepperoni.
“You are not, you love it,” argues Kugisaki.
“I don’t,” he retorts, twisting around to feed Itadori the rest of his slice. Itadori’s eyes don’t leave the screen as he chews, arms wrapped around Megumi, his controller in front of them.
“You’re sitting in his lap! We can hear you purring from here!”
“You’re making me sound like a furry.”
“Well, you are going to be a vet. That’s like, at least half-way there.”
.
They’re in Megumi’s kitchen. The fire alarm’s ringing.
Itadori had been concocting a new dessert, which he’d christened ‘the ginger surprise’, when everything went to shit. There are scorch marks on Megumi’s wall, his counter’s ruined, and a metal pan appears to have fused with his sink. There goes my deposit, Megumi thinks.
Their matching aprons, from his and Itadori’s first time cooking together, lie in burnt tatters on the floor. Megumi has no idea how they got to this point.
Itadori emerges from a puff of smoke, fanning the air with a towel. He’s got soot on his cheek and he’s topless.
“Are you okay?” He asks Megumi.
“Yeah.” He takes in the state of his apartment, the state of his boyfriend. He would do anything for this boy, he realises with urgent clarity.
Megumi says, raw and honest, “Yuuji, I love you.”
Itadori raises his eyebrows, as if to say, Really? Now? before kissing him gently on the lips. He tastes faintly of ginger; Megumi bites his tongue.
“Ah,” Itadori says when they pull apart. “We should probably do something about that.” Following Itadori’s gaze, Megumi notices fresh flames sprouting from a cupboard.
“Oh. Yeah.”
.
They’re at a stadium. Megumi’s watching one of Itadori’s volleyball matches. He doesn’t fully understand the rules, cheering “Sports!” when their team scores. It’s the deciding match for the main intercollegiate tournament, and they’re destroying their opponents. Apparently, his boyfriend is a big deal.
They win and Megumi receives a text, telling him to meet Itadori in the changing rooms. When he gets there, Itadori has a towel slung low on his hips, fresh out the shower, tattoos rippling over muscle. His teammates nod at Megumi as they finish changing.
“See you at the bar for victory shots,” they cheer as they head out, excited for a night of celebrating.
The door swings shut. Megumi looks his boyfriend up and down. “How tired are you,” he asks.
“Hmm, not very,” Itadori stretches his arms above his head. The shirt he’d put on rides up, exposing the dips of his waist, the strong lines of his stomach.
“Got enough energy to fuck me in the showers?”
Needless to say, Itadori never makes it to the bar.
Later, it turns out professional scouts attended the match, and want Itadori to play for a V.League 1 team after graduation.
“Hm, I dunno,” Itadori confides in him. “I got the same offer for other sports too…”
Megumi, who’s reading a book Kugisaki leant him, is stroking Itadori’s knee and humming whenever it seems appropriate. He has absolutely not been listening to his boyfriend, who’s trying to choose his future career.
“What do you think, Fushi?” Itadori asks. Megumi wraps a hand around the other man’s thigh – now that’s something which can hold his attention.
“Hm?” he says.
“What do you prefer, volleyball or basketball?” Itadori cocks his head.
“Volleyball,” he replies immediately. Not only was it the first sport he’d seen Itadori play, but they wore the sexiest uniforms, in his opinion.
“Volleyball it is then,” decides Itadori, standing to make some important phone calls.
Megumi frowns, “Wait, what?”
.
They’re in a graveyard. It’s the anniversary of Itadori Wasuke’s death, and they’ve brought flowers.
Megumi remembers his boyfriend’s grandfather fondly from many visits to the hospital. He’d been a stubborn bastard to the end, both in his attitude and in his refusal to die. He was strong, morally unshakeable, and had a foul temper. Megumi adored his company and felt lucky to spend time with the man that raised the love of his life.
He bumps his shoulder against Itadori’s, “He hates it when you bring him flowers.”
“He doesn’t know anything,” Itadori huffs. “They’re not for him, they’re for the visitors.” He kneels to adjust the bouquet on the grave, muttering light-hearted insults under his breath.
Megumi smiles, enjoying the breeze in his hair.
.
They’re in their shared apartment. Megumi’s desperately trying to get Itadori out the door – it’s Christmas Eve, and they’re going to be late. They’re meant to be staying at his sister’s until Boxing Day. She’d woken from her coma in his penultimate year of university; her recovery had been long and difficult, but it was made easier with Itadori by his side. The two had taken to each other immediately, on account of them being cut from the same cloth (a cloth made of selflessness, magnanimity, and that stubborn attitude).
“Yuuji, babe, we’re going to be late.”
“So you’ve said a million times!” Itadori finishes emptying their wardrobe and starts on a bedside table.
“What are you looking for? We’ve got to leave,” Megumi can’t help it, he’s nervous and exasperated.
“Your Christmas present! I don’t know where it is,” Itadori seems to be nearing hysteria in his attempt to turn their entire place upside down.
“We can look for it later. Please, let’s go.” Megumi’s patience is wearing thin.
“No! It’s important, I need to find it now…”
“Time isn’t real, babe. Give it to me after Christmas.”
“If time isn’t real, why are we in such a rush to leave, babe? Why is time only a social construct when it’s convenient for you, huh?” Itadori sasses him.
Megumi frowns, “Don’t get smart with me.”
“Or what!” Itadori raises his hands in the air, clearly giving up, but there are tears in his eyes.
“Hey, Yuuji,” Megumi says softly, “C’mere.” He gathers his boyfriend into his arms, “What’s wrong?”
Itadori draws in a wet breath, repeating shakily: “I don’t know where it is.”
“It’ll be fine, we’ll find it later, together. I’m sorry for being short with you.”
“No, Gu.” Itadori sniffs, hard. “I need to find it now, I…” Megumi waits, silently asking him to go on. “I was going to propose, dumbass. I can’t find the ring.” Megumi’s so shocked, he laughs. Itadori gives his upper arm a gentle smack, “Don’t laugh! Why the hell are you laughing?”
“Oh my god, you big dork,” he touches their foreheads together; when he pulls back, he’s taken a small box out of his inner pocket. Itadori’s eyes go comically wide.
He’s silent for a second, before, “Um, yes. I’ll marry you.”
“I didn’t even ask yet,” Megumi slides the box back into his pocket.
Itadori makes grabby hands at him, “No! Gimme!”
“Is your ring in this apartment?” he asks, ignoring the other man’s antics.
“Absolutely,” Itadori pouts.
“Okay. Come on. We’re going now, or we’ll be late for the surprises I booked for this evening.”
“Surprises!?” Itadori straightens, “I love surprises! What are the surprises?”
“Well, the big one was me asking you to marry me,” Megumi rolls his eyes, “but that’s blown. I’m not telling you anything else.”
“Aw,” Itadori whines, throwing his coat on and grabbing their bags with lightning efficiency, “tell me now!”
Later, as they watch fireworks from a private boat, Itadori whispers, “Shotgun Gojo as my best man.”
“Joke’s on you, I’ve already got Nobara,” Megumi whispers back, fingers on Itadori’s pulse. “Besides, if you think I’m letting Gojo anywhere near our wedding, you’re in for an early divorce.”
.
They’re in their rural house at the foot of the mountains, Megumi’s tired from a long day at the clinic. He’s greeted at the gate by Kuro, who’d been napping in the afternoon sunshine, waiting for Megumi’s return. Shiro had died a few years earlier, having reached the frankly impressive age of seven.
“You old bastard,” Megumi fondly pets the jade hound. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he murmurs as Kuro tries to get up.
“The fossil’s been waiting for you,” says Itadori, who’s playing with the kittens on their front steps.
“Oh? And what were you doing, then, out here on our porch at this hour?”
“It’s a coincidence,” smiles Itadori, his scars glowing in the late-afternoon light. “The cats took me outside, I couldn’t resist.” The kittens, and the fucking cockatoo, were Itadori’s pets. Megumi himself had amassed a small zoo of animals over the years, adopting and rescuing them, or, as in the snake’s case, receiving them as a gift from his husband.
Megumi loves coming back to Itadori, who mostly works from home these days. Having won several international competitions, including gold at the Olympics, Itadori had retired from volleyball relatively early to set up a Non-Profit. He’d felt his career lacked meaning, so decided to aid disadvantaged young people through sport. Growing fast as an international organisation (helped initially by Itadori’s fame as ‘arguably the greatest athlete to ever live’ – which was the title of an article he wouldn’t let Megumi forget), Itadori was clearly much happier working for his charity than he’d ever been as a professional sportsman.
They go inside, Megumi smelling something delicious from the kitchen.
“What’s crack-a-lackin’, big boy?” The cockatoo calls from his cage, making Itadori ugly snort.
“I swear to fuck, Yuuji, I will feed that goddamn bird to the snake.”
“Aw, don’t be like that! He’s funny! Hey, Gojo, say ‘Who’s a pretty boy?’”
“Who’s a pretty boy,” echoes Gojo, the cockatoo.
“My husband is,” answers Itadori, pulling Megumi in for a messy embrace, barely-there kisses between huffs of laughter. Megumi tries desperately to maintain his frown, but Itadori’s wrapping a strong arm confidently around his waist, using his teeth to tug at an earlobe. His resolve caves when Itadori hoists him up bodily, placing his hands beneath Megumi’s thighs as he carries him, kissing him sweetly on the mouth.
“I swear to fuck, Yuuji,” says the cockatoo, and they break apart, laughing breathlessly.
FIN