Archive of Our Own ^beta

Day seven since Tsumiki has gone back to boarding school.

Rations are getting disastrously low, and Gojo’s terrified to step outside to get to the grocery store, scared of the repercussions such a trip might incur. The apartment is already in shambles, there’s at least four new dents in the living room walls, and a new scratch on the tv. 

Seven long days: the worst tantrum Megumi’s ever thrown, in the time he’s been with Gojo. Nothing could possibly have prepared him for the absolute storm that is an emo eight-year-old’s wrath. 

His only solace takes the form of a lone salaryman who deigns to visit him, bringing takeout and flowers, bearing Lego sets and Minecraft merch-- humble offerings that never seem to please the vengeful god that has been unleashed upon the apartment. Nothing seems to keep the storm at bay, and Gojo’s long given up on getting the kid to school. 

He’s sitting on the couch, the back of which has been pushed a touch too far into the wall, leaving yet another dent and hammering the final nail into the coffin of his poor deposit, picking at a tear in the cushion, left behind after Megumi took a butterknife to it in a blind rage. 

It’s almost nine. Dawn of the final day. 

“Megumi,” He says softly. The child, passed out in the armchair opposite him, does not stir. “We have to go to the grocery store.” 

All is still on enemy lines. 

“Megumi.” 

Maybe he could just leave the kid here? He hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly four in the morning; it’s unlikely he’d wake up before Gojo got back if he’s quick-- the store isn’t far, he’d be back within the hour. But on the off-chance that the kid woke up…

He looks at the kid. 

No way in hell.

“Megumi, you have to get up now,” He says, louder. Not a twitch. 

Gojo sighs.

-------

Getting stares is not unusual for someone like Gojo. Aside from his natural ability to be the most dazzling, gorgeous, infatuating, annoying person in any given room at any given moment, growing up he’d been the center of attention and had learned to bear the burden well, taking it all in stride and turning it into a weapon. 

It wasn’t the stares making him uncomfortable at the moment. No, it was the impossibly painful grip Megumi, sleeping like an angel in his baby bjorn, head resting gently on Gojo’s chest, gotten on the man’s nipple. 

Theoretically, yes, it was Gojo’s fault for carrying the kid around in a carrier made, technically, or babies. But he’d gotten the biggest size, and Megumi fit in it perfectly, and was he supposed to wake that monster up? No. He valued his life, and he’d never even finished his will. (Megumi was getting all of his bones, as per his request, and Tsumiki was getting his Costco card, as per hers.)

The kid’s hand was squished up against his chest, fingers squeezed tight around his poor tit, and yeah it hurt like hell, but he’d rather endure it than wake the demon up and endure the wrath that would incur. 

The poor kid, Gojo mused as he picked out apples to try and fail to feed said kid later; he couldn’t blame him for missing his sister, the only person who’d really stuck with him for long before Gojo came around, but did the kid have to be so damn insane about it? There were wounds on Gojo’s torso that he feared he’d never heal from. The kid had even filed his nails into points with the emery board Gojo kept under the sink. 

His phone rings, and he scrambles to get the device out of his pocket before the sound can startle Megumi awake. He’s too slow though, dropping it on the linoleum ground with a resounding smack as the kid begins to stir, finally relinquishing his grip on Gojo’s poor chest. 

Phone in hand-- a moment too late-- call successfully declined yet mission failed, Gojo watches in abject horror as Megumi blearily takes in his surroundings, coming to terms with the ambient check-out sounds and rows of produce. 

He opens his mouth. Sucks in a breath.

Gojo narrows his eyes. “Do not- ” 

Megumi lets out the most blood-curdling scream he’s ever heard, and he’s heard his fair share in his line of work. 

“For fuck’s sake , Megumi.” 

The screech dies out; the silence that surrounds them is stark. Even the ever-present thrum of shopping cart wheels on the tiles has disappeared, making way for the startling lack of beeping from the checkout lines. Gojo looks up- three cashiers and at least ten other customers are staring. 

“I am going to kill you, kid,” Gojo breathes. 

“Stranger danger!” Megumi yells in retaliation, “I don’t know this man!” 

“ Megumi .” 

“Help!” 

A woman a few feet away gasps, fumbling in her purse and taking out her cellphone. 

“Ma’am, please- I swear I’ve got things under control. He’s my kid, and-”

“No I’m not!” Megumi cries, thrashing around and raining Gojo’s sturdy shoulders with blows, “He doesn’t even look anything like me!” 

“Megumi, for the love of fuck, cut that shit out!” 

The woman gasps again, tapping away frantically at her phone. A ways off, he can see a security guard making his way towards them, walkie-talkie poised at his lips. 

It seems he’s left with no choice-- he’s got to make a run for it. 

“Really, kid?” He mutters, “This is the closest grocery store, and now I’m never going to be able to come back here again.” 

“Give me my sister back!” 

The woman cries out in horror at that, looking like she might faint. 

“You dramatic little-”

-----------

By the time they get home, Megumi pouting the whole drive, Gojo is livid. 

“Listen,” He starts, breathing out through his nose in a pathetic attempt to keep it together. Why does he feel like he’s the one about to cry? “I know this seems like the end of the world-” 

“It is ,” Megumi interrupts him, stomping his feet as he follows his guardian up the stairway to their apartment, “I hate my life.” 

“Don’t be dramatic.” 

Megumi grunts. “I do. Everything is horrible. I want to see Tsumiki.” 

“You were fine before spring break, when she was gone!” 

“I hate being here with you!” 

Gojo turns to look over his shoulder, guilt welling up inside of him. “Kid, don’t say that.” 

“It’s true, I hate it here and I hate you! ” Megumi doubles down, glaring fiercely.

“That’s…” It’s not the first time the kid’s said it to him, and not the first time it’s stung. You’re not my dad, I hate you, I hate it here . No matter how many times the kid spits it in his face, it never seems to hurt less. The worst part is, despite his bravado and insistence that he’s doing what needs to be done, he can’t even bring himself to believe it. He knows, honestly, that Megumi would be better off damn near anywhere else. With anyone else, someone who actually knew what the hell they were doing, someone who could provide the stability that a kid like Megumi needed. 

Not to say he wasn’t trying, or that he’d given up, but it still stung. More than he’d willingly admit. “Megumi, don’t say things like that. You know I’m only trying to do what’s best for you and Tsumiki. That school is good for her, and she likes it.” 

Megumi makes an angry sound akin to a howl. “But I’m all a lone. ” 

“You aren’t,” Gojo tells him gently, mourning his neighborly relations as Megumi continues to stomp down the hall, making loud, pissy noises the whole way. He’ll have to bake cupcakes or something for his poor neighbors by way of apology. Moreover, the feelings of guilt, of shame at being so shit at this, are almost washed away by a tide of sympathy for the poor boy making a ruckus as they finally reach their front door. “You have Nanamin, and Shoko, and even if Tsumiki’s at school, you have her too. And you’ll always, always have me.” 

“I don’t want you; I want to see Tsumiki!” 

Gojo sighs again, running a hand through his hair. He’d hardly had a moment to himself the past week, nevermind a moment’s peace to brush it.  “Well, let’s try calling her, then, hm?” He offers, an olive branch he’s hoping the kid won’t snap. 

Megumi pauses at that, and when Gojo looks back over his shoulder, the kid seems to be considering it. 

The apartment door closes behind them. “If you can behave all through lunch and clean up some of the mess you made, we’ll try Facetiming her. And if she doesn’t pick up, then you can’t throw another tantrum, okay, bud?” 

“Fine,” The kid grunts. “I want ice cream, too.” 

“If you behave.” 

“Deal,” Megumi says, before making a beeline for his bedroom. The worst of the mess is in there; if the living room was a battlefield the bedroom was ground zero. 

“You better actually be cleaning up in there, not just dicking around,” Gojo reminds him as he goes, before collapsing back onto the couch, right where he was before leaving for the grocery store. 

Which, right. He didn’t even get any goddamn groceries. What the hell was he going to feed the kid for lunch? It wasn't like the old days where he could just feed himself on a bowl of expired milk and stale cereal. Shoko’d schooled him on nutrition and he’d been trying so hard to be less Ice Cream For Dinner and more Eat Your Fucking Broccoli, Kid. And if that made him feel forty, then he’d just have to be an immature bastard the rest of the day to make up for it. Just not when the kid was around. 

Speaking of forty-- Gojo digs around in his pockets for his phone. Missed call: Father of My Children🍆🍆🍆 .

“Shit,” Gojo mumbles, hitting the callback button.

Two rings, and then there’s a disgruntled, “Nanami speaking,” From the other end of the line.

“You hafta stop answering the phone that way, Nanami. It’s just me.” 

“And you have to stop calling me at work.” 

Gojo scoffs. “ You called me .” 

“I called you twenty-six minutes ago, before I began work. I am now at work.” 

“Aww, you were counting? That’s so cute of you, Nanamin.”

The other man grunts, but doesn’t say anything to the contrary. Instead he asks, “How’s Megumi?” 

“We got kicked out of a grocery store.” 

“What business haven’t you two been ejected from?” 

Gojo pauses. “I don’t think we’ve ever been banned from any gas stations.” 

“Yet.” 

“Oh, wait, we’re not allowed in the one near Megumi’s school.”

A sigh from the other end of the line.

“He’s cleaning his room now, but who knows how long until another tantrum,” Gojo says conversationally, “Also, do you think it’s possible for nipples to fall off?”

“No,” Nanami tells him, unbothered.

“Good. I was planning on using these.” 

“For what? ”

Gojo grins, even though the other man can’t see him, “Whatever you’d like.” 

“I am at work,” Nanami repeats, as if Gojo needed reminding. It’d been just a handful of days since the last time they’d seen each other, but Gojo was feeling the absence already, a hollow feeling in his chest. Between that and Megumi’s ongoing despair, the household was a bit of an emotional wreck without their rock around. 

“Are you coming over tonight?” 

“To reattach your nipple?” Nanami asks curtly.

Gojo’s mouth drops open. “Was that… a joke?”

“That depends on if you actually lost your nipple or not.” 

“It’s still safe and sound, thank god,” Gojo laughs, “But you might need to check up on it.” 

“I am not a doctor.” 

Gojo huffs audibly into the receiver. 

“...But I’ll do my best.”  

Gojo can’t help but let his grin stretch at that, muffling a laugh into his hand. “My knight in shining armor.” 

“I’m wearing khakis.” 

“Close enough.” 

There’s a bit of shuffling on the other end of the line, and then Nanami’s gruff voice fills the speaker again. “I have to get my work done. I will see you tonight.” 

“Bring dinner. And groceries?” 

“Groceries? Satoru.” 

“I told you, we got kicked out before I could finish.” 

“Alright. Fine.” There’s more shuffling, and a high-pitched squeal on the other end of the line followed by a scandalized voice, a woman’s.

“The hell was that? You have a mistress over there?”

“Negative.” 

“Good. You already have two kids to look after, and me.” 

“I meant that you are the mistress, Satoru.”

Gojo screeches. “ Excuse me? I am no one’s side hoe!”

“That was a jest.” 

“It better have been, Nanamin! I’m main-squeeze-material, you whore!”

Nanami actually chuckles at that. “If either of us is a whore, my love, it’s not me.” 

“That’s uncalled for, but you’re not wrong,” Gojo concedes, squirming a little on the couch as the words my love echo in his ears. They never actually got around to talking about it, about them, but things had shifted since the day Nanami met Tsumiki. As much as he liked to play the part of the easy-breezy, carefree one waltzing around any room, he’d been aching to ask Nanami just what the hell was happening. He knew the man well enough, of course, after years of watching one another, that he wasn’t so much scared the man wasn’t serious as he was scared he himself would go too fast and trip over the brakes. 

There’s another sound on the other end of the line, a loud, childish laugh. “Okay, actually though, that better not be your other family,” Gojo says crankily.

“I’ve only got one family,” Nanami assures him, “It’s bring your kid to work day.” 

That gives Gojo pause. “Um.” 

“Yes?” 

“ You have kids.” 

“False,” Nanami lies. “I have a whore, and my whore has kids.” 

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Why didn’t you bring Megumi with you?” 

“It didn’t seem like the time,” Nanami says pointedly. 

Though he doesn’t like it, Gojo must concede to that. Still, he’s peeved that the man hadn’t even brought it up. Twice in the past week, since the dawn of Hurricane Megumi, Nanami had come by to see them, and neither time had he deigned to mention it. “Excuses, excuses,” He tuts petulantly. 

“I can hear your pout, and I’m sorry to have upset you. I didn’t want you to worry over yet another thing.”

Well, that’s a little sweet, Gojo’s willing to admit internally. But that changes nothing; he can imagine tiny Megumi in Nanami’s big office chair, kicking his legs in boredom while the man drones on about something undoubtedly, devastatingly stupid and capitalist. It’s an endearing image, and he’s loath to have it taken away from him preemptively. 

“I also didn’t want you to start scheming, which you inevitably have.” 

“Nu-uh,” Gojo says, tone dripping with faux innocence. 

“Please don’t try anything.” 

“I would never.” 

Nanami sighs. “I have to go. See you tonight.” 

“See you tonight, Nanamin. Or….” Gojo giggles, “Who knows, maybe fate will bring us together before then.” 

“It better not .” 

“We’ll see.” 

Before Nanami can scold him further or try to offer more compelling objections, Gojo ends the call, tossing his phone onto the couch and scrambling from the cushions to retrieve his child. “Megumi, change of plans,” He says, rapping on the kid’s bedroom door, “Coming in.” 

“What.” Megumi grunts, looking up from the mess he’d been contemplating. To Gojo’s abject surprise, the gremlin had actually been cleaning like he’d been told, and there was a hefty dent in the disaster that coated the wood floors. 

“Wanna see Nanamin?” 

Megumi blinks at him, then shrugs.

“Perfect,” Gojo claps his hands, “We have to make a pitstop first.”

---------

Nanami blinks down at his phone, now flashing Call Ended-- Satoru (<3) Gojo” up at him spitefully. He sighs. A “we’ll see” from Gojo can only spell disaster; he can only hope and pray to every god he knows that it’ll be to a minor degree. No one wants to relive the Great Grape Juice Incident III. Pocketing the device, Nanami makes his way out of the hallway, heading back towards his desk and stewing on what kind of trouble the rest of the afternoon might spell. 

“Nanami, are you finished with that report?” 

He nods to his coworker, taking his seat. “Finished and submitted.” 

Taniyama leans back in his chair one desk over. “Epic. We’re making great progress for the day, eh, Nanami?” 

“Right,” Nanami agrees curtly. He likes Taniyama, overall, but casual conversation with acquaintances isn’t necessarily his strong suit. 

Unperturbed, the other man grins at him. “You’re so efficient, it’s kinda scary.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Terrifying.” 

“Thank you,” Nanami repeats, at a loss.

Taniyama’s grin turns to something sharp and conspiring. “You’ll either make some woman very happy one day, or you’ll die alone.” 

Nanami blinks, stiffening.

“It’ll have to be one strong woman. I don’t know if I could keep up with someone so serious.” 

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” 

Shrugging, the other man taps a pencil against his chin thoughtfully. “There was that rumor that you already have a girlfriend, though.” 

Rolling back from his seat across the way to butt into the conversation, Yato pokes Taniyama in the side, admonishing, “Leave the poor guy alone,” He shakes his head, “He’s already said he’s got a boyfriend, not a girlfriend.” 

Looking thoroughly scolded, Taniyama rubs his side where Yato’d attacked him. “Oh, I forgot,” He says sheepishly. “Well, then he’s gotta be a strong, resilient guy , then. It changes nothing.” 

Nanami is faced with the expectant looks of both of his coworkers. He clears his throat. “He is… strong, you could say.”

Yato nods thoughtfully. “I see… a real serious guy, just like you.” 

“I wouldn’t use the word serious.” 

“Dependable, then.” 

Nanami winces. “Mostly. At times.”

Raising his eyebrows, Yato grimaces. “Alright, intelligent? Reserved? Down-to-earth?” 

Nanami says nothing. Sure, Satoru is intelligent, but he’s also a dumbass. Sure, he’s not one to go around spilling secrets when it’s important, but he’s most certainly not what Kento would call reserved . And down-to-earth? Not a word Nanami would use either.  

Taniyama whistles. “Jeez, Nanami, he’s not like you at all!” 

“It’s not necessary for two people to be the same for a relationship to work,” Nanami says, surprised as much by his own testy tone as he is by the words themselves. For one thing, his entire life he’d thought the opposite, but for another-- he wasn’t even sure what they had now as a relationship perse. 

Did Satoru consider it a relationship? They still hadn’t sat down to talk about it, every measly attempt thwarted by the crisis known as Megumi Fushiguro, or bad timing, or Satoru getting called away at a moment’s notice for something jujutsu-related. 

“I guess that’s true,” Taniyama shrugs, “But there’s gotta be some degree of overlap, right?” 

Nanami says nothing, turning back to his report. 

“Oh, boo. I want more details about your lovelife,” Yato whines, “Since mine’s been lacking.”

“There are no details,” Nanami says, hyperfocused on his computer, “That’s the end of the story. You should get back to work.” 

Yato huffs. “No one’s actually working today besides you. Bring your kid to work day is just an excuse to slack off.” 

Nanami opens his mouth to retort, but Taniyama beats him to it. “Yeah, and you’ve already finished a bunch of stuff today, Nanami, so you should relax. Loosen your tie a little, let off some steam.” 

Silently, he glances down at his tie. It’s white, with tiny blue eyes all over it. Two years ago, Satoru had given it to him as a graduation gift. The following year, he’d given him a glittering blue tie pin, also eye-shaped of course, to match. Nanami was expecting cufflinks sometime soon.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you actually relax.” 

“This is a work environment.” 

Yato rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a stick in the mud.” 

“You don’t have any kids of your own, yet you’re already a grandpa.” 

Reflexively, Nanami’s gaze drifts to the picture of the four of them-- him, Megumi, Tsumiki, and a winking Satoru-- taken at the amusement park just two weeks prior. The sun beating down on them, Tsumiki’s sweaty hand clinging to his shirt sleeve and Megumi’s weirdly sticky one gripping his pant leg, Nanami’d felt Satoru’s much larger hand creep up to rest against his back, and Shoko had laughed at him from behind the camera, saying he looked lost. Nanami feels his eye twitch. “I’m not a grandpa.” 

“I can imagine you in a rocker, grandkids on your knee…” Taniyama teases, grinning, “So wife up that boy of yours, and get cracking.” 

“Yeah,” Yato says earnestly, “You’re going to be a great dad. You need someone to take care of you when you go senile in, like, ten years.” 

The other shakes his head sagely. “I place my bets on a premature heart attack at twenty-three.” 

“Fatal?” Yato asks.

“Unfortunately.” 

Nanami grimaces. “I am not planning on dying any time soon.” 

“Have a few kids, just in case.” 

“Go back to work.” 

“Mid,” Yato tells him, but changes the subject anyway, striking a conversation with Taniyama about his new houseplant. Returning to his work, Nanami tunes them out--or tries to, simmering on some angry feeling in his stomach-- until there’s a buzz from his pocket. 

Satoru (<3) Gojo: what r u wearing ;)

Nanami rolls his eyes, obnoxiously fond. I told you, khakis , he replies, before adding: And that tie you gave me at graduation.

Satoru (<3) Gojo: oooo and what else

Glancing up at where his two coworkers are still goofing off, Nanami allows himself to smile. That blue shirt with the gold buttons that you like.

Satoru (<3) Gojo: jeez well now i can’t WAIT to see you

Nanami: Why do you ask?
Satoru (<3) Gojo: need fantasy fuel.

Nanami: I regret asking. 

He slips his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head. A few desks over, a kid shouts. The words and figures swim before his eyes. Hideki’s son, two cubicles to Nanami’s left, is babbling about something he learned at school, while a few nearby coworkers coo over him. Pettily, Nanami thinks that Megumi could tell the story better. The kid’s always got his nose in a book. 

----------

“Nanami,” Taniyama whispers.

Nanami sighs. It’d only been an hour since the two had left him alone-- an unproductive hour. As soon as he’d gotten back on track, Kenji had come by with his daughter, boasting about perfect scores on her recent exam. Nanami had nodded and refrained telling him that Tsumiki got perfect scores on her exams all the time, at such a prestigious boarding school no less. Instead, he’d been staring blankly at his screen for the past while, stewing and moving the mouse every few minutes when the screen dimmed. “Yes?”

“Do you want anything from the vending machine?” 

“No, thank you for asking.” 

Taniyama shrugs. “Suit yourself,” He turns around towards Yato, who’s spent the last hour scrolling through his phone. “You?” 

“Pass.” He looks up from his phone, “Actually-- I’ll go with you.” 

“Huh? Sure.” 

Yato slides his legs off the desk, standing and stretching. “Kineshi texted me a little while ago saying there’s some kind of commotion in the lobby. I wanna check it out.” 

Taniyama’s eyebrows knit. “What kind of commotion?” 

“Some guy showed up and picked a fight with security.” 

Sounds like an idiot , Nanami thinks. “Why?” He says.

Shrugging, Yato pockets his phone, bouncing on his toes. “I dunno, but I wanna find out. Shall we?” 

“Nanami, you should come with us,” Taniyama prods. 

“Negative.” 

“Oh, c’mon. You’ve been sitting in that chair all day.” 

“It’s only noon.”

“Just come with us. Be friendly.” 

“I have work to do.” 

“Liar,” Yato says, peering over his shoulder at the computer screen, “You haven’t touched your work in the past twenty minutes. Clearly, you’re thinking too hard about something. A walk will help. Get the blood flowing.” 

Nanami grunts. “Fine,” He says, if only to get them off his case. 

“Alright, let’s get to the bottom of this commotion,” Yato cheers. 

“And get some snacks,” Taniyama adds helpfully. 

Nanami says nothing. The other two glance at him expectantly. He sighs again. “And see an idiot get into a fight with security.” 

“Yessss,” Taniyama hisses happily, starting towards the stairs.

The trip to the lobby is a short one, filled with Yato and Taniyama’s chatter. They pass by Takeuchi from PR on the stairs, her daughter in tow. The poor child looks a little lost, clinging to her mother’s pencil skirt. Nanami is reminded of the time he’d been persuaded to accompany Megumi to the zoo, and the kid getting immediately overwhelmed, despite begging for weeks to Nanami to take him. They’d had to leave and regroup, returning triumphantly three weeks later.

“When I have kids,” Taniyama is saying, as they finally arrive at the lobby, “I’m definitely bringing them to these kinds of things.” 

“Wouldn’t you be worried about overwhelming them?” Nanami finds himself asking, holding the stairway exit open. Yato’s still got his head down, immersed in something on his phone, thumbs flying.

The man shrugs. “I’ll just have to make sure to keep and eye on them, and help them if they do get overwhelmed. I swear, I’ve got this kid thing figured out already, and I don’t even have any.”

Nanami rolls his eyes. “It’s harder than you think.”

“How would you know? You got nieces and nephews or something?” Yato looks up, grinning. 

“I’ve got… something like that.” 

There’s a commotion alright, the whole lobby buzzing with chatter. It’s not a big room, per se, but a busy one nonetheless, coworkers and their children loitering around and eying the front desk, where two buff security guards are blocking Nanami’s view. From the jaunty movements of their arms, Nanami can tell they’re deep in conversation with who he assumes is The Idiot, while the receptionist-- Akiko, he thinks her name is-- is looking desperately between the guards and the rest of the lobby, smiling anxiously. 

“What an idiot,” Yato mutters, straining his neck to see. “Who gets into a fight with security?” 

“Doesn’t look like much of a fight to me,” Taniyama says, sounding disappointed, “Where’s the action? The fists flying?” 

“They probably just want him to leave instead of being a nuisance,” Yato tells him. 

“I’m going back to my desk,” Nanami says, feeling he’s fulfilled his duty of coming with them.

“No, I wanna see if he gets his shit rocked.” 

“You don’t need me here for that.” 

Taniyama reaches over to poke Nanami in the side, which he easily evades, giving the other man an unamused look. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t be boring.” 

Grimacing, Nanami directs his gaze towards the commotion at the other end of the room. Don’t be boring is Gojo’s line, his go-to whenever Nanami dares to be reasonable in the face of his idiocy. 

Idiocy , Nanami thinks with a huff, watching the security guard get a good grip on the thin, bony wrist that’s come into Nanami’s view. 

Yato’s got his body leaning around the woman sitting in the chairs beside them, earning a disgruntled look from the poor lady. 

“Yato, please be more aware of the people around you,” Nanami sighs. 

“I can see the guy…” Yato says, unperturbed. He scrunched his nose. “He’s kinda weird-looking. Who wears sunglasses inside?” 

“I’m sure there’s a reason,” Nanami says noncommittally. He does have a few more reports he’d been hoping to get through, to avoid overtime. It was best when he could get out of the office quickly, especially if he was going to the Gojo-Fushiguro household tonight. What kind of groceries had Satoru had in mind? He’d forgotten to ask…

“He’s got a kid with him,” Yato informs them.

“What? Does he work here, then?” Taniyama says, intrigued. The woman has moved seats.

“No, definitely not. I know everyone in the building, and I’ve never seen this lanky guy in my life. He’s got, like, snow-white hair.” 

“Is he old?” 

“No. Like our age. Must be dyed, right Nanami?” 

Nanami makes a noncommittal sound. Megumi doesn’t like cauliflower or green beans, but he’ll eat peas and carrots. Or sandwiches with tomato and lettuce. But then he’ll also need to buy cheese, and he can’t remember which brand Gojo likes…

Yato’s still going. “The poor kid.” He snorts. “Looks like he’s going to hurt someone. He’s on a damn leash.”

“A leash?” 

“Yeah, you know those backpacks with the leashes?” 

“Who shows up with a kid, gets into a fight with the security guard, and causes this much of an uproar in some randomass office building? You think he’s trying to rob the place or something?” 

“What, is the kid an accomplice?” 

Yato shrugs. “You never know. Start ‘em young.”

“You’re both ridiculous,” Nanami says half-heartedly. He’s still stuck on his mental grocery list, and all the questions he should have asked during his phone call earlier. But Gojo had hung up so abruptly, after blatantly promising disaster--

His head snaps up. Sunglasses, white hair, poor kid on a leash-- “Oh my god, that’s my idiot.” 

Yato wheels towards him-- “Huh?”-- but Nanami’s already elbowing through the lobby, dropping half-assed “excuse me”s as he goes. 

“Wait up,” Taniyama grunts, going after him, Yato bringing up the rear, apologizing to every poor coworker in Nanami’s path. 

The security guard is leaning against the reception desk now, leveling The Idiot with an admittedly curious glare, while said idiot waves his hands dramatically, giving the man his best smile. Nanami knows that smile; it’s the one he used on Yaga that time he set one of the storehouses on fire. It’d worked then, but the principal is notorious for his soft spot, and there’s no guarantee the guard finds idiocy endearing. 

“Uh huh,” The man says, unamused. 

“So you see, I have to go surprise him-- look, I even dressed Megumi up as him. Megumi, show him your Nanamin impression.” 

The kid grunts, face blank. 

“See? Spot-on!”

Uncrossing his arms, the security guard, a mountain of a man, with a scrunched-up face reminiscent of a pug, or perhaps the aftermath of a nap, the kind that leaves you dented and disoriented, shakes his head. “Sir, while that may be cute and all, it changes nothing. It’s illegal to trespass on private property.”

“Is it really trespassing if-”

“You were found on the fifth floor, sneaking into an occupied conference room.” 

“How was I supposed to know there were people in it-” He stops, face lighting up as he catches sight of Nanami approaching. “Nanamin!”

The security guard turns. “There’s someone who works here actually named Nanamin? ”

“That’s my- Uh, my Nanamin! See, he’s real and- oh, that’s not a happy face.” 

Arriving at the desk, Nanami ignores Satoru entirely, bowling to first the security guard and then the receptionist. “I am sorry for any trouble he may have caused you.” 

“You know him?!” Yato blurts; at the same time Gojo whines, “Nanami don’t ignore meeee.”

“Er,” The guard says, eyebrows raised. “Are you…” He trails off, leaning back against the desk again. 

“Nanami Kento, I work on the fourth floor.” 

“He does,” The receptionist, Akiko, pipes up, a bewildered look on her face. 

“ Fourth floor,” Gojo mutters, “Dammit, I was close.” 

“No you weren’t,” Megumi tells him. 

“Four is like, the same as five.” 

“I’m going to kick you in the balls five times then, not four.” 

The hand not holding the kid’s leash moves to cover Gojo’s crotch.

Shaking his head, Nanami pats the kid’s head patronizingly. “Megumi, wait until you get home. I don’t feel like driving him to the emergency room.”

“You do know these people!” Taniyama says, “What the hell?” 

Nanami sighs. “This is my…” He glances at Gojo’s expectant face, head tilted curiously. “...Boyfriend,” He says, the word feeling pleasant and solid in his mouth, the soft, shocked look on Satoru’s face even more lovely, “Satoru Gojo.” 

There’s a pointed cough. 

“And his son, Megumi Fushiguro.” 

“ Adopted son,” Megumi corrects, glaring up at Nanami’s coworkers. 

“I do hope he didn’t bite anyone,” Nanami says, apologetic as he turns towards the guard once more, “Or kick any shins.”

Bringing a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose, the man sighs. His nametag glints in the fluorescent light of the lobby. “No one was hurt.” 

“I really am sorry.”

Yato’s laughing. “ This is your boyfriend?” 

Nanami feels his hackles rise. “Yes.”

“He’s so… silly.”

“...Silly?”

Gojo’s face scrunches in that cute way it does when he’s offended. It’s one of Nanami’s favorite looks on him, so he makes a point to bully him as much as possible-- but now’s not the time. he’s supposed to be angry with the man; he rolls his eyes as dramatically as he can manage with his coworkers watching him like that. He ahs a reputation to uphold, and he’s not willing to let it all crumble before him in teh face of the damned effect this man has on him. 

“He’s a menace, and the worst, and absolutely horrible, and a terrible influence on both of his poor children.” 

“Who are you calling poor?” Megumi grumbles. 

“What I am ,” Gojo whines petulantly, indignantly ignoring said poor child, “Is a wonderful influence, a caring father, a dilf, and a gift to all of humanity, and you’d do well to never forget that!” Having said his speech, he turns, satisfied, to extend a hand to the two men having the time of their lives to Nanami’s right. “Satoru Gojo, the strongest, coolest person you’ll ever meet. And my son, Megumi. Please keep all hands, feet, and rude comments inside the vehicle; he bites. And scratches.”
“You don’t need to introduce yourself again ,” Nanami hisses, dragging a hand down his face-- in annoyance, not at all to hide his grin. 

Taniyama takes hold of Gojo’s hand with both of his own, looking for all the world like the cat who’s got the cream. “Fantastic ot meet you. I must admit, I was half-convinced Kenny was lying about a partner, and was worried my dear coworker would die alone.” 

“ Kenny?!” Satoru shrieks, delighted, “Nanamin, your coworkers call you Kenny?!”

“Only when they want to piss me off. Don’t look at me like that-- if you even try calling me that I won’t speak to you ever again.” 

Gojo’s face falls. “Why are you no fun.” 

“We’ve had this conversation; one of us has to be responsible.” 

The security guard sighs. “I’ll let you off with a warning, sir, but this can’t become a habit. Sign in like any other visitor, please.” 

Satoru blinks. “That’s all I had to do?” 

“What did you think you were supposed to do?” 

“I dunno; I don’t know how offices work. I thought I wasn’t going ot be allowed in.” 

The security guard looks at Gojo like he’s the stupidest person he’s ever met for a moment, which very well may be true, before turning and looking pointedly around the lobby, at the children and spouses lingering around and chit-chatting. He turns back towards Satoru. “Are you stupid or something?” 

“Only on Tuesdays.” 

“It’s not Tuesday.” 

Yato looks up from his phone. “It’s not?” 

Nanami sighs. “Again, I’m really sorry for… him.” 

“I’m going to ask for a raise,” The guard tells Nanami in return, before pulling his walkie-talkie off his belt and heading for the elevator. Akiko has long since lost interest, writing something in a notepad on her desk, but she looks up now, giving the group a disapproving stare.

“Please don’t block the desk for others.” 

“Right,” Nanami says, glancing down at Megumi, who’s squeezing the straps of his backpack angrily. Only now does Nanami realize he’s not in his usual clothes-- namely, shirts with animals on it, and gyms shorts with the pockets turned out so as to not bother him-- but is instead in… what Nanami has to admit is the cutest getup he’s ever seen. The texts from earlier are starting to make a little more sense-- usually, Gojo’s decent enough not to bother him during work hours, unless he really is that bored, or it’s important, like something dangerous happeing at Jujutsu Tech, or Megumi getting a perfect score on his English exam. 

Gone is the lion t-shirt Gojo’d sent him a picture of early this morning (captioned he finally fucking fell asleep, thank motherfucking god) , replaced with a blue button up, eerily almost the same shade of Nanami’s own, and a tie suspiciously matching the one he’s got on now. Nanami has to wonder how the hell that’s possible, and if Gojo’s been hiding a smaller matching one for the kid all along. Instead of khakis, the kid’s got on soft-looking beige sweatpants, the kind that doesn’t stir up a sensory-hell-driven tantrum.  

“Oh my god, you match,” Taniyama coos.

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Yato informs them, brandishing his phone, “Say cheese.”

Gojo pulls a peace sign, dropping a heavy hand on Megumi’s head. The kid squirms; Akiko clears her throat. 

“Let’s go back upstairs,” Nanami sighs. 

“Ooh, am I going to get to see where you work?” Gojo wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. What the hell he could possibly be suggesting, Nanami can’t even begin to guess, and doesn’t really want to. 

“I want a divorce,” Nanami tells him endearingly. 

Megumi fake-gags, then scrunches his nose. “Please don’t leave me with him.” 

“I was kidding. I wouldn’t dream of it, kid.” 

“He can make jokes ?!” Yato asks, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. 

“I’m afraid if I actually let Satoru raise him alone, the kid would be traumatized.” 

“I am traumatized,” Megumi tells him. 

Nanami chuckles. “More traumatized.” 

“Betrayed by the most important people in my life,” Gojo whines, “I guess SHoko is the only one who really loves me.” 

“She just likes your wallet for booze.” 

“Nanami you bitch ,” Gojo hisses, scandalized. 

Akiko clears her throat again. “If you cold refrain from loitering in the way , that’d be lovely.” 

“Right.”

Satoru whoops. “To the elevator!”

“Kill me,” Megumi sighs, looking up at Taniyama and Yato imploringly, “Free me from this mortal hell.” 

“Aw,” Taniyama coos, “What a cute kid.”