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Itadori Yuuji, apparently, has a penchant for stealing Fushiguro's clothes. Mainly, his hoodies. Fushiguro hates this (read: it makes him all mushy inside) and he wants all his hoodies back as soon as possible (read: Yuuji can keep them for as long as he likes, Fushiguro likes how he looks in them) and he's going to go and get them all back right now (read: he doesn't really want to, but he needs to preserve his dignity. Not that he wants to. When it comes to Itadori, he would give up anything).
He steels himself in his mirror. You can do this, Fushiguro. No screwing up, no blushing, no getting embarrassed, just ask for the hoodies back. He's been suffering in his individual outdoor training, now that it's gotten chillier, and he's running out of clean hoodies. Yes, that'll be his excuse. He walks out of his room and to the neighboring door, knocking twice. He's ready.
But nothing could ever prepare him for the sight of a freshly-woken-up-Itadori-Yuuji wearing Fushiguro's sweater and Fushiguro feels like he's ascending, and his face feels hot and he can't even get his words out, and fuck yourself, Fushiguro, you screwed up, you blushed and you got embarrassed. Good going.
"Hey, Fushiguro," Itadori yawns, "Can I do something for you?"
You could-
"No!" Fushiguro berates his mental train of thought, and Itadori stares at him, confused.
"No?"
"No, I meant," Fushiguro feels his face grow hot again, "I was gonna ask for my hoodies back."
"Oh- Oh!" It's Itadori's turn to flush a deep red, looking down at the sweater he's wearing, "Sorry, dude. Give me a sec to change."
"Sounds good." Fushiguro clears his throat, watching the door close softly, and he buries his face in his hands, muffling a panicked groan. What was he thinking?
When had this thing started, anyways? Oh, right.
("Hey, Fushiguro, do you have a jacket I could borrow?" Itadori asks, leaning against the doorframe of his room, and Fushiguro looks up from the book he's reading.
"Sure, why?"
When Itadori had moved to the Jujutsu Tech dorms, he hadn't gotten the opportunity to pack all of his clothes, apparently, only the necessities. This resulted in a significant lack of winter jackets and hoodies, due to his shift to the dorms occurring during the warmer months.
Itadori grins when Fushiguro hands him a big black hoodie, and he throws it on over his shirt.
"Thanks, dude, wow, this is comfy!" Itadori is practically drowning in it, and Fushiguro is hit with the realization that they're actually a few centimeters apart in height, and combined with a difference in body proportions means that hoodies that normally fit Fushiguro's long, skinny torso a little loose would be a tad bit too small for Itadori's more compact and muscular torso. It makes Fushiguro's insides do a weird flip flop.)
Fushiguro is shaken out of his thoughts when the door swings open again, this time Itadori wearing a shirt of his own, and holding a neatly folded pile of about five to seven hoodies of varying dark blues and black, and Fushiguro can't help the little pang of disappointment he feels when he takes the pile into his own hands.
"I'm, uh," Itadori scratches the back of his head, "I'm sorry for borrowing so many. I promise I-"
"Borrowthemwheneveryoulike." Fushiguro lets out in one breath, and Itadori's eyes widen.
"Really?"
He understood that word-vomit?
"Yeah, really." Fushiguro's eyes waver from Itadori's face to the pile of hoodies in his hand, and back to Itadori's face. He holds out the pile of hoodies.
"Pick your favorite," He says, "You can keep it for a while."
"I- Okay." Itadori's cheeks tinge a soft pink, and Fushiguro thinks that the color matches his hair, and that he'd like to make Itadori blush like that more often. Itadori picks the big black hoodie, the one that started it all.
"Thanks, Fushiguro."
"Yeah, of course," Fushiguro says awkwardly, walking away, "See you later."
---
Later, apparently, means that night.
"Let's watch a movie!" Kugisaki announces as she barges into Fushiguro's room, a DVD labeled Mean Girls in one hand and Itadori in the other, the latter getting dragged through the doorway.
"No," Fushiguro sighs, "I'm tired."
They all are, frankly. Gojo worked them all to death, and honestly? Itadori a little more. Fushiguro is starting to see the favoritism.
The little voice in his head hisses Itadori's your favorite too, you're not fooling anybody and Fushiguro begins to wonder if his mind is housing a Sukuna of its own.
Itadori looks like he's on the verge of passing out, and Fushiguro eyes him sympathetically.
"Itadori looks tired, too, Kugisaki, we can watch it tomorrow." Fushiguro says, and Kugisaki scoffs.
"I'm not listening to you, dickhead, scooch over." She plops Itadori down next to him unceremoniously and Itadori melts into Fushiguro's side, nuzzling into his shoulder. Fushiguro can't help the way his heart jumps into his throat, senses overloading with Itadori and his soft, comforting smell.
Kugisaki slides the disc in and Itadori blinks his eyes a little more open as the movie starts.
"Mmmh." He yawns, settling more comfortably into the couch, eyes on the screen, but Fushiguro can't tear his eyes away from his captivating side profile, illuminated by the screen.
Itadori doesn't notice, but Sukuna does, apparently. A mouth appears on Itadori's cheek, lips pulled into a nasty sneer.
"Something caught your eye?" The voice leers menacingly, but the mouth almost immediately disappears. Fushiguro blinks.
"Shut up, Sukuna." Itadori mutters without even breaking his gaze from the screen, and Fushiguro can't help the way his eyes widen at the realization that Itadori can control Sukuna better than ever, because he's stronger.
Fushiguro turns to the screen.
Around 45 minutes pass, and soon Kugisaki is the one who's snoring on the other couch, and Itadori and Fushiguro are the ones watching. Or, Itadori is, anyways. Fushiguro's too hyperaware of Itadori's body heat pressed into his, hoodie enveloping Itadori in Fushiguro's smell, the overwhelming thought that Itadori, in a way, belongs to him-
No, no. Too far. Fushiguro can't let himself get selfish.
But he steals another glance at Itadori, at those markings under his eyes, his pink hair, his sweetly curved lips, and can’t Fushiguro be selfish for once? Just this once?
"Fushiguro." Itadori says without looking at him, and Fushiguro startles, breaking his gaze and turning to the television, hands perspiring slightly. He's been found out.
"Yeah?" Fushiguro says hoarsely.
"Why do you keep looking at me?"
Fuck.
"I-" Fushiguro stops. Is it now or never? Can he still save himself?
No, why should he feel the need to hide anything from Itadori? Itadori, of all people? He can trust him.
He turns back to Itadori, but the other boy is already looking at him, eyes tinged with a lack of sleep, eyebrows relaxed, mouth in a soft smile, and damn, Fushiguro really is gone for him, has been for a while.
"Because you look good in my hoodie." Is all Fushiguro can let out in a shaky exhale, and Itadori smiles, almost blinding.
"Thank you."
Wait, no. Not platonically.
"No, I don't mean like that," Fushiguro says, panicking, and Itadori's smile is gone for a millisecond, replaced by blatant disappointment, but as soon as it's gone it's back.
"Oh... Okay?"
No, fuck, that's not what he meant.
"No! Like-"
"Fushiguro, dude, it's fi-"
"Don't dude me." Fushiguro has had enough of Itadori and his false optimism, has had enough of his own lack of ability to articulate the words he actually wants to say, so he grabs the front of Itadori's hoodie (no, my hoodie, he thinks) and he connects their lips together.
Itadori lets out a muffled "Mmph!" and Fushiguro thinks for a split second, fuck, he's messed it up, he's ruined their friendship, but then Itadori is kissing him back, and he's pulling Fushiguro onto him, so that Itadori's back is on the couch and Fushiguro is leaning over him, lips still connected. This makes Fushiguro go wild, all the pent up frustration and emotion in him bleeding into the kiss and Fushiguro can't help his hands from wandering, from Itadori's soft face to his neck to his shoulders, and Fushiguro faintly wonders if he's in heaven. Itadori's lips are soft, softer than he could have ever imagined.
Itadori gasps for air, and when their eyes meet Itadori gives him the prettiest smile Fushiguro has ever been on the receiving end of.
"I've been wanting to do that for a while." Itadori breathes out, face tinging that pink that matches his hair, and Fushiguro commits the sight to memory.
"Me- Me too."
"Cool," Itadori laughs, pressing another kiss to Fushiguro's lips, "What now?"
They both look over to the still sleeping Kugisaki.
"I could," Fushiguro pauses, face flushing at what he's about to insinuate, "I could come to your room."
"Oh," Itadori says, "Oh!" And suddenly the air feels too hot, the tension between them so dense Fushiguro feels like he's choking.
"Is that okay?"
"That's perfect, let's go." Itadori slaps Fushiguro's shoulder multiple times to get him off, and something about the fact that Itadori is just as excited as he is makes him unbelievably happy.
They waste no time, Itadori laughing and Fushiguro smiling fondly the entire way, but Fushiguro can't help but leave an arm snaked around Itadori's waist, clenching the warm material of his own hoodie, unable to let go.