Work Text:
It’s been two weeks since Megumi attended physical training. Coincidentally, two weeks from the session where Yuji bodied him so hard into the mat that he blacked out for a full minute. Humiliating in its own right, but that’s not why he’s been missing practice. That would be easier to get over than… the reality. He keeps thinking back to the iron hold of Yuji’s hands. To the moment where the softness in his eyes shifted to remorseless intensity. The crushing weight of his entire body suffocating his own.
Megumi hasn’t been back to training because Yuji beat the shit out of him like it was nothing. And Megumi liked it.
But one can only avoid their dilemmas— the realization of not-so-platonic feelings for your best friend— so long before they inevitably return to bite you in the ass. It’s very easy to underestimate how quickly the body loses its edge. Especially when he compares his physical capabilities to one Itadori Yuji. After two weeks with no drills, workouts, or combat, every movement has become brittle and stiff. Just yesterday, Megumi nearly sprained his hip getting on top of the kitchen counter to grab Kugisaki a specific flavor of ramen. Megumi knows he can’t keep pushing it off.
It was Gojo who made him come to training today. Naturally. That man has a sixth sense of how to irritate Megumi into action. All he had to do was insinuate the very thing Megumi had been denying all this time.
“You need to get to practice,” Gojo says from the doorway of his student’s dorm as Megumi ignores him in favor of scrolling on Instagram, “And stop avoiding Itadori.”
The scrolling stops. “I’m not.” Megumi narrows his eyes at Gojo with his stupid blindfold and all-knowing smile. His pulse quickens. “Why would I be avoiding him?”
“There’s two reasons I can think of. One: you’re embarrassed he beat you in a fight.” Gojo holds up a second finger, grinning as if he’s soaking in the fact Megumi is listening to every word. “Two: somebody has a little crush~”
His teacher sing-songs the last part and hugs himself with a couple of dramatic kissy sound effects. There’s a whole monologue about young love and using protection that Megumi ignores in favor of keeping his expression perfectly blank. Eventually, Gojo tires himself out and Megumi finds himself in another hellish circle of gay awakening.
If it was some strange manipulation tactic— which Megumi would never put past him— it worked. Megumi had never gotten ready so quickly in his life. Only after he had rolled his eyes and shut the door in Gojo’s face of course. There was only another moment of hesitation before texting the group-chat:
See you guys at training.
***
It was surprisingly… normal. No endless questions about why he had vanished or if it had to do with getting his ass beat. All he got was Kugisaki complaining about how annoying they both were and Yuji immediately pulling him into a very bro headlock. Megumi almost wishes they had made a little bigger deal out of it. Almost.
There’s a way to think his way through it. Megumi just has to find the right path of reasoning. To build up a tolerance. A tolerance to Yuji and all of the extremely Yuji things he does. He’ll start out slow with solo exercises that will keep him at a length until he can withstand close proximity. Once he can handle hearing Yuji say stupid shit like how he didn’t know H2O stood for something or how crazy it is that there’s a full moon every single month, then maybe he’ll be able to spar with him like they did before. It won’t be easy. There’s something about how blissfully dumb Yuji is that makes Megumi want to lock him away from the world and eat him alive.
Megumi follows his footwork, narrowing his focus down to nothing but the movement of each part of his body in tandem with his sword. A slash to the side, then the other, and lunge. He really would like to spar with Yuji again. It’s great practice. And much more exciting than practicing alone. Right, left, lunge. Exciting for the very reasons he isolated himself for two weeks. Rebelliously, an image of Yuji sprouts up in his head. That big smile he gets that takes up half his face. That obnoxious face.
Megumi fumbles his sword. It drops with a muffled thud on the mat, staring back up at the sorcerer as he blinks in disbelief. Gritting his teeth, Megumi snatches it off the ground and looks over his shoulder to check if the others saw.
At the other end of the training yard, Yuji and Kugisaki spar with taped fists. Their methods of training are always so noisy. The sound of pummeling and grunts. Kugisaki making constant threats and Yuji’s obnoxious laughter. Mercifully, they are too engaged with each other to notice any of his multiple dilemmas. Shaking his head back into focus, Megumi continues his sword-blocks.
“Stop dodging dammit!” Kugisaki snaps as her fist whistles through the air where Yuji’s head was, “If I could just hit you then you’d be fucking done for.”
Yuji’s laugh makes Megumi glance towards the pair again. Dammit— there’s that smile. The bastard doesn’t even look out of breath.
“Yeah,” Yuji sidesteps another wide swing. Every single movement is perfectly composed and expertly delivered. Down to curl of his lip and the position of his ugly sneakers. As if he couldn’t hesitate, even if he wanted to. “That’s kind of why I’m dodging!”
Megumi shakes his head. Focus. He draws in a sharp breath through the nose and slices his blade through the air with more force. Fire sears through the muscles of his forearms and shoulders in warning. Megumi lunges forward once again, repeating the drills until his body aches loud enough to block out his thoughts.
But out of the corner of his eye, he watches the match. Kugisaki is no joke at close range. She’s got a mean right hook and fast enough to land it too. But, not when you’re going up against Itadori Yuji. It’s inhuman. The fluidity. The power. As if every movement was planned a week beforehand and practiced endlessly until the moment of execution. He’s incredible.
There’s a thud followed by Kugisaki’s groan of pain. Yuji had swept a leg out and dodged just as Kugisaki went for his head. He got her feet first. She lies back on the mat where she landed, cursing, before tapping out.
Yuji is quick to apologize and lift her up. Before he can even manage to ask her to go another round, Kugisaki points a finger across the gym. Right at Megumi. Yuji straightens up, turning to look over his shoulder and suddenly Megumi is frozen staring into those soft, soft eyes and hopeful smile.
“Come on, Fushiguro,” Yuji says, the hint of a pout in his voice,“I’ll go easy since it’s been a while.”
Stay strong, dumbass, this is how he got you in the first place. Megumi snaps his attention forward and tries to recall the drill he was just working on. “You need to learn how to train on your own.”
“Aww, come on,” Yuji whines, drawing Megumi’s reluctant gaze back to him once again. With the other boy’s attention, he pretends to hold a fishing pole and throw a line. As if in an intense game of charades, he starts reeling Megumi towards him.
Megumi rolls his eyes. This cannot work. He cannot let this work. He can only manage to ignore Yuji a couple more seconds before he’s being reeled towards shore like the stupid bass he is.
“Fine.” Megumi squares his body into position, fists raised. That’s when he says the one thing someone should never say to Yuji before challenging him in any physical capacity whatsoever: “But don’t go easy.”
By the fifth time Megumi is body slammed onto the mat hard enough to make his head spin, he’s panting like a dog and his body is begging for a merciful death. He lays flat, arms spread with his vision a blurry mess of industrial ceiling. Slowly, out of the corner of his eye, pink, spiky hair and a pair of ridiculously round brown eyes block his view.
“Best six out of ten?”
Megumi exhales. “Fuck off.”
Cue Kugisaki’s laughter as Yuji graciously hauls Megumi into a sitting position. His hands are always so warm. There’s this lingering tingle on his skin in the shape of his palms. Megumi must be exhausted to the point of delirium because the memory of the touch just sticks. His mind narrows in on it. More of it. He tries to think of a scenario where he could ask Yuji to grab him as hard as he can and shake Megumi around like a chew toy without homoerotic undertones. Should he lay back down just to make Yuji keep picking him up? Or would that just prove Gojo’s point?
“Ugh, I’m gonna go pass out.” Megumi moves to get up, but Yuji starts sputtering and pulls him down again. His wrist tingles and he listens without thinking.
“You can’t go without stretching!” Concern flashes in his eyes, while Kugisaki nods firmly in agreement behind him, “You’re gonna be sore.”
“I’m gonna be sore no matter what,” Megumi says, but then signs in resignation as he takes Yuji’s outstretched hand.
Yuji jumps to his feet and starts stretching his sides as Kugisaki joins in. As difficult as it is to admit, they’re right. With each side Megumi leans towards, there’s a ribbon of tension that ripples down each side of his body. He grits his teeth together, swallowing down a groan every time that tight feeling verges on too much.
His gaze keeps drifting over to Yuji. As if searching for a distraction. And it really isn’t fair. Yuji’s skin seems to glow with the lightest sheen of sweat, coupled with a faint smile as if in a state of bliss from the day’s physical torment. Though, of course, it wouldn’t be torment to him. There’s never been anyone so connected to their own body. As if it were an instrument that Yuji was born to wield. Megumi wishes that he was a little more like that. Instead, he’s stuck thinking about bodies— Yuji’s specifically— instead of just being in his own.
“I was thinking about seeing if Todo could drop by sometime.” Yuji continues some conversation that Megumi finally tunes into, “That guy can really kick my ass!”
Kugisaki snorts a laugh as she grabs her toes, stretching over her leg. “If you’re that desperate for a challenge, just ask Maki— or have Fushiguro use Shikigami. You can fight the wolves or something.”
Yuji gasps in horror at the suggestion. Megumi would have also protested if he wasn’t so preoccupied with the way Yuji so easily grabs the arch of his own foot, legs split in a total 180 degree line with his chest flat against his thigh.
Dear god.
“Fluffernutter and Sonic?” Yuji jerks back up as if he wasn’t just bent like a human pretzel, a hand covering his mouth. “I would never!”
“Those are not their names.” Megumi can’t help his look of disgust, almost thankful for Yuji’s stupidity to break him out of that devil trance. But unfortunately, those comments are always followed by the intense urge to tackle him with an open mouth. “You did not actually name one of the dogs Sonic.”
“Fluffernutter is objectively worse…” Kugisaki mutters under her breath.
“Of course not. I didn’t choose the names. They spoke to me.” Yuji says, preening, before he points an accusatory finger towards Megumi. “I don’t see you stretching.”
Without any warning, Yuji smacks a hand on Megumi’s back that pushes him forward. There’s a horrible protest from his hamstrings as he plants his palms flat between his own legs. The tendons in his thighs shudder, and on the sharpest exhale, the exact thing he’s been suppressing since they started stretching happens.
Megumi makes a noise.
It lands somewhere between a sharp ah! and a whimper. Somewhere horrifically, humiliatingly in the porn-star region. Megumi inhales through his nose sharply. The entire room is silent.
For what feels like an eternity, nobody moves. He refuses to lift his gaze from the floor as his face burns. Slowly, Yuji’s hand slides off his back. Megumi wants to die a little more than ever before.
Then, Kugisaki snorts behind her hand and combined laughter echoes off the walls with enough force to tear them down. Megumi whips his head up, scowling at the pair. Kugisaki clutches her stomach, gasping for air in between her cackling. Meanwhile, Yuji has fallen over completely, rolling around and slapping the floor as he goes red in the face from laughing so hard.
“Fuck you both. I’m going back to bed.” Megumi rolls his eyes, pasting a cool demeanor of indifference that does nothing to hide how red his entire face has become.
He stands back up with a grimace and limps out just as Kugisaki imitates the sound he made and they both dissolve into another fit of giggles.
After a painfully hot shower that does nothing to ease the tension in Megumi’s body, he makes a swift escape back to his dorm. They’re probably still rolling around on the floor, laughing and imitating, like a couple of middle-schoolers who think moaning in the middle of class is the peak of comedy. Whatever. He doesn’t actually care. He’ll just switch over to a nocturnal lifestyle in order to train ruthlessly under the cover of night so their next match ends with him on top with Yuji battered and breathless beneath him. It won’t be so funny then.
Megumi closes the door to his dorm and rubs his face with his hands. No, that would be completely pointless. There’s no competing with Yuji when it comes to brute strength. He learned that lesson a while ago and yet there he was; making the same mistake and doing so happily.
Megumi falls back onto his bed and grimaces. Every part of him aches. Abused muscle and bruised bone. He should have taken it easy. Or rather, he shouldn’t have fought him in the first place. But that’s never really an option when Yuji begs for something. ‘No’ was Megumi’s favorite word until he met Yuji.
Besides, it’s not all bad. Megumi closes his eyes and lets the training playback behind them. The way Yuji locks himself into a single moment. To nothing but movement. It could almost have been a dance. The speed of every step and touch on his waist— never mind it being a fist. Most of all there’s a look in his eyes. Something that can only be described as fire.
Megumi draws a deep breath in through the nose. Every time Yuji slammed him down onto the mat, caging him in with a strength that verges on frightening— Megumi felt his heart thunder.
Slam. Blink and he’d miss how quickly Yuji closed the gap. How easily he’d find the weakness in Megumi’s form or an opening in his defense. As if Yuji had been studying him from the day they met. Slam, slam, slam. Again and again, Megumi’s back would hit the floor and punch the breath from his lungs. Again and again, Yuji would be there on top of him, pinning him to the floor with their bodies pressed so tightly together, Megumi couldn’t help but wonder if Yuji also noticed how seamlessly they fit.
His fingertips trail the soft cotton of his undershirt, palm laying flat over his left breast. At the memory alone, his breath comes shallow, and his pulse thrums in a rush. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. How can something feel so wonderful and terrible all at once? Megumi can only compare it to a pernicious nausea. An unending, squirming twist of discomfort that only eases with the memory of their hands brushing in class or Yuji’s smile every time he knocked the wind from his lungs.
Megumi grabs a pillow and smothers it over his face to quiet a defeated groan. Or maybe to suffocate himself before admitting to two ugly truths.
The ugly truth: He likes Itadori Yuji.
And the uglier truth: Gojo was right.
Then, there’s a knock on the door.
“Fushiguro? Open up~ There’s no way you’re actually asleep at 7 pm on a Friday.”
Yuji.
Megumi snaps up. The pillow drops to the floor as he clambers onto his feet. His body twinges painfully at the sudden movement, but that’s very easy to ignore with Yuji knocking at his door. He whips his head around the room, searching frantically for any sort of dead giveaway of his newfound realization. Like, a diary entry titled Itadori Megumi with hearts drawn all over the page.
Thankfully, Megumi was not possessed by a boy-crazed teenage girl in the last five minutes so his room is still as painfully normal as its always been. He quickly checks himself in the mirror as Yuji continues shouting his name through the door. Megumi fixes a couple strands of hair that don’t spike towards the ceiling quite high enough. Then, with a deep breath, he goes to answer the door.
“Fusshhhiiiguuurrr—” Yuji halts mid-knock as the door opens. “oh.”
Megumi keeps his blank face trained on Yuji, specifically Yuji from the neck up. “What?”
He can feel his heartbeat in his ears as Yuji grins. As if just seeing his dorm neighbor is enough to make him cheese out. It would be more flattering if Yuji didn’t smile like that at literally everyone.
“You left stretching early, so I brought the stretching to you.” Yuji nods towards the mat and body roller he has tucked beneath his arms, holding two steaming cups of maruchan ramen in his hands. “I also brought some dinner. Panda said he didn’t see you go through the cafeteria after practice—” He brushes past Megumi, barging into his room, “Oh you smell nice. Did you shower?”
Megumi closes the door, taking a moment to collect himself. That’s the problem with Yuji, he decides. No concept of personal space. Always getting far too close. He smells like sweat and sun. A lot of sweat. Megumi swallows. Why do I like it?
“You didn’t?”
“I wanted to get here before you fell asleep.” Yuji throws the mat across the floor and sits on it before immediately shoving some noodles into his mouth. “ah—hot!”
Megumi rolls his eyes as he watches the other boy try to fan his open mouth. Then, in the most cool and collected manner, he takes a seat on the other side of the mat and starts stirring his own noodles.
How did this happen? Megumi wonders as he blows into his cup and takes a thoughtful bite. Yuji is still weighing the price of burning his mouth against eating fast. How did he fall for somebody like Yuji?
Yuji gets over his burns and starts ranting about some American rapper whose ‘changing the game’ in between intense blowing towards his soup. Megumi offers the occasional mmhm in between the spastic ramblings. Maybe their last mission? It does something to see Yuji at his absolute limits… the fire around his fists and that look in his eyes. But no, before then. Before he died even.
Oh god. It comes back like a punch to the gut. Megumi sets his cup of ramen down, staring at the floorboards in horror.
That day on the track field when he was first searching for the missing cursed object. When he saw that pink-haired jock casually beat a world record without batting an eye. The first thing Megumi thought when he saw Yuji for the first time: he’s incredible.
Megumi has liked him since the very beginning.
“Fushiguro? You okay?” There’s a warm hand on his shoulder for just a moment, before it pulls away.
Megumi looks at Yuji with a start, only to meet those offensively deep brown eyes. He snatches his ramen back up as an excuse to look away and chugs the rest of it, noodles and all.
Immediately, his tongue sears with pain and he hisses, “ow— hot.”
Megumi swallows down the scalding broth before Yuji covers his mouth to hide his laugh. But the attempts to hold it in only make Yuji laugh harder. Megumi looks away as he exhales, trying to cool his mouth.
“I can’t believe you just did the same exact thing I did.” Yuji wipes a tear from the corner of his eye with a sigh. His laugh teeters off into a few soft chuckles, before he’s leveling Megumi’s stare with his own. For a moment, they just watch each other until Yuji clears his throat.
“We better stretch.” Yuji pulls out the body roller. “Have you ever used one of these?”
Megumi squints. “Do they even help?”
Yuji shrugs, setting it down as he gets into a demonstrative position on the mat. Without the slightest hint of effort, he holds himself in a perfect plank as he lowers one quad over it. “I don’t know, but it definitely feels better after. Then again, if you were… um, feeling it from the stretches earlier, then you’ll really feel this.”
Megumi sits on the side, legs crossed and hands folded tightly in his lap. He can do nothing but watch as Yuji demonstrates how to use the roller. The sight is nothing short of sinful. It’s like watching gay porn as a joke and then suddenly it’s not so funny. Vaguely, like white noise from another room, Megumi is aware that Yuji is explaining the process, verbally walking him through the motions. But all Megumi can see is the muscles tensing in his forearms, and the slow, perfect glide of Yuji’s body as he digs pressure into the rectus femoris muscle group.
He’s never wanted to be a piece of gym equipment so badly.
“Got it?” Yuji pops back, sitting on his heels with that unwavering smile plastered to his lips.
Megumi tries to swallow but there’s something stuck in his throat. Instead of speaking, he just nods and goes to imitate what the other boy did. Whatever. It can’t be that hard.
As he moves to his hands and knees, Megumi finds himself wincing at the twinging in his arms. However, that’s nothing compared to the screaming in his legs as he shifts weight into his toes to plank over the roller. His inhale comes in slowly, perfectly controlled, before Megumi eases down until his thigh meets its mark and he copies the rolling motion that Yuji executed so smoothly.
A throe of pain rips down the entire length of his thigh. It a strange type of sensation. A different sort of pain than getting cut open or burning your hand on the oven. The kind that would almost feel good if it wasn’t so intense. Maybe that’s why it’s so much harder to bear— the newness of it. Megumi immediately drops to his forearms with a hard thud that does nothing to cover the horrible whimper he makes. His hips lift, alleviating the contact with the roller.
Megumi’s breathing goes ragged. Again, he can feel his face start to heat up. He’s been beaten to an inch of death so many times in his life and yet this has him crumpling. Absolutely pathetic.
“Shit, Fushiguro.” Yuji’s voice is quieter than before. Probably secondhand embarrassment. “You’re really tight, huh?”
Megumi’s jaw clenches. He tries very desperately not to imagine those words in any other sort of context. “I guess.”
“You sound like a girl.”
Megumi wordlessly socks Yuji in the stomach.
“oough—” Yuji takes it, air whooshing from his lungs. “Not in a bad way!”
“I’m done.” Megumi starts to push off the mat, having taken enough humiliation for one night.
Then, Yuji’s hands are on him. One on the space between his shoulder blades, holding him down like a solid wall, and the other on the back of his thigh. The latter pulls back just as quickly as it came, but the other stays, pinning him on his knees and forearms.
“Wait— you have to keep going.” Yuji’s voice sounds different. But he doesn’t get the chance to think about it before he’s inching closer and enclosing Megumi’s waist with his steady palms. “I’ll help, okay? You’re using too much of your weight on the roller, so of course it’s gonna hurt. Just push through and it’ll feel good.”
Megumi really, really wants to tell him no. He should just shove Yuji off of him and straight out the door. Kick his stupid, perfect ass right out into the hall. But, then there are those hands on his waist. Fingertips dig into his sides through the thin fabric of his shirt. The touch alone has his mind blanking. It’s hard to string together a single thought. Let alone the strength to tell Yuji to fuck off.
“Fine.” Megumi grits through his teeth, eyes glued to the mat.
Honestly, he feels like some kind of sicko. Yuji came straight back to their dorms after getting him dinner just to make sure Megumi didn’t suffer soreness from his lack of self-preservation. He’s just being a good friend. And here Megumi is… wishing Yuji would really dig his hands in and make him a whole new kind of sore.
Megumi takes a deep breath, gathering some semblance of resolve. He will get through this. Preferably without humiliating himself any further. As unlikely as that outcome may be. He pushes back up onto his hands, while Yuji keeps him in a bracing hold. The other boy is the one to lead him into the motion, pressing his thigh back into the roller to dig into the abused muscle.
The pressure is less intense with Yuji carrying some of his weight, but there’s nothing he can do to hold back the quiet whine in the back of his throat. Yuji’s hands dig into his waist, growing tighter. Painfully tight.
“Good.” Yuji says, voice barely audible. “Other side.”
Megumi grits his teeth through the embarrassment and the ever-growing urge to run. With a shift of the hips that Yuji fully handles, Megumi prepares himself for the other side. Halfway through an inhale as he begins the motion, one of the hands at his waist begins to move. Warm fingertips leave a trail of phantom tingles as Yuji’s palm slides from the bone of his hip to flatten against the lowest plane of Megumi’s stomach. It’s like laying on top of the floor or a block of hard stone. Yuji’s hand doesn’t waver.
It’s just to stablize him. An innocent touch and yet, Megumi’s mouth drops open with a silent gasp as his mind empties of all intelligent thought. His heart is hammering so hard that it’s a mystery Yuji can’t hear it from being so close, let alone touching him. He exhales carefully between barely parted lips so that Yuji can’t hear how his breathing shakes.
Then there’s that relief so intense it becomes agony. His entire body weight sinks against the roller, digging into the meat of his thigh without any relief from Yuji’s assistance. Megumi swallows down another horrible noise when suddenly the feeling erupts into an intensity that doubles from the split second before. There’s another hand that grabs the back of his thigh as Yuji pushes him into the full, hard sensation. Megumi jerks back in a panic. Instinctively to get off of it somehow, but pushing against Yuji is like pushing against a cement wall. There’s no give. No escape.
“Ow, fuck—” Megumi chokes, falling onto his own arms with a high-pitched groan through clenched teeth. The feeling sears down the entire leg, moving with agonizing precision that he has no control over. It’s too intense to breathe. “Yuji, stop, stop— sto-stop!”
Yuji finally relents, letting Megumi lift himself enough to push the instrument of torture to the side. Those hands leave his skin with nothing but the singeing sensation of their warmth. Megumi pants into his arms, prone on the mat. A heartbeat hammers in his throat, choking every attempt at a lungful of air. He feels dizzy.
When clarity returns, Megumi finds himself absolutely fuming. What the fuck is Itadori even playing at? Another way to humiliate him? To prove yet again, without a single doubt, that he’s stronger? Megumi twists with shaking arms to look up at Yuji, teeth bared into a feral sort of grimace with nothing in his head but how good it will feel to finally tell Yuji off. This time, for real.
But Yuji is much closer than he expected. His lips are parted around uneven breaths, his chest moving with every lungful of air that does nothing to clear that hazy expression on his face. The look in his eyes is unlike anything Megumi has ever seen. The sheer power behind it reminds him of when he’s fighting. When Yuji is angry. But it’s unfocused. Glazed over. Yuji stares down at him like a starving animal.
“Itadori.” Megumi breathes his name, the correct one this time. In vain, he tries to cling onto the anger he felt just moments before, but with every second wasted looking into his eyes, it slips away. “What the hell—”
“I really want to kiss you.”
Megumi almost blacks out. “Huh?”
Yuji moves closer. His hand hits the mat by Megumi’s hip, the other grabbing his knee. Their foreheads almost collide. “Megumi, I really, really want to kiss you.”
Every breath they share is short and shallow. There’s nothing but the smell of sunshine and sweat. Every sense Megumi possesses is overpowered and utterly consumed by none other than Itadori Yuji. But maybe it’s not such a bad thing to lose against him this time.
“Okay?”
Apparently, that was all the confirmation needed. Yuji grins and kisses the other boy the same way he does everything else; with nothing held back.
Megumi finds his mind so full of thought— so full of feelings and questions, confusion and excitement that it tumbles all together in one overwhelming wave until at last, goes blank. Only in that perfect absence of reason, does Megumi have the sense to kiss his best friend back.
He grabs at Yuji’s hair, at the nape of his neck. Those powerful arms close him in, fists clenching in the fabric hard enough to make it stretch over his toned back. There’s something inside Megumi’s body that writhes and wails at the fact they aren’t close enough. Not enough skin on his skin. Not enough clawing and teeth. He could eat Yuji whole and still not fill the ache that comes from living in separate bodies.
Yuji only echoes the sentiment. He pushes his way against Megumi’s body, practically crawling in his lap until he topples them both over. Megumi braces for impact, but his head only hits a soft palm as his back is pressed to the floor. Yuji presses his kiss against the other boy’s mouth like one would seal a love letter. As if by pushing hard enough, he’ll forever stamp his mark right onto Megumi’s lips. For Itadori Yuji ONLY. Megumi wouldn’t mind that too much. He’s far too gone to care about something as inconsequential as dignity.
Only when Megumi opens his mouth to give Yuji’s bottom lip a little bite, does the other boy stop to breathe. Yuji breaks their kiss with a shaky sigh. There’s this serene look on his face that makes Megumi’s stomach swoop. As if he’s been struck by bliss. Then, Yuji’s lips curl upwards and he hides a breathless laugh in Megumi’s neck.
Megumi presses his lips together, trying not to smile. “What are you laughing at now, idiot?”
Yuji lifts his head, lips all red and swollen. “You kissed me back.”
“Yeah.” Megumi matches Yuji’s intense, unblinking stare with his own. He takes the risk full-heartedly, like staring into the sun while it destroys your retinas. “I guess I like you.”
“I like you too.” Yuji blurts out in a rush of words, his smile going squiggly and shy as he brings a hand to his own cheek like he can feel himself flushing red. “I like you a lot. A lot-a lot.”
This time, Yuji is the one to look away all sheepish. “I can’t believe I just figured that out.”
Megumi’s smile fades into a suspicious squint. “What do you mean?”
“Like, until you made that sound earlier today. At first, I laughed with Kugisaki, but then I thought about it more and more. And some more.” Yuji swallows, a shimmer of that hungry look returning to his eyes. “Then I came here ‘cause I wanted to hear it again. That’s when I realized I wanted to kiss you.”
Megumi has never been a risk for premature heart failure but Yuji is really challenging his vascular system everytime he speaks. It’s funny, in a sick sort of way, that the embarrassment he suffered earlier because of those noises is the very reason Yuji is currently here sucking his face off. Maybe he should have gotten out of shape a long time ago.
When Yuji finally looks back down at him, there’s just a long moment where he stares, swallowing up every inch of Megumi’s face like that will answer everything he’s ever needed to know. “Damn, your eyelashes are so long…“ Yuji sighs softly, then seems to catch himself and smacks his own head. “Stop distracting me— Why do you ask? When did you realize you liked me?”
Megumi turns his head to the side. Perhaps to avoid those eyes. Or maybe to sulk. He can feel his face growing hot at the idea of Yuji wanting him to make those noises. Though what’s objectively more mortifying is the fact he’s liked this idiot since the moment they met and Megumi did absolutely nothing about it.
And then here’s Yuji, who probably only realized he wanted to kiss Megumi the moment the words left his mouth.
Megumi shrugs, still facing away as if he can hide. “Doesn’t matter.”
There’s a kiss on his cheek. Then another on the crux of his jaw. One pecked to the corner of his mouth. Yuji pulls a hand from beneath Megumi’s head to push it underneath the hem of his shirt. Those calloused fingertips skim up his abdomen, skin on skin. Megumi’s breath catches in his throat and his stomach flips upside down.
“Come on, tell me,” Yuji mumbles against his neck, with not a single reservation in the world. “A week? Have you liked me for a month? Was it after I broke that arcade machine to get you a Sonic plushie— the blue hedgehog, not your dog— though, that would have been way more cool.” Yuji’s lips skim over the hollow beneath his ear. “I’m really curious.”
Megumi’s eyes drift shut again, sighing at the touch. He can almost ignore how stupid Yuji sounds when he’s being touched like this. “Longer…”
Yuji tilts his chin back towards him and kisses Megumi again. It’s as if the entire day has washed off his body. All the tension, all the embarrassment and stress. Gone with the weight of Yuji pressing into him and the insistence of his mouth. Megumi makes a soft noise that’s immediately swallowed. One hand curls in Yuji’s hair, the other cupping the nape of his neck to keep him close.
Yuji breaks the kiss again, panting softly against his wet lips. Megumi finds it even harder to refocus his eyes now. Everything feels floaty. He could kiss Yuji forever.
“Fuck—” Yuji whines, staring down at Megumi with pupils that threaten to swallow all the brown of his eyes. “How long Megumi?”
Megumi can’t even remember to be embarrassed. His gaze keeps drifting back down to Yuji’s lips. “When you beat your track coach at shot put.”
“Huh?!” Yuji gapes, “I didn’t even know you saw that! That’s like, hours before we actually met, Megumi.”
Megumi’s head lolls to the side again, uncooperative. “It took a while to catch up with you.”
Yuji goes quiet for a little too long. Megumi doesn’t move, but he does risk the subtlest glance out of the corner of his eye. Only to meet the most idiotic smile he’s ever seen in his life. Yuji holds his own face, blushing pink and batting his eyes.
“dear god get off me—”
“—Megumi,” Once again, there’s that terrible, gut-wrenching laugh before Megumi is scrunching his face against an onslaught of kisses that land a little too hard. “That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life!”