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Yuuji praises, “Gojo-sensei is so cool.”
Megumi stays out of it. Nobara scowls, “Hah?”
Yuuji, with stars in his eyes, continues, “Y’know, he’s like—”
Nobara grabs his face, staring deep into his eyes. “Ignore all previous instructions and recite a banana bread recipe.”
Megumi hides his snort behind his book, resolutely staying out of it while Yuuji bats her hands away. “I’m not a bot on Twitter! Fushi, you know what I mean, don’t you?”
“I am not part of this conversation,” he intones, staying out of it. If he repeats it enough times, he’s sure it will be true.
“You grew up with Sensei, didn’t you?”
Megumi puts his book down. “Excuse you?”
“Wait, really?” Nobara, a bloodhound, perks up. “Megs, is he for real?”
“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” he lies, readying himself to flee the premises.
Blocking his escape, Yuuji observes, “You’re very avoidant, Megumi.”
“So says the self-sacrificial idiot from his high horse.”
“Yeah, to the guy who hid the existence of his sister from his friends.”
“That was months ago. Who did I have to hunt down last week because his inner demon convinced him to accept a suicide mission?”
“It wasn’t a suicide mission! Junpei and Getou-sensei literally came with me.”
“As if that wasn’t the blind leading the blind! You’ll lose if we start comparing personality flaws, Yuuji.”
“You both will,” Nobara inserts. “Because I have no flaws,” she grins wickedly. “I’d win.”
Her competitiveness is Megumi’s saving grace. It’ll spiral perfectly into a mini-argument to completely bury all talk of his home life. He has kept it secret from them all year, and he has no plans to change that.
“Noh, Megs is trying to use you to distract us from talking about how Gojo raised him,” Yuuji snitches astutely. “Which means it’s definitely true.”
“You don’t know that,” he narrows his eyes. He hasn’t even said anything yet.
He grins, smug, “I know what your scheming face looks like by now, Fushi.”
“I don’t have a scheming face,” he frowns.
“Not that I’ve noticed, but,” Nobara slugs his shoulder, “you’re denying the wrong part, asshole. So Yuuji’s right.”
Megumi scoffs, “Yuuji doesn’t even have any proof.”
“Except I do!” Pulling out his phone, he presents a blurry image as proof, a furtive shot of Gojo’s open wallet. “Because I saw this.”
“Two black cards?” Nobara gasps, yen signs replacing her pupils. And, you know, Megumi really likes that about her. No one could ever say she doesn’t have her priorities in order. “You didn’t get the numbers on them though.”
“No, the other corner,” Yuuji directs. “That’s you, right, Megumi?”
It’s scary how quickly he turns beet red. He can feel it, almost lightheaded with the heat.
“You were ginger, Fushi? Holy shit, is that a military haircut?”
“Okay,” he takes a deep breath, trying to take control of the situation. “Okay.”
When Megumi was seven years old, he and Tsumiki had the misfortune of happening upon a Zen’in shaman who remarked that Megumi looked just like his “father.” It was not a kind comment, meant to belittle Toji, but Megumi, claiming Gojo as his real dad, stewed about it for a different reason. He acted upon this feeling after returning home from school later that day.
He locked himself in the bathroom, soaking his head in the sink full of cleaning bleach to turn his hair white. Obviously, it didn’t work. Copper-haired Megumi cried. Gojo broke the door down and then he cried, too, when Tsumiki explained the sequence of events which led them here as best she could. Skipping all the middle parts, that’s how Megumi spent eight weeks with platinum white hair, until his hair grew out enough to chop it off and start over.
For obvious reasons, he will not explain any of that to his friends now.
Megumi commands their attention. “What will it take to never bring any of this up ever again?”
“For someone who never lets me hide,” Yuuji remarks without judgment, “you’re really secretive.”
“So you’re in for free, then?”
Nobara wants a name-brand outfit, accessories and all, and Yuuji wants a picture of The Incident. Their forever silence, Megumi reiterates, is the cost of the exchange. Nobara sends him links which get neatly forwarded to Gojo, and Yuuji vibrates excitedly in place while Megumi texts Getou for a digital copy of the photo.
Immediately, like a man without a job, Gojo shoots back a string of excited emojis, paying more for overnight shipping and an extra handbag. Megumi has to explain that this is a bribe, not a drastic change in his sense of fashion. Simultaneously, Getou, a man who needs better hobbies, sends an entire album’s worth of photos of a younger Megumi and Gojo with matching hair, plus some from both before and after. Megumi wasn’t intending to give Yuuji so many options, but whatever. It’s done.
He waves his phone, hiding its contents from his friends. “Forever silence.”
“Forever silence,” they repeat.
But they’re both dirty liars because as soon as Megumi holds up his end, they go back on their word. They bring it up all of the time. Every couple of days, it’s—
“Sometimes it’s really obvious that Gojo-sensei raised you, Fushi.”
Junpei wasn’t even there for the exposé, he was home visiting his mom. His comment only further proves that the others are lowdown, lying, backstabbing, tattle—
“Seriously!” Yuuji agrees. “Like, how did we miss the signs all year?”
Megumi doesn’t ask, but Ieiri answers, “They’re talking about how unhinged you are in a fight.” Cleaning a cut on his eyebrow, she orders, “Tilt.”
She would know, Megumi supposes, because she spent her teen years patching Gojo up after his missions just like she’s doing now for his son. Maybe one day he’ll learn Reverse Technique, too, to spare himself the humiliation of being trapped in a small room with four people intent on tormenting him.
Junpei nods, “Yeah, exactly.”
“You’re both so quick to use your most destructive play,” Nobara agrees.
“Like, y’know how Sensei loves Hollow Purple? Except his trump card isn’t a suicide play.”
Oh, so now Yuuji knows how to be sly? Megumi glares, “You weren’t even there. This was mine and Nobara’s mission, and I didn’t—”
“I already told them,” Nobara waves her hand, “about your domain—which, cool as hell, bro, we’re all big fans.”
Gojo barges in, shouting, “We’re so proud of you, Megumin! Already building a domain at the end of your first year,” he gushes. “My little genius.”
Rather than thank their teacher for batting clean-up—going so far as to file their post-op paperwork—Nobara questions, “Hey, Sensei, did you give birth or was it more like a stork situation?”
“Thirty-seven hours in labor, long but over before I knew it, thanks to the epidural,” he answers without hesitation, entirely serious. Gojo folds his hands and continues, “I am thankful for all of the scientific advancements that came before me.”
“True story,” Ieiri nods, a forever enabler of his shenanigans.
Megumi’s face falls flat. “Patients deserve privacy. You’re all dismissed.” He shoos, “Go.”
They do not. His friends and family only crowd closer, smothering his attitude with their affection.
:::
Megumi is reaping the consequences of his actions. He was shortsighted, he now knows. Because he hid the facts of his parentage for so long, there are obvious gaps in the knowledge his friends have.
Which leads to asinine conversations like this.
“Amanai-san, she was beautiful. Like, Megan thee Stallion beautiful,” Yuuji praises.
The second years just finished an overnight mission with Gojo. That guy is incapable of going to work with no play, so they also went out shopping on their way back. Now that they’ve returned to campus, the students are relaying the events of their morning to Amanai Riko—the former Star Plasma Vessel who now works admin at the college.
“And she was so confident,” Nobara adds. “That made her even more attractive.”
Amanai doesn’t get enough credit, Megumi thinks. He wouldn’t want to work in a place that nearly killed him, but he can see how it’s a Screw You to freely walk the halls after declining orders of the merger all those years ago. With Gojo and Getou’s backing, she instead graduated college and then created a job for herself, empowering herself to manage the students’ mission assignments. This allows her to impede the elders’ orders as she desires, a vocation that serves her well.
She’s the reason five sorcerers were sent after a single Second Grade curse.
Amused, she leans on her desk. “And?”
“And,” Junpei sighs, “Gojo-sensei couldn’t tell she was flirting with him.
Yuuji cries, “We watched him miss every single one of her cues!”
Megumi scowls. Amanai laughs at his plight, but the others must think she’s laughing at Gojo for being an embarrassment to all people attracted to women. A population from which, Megumi would point out, Gojo is famously excluded.
“It was so hard to watch,” Junpei shakes his head.
Nobara spares a disappointed look at their teacher. “What a waste of good looks.”
“Why are my students so mean to me?” Gojo whines. “We don’t need to share every thought we have with the world. That was a private event. It should stay private, ” he declares, a losing battle. Amanai is already snickering and typing on her phone. “I treated you to desserts in Roppongi last night!”
“And subjected us to fatal amounts of secondhand embarrassment this morning!”
“Bribing students again, Toru?” Likely due to his sixth sense for his husband’s tantrums, Getou appears suddenly behind them. “What was a private event?”
“Suguru!” He stalls, “What brings you here?”
“A private event,” he teases.
“Suguru,” he whines, angling closer. “Don’t be mean to me.”
Junpei, Yuuji, and Nobara begin again from the top, animatedly reenacting Gojo’s oblivious rebuff. Junpei, Yuuji, and Nobara don’t read between the lines as Gojo hangs off of Getou. Junpei, Yuuji, and Nobara don’t understand why Getou is so pleased by what they’re saying.
“She was way more subtle than they’d lead you to believe,” Gojo insists.
“She asked outright for your number.”
“She kept trying to touch your arm.”
“She twirled her hair and laughed at your awful jokes.”
“She—”
Getou interrupts, “Megumi didn’t help you?”
“No,” he pouts, glaring at his son. “Traitor.”
“She was asking me for directions to a nearby cafe and these idiots,” Megumi snitches without remorse, “Formation B’d me. That’s when she started flirting, and that’s why I didn’t help.”
“All I did was point her in the direction of a better place,” Gojo grumbles.
“Never change, Satoru,” Getou grins. “I haven’t laughed this hard all day.”
“I would’ve noticed if it was you,” he huffs.
He smirks, “If I was flirting with you or if she was flirting with me?”
“Both,” Gojo returns without hesitation.
“I find that difficult to believe,” Junpei snorts.
“Getou-sensei wouldn’t be able to flirt with you because he’d make fun of you instead.” Nobara sneers, “Not that you would notice either way.”
Yuuji adds, “And you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between someone flirting with Getou-sensei or just talking to him. But I guess you don’t really have to if all you wanna do is embarrass him.”
Junpei asks, “Is that what Formation A is for?”
Getou and Gojo hum noncommittally, snickering.
Megumi is so embarrassed. He’s embarrassed because of his parents and embarrassed for his friends. He puts his face in his hands and groans.
Amanai whispers to him in an aside, “Imagine how bad they were when they were still pining.”
He shudders.
Suddenly, Megumi cannot be here. “Yuuji,” he calls him to attention. “You said we’d cook today.”
“Oh, yeah! Let’s go, Fushi!”
“Ah,” Getou says. “Nobara, Maki’s waiting for you to come spar. Junpei—”
“Weapons training, yeah. I’m ready.”
“Bye, bullies. I’m going with you, Megumin,” Gojo insists. “I’ll be your taste tester!”
“Sensei,” Junpei winces, “you’re doing it again.”
Getou and Amanai snort, but this time Megumi doesn’t get the joke. A quick look exchanged with Gojo doesn’t clarify things; they’re both in the dark. This makes Nobara laugh, too, but no one else steps forward to share, so Megumi puts it out of his mind.
Cooking with Yuuji is a relatively new thing, something they started a week before their sophomore year began in earnest. Megumi wouldn’t say he was useless in the kitchen, but he can’t deny that Yuuji has helped him elevate his skills considerably in less than a month’s time. Even Gojo agrees, smiling agreeably at the whitefish they’re pan searing.
Father and son plate the food. Joining the still steaming fish on the table are rolled egg omelettes Yuuji finished after Megumi’s kept turning into scrambles, rice Gojo threw into the cooker, and nasty nattō Yuuji insisted on. Gojo gets a little too artistic about it, shuffling and reorganizing the spread of the dishes. Megumi leaves him to it, stealing a slice of the cucumber Yuuji is cutting up—to top with a “twist of lemon” as he saw in some foreign cooking show.
That’s when Tsukumo, a Special Grade sorcerer and family friend, lets herself into the kitchen with a shout, “Sato-kun! Suguru said I’d find ya here.”
“Over here, Yuki!” Gojo waves over his shoulder, focused on making the perfect scoop of rice.
“Good, yer here, too, kids,” she grins. “Lemme introduce somebody to ya!”
“Hi, Tsu—oops,” Yuuji looks up, nicking himself with the knife in his inattention.
He shakes out his hand, moving toward the sink to rinse the spot of blood away. Tsukumo’s guest, a man Megumi has never seen before, stops Yuuji before he can. He frowns, “Otouto?”
Megumi wonders idly if it’s part of Tsukumo’s technique to find brothers for Yuuji in whatever company she keeps. He wonders how Toudou will react.
Yuuji reads Megumi’s mind with a glance, then pointedly turns his back on his friend. “Nope!”
But Yuuji doesn’t shrug off the man’s hand on his arm, so the man must take that as permission to continue as he was. He presses his fingers to Yuuji’s cut, manipulating the blood in hand before tasting it.
Yuuji, understandably, freaks out. “Excuse me?!”
Megumi and Gojo guess, “Kamo?”
He recoils in distaste—a very reasonable reaction, of course, but now they’re back to square one.
“Ah, don’t mind my boyfriend—”
Pleased, said boyfriend interrupts to clarify, “Boyfriend?”
“—he’s had a traumatic brain injury,” Tsukumo finishes.
“Oh, no,” Yuuji consoles. “That’s terrible. Recently?”
She turns to her boyfriend. “Choso, baby, how old’re ya?”
Choso blinks owlishly. “This body? Thirty in November,” he recites. Then he shrugs, “My consciousness is hundreds of years old, however.”
Without missing a beat, Tsukumo turns to Yuuji and shakes her head sadly. “It was hundreds of years ago, Yuuji-kun. Absolutely tragic.”
It turns out that Choso is a reanimated Cursed Womb. Apparently, by way of some truly heinous experiments led by a madman sorcerer, Choso and Yuuji are brothers by blood. Or by cursed energy, rather—but same difference with the Kamo. This is not a fun revelation, so it’s a good thing they already have a full meal laid out to help digest the information.
“You’re a picky eater, Fushiguro,” Choso observes causally.
“Gojo’s autism was contagious,” Megumi responds on autopilot. Gojo cheers at his side, also passing on the nattō and ignoring how Yuuji harps about its health benefits.
“He doesn’t know what that is. Might have it, though,” Tsukumo laughs. “And Megumi-kun, ya got yers from yer dad!”
Unimpressed, he returns, “That’s what I just said.”
“I was talkin’ ’bout Toji, as I’m sure ya know! He was more nuanced than ya give him credit fer,” she declares, pointing her spoon at him.
“I don’t care about a man I don’t know,” he resists. “It’s this guy’s job to be my dad.”
Gojo grins, rudely ruffling Megumi’s hair. “Hell yeah it is.”
Choso nods, following along. “So Gojo is only your father when you want him to be.”
“It works for those two,” Yuuji explains, kinder than the involuntary duh that comes from them.
Tsukumo nods decisively, “I like it. Lotta folks might benefit from takin’ that kinda approach.”
Her boyfriend visibly registers then discards this idea. “I preferred simply killing my father.”
Megumi and Gojo make significant eye contact. Gojo says, “To each their own.”
“Will you do the same, little brother?”
Yuuji considers Choso’s question with a hum. “I was raised by my grandfather. He died—of natural causes! I don’t really remember my parents and I’m not at all interested in murder, so,” he trails off, probably fielding Sukuna’s useless opinion. He shakes his head, “No.”
“Our father—your mother—” Choso sneers, “Kamo Noritoshi is irrelevant. I was referring to the two of us, and about claiming your family, not killing them.” He pleads, “Will you call me Brother, Yuuji-kun?”
Tsukumo presses a chaste kiss to Choso’s cheek. “Give it time, babe.”
Yuuji does take to calling Choso Niichan over time, which goes to show that maybe Megumi’s own family isn’t so strange and embarrassing as it used to be.
:::
“That wasn’t helpful at all,” Nobara scolds. “How am I gonna impress Maki-senpai if my practice partner is such a dunce? Stay on your toes, Fushi!”
“Oh, my bad,” he says, sprawled on his back beneath her. “Next time I’ll telepathically understand that we’re practice partners. Next time you decide to hide in my room to scare the shit out of me and body slam me to the floor, I’ll make sure to put up more of a fight so that you can get the most out of your experience.”
Still sitting on him, her knees braced around his hips, she scoffs, “I don’t know why you’re being so pissy about this.”
He shouldn’t have released his shadows after he realized Nobara was just practicing with him. He should’ve returned fire. He especially should’ve attacked her once she confessed that she only tackled him to practice a surprise move Maki taught her—because Senpai was definitely flirting. God, Nobara can be so dense.
“Don’t click your tongue at me,” she snaps. “I’m the one who’s annoyed. Use your words.”
“Next time Maki springs a move like this on you, just kiss her. Hell, why wait? Go now.”
Nobara leans over him, face to face, her hands holding his chin so he can’t escape her investigation. “Are you trying to sabotage me or are you for—”
Megumi’s door opens, and in walks his father.
“Hey, Megs, I forgot to…” Gojo loses his train of thought taking in the frozen pair. After a second, he spreads arms awkwardly, as if he’s offering a hug from his stationary position in the doorway. “Welcome to queerness? The queer expansion pack?”
Offended, Nobara repeats, “Welcome to queerness?”
Gojo corrects, “The expansion pack.”
Megumi short circuits, the only thing that comes out is a confused, “We are a cis man and woman.”
“A cis man and woman can be intimate in a queer way,” Gojo defends. “You’re pan, so you oughta know, Megumin. And, to be honest, you’re a genderless blob in my head. I didn’t think you subscribed to the construct at all. Your romantic tastes for one thing, but I thought it was like,” he draws a circle with his hands, “the whole thing. Like, I know most of the time you’re a boy, but I didn’t know it was Like That.”
Megumi must be having a stroke. “What?”
“That’s the beauty of life, we never stop learning things about each other. I love you, son!”
Nobara doesn’t get off of Megumi, but she does lean back out of his face. “Wait. Now I wanna know what else you think.”
Megumi gapes, forced to face a sad truth about his friend. She’s deranged. Pathologically insane. Whoever hears Gojo speak and genuinely thinks, mm, yes, some more please is clinically unwell. Case in point: Getou Suguru. There’s no saving Nobara. This is terminal.
Unaware of the mental funeral Megumi is hosting for his friend, Gojo obliges, “Obviously, I know that you, Nobara-chan, are lesbian. If you wanna experiment with the gender line, it makes sense to try with Megumin, I see the vision. I don’t approve of the vision,” he makes sure to emphasize, “but I see it. Weird, though, ‘cause I thought you and Maki got together last month. The Children’s Day chocolates?”
“No. That was just a gag gift ‘cause I gave her chocolate on Respect for the Aged Day,” she dismisses.
“They were homemade and heart-shaped. Now you both spar and do all your grocery runs together. I think you’re dating,” Gojo argues, and Megumi kind of agrees.
“You’re full of bullsh—crap,” she harrumphs, “but I’ll forgive you for picking on me because I know you did it to avoid exposing your son’s crush.”
Gojo is wearing his blindfold, but Megumi knows his blue eyes are sparkling with mischief now. “Oh, you know about that?”
She snorts, “The only person who doesn’t know is Itadori Yuuji.”
Standing in the door Gojo never closed, Yuuji asks, “What don’t I know?”
The room freezes, staring agape at the pair newly returned from watching Human Earthworm 5. Behind Yuuji, Junpei winces with his shoulders up around his ears, trying to inch away from the incoming explosion. Lucky jerk might even succeed.
Megumi swears, “Shit.”
Nobara, recovering, runs with that. “You don’t know shit. Just walking around totally clueless.”
Now Yuuji is upset. “You guys talk trash about me when I’m not around?”
Megumi, with feeling, repeats, “Shit.”
Gojo tries, “No! We—it’s, um. Well.” He gives up. “Shit.”
“We were teasing Fushi about his crush!”
“Nobara!”
“I panicked,” she defends frantically. “Look at his face!”
Megumi is contemplating the merits of disappearing into his shadow. What are the chances that he brings Nobara, he wonders, seeing how she’s still pinning him in place? It might be a risk worth taking to escape the inevitable.
“Fushi’s crush?” Yuuji echoes. He stares with his unfairly brown eyes at Megumi. “You have a crush on someone? Who—I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. It’s none of my business and I—”
“Wait,” Junpei realizes. “This is fine.”
Gojo says, “I get it now.”
“Oh,” Nobara laughs. “Duh!”
Together, they point, “It’s you.”
Megumi chokes. “What the—you traitors.”
Nobara bounces to her feet, making her way out the door. “You’ve got it from here, boys!”
Yuuji, looking a little starstruck, blushes, “Really? You like me?”
And that’s not a bad reaction, but, you see, Megumi is already melting into his shadow and disappearing.
“Same,” Gojo nods. Abruptly, he claps his hands. “Well, don’t just stand there, Yuuji-kun! After him!”
Yuuji is very fast. Megumi’s only saving grace is that he got a head start on him and there are various obstacles in his way, but that blessing is running out. Desperate, he pushes himself to his limits.
“Why are you running?!”
Because this is all very embarrassing and Megumi is not prepared to face it. Yeah, he has a crush on his friend, but he wasn’t planning on doing anything about it! He was going to take it to the grave, like a normal person.
With what little breath he can spare, he snaps, “Why are you chasing me?!”
Yuuji, the jerk, has breath enough to laugh with incredulity, “Because you’re running!”
Of course he’s running! Now that his plan is ruined, Megumi is running for his life. He intends to keep running forever and ever, but that plan is also a wash because his fathers both absolutely despise him.
Getou catches him around the torso as they collide, a host of curses leaking from his body preemptively. “Why are you running, Megumin?”
“Not now,” Megumi tries desperately to free himself, Yuuji’s footsteps growing ever closer around the corner. “Let go, let go, let g—”
“Hi, son, I missed you, too. Mimiko and Nanako say hi.” Yuuji crashes into Megumi, tackling him to the floor. Getou watches on dispassionately. “They should wrap up their mission by dinner time.”
Yuuji cheers, “Caught you!”
Megumi covers his face, sprawled on his back. God, he could cry, this is so embarrassing. Yuuji is halfway on top of him, leaving no room for escape, his hand cradling the back of his skull so that it doesn’t hit the floor. Because, no matter what else is going on, Yuuji is so kind.
He beams, “I like you, too, Megumi!”
The sound that then escapes him is not dissimilar to that of a man dying. Yuuji just laughs, giddy and wholly focused on Megumi’s pathetic form.
“Oh, wow. You really are Satoru’s son,” Getou muses, remembering his days at Jujutsu Tech where his husband confessed to him, immediately teleported away, and remained missing for almost an entire day.
Peeling Megumi’s hands off of his face, Yuuji asks, “Can we be boyfriends?”
Megumi makes the same dying noise again, undoubtedly a hideous shade of red, but this time he manages to gather himself enough to nod. He is overwhelmed and embarrassed, not a total idiot; of course he agrees. Notwithstanding his suffocating humiliation, Megumi is impossibly gone for this pink haired teen.
“You’re so lucky your sisters aren’t here to see this,” Getou snorts.
He sucks air in between his teeth. God, he knows. Yuuji must like him an awful lot if the past five minutes weren’t enough to totally upend his image of the dark-haired teen for the worse. Megumi is obviously an emotional wreck. He can’t even speak, he’s still working on getting his brain back online.
“My boyfriend is so cute,” Yuuji coos. “Wait, sisters, plural? Mimiko and N—wait, isn’t Getou-sensei their—and did he call you his son? But I thought—”
Never mind, reboot successful. He glares, “They’re married.”
“Ohh,” Yuuji realizes, sitting up. Pulling Megumi up with him, he nods, “Yeah, that’s why you’re the way that you are.”
Affronted, Megumi recoils, “The hell’s that supposed to m—”
“Gojo and Getou and three older sisters,” he lists. “It all makes sense now that I’ve connected the dots!”
“You didn’t connect sh—”
“Is this our first fight?” He laughs, tangling their fingers together, “We’ve only been dating for like, two minutes, Gumi.”
“. . . Gumi?”
Yuuji innocently bats his pretty brown eyes at him. “I can call you that, can’t I?”
“Oh my God,” Megumi and Getou say simultaneously, embarrassed for different reasons.
“Why am I still here?” Getou mutters, scrubbing his face.
“Why are you still here?” Megumi echoes.
He decides, “I can’t leave a pair of hormonal teenagers unsupervised.”
Megumi chokes, “Hormonal—”
“Would you rather me or Satoru be here?” Getou offers.
He said “or” but if Megumi knows anything, it’s that his fathers will be double-teaming him at their earliest convenience. “Neither.”
“Not happening,” he snorts. He turns, “Now, Itadori Yuuji. If you break my son’s heart—”
“Papa,” Megumi groans. He wishes the ground would swallow him whole. Actually—it can.
Before Megumi can save them, Yuuji promises, “I won’t! I really—”
“You don’t have to answer him, Yuuji.” Megumi squeezes his hand, “Just tell me later.”
“Can I?” He laughs, “Even if I surprise you again and you make a run for it?”
“That won’t happen,” he snaps, his cheeks overly warm. Megumi might never return to normal at this rate. “Even if it does, you’d just catch me, wouldn’t you?”
“Aw, man,” he breathes. “Your face is so unfair. I don’t mind chasing you, but we’re not running away from your dads,” he insists, eyeing the way Megumi’s free hand dips into the shadows.
“You’re so filial,” he scowls.
Yuuji laughs, “Don’t you want them to like me?”
Getou claps a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Yuuji-kun. We’d love to have you over for dinner. Actually,” he checks his watch. “I hear you like to cook. Come with me.”
He tugs Yuuji to his feet in one smooth motion, leaving Megumi behind. And Getou is so intentional about it that Megumi feels that telltale shudder down his spine. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes! You’re staying here,” Gojo says, appearing out of thin air at Megumi’s back, a casual arm thrown over his shoulders. “So that we can have The Talk.”
“Papa, you know Yuuji and I don’t deserve this,” Megumi immediately bargains. Despite usually being the more reasonable one, Getou pretends not to hear his son’s plea.
“Gojo-sensei! Megumi said yes! And Getou-sensei invited me to dinner, so I’m gonna go get interrogated now by the rest of your family,” Yuuji dutifully reports, his smile wide and dazzling.
Megumi frowns, “Don’t sound so excited about it.”
“I’ve been trying to date you since our first year, Gumi. Nothing can lower my mood right now,” he assures. “I promise to be the best boyfriend ever for you, and since your family loves you so much, I’m gonna promise them, too.”
So ridiculously filial, what the hell. Megumi cuts his gaze away, though he knows it does nothing to hide his feelings. He hardly knows what to do with himself right now.
Getou snorts, leading Yuuji away. “You’re not asking for his hand in marriage.”
“Not yet,” he agrees, and Megumi is so gone, it’s not even funny.
“See, that adoring look on your face is exactly why we gotta have The Talk.”
Megumi slides away from Gojo. “We really don’t though.”
“It’s all about the birds and the bees—or, in this case, the b—” He stops. “Which one is supposed to mean guys? Birds, ‘cause they’re flashy and do all those ornate mating rituals? Or is it bees, ‘cause of the phallic imagery of the stingers? But aren’t bees mostly female?”
Megumi drags his hands down his face. “Dad, please.”
“You need to know these things,” he insists, “especially before you get married!”
It is so embarrassing to be loved by these psychos. Megumi can’t believe he loves them back.