for prompts, might I suggest a number 14 with Julian takin care of Kira, and a ‘it feels worse than it looks—no wait-‘ with Julian being a bad patient?
oh my god I finally fucking finished it.
I am SO SORRY this took so long I got hit with. the most violent writer's block ive had in a HOT minute and this had me fighting for my life. I dont even know how many times I wrote and rewrote this. I went through so many different ideas it was actually ridiculous. at one point I had something finished but it Was Not Good and I dont believe in posting writing I dont like so I scrapped it and started again
I keep waffling on whether or not I like this, but thats entirely because ive spent way too long staring at it. im sure in a few days ill actually really like it, cause I really like the dialogue, which was what I wrote out first. pulling myself out of my perfectionism, I do think I like this, and at the very least im proud of getting it down when it gave me so much trouble
again, im so sorry it took so long, but writer's block is a bitch and ive had a lot going on lately, so I hope you understand <3
for the readers- 14 on the list is "Stop pretending that any of this is ok. It's not." I did adjust that one a bit cause I was having trouble making it flow. but, without further ado, here's what I've got!
Kira slides down with her back against the wall, grinding her teeth as she clutches at her wounded shoulder. The pain is still hot, the hole burned into her skin practically still smoking. She hisses as her palm makes contact with the sticky, raw flesh, but she still clamps down.
“Anytime you wanna get over here, Julian!” She calls, her voice strained.
“Doing my best, Major!” Julian calls from where he is, hunkered down behind some debris as a makeshift shield against the barrage of disruptor fire.
This is, in eloquent terms, a right fucking mess. Getting into a fight with a bunch of Jem’Hadar soldiers is never a good thing, even when they’re prepared. When they’re not prepared, it’s even worse. And this time, they weren’t prepared. Because there weren’t supposed to be any Jem’Hadar on this planet. This was supposed to be a quick pit stop for the Defiant, replacing some whatsit that O’Brien said was damaged in their last firefight, but then there were Jem’Hadar soldiers and they’ve managed to land themselves in a whole different firefight.
It really just hasn’t been a great week.
Kira inches closer to the wall’s edge. Her grip on her phaser isn’t stable, but it’ll have to do. She takes a deep, steadying breath, and then she twists over so that she’s peering out from behind the corner. She spots the Jem’Hadar pinning them down, quick count tells here there’s 3 of them, and she snaps her phaser up to hit them with some fire of her own. The motion pulls at her injured shoulder in a way that makes her want to scream, but she bites down on it.
Julian, bless him, takes the opportunity to lunge out from behind the debris. He scrambles across the gap, barely dodging the returning fire from the Jem’Hadar, and manages to throw himself down behind the security of the wall. He plasters himself up against the wall beside Kira, right as she ducks back behind cover as the Jem’Hadar’s fire intensifies.
Kira looks at him. He looks at her. He’s breathing hard and heavy, his hair a mess and dirt and blood staining his face. She musters up a grin to tell him, “You’re late.”
Julian gives her a flat look as he turns to her. “Forgive me, it’s a bit difficult to make house calls in the middle of a battlefield,” He replies, sounding very, very tired. But then his eyes flick to her bloody hand, still clamped over her wounded shoulder, and she watches his expression shift as he clicks back into what’s affectionately referred to as doctor mode, “Let’s see that shoulder, then.”
Kira moves her hand, letting Julian get a look at the wound. She winces as he pulls aside the burnt fabric, taking a deep breath in through her nose and resisting the reflex to jerk away. “How’s it look?” She asks, mostly just to distract herself.
“Like it needs more than what I’ve got,” Julian replies, frowning, “The dermal regenerator I have will do for now, but this is deep. I’ll need to immobilize your arm,” He tells her, giving her an apologetic look, “If you move it too much, you’ll risk tearing it open again.”
“Just do what you have to,” Kira tells him, “Won’t be the first time I’ve had to shoot myself out with only one arm.”
Julian nods, and returns his attention to her wound. “Right,” He pulls his kit up and rifles through it for a second. The first thing he pulls out is a hypospray, which he quickly sticks into her neck. Kira relaxes fractionally as the painkillers immediately start to work, dulling some of the burning in her shoulder. Then he’s pulling out the dermal regenerator, and bracing his hand against her shoulder again, “Try to hold still.” He advises.
Kira just gives a tight nod, already gritting her teeth and bracing herself. She feels the dermal regenerator start to work. The hypo helps, but it doesn’t take away that burning, itchy sort of feeling of muscle and nerves and skin stitching itself back together inch by inch. She clenches her fists tight, breathing hard through her nose as Julian works.
“Sorry, I know this stings,” Julian says, “I’m doing the best I can. This regenerator wasn’t meant for a wound like this.”
Kira grunts a wordless acknowledgement. If she says anything, it’s just going to be a string of curses. Instead, she focuses on keeping her ear on the sound of disruptor fire, making sure it isn’t getting closer. If the Jem’Hadar decide to come after them, she wants to be ready.
“Done,” Julian pipes up. She looks over as he puts the regenerator back in his kit, taking the worst of the pain with it and leaving her with a dull ache, “That’s the hard part done. I’m going to move your arm now,” His hands are gentle, taking her arm and carefully easing it away from her side, “There we go. Alright, hold it there, please.”
Kira does. Julian sits back, and unzips his jacket to get at his undershirt. “This will have to do,” He tells her, tearing a couple of strips from his undershirt, “These won’t be the most comfortable, but they’ll have to do. I’m out of bandages.” He leans back in, starting to bind her arm with the torn fabric.
“Sorry about your shirt.” She cracks weakly.
“I’ll get a new one.” He replies, without so much as a smile.
She hates how flat his voice is. Hates how… unlike him, it is. Quiet, with no bite. “C’mon, Julian, where’s that boyish optimism of yours?” She asks, “I could really use a hit of it right about now.”
Julian secures the bandage around her arm. “I must’ve dropped it when they started shooting at us,” He says, not meeting her eyes, “Do me a favour, Major. Don’t pretend any of this is ok,” He sits back again, still not meeting her eyes, all caught up in taking in his work, “Cause it’s really not.” He does look her in the eye, then. And he looks so… tired.
But then, he’s looked like that for a while, hasn’t he?
Kira gives him a smile. A sad, quiet little smile. “I never said any of this was ok,” She corrects, “I’m just… used to it, at this point.” Very, very used to it. Used to it in a way she hopes he never is.
Julian considers that for a moment. His expression is hard to read- sad, maybe. Sympathetic. Then he sighs, and breaks eye contact. “Well, I suppose I’m getting used to it, too,” He scrubs a bloody hand through his hair, “We should get going. Can you walk?” He asks.
No time for sentiment, then. Kira nods. “It’s just the arm,” She assures him, “I can do a hell of a lot more than walk.”
“Good,” Julian starts to push himself up to stand, “Let’s-“ He doesn’t get far. He wobbles suddenly, his eyes widening slightly as he nearly topples right over. He barely manages to catch himself, bracing a hand against the wall before he can fall against it.
Kira quickly reaches out to steady him. “Julian?” She sits up, frowning, “What’s wrong?”
Julian frowns, confused. “I… don’t know,” He says, looking down, “I can’t feel my-“ He cuts off, suddenly, his eyes fixing on something, “Ah.”
Kira’s brow furrows. “Ah? What’s-“ She follows his gaze, and comes to the same abrupt halt as she sees just what he’s found, “Ah.”
Julian has a substantial wound in his thigh. A chunk of his pant leg has been burned away, revealing a raw, painful-looking burn that’s steadily oozing blood down his leg. Kira’s eyes widen at the sight of it. That doesn’t look good. That really doesn’t look good.
“Well,” Julian says, “That’s not ideal.” And then he sways alarmingly, nearly crumpling right to the ground.
“Julian!” Kira lurches forward, manages to catch him by the arms. He grimaces as he eases himself down, taking his weight off his injured leg, “Damnit, Julian, what were you thinking ignoring this? Gimme that tricorder-“ She reaches for his medkit, not waiting for him as she rummages through it herself.
“I wasn’t ignoring it!” He exclaims, “I couldn’t feel it! Honest!”
Kira finds the tricorder and pulls it out. “Don’t tell me they augmented the ability to feel pain out of you,” He shifts again, adjusting his position to give her a better angle to scan him, and it draws a painful hiss out of him, “Guess not.” She hums.
Julian manages a weak chuckle, the first one she’s gotten out of him all day. “Not as such,” He confirms, “I’ve just been- gah!” He grinds his molars as she pulls the burnt fabric away from the wound, “Preoccupied.” He growls.
Kira huffs softly as she reads the results on the tricorder. It’s not a fun wound. “So busy trying not to get shot that you didn’t realize you got shot?” She asks, arching a brow at him, “I’m almost impressed.”
“Only almost?” Julian asks, all mock indignation, “I’d hate to see what I’d have to do to actually impress you,” He mutters. His eyes drift down, then back up at her. He looks worried, “How bad is it?”
Kira puts the tricorder down. “How bad does it feel?” She dodges.
“Pfft, this little thing?” He scoffs, gives a weak little wave that’s probably went to ‘wave off’ the pain, “It’s nothing. Just a scratch. It feels worse than it… no. No, wait, that’s not right,” He blinks, and she can almost see the gears in his head turning as he tries to figure out the order of the words, “I don’t mean to alarm you, Major, but I think the shock might be setting in.” He tells her.
Kira can’t help but roll her eyes. “No kidding,” She says, “This isn’t my first time, Julian. Hand me the regenerator, I’ll do what I can with it.” She holds her hand out expectantly.
Julian hands it over. “Now who’s being serious?” He asks.
Kira adjusts how she’s holding him, making sure she’s holding the burnt edges of his uniform away from his skin so that she doesn’t accidentally fuse any fabric to him. “Oh, so you can make jokes,” She takes the dermal regenerator and adjusts her hold on it, making sure it won’t slide out of her hand, which is slick with blood, “I thought you dropped that along with your optimism.” She gets the regenerator going, doing what she can with the wound.
Julian chuckles again, grins at her. “I told you, the shock’s setting in,” He replies, all charm, “I’ll say anything just to say anything. Apologies, but I’m going to be talking your ear off until we get out of here.” He warns.
Kira keeps her eyes on her work, keeps her hand braced on his thigh to hold him still. “As opposed to when you don’t talk my ear off.” She counters. After a few seconds, she can see that the burn’s healed as much as it’s going to. She switches the regenerator off and hands it back to him.
“Rude,” Julian huffs, taking the regenerator and putting it back in his medkit, “How’d the regenerator do? I don’t want to look.” He’s looking even as he says it, like he can’t help himself.
“It’ll hold,” She tells him, not seeing any point in sugar-coating it. He would see right through her in a second, “For now. I’m gonna bandage it, just in case,” She adds. Now it’s her turn to get at her undershirt, tear it up for strips of fabric, “I liked this shirt, you know.” She informs him as she does.
“I suppose we’re even, then,” Julian cracks weakly, “Have I ever told you you’d make a great medic?” He asks.
There’s the Julian she knows. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” She tells him. Satisfied with her bandages, she gets them ready, “I do have one question for you, Doctor.”
Julian frowns, confused. Yeah, the shock really has set in if he can’t see what she’s doing. “Go ahead.” He invites.
Kira starts wrapping his leg. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” She asks.
He looks even more confused. “What are my-“ She yanks the bandages tight before he can finish, and he cuts off with a pitched yelp, “Fuck!”
Maybe it’s a bit mean to chuckle, but Kira can’t help it. She doesn’t often get to hear him curse. “Oh, language,” She tuts as she finishes tying the bandages off, “There. Nice and tight. That oughta hold you together till we get out of here.” She gives his knee a pat.
Julian pouts at her. “You enjoyed that.” He accuses.
“I did no such thing,” Kira replies smoothly as she pulls his medkit closer to her and starts rifling through it, not bothering to ask him, “Want a hypo?” She offers.
“No,” Julian shakes his head, making her stop short and give him an incredulous look, “I’ve only got the one left. Save it for someone who needs it.” He reasons.
Her look quickly flattens. “Don’t start with the heroics, Julian,” She advises, “You’re not gonna be treating any patients until after you’ve been treated. On the Defiant.” She doubts he can even stand on his own, let alone treat people.
“I can hold out till then,” He insists, “Someone else might-“
“Julian,” Kira cuts in, not giving him any room to argue, “Take the fucking hypo.”
Julian’s brows shoot up and he looks a little stunned. Just for a moment, though, before he huffs a bit of a laugh. “Now who needs to watch their language,” He says, his tone light and teasing, “Alright, go ahead.” He nods.
Kira takes the hypo out of his kit. “Oh, thank you,” She replies, making sure her own tone savours strongly of sarcasm, “You’re a terrible patient, you know that?”
There’s that grin again. All charm. “So Nurse Jabara keeps telling me.” He replies, like the pain in the ass he is.
“You should listen to her. She’s always right,” Kira sticks the hypo in his neck, and watches his shoulders instantly sink down a notch. She didn’t even realize how tense he was, “Better?” She asks.
Julian takes a deep breath. Probably the first one he’s taken all day. “…Much,” He admits, with the decency to look a little sheepish, “Thank you, Major.” His smile’s a bit less charm now, a bit more sincere.
Kira finds herself smiling back. “Anytime,” She says. She shoots a quick look around, regaining her bearings a bit now that they’re both taken care of. She can still hear blasters firing, but not as close. They might’ve moved off somewhere else. Or they could be waiting, “We should probably get moving.” She suggests.
“Probably,” Julian agrees, “Just one problem, though. I don’t think I can walk.” He tells her.
Kira figured. “Can you limp?” She asks, “I’ve still got two good shoulders, both perfectly good for leaning on.” She offers, patting her shoulder for emphasis.
There’s that glint in his eye. First time she’s seen it today- stubborn determination, or, in another word, cocky. “I think I can manage that.” He says.
Kira grins. “Great,” She ducks in and gets her arm around his waist, pulling him in snug against her as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, “Alright, lean on me. Steady. And…” She pushes herself up, and brings him with her. He leans heavy into her side, and she tightens her hold on him to keep him steady, “Up we go. Ready?” She asks.
Julian takes a moment to find his balance, shifting most of his weight off of his injured leg and compensating on Kira’s shoulder. “As I can be,” He tells her with a nod, “Let’s go.”
And they’re off. Making quite the sight as they hobble back into the action, pressed hip to hip and clinging tight to each other. But, hey, they’re still kicking, and they’ve still got their phasers, so they’ll make do. They always do.
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What it means to be the Strongest (j/jk)
Again writen with s/atos/ugu in mind, but unestablished, though definitely in love.
Summary: So my previous fic, if i remember correctly, had a line like:
["S/atoru, you've been too strong for too long. Let me take over, even if just for a little while."]
and then i realised i have something like that in my drafts, so why not i just develop the thought a little?
Notes: the timeline for this would be set before my previous fic [here] but reading it it isn't required to understand this one.
possibly written in the context of pre-RCT g/ojo? because i didn't want him to have the ability to replenish himself in any way. cue "Domain Amplification": Exhaustion.
there's also a point in the fic i used single inverted commas, like this: '[text]'. js to clarify, those are not actual dialogue but just g/eto's thoughts. uh.. it will make more sense when you reach that part..
And finally, to cope with the month of wait before Shibuya, I present to you..
3.4k words
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"Satoru, you've been specially requested."
"..Specially requested."
"..Specially resquested."
Geto watches as Gojo visibly deflates, before he shakes his head, expression changing as he stands up with that same bravo as ever.
"Right!! I'll prepare to leave immediately!"
The quiver in his legs don't go unnoticed by Geto.
This has been been happening for the past month. Don't they have other sorcerers that they can send?
The answer to that was obvious.
Of course there was. But who in the right mind would call on someone who was below 'the best option'?
Mission after mission, Geto finds himself missing the company of his friend. Normally, they would go on them together, but the recent spike in cases had left him with barely any space to breathe either, though he was relatively sure they were easier on him compared to Gojo.
He swears the other hadn't slept in weeks. Geto would return to their dorms, and the bed would still made the way he left it in the morning.
The few times he had tried to look under Gojo's sunglasses for eyebags, his hand had been swatted away, either physically or stopped with Infinity.
"Suguruu- I'm fine, don't worry about me."
"..Then look me in the eyes and say that again."
Gojo would laugh in response, waving his wrist dismissively in Geto's direction. "Of course I'm fine, we're the strongest, remember? It won't be fair I claimed to be tired now would it? Not that I am, of course."
Yes it would be, it would be fair. You need breaks too, Geto wanted to say, was going to say, if not for another interruption, this time from Gojo's phone.
It lit up in his lap, before the screen was raised to eye level. Geto watched as Gojo's eyebrows furrowed, shoulders slumping almost unnoticeably in disappointment.
He has seen this play out a thousand times before. As much as Geto wanted to reach out to drag Gojo back down next to him, his hand was frozen to his side.
"Another special request.. ahhh- I guess I better go get ready."
Geto watched silently as Gojo sauntered away, as if he was about to leave for a party, not a possibly life-threatening mission. Seriously.. he was forever taking things too lightly.
Geto wanted to do something, anything. Maybe file a request to give Satoru some space to breathe? Possibly even an argument that allowed him to join in the missions as backup?
Anything.
But there was always the possibility that Gojo would turn down rest, no matter how desperately he needed it. He was wearing himself dangerously thin, like a thread about to snap. All he needed was a little tug to break.
Break.
___
Days later:
"Satoru- want to go get a drink? I just saw the workers leaving, I think they got the machines refilled."
When met with no reply, Geto turned back, only to see Gojo spacing out a distance away.
"Sa-to-ru. Satoru- are you there?"
He walks up to the other, waving an open palm in front of the bowed head.
Behind the sunglasses, Geto sees Gojo's eyelashes flutter open before a finger came up to push them back into position, covering his eyes from view.
"Ah- yeah I'm here. Sorry, what were you saying?"
There he went again, dozing off at every chance he got. Geto noticed that had started happening two days ago. In class, during training, while queuing for food, while standing. And now, even while walking.
"..hH'!! ..hAH'sHHiew!! hh'..heH'tchH!!"
And there was that too. Something was definitely wrong.
"Satoru- when's the last time you slept?"
"I was just sleeping, hahaha-! Didn't you see?"
"That's not-"
"Suguru, if you're going to chew me out for not resting again, I assure you, I'm perfhH'.. perfectly.. fhH'.. fine-"
Geto shot him a look that screamed "Really??", and Gojo would have seen it, if not for the fact he snapped to the side violently, bending over as his breath hitched desperately.
"..hh'-hIH-tcHH'iew!! ..hAH'zZchHiw!!"
"Sa-"
"Dhh'..Don't worry abou'uhH'- hhH'!! hiH'zZchh!! ..hAH'DzZsh'w!! ..a-about me."
With the way he was swaying at the moment, Geto was sure a light breeze could knock him over.
What more, with the way he was standing, slouched over, a passerby would never be able to tell that Gojo was the taller of the two.
Hence, while Geto wouldn't consider himself to be one who actively sought after physical contact with Gojo (that's a lie though), he couldn't help but inch closer to the other, putting a comforting arm around Gojo's waist.
Geto then stared at the top of Gojo's head. Did his hair always look this messy? Surely not. Satoru wasn't one who paid too much attention to appearances, but this was taking it to an extreme.
"You look like you're going to collapse. Seriously. Tell me what's wrong."
"..Maybe- maybe.." Gojo mumbled as a response to Geto's earlier statement. "..Maybe I'm not feeling as well I thought.. haha-"
Geto sighs. "Took you damn near long enough. Come on, let's head back to our dorm. The drinks can wait."
Gojo whined something incomprehensible before he reached out a shaky hand to grab the arm supporting him from behind. He tilted his head up at an angle to shoot Geto a playful yet tired smirk. "Wait.. ahhh- Suguru.. s-sorry- I think.. I think I'm gonna to pass out right now."
Of course. Of course he could still find the energy to fool around in such circumstances. It was one of Gojo's character traits that Geto never understood.
He had half a mind to ask the other to snap out of it. But upon further inspection, Geto watched as Gojo's pupil glazed over with a hazy, faraway look, before it shrunk, eyelids sliding shut as Gojo went slack in his arms.
Seriously. Jokes like these should really be saved for less dire situations.
"..Satoru.. come on, let's go back."
No response.
"..Oi- Satoru.. you can't be serious. Quit fucking with me.."
No response. It's fine. Gojo liked messing with him after all.
"..S-Satoru.. oi Satoru!"
"..Fuck."
"..Fuck Fuck FUCK-! You can't be serious-"
He wasn't joking.
Forgetting that he could always manipulate his curses to handle Gojo's weight, Geto slipped his free hand under Gojo's knees, hauling him into his arms, bridal style.
"..Asshole! You're such an asshole."
'Your asshole though, right?' Geto could hear Gojo's teasing voice in his head as he made his way quickly through the hallway, his pace bordering a sprint.
That's right. My asshole.
Geto placed Gojo gently on the freshly made bed. It was probably the first time in weeks he had laid there. A soft groan escaped Gojo's lips as his head made contact with the soft pillow.
Good. He wasn't dead yet.
However, a quick touch to his cheek made Geto question his previous thought. With a fever like that, how was he not dead?
Quickly grabbing a small towel, Geto soaked it with water from his bottle, wringing it onto the floor before he brought it to the other's forehead. The mess of water puddles could wait. He had more important things to tend to.
Geto carefully folded and set Gojo's sunglasses aside, gently brushing away the strands of hair covering his face. The wet cloth was then put on his forehead.
It's not much, but it should help.
Knowing Gojo, he probably didn't take any medicine since this started. Speaking of which, Geto made a mental note to ask when it did. Gojo had been busy with a mission for the past few days, so it probably meant he was working through whatever this was.
Probably a cold.
The sneezing earlier should have been an obvious indication, but the fever he was currently running sealed the deal.
Geto knew exhaustion would eventually catch up to him. To be completely honest, he had thought Gojo would give in earlier. He must have been holding out way pass his limits.
It was alright to be weak at times, even for the 'Strongest', a concept that Gojo never seemed to understand. Either that or he did, but chose to ignore it in place of his ego and the fact that he didn't want anyone else to get hurt in his place if the curses turned out to the stronger than reported.
Geto suspected the reason leaned more towards the latter. Gojo had always cared about others in his own way, whether he considered them weak or not. Although.. with the way he openly made fun of people around him, it would cause others to beg otherwise.
Geto knew him better than that.
A soft whine drew him back into the present. Geto turned to focus his attention on Gojo. Even in the dimly lit room, his brilliant blue eyes were hard to miss, hard to look away from, no matter how dulled they were from the haze of the fever.
"Suguru.. Suguru-"
"Shh. Rest. I'm here."
"..You carried me here?"
"Mm."
Gojo let out a laugh that looked like it took all his effort. "You're stronger than you look then."
"You're just lighter than you look."
The small exchange put Geto slightly more at ease. If Satoru could still make any conversation into a joke, he was fine. Well, it at least meant his brain wasn't fried yet.
A sharp, feathery inhale dragged Geto's attention back to the bed.
"..hih'tchh!! hh'..hah'tchiw!!"
"Bless you." God. Even his sneezes sounded tired, a complete difference from his normal, over exaggerated ones.
"snff'- ..thanks."
Gojo looked seconds away from passing out again, his fist closing around the soft blanket. Sighing, Geto stood up.
"Alright, that's enough of being awake for you. Go back to sleep, okay? Let yourself rest for once."
"Hah.. so reluctant to talk to me?"
Quite the opposite, actually, Geto wanted to say. Instead, he reached over to straighten the cloth. It had fallen over to cover one of Gojo's eyes, making him look a lot more endearing than Geto would ever care to admit.
"Of course not. I just have something I have to get done, so I'll be leaving for a bit."
Geto turned away right as Gojo's frame sunk into the mattress in disappointment. If he had seen it, there was no way Geto would have left his side for another good year.
"Mm, okay."
Geto was careful not to open the door too wide. It was early in the evening, and he wanted to let in as little light as possible. Satoru had always been sensitive after all.
Behind the closed door, Gojo turned to the side, snatching Geto's pillow into his chest, pulling it into a tight embrace. He was sure the other wouldn't mind.
__
Getting pissed won't help anybody, Geto knew that, he really did. But with Gojo practically forced into bed-rest for at least half a week, he needed to raise some of his concerns to his teachers, at least.
He pulls the classroom door open.
"Sensei-"
"Ah, Suguru. Right on time. I've got a new mission file for you."
"Right. That's exactly what I've come to talk to you ab-"
"Satoru has been specially requested."
"..See that's-"
"But I've written in to specially request you to follow him."
"-exactly what I've been.. huh? What?"
The teacher gave him a knowing smile before sliding a file over the table. Of course. Always doing things in a roundabout way. He's seen that before.
"..Thank you."
He takes the file, quickly leaving the classroom afterwards, his legs taking him subconsciously back to where the dorms where as his hands occupied themselves with flipping through the documents.
Halfway through the mission file, Geto feels something slip out from between the pages. He leans forward to pick it up, a knowing smile flashing across his face.
A small packet of fever medicine.
Seems his teacher had the same idea, that Gojo would never go out of his way to get supplies, if at all, when he fell sick. Well, that saved him half the trouble.
And here came the other half.
When Geto returned to their dorm, he noticed the aura of Gojo's technique surrounding himself. It shocked him at first, but Geto figures that in his vulnerable state, Gojo's mind subconsciously casts infinity to keep him safe.
Though.. it could also have been a side effect from all the dangerous missions that they had put him through for the past month, such that his body was on heightened alert even during rest.
Well that's a first.
He hadn't really been around Gojo while he was sick before, especially not to the extent of passing out like that.
Surely this continuous usage of Infinity counted as over-exertion, evident from Gojo's slightly furrowed eyebrows despite him being asleep. His breathing was also choppier than usual, either due to the congestion or disturbed rest.
Surprisingly, Geto noticed that Infinity seemed to thin out as he approached the bed.
He remembers Gojo telling him, "Suguru- you know, I can totally tell apart your cursed energy from others!"
Was Satoru's body really recognising him and relaxing because of it? Guess that whole 'telling apart' thing wasn't a lie after all.
Geto reaches out a palm and presses it against Gojo's forehead. His hand easily passes through the barrier, making contact with the other. The damp cloth lay uselessly by the side of the pillow, having fulfilled its purpose.
Still warm, but cooler than before.
Gojo whines against the touch as he slowly stirs. "Suguruu- you're backk.."
"Mm." Geto hummed in reply, sitting himself by the edge of the bed. "Did you sleep well?"
"Ah.. not really."
The raw honesty catches Geto off-guard, especially compared to the previous few days, where Gojo would wave him off for being too worried, right up till the point he collapsed.
He supposes that upon admitting "I'm not feeling well", Gojo's walls simply crumbled, leaving him in Geto's care.
The mattress shifted as Gojo turned to the side, a wrist coming up to rub at his nose.
"S-Sorry.. I- hh' have t'hH-!! hih'tchh!! haH'zzchh!!"
He sniffles against his wrist, watching with teary eyes as Geto pulls out a small pack of travel tissues from the drawer before handing it to him.
"Th'hH-!! ..thank y-you.. hH'hihchH'iw!! hah'zzdchH!!"
He pulls out a piece, pressing it softly against his nose. Outside, the sun had barely start setting.
"..snff'.. Suguru- why are you here anyway? Don't you have better things to do?"
Better things to do than look after you? Unlikely. And your Infinity will just go up again once I leave. But of course Geto doesn't say that.
Instead, he raises the file in his hand. "Background information on a mission. I'll have to read it eventually anyway, I can do it here, I've got time."
"..A mission?"
"Yes. For the two of us, actually."
"Really?? I get to go with you this time?" Happiness seeped into his words, bringing an unconscious smile to Geto's face.
"Mm, but I doubt they'd let you go in this state."
Without even looking over, Geto swore he could hear the pout in Gojo's voice.
"Aw.. b-but I wna go with you."
"..Then get better. Quickly." Because I don't want to leave without you either. I'm never leaving you alone again if I can help it.
"Sigh- alright, alright.. I'll get some rest."
"Before that.." Geto suddenly remembered, rising to his feet to retrieve a mug. He should probably get Satoru to take the medicine as soon as possib-
Geto hears a crash behind him.
"SAtoru!"
On the floor, Gojo laughs softly at himself, hanging half off the bed.
"S-Sorry-"
"What were you doing?"
Gojo looked almost embarrassed. "Ah.. nothing, honestly.. I just.. I guess I just.. panicked when I saw you get up.. that's all. I thought you were going to leave again.."
Again? ..Oh, right. He had left for the classrooms earlier. Why didn't Satoru just say something before he did? Forget that. Why didn't he notice?
Geto quickly grabbed a mug, filling it with water before he returned to the bedside.
"I'm sorry."
"Hm? Ahh- it's okay, it's okay.. I was just saying silly things."
"No. Don't say that. It's okay to want company, to need company. That's why I'm here, right?"
"Mm, yeah."
"..Why do you sound so reluctant to admit it?"
Gojo shifted again, this time tilting his head away from Geto.
"..Suguru. Am I'm strong?"
"Mm, why the sudden question?"
"..Am I still considered strong if.. if something as simple as a cold can.. can.. hH'..hih'DzchH!! haH'tchHew!! ..snff'.. fuck. I can't even control those."
"I'd honestly be more surprised if you could." Geto replied, bringing the mug up to Gojo's lips. His voice sounded harsh, and the constant sneezes were not helping. "C'mon, look over here, you should drink something."
Gojo sighed, shifting the tissue away to drink from his mouth.
"Take these too."
"..Medicine? Where did you get those from?"
"Sensei."
"Ahh- damn. He really knows everything doesn't he?"
"Anyone on the outside could tell that you were wearing yourself thin, not just him. Shoko had her fair share of worries for you as well."
Gojo remained silent upon hearing that, seemingly very interested in the cup he was drinking from.
Geto felt his heart skip a beat. Had he said something wrong? Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that fact it was obvious.
The silence lasted for a few moments, before Gojo inhaled sharply, turning to the side.
"..hH'-aH'zZchH!! hah-hH'tcHHiw!! hiH'dzZch'w!! hH'!!-..snff- hehh'tchhiw!"
Geto startled at the fit, though he quickly collected himself, eyes focusing on what appeared to be an extremely sorry Gojo.
In his hand was the empty mug, its contents having been spilled all over the blanket from the violent jerks, a side effect of the sneezing.
"..I'm s-orry.."
Geto paused in his actions of retrieving a cloth for the mess. Something was wrong. Satoru had a voice break? No matter how cute it was (god forbid he admit that), he had never heard the other say anything with such a broken tone before.
Forgetting the cloth, Geto quickly returned to Gojo's side, wrapping his arms around the shivering frame of Gojo's body, head resting above his.
Gojo froze in place, shocked at the sudden but welcomed contact. The mug in his hand slowly slipped off his fingers, falling onto the covers. A small whine escaped his lips yet again as Gojo's fingers repurposed themselves with grabbing gently at Geto's arm.
He found himself leaning into the warm embarce, turning his head slightly such that his cheek could rest against Geto's chest.
Gojo had longed for this for days. Days. Days. He could feel tears starting to form at the corner of his eyes. From the cold or from his overflowing emotions? He had no idea.
"Suguru. Come lie down with me, please?"
He didn't need to be asked twice.
Within seconds, Geto had climbed onto the bed, getting comfortable under the covers as he extended a hand to Gojo.
"Come. Leave that side. It's wet." An excuse to get Gojo into his arms.
Gojo crawled over to where Geto was waiting, instantly latching onto the other the moment he got close enough to do so.
As Geto's arms close around him once again, Gojo realised that he had never felt so.. so safe, so.. comforted, before. It was a new feeling, one he was afraid of yet welcomed.
He had only known Suguru for a year, but damn was the guy making him question his own feelings left right and center.
A hand found itself on the back of Gojo's head as he snuggled closer into Geto's chest, burying his nose into the folds of Geto's shirt.
Drowsiness slowly started to take over as Gojo felt like this was the first time in forever he was truly allowed to relax. Was it from the medicine? Or was it from Geto's steady heartbeat that was lulling him to sleep? In all honesty, it didn't matter.
Geto felt Gojo relax in his embrace. Once the stuffy soft snores started to slip into a rhythm, he tilted his head downwards, whispering in a low, soothing voice.
"Satoru, you've been too strong for too long. Let me take over, even if just for a little while."
That was the last thing said for the night, as Geto himself started to drift off into sleep, the sun setting behind him
Unknown to the other, Gojo's lips curled into a smile.
Really.. the things Suguru says when he thinks no one is listening. It was going to be the death of him one day.
-end-
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Finishing notes:
this fic actually stemmed from the phrase "what if Gojo's Infinity came up by itself when he's sick?" then it.. became.. this.. somehow..
decided to change their roles here ahhh- caretaker Getoo-
maybe i wrote Gojo a little out of character with the amount of clinging he did to Geto (also the whole DON'T LEAVE ME panic of a sick person in bed), but hey. i'm a strong advocate for clingy sick Gojo, sue me.
i also wanted to keep up the soft Gojo writing, soo i tried the whole "strong character falls weak to a cold" trope thing
BUT i also know for a FACT that i was NOT going to be satisfied if i just let Gojo go out like that, so i tried making his collapse scene exclusively *him*
by that i mean i tried making it slightly humorous. ahh well if it ended up not coming out like that.. it's still fine
also wanted to write a whole "Gojo pretending he's alright when he's not" fic, and was trying to capture the whole "once he admits he's not okay, everything comes crumbling down and he's a mess" thing
i feel like a lot more could have been written in this fic.. but the problem was i didn't know how to.. shshhdhshds im getting better i swear (abit more of this in the tags)
i hope the final scene read as soft as i was hoping it would. just picture Gojo sinking into Geto's hug, smooshing his face against Geto's chest, whining a whole bunch, breathing in his scent
..or maybe scratch the scent part, since Gojo's nose is a little congested//
anyway, hope it was a nice read and thankyou for stopping by!!
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