#sukuna definitely noticed fushiguro staring at yuuji and also his gay panic whenever he was caught

[not-delicious-milk]

unspoken

pairing | fushiguro megumi x itadori yuuji, kugisaki nobara x zenin maki

content | um i think this counts as slow burn maybe, idk instrospection? sort of fluffy and sort of angsty? just two emotionally constipated bois and one (1) really bad wingman. or maybe a great wingman. depends on how you look at it. i think this is funny.

word count | 3.2k

form | oneshot

originally posted | 30 December 2020

author's note | i really wanted to make a joke about sukuna having 2 dicks but unfortunately there was no opportunity to. also i did all that research about heian period courtship and what did it amount to? like 3 sentences

He met Fushiguro's eyes, and balked slightly at their intensity. They always seemed to bore right through him, as if his skin was glass and Fushiguro interested himself more in what lay underneath. Not that there's anything he cares about in there.

"You're not hurt, are you? I did push you kind of hard."

Yuuji shook his head quickly. "No, I'm fine." He tried to set his mouth in a neutral line, like Fushiguro so often did.

Fushiguro nodded curtly, and turned to leave, back to where Ijichi was waiting with the car. Yuuji's fingers twitched.

or

yuuji doesn't know how to talk to fushiguro. sukuna "helps."

Fushiguro sure looks nice today. 

Yuuji sighed and looked away. He really needed to focus on the mission. There was a grade 2 curse somewhere on the premises of this abandoned building, and if he kept staring at Fushiguro, he'd probably get— 

"Look out!" Yuuji was only briefly aware of the curse's presence before he was aware of concrete, a dull throbbing in his side as he realized Fushiguro just saved him — again — and was busy siccing his Divine Dog on the curse that appeared while he was distracted. 

This is embarrassing, he grumbled to himself. 

You've got that right.

Yuuji did his best to tune out Sukuna's voice as he got up and into battle position. Fushiguro seemed to have the situation under control, so he focused on cleaning up the lower-grade curses swarming around them. 

Something flickered at the edge of his perception. This time, he wouldn't be caught off guard — Yuuji launched himself at the curse on the other end of the room, intercepting it before it had the chance to so much as look at Fushiguro.

"I didn't need your help for that one," scoffed Fushiguro as his Divine Dog slunk back into his shadow. "Honestly, I could have done this alone. Don't know why you insisted on coming."

Yuuji bit back a retort. "I need the experience, right?"

He met Fushiguro's eyes, and balked slightly at their intensity. They always seemed to bore right through him, as if his skin was glass and Fushiguro interested himself more in what lay underneath. Not that there's anything he cares about in there. 

"You're not hurt, are you? I did push you kind of hard." 

Yuuji shook his head quickly. "No, I'm fine." He tried to set his mouth in a neutral line, like Fushiguro so often did. 

Fushiguro nodded curtly, and turned to leave, back to where Ijichi was waiting with the car. Yuuji's fingers twitched. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Movie night was usually somewhat less stressful than fighting a curse. Usually. 

The film was something Yuuji was pretty sure Gojo-sensei had found at the very back of the clearance shelf. The DVD store probably paid him to take it off their hands. It wasn't even so bad it was good, it was just bad. 

Kugisaki had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of the opening credits. At first, he'd been a little confused and concerned for her health — it was only 6 pm, after all — but sneaking a peek at her phone screen when it lit up intermittently afforded him all the clues he needed. Kugisaki had been texting Maki-senpai, probably for a while, and probably all night. 

Her phone screen lit up again — they were a few hours into the movie, and surely Maki realized she wasn't going to respond, right? Yuuji strained his eyes and recognized the thumbnail of what could only be described as a cursed image. Is that a floating banana? What the— 

Something stirred in his chest. Jealousy? Why? Because Maki and Kugisaki had only been texting for a couple of weeks, and they already shared inside jokes that made Kugisaki laugh like a hyena in the middle of the night? Because they never needed to ask, to confirm, before sharing something — a word, a bag of chips, a seat, a jacket? Because when Kugisaki looked at Maki, with that vulnerability in her eyes that she always disguised with harsh words and thinly veiled threats of violence, Maki looked back?

Yuuji couldn't stop himself from looking at the other person on the couch with him. Fushiguro looked like he was going to cry of boredom. Or punch someone. Or both. 

Should I switch the movie? I don't think he likes it. 

Well, Gojo-sensei picked it. He would probably be offended.

Yuuji looked around. His teacher was conspicuously absent. No way! He's the one who forced us all to watch this shit, and he just leaves before it's over?

"Hey, um…" The question was past his lips before he could stop himself. "Fushiguro, is there something you'd rather…" Yuuji already knew what his answer was going to be. There were plenty of things Fushiguro would rather be doing, let alone watching. Reading a book, for one. Alone. 

He received only a vague shrug in return. "Do whatever you want."

Yuuji found himself staring blankly at the floor. An oppressive silence blanketed the room, even with the vague sound effects and poorly dubbed dialogue coming from the TV. 

This is torture. Say something already.

I would if I could, okay? Unless you have any better ideas.

That managed to shut Sukuna up, at least for a moment. Good. All that was left was to sit through the last scenes of the movie and go back to his room and scream into his pillow. 

Yuuji could feel his forehead flushing and his eyes starting to burn. Oh, no no no no no. Why is this so awkward? At least Fushiguro can't see anything since all the lights are off. Or maybe he can see in the dark, like a vampire? Come to think of it, he is pretty pale… He's probably not saying anything to be polite. I bet he can see everything. I bet he's reading my mind right now with that stupid look of his. 

"I need to go to the bathroom," Yuuji said, a little louder and a little higher than he intended. Fushiguro only raised an eyebrow at him and went back to watching the screen.

As soon as he was out of the dorm common room, Yuuji sucked in a breath of air. 

"Coward."

This time, the cold voice he was so used to hearing came from the back of his hand. Yuuji didn't have anything to say in response. If he did, it would only be in agreement. How pathetic of him. 

"You're damn right that it's pathetic. It's a miracle you can even stand up straight, given your lack of a spine."

Yuuji was almost at the door to his bedroom. 

"I'll help you, just this once."

He froze. Since when did Sukuna help with anything?

"I don't believe you," he muttered.

An eye opened on his hand just to roll itself at him. "I'm the one who has to listen to your self-deprecating monologues, and I'm getting sick of it. Just tell him how you feel, brat." Sukuna's disembodied lips curled into a smirk. "If you don't, I will."

"No way!" Yuuji whisper-shouted. He practically sprinted into his room and, in the absence of a lock, pushed a chair behind his door to grant the illusion of privacy. But Sukuna wasn't done yet, and the next time he closed his eyes, Yuuji found himself ankle-deep in what he really hoped wasn't blood, and looked up a pile of ox skulls at the last person he wanted to hear romantic advice from. 

Sukuna absentmindedly picked at long, black nails. "Why don't you switch with me? I'll be sure not to embarrass myself, so don't worry about that."

"That's kind of creepy. Aren't you like, a thousand years old?" Yuuji wrinkled his nose. "Do you just want him all to yourself?"

Sukuna made a face. "Oh, that's disgusting." He made a retching sound, like a cat coughing up a hairball. "Imply that again and I'll kill you in your sleep."

Yuuji was, at the very least, thankful that the murderous curse sharing his body had standards.

"Now the image is burned into my brain. Look at what you've done, brat." Yuuji only recognized the sensation of being cut into pieces and immediately restored because of how many times his conversations with Sukuna had ended that way. Still, he stumbled a little at the sudden disorientation. 

"Hmm." Sukuna tapped his nails on a skull. "Brat, what have you been educated in?"

"Huh? Aren't you the one who complains about having to sit through my algebra classes? You already know what I'm educated in. Um," Yuuji furrowed his brow. "I took piano lessons when I was 8? Not that I was any good at it."

Sukuna sighed. "I don't care about your algebra or your piano lessons. I mean your courtly skills."

"Uh."

Yuuji heard the creaking of bone, and he was met with two pairs of blood-red eyes suddenly before him. 

"Calligraphy? Poetry?"

"No…?"

Sukuna leaned in closer. "So, nothing then? You know nothing?"

Yuuji pushed him away. "Um, you've seen my handwriting."

"Kids these days." Sukuna clicked his tongue. "How standards have fallen."

"You know, a lot of things have changed between now and when you were alive. For one, there's this new thing called personal space."

The curse ignored him. Yuuji blinked and saw the ceiling of his dorm room, back at home in his body. 

Do you at least have a brush, then?

No, weirdo. I have a pen, if that's good enough for you.

Tch.

Seriously, how are you this far behind? I thought you were starting to get this modern era stuff. 

I am trying to salvage the situation you've put me in, brat. How will you write a letter to him without putting care into your calligraphy?

Nobody said anything about a letter! 

This is how it was done in my time. You certainly don't have any better options.

"Fine, I'll Google it then," Yuuji mumbled. He opened his laptop, his fingers hovering over the keys. Slowly, he typed out "how to tell someone you like them."

The advice was all very vague. It was awkward enough to admit to himself that he liked Fushiguro in a way that went past friendship. It was worse that Sukuna's eye was wide open on his cheek and reading everything he did, reminding Yuuji somewhat of a teacher hovering behind him in the computer lab and reading over his shoulder. 

"It says you should give him a gift. I have an idea." Yuuji didn't want to hear Sukuna's idea. "You should give him the carcass of a beast you slew yourself." Yuuji didn't want to hear any more of Sukuna's ideas. 

"Sukuna, have you ever actually done this before? Because I don't think that would work, even if it was a thousand years ago."

"Why would I need to do such a thing?"

That was a little surprising. "Well, you sounded so confident, I thought you had experience or something."

"Love is a fruitless endeavor. The only thing that matters in this world is the spilling of blood upon the earth, and everything that comes between. But you're so annoying that I decided to stoop down to your level so I could help you. You should be grateful."

"Stoop down to my level? What, is this wounding your pride?"

"My pride isn't something so easily scarred. Hearing your constant chattering, all revolving around that Fushiguro boy, is much more painful than condescending to help you." 

"What's with the flowery language all of a sudden?"

"You really are uncultured."

"Well—" 

The sound of someone knocking at his door startled Yuuji out of his carefully constructed comeback, laced with a few choice words he'd learned from Kugisaki the last time she stubbed her toe. 

"Itadori? The movie's over." Oh fuck. "You left your phone on the couch." The doorknob rattled. 

"Uh, just a second!" Yuuji slammed his laptop shut and dragged the chair out of the way before opening the door.

Fushiguro blinked. "Itadori, were you watching po—"

"Nope! No, I wasn't," Yuuji said, fully aware that every word he spoke only cemented that conclusion in Fushiguro's mind. "I'm just going to take my phone now. See you tomorrow!" 

Yuuji grabbed his phone and made a move to close the door, but Fushiguro caught his wrist. His grip was firm and cool to the touch. 

"You've been acting strange lately. Did something happen?"

"I'm fine," Yuuji said automatically. His lips had probably memorized the shape of those words by now. 

"No, you aren't." Fushiguro's grip tightened a little, as if worried that Yuuji would try to snake out of it. I could try. I'm stronger than him.

"Itadori, look at me."

Shakily, Yuuji turned. Blue eyes met hazel. He felt naked somehow under the spotlight of Fushiguro's penetrating gaze. Oh god, that sounds so wrong. I don't want to think about that, not now.

"Is it something I said? Or did something else happen to you? I want to know." 

(It had nothing to do with anything Fushiguro said, and everything to do with what he didn't.)

Itadori. I need you.

"I said I'm fine."

"And I said you're not." Fushiguro sighed a little and closed his eyes. The flutter of his eyelashes was distracting. "I'm worried about you."

Fushiguro? Worried about him? 

"Why?" Yuuji knew it was a stupid question, but he was feeling pretty stupid at the moment. "Why would you do that?"

"Why—" Fushiguro's grip on Yuuji's wrist loosened in surprise. Yuuji twisted himself away, ready to cache himself in his room, but Fushiguro caught the sleeve of his hoodie instead. Worse, he stepped inside and uncomfortably close to Yuuji.

He could already feel his face turning red, and this time he couldn't rely on the cover of darkness. 

"You're seriously asking me why I worry about you?" Fushiguro's voice didn't sound quite as even as it usually did. Yuuji didn't let himself hope it was concern. "You died in front of me, Yuuji. I… I had nightmares about it for months. Of course I'm worried."

He didn't know if it was Fushiguro's sudden use of his first name, or the quiver that accompanied it, but Yuuji's blood froze. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. 

Fushiguro positioned himself in front of Yuuji, and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. His sapphire-blue eyes, normally so cold and distant, glittered with repressed tears. Yuuji stared at his lips instead. They looked so soft. Fushiguro had been biting them again; they were slightly flushed and raw in some places. 

"Please." Fushiguro was barely whispering now, his words only meant for the two of them. "I don't…"

I don't want to lose you again.  

Yuuji opened his mouth to speak, but didn't know where to start. How could he claim insecurity now that Fushiguro had been so vulnerable with him? His anxieties suddenly seemed very small and pitiful in the face of the burden he'd saddled on his friends. It was his fault that Fushiguro was close to tears now, when he could face curses on his own without a flicker of fear. Dark, thick shame sat heavily in his throat, and all he could do was gasp for air. 

You should take off your shirt.

Indignation replaced guilt in one swift motion. I am not taking off my shirt. 

"Sorry, Fushiguro." The apology was too quick, too shallow. "I'm sorry. For… everything." The back of his throat stung. "I'm sorry for bothering you. Please, just…" Just go. Just leave me alone. 

Just leave me to die. 

"You don't have to worry about me."

It's only going to hurt you in the end.

"I'll be f—"

Fushiguro grabbed him by the back of the head, subtracting from the distance between their faces. "How many times are you going to say you're fine? Is it so hard to believe that I care about you?" 

Don't say it. 

"Is it so hard to consider that I—" Fushiguro's voice broke. A gentle flush crept across his neck as he seemed to realize how close their faces were. 

Yuuji's vision blurred around the edges. Time crawled to a standstill, and there was nothing but the slope of Fushiguro's lips, trembling with words unsaid. Yuuji could hear his heart beating in his ears. He wondered if Fushiguro could hear it too, and if he felt some small comfort in knowing that the heart he had seen torn from its body and discarded like offal had been restored, and that it could beat and bleed and break again. 

"Would you just kiss him already?" 

Yuuji would have liked to think Sukuna had kept that comment for his ears only, but the way Fushiguro reeled back and turned beet red confirmed otherwise. 

"Your purple prose is getting on my nerves. I think I preferred it when you couldn't string sentences together." The lips on his cheek curled. "Honestly, if you had just taken your shirt off like I said, this would have been over already. I should have done it for you."

"What do you have against shirts? Haven't you ruined enough of my hoodies?"

Fushiguro cleared his throat. "Um."

Yuuji's face burned. "Oh. Uh. Sorry about that."

"What is it with you and apologies? You don't have to be sorry for everything." But Fushiguro was laughing. His mask had cracked, or perhaps he removed it himself. 

Yuuji couldn't help but smile. "I'll stop being sorry when you stop acting like you don't need anyone."

Fushiguro's face darkened slightly, as if wrapped in a shadow. "Is that what it was? I—"

Yuuji punched him lightly in the arm before he could apologize. "You're so emotionally constipated." 

The tiniest of grins played on Fushiguro's lips. "So…" He leaned in closer. "What was that about kissing me?"

And this time Yuuji leaned into it, letting Fushiguro take everything he had. His eyelashes, still wet from almost crying, brushed against Yuuji's face as they breathed each other in. Yuuji found himself clinging to him like a lifeline, as if any moment he might slip away.

I'm not going to leave you behind.

He was laughing and crying at the same time. "I never thought you liked me back," Yuuji gasped when he broke away for air.

Fushiguro traced his thumb under Yuuji's eye. "You really are dense, you know that?" "So I've been told."

Is this what I was looking for?

Yuuji melted into him, kissing him like a drowning man gasps for air. How could he have deluded himself into thinking he was alone? How, when Fushiguro's body fit him like a puzzle piece, and they were embracing each other like they had never been separate? 

You're welcome. Brat.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

"You know, I thought you'd at least notice all the times I was staring at you," Fushiguro mumbled sleepily. Their rhythm had slowed and now Yuuji was small and limp in his arms, playing with a strand of his hair. 

"Nope. Not even once." A sea of drowsiness threatened to engulf Yuuji, but he stubbornly resisted, if only to stay with Fushiguro for a moment more. He suppressed a yawn. 

"Gojo caught me watching you train once. He tortured me about it for a week." Fushiguro chuckled softly. "Um, he takes a lot of pictures of you. If you ever find a really blurry photo of you sparring in my room, that's why."

"Mm-hmm." Who knew Fushiguro was so warm? 

"Hey."

Yuuji's gaze flickered up to Fushiguro's eyes. Oh, he thought. They're so open. I can see right through him. 

"I'm here. Okay?"

I'm not going anywhere.

"Okay."

Neither am I.

And there was nothing but Fushiguro's breathing, and the heaviness of sleep, and the weight of words unspoken between them. 

#i spent too long on this #pov: you use too many italics #can you tell this is the first time i've written a kissing scene #normally the stuff i describe in too much detail is cosmic horror and horrible gore #don't ask #i was a troubled 7th grader #sukuna definitely noticed fushiguro staring at yuuji and also his gay panic whenever he was caught #he just didn't feel the need to say anything #tag yourself i'm is that a floating banana #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itafushi #fushiita #itadori x fushiguro #nobamaki #makibara #what even is the ship name for that #nobara x maki