( Easier than saying that he does too, that he feels like half of him has been missing all these years. It was something he forced himself to ignore, but here, the absense is glaring. )
Are you finished eating? Do you have a bed here? I can stay and clean up and guard the place, you can get some rest.
[ he could let getou stay and tidy up after dinner, sit watch on the couch while he sleeps in what's technically his bedroom. ]
[instead, he watches getou for a long moment before setting his bowl down and flopping right down into his lap. his arms wind around getou's waist and even if it's too familiar, gojou buries his face into getou's stomach and exhales. he thinks half the tension in his head melts just from that. ]
( It's so typically Gojo to do that Geto doesn't even consider pushing him off. Instead he merely reaches to the couch behind him to get a cushion, wedge it in the space between furniture and himself. )
And you said I'm the demanding one. I can't clean up like this.
( He can cover things though, maybe that will help. He busies himself with it for a second, and then as if unbidden his hand drops away from the table to bury fingers in his old friend's hair. )
[ mumbled against the loose fabric of getou's shirt, he sighs softly against. each pet of his hair has him humming happily, tension leaking out of his neck and shoulders when getou's fingers brush the short, sheared undercut. ]
That twists something in his chest, a sharp desperate little feeling. Instead of speaking more, he falls silent, fingers sliding to briefly cover Satoru's eyes with the palm of his hand. Let it be easier, let him rest. That's what he's here for, isn't it? To give his old friend the chance for a break. )
[ and - he wants to stay awake, he does. he'd forgo sleep for days to sit and catch up more with suguru. make him laugh, be teased mercilessly like no time has passed at all. pretend, just for a night, this is their life and things are okay. the way they should be.
but he's always felt safest sleeping near getou, even if he's a man most people would be too terrified to let their guard down with, now. it's not long before he's curled up against him, breaths evening out, no trace of infinity anywhere between them.
( Gojo sleeps, Geto lets him sleep, and then when he wakes up again the parting is a little less strange, a little more sweet. Promises are made, plans hatched. He shows up at their appointed meeting time as he says he would, dressed casually again in loose trousers and a t-shirt with some anime character on, hair up in its half bun. He's carrying two drinks, one slightly more neon than the other, and when he sees Gojo on the street he raises it in greeting cheerfully. )
Do you still like to rot your teeth, Satoru? ( A cheerful, boyish greeting. ) I thought you might, so I picked for you. Mimiko likes this one anyway, I think it's grape?
( Ice cold and sweet, his own slightly more bitter. He passes it over anyway, his gaze on Gojo's face and his covered eyes. )
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( Easier than saying that he does too, that he feels like half of him has been missing all these years. It was something he forced himself to ignore, but here, the absense is glaring. )
Are you finished eating? Do you have a bed here? I can stay and clean up and guard the place, you can get some rest.
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[instead, he watches getou for a long moment before setting his bowl down and flopping right down into his lap. his arms wind around getou's waist and even if it's too familiar, gojou buries his face into getou's stomach and exhales. he thinks half the tension in his head melts just from that. ]
Mm'fine here.
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And you said I'm the demanding one. I can't clean up like this.
( He can cover things though, maybe that will help. He busies himself with it for a second, and then as if unbidden his hand drops away from the table to bury fingers in his old friend's hair. )
You're going to get a bad back, Satoru.
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[ something a younger him would have said, too, uncaring for anything except what they're doing in the present moment. ]
[ he's more than happy to sacrifice leftovers, especially the second getou's hand comes to bury in his hair, pushing into the touch greedily. ]
I have reverse cursed technique running 24/7 so my brain doesn't cook, remember?
... but we can move to the couch or the bed if you need it.
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You're already comfy, it's fine.
( He's busy petting him either way. )
At least for a little while, and then the bed. You want to actually get some good from resting.
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[ mumbled against the loose fabric of getou's shirt, he sighs softly against. each pet of his hair has him humming happily, tension leaking out of his neck and shoulders when getou's fingers brush the short, sheared undercut. ]
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That twists something in his chest, a sharp desperate little feeling. Instead of speaking more, he falls silent, fingers sliding to briefly cover Satoru's eyes with the palm of his hand. Let it be easier, let him rest. That's what he's here for, isn't it? To give his old friend the chance for a break. )
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but he's always felt safest sleeping near getou, even if he's a man most people would be too terrified to let their guard down with, now. it's not long before he's curled up against him, breaths evening out, no trace of infinity anywhere between them.
time skipping ~
Do you still like to rot your teeth, Satoru? ( A cheerful, boyish greeting. ) I thought you might, so I picked for you. Mimiko likes this one anyway, I think it's grape?
( Ice cold and sweet, his own slightly more bitter. He passes it over anyway, his gaze on Gojo's face and his covered eyes. )
How are you?