hs!gojo x f!reader x hs!geto
@sixeyesonesoul they kiss :3…
wc: 4.4k .. i got carried away LMFAOOO
tags: angst (sorryyy geto), kind of suggestive? (mentions of motorboating) we get fluff before the angst though right!
You walk into last period, books carried by your lanky best friend. You could get used to this. Not lifting a finger rocks. The thought flickers—when did Gojo become someone you could get used to?—but you push it away. Later. You'll think about it later.
You notice him carefully making sure not to drop your stuff, even though he hardly drops stuff anyway. You sit with him at the back, that way you can avoid attention whenever he starts with his antics. He’s always vibrating, raising his hand to ask a patronizing question to the teacher– of all people, or annoying you with incessant whispering, tugging on your hair, or poking you. You’ve gotten used to it, this is obviously the universe sending you an unruly little brother in place of your cold, older sister.
Now, he’s acting differently. Actually taking notes, only raising his hand for clarifying questions. When the lesson ends and there’s time to do homework, he opts for the whiteboard behind you with a jerk of his head. You follow suit.
“Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s s’posed t’be done like this…” He says, focused, long body trying to slightly write lower than his natural range allows so you can see what he means. He’s right behind you, long body caging you in, his scent almost oceanic, somewhat salty, he smells like how one would imagine clean to smell.
Lightly pushing you aside by the small of your back so he can finish the homework question properly. “See?” He says, not a hint of malice or smugness in his tone. He sounds a bit unsure of himself, even though you know he knows he’s right. “Oh, alright,” you mused. You finished a similar question with the method he used and arrived at the correct answer. “Hm. Would ya look at that, you’re actually smart for once!” You say, cheekily. “You finally noticed!” he replies, sarcastically. You punch him in the arm, the bell rings, the braid is still there, unnoticed by you.
Gojo catches Geto waiting by his car with his keys in hand. “Sweet!” he says, catching them as the black haired boy tosses them in his direction. “I can drive you home if you want,” he says, focused on opening the car. “Sure.” Geto curtly replied. The engine once again springs to life, Gojo’s less patient than Geto when driving, already trying to ram his way out of the parking lot when literally everyone is trying to do the exact same thing, slamming his head against the steering wheel in sheer frustration.
“Man, fuck this shit. Suguru, can you put on some music? I need a distraction.” Distractions when driving may not be the best idea, Satoru. He thinks, he turns on his playlist filled with loud music he knows Satoru likes anyway. “Sooo…” he starts, half awkwardly, half with his never ending amused lilt. “What’d you and our bestie get up to at the bookstore, hmm? Find anythin’?” “She found some books, hasn’t found the one she’s been dying to find though unfortunately. I found a manga we both like, ended up buying it for her. What’d you get up to?” Suguru replied simply. Gojo nodded, processing.
"Cool, cool." A pause. "So you just... hung out?" Suguru nods, urging him to continue talking because anything else he says will feel like a betrayal. “Uhh, ya know, I really did jack-shit fuckin’ nothing. ‘Looked at the next Chem lesson ahead tryna be productive ‘n almost took a nap. Ended up walkin’ the halls, lurking around I guess.” Gojo admits, he was kinda bored without his best friends, wondered if coming with them would’ve been the better option. Best not think about it now, he guesses.
Suguru pictures his lanky best friend lurking the halls trying to find freshmen vaping or something, or gawking at someone doing stupid shit like a lightpole come to life. This elicits a laugh. “Yeah, sounds like you.” he remarks. Not without noticing the braid sticking out of the side of his best friend's head. His breath catches, right he thinks, of course. He looks away. Out the window. At the cars crawling home.
Gojo, randomly, in a calm but somehow frantic manner turned to his best friend. “Not gonna lie man, I am scared shitless about tommorrow. Y’gotta tell me about your gentleman tactics, how do my parents love you? How can I get hers to love me?” He almost whispered the last part, the entire moment coloured by his tight and nervous voice. Suguru’s jaw ticks. “Just be nice, alright? Parents like things they know, don’t honk when you’re in her driveway, come to the door and knock, introduce yourself plainly and only make jokes if her dad opens anything up. Compliment ‘er mom, moms love that shit, but don’t be some robot alright? Be cool, or, as cool as possible I suppose. She’ll like it if you’re a bit of a mess around her though, probably think it’s cute,” he pauses. “Or somethin’.” he says that last part rather quietly.
Gojo nods, pulling into his best friend's driveway. “See ya!” he yells through a rolled down window, driving out towards his house.
Friday, the fateful day, date day. But none of you think of that last part, none except Geto at least.
The day goes by in a blur, the three of you sitting together at lunch and arguing about whatever during your spare period, you go with Gojo to your last period, and Geto walks away with only his books in tow. Gojo, excited after a night of mulling over places with Suguru, decides you’d like a vintage store the best, as opposed to a thrift store where nice items are harder to come by. Suguru told him about you liking older jackets because they’re cut nicer or something, and a nice older jacket would probably be more abundant in vintage stores.
Gojo, not being as apt in fashion, decided that made enough sense and texted you about it. How about a vintage store? He sends, pacing in his head waiting for your response. I’m down, You reply. Nice, he thinks. Perfect. Before he knows it Calculus is over, and you’re walking with him towards his car, just the two of you for what it felt like the first time ever. You’re sitting with how things have been changing recently, hopeful that this stays consistent and he’s actually changing.
All that’s left is him opening up, but you’ll think about that later.
“We’ll show up ‘n steal all the good shit from those eBay scalpers huh?” He says, with a fond smile and a ruffle of your hair as he opens up the door for you, more conscious of being polite now. You laugh, looking up at him with eyes he’d never seen directed towards him. They looked big, and happy, like someplace he could get lost in. Suguru silently watches as he walks to his bus stop, knuckles whitening against his backpack strap, he wonders what Satoru said. He doesn't have to wonder for long. He'll hear about it later. In detail. From Gojo's grinning mouth. And he'll listen, and he'll smile, and he'll say "nice, man" like he means it.
Because he does mean it. That's the worst part.
The drive to the store is eventful, backpacks left in the backseat, clunky, but that’s what you get when you plan something directly after school you suppose. He chose slightly different attire now, usually sporting t-shirts with jeans or cargo pants with sneakers, he chose a nice sweater, cable knit, thick and white matching his unruly tresses and light wash baggy jeans, with white sneakers to match. You catch the braid. “No way you kept that! ‘S a little messed up now though, you been redoing it or what?” Gojo goes red at that, trying to look away, trying to drive carefully, trying to be good. He clears his throat. “Oh, uh that? Heh, guess it didn’t undo in the shower huh?” he says, like he hasn’t carefully been washing around it, and asked Suguru how to braid for totally unrelated reasons, watching him demonstrate the action on facetime before redoing the braid of his own.
“Right, didn’t undo in the shower you say…” You’re obviously skeptical, but you drop it, you’re having fun. Gojo cuts in, “So uh, how’d you find out you liked all this vintage shit. ‘S never really occurred to me why someone would wanna wear shit that’s already been worn.”
You raise your eyebrows at his last sentence, but you realize it’s just the rich kid talking, and he’s been taught to see value only in the brand new. “Uh, my mom was kinda big on it, and I wore her old clothes a lot in middle school. I think I like the idea of feeling close to someone by wearing what they’ve worn y’know. If I wear my Dad’s raincoat it makes me think, ‘Man, he’s worn this raincoat a thousand times for the exact same reason I am right now. Is anyone really singular?’ But, past that, I like the way older stuff looks more, I’m a bit skeptical about the craftsmanship of newer brands, and brands with a longer history’s new collections.”
You look over to Gojo, slightly perturbed by his silence. but you just notice he’s doing something weird with his face. Like he’s processing what you said, holding your words in his brain, fingers tapping on the steering wheel seemingly in deep thought. Yet again, he clears his throat, “Yeah, that,” he pauses, “makes sense.” “You’re being kinda weird, you nervous or something? It’s just me y’know.” you say, smiling. Cute, you think.
He replies– a little too quickly, a little too tightly “Me? Nervous?” he adds a dismissive swat with his free hand for good measure. “Hell no. Cool as a cucumber. Completely serene.” You’re laughing now. “If you say so big guy.” you can’t stop giggling now, he’s so not cool it's hilarious. “We’re here,” he says, silently glad the drive has come to an end. He leaves the door first, and opens the door for you, leading you out carefully. “Let’s go in shall we?” You say, strangely dapper, he thinks. He feels like he’s the one being taken out and not the other way around. He gulps at the thought. He holds the door open for you, and you skirt by him, your shoulder touches his chest. He realizes he loves the way you smell, and the way you walk with your head held high. Shit, he thinks. He darts in behind you, already seeing you make a bee-line for the jacket section. He follows suit with a cart, because he already knows you’re gonna go all out. By the time he’s there you’re already trying stuff on, an all black trench coat that’s obviously too big on you, with a huge hat to match.
“You look like some cartoon gangster,” Gojo says, utterly amused. You turn around quickly, a pipe you somehow found in hand. You put it by your lips, frowning, in character. “You come to me.. On the day of my daughter's wedding..” You say, with your best Vito Corleone impression. That rips a real laugh out of him. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners with a dimple showing itself. You’ve seen him laugh so many times, mostly at inappropriate beats, but this is different. He looks really happy now, his head is thrown back and he’s gripping on a rack for support. For a moment he watches you watch him, as his laughter dies down, he sees you: curious, a little shocked, cute, all that is being directed at him. By the time he’s processed it you’re already back in your regular clothes zipping through the racks for something.
He looked towards the cart and noticed the all black trenchcoat already in there, because of course it is. You find yourself in the jeans aisle, specifically mens jeans. You’ve been trying out boxier silhouettes lately. You show him some jeans that are clearly way too big for you and will require tailoring at the hip, but you claim that the wash and the low-mid rise fit is pretty worth it for the extra $40 you’ll have to spend on tailoring. He nods like he knows what you’ve just said to him. All he’s picked out so far is a really thick scarf with faint watercolour-y spots on it that sits somewhere at the bottom of your endless choices. So this is you on a mission, he thinks, I like that.
Now, you’re at the women’s tops section. He almost thought you’d skip it entirely, he didn’t realize he said that out loud though, because you mutter back, “I’m still a girl, y’know,” all petulantly, he can see the pout you’re making even as you’re facing away from him. He finds a nice wrapped top that somewhat matches what he’s seen you wear on other occasions. “How ‘bout this?” he says, a little shyly. “Ou! Cute! Thanks.” you snatch it from him. Now he feels a bit more comfortable, arm lingering on your shoulder as he excuses himself so he can find more things, possibly for himself. He finds boots, a jacket, a dress shirt, pants with a bit too many zippers and some gloves. He finds you and he taps you on the shoulder.
“Hey what do you,” you both say at once. “Uh you go first,” Gojo says, bashfully. “Okay!” you reply, chipper. “Alright so, is this top nice? ‘M kinda sneaking out of the try-on room to show you this right now so don’t think too hard ‘kay?” He looks, really looks, he tries not to pay attention to the way the shirt accentuates your chest, or the way your collarbones look under his brand new eyes. He gulps once more. “It’s great,” he pauses, then he says, quieter, more to himself, “Perfect.” he says, almost awestruck. You stop dead. Perfect? Directed at anyone other than himself? From Gojo?
“Perfect, huh? Should I just walk out with it on then?” You joke, “First compliment in 4 years? Should I mark today on my calendar or what?” You say that last part more softly than intended, with a smile you didn’t even know was there, and you see Gojo before you, a storm of emotion, so close you feel like you’re in the eye of it.
Gojo leans in. He comes to you, which doesn’t strike you in the moment, but you realize he always waits and bothers you to come to him. Before you know it, you’re leaning in, too. And now you’re kissing, it’s quick, awkward, a little dry on his part, his lips are a bit chapped. “Oh,” you say, genuinely shocked. “That’s all you’re gonna say? ‘Oh?’” He tried to sound annoyed, but his voice ended up cracking a little instead. You pull him towards you by the face, squeezing his cheeks a little. “Just kiss me, Satoru.” and kiss you he did. Immediately, he melts. His hands find your waist like they belong there, grip a little too tight at your side, not like you mind though. Pulling you closer, carefully but desperate, like you might disappear if he's too rough. His lips are warm now, the initial awkwardness melting into something softer, something deeper. He kisses you like he's been saving it up for weeks. Your fingers curl into his sweater, and you feel him smile against your mouth, just a little, just enough. Satoru is smiling while he kisses you. Of course he is.
You pull back first. “Uh, okay, I’ll be back, just need to take this shirt off now—“ You turn to leave and you realize his hands are still holding you in place. “Not yet,” he whispered rather hoarsely, blue eyes boring into where he’s touching you, flitting to your face, the curve of your lips that were just on his. Soft, idiot lips, he thinks. Amused, you tease, “ ‘M not gonna disappear..” He looks startled, still not ready to let go. “Right,” he said, “sorry.” He’s looking away as he lets you go. You change out of the shirt, and come back (as promised), with it in hand. You chuck it in the cart. He’s staring at you. A beat passes. He’s still staring at you. Something clicks in your head. “Gojo.” “Huh?” “Do you.. like me? Like, like me?” You say, hesitantly. He’s silent. He looks away again, like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. You’re smiling now, close lipped, sardonic. “God, you’re an idiot.” You say, hand covering your forehead like it should’ve been clear all along. You punch his arm. “Well, I’ll bet my bottom dollar I’m the best idiot you’ve ever kissed.” He says, cocky as ever, needing to regain ground somehow. He touches you again, reaches for your arm to pull you closer. “Kiss me again? Here this time,” pointing to his forehead. You snicker, “You’re weird. Okay.” You kiss his forehead, then put your hand on the side of his face, rubbing your thumb on the apple of his cheek. His face is warm, his skin unexpectedly soft. His eyes flutter shut at the contact. “There.” You say, “Is that good enough?” You cock a playful eyebrow. All he can do is nod.
Your hands are suspiciously close to touching on the short walk to the checkout. He pays, for everything, you realize now you went a little overboard. “Satoru?” You say, softly. A pause. He realizes, this is the second time you’ve called him by his first name. Like you’re talking to him and him only. “Hm?” He hums, looking at you. “Uh, sorry for going all out. Kinda got caught up in the moment there.” You blurt, sheepish. “Huh? Oh this?” He gestures to the shopping cart, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. I said I’d pay.” You nod in response. He really means it, you think. “Okay.”
You both head to the car, now hand in hand, swinging his arm a little as you approach. The car ride to your house is charged, but silent, the good kind. He pulls into your driveway, opening the door for you again. You take his hand as you let him help you up. “Oh shit, I forgot I have to carry all the stuff I got plus my backpack. Jeez, man, can we never go shopping after school again?” He’s already opening the car door and carrying all the bags of stuff you got. “I got it, just get your backpack okay?” He says, gruffly, Man this shit is heavy.. he thinks. You raise your eyebrows, pleased. “Gojo the gentleman huh? Alright.” You nod, impressed, he looks away, again. You get your keys and open up the door and he carries your stuff all the way to your room. You’re silently thankful your parents aren’t home. “Alright, now you can just drag ‘em in easy.” “Thanks.” You say, he walks out, down the stairs and out the door. “Bye Gojo!” You yell. “Bye!” He yells back, halfway out the door.
He practically runs out to his car, red and vibrating all over. He could scream, out of joy? Utter shock maybe? He’s so telling Suguru about this. He practically jumps into the car, pulling out of your driveway speeding home out of sheer adrenaline. I kissed my best friend? He thinks. He’s already decided where you both are off to next. He’ll do it right, meet your parents, the whole thing. You’re gonna go out to eat somewhere nice. But maybe that’s too much pressure? Maybe a diner instead? He’ll see you get pretty for him soon enough, maybe buy you a new dress or a whole new outfit for it.
He pulls into his too-big garage. He rushes through the door connecting to the house. The silence that usually envelops the space charged with his hyperactivity. He’s already calling Suguru before he even enters his room. As soon as he hears the phone pick up he blurts: “She kissed me,” a pause. “Well, I kissed her but she kissed me back.. so really who cares who kissed who?” He laughs at the last part. “‘N like, after she grabbed my face and looked into my eyes all soft and shit.” He sighs, “and then she uh, cradled my face and like massaged my cheek? Kinda like this,” he acted it out briefly for Geto. He hadn’t noticed Geto's silence in his excited rambling. “She wore this sexy ass top and her boobs practically jumped out at me. I was genuinely weighing the consequences of just motorboating her right then.”
“Kidding. I’m not a pervert, not that kind anyway.” Another beat, he finishes, quietly, “Who knew our best friend was pretty?” Geto, was in deep thought. He contemplated hanging up, yelling at him, How could he not know? But, all he can do is congratulate his best friend.
“See? Being nice works. Who knew all it took was being good.” He said, a little weakly. Gojo laughs at that. “Yeah man, thanks, for once I’m glad I took your advice.” “For once? That’s harsh.” “Is it?” Gojo muttered, playful. “I kinda wanna plan our next date but I dunno if she’ll think it's too soon.” “Uh, if your last date went well I’ll bet she’ll want you to want to see her again as soon as possible.” “Right, thanks.” He said, already texting her his ideas, leaving a beat in the conversation. “Uh, you wanna get dinner tomorrow? All three of us? Some casual shit, like somewhere that sells decent burgers.” Geto replies before he can think about what exactly he’s agreeing to. “Sure. I’m down.” He’ll see you at least. “Alright,” Gojo says absentmindedly before abruptly hanging up.
You get a text from Gojo: hey, wanna go out to eat at this new diner that opened up on sunday? you me n sugu are going out to eat tmrw, but i don’t wanna share you for too long
What a dumbass, you think, he didn’t even ask, it’s just “You, me and Sugu are hanging out.” You roll your eyes to yourself. A beat, he doesn’t wanna share me, huh? It’s like that? You reply back: sure, and we’re sharing me now?
He responds instantly: that came out wrong, another text, mb
You respond: your bad fr. see you tmrw dickhead
Suguru. Right. You need to call him. Not before you finish your homework though, it’s like your teachers don’t want you to survive til graduation.
You barely scrape through your physics homework, hardly understanding anything. You’re just about ready to give up, when you realize you can just get Gojo to explain it for you. Bless! You quickly clear your desk of your work and spend about an hour doing the reading for English, getting yourself just a bit ahead of the rest of the class. If you keep this up you can skip next Saturday's reading entirely, so you have time for—other things. Then, satisfied with the amount of work you’ve completed, you start your nightly routine. Meticulous skincare routine you’ve perfected over the years that’s also perfectly travel friendly, (you like to add that part in to self-congratulate.) You wrap a silk scarf around your head to protect your hair, and sleep soundly without the fear of it going everywhere in the morning. You wear your nice silk pyjama set Gojo got you for Christmas last year. You’re excited for tomorrow, excited to see your best friends, excited to see Gojo, but in a new way. You wonder if he’ll reach for your hand, or whisper something stupid in your ear, or let you play with his hair. You’re hot all over now.
Now, you call Geto. You press the call button by his contact laying on your side, knees to your chest, voice low and sleepy and secret. He picks up the phone before the second ring can go off. “Sugu?” You say, low, almost unsure. “Hm?” He hums, “What’s up?” He finishes. “Uh, me and Gojo, when we hung out— we kissed? And he held me after— like he didn’t wanna let go. I’m kind of scared,” you pause. “It was so soft, y'know? What if he didn’t mean it?” It’s his turn to pause. “Don’t say that, I swear if you start with that ‘no one can really want me shit’ I’ll kill you. Not kidding.” He was dead serious. You blurt out a laugh, “Well, can we maybe— not do that?” You say, trying not to burst into laughter. “No need to be so intense, Suguru. I mean, it’s Gojo we’re talking about here. He’ll do anything to get his dopamine up— I dunno— I think I’m just nervous, because now I’ll expect things, and what if he’s not ready to give in the way I want him to?” You mutter, Geto sat with what you said. Expecting things? He thinks, shit, Gojo you better not fuck this up.
“Hey,” he starts, softly, “if anyone were to take you for granted, even our idiot best friend, they don’t know what they’re missing. Okay?” His voice cracked on the last sentence. Tears pushing up threatening to fall out of his eyesockets. “Just remember that. I love you, bye.” He says, too quietly before abruptly hanging up.
What was that? There it is again, he’s running away. But from what?
Geto dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Shit. How the fuck do I explain that? A tear falls down his face, hair obscuring his eyes as he sits up on his bed, legs splayed out. He thinks of distractions, happy memories, vacations, outings, but all that comes back is secret moments you and him have shared, Gojo looking at you with that glint of admiration, the way his arm might’ve held you too tightly in a group photo you’ve taken. He thinks of the almost moment he had with you, and wonders if he reached out that moment he looked at your lips, would you still think about Gojo? Shit. He barely sleeps that night.
sorry suguboo 😞 your time is coming i promise.
