megumi’s demon dogs have always loved you, even when they're tired after missions. oftentimes, they’ll run up to you with wagging tails, whining, and panting happily.
one night, you’re in the common room, sitting on the couch as you watch television, hair and skin still damp from the shower you took after a long mission. you begin to hear soft footsteps, though it sounds more like the demon dogs than people.
the dogs walk up and sit in front of you, tails thumping loudly against the ground.
“oh, hi!” you exclaim, scratching under their chins. the black dog leans into your palm, and the white one’s tail thumps faster against the ground. the white one almost becomes restless, paws tapping against the wood.
the white demon dog begins licking your hand, pausing in between to spin around excitedly. the black dog continues to receive chin scratches from you, pleased at your touch.
a voice speaks out, “hey, you two,” the dogs turn to look at megumi, “stop slobbering all over her,” he’s mostly referring to the white demon dog.
the white demon dog whines and lies its head on the couch, flushed against your thigh. its ears go down, though its tail doesn’t stop wagging. you pet the dog more, and it gently paws at your leg, wanting more pets.
the black demon dog woofs in complaint, softly growling at megumi, though with no aggression.
“it’s okay, megs,” you smile up at him.
he huffs, cheeks turning pinker. he finds it embarrassing how much his demon dogs love you, mirroring how he feels about you. unlike him, his demon dogs have no shame in showing their love and affection towards you.
“megumi, are you sure that keeping them out for this long isn’t making you tired?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed together.
he shakes his head no and sits next to you, pretending to watch whatever movie you were previously watching before the demon dogs came up to you.
“yeah, you’re good pups, aren’t you?” you mumble, and the demon dogs whine happily, you continue, “very well trained.”
you know well that they’re certainly not puppies, instead far from it. megumi’s warm next to you, leg bouncing anxiously as he hides his face, a bit afraid that you’ll see his flushed face.
footsteps walk into the common room, and someone stands behind the couch, hands resting on the back of it. gojo smirks knowingly, staring at how megumi’s demon dogs behave with you. megumi glares up at him, silently daring him to say something.
gojo speaks up, “hmm, that’s weird..”
you curiously look up at him, “huh?”
“megumi’s demon dogs normally don’t act this way around people. it’s a bit weird how they’re cuddling up to you and whining for your attention, don’t you think?”
you think for a minute, taking in his words, “yeah, it’s a bit odd, but i’m totally fine with it. they’re such sweethearts!”
when your attention’s back on the demon dogs, gojo runs a hand down his face with a frown, looking at megumi with a look of disbelief on his face. he seriously can’t believe that you didn’t pick up on a word he said.
gojo knows well that megumi’s shikigami mirrors his emotions and feelings towards people, and the older man immediately knew about megumi’s liking towards you when he saw the demon dogs cuddle up to you.
he just wonders when and how megumi’s going to confess to you.
i saw this and immediately got to writing, he’s so cute my shaylaaa <3
megumi doesn’t do it on purpose. that’s the cute part.
you’re sitting on his bed, legs crossed, watching him go through his little nightly routine. it’s quiet in that calm, late night way where everything feels softer. the only sound is the faint hum of the heater and the rustle of fabric as he changes into a plain black shirt.
you’re half on your phone, half watching him, when he opens his dresser and freezes.
“…where’s my sleepy shirt.”
you blink, looking up slowly. “your what?”
megumi doesn’t even look embarrassed. he just keeps staring into the drawer like it personally betrayed him.
“my sleepy shirt,” he repeats, like you’re the one being weird.
you stare at him for a second. then you burst out laughing.
megumi finally looks at you, flat and unimpressed. “what?”
“megumi,” you say, trying not to choke on your own laughter. “your sleepy shirt?”
he frowns. “it’s a shirt. i sleep in it.”
“you mean… your pajama shirt?”
“no.” he says it like you’re wrong. “sleepy shirt.”
you cover your mouth with your hand, shoulders shaking. “who taught you that?”
he stares at you.
you stare back.
he looks away first, “…gojo.”
that makes you laugh harder.
megumi sighs, like this is the price he pays for letting you exist in the same room as him.
“i don’t know where it is,” he mutters, digging through the drawer again.
“is it the gray one?” you ask, wiping your eyes.
he pauses. “yeah.”
“with the little hole near the bottom?”
“…yeah.”
“i wore it yesterday.”
megumi turns his head slowly. you can literally feel the disappointment radiating off him.
“you wore my sleepy shirt.”
“i didn’t know it was your sleepy shirt,” you defend immediately. “i thought it was just a shirt.”
“it’s not just a shirt,” he says.
you stare at him. “megumi. it’s a shirt.”
he looks at you like you just insulted his family.
“it’s the shirt i like.”
you blink and then you soften a little, because he said it so quietly.
like it’s not a big deal, like he didn’t just admit something kind of… sweet.
you smile. “i’m sorry.”
he doesn’t respond. he just goes back to looking.
you watch him for a second.
then you say, “you could just wear another one.”
megumi finally pulls out a different shirt and holds it up, expression dead. “this one is scratchy.”
you stare. “it’s literally the same fabric.”
“it’s not,” he says, with the seriousness of someone arguing about life and death.
you scoot off the bed and walk over to him, standing close.
“okay,” you say gently. “i’ll go get it. it’s in my room.”
megumi’s eyes flick to you before he looks away again.
“fine.”
you grin. “fine.”
you start to walk out.
behind you, he adds, almost too quietly, “and don’t call it a pajama shirt.”
you pause at the doorway, turning back slowly.
“why?”
megumi looks at you with the most tired expression you’ve ever seen. “because it’s not.”
“it’s a sleepy shirt,” you repeat.
he nods once.
you just stare at him, like you’re trying to take a picture of this moment in your brain.
megumi fushiguro, the same guy who could stare down a room full of terrifying people without blinking.
standing in his own dorm room, arguing about a sleepy shirt.
you walk out, still smiling to yourself.
☾ ☾ ☾ ☾
you come back a minute later holding the gray shirt.
megumi’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, elbows on his knees, hair slightly messy. he looks like he’s been waiting for you for three hours, even though it’s been sixty seconds.
you hold the shirt out.
“your sleepy shirt,” you say.
megumi takes it from you immediately. he holds it for a second, before giving you this look.
a look that says, i don’t know why you’re like this.
you smile innocently. “what?”
megumi exhales through his nose and stands up. he pulls it on and, visibly, his shoulders relax a little.
you stare.
“…you really do like it,” you say softly.
megumi pauses then he says, “it’s comfortable.”
you nod. “sure.”
he turns toward the bathroom. halfway there, he mutters, “you can’t just wear my stuff.”
you follow him with your eyes. “why not?”
megumi stops, without turning around, he says, “because you stretch it out.”
you gasp like you’ve been shot. “i do not.”
he finally turns and gives you a look.
you point at yourself. “i am literally smaller than you.”
megumi’s gaze drops for half a second then he looks away like it never happened. “…you still stretch it out.”
you blink before you laugh again, because there’s no way this is real.
you walk toward him, still laughing.
“okay, okay,” you say. “i won’t wear your sleepy shirt anymore.”
megumi narrows his eyes. “good.”
you lean in a little. “but i might wear your hoodie.”
“no.”
“your sweats.”
“no.”
“your—”
megumi grabs your wrist gently before you can finish.
not hard. just enough to stop you.
his hand is warm, his face is neutral but his ears are slightly pink.
“stop,” he says.
you grin, looking up at him. “you’re blushing.”
“i’m not.”
“you are.”
“i’m not.”
you lean closer, and he doesn’t move away, “you’re adorable.”
megumi’s eyes flick to yours, letting go of your wrist and turns away like that didn’t hit him right in the chest.
“i’m going to wash my face,” he says.
“okay,” you say, still smiling. “don’t forget your little face soap.”
megumi freezes. slowly, he turns his head, “…what.”
you blink innocently. “your little face soap.”
megumi stares at you.
then he says, flat, “don’t start.”
you hold your hands up. “i’m not starting. i’m just matching your vibe.”
“it’s not a vibe.”
“it’s absolutely a vibe,” you say.
megumi turns fully toward you now, eyes narrowed. “i don’t talk like that.”
you stare at him then you start counting on your fingers.
“sleepy shirt.”
megumi’s jaw tightens.
“scratchy shirt.”
“stop.”
“little face soap.”
“i never said that.”
“you literally did,” you say.
megumi looks like he’s about to argue but then he stops. and you can see the exact moment he realizes he did say it.
he just didn’t realize it sounded like that.
he looks away again. “…gojo.”
you grin like you just won the lottery, “gojo taught you little face soap?”
megumi exhales. “he didn’t teach me. he just said it.”
“repeatedly?”
megumi doesn’t respond.
you tilt your head. “how many words do you have like that?
megumi’s shoulders tense, “not many.”
you take a step closer. “tell me.”
“no.”
“megumi.”
“no.”
you smile sweetly. “please.”
megumi stares at you for a second then he says, quietly, “don’t laugh.”
your smile softens. “i won’t.”
he hesitates. then, like he’s being forced to confess a crime, he says, “i call the remote the clicker.”
you pause for a second before nodding slowly, “that’s normal.”
megumi looks relieved.
“i call tissues nose paper.”
you blink. your mouth twitches.
megumi’s eyes narrow immediately. “don’t.”
you press your lips together hard. “i’m not laughing.”
he stares at you like he doesn’t believe you.
you try again. “nose paper. okay. sure.”
megumi looks slightly more comfortable now, like he got past the hardest one.
then he says, even quieter, “i call the microwave the warm box.”
you lose it. you cover your face, laughing into your hands.
megumi’s face goes blank again.
he turns around and walks toward the bathroom, “i knew it.”
you follow after him, still laughing. “megumi. warm box?”
he opens the bathroom door.
you lean against the frame, watching him. “that is the cutest thing i’ve ever heard in my life.”
megumi turns the sink on, “it’s not cute.”
“it is,” you insist. “it’s so you.”
megumi looks at his reflection like he’s trying to disappear.
“it’s gojo,” he mutters.
you watch him splash water on his face.
because now you're thinking about little megumi.
tiny megumi, growing up with gojo satoru. you can literally picture it.
gojo accidentally talking in babyish words like he’s trying to get a rise out of him.
and megumi, instead of pushing back, just… absorbing it.
like a sponge.
like it became normal.
like it became part of his brain.
you sit there, imagining it, and you feel your chest get full in a way you don't know what to do with.
you lean a little closer. “did he do it to mess with you?”
megumi wipes his face with a towel. “yes.”
“did it work?”
megumi pauses. then he says, “yes.”
you laugh softly. “did you ever call him out?”
megumi looks at you through the mirror, his expression is calm but there’s something there. something almost fond.
“no,” he says. “it was easier to just… ignore it.”
you hum. “and now you have a warm box.”
megumi sighs. “stop saying it.”
you grin. “i’m sorry. i can’t help it.”
megumi turns off the sink.
he steps past you, walking back into the room.
you follow him, still smiling. he sits on the bed again, back against the headboard, legs stretched out.
you climb onto the bed too, curling up next to him. megumi doesn’t reach for you immediately. he’s not like that.
but after a few seconds, his hand slides over.
his fingers hook around yours, curling around them.
you look at his hand holding yours, then you look at him.
he’s staring straight ahead, expression neutral. like nothing is happening but his thumb rubs your knuckles once and it makes your chest feel warm.
you lean your head against his shoulder.
“i’m not making fun of you,” you say.
megumi doesn’t look at you.
“i know,” he says.
you blink. “you do?”
“yeah.”
you smile, sitting like that for a while.
and then, because you can’t help yourself, you say, “what do you call your toothbrush?”
megumi’s fingers tighten around yours. he turns his head slowly. you can feel the threat in his silence.
you smile. “i’m just curious.”
megumi stares at you for a long moment then he sighs.
“toothbrush.”
you nod. “okay.”
“normal.”
“normal,” you agree.
then you ask, “what do you call your charger?”
megumi’s eyes narrow again.
you grin. “come on.”
he looks away.
“…phone food.”
you freeze, pulling back and stare at him, “megumi.”
he looks at you with the most dead expression possible. “don’t.”
you whisper, “phone food?”
megumi’s jaw clenches.
you can’t even laugh this time, you’re just stunned.
“you call it phone food?” you repeat, like you’re trying to understand.
megumi’s voice is flat. “gojo said it once and it stuck.”
you stare at him.
then you slowly smile, then you slowly laugh.
then you fully collapse into his side, laughing into his shoulder. megumi stays completely still. like a statue, like he’s waiting for the moment to pass.
but his ears turn pink again and that makes you laugh even harder.
“phone food,” you wheeze. “oh my god.”
megumi’s hand moves to your back. he pats you once, then again, like you’re a child who fell over and needs comforting.
“you’re done.” he says.
you lift your head, still smiling. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i can’t. i love you.”
megumi freezes for half a second.
you don’t miss it. you don’t miss the way his shoulders soften, the way his hand stays on your back.
the way he doesn’t pull away
“…yeah,” he says quietly.
you blink, that’s it, that’s all you get but it hits you anyway.
you rest your head against him again, you’re still smiling, still warm.
then you say, gently, "it makes sense, you know."
megumi glances at you. "what does?"
"that you talk like that sometimes."
he doesn't respond, waiting for you to keep going.
"you grew up with gojo. you were around him constantly. he talks like that. he makes everything sound stupid.." megumi's expression shifts like he hates that you're right.
you smile a little. "it's normal you picked some of it up."
megumi sighs. "i hate it."
you say, softer, “i think it’s cute.”
megumi’s voice is almost a whisper. “it’s embarrassing.”
“no,” you say. “it’s just… you.”
megumi doesn’t answer but his hand slides from your back to your waist, pulling you closer, just a little. like he’s making a point.
like he’s saying, stop talking now.
you stop, for a few minutes, you just sit there, quietly.
you smile like that’s a compliment, “you love me.”
megumi starts to blush and look away.
you slide off the bed.
“i’ll go get you ramen,” you say.
megumi immediately sits up a little. “you don’t have to.”
you pause, looking back at him.
“i want to,” you say simply.
megumi holds your gaze for a second then he nods once, “okay.”
you walk to the door and just before you leave, you hear him say, quietly, like he can’t help it— “don’t forget the… soup sprinkles.”
you stop.
you turn around slowly, “soup sprinkles?”
megumi’s eyes widen slightly, he looks like he just realized what he said.
you smile so hard it hurts, “you mean the toppings?”
megumi’s face goes blank again.
“…yeah.”
you walk back over to him, leaning down and kiss his forehead.
megumi freezes, but then relaxes into it.
you whisper, “okay. i’ll get your warm noodles with soup sprinkles.”
megumi closes his eyes and for the first time tonight, you hear him laugh. well, it’s not a laugh, more like a sharp huff of air.
“just go,” he mutters.
you grin. “yes, sir.”
you head out and as you walk down the hallway, you can’t stop smiling.
because megumi fushiguro, the most serious person you know, is sitting in his dorm room wearing his sleepy shirt, waiting for his warm noodles, with his soup sprinkles.
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