okay but bee, what if I want to see them fuck
and what if they are just a little too focused on each other
what if they regularly do this as an excuse to land back in bed together, having to choose an intermediary
and what if they have done this so many times, they barely feel bad about it anymore
but what if, just this time, you stick around in their minds
and what if they invite you back, promising to make it a proper apology
anon...what's it like to have such a big and wrinkly brain. this is delicious oh my god. the idea that they do this regularly, that they can't quite admit that they want each other still and need someone as a buffer, but that buffer almost disappears once they're together again...
and they WOULDN'T feel bad about it (because they're awful) but maybe you call them out on it a little bit. and they've never had anyone do it before. you don't seem mad about it—it's more like you're saying it's sunny outside. just like you're stating a fact.
"This has been fun," you say, in the middle of slipping your underwear up your still-shaky legs. "Let's never do it again."
Gojo's jaw drops, a pout already forming on his pretty pink lips; Getou snorts, the sound still somehow elegant.
"Hold on a second," Gojo says, his voice almost a whine. "Why not?"
You shrug on your jacket. "You two are a mess."
"You're divorced and picking up a third as an excuse to fuck each other again without admitting it," you say, brutal in your nonchalance. "Like i said: a mess."
"You didn't seem to mind when you were cumming on our cocks," Getou says, raising a perfect brow.
"I said it was fun," you point out, slipping on your shoes.
Gojo pouts. "It was more than fun."
You ignore him. "I'm just saying you should probably tell people what they're walking into," you say. "That's all. bye."
You're out the hotel room's door before either of them can respond.
The two of them stare at each other, comet-tail blue meeting the night sky. Gojo opens his mouth and Getou narrows his eyes.
Gojo bristles. "You don't even know what i was going to say!"
Gojo groans, flopping back on the bed. "You're insufferable."
"Coming from you, that's almost a compliment," Getou says, batting away the pillow that's launched in his direction with ease.
They devolve into bickering, your words already forgotten.
Until the next time they talk about going out for a third. Gojo's oddly quiet on the phone. Getou sighs.
"You're thinking about them," he says.
"So? I know you have been too."
"It's settled, then," Gojo says.
"What, exactly, is settled?"
"We're going to go find them."
"No, Satoru," Getou says.
A half hour later, he's stepping into the high-end bar they met you at, Gojo warm at his side. You're draped over a barstool, lazily chatting with the bartender. You look up as they enter and choke on your drink as you meet Getou's intense gaze.
This might be easier than he thought.
