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Nanami ripped open another drawer on the dresser. He pushed aside some of Gojo’s ties that never saw any use, all that they revealed was the wooden bottom of the compartment. He checked the next drawer and still no success.
He opened his mouth with every intent to swear before remembering he wasn’t alone in the bedroom. The soft sound of shuffling and the clack of plastic over Nanami’s shoulder denoted the presence of Megumi who had been watching Nanami get ready for a while now.
“Lost something?” Megumi asked with very little care. Nanami looked back at the boy. He was laying on his stomach facing the end of the bed. He was propped up on his elbows with an eclectic trio of action figures spread out in front of him.
It was a bit unusual to have Megumi keep Nanami company while he got ready. It was no nuisance. In fact, Nanami had become very accustomed to Tsumiki and Gojo hovering, it was only a little odd to have the resident be Megumi.
“My cufflinks,” Nanami answered, returning to his search within the dresser he and Gojo shared. He had moved into the bungalow less than a year and already all his belongings were mixed up and intertwined with Gojo’s.
After a thorough shuffling of all the predictable locations, Nanami rubbed his face in defeat. He couldn’t find them. Not on his own, anyway. He checked his watch.
“You shouldn’t be late,” Megumi said, still playing. If Nanami’s watch is accurate, as it always was, then they likely would be at this rate. “She doesn’t like tardiness. Satoru is late a lot.”
There was something different about Megumi’s tone. Something uncomfortable that only added to Nanami’s anxiety. He turned to look at the youngest Fushiguro. Megumi was staring through his toys now. Still moving his hands but not really focused on whatever train of imagination he had previously been following.
“I’m not particularly fond of it either,” Nanami agreed. Hoping to soothe the new tone in the bedroom, Nanami marched over to the open doorway and cupped a hand to his mouth.
“Satoru! Where are my cufflinks?” Nanami shouted down the hall. His voice echoed over the usual hum of the home. There was a silence that only made Nanami’s impatience worsen. He almost shouted again but a reply came.
“In the dresser!” Gojo shouted back. Probably from the living room. Nanami’s left under-eye gave the slightest of twitches.
Megumi rolled his eyes and picked up the third action figure who had thus far been neglected.
“Satoru!” Nanami shouted again.
“Coming!”
Nanami pushed off the doorway, arms instantly folding across his chest. He waited while staring at the doorway. When Gojo came through Nanami thought he might actually kill his partner.
“Wow, who are you all dressed up for? Should I be jealous?” Gojo said cheekily and leaned against the doorframe.
Gojo wasn’t dressed at all.
His dress pants were undone, barely hanging off his narrow hips and his undershirt was the only thing keeping him from being topless.
“The same person you’re supposed to be dressed for too. Where is your shirt?” Nanami said with a rough gesture at Gojo’s disheveled state.
“The dryer. It was a lil wrinkly.”
Nanami couldn’t help but let out an exasperated sigh.
“Hey, at least I know where my shit is,” Gojo said finally registering Nanami’s irritated aura. “Your cufflinks are in the top right drawer.”
Nanami’s eye twitched again.
“I looked there. I looked twice. I know I put them in there so are you sure you didn’t move them?”
Gojo looked at Nanami over the tops of his dark lenses. He gave Megumi a little smirk before waltzing up to the dresser. He put one hand on Nanami’s tense chest and used the other to pull open the top right drawer.
He stared in the compartment for approximately four seconds. He reached in and pulled out the small black box housing Nanami’s square cufflinks. The exact set Nanami had been looking for. Gojo offered them to Nanami never taking his left hand off Nanami’s chest.
“Thank you,” Nanami whispered as he took the box into his own grip. His shoulders visibly dropped. “I’m sorry.”
Gojo hummed a ‘you’re welcome’ and leaned in. They exchanged gratitude and forgiveness with a light kiss.
“Better?” Gojo asked.
“No. Decidedly not. You’re still half-naked and we need to leave soon. I don’t want to be late,” Nanami said but put a hand on Gojo’s hip, holding him still and close.
“I’m always late. She’s used to it,” Gojo said trying to convince them both. Nanami got sent a look from Megumi that completely derailed Gojo’s comment.
“Why must you be so antagonistic? It makes everything so much more difficult,” Nanami said, his exhaustion coming through.
“When it comes to my mother or generally?”
“Satoru-”
“Maybe I’m just in denial we have to go at all,” Gojo said like it was a joke but Nanami felt there was more truth than jest to that. Megumi’s expression confirmed such suspicions. “Fine, fine. I’ll get dressed, but I’m not wearing a tie.”
Gojo turned and left the bedroom before Nanami could begin his protest. Nanami turned and looked at his reflection in the mirror on top of the dresser. His hair was combed back and he was wearing one of his favorite suits minus the jacket. He adjusted his collar and sighed.
He was wearing a suit and tie on a Sunday night. Nanami hadn’t done that since he was a salary man working criminally late overtime. The very top of Megumi’s head was apparent in the mirror, his coarse hair poked up in every direction.
Nanami put on his cufflinks and thought about how much more he’d rather trade this dress shirt and pants for a pair of sweats and one of Gojo’s shirts. He’d rather be tucking into the bungalow with their kids than driving half an hour out of Tokyo for dinner with Gojo’s mother.
Gojo’s mother. Just thinking about their upcoming meeting was making Nanami’s skin hot. Perhaps he should have picked a different shirt, this one was suddenly all too itchy.
“She’s gonna like that you’re dressing up,” Megumi said. If it wasn’t spoken in such an innocent tone Nanami would have long suspected that the Fushiguro children were indeed capable of reading his thoughts. “She always wants Tsumiki and I to dress up too.”
Nanami turned to find dark blue eyes staring up at him from the bed. His toys lay lifeless next to small idle hands. His priorities and clever gaze had shifted priority fully to Nanami.
It was expressions like this one that, if he did not know the reality, would make him believe Megumi and Gojo were related. The odd combination of knowing but not fully saying seemed to come naturally to both and it was always written in their eyes.
“Is that why you didn’t want to come with us?” Nanami said after a moment. Megumi’s face pulled down slightly, and a displeased scowl formed across his little features.
“I don’t like her,” Megumi said bluntly.
That seemed to be a common sentiment amongst those in the bungalow and from what Nanami knew he was inclined to share it. When Nanami had been invited to dinner to meet Gojo-sama, she had included the Fushiguros but Gojo had been hesitant about the entire thing, especially regarding the kids.
Ultimately, they had decided to ask the siblings what they wanted and both had little interest in their adoptive grandmother. Tsumiki had tried to be gracious about turning down the invite but Megumi’s rejection had been instant.
Nanami wondered about the time, how late they may be and if Gojo was truly even trying to get ready, but these were anxious chatters in the back of his mind. He didn’t even check his watch, there was something more important happening in front of him.
Nanami sat on the edge of the bed next to Megumi, moving one of the abandoned toys further aside. Megumi played with his own fingers for a moment until Nanami put a hand on the small of his back.
“What don’t you like about her?” Nanami asked when Megumi finally looked up. Megumi rolled over and sat up, facing Nanami.
“She makes everything… wrong,” Megumi said and Nanami just raised an eyebrow. That seemed to be all the prodding required to get the boy to continue.
“She wants us to be a certain way but not the way we are. Satoru doesn’t act like Satoru and Tsumiki…”
Nanami wasn’t very shocked about Gojo’s odd behavior, in fact, he was in a way bracing himself for that evening. Gojo talked about his family rarely, and his mother even less so. What he did share was often after long, hard conversations in the dark in their bed. A safe, private place within the safe bungalow.
“What about Tsumiki-chan?” Nanami asked, that was who he was shocked about. He didn’t think anything could nudge her away from being her entire self. What’s more, Nanami could not imagine anyone wanting anything other than who Tsumiki already was.
“It makes me angry,” Megumi said with heavy eyebrows.
“What does?” Nanami pushed a little harder, keeping his voice level even as the confusion rose inside his head.
Megumi picked at some fuzz-balls stuck to the hem of his shirt. When he decided to speak, his eyes lifted to look straight at Nanami. It was almost as if he needed to ensure Nanami was listening very closely.
“Gojo-sama doesn’t like Tsumiki. She talks to me but not her. She tries to hug me after Satoru but not Tsumiki. I think… I think it makes Tsumiki feel bad.”
Nanami stared at Megumi. He had a hundred questions and yet none at all. It was horrifically confusing but also made a terrible amount of sense.
He knew exactly what Megumi was talking about. Clan families had their own politics, their own elitism that Nanami had despised since high school. The mere idea of Tsumiki and Megumi feeling the effects of Gojo’s position at so young, with someone meant to be family-
“That makes me angry, as well,” Nanami admitted to Megumi. “I’m sorry, for all of you.”
Megumi blinked and it broke the strange trance between them. He pulled one of the toys into his lap and shrugged.
“I’m fine. I don’t like Gojo-sama anyway, she’s not a good person,” Megumi decided. Nanami couldn’t argue with that, nor did he want to.
“Megumi, you and Tsumiki won’t have to see her again. I’m sorry, but I have to go tonight, for Satoru,” Nanami promised. Megumi nodded.
“I know, but you’ll come back and Satoru will be fine,” was all Megumi said and Nanami’s ribs clenched and warmed.
Nanami put a hand into Megumi’s hair. The stiff bristles folded under the weight and as soon as Nanami felt the heat from the boy's head he pulled his hand away gently stroking once through the dark hair.
They shared a calm moment. While Megumi had found the conversation cathartic Nanami’s concern had doubled. He fiddled with his cufflinks as he thought.
Gojo’s sudden entrance into the room broke through the quiet. He was dressed, mostly. Now his shirt was on and tucked into fastened pants but the top three buttons were undone and he still had no socks on.
“What are you sitting down for? Weren’t you the one rushing me?” Gojo asked and he reached for the top left dresser drawer.
“I thought it was impossible to rush you,” Nanami said dryly. Gojo scoffed lightly but Nanami could see the new tension in Gojo’s back. He truly had been in denial earlier. “Megumi, go and check on the oven, please. Have Shoko help you.”
Megumi looked from Nanami to Gojo before nodding his head. After shuffling off the bed, he collected all his toys, carrying them in a makeshift pouch formed from the bottom of his shirt.
Gojo was pushing his belt around his waist when Nanami stood up in front of him. Nanami reached out and gingerly closed up one of the remaining buttonholes on Gojo’s shirt. He moved to the next one.
“Why doesn’t your mother like Tsumiki,” Nanami said with no warning, not even looking up from his hands. Gojo went a little stiffer but kept working on his belt.
“Tsumiki is human. It’s that simple,” Gojo said. It sounded more melancholic than harsh as if Gojo was as dissatisfied with it as Nanami.
“So because she isn’t a sorcerer, she isn’t worth anything?” Nanami couldn’t keep the frustration out of his voice. Gojo’s mouth went into that hard-line Nanami recognized.
Gojo finished adjusting his belt and Nanami did the last button, stopping before the top one.
“That’s what my mother thinks. As a kid I learned the same thing,” Gojo admitted. The way he said it seemed to mean that it was inevitable, that it had been ingrained in both him and his mother.
“But you don’t think that way anymore,” Nanami said as a counter.
“Yeah. Tsumiki has been a big part of that,” Gojo said. The sad affection with which Gojo said their little girl's name sprouted new hurt in Nanami. He hurt for Tsumiki and Gojo. “I thought Mother might see it that way too, but it’s not worth it anymore.”
Gojo stepped away from Nanami and into their bathroom. He watched as Gojo pinched and pushed at his hair in the mirror.
It wasn’t worth it?
Nanami pondered that idea. He tried to match that statement to the man standing barefoot in their bedroom.
It wasn’t worth it to Gojo to force Tsumiki to experience that sort of bias on the chance it could change his mother.
That ache in Nanami’s chest flared and burned. It ached as badly as it had the first morning he had ever woken up in the bungalow and when he had agreed to move into that same space. Their space, their home, their family.
Gojo had made the same easy choice Nanami had that what was here was more important. And nothing was worth more.
It only took three full steps for Nanami to be beside Gojo. He turned to look at Nanami with a raised eyebrow and his hands still poised near his hair.
Nanami took a deep breath which only seemed to perplex Gojo further. Nanami held that breath, held it in his lungs to brace against his ribs so they wouldn’t collapse from that feeling of affection.
He put a hand to Gojo’s face and pulled them together. There had been a million kisses between their first and this one. Some were sweet and others were passionate or comforting. This one was completely, and entirely loving. It was an adoring kiss that Gojo accepted and reciprocated easily.
They parted and Nanami finally exhaled. The ache ebbed with the air.
Gojo smirked and put his hand over Nanami’s.
“You know I love you too, right?” Gojo said.
Nanami only hummed. He reached up and raked his fingers through Gojo’s hair, ruining all that Gojo had done before.
“Let your hair be. It looks good as it is,” Nanami said. He meant it. Gojo looked good as he was. He had no reason to be anything but himself here. They could save the arbitrary requirements of the sorcery world for when they stepped out of the bungalow. “Go get your socks.”
Nanami left the bedroom without Gojo, taking his suit jacket with him over one arm. He walked down the short hallway toward the main room, using every step to soak in the feeling of the bungalow. He followed the light voices coming from around the corner.
“You’re not old enough for a glass of wine,” Megumi griped at Tsumiki who was sitting on the couch next to Shoko.
“Yeah, but I’m old enough for a wine glass,” Tsumiki said. She lifted a wine glass up to her lips and Megumi scowled.
“Hold on, dear,” Shoko said putting a hand on Tsumiki’s wrist. “Don’t hold it by the bowl. You gotta hold it by the stem. Like this.”
Shoko demonstrated with her own wine glass, pinching the stem daintily between her slender fingers. She took a long sip and Tsumiki followed suit.
“What are you teaching her?” Nanami asked, a small amused smile already on his lips.
“Life lessons, of course,” Shoko said easily. Tsumiki smiled and raised her glass in Nanami’s direction.
“Don’t worry! It’s only grape juice,” Tsumiki assured a very not worried Nanami.
“You lied before. It’s not wine,” Megumi said and crossed his arms across his small chest. Tsumiki started to open her mouth, determined to fight her case with Megumi but Shoko interceded.
“Technically speaking, Tsumiki is correct. Wine is grape juice,” Shoko started. Tsumiki smiled triumphantly, but her victory was short-lived. “But chemically speaking? Wine is grape juice that is aged and fermented, permanently altering it into something different.”
Megumi raised his small chin slightly higher.
“Yeah, Tsumiki. It’s fermented,” he said as if he had any clue what the word ‘fermented’ meant. Tsumiki stuck her tongue out at her brother.
Nanami watched the Fushiguros for a few moments more. He listened to the back and forth that seemed to harmonize with the regular buzz that filled the house. He was only pulled from the scene when the doorbell rang.
Shoko’s head instantly turned toward the door and Nanami repressed a teasing glance. She would only bully him later about Gojo.
When Nanami opened the door he found a fidgety Ijichi on the doorstep.
“I, I brought the keys. And I gassed up the car. Am I late?” Ijichi said, extending out car keys to Nanami.
“Thank you. Don’t be too concerned. Gojo and I are the ones running a little late,” Nanami said and moved to allow Ijichi entrance.
“Oh, that’s good. I was afraid-”
“Ijichi, why are you late?” Gojo said, cutting off the other man as he marched into the living room. He was finally, fully dressed. Though he had been true to his word: no tie.
Ijichi tried to mutter out a reply but Gojo wasn’t paying attention. He was making a quick round around the room saying good night to the Fushiguros.
He patted Megumi on the head who swatted at Gojo’s hand. Nanami knew it was likely only because Shoko and Ijichi were there to witness it.
He leaned over the couch and stole a sip from Tsumiki’s wine glass.
“Damn good year. Excellent vintage,” Gojo said of the horrifically sweet juice before giving Tsumiki a similar head rub.
“Satoru, let’s go,” Nanami urged gently. Gojo headed for the front door that Nanami had left open.
“Ijichi, you are… not in charge. Do everything Shoko and Tsumiki tell you and don’t touch my stuff. Good night,” Gojo said and smacked Ijichi encouragingly on the arm, even if it was a little too hard.
With a sigh, Nanami held the door open for Gojo. He trodded down the path toward the parking lot on the edge of campus. Nanami turned back to look into the bungalow one more time.
The yellow light spilled out onto the doorstep still coating Nanami in its’ warmth. Tsumiki waved goodbye and Nanami raised a hand back to her. He gave a final glance to Megumi. He stared back for a moment before lifting his own small hand.
It never failed to feel strange, almost wrong somehow, to walk away from the bungalow with the Fushiguros inside.
But now that strangeness was something else. It was only a temporary feeling, one that he knew would be cured in a few hours when he and Gojo returned.
“C’mon, Kento! You’ve got the keys,” Gojo called from down the path a few meters. Nanami finally closed the door to the bungalow sealing all the goodness inside, preserved from the outside world.
When Nanami approached, Gojo offered a hand that Nanami mindlessly took. He glanced back once more to the little bungalow on the path.
“You’re not nervous to meet the family are you?” Gojo asked.
Nanami looked to Gojo and the hard line of his mouth.
“No,” Nanami said truthfully. He squeezed Gojo’s hand.
“Good, because I’m nervous as hell,” Gojo said and they both chuckled.
Nanami wasn’t nervous to meet the family. He already knew the family and he loved them with all his heart. He loved Gojo’s true family. Nanami’s family now, too.