Toji jolts awake at the sound of a soft whimper, his instincts kicking in before his conscious mind can catch up. He blinks against the early morning light, his senses sharp and alert, he's reminded that he's no longer in those unforgiving situations. There are no enemies here, no threats lurking in the shadows. Just the soft whimpering from across the hall and the comforting warmth of the bed beneath him, the bed that smells like him

Harry, he thinks reaching over for the familiar warm body he likes to curl against, only he frowns, the space next to him cold and empty.

'Ah' remembering that Harry had to leave early this morning, to talk to a social worker or something to get all the official crap in line for Getou to be theirs legally. Toji grunts as he sits up, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

It still feels strange, this new life of his, waking up in a house he can call home, waking up to Harry beside him, to the boy down the hall. His life has become unrecognizable from the brutal one he once lived.

It's almost laughable.

'The universe's way of paying me back for the bullshit I went through,' he thinks dryly.

Toji pushes himself out of bed, the lingering scent of Harry clinging to the sheets, grounding him.

He snorts to himself, 'Lucky kid.'

The boy had managed to worm his way into Harry's heart so easily. Not that it was a surprise. Harry had a way of doing that, drawing in the broken, the lost.

Toji had been no different.

He liked the kid, sure, but he's got a wariness that comes from too many years of being hardened by the world. He knows how abused kids could be, fickle, skittish, always one step away from running.

Not that he expected Getou to bolt.

The kid wasn't stupid.

Who the hell would, when they had Harry?

His presence was a goddamn balm to the damned and broken.

Toji scoffs, shaking his head at his own mushy thoughts, his steps silent as he makes his way down the hall to the room Harry had decorated for Getou.

He still remembers the way Harry had fretted the first day the kid arrived.

Toji had just mentioned the spare room offhandedly, and that had sent Harry into a whirlwind, using his magic to make sure it was 'just right' for the boy. It had taken hours, but the result was a space that was comforting, welcoming, a stark contrast to the world Getou had come from, Toji knows the boy is still expecting the other shoe to drop.

He pushes the door open slowly, peering inside. The sight of the boy curled up in a fetal position, trembling and whimpering softly, makes something in his chest tighten. It's an uncomfortable feeling, one that Toji isn't used to.

He steps inside, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to scrub away the unfamiliar emotions threatening to bubble up. This was Harry's territory, not his.

He wasn't good at this kind of thing.

He still struggles to be vulnerable with Harry. Still, he moves closer, his instincts kicking in despite himself.

Awkwardly, he reaches out, his hand hovering over Getou's head before he lets it drop, gently patting the boy's hair, and sits on the edge of the bed, threading his fingers through the kid's hair the way Harry does for him.

Soft. Gentle.

It takes a few, but eventually, the brats trembling lessens, and Toji thinks he's in the clear, and is about to stand and leave when a small hand grabs his wrist.

"Stay. Please." His voice is small, timid, a whisper in the dark dim morning. It makes Toji's jaw tighten, and he feels something strange swell up inside him.

He slowly sits back down, his body stiff with unfamiliarity. He has to hold his breath, forcing down the instinct to shove the boy away when Getou presses his face into Toji's ribs, curling up against him like a lifeline.

"Thank you," the brat whispers as if scared for rejection, and that has Toji lower his arm over the boy's small frame, pulling him a little closer.

It's awkward, foreign, but when Getou sighs softly, his body relaxing as if the weight of the world has been lifted, Toji feels something shift inside him.

Just him. The boy feels safe with him…The realization hits him harder than he expected, making him swallow hard.

He curls his body slightly around Getou, feeling his eyes grow heavy, still groggy from sleep, and unwittingly lets the boy's even breathing lull him into sleep.

A thought drifts through his mind, unbidden. 'Is this what being a father is going to be like?' For once, since Harry announced his magical pregnancy, the thought doesn't scare him.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.


Toji shifts wincing as his arm tingles from the awkward position he fell asleep in. He furrows his brow in confusion when he finds himself it the brats room, he looks down and rembers coming in to comfort the kid, he must have fallen asleep. His ear twitches when his favorite sound sings, a soft, steady rhythm of Harry's heartbeat.

His eyes crack open fully, bleary with sleep, and he sees Harry standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the hall. Harry leans casually against the doorframe, one hand resting on his stomach, his lips curved in a soft smile.

That expression, so full of love, of warmth, it makes Toji's heart stumble in his chest. It's too much. It always is.

He quickly turns his gaze away, focusing on the ceiling as if it can ground him. His ears burn with embarrassment, and he knows Harry has noticed.

The minx always notices.

He listens as Harry steps into the room, his movements as fluid and graceful as ever, "Don't be embarrassed," Harry says softly, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room.

Toji can hear the amusement in his tone.

He feels the bed dip slightly as Harry stops at the edge, his presence warm and grounding. Harry's hand moves to gently caress Getou's head, fingers threading through the boy's hair.

After a few moments Harry's gaze shifts, locking onto Toji, and the intensity of his affection hits Toji like a tidal wave. He can't stand it. His chest tightens, and he has to look away again, his face heating in a way he can't control.

"You're doing great, you know," Harry murmurs, his voice soft but full of conviction. He brushes his fingers through Getou's hair one more time before turning his full attention to Toji. "You don't give yourself enough credit."

Toji grunts, trying to shake off the warmth blooming in his chest. "Just doing what anyone would do."

"Not everyone," Harry counters with a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "You're good for him too, Toji."

"Whether you see it or not."

Toji shifts uncomfortably, trying to pull his arm free from where Getou still clings to him, but the boy stirs slightly, tightening his grip.

Harry moves closer, bending down to press a soft kiss to Toji's brow. The gesture, so simple yet so intimate, makes Toji's chest ache.

"Kid's lucky," Harry says softly, his hand brushing through Toji's hair now, mimicking the way Toji had soothed Getou earlier. "To have you."

Toji snorts, but the sound lacks its usual bite. "You're the one he's lucky to have."

Harry chuckles, the sound soft and warm. "I would like to think we're the lucky ones, besides he's got both of us now, eh." Harry playfully taps him on the nose, and Toji gently nips the tip of his finger, causing Harry to pull it back with a laugh.

"H-Harry?" Getou says timidly, and Toji hopes the brat gets over his timidity around them, eventually he'll understand that Harry would burn the world before he hurt him.

Toji will enjoy the chaos alongside him.

"Hey sweetheart."

if only his clients could see him now, honestly get him away from all this domestic shit before he throws up.

He doesn't move a muscle.


Getou shifts uncomfortably as he stands beside Harry in the clothing store, his fingers tugging at the hem of his too-small jacket. The store was bustling with activity, but all he could focus on was the weight of his own awkwardness.

Harry had insisted on bringing him here saying it's his clothes so he should get to pick em out, and while Getou knew it was necessary, he hated how exposed he felt.

This wasn't something he was used to, someone caring enough to make sure he had the right size, the right fit.

He wasn't used to... any of this.

He glances up at Harry, who was sifting through the racks with his usual easygoing smile. It was baffling, really, how Harry always seemed so calm, so certain, while Getou felt like he was standing on a tightrope.

When Harry first seen he was uncomfortable, Harry told him they could leave if he wanted but he didn't want to disappoint Harry, so he shook his head and pushed through, and he's glad he did if only for the smiles he gets from Harry every time he tries on a piece of clothing offered.

He can admit despite his anxiety with crowds, it's been more enjoyable than he thought.

"Here," Harry said, holding up a navy blue hoodie.

"Try this one on. It'll look good on you." The casual way Harry says sweet and kind stuff like that is jarring.

Getou stared at it, then hesitantly took the hoodie, slipping it on. The fabric was soft, comfortable, and it fit perfectly, something he wasn't used to. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, feeling a strange mixture of surprise and discomfort as he saw himself.

He squirms as Harry beams at him through the mirror and calls him a handsome boy. As he turned back toward Harry, a older woman approached, smiling warmly at the pair of them.

"Oh, my, what a handsome young man," she remarked, her voice filled with friendly warmth. "You must be so proud of him, especially with how much he takes after you." Getou froze, the words hitting him like a jolt.

'Takes after?' His mind repeats those words and scrambles to process what she was saying, Harry merely laughed softly, that same easy smile still on his face.

"I am," Harry said, his tone gentle but confident. "I'm very proud of my son."

Getou felt his breath catch in his throat. He turned to Harry, eyes wide, but Harry didn't even blink.

There was no hesitation.

He is numb to the rest of the conversation and watches absently as a few more words are exchanged and then the woman moves on. His heart was pounding, and he felt a strange mixture of warmth and confusion swirl inside him.

The rest of the shopping trip passed in a blur, and before long, they were walking home, the quiet stretch of the street only broken by the occasional car passing by.

Getou's thoughts, though, were still circling around what Harry had said, 'He called me his son.'

Why, they barely know each other?

Getou couldn't take it anymore. He glanced up at Harry, who was walking beside him, hands in his pockets, a calm expression on his face.

Gathering his courage, Getou spoke, his voice quiet. "Why... why didn't you correct her?"

Harry glanced down, raising an eyebrow. "Correct her about what?"

Getou bit his lip, his fingers twisting nervously. "That I'm... adopted," he mumbled, still trying to come to terms with that, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That I'm not really your son." At that Harry slows his pace slightly, turning his full attention to Getou.

His green eyes are warm and understanding, "Because it doesn't make a difference," he said quietly.

"To me, you are my son." Getou inhales.

"Whether by blood or not, whether I've known you for two seconds or twenty years, it doesn't change how I feel." Getou stared up at him, his heart thudding in his chest.

He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to process the flood of emotions that were surging through him. Harry's words were so simple, so matter-of-fact, but they hit Getou with the weight of everything he'd never thought he'd have, love, acceptance, family.

Harry smiled gently, his voice soft but firm. "And if you want that," he continued, "I'm willing to take that role. You don't have to call me anything different or change how you feel, but know that I'm here, and I'll be here for you."

"Always."

Getou's throat tightened, a lump forming that he couldn't swallow down. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Instead, he nodded, his chest so full of emotion that it felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Always." He takes the offered hand.


Satoru sat on the park bench, arms crossed, glaring at the groups of children playing on the swings and jungle gym. His mother had insisted he be taken to the park, something about playing with others and socializing.

He didn't see the point. None of these kids were worth his time, not even close to his level. They were weak, boring, predictable, everything he hated.

He huffed, leaning back and letting his head fall against the bench as he surveyed the scene before him.

A few kids shot him wary glances, likely already victims of his earlier boredom-induced terrorizing.

All it took was a few well-placed glares and a small, controlled flicker of his cursed energy to send them running. It had been amusing for a moment, watching them scramble, but now even that had lost its charm.

He needed something better.

The wind shifted, a soft breeze brushing through his hair, and his Six Eyes stirred.

Something, no, someone, caught his attention.

His eyes narrowed, honing in on the new presence that had entered the park. He tilted his head, intrigued by the oddity.

A man and a boy were walking through the park, the older one looking like he'd stepped out of a different world altogether. Satoru's gaze locked onto him first. There was something powerful there, something he could feel even from a distance.

It wasn't just cursed energy, it was more, something layered beneath the surface. His eyes brightened as he focused, his Six Eyes dissecting the man's presence.

'Interesting.'

Then there was the boy, younger, much smaller. The boy's energy was peculiar, not strong in the way that made Satoru think of a threat, but it was unique. There was a quiet intensity, something lurking beneath the surface that made Gojo pause.

he grins, already feeling the stirrings of excitement ripple through him.

Finally, something that wasn't dull.

The man Looks down beside the boy, his voice low but audible to Satoru's sharp ears.

"Do you want to play, Getou?" he asked, gesturing toward the other kids in the park. The boy, Getou, shook his head almost immediately, glancing away as if the idea of joining the other children repulsed him.

Satoru's smile widened.

At least now, he isn't bored anymore.


A/n:

Some Toji and Getou fluff.

And we've introduced a new character!

Imagine how even more powerful Satoru would be under the guidance of Toji.

Gojo is rich and Toji likes money, Harry wants him to officially stop assassinations and what's a better offer than to get paid to train his brat and new freaky rich friend.