lawly

by footfungus

lawly

18. Chapter 18

anuary 2005

Utahime knew this was probably a mistake.

There was absolutely no good reason why she should be wrapped up in the arms of Satoru Gojo, a sophomore two years her junior and the most irritating prick she'd ever known. There was no good reason why she should be in his bed, the afternoon sun trying to scorch through the thin curtains, his parents at work, the house empty. There was no good reason why she should be letting him take off her shirt, run his large hands across her torso, his eyes fixed on her chest.

"Stop staring," Utahime muttered, clutching a handful of his silky white hair and pulling his head back, his gaze finally traveling back to her face. He smirked a little, blue eyes sparkling like chips of aquamarine. He leaned in close, crowding her, pressing his lips to hers, and she could feel his smile, feel the puff of his laughter.

There was absolutely no reason why she should be feeling this good. Why he should be this good.

This was his first time, she knew. He shouldn't be so skilled at making her body tingle, making the space between her legs ache with need. He shouldn't know exactly where to touch her, how to kiss her, how to stare at her in such a way that she felt like he was seeing right into her soul.

To be fair, it was her first time too. Every sensation was new and exciting, each brush of fingers against skin like a scalding brand, each sigh like new life being breathed into existence.

But it just wasn't fair.

She was supposed to be good at everything. She was supposed to be the best, the top of the class, the top of the whole school. And she had been – from her freshman year, perfect grades and perfect attendance, every exam achieving top results, every teacher praising her work ethic, her intelligence.

Until he came along.

If Utahime Iori had been perfection personified, Satoru Gojo might as well have been a god. Where Utahime had to study hard, spending days preparing for exams and presentations, Satoru's ability came naturally. He was two years younger than her, but he'd been placed in some high level classes due to the fact that his own classes were too easy for him and he'd become a menace for the other students, goofing off and causing mayhem on a daily basis. And then he had become a menace for her.

She'd been curious about him when she'd first seen him: a tall and grinning boy with perfectly tousled white hair, his twinkling blue eyes looking at her with keen interest from behind his dark circular sunglasses. Standing outside her chemistry classroom with his best friend Suguru – long dark hair in a bun and sharp, smiling eyes – they'd made quite a pair. But then Satoru had pulled on one of her pigtails and laughed the loudest laugh she'd ever heard, and the spell had been broken.

Satoru was in several of her science and math classes – the subjects at which he excelled. He always tried to sit next to her, shuffling other students' belongings out of the way, scribbling notes to her and tossing the crumpled wads of paper onto her desk on the days when he was forced to sit a few desks away. Always an obscene drawing, which Utahime would rip into pieces before a teacher caught her with such a thing.

The other students found him funny — this young and boisterous kid who was taller and smarter than most of them. He enjoyed basking in their praise and indulgence, but Satoru's focus was mainly on Utahime, stealing her pens, tapping her shoe with his under their desks, mocking the photos of her favorite baseball players that she'd pasted onto her class folders, collecting her hair ties around his wrist and wearing them as if they were a badge of honor, as if they were a couple.

Utahime only saw him as competition. She wanted only to do her very best in school, to focus on herself and her own hobbies. And now, she was competing with a boy two years younger for the top spot in the school. The competition may have all been in her head, but that didn't make it any less real for her. She'd silently compare their test scores, kicking herself when he scored better marks than her, grinding her teeth as she watched him tilting back in his chair, balancing precariously on two legs and grinning unconcernedly.

When Satoru began joking about taking her out for a date, asking her if she loved anyone, she made it quite clear that she didn't want or have time for a relationship, and especially one with him.

"Love is a waste of time," she'd said, and he'd grinned.

"Why not waste it on me, then?" he'd replied, and she could only laugh derisively.

Sadly, despite his exasperating nature and the fact that Utahime didn't want to tie herself down with a boyfriend, she couldn't deny that Satoru was quite good looking, earning the admiration of most of the girls in school. He was very easy on the eyes – perhaps one of the prettiest people she'd ever seen. The fact that he'd singled her out from the rest of the female population did satisfy her in some way – another achievement to add to her list. She may not have been able to surpass him academically, but he'd chosen her as his object of interest. A sad consolation prize for her.

And then one day, despite her better judgment, she had allowed him to kiss her in the physics lab after school. Satoru had been extremely bothersome about a topic they'd been learning about, the concept of which he'd grasped immediately, but which had been more difficult for Utahime to understand. He'd "tutored" her, giving her unwelcome hints and advice as she struggled through an assignment, and after she'd begrudgingly accepted his help and finally completed the assignment, he'd demanded a reward in the form of a kiss.

To her utmost surprise and chagrin, she had very much enjoyed the kiss. He'd been unusually gentle, his lips soft and tasting of the fruit gummies he liked to snack on. He'd come away looking a little dazed, eyes slightly widened, a spacey smile tugging at his mouth. Utahime had thought it cute, that if he'd been a cartoon there would be little pink hearts floating out of his head.

And that's when Utahime realized that she had power over him. Her competitive nature started to rear its head, telling her that if she couldn't be the best, she could at least take comfort in knowing that she had some kind of influence over who had now become the best.

The kissing became a semi-regular thing after that, Satoru cornering her in an empty classroom after school or during a break, his mouth on hers, his hands on her waist, her thighs, creeping up her uniform skirt. Utahime would only allow it if he behaved himself during class, kept from being too pestilent. But she began to seek him out too, usually after he'd scored better than her on an exam, just to prove to herself that she had power over the most powerful boy.

She was angry and jealous during those times, crushing her lips to Satoru's, trying to soak in some of his intelligence, to absorb it through his saliva. Satoru didn't care what mood she was in, elated to see her so worked up over him, accepting her no matter what. He even seemed to enjoy those times, a Cheshire cat's grin spreading across his face while she dragged him to a dark corner, him taking advantage of her boldness by trying to slip his hands beneath her shirt.

After a particularly difficult calculus exam that had Satoru pitifully patting Utahime's head at her five-points-less-than-perfect score, Utahime decided she needed to go all the way. She hadn't known what had come over her except that she'd been fuming and Satoru had been staring at her lips for the duration of their class and it had ignited a feeling of incensed want within her. She loved — needed — to have even that small modicum of command over him. She needed to cement that.

A scribbled note, written with her favorite purple pen, the paper folded over neatly. She'd thrusted it over to Satoru, watched as he'd read it. She had copied one of his crude drawings — a cartoon sausage sitting in a taco shell. Beneath the drawing she'd written: This Friday. After school?

Satoru's face had turned the slightest pink and he fought to suppress a smile while he'd hastily scratched out a response back to her: Hell yeah.

And that's how she'd ended up here, in Satoru's room, Utahime having driven them both to his house after school. He'd wasted no time escorting her into his parents' lavish home, directing her straight to his bed, ripping off his school sweater and tie as he went.

"Ow!"

Satoru had slid his fingers under her bra band and snapped it against her skin, the sharp wap loud in his otherwise quiet room.

"What was that for?" Utahime hissed at him, her skin smarting, drawing away from him.

Satoru snickered, unremorseful. "A little pain, a little pleasure," he said, pulling her back, ducking his head, his mouth finding the sore place against her ribs, just under her armpit, kissing it gently.

Utahime tried to maintain her indignance, but with his face so close to her chest, his mouth peppering kisses over her clothed breast, his fingers catching over the edge of her bra cup and pulling it downwards slowly… she forgot all about the pain.

"Take off your shirt," Utahime commanded, her hand covering his, stilling him, preventing him from revealing her chest.

"Huh?" Satoru blinked, his gaze, which had been fixed on her bra, shifting up to her face.

"Mine is off already," she said, finding the edge of his shirt and pulling upwards. "It's your turn."

"Mm, I don't know about that," Satoru said, his annoying smirk plastered on his annoyingly handsome face. "If you see me shirtless you might be overcome with lust and then this will be over too quickly."

Utahime rolled her eyes and continued trying to pull his shirt up.

"You're already taking my innocence. Let me have some fun," Satoru pouted.

"You're taking my innocence!" Utahime hissed, not wanting to be too loud even though she knew there was no one else in the house.

Satoru grinned. "Still can't believe that. You're too old to still be a virgin."

"I'm only seventeen!"

"So old," Satoru snickered. "Taking advantage of little, innocent me."

"Maybe I should go," Utahime said, letting go of Satoru's shirt and sitting up, looking for her own shirt. This was definitely a mistake. Why did Utahime think that allowing this to happen would somehow give her an edge over him? She'd be better off if she didn't integrate herself with this pest of a boy. Maybe she'd have been better off with someone in her own grade, who wasn't so immature. Or even Suguru, who was also quite good looking and at least was polite to her.

"No!" Satoru grabbed her wrist, a touch of desperation in his voice. "Here, it's gone." He pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid movement.

And then it was Utahime's turn to stare. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen him shirtless before. He took every opportunity to remove his clothes at school, during PE classes or his track meets, where he, of course, always placed first.

But this was somehow different, he on his bed, his hair ruffled with the removal of his shirt. Golden sunlight glinted off his hair, edged his unfairly soft and flawless skin, reflected in his earnest eyes. His long legs spread across the bed, and his muscles, while still possessing the wiry leanness of a growing teen, were developing into hard planes, defining his arms, his pecs, his abs…

Utahime was moving before she knew it, pushing him back onto the pillows and straddling him, kissing him, feeling his hands immediately back on her body. He was magnetic and she hated it. She needed to put him in his place, remind him who was the senior here, who was in charge.

But it became increasingly hard to do that when she kept melting with every squeeze of his hands, every time his tongue swept into her mouth.

Very shortly, he had removed her bra and he spent a few moments squeezing her breasts experimentally, running his thumb over her nipples and watching them harden while Utahime wished that his curtains could block out more of the sunlight. She felt exposed, the brightness of the room leaving nothing hidden, nothing to mystery.

"I like these," Satoru murmured, gently squeezing both her breasts at the same time, causing her face to heat.

"They're too small," she muttered, wanting to cover her chest, stop him from staring.

"They're perfect." He cupped each one in each of his hands. "They fit perfectly."

And he sat up, keeping her in his lap, lowering his lips to one of her nipples and taking it into his mouth. Utahime gasped, back arching slightly with the sensation. She felt his tongue flick against her nipple, causing her skin to prickle deliciously.

"Where did you learn how to do all this?" Utahime whispered, breath short.

"Video," Satoru mumbled around her nipple. "Something Suguru sent me."

Utahime felt slightly repulsed. "Porn?"

Satoru shrugged. "He wanted me to be prepared." He moved his lips from her breasts up to her neck, his hands sliding downwards, slipping beneath the waistband of her skirt to knead her bottom.

"Suguru knows about this?" Utahime gasped.

"Of course. He's my best friend." Satoru's hands came to her hip, fiddling with the zipper of her skirt, trying to undo it.

"What did he–"

"Can we stop talking about Suguru? It's killing the vibe." Satoru had successfully undone the zipper and was trying to figure out how to get the skirt off while Utahime was still straddling him. "Anyway, those videos are kind of lame. Too fake. Like WWE."

Utahime laughed. Porn was too fake for a teenage boy? "Think you can do better?"

"I know I can," Satoru said with a grin.

"Prove it, virgin," Utahime challenged.

Satoru paused, his eyes lit up with the fire of competition and desire, and in a swift movement, he lifted Utahime off his lap and flipped her around, laying her on her back. He yanked her skirt off, tossing it aside, and his eyes zeroed in on her crotch.

Heart racing, Utahime knew what he must be seeing, knew that there would be a wet patch there, evidence of her own desire. Feeling self-conscious again, she reached down to undo Satoru's belt, the metal buckle clinking, his own hands joining hers to unbutton his pants, to slide them off.

And then Utahime could see his desire, a large bulge pushing against the fabric of his boxer briefs. Her breathing kicked up another level.

They reached for each other at the same time, Satoru's hand touching the wetness of her underwear, her hand covering his bulge, feeling warmth and hardness.

They both jolted with the sensation of another's touch, and then Satoru's confidence began to waver. Utahime heard his breath catch as she experimentally squeezed him, as fascinated with his member as he had been with her breasts. He hooked his fingers around her underwear and pulled down, but Utahime could feel his nervousness, the smirk gone from his face, a flush on his cheeks.

She tugged at his boxer briefs, and he helped to remove them, and then they were both naked, Utahime on her back, Satoru kneeling between her legs. He looked dumbfounded, his eyes staring at her crotch in that all-seeing way, and Utahime couldn't help her own staring. She had no frame of reference, but he looked huge, and she worried that he wouldn't fit. Not without pain, at least.

Satoru's eyes traveled up from her groin, across her belly, lingering on her chest, and finally to her face. He still wasn't smiling, his jaw gone slack, his eyes glazed over. He leaned forward, his long body covering hers easily, pressing his forehead to hers.

"You're perfect," he whispered, and he kissed her.

It was unexpectedly soft, unexpectedly sincere. Utahime returned the kiss, her hand unconsciously coming up to cup his cheek, to slide through his soft hair. How could he be so goddamn irresistible?

She could feel his cock brushing against her belly, warm and unfamiliar. Reaching down with her other hand, she touched it, wrapping her hand around it. Satoru's hips jerked at her touch and he gasped against her lips.

"It's soft," Utahime murmured, rubbing her hand up and down the velvety skin.

"Yeah." Satoru sounded distracted and distant. "Don't…" He exhaled slowly. "Don't do that. You're gonna make me come so fast."

Utahime let go of him and he reached over to his nightstand, rummaging around one-handed in the drawer and pulling out a box of condoms. She watched, captivated, as he took one out, unwrapped it, and rolled it down his length. By the time he was done, Utahime could tell that his nervousness had fully set in, his movements not as fluid and confident as before, his eyes round with caution and eagerness.

"Ready?" he asked, crawling over her once more, a hand widening her legs. She nodded, and he shifted, trying to find the right position, aligning himself to her.

He pushed in, meeting a strong resistance, and Utahime felt that she'd been right, that he was too big, that he couldn't fit. But he pushed again, and he slid into her an inch.

She was breathing in short bursts, feeling stretched wide, a slight stinging. Satoru was wordless for once and she could hear his own breathing, loud in her ear, his mouth hovering over her neck, hot air sending shivers over her skin.

He pushed again and Utahime gasped, the stinging sharper, deeper, foreign.

"You okay?" Satoru asked, though he sounded as if his mind were very far away.

"Hurts," Utahime whispered.

Satoru kissed her neck, petting her hair. "Do you want to stop?"

Utahime shook her head. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. She was the best. She could master everything that was thrown at her. She would master this, too. "Keep going."

And he did, pushing his hips forward centimeter by centimeter, until he was fully seated in her, Utahime frozen with the strange feeling of fullness and soreness.

"Fuck," Satoru muttered, strained, his voice wavering. "It's… so warm. So… tight." He withdrew slightly and pushed back in again. "Oh my god." He was practically whining, his face buried into Utahime's neck.

Utahime moved under him, pushing her hips upward, trying to create movement. Satoru inhaled sharply and took the hint, trying to find a rhythm. Neither of them knew what to do, Satoru trying to figure out the right way to position his knees, Utahime not quite matching the thrust of his hips. She was still feeling tender, but the more they moved, the easier it got, her wetness helping him to slide in and out of her more easily.

Her belly fluttered with desire, Satoru's burning skin sliding against hers, her heart beating out of her chest. Feeling hot, feeling full, tingles across her whole body. A groan from deep within Satoru's chest, an unexpected moan from her own lips.

And then all of a sudden Satoru was gasping, hands fisting into the bedsheets, his body convulsing.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Satoru moaned, face pressed into the pillow beside Utahime's head, voice muffled. He writhed against her, pushing deep, pressing her into the mattress. "Fuck, that was too fast."

"You came," Utahime said a little breathlessly.

Satoru lay panting, slightly collapsed on top of her. "Yeah," he said, a small apology in his tone. He seemed unable to move for a few moments, face pushed into Utahime's collarbone, lips brushing lightly against her chest. Then he slid himself out with a slight hiss, and Utahime could see the evidence, the white filling the tip of the condom. "Don't worry, I'll still get you off."

Utahime felt strangely empty without him, even considering how uncomfortable she'd been moments before. She wanted him back, wanted him to fill her again, to get used to the feeling.

Satoru was trying to remove the condom, pushing it off himself uncertainly. "Shit," he muttered as the condom flopped off, spilling some of his expenditure onto the bed. "Dammit."

"I doubt that's the first time your cum has dirtied your bed," Utahime said dryly.

Satoru grinned fiendishly and snickered, but said nothing. He tossed the condom into an overflowing trash bin and then turned his attention back to Utahime.

"Your turn," he said, and Utahime's heart rate increased as he came back to her, his hand reaching down to touch her, his fingers sliding through her folds.

And then a door slammed somewhere in the house.

They both froze, Satoru's hand on Utahime's crotch, his bright blue eyes staring into her clear brown ones. A woman's voice floated to them through Satoru's open bedroom door, laughing at something, on the phone.

"Shit," Satoru whispered. "My mom's home."

Notes:

I originally wanted this to take place in the canon jujutsu world to create some cute moments with Gojo's flying ability, but I also wanted it to be as fluffy and happy as possible with no character deaths or risk of life loss, so I made the tough decision to have it take place in a curse-free, sorcerer-free world. I'll just have to save the canon-compliant sorcery cuteness for another fic :)

This is my first fic! Go easy on me :D

Chapter 2: How It's Going

Summary:

In which Satoru is annoying, Shoko and Suguru are cute, and Utahime is bribed.

Notes:

NSFW warning, but you already knew that.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

September 2017

"Uta, you make me so fucking hot… Holy shit."

The low oath was muttered straight into Utahime's ear, causing a shiver to jolt its way up her spine and a lewd breath to escape her lips. She would have tried to control herself a little more, but it was pointless when she was sprawled out on her back and it was Satoru Gojo above her, inside of her, his elbows caging her head, his mouth suckling at her neck in between uttered obscenities and sweet nothings. He knew her, knew what she liked and how to draw those sighs from her as if he were stealing her very life.

She hated it.

They'd done this too often over the years, Utahime allowing the most irritating man she'd ever encountered to know her so intimately. Far too often when she couldn't stand being around him for longer than an hour.

But damn if he wasn't good in bed.

It was completely unfair that he had to be so handsome, so intelligent, so charming, and so skilled between the sheets. The universe should have cursed him with a small dick, or complete lack of ability, but alas, he was very well-endowed and knew his way around a woman's body. The only thing that prevented him from being the most annoyingly perfect human being was that he was, well, annoying as hell.

Lack of respect for superiors, loud, sarcastic, and mischievous.

Exactly the same as he'd been in high school.

Well, maybe a little more mellow, a little less hotheaded, his rambunctiousness replaced by suaveness, oozing confidence, an ever-present smirk.

They'd come a long way since high school, but still, the only power that Utahime had over him was the knowledge that she'd been his first, and that over the years she'd been the person he had continuously come back to, with him becoming more skilled each time. He was just too damn good at everything.

"In or out?" Satoru muttered the question to her now, his teeth biting down gently on her earlobe.

"Out, you idiot," Utahime replied breathily, and she gasped as he pulled out of her, spilling himself onto her stomach with a low groan.

Satoru panted heavily above her, each exhale laced with exhausted satisfaction, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Some day you'll let me do it inside."

Utahime pushed at his shoulders, trying to shove him away, but he was too solid, his broad, perfect muscles just another reason to hate him. "You already do," she said flatly.

"Without a condom, I mean," Satoru murmured, his nose tracing her jawline.

"Never," she said, pushing at him again.

He just chuckled, burying his face into her neck, giving her loud, smacking kisses. "Never say never, sweet Utahime."

"Ugh! Enough!" She squirmed under his grip and he finally let go of her, rolling onto his back and smiling blissfully.

"Same time next week?" Satoru asked, pillowing his hands behind his head while Utahime got up to clean herself off.

"You're getting greedy," she said, going into the bathroom and turning on the shower, waiting for the water to heat. "You were here last week, too. Isn't all that traveling a waste of time?"

"Seeing my precious colleague is never a waste of time," Satoru said, and Utahime snorted. "But the truth is that the school board keeps asking me over for meetings about this and that. Stuff that could be done over the phone, but you know they love their formalities."

Utahime stepped into the shower, the steaming water washing away the evidence of their intimacy while she grumbled internally. The school at which they both taught was always asking Satoru for his assistance and expertise in developing teaching programs, despite the fact that they, too, found him difficult to deal with. They knew that he could be off doing something far more interesting with his considerable ability, but he'd chosen to dedicate his life to education and nurturing the minds of the next generation. He'd also gained notoriety as an exceptional track and field coach, his students consistently doing well in competitions, which made him even more valuable to the school, and which he bragged about often.

Utahime was just glad that he was assigned to the school's sister campus a couple cities away, which meant she didn't have to deal with him often. But of course, he still found his way into her life no matter where he was, school meetings or not.

"They're talking about transferring me." Satoru's voice carried over the rushing of the water.

"To where?" Utahime called back, soaping up a bath sponge and scrubbing down her body.

"Here," Satoru said, his voice suddenly louder as he appeared in the bathroom's doorway, leaning against the frame, watching Utahime through the fogged-up glass.

"Here, here?" Utahime froze, eyes fixed on Satoru's blurry figure. "As in, my school?"

Satoru chuckled and entered the bathroom, opening the shower door and joining Utahime. "So it's your school now? Here, let me do that. You've forgotten to bathe yourself." He took the sponge out of her hands, turned her around, and began scrubbing her back gently.

"You're going to transfer here?" Irritation was coursing through Utahime's veins so furiously that she didn't register that Satoru had discarded the sponge and was instead using his hands to lather up her body.

"You mad?"

"I – you – but –" The thought of Satoru being at her school every day, having to endure more of his teasing and goading, just like in high school…

Satoru laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not going to do it. I have a great crop of new students. And Megumi's started now too, so I want to be there for him."

Utahime sagged with relief, and finally realized that Satoru had been fondling her chest, his own naked body pressed firmly against her from behind. Despite her irritation, heat flared in her belly again.

"But if I did transfer, maybe you'd finally date me," Satoru said offhandedly.

"Wha – Date you? What are you talking about?"

"Don't you think we've been doing this long enough? In and out of each other's lives for years on end?" His hands circled lower, sliding smoothly across her skin.

"You're not the dating type, Satoru. I know your list of women is as long as your receipts from the sweet shop."

"Not any longer than your list of men."

Utahime grumbled. He wasn't exactly wrong – she'd enjoyed her fair share of partners, but she didn't think her numbers racked up anywhere near his. "You know how I feel about relationships. They're a waste of time."

"But if you did like relationships, I'd be your first choice, right?"

Utahime gave a single shout of laughter. "Absolutely not."

"You wound me, Uta," Satoru said, but he didn't sound hurt at all. His hands had reached her thighs and Utahime sighed with resignation, leaning her head back onto his chest, letting him do what he willed. He could get her blood heating like nothing else.

She'd never say it to him, but he'd ruined other men for her, to the point that no one else could make her feel as good as he did. She supposed she should be grateful that he kept hanging around, kept offering himself to her, so she didn't have to be without satisfaction. It meant that she didn't have to keep finding someone else to please her, someone else to fend off when they wanted something more from her than she was willing to give. Satoru was content to satisfy her needs (and his own) and be on his way. And she certainly didn't want to date him.

"I doubt anything could wound that ego of yours," she said vaguely, starting to get lost in the haze of desire again.

"Mm," Satoru intoned, his hand finally cupping her center, his fingers pushing into her. "So I won't be transferring, but maybe you'll change your mind about dating me."

Utahime's eyes were closed, mind mostly gone already. "Unlikely," she mumbled, grinding into his hand.

Satoru kissed her neck, mouth hotter than the steaming water, hair dripping onto her chest. "We'll see about that."

Utahime didn't know what possessed Satoru to talk about dating, of all things, but she brushed it off as another of his pointless babblings. He could run his mouth like no other, anything from teasing her to complaining about the school officials to the latest hijinks that he and Suguru had gotten up to. Utahime thought it could even be a bet of some kind that the two idiots had going: the fastest way to irritate her, perhaps.

In any case, she ignored it and moved on with her life, going about her work week like normal: teaching singing and music to her students, keeping up with baseball news, making plans with Shoko.

Shoko had been what Utahime lovingly called "the third stooge" — the last in the chaotic trio that included Satoru and Suguru. The three of them had been best friends in high school, and as Utahime had begrudgingly spent a lot of time with Satoru, she'd ended up spending a lot of time with Suguru and Shoko, the latter of whom became her closest friend over the years.

These days, Shoko kept busy with her work as an emergency room doctor, but she always made time to have drinks with Utahime (and a smoke or three for herself, for which Utahime always scolded her).

Friday night found the two women sitting at their favorite sushi bar close to midnight, Shoko having just gotten off a double shift, Utahime two bottles of beer deep. Shoko was twirling an unlit cigarette in her long fingers, finishing up telling Utahime about the patients she'd had during her shift – something that always fascinated Utahime.

"...and someone who got accidentally stabbed with a needle at a metal concert. Luckily my last one was just a girl who was having a mild allergic reaction to something she'd eaten. Just a bit of intravenous antihistamine and she was off on her way."

"You're incredible," Utahime said, opening another bottle of beer, offering some to Shoko. "I couldn't do what you do."

"I couldn't do what you do, dealing with rowdy teenagers all day," Shoko replied, pointing her cigarette at Utahime.

Utahime shrugged. "They're not so bad."

"Perhaps not," Shoko said, tilting her head in thought. "Even Satoru can handle them."

"That's because Satoru is a teenager himself."

Shoko laughed. "Well, that's true." She paused, watching Utahime swirl her beer bottle. "He's a good teacher though, isn't he? Didn't he win some award recently?"

Utahime rolled her eyes. "It was just a distinguished teacher recognition from the school board. I've gotten it a few times. He just made a big deal out of it."

Shoko smiled. "Hmm."

"What?"

"I seem to remember you making a big deal out of it when you've gotten it."

"Yeah, well. It's old news now." Utahime took a large swig of her beer, keeping her voice casual, trying not to let her annoyance show. Truthfully, she loved receiving that award, and Satoru had gloated to her for days when he'd gotten it this year, upsetting her winning streak. She'd dealt with it by pinning him to her bed for hours, the both of them emerging spent and exhausted and satiated.

Shoko kept smiling.

"What? " Utahime asked exasperatedly.

"Oh, nothing. Just you two competing for the best again." Shoko placed her cigarette between her teeth, speaking around it. "Maybe it'd be better if you just… joined forces, so to speak."

"What does that mean?"

Shoko waved her hand dismissively. "I dunno. He's really not so bad, that's all I'm saying. You could do a lot worse." She was patting her pockets, looking for a lighter.

"What are you talking about? Do a lot worse?" Utahime was reminded of the comments Satoru had made about them dating. She didn't like the direction this conversation was headed.

"Nothing, nothing…"

Utahime thought Shoko was avoiding her eyes suspiciously, but wondered if it was the effects of the beer making her misinterpret things. She pulled the cigarette out of Shoko's teeth. "I've told you to stop smoking these. You should know better, Doctor Ieiri. Now tell me what's going on. Why are you talking about Satoru in such a weird way?"

"It's nothing!" Shoko grabbed the cigarette back and stuffed it into her shirt pocket. "So anyway, I heard your school is going to have an exchange event?"

Utahime sighed at the blatant subject change, but in an effort to not let Satoru ruin her night when he wasn't even around, she let it go and told Shoko about the upcoming school event, where the two campuses would come together for some lighthearted competition. She was looking forward to this year's event, where she hoped that her campus would prevail as the winner after their resounding defeat last year, mostly at the hands of a single boy from Satoru's campus.

After another beer, the conversation devolved into fits of giggles at random things, the topic having been lost completely. The restaurant staff eventually shooed them out and they stumbled and giggled into the cool evening, Shoko finally lighting her cigarette and promising Utahime that she'd only smoke half of it.

Utahime, even tipsy as she was already, was ready to continue drinking at another bar, or perhaps drag Shoko along to some karaoke, but she noticed Shoko trying to stifle an enormous yawn.

"Sho! You're tired! I'll take you home," Utahime slurred, rummaging through her purse, digging to find her car keys.

"No, Uta," Shoko said, smiling gently, taking the keys from Utahime's bumbling hands. "You've had one too many beers. I'll call us a ride."

"What about my car?"

"I'll get it taken care of," Shoko assured her.

Utahime made a halfhearted sound of protest, then gave up and sat on the edge of a tall planter box near the street's curb while Shoko took out her phone and placed a call.

"Babe," Shoko said into her phone, her voice deeper and scratchier than usual due to her exhaustion. "Can you come pick us up?" She paused, listening, sitting next to Utahime. "Yeah. Uta's had too much. I'm just tired. Yeah. Thanks, hun." She hung up and turned to Utahime. "He's on his way."

Utahime slung an arm around Shoko's shoulders, smiling vaguely, pressing her cheek against Shoko's. "Your voice is so sexy, Sho. He's so lucky. I bet you sound so hot in bed."

"Uta!"

"Whaaat? You probably do!"

Shoko laughed lightly and slid her arm around Utahime's waist. "You're a menace when you're drunk."

"You love it."

"It's like having a second Gojo."

"Ugh! Gross." Utahime wrinkled her nose and tried to pull away from Shoko.

Shoko only hugged her tighter. "You two are so alike. No wonder he's so stuck on you."

"Tch! He's only good for a roll in the hay."

"He's more than that and you know it."

Utahime clamped her teeth together. She knew Satoru was more than that, but she'd never say such a thing aloud.

Her alcohol-soaked mind drifted away from thoughts of Satoru and she and Shoko were back to giggling about nonsensical things, the neon lights from the restaurant and surrounding businesses casting them in multi-colored hues.

Soon, a sleek black sports car pulled up in front of them, the passenger-side window rolling down smoothly, the driver leaning over and smiling. "You ladies need a lift?"

Sharply chiseled jawline, dark violet eyes that looked almost black in the night, long dark hair pulled back into a half-up, half-down style, black plugs in his earlobes.

"Suguru!" Utahime shouted, diving into the car through the open window, legs dangling outside.

"That's one way to get into a car," Suguru chuckled as he helped to pull Utahime inside and she clambered into the back seat. Shoko opened the door and slid into the front seat, smiling warmly at Suguru.

"Hey, hot stuff," she said, and Suguru grinned, leaning forward to kiss her.

"Alright, enough," Utahime said loudly from the back seat. "Take us home, driver."

Suguru smiled as he drew away from Shoko. "Yes, Miss Iori," he said obediently, guiding the car back into traffic.

Shoko settled into her seat, pulling her legs up and crossing them, Suguru's hand coming to rest on her thigh. "Utahime thinks I'd sound hot in bed," she told him.

"She's not wrong." Suguru glanced into the rear view mirror at Utahime. "You're welcome to join us, Uta. I've heard that you can make some incredible sounds too."

Shoko laughed lightly and shoved Suguru on the shoulder. "Stop teasing her."

"What?" Suguru asked innocently. "Satoru's made me curious. You've heard him talk about it, too."

"Don't let Satoru hear you making offers to her."

Utahime's attention had been fading in and out, but her ears pricked up at Shoko's muttered comment.

"Why shouldn't Satoru hear that?" Utahime asked. She would be lying if she said she didn't think about what it would be like with Suguru. He always garnered a fair amount of fawning women wherever he went, and Shoko always seemed more than satisfied.

Shoko glanced out the window a little too quickly. "No reason."

Utahime glared at the back of Shoko's head suspiciously. She was doing it again – acting weirdly about Satoru.

"What's she talking about, Suguru?" Utahime demanded of him, leaning forward between the front seats and stabbing him with her gaze. "Why should Satoru care about who I bang?"

"Uta, so crass!" Shoko said, pushing Utahime back into her seat.

"Suguru! Answer me!" Utahime called, flailing weakly against Shoko.

His voice smooth and calm as always, Suguru said, "Just ignore us, Utahime. We're just being idiots as usual."

Utahime stopped flailing and slumped into the seat. It wasn't worth it to fight them when she was this drunk. She'd likely forget all about it by tomorrow, anyway.

"You'll both regret this," Utahime muttered, making them laugh.

Lofi hip hop was pumping quietly through the speakers, and the low rumble of Suguru's car lulled Utahime into a drowsy state, her gaze wandering from the lights flashing past the window, to the smooth leather car seats, and then to Suguru's hand on Shoko's thigh.

She watched his hand inch slowly up her leg, fingers occasionally digging in gently, his thumb stroking over the fabric of her pants. She watched as the skin of Shoko's arm prickled into goosebumps despite the warmth of the car, but she looked away when Suguru glanced at Shoko, his gaze filled with something that made Utahime's heart ache. There was something familiar in it, something that felt like nostalgia and possession. Utahime couldn't place it, and it made her feel inexplicably melancholy, while at the same time igniting a fire between her legs.

Briefly, she thought about taking up Suguru on his offer. He was probably joking, but Utahime could call him on his bluff. It would be a delight to see his reaction, as well as Shoko's. But the thought passed quickly, replaced by an irritated wondering at what Satoru had told Suguru about her. She should be used to it by now, knowing that Satoru and Suguru told everything – literally everything – to each other, but it was still irksome. Utahime was just glad that Suguru was mostly polite enough not to let on that he probably knew every detail of every encounter she'd had with Satoru.

The thought of those encounters sent another line of fire down her spine and she sighed, dropping her head back and closing her eyes, letting the music wash over her senses. But it wasn't enough to quell the fire, and when she was dropped off at her apartment, singing a loud goodbye to Suguru and Shoko, she was still pent up.

She let herself in with the spare key she kept hidden in the potted plant near her door, her apartment dark, quiet, empty. She was feeling needy, wanting a release, needing to expel the tightness in her lower regions. She thought about texting Satoru, knowing that if she did, he'd arrive within a couple hours. He had never denied her, not once, no matter the time of day or night.

But the thought of him hanging around afterwards, the possibility that he'd want to stay the night since it was so late already – it was enough for her to toss her phone aside. On the occasions that she'd let him spend the night before, he'd made such a nuisance of himself in the morning, clattering her pots and pans as he made breakfast for them, leaving a mess for her to clean up.

So instead, she just washed her face, stripped down to her underwear and slid into bed, too tired and drunk to shower. And as she lay and watched the ceiling spinning above her, her hand slipped into her underwear, finding wetness, fingers going to work.

Only here, in the secret darkness of her room, in the soft safety of her bed, did Utahime allow herself to think forbidden thoughts. Thoughts that she had banned in the revealing brightness of daytime, the glaring clarity of soberness. Thoughts of desire, of longing, of possession. Thoughts of large hands that could be both gentle and rough, a tongue that could work her into a frenzy, lips that knew every inch of her body.

It's only because he's good at it, she told herself every time this happened, every time his smiling face entered her mind while she took care of herself. It's the only thing he's good for.

She found release to the thought of limpid blue eyes, a soft and knowing chuckle, strong arms wrapped securely around her, the scent of sugared strawberries.

"Satoru," she sighed, and freefell into a deep sleep.

The morning brought a pounding headache, a cheerful and insistent knock on her front door, and Satoru Gojo. Utahime groaned when she saw his dark sunglasses and unmistakable smirk through the door's peephole, letting him in reluctantly.

"What d'you want? Why are you here so early?" Utahime grouched at him, frowning at the smelly, greasy bags of fast food that he'd brought with him. She wrapped her bathrobe more tightly around herself, the only thing she could throw on quickly enough to answer the door.

Satoru laughed. "Early? It's one in the afternoon, sleepyhead."

Utahime winced. Why did he have to be so loud all the time?

Satoru dangled a set of keys in front of Utahime's face, jingling them noisily, and Utahime recognized them as her own. "I was tasked with bringing you your car."

"Dammit, Shoko," Utahime muttered, making a mental note to complain to her about her choice of errand boys. "You came all the way out here just to do that?" Utahime asked Satoru, shuffling groggily into the kitchen to brew herself a cup of strong coffee. She'd need it if Satoru planned on staying.

"I was in the area," Satoru said, plopping her keys onto the kitchen counter, seating himself in one of her barstools, unpacking his bags of food and spreading out, making himself at home.

"I don't want any of that," Utahime said, indicating the food. Just the smell of it nearly made her stomach empty itself.

"Good," Satoru said, his mouth full of fries. "None of it is for you."

Utahime opened her mouth angrily, then decided it wasn't worth it and went back to making her coffee.

Satoru hung around after he finished his food, chattering about everything and nothing, wandering in and out of rooms, picking up Utahime's things and leaving them in the wrong places. Utahime tuned him out as best she could as she changed into actual clothes and got on with her day, trying to make his voice fade into background noise. She'd wanted to spend the day cleaning before settling in to watch her favorite baseball team play in a live broadcast that evening, a stockpile of beer in her fridge and snacks ready to go in her cupboard. It would be no use to try and ask Satoru to leave — he would only laugh or pout or complain, so Utahime just worked around him.

"Do you remember our first time?" Satoru asked suddenly. He was lounging on her couch now, popping gummy bears into his mouth while she puttered around the living room, tidying things here and there.

"What made you think of that?" she asked, kicking his large feet so she could sweep under them.

"Dunno. Feeling nostalgic." He was staring out the window, eyes hidden behind his dark glasses, the afternoon sun bathing him in golden light, much as it had on that day.

"We had to hide in your closet," Utahime said, remembering how Satoru's mother had come home early from work and they'd darted, fully naked, into his closet to wait for her to leave. His mother never did leave, and eventually they'd had to quietly retrieve their clothes and get dressed again, and Utahime had to greet Satoru's mother and make small talk before she could flee the Gojo house. It had been incredibly hard for Utahime not to blurt out that she'd just lost her virginity to her son.

Satoru chuckled. "One of my favorite memories."

Utahime huffed. "I'm just glad your mom was none the wiser about what we were doing."

Satoru shoved more gummy bears into his mouth. "She probably knew. She still asks about you."

"Hmm." Utahime didn't want to think about the things that Satoru told his mother about her. "Well, you're a much better lay these days."

Satoru's laugh was loud, grating on her ears. "I should hope so. God, I came in like three seconds back then."

"Sure did."

"Well, I hope I've made up for it over the years."

Utahime's stomach fluttered. "Yeah," she said quietly. He'd more than made up for it.

"Want to have a go?" Satoru lowered his glasses, keen gaze focused on her. He always asked so casually, like it meant nothing to him.

"Right now?"

"If you want. Or later. I'm not picky." His usual smirk was in place, looking even more mischievous than usual.

"I'm a bit busy at the moment," Utahime said, waving the feather duster she held in her hand. "And the game is on later. So I'm fully booked."

"Shucks," Satoru said, but the smirk didn't leave his face. "What if I bribe you?"

Utahime sighed. "I've told you, Satoru, I can't be bought. I'm too expensive."

"Even for these?" He had reached into his pocket and pulled out two narrow strips of paper, wiggling them in the air.

Utahime stared suspiciously at the paper, and then, from where she was standing across the room, she saw the unmistakable logo of her favorite baseball team, the official holographic seal catching the sunlight. She dropped the feather duster, knowing immediately what the strips of paper were. "How did you get those? It's been impossible to get tickets for this game."

Satoru fanned himself with the tickets. "I'm a man of means."

She dashed over to him and snatched the tickets out of his hand to verify their authenticity. "They're real!" Excitement swelled within her chest.

"We can have a go after the game, then?" Satoru asked, grinning at Utahime's elation.

Utahime paused. "You're coming?"

"Hopefully I will be after the game, yes."

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Well, I did get two tickets."

Utahime grumbled under her breath. She couldn't very well deny Satoru attending the game when he'd been the one to buy the tickets.

"So, after the game?" Satoru's eyes were sparkling cheerily.

She studied him for a moment. "If you behave yourself, maybe."

"Our high school arrangement, then." Satoru smirked.

Utahime sighed. "Yes, that one."

"Done."

The baseball game was everything Utahime could have dreamed of. Exciting, dramatic, a close call, then a vigorous win for her team. Satoru was a surprisingly enjoyable companion to watch the game with: cheering and booing right alongside Utahime, throwing popcorn angrily down the stands when the other team got a player on base, blowing into a plastic horn when Utahime's team scored.

It was a nearly perfect night, though she could have done without Satoru diving in to give her a sloppy kiss when the kiss cam turned to them and the audience screamed its delight. She'd had to push him off of her, Satoru laughing, and he'd kept hold of her hand, interlacing their fingers. Utahime had allowed the hand-holding only because she was having such a good time, but then later was grateful for it when the night air turned cold and her hands started to grow numb. Satoru's hands were always warm. Always willing to provide heat.

And as the game neared its end, heat began to kindle in other places when Satoru began stroking her skin with his thumb, when he leaned close, grinning, after Utahime shivered from the cold and he pressed his warm face to her neck, then brushed his lips along the scar that ran across her face.

She wanted to bat him away, to scold him for being so affectionate in such a public place. What if someone from the school saw them? What if the kiss cam got around?

But as it always was with Satoru, he tended to get his way. And that, in combination with Utahime's need to keep him under control with the only way she knew, meant that she was giving back to him, leaning into his warmth, scooting close to him and pressing her leg against his. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed slowly, lingering, his breath scorching her. She felt the familiar pooling of desire in the pit of her stomach, and knew where the night was headed.

She decided to let it happen.

When the game ended, they left the arena still holding hands, Satoru refusing to let go, getting into the back seat of a cab. He was kissing her the minute the door was closed and he'd told the driver where to go, hands snaking around her, pulling her close.

"Did I behave well enough?" he whispered to her.

Utahime was leaning into him, her lips searching for his. "No. You badly misbehaved."

"Darn," Satoru muttered, his breath hot on her cheek. "I hate to tell you this but it's possible I might be about to misbehave again."

"Satoru."

"Hm?"

"We're both teachers. You know what happens when someone misbehaves."

Satoru pulled away slightly, eyes glittering despite the darkness of the cab, gaze boring into her. "What's that?" His voice was quiet, deep, vibrating through her.

Utahime clutched the front of his shirt, crumpling his collar, pulling him back to her. "They get punished."

Satoru's sharp inhale was cut off as Utahime covered his mouth with hers, their tongues meeting, Satoru grunting, his hands gripping her as tightly as she was gripping him. She wanted to merge with him, meld into him, completely forgetting they were in the back of a cab, a stranger sitting a few feet away.

They were both out of breath when the cab pulled up to Utahime's apartment building, Satoru tossing a wad of cash to the driver and practically carrying Utahime out of the car. His shirt became unbuttoned in the elevator, Utahime's hands roaming over his familiar hard abs, her desperate fingers unbuckling his belt.

They'd barely made it into her apartment before Satoru's pants fell down and he expertly stepped out of them, his mouth never losing connection with Utahime's. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing against him, pushing her pelvis into his, her core against his hardness.

He groaned into her mouth and Utahime found herself in the kitchen, Satoru setting her down onto the counter, nimble hands pulling her shirt off and then coming between them to unbutton her pants.

"We've never fucked in the kitchen," Satoru said, wrapping one arm around her to lift her, his other hand sliding off her pants and underwear. Her bare bottom and the backs of her thighs hit the cold counter and she gasped.

"Pretty sure we have." She undid her bra and tossed it aside, pulling Satoru close again, distinctly remembering a time when they'd had sex on the kitchen floor after she'd had a little too much sake.

"Not on the counter," he said, fingers brushing up and down her slit, Utahime's eyes fluttering closed at the contact. "Fuck, you're so wet." He reached down for her ankles, grasping them and bringing them up to place her feet on the edge of the counter, spreading her open. Then he stepped back to gaze at her, brilliant blue eyes half-lidded with lust raking up and down her form. "Uta, you're a whole fucking meal."

And he crouched down, his mouth going straight to Utahime's opening, his tongue plunging into her with no warning.

Utahime let out a moan like she'd never had, hand pressing the back of Satoru's head, hips pushing forward. She couldn't get enough, couldn't be parted from Satoru's exploring tongue, from the fingers that he then pushed into her.

He was devouring her, sucking the life out of her. She was on fire, limbs weak, fingers and toes curling marvelously.

But it wasn't enough. She needed more, she needed something to fill her, she needed something big , she needed—

"Your cock," she barely got out, her voice nothing more than a throaty moan.

"What about it?" Satoru asked, coming up for air, his fingers continuing to pleasure her.

"Want it."

Satoru was using three fingers, his thumb pressing down on her most sensitive spot. She squirmed, relishing in the sensation, but still—

"Need your cock."

Satoru stood, sliding his boxer briefs off, letting his considerable length stand free, Utahime's mouth practically watering at the sight of it. He stepped up to her, pulling her to the edge of the counter, grabbing hold of himself and pushing his cockhead against her clit.

"And here I thought I was being punished," Satoru murmured. "Looks like I'm about to be the one doing the punishing."

"If you don't hurry up you will be punished."

Satoru chuckled deeply. "Promises, promises."

Irritation flared within her. "Sator – fuck!"

He'd thrust into her, driving deep. And again. And again.

She wrapped her legs around him as he kissed her, and she could taste herself on his tongue, her labored breathing swallowed by his own gasps.

"God, Utahime, you feel like heaven every time. I don't know how you do it."

His pace was relentless, hips pounding into her, and it was only thanks to the tight grip he had on her waist that she didn't fall off the counter.

"Say my name again," Utahime moaned into his mouth. She wanted to hear it, needed to hear him, to know that she was the cause of his pleasure. Satoru moved his mouth to her ear, lips grazing her skin lightly as he continued to drive into her.

"Utahime," he whispered, and it was like he'd uttered a blessed prayer, each syllable woven with reverence.

"Utahime," he murmured again, and her body was ablaze, his lips trailing flames down her neck, one of his hands sliding between them, finding her perfect spot.

"Sing for me, Utahime," Satoru breathed once more, his fingers pressing onto her, and she exploded with a wail.

Satoru grunted as she clenched around him, riding wave after wave of gut-tightening pleasure. She could vaguely register that she was letting out keening cries that came from deep within her chest, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. Satoru kept pounding into her, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, his breathing hitching, until he pulled out of her and came into his hand, milky white spurts surging between his fingers, spattering her stomach and thighs.

Utahime pushed his hand out of the way and pumped him, squeezing every last drop from him as his chest heaved and he moaned, the sound turning into a weary chuckle.

"Fucking hell." He leaned in to kiss her slowly, letting them both catch their breath. It was quiet now, the rushing blood in Utahime's ears reduced, the only sound their hushed sighs, the low hum of the air conditioner switching on.

"Have we both been thoroughly punished?" Satoru asked.

Exhaustion was overtaking Utahime, her muscles feeling like jelly. "For now."

Satoru grinned lazily. "Until later, then." He grabbed a nearby kitchen towel, cleaning up the mess on Utahime's stomach and thighs, wiping his own hands, tossing the towel into the kitchen sink. When she slid off the counter, her legs wobbled feebly, and Satoru scooped her up before she could fall.

"Look how weak you are," he said amusedly. "I'll take you to bed, poor thing."

Once again, Utahime found herself giving in to him rather than fighting back. She was too tired to do anything, and he had been surprisingly nice to her this evening.

As he carried her through her apartment, a thought came to her.

"Suguru mentioned that you talk to him about certain sounds I make."

Satoru flashed her a guilty grin. "Can you blame me? You should hear yourself. You're not an award-winning music teacher for nothing. I nearly cream myself every time you speak."

Somehow it was possible to feel annoyed and flattered and powerful all at once. And as it would be useless to tell him not to talk to Suguru about her, she let this go, too.

"Always so crude," she muttered tiredly.

Satoru laid her on her bed and she rolled onto her side, not caring that he got into bed with her, spooning her from behind. She was halfway to unconsciousness, her body spent and satisfied.

"Did you enjoy your evening?" Satoru asked her quietly, unusually tender.

"Mhmm," she murmured, closing her eyes.

Satoru brushed her hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear, snuggling closer behind her. He enclosed both arms around her, sliding one beneath her, holding her to his chest. She felt him inhale, then let out the breath slowly, his long legs wrapping around her, trapping her like a body pillow, surrounding her with himself.

"Date me," he whispered, his voice melting over her, and she felt as if she'd sunk into his essence, every sense filled with Satoru.

Her response was quiet, breathy, on the verge of sleep.

"No."

Notes:

Thank you so much for the warm reception on the previous chapter! I hope to continue to please everyone!

Edit: I learned how to insert photos so I'll be posting my chapter art inside each update! Yay!

Next time: back to high school :3

Chapter 3: Here's To Goodbye

Summary:

A series of events in which teen Satoru is manipulative.

Notes:

I'm sorry this took so long, but please accept a whopping 8800 word chapter as an apology.

Chapter title from Here's To The Night by Eve 6

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

April 2005

The library was blessedly quiet, a welcome respite from the noisy hallways of the school. Hushed whispers were barely audible, the turning of book pages like the sound of a softly crackling fire.

Utahime's physics textbook was propped up against her lunchbox, and she was twenty minutes deep into re-reading about gravitational forces and electromagnetic fields. She had a free period before lunch, and while most of the other students used the time to goof off or leave the campus to grab food, she busied herself with extra study sessions. She could never be too prepared, especially when she was two points away from matching Satoru's current grade in their physics class. If she could score high enough on their next exam, she could even surpass him.

If only her highlighter would cooperate.

It skipped across the paper of her textbook, leaving dry streaks of fluorescent pink that did nothing to actually mark important information. Utahime shook it out, trying to encourage more ink to the tip, but it was well and truly dead. Rummaging through her pencil case, she searched for an extra one, knowing that there wasn't one and that the rest of her stash was safely at home.

A clatter startled her, and she watched as a fresh, bright blue highlighter rolled across the table and bumped into her elbow. She looked up, seeing none other than Satoru Gojo standing in front of her table, hands in his pockets, sunglasses on, white hair wild as usual, grinning his obnoxiously handsome grin.

"For the needy," he said, not bothering to keep his voice low.

Utahime narrowed her eyes, and her response to him was whispered, trying to set an example for how to behave in a library. "You just carry around extra highlighters?"

"Nah," Satoru said, sliding into an empty seat across from her. "Swiped it from the front desk. I saw you struggling from across the room."

Sure enough, a sticker on the highlighter read 'Jujutsu High'.

"I can't use stolen goods!" she hissed at him.

Satoru shrugged. "They have a whole jar of them right on the desk. Why have them out if they don't want them to be used?"

"They're for the librarian, not for you."

"Do you need the highlighter or not?" Satoru held out his hand, palm up. "If you don't want it, I'll take it for myself. Not that I need it," he added with a smirk.

"I…" Her dried-out highlighter sat lamely upon the table, not of any use to her. Satoru continued to smirk tauntingly at her, reminding her that she needed to surpass his arrogant ass. "Ugh. I'll just use it for this period and then you will return it."

Satoru's grin widened and he leaned back in his seat, arms behind his head, the picture of relaxation. "Sure," he said, not sounding like he had any intention of doing such a thing at all. He hummed a little, surveying the library, the table of her belongings, and Utahime herself.

"Why aren't you ditching school like the rest?" Utahime asked, annoyed that her studies were being interrupted.

"Don't have a car."

Utahime sometimes forgot that Satoru wasn't yet old enough to have a driver's license, let alone a car. "Oh. Right."

"Speaking of which," Satoru said, leaning towards her. "Suguru and I were wondering if we could bum a ride off you some time. There's a pool hall we want to hit up."

Utahime barely heard him as she tried to get back on task, re-highlighting the passage that she'd previously attempted with her pink highlighter. The blue mixed with the pink, making a pretty electric purple. "What do I get out of it?"

"You get to spend time in our incredibly fun company. And there's a karaoke place right next door."

"Karaoke, maybe. But the two of you, definitely no."

Satoru pouted. "Ah, come on. Shoko wants to come too and she always gets bored after a while. You could keep her company."

Utahime sighed. "I don't have time to be driving people all over the place."

"Pretty please?" Satoru begged, rapidly blinking his ridiculously gorgeous eyes at her.

"Are you trying to bat your eyelashes at me?"

"Is it working?"

"No. You look like a Furby."

He didn't, really, but Utahime had little to no personal insults to throw at him at any given time.

A loud shushing came from a few tables over, and Utahime pursed her lips guiltily. She'd forgotten that they were in the library. Satoru always seemed to do this to her – distract her and cause her to slip up in some way.

"See, Uta?" Satoru whispered. "The people need you to say yes, or I'm gonna keep making noise."

She sighed heavily again. "Oh, fine. But I'm only doing it for Shoko."

Satoru smiled. "Thanks, babe, you're a doll."

"I'm not your babe."

He just kept smiling, pulling her lunchbox towards himself, causing her textbook to whack onto the table loudly. He seemed unconcerned while Utahime looked quickly around and waved apologetically to the other students who had been disturbed again by the noise.

"Ever heard of privacy?" Utahime whispered as he opened her lunchbox and poked through it.

"Oh my god, yes, your mom made tonkatsu. Did she pack extra…?" Satoru dug into the lunchbox and pulled out a small container of extra pork cutlets that had indeed been labeled 'Satoru'. "Fuck yeah!"

Utahime cursed her mother for doing such things. It had been only one time that Satoru had visited her home to return her school sweater (and a pair of underwear) that she'd left at his house, and, to her horror, her mother had invited him to stay for dinner. Satoru had gleefully accepted, devouring the fresh, crispy tonkatsu that her mother had piled high onto his plate, delighted to feed such a healthy eater. Since then, every time her mother made tonkatsu, she packed an extra helping for Satoru, forcing Utahime to bring it to school no matter how much she protested.

"Thank her for me, will ya?" Satoru asked, cradling the container of tonkatsu as if it were a child. "Tell her I look forward to coming over for dinner again."

"That will never happen again," Utahime muttered, trying once again to get back to her reading.

There was silence for a moment as Satoru inspected the rest of Utahime's lunchbox, and she took the opportunity of his distraction to read another passage on gravitational forces. But the quiet was short-lived, and Satoru had sealed her lunchbox and was peering over to see what she was studying.

"Still letting gravity get you down, huh?" he asked, chuckling at his own joke. "I didn't even need to read those chapters to understand it all."

"We can't all be physics geniuses," Utahime grumbled, though it pained her to say it. Satoru really was a prodigy when it came to science, to the point that Utahime felt that he could be taking university-level classes with ease. Despite the fact that she hated how Satoru was better than her academically, she couldn't help being in awe of his intelligence. From a purely objective standpoint, of course. She voiced a thought that she'd been having for a while. "Why haven't you skipped a couple grades? You're already in most of the upper class subjects."

Satoru shrugged. "My parents want me to. The school wants it too. But I like being where I am. Besides, I couldn't leave Suguru and Shoko. They'd pine after me."

"Don't you want to live up to your full potential though?"

Satoru waved a hand dismissively. "There's time for that later. I don't want to be robbed of my youth." He picked up her dead highlighter and twirled it in his long fingers. "The only thing that could make me skip grades is you. Imagine if we had all of our classes together."

"I'd rather not," Utahime said firmly. "Stay where you are, underclassman. Don't realize your full potential, for my own sanity's sake."

"Fine by me. Though the next two years are going to be pretty dull without you."

"I'm sure you'll survive."

"Yeah, but it's gonna suck to get the highest score on an exam and not be able to see your cute angry face."

"Tch," Utahime scoffed, glaring at him.

Satoru rested his chin in his hand, grinning. "Yeah, that one. Cute." He kept smiling at her for another moment, and then spoke again. "While we're on the topic, if I score better than you on the next exam, are we gonna… you know?"

Utahime's ears grew hot, and she turned her attention to straightening her pile of notes. "That was a one-time thing."

"You keep saying that, and it's been like five times already. Just admit that you can't get enough of me." Satoru's grin was impish, smug.

"I can't help it if you're annoyingly insistent."

"I do believe it was you who initiated the last two times. Not that I'm complaining."

He was right, of course. The last time had been because of a physics pop quiz, and the time before that had been their calculus midterm exam. Both of which he'd just surpassed Utahime with a couple of extra points.

"I just need to keep acing all my exams and papers," he said. "You're really keeping my grades up, Uta. Thanks for that."

Satoru was naturally gifted, but Utahime was struck with the idea that maybe he did try hard after he'd figured out that Utahime basically rewarded him (in his eyes) for scoring better than her. It was essentially a win-win situation for him if he did well in class. She began to have serious second thoughts about her decisions.

"Whatever," Utahime muttered. It was too late to go back on anything now. Besides, she mostly enjoyed the time she spent with Satoru in his bedroom. If anything, it was a good stress reliever from all the studying.

"So whaddya think? Maybe I can finally get you to—"

A rubber band pinged Satoru on the temple, causing him to jolt up in surprise, his knees banging the underside of the table loudly.

"Bullseye," said a soft and amused voice.

Suguru Geto emerged from behind a bookshelf, hand in the shape of a finger gun, and he blew the tip of his finger as if he were blowing away gun smoke.

"Dude, what the hell?" Satoru said loudly, rubbing his temple, and Utahime urgently shushed him. The librarian was now looking over at their table in addition to the students who had been disturbed.

"Hey, Utahime," Suguru said in his soft voice, and he took a seat next to Satoru, who punched him on the shoulder. Suguru grabbed Satoru's retreating arm and yanked him forward, using his other hand to flick Satoru hard on the forehead.

A silent battle ensued while Utahime watched, nonplussed. Why they couldn't have just spoken to each other like normal people was beyond her.

When they'd finished their power struggle, Suguru finally subduing Satoru by grabbing both his wrists and holding them together, he turned to Utahime again.

"Sorry you had to witness that," Suguru apologized in a whisper. "He needs to be disciplined sometimes."

Utahime couldn't help smiling at Satoru's misfortune. "I don't mind at all. In fact, feel free to carry on. Just do it quietly."

"Hey!" Satoru hissed at her. "Don't encourage him."

"No need," Suguru said to Utahime. "I'm taking him with me. Shoko and I need him."

"For what?" Satoru whined. "I'm busy studying with Utahime."

"Shut up, no you're not," Suguru said. "We're doing that egg drop experiment thing and we need you to show us how you did it."

"Are you serious? You know how to do it! You helped me do mine—"

"Come on," Suguru interrupted, standing and pulling Satoru up by his wrists. "Let Utahime study in peace."

"Wait, my tonkatsu!" Satoru looked back desperately at the container while Suguru hauled him out of his chair.

Suguru transferred Satoru's wrists to one hand, picking up the tonkatsu container with the other. He smiled at Utahime pleasantly and then pulled Satoru away, the two boys bickering quietly with each other as they went.

Utahime sighed with relief that there would be no more attention drawn to her table. But she had to admit that the boys had been an amusing distraction, and she felt a little empty without them. The academic life was a lonely one, she supposed.

She thought back to what Satoru had been about to say before he'd been interrupted by Suguru.

Maybe I can finally get you to…

Again, Utahime's ears grew warm. She and Satoru had had sex several times now, and while it felt good and she wanted to keep doing it, she was starting to think it was a myth that women could have, as Satoru liked to call it, "the big O". She knew that it probably wasn't a myth, but she had yet to experience it, and Satoru was determined to be the one to do it.

Quickly, Utahime put those thoughts aside. It would not help to get caught up thinking about such things when she was supposed to be studying. Doing well in school was much more important than that.

When it was nearly time for lunch, Utahime packed up her things, remembering that she was going to eat with Mei Mei — the class Vice President, with whom she was planning a graduation party. She picked up the blue highlighter, looking warily at the front desk. The librarian was back in her seat, and Utahime did not want to be the one to return the highlighter and explain that it hadn't been her who'd stolen it. She knew that borrowing a highlighter was not such a terrible crime, and the librarian likely wouldn't care, but her record was unblemished and she wanted to keep it that way. So she shoved it into her pen case, hoping it was true what Satoru had said about there being a whole jar of them. She'd make him return it later.

As she walked across campus, she spotted Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko on a patch of grass, Suguru and Shoko taking turns throwing something at Satoru, all of them laughing hysterically. They'd made their egg drop contraption and it seemed to be indestructible. Shoko hurled the contraption at Satoru again, catching him in the back and causing him to yelp and then laugh as it bounced off, egg unharmed.

Utahime smiled, biting her lip to keep from laughing out loud. She almost wished she could join them just so that she, too, could launch things at Satoru.

May 2005

Utahime ended up acing her physics exam, Satoru looking crestfallen as he peeked at her score. He lost a couple of points for a mislabeled graph, a fact that Utahime gleefully pointed out to him. There would be no need to show him who was the superior one this time.

However, feeling triumphant and magnanimous, she made out with Satoru after school, allowing him to push his hands under her bra, enjoying the sound of his desperate breathing, becoming nearly drunk with power over him. She almost let him have her right there, in the darkness of the empty classroom, hidden behind some large rolling whiteboards. But school was no place for such things.

Utahime continued to do well in all her classes, continued to have semi-regular makeouts with Satoru, but visited his home only once for something a little more, despite the fact that he hadn't surpassed her in an exam. He'd practically begged her for it one afternoon, looking despondent with his hair frazzled and sunglasses sliding down his nose, saying it had been too long, that his track practices had been stressing him out. She doubted that his track practice had given him any kind of strife (she'd watched him handily win every race he ran, smirking all the while), but she'd savored the beseeching look in his eyes, enjoyed that she was the one he needed. So she'd given in, and she even stayed at his house for a little while afterwards, taking a nap with Satoru, his face snuggled into her neck, an arm and a leg thrown over her as they slept.

As the weeks went by and spring began to flirt with summer, the nearing of the school year's end signaled a momentous event: prom.

An ungodly amount of posters went up advertising the dance, assaulting Utahime's eyes with glitter and bright poster paint down every hallway. The theme this year was "Midnight Masquerade" and while Utahime was intrigued by it, she was also acutely aware that the prom was scheduled right during essential exam prep weeks.

"What genius planned this out," she'd muttered as she looked at her schedule, deciding that she simply had no time to waste on something like the prom. She experienced a twinge of regret, knowing that prom was a special event for most teens, but she also knew that she'd kick herself for even one night of missed studying.

However, her decision not to attend didn't stop other students from inviting her, asking her to be their date.

The first time it happened was just before she entered her calculus classroom. She turned down the boy right at the door, surprised that he had asked her in such a public place. She took her seat afterwards, already having forgotten the encounter, thinking about her homework. Satoru was sitting in the seat next to her, and Suguru, who wasn't in their class but who liked to hang out in their classroom until the last minute, was sitting on Satoru's desk, smiling slightly. Satoru looked disgruntled, pouting around the lollipop stick in his mouth.

"So, Utahime," Suguru said, turning his pleasant smile to her. "You got a date to the prom?"

"No," Satoru said quickly before Utahime could answer. "Didn't you hear? She just turned that fudge-nugget down."

Utahime frowned at Satoru. "That's rude. He's not a… whatever you said. And why are you eavesdropping?" she said as Suguru sniggered.

"You did turn him down though. And he is." Satoru continued to look grumpy while Suguru looked as if he were thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Are you going to prom?" Utahime asked, directing the question to both boys.

"We can't go," Suguru said. "We're too young. An upperclassman has to invite us."

"Ah, right," Utahime said, unloading her books from her bag. She was getting tired of hearing about the prom.

"So if you don't have a date yet, can I be your date?" Suguru asked.

Satoru immediately punched him in the knee, saying, "Fuck off, jackass," while Suguru laughed and lightly kicked him in the stomach.

Utahime sighed, leaning away to avoid their scuffle. "I'm not going. It's bad timing for exam prep."

"You're not going? Like, at all?" Satoru's face took on a calculating expression, frowning a little in thought. A glimmer in his eyes signaled some kind of decision made, his mouth then curving slightly in a mischievous smile. "Yeah, you wouldn't want to screw up your finals. Those universities might rescind their offers, and you'll have to repeat senior year. Better stay home and cram."

Utahime studied him, trying to figure out what type of scheming was going on in his brain, but he just looked back at her, smiling benignly, almost tauntingly. It was true that she didn't want to fail her final exams, but he could be up to something. Or he could simply be goading her, reminding her that she still needed to compete with him.

The bell rang for class to start and Suguru gave a chuckle, sliding off Satoru's desk. "Moron," he said, thumping Satoru lightly on the shoulder. "See you at lunch."

Satoru fell silent after Suguru left, absentmindedly reaching into his pocket and pulling out the blue highlighter he'd stolen from the library. Utahime had given it back to him weeks ago, telling him to return it, but of course, he never had. Instead, he'd used it to draw stupid things onto the back of her hand every day — smiley faces, peace signs, sometimes a penis that Utahime would have to hide until she could rush to the bathroom and wash it off.

He flipped the highlighter up into the air a couple times and then grabbed Utahime's hand silently. She let him, knowing it would be better than to put up a struggle. He was smirking when he finished the drawing: a heart with a big 'S' in the middle.

"Aww," Utahime whispered. "How'd you know I have a crush on Suguru?"

The smirk vanished as Satoru realized his mistake. "No. That stands for 'Satoru'." He searched through his pockets, finding a new pen — a permanent marker.

"Don't you dare." Utahime hid her hand, tucking it away from Satoru's reach, but he wrestled it back, drawing again, the pungent scent of the permanent marker clouding around them. When she got her hand back, Satoru's name was scribbled in dark black within the heart.

"You're the worst," Utahime hissed.

Satoru simply smiled, satisfied with his work. "Just show that to any other chuckleheads who try to ask you to prom. Then you don't have to make up some lame excuse."

Funnily enough, it actually worked. Utahime was walking to her car after school when a boy stopped her, and she could tell from the expression on his face what he was about to ask her. She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear, preparing to let him down. But he'd looked at her hand as she did so, and then quickly said, "Uh, never mind," and hurried away. Confused at first, Utahime looked at her hand, wondering what he'd seen. Satoru's name glared back at her.

Ah, right.

She couldn't be mad. Satoru had indeed saved her the trouble of turning someone down. She just hoped that people didn't believe that she was actually interested in him or that they were an item.

That night, as Utahime sat at her laptop typing up an essay, the remnants of Satoru's name still lingering on her hand, her instant messenger kept going off, its constant pinging disturbing her train of thought. Without checking, she knew that it was Satoru — she'd given him a unique alert sound so that she knew when to ignore it. After the fifth ping, she finally checked to see what he wanted.

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: hey

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: utahime

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: uta

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: hey

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: utaaaaahiiiimeeeeee

soprano_princess: what

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: hi

soprano_princess: hi

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: what are you doinggg ^^

soprano_princess: homework, leave me alone

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: i gotta question

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: u there?

soprano_princess: just ask

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: will you go to prom with me

soprano_princess: are you for real? ugh go away

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: UTAAAA i'm kidding

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: ut

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: ut h

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: utahime

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: are you really not going to prom

soprano_princess: no i'm not.

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: kk

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: cuz u kno u are still 6 points behind me in physics

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: just wanna make sure u study hard

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: otherwise

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: 8=====D

soprano_princess: oh my god, please go away

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: why so grumpy :(

soprano_princess: i'm on my period

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: o shit we should have sexx

gOjO_mOjO_jOjO: u can't get pregnant

soprano_princess: goodbye.

Utahime logged out and finished her essay, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

June 2005

It was a Saturday night, and like most Saturday nights, Utahime was going to dig into some studying. However, this Saturday night was different, because she was cramming for her finals that were to take place in the coming weeks, and she was also aware that this was the night of prom. Again, she was a little sad that she was missing out, but she wanted to finish out the school year strong, and this was the only way to do it.

The doorbell rang just as Utahime was walking to her room to begin her studies, carrying a cup of steaming jasmine tea. She made a detour to the front door, opening it and then stopping dead and staring at the visitor.

"Buenas noches, mamacita."

It was Satoru. He was dressed in a flowing, long-sleeved black shirt, a criss-crossed string at the chest, tight black pants, and shiny leather boots. A black strip of fabric covered his eyes in some sort of mask that pushed back his silky white hair, making it stand up around his head. He was grinning, and the whole effect was rather fetching, though Utahime really had no idea what was going on.

"What the hell am I looking at," Utahime said.

"It is I, Zorro, your masquerade partner," Satoru said, bowing with a flourish of his hands.

Utahime stared at him. "Uh… I'm pretty sure Zorro's mask had eye holes. And doesn't he have a hat?"

"It was the best I could do," Satoru said, adjusting the mask. "But I think it looks better."

"Can you even see?"

"Yeah, the fabric is thin. Anyway, let's go!" He held out his hand to her.

Utahime didn't move. "I'm not going to prom."

"Who said we're going to prom?"

Shouting came from behind Satoru, and Utahime peered around him. A car was parked on the street, Suguru and Shoko hanging out of the windows and beckoning to her.

"Utahime!" Shoko called, and she pulled out an extravagant white dress, waving it. "You're going to be Elena De la Vega!"

"We got you a dress," Satoru said, as if that explained anything.

"What the hell is happening right now?" Utahime stared between Satoru and his two friends, who she now saw were also dressed in fancy clothing. "If you're not going to prom, then what is all this?" She gestured to Satoru's outfit.

"Since we three aren't old enough, we're having our own Masquerade."

"Uh…" Utahime kept staring at him, at a complete loss. "And where are you going?"

"Just around town. Anyplace, really. Wherever our hearts fancy. So come on!"

"I'm… I've got studying to do…" she said, slowly backing away and inching the door shut.

"We also kind of need you to drive," Satoru said with a guilty grin.

Utahime paused. "Me?"

"Well, none of us have our license yet."

"Then… how did you get that car here?"

"I sort of… illegally drove it here. That's my dad's car, but my parents are out of town at the moment so I took it."

"You what?"

"Relax, he won't find out. And if he does he won't care. Not if Miss Responsible is driving, anyway."

"Satoru, what the hell?"

"And," Satoru continued, his grin growing ever larger. "You did promise you'd give us a ride to the pool hall. So I'm cashing in on that promise. Right now." He looked absolutely triumphant.

Utahime wanted to be indignant, to scold Satoru for trapping her into this, to throw her cup of tea at him, but she was actually impressed that he'd done it so cleverly. Ensuring that she wouldn't be going to prom; banking on her sense of responsibility; asking her to fulfill a promise she'd made. He was a manipulative little bastard.

She opened her mouth to try and protest, but a voice called out from behind her.

"Satoru, is that you?"

Utahime clenched her teeth as her mother came up next to her. She was doomed. This was the nail in the coffin. Her mother would force her to go with Satoru, to have a night out instead of shutting herself in to study. This wouldn't have happened with anyone else – her mother was almost as adamant about academics as she was herself, but Satoru had thoroughly charmed her in the single night that he'd eaten her tonkatsu.

"Hello, Mrs. Iori!" Satoru said cheerfully. "Just picking up Utahime. She has generously offered to drive us tonight."

"That was very nice of you," her mother said to her. "Why aren't you dressed? Satoru looks so handsome and this is what you're wearing?"

Satoru was smiling so widely that his face was in danger of splitting in half. Utahime inhaled deeply, steadying herself, and then silently, resignedly, walked away to gather her things.

Fifteen minutes later, Utahime was sitting in the driver's seat of Satoru's father's car, wearing the poofy white dress while Shoko tied her hair back with a white ribbon. Utahime had refused to wear the glittery masquerade mask that Satoru had brought her, saying that it would obscure her vision while driving. Suguru had snatched up the mask, putting it on his own face, the glitter matching the sparkly black three-piece suit that he was wearing.

The car was pristine with rich leather seats and it even smelled expensive — Utahime was afraid to touch anything, holding the steering wheel delicately, worried that her fingerprints would be found all over it if anything were to happen. The other three didn't seem to care at all, turning up the radio and blasting music out of the open windows. Shoko made the boys sit in the back to keep their mischief contained, though they kept reaching up to change the song and Utahime and Shoko would slap their hands away when it was a song they liked.

Their first stop was the pool hall, just as Satoru and Suguru had wished. Utahime felt a little ridiculous walking into the place dressed as they were, and she clung to Shoko, finding courage in that they were both wearing fancy dresses, Shoko's eyelids covered in shimmery shadow.

The boys played a couple rounds of pool with each other, and then they started challenging the old men in the hall, even going as far as betting money. Utahime and Shoko sat in a far corner and tried to look inconspicuous as Satoru and Suguru easily won against the old men, stuffing wads of their cash winnings into their pockets. When it started to look like tensions were rising, Utahime and Shoko pulled the boys away, dragging them to the karaoke rooms next door.

It was here that Utahime started to have fun. Being a very good singer, karaoke was one of her favorite hobbies, and she was happy to show off a little. The others had never had the opportunity to hear her sing, and when she belted out the first notes of her chosen song, they stared, Satoru's mouth dropping open, eyes wide with wonder. Utahime allowed herself to feel smug, to bask in their awe.

That is, until Satoru chose a duet and demanded that she sing with him, and she discovered that he, too, was a very good singer. At first, she was upset that there was yet another thing that he was good at, but as they sang, Utahime genuinely began to delight in it. She'd never had a singing partner like Satoru, their voices complementing each other perfectly, Suguru and Shoko swaying in the background. When the song finished, Utahime insisted on another, and Satoru was only too happy to oblige.

Hours later, her throat sore from singing and laughing, Utahime drove them to a convenience store where they stocked up on snacks and junk food, eating some in the parking lot, Satoru and Suguru having an impromptu sword fight with some Red Vines.

Then they all piled back into the car and drove to Satoru's house, where they congregated in the backyard to feast on the rest of their snacks. Suguru and Shoko went inside to find something to drink while Satoru flipped on the lights to the enormous pool, setting the water aglow. He and Utahime stood near the deep end, watching a light breeze ripple across the surface of the water. The night was warm with the impending summer, crickets chirping in the nearby bushes, dim stars glittering above.

"We should make out in the pool," Satoru said bluntly.

Utahime laughed. "What is this, a teen movie? That's so cheesy."

"So what? It would be hot."

"I don't have a swim suit."

"You don't need one. Let's skinny dip."

Utahime just laughed again, this time a little incredulously.

"Okay then, I'll throw you in fully clothed," Satoru said, his characteristic grin forming.

"You will not."

"As if you could stop me." He lunged and grabbed her tightly, lifting her and lugging her struggling body towards the pool.

"Hey! Satoru! Put me down!" Her arms were trapped against her sides and she tried to break free, digging her fingers into Satoru's ribs. He gave a shout of laughter, squirming at her touch, and Utahime realized that he was ticklish . How had she never known this, all the times they'd spent together fully naked, exploring each other's bodies? She dug her fingers into him again and he wriggled, laughing loudly, and she kept it up until he set her down, backing away.

"Okay, okay," he chortled. "I'm just playin', Uta."

Utahime straightened her fancy dress and fixed the bow in her hair while Satoru watched her, smiling, his eyes still covered with his black mask. "I can't believe you manipulated me into doing all this," she said.

"Are you having such a terrible time?"

"Well… no."

"Are you having a good time?"

"I…" Utahime considered it for a moment. "I suppose I am."

"Good," Satoru said, stretching his arms over his head. "I know I can be pretty lousy. But this was meant to be fun. A night to remember, or whatever."

"Cheesy."

He grinned. "Yeah."

They smiled at each other, and Utahime thought for one second that perhaps Satoru wasn't as much of an annoyance as he made himself out to be, that perhaps he did have some good qualities about him. But then his smile widened a millimeter. His hands shot out and seized her around the middle and Utahime screamed "NO!" as he launched them into the pool.

The water was cool, pleasant even, as it closed over Utahime's head and bubbles frothed around them as she struggled in the flowing fabric of her dress. Satoru was holding her tightly and he pulled her close, the pool lights illuminating the bubbles so that they shone like stars around them. And then he was kissing her, and she was surprised by how nice it felt, the contrast of his warm lips and the cooler water. She closed her eyes, telling herself it was to shut out the chlorine, but really, it was because she liked the feel of him and wanted to memorize it, to immortalize this one second. He'd go back to being his annoying self when they resurfaced, and she'd need to be indignant towards him, but right now he was silent, and warm, and sweet.

Then Satoru pulled away and towed them both to the surface of the water, Utahime gasping as she broke into the air.

"You are so corny!" she said as she pushed him away and swam to the edge of the pool, the skirts of her dress dragging and making it very difficult.

Satoru was laughing, pulling off his eye mask, shaking the water out of his hair. "Ahh, what a perfect night for a swim," he said, floating onto his back, his clothes clinging to him.

Shoko and Suguru emerged from the house, Shoko carrying a couple of towels.

"Thought we heard a splash," Shoko said, helping Utahime out of the pool and wrapping her with a towel.

"I can help you get out of your wet clothes, Utahime," Suguru said, laughing as he received an immediate punch to the ribs from Shoko while Satoru shouted angrily and unintelligibly from across the pool.

"Come on, let's get you changed," Shoko said to Utahime.

In Satoru's room, Shoko helped peel off the sopping wet dress, handing Utahime her extra clothes. The only problem was that Utahime didn't have an extra pair of underwear — she'd only brought a shirt and pants on the off chance that she'd want to change out of the fancy dress. Shoko poked around Satoru's room, looking into his dresser drawers.

"You sure you didn't leave a pair of underwear here at some point?" Shoko asked Utahime.

"Shoko!" Utahime's cheeks burned, not just at the insinuation that Shoko knew what Utahime and Satoru had done together, but also because Utahime had in fact left a pair of her underwear in his room once.

"Here, just use Satoru's. I won't tell him." Shoko tossed Utahime a pair of Satoru's boxer briefs.

Utahime hesitated, but she really had no choice but to put them on, otherwise she'd have to go commando. His underwear was actually pretty comfortable and soft, even if they were a little big on her.

"If Satoru finds out, he'll never let me live this down," Utahime muttered. She vowed never to tell him, and prayed that he wouldn't notice that a pair of his underwear was missing until she could return it surreptitiously.

When Utahime decided that it was time to go home, Satoru tried to convince her to stay the night, offering his bed to her (with him in it, of course). Suguru would be staying over as well, but Utahime knew her mother would never allow her to spend the night at a boy's house (and neither did Utahime want to), and thus she and Shoko took the train home. Utahime invited Shoko to come and sleep over at her house so that she wouldn't have to stay with the boys or catch the train home alone at such a late hour, and she happily accepted.

The train's gentle rocking lulled Utahime into a satisfied sleepiness, and she and Shoko rested their heads against each other in companionable quiet while Shoko fiddled with an unlit cigarette that she'd bummed off one of the old men in the pool hall.

"Probably not a good idea to start those," Utahime said.

"Probably," Shoko replied. "Just curious about them."

"Hey. Mei and I are having a graduation party in a couple of weeks. It'll be at her parents' house since it's big enough to host a lot of people. Do you want to come?"

Shoko chuckled. "Am I allowed? An underclassman?"

"Of course you are, I'm inviting you."

Shoko patted Utahime's hand. "Then I'll come."

"Good," Utahime said. "You deserve a night away from those degenerates."

Shoko laughed. "They're trash. Though Suguru isn't so bad when he's not with Satoru."

"If you say so." Utahime yawned, closing her eyes, letting the train's movement soothe her all the way home.

June 2005

"Congratulations, Miss Graduate," Satoru said, holding up his soda can to Utahime, the liquid inside sloshing around.

They were at Mei Mei's massive mansion, standing on one of the second floor balconies which overlooked the backyard and offered views of the glittering city beyond. The graduation party was in full swing, groups of people mingling either inside the house or outside in the expansive backyard, decorated with strings of light and colorful streamers.

Hours earlier, graduation had taken place, Utahime donning her cap and gown, giving the commencement speech as valedictorian. She'd happily displayed her diploma when she'd gotten home, relieved that the school year and her high school career were finally over, and then made her way to Mei Mei's house, picking up Shoko along the way.

"Thank you," Utahime said, eyeing Satoru. He was actually dressed fairly nicely, wearing a crisply ironed button-down shirt, his hair slightly less messy than usual. His burgundy shirt matched the dark red and silky a-line dress that she'd bought just for this party, almost as if they'd planned it. "How did you even know about this party? I'm pretty sure I only told Shoko."

"Mei Mei invited me and Suguru. I think she knows that you and I are… shall we say, close?"

"Ugh. Of course." Utahime shook her head slightly, trying not to let her embarrassment show. "Hey, have you seen Shoko? She disappeared a while ago."

"Oh, uh," Satoru glanced around at the crowd. "I saw her with Suguru. Probably went for a smoke with him."

Right on cue, Suguru sauntered through the room, a soda in his hand, cheeks flushed and his normally neat hair slightly disheveled. He caught Satoru's eye and gave him a wink and a shaka, which made Satoru snort.

"What's he up to?" Utahime asked as Suguru went to join the crowd in the backyard.

"Nothing. He just… it's nothing."

Shoko appeared a minute later, smiling and waving at Utahime as she followed Suguru outside.

"See?" Satoru said. "Shoko's fine."

"Hmm." Utahime would have to check in with her later to make sure she actually was fine.

"So you're valedictorian, huh?" Satoru said, leaning on the balcony railing alongside her. "Congrats."

"Thanks."

"It's a good thing we're not in the same grade, otherwise you'd have to settle for salutatorian."

Utahime glared at him. "Shut up. I would have beaten you."

"You sure about that?"

"Absolutely." But she couldn't say it with full confidence.

"If you hadn't, though, you might have been obligated to have sex with me for the rest of your life."

Utahime's stomach clenched. The thought of it actually didn't sound so bad. Satoru had continually gotten better at sex (as had she), and she could only imagine how good he'd be in a few years. But the thought of losing out on something like valedictorian to him was unbearable.

She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned widely down at her, eyes like blue galaxies, sparkling and mischievous.

Utahime inwardly, disdainfully, admired how handsome he was. She watched his smile, realizing that this could be one of the last times she saw him. And while her first reaction was to be pleased, to know that she'd finally be rid of his annoying presence, she felt a surprising touch of sadness. In a couple months' time she'd be leaving for college and would be busying herself with her studies, alone in a new city. The reality of it finally punched her in the gut.

"Come here," she said, grabbing Satoru's hand and pulling him away from the balcony.

"Where are we off to?" Satoru asked. "The others—"

"They won't miss us. I need… I need…"

Utahime didn't finish her thought, trailing off, dragging Satoru behind her as she wandered through the mansion, opening doors to different rooms. She stuck her head inside each one until she found one she liked, pulling Satoru inside, closing the door and locking it.

It was a bedroom that faced out towards the city, huge floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling lights. She led Satoru to the bed — enormous and king-sized.

"My, my, Utahime," Satoru said, full of mock astonishment. "Feeling brazen, are we?"

"What, you gonna chicken out? Don't want to sully Mei Mei's beautiful home?"

"You think I'd care? Suguru already–"

Utahime tackled him, kissing him feverishly, and Satoru laughed through the kiss as they fell onto the bed. She climbed on top of him and started unbuttoning his shirt. "Are you gonna help or not?"

Satoru snickered. "I dunno. I like it when you get all worked up." But he helped Utahime unbutton the rest of his shirt, then helped her unzip her dress and slide it off. He ceased talking for a moment while he let his hands roam over her body, squeezing her thighs and pulling her more firmly onto the hard bulge in his pants.

"Hurry up," Utahime murmured, grinding down onto him.

Satoru undid his pants, so much more confident now than he had been during their first time. He shimmied them down, kicking them off and then he tried to get on top of Utahime.

"No," Utahime said, pushing him onto his back. "I want to ride you."

Satoru could barely contain his excitement, a giggle escaping his lips. Utahime hadn't even taken off her underwear or bra, pulling her underwear to the side, rubbing herself against Satoru's bare cock.

"Condom?" Satoru asked.

"I don't have one. Do you?"

"No. I didn't think we'd be—"

"Just don't come inside me," Utahime interrupted impatiently.

"'Kay," Satoru said, voice hushed, looking like he couldn't believe his luck — they'd never had sex without a condom before.

Utahime lined him up and then lowered herself onto him, trying to take it slow, but the need for him was so great that she couldn't help sinking right down onto him fully. She was used to his size by now, and nothing hurt anymore as it had their first time. But without a condom, it felt… different.

"Whoa," Satoru uttered, voicing her feelings.

It was difficult to describe exactly what the difference was — something about the way their skin slid together. He felt warmer, or smoother, or maybe it was just the knowledge that there was no barrier separating them, flesh to flesh, silk against silk.

"That's intense," Satoru groaned.

"In a good way?" Utahime asked, grinding slowly.

"Always in a good way, babe."

"I'm not your babe."

He smiled. "Oh, but you are." He gripped her hips tightly and pushed into her firmly. "Fuck, I never wanna use a condom again."

Utahime rocked on top of him, swirling her hips, wanting to feel him within every part of herself. Satoru let her take charge, eyes roaming over her, their bodies dimly lit by the glow from the distant city and the strings of lights outside. She worked up a mild sweat, her hands gripping his chest, sliding down to caress his abs, letting herself admire his toned body. Utahime didn't know what college boys would be like, but she did know that Satoru was exceptionally handsome, and this may be her last opportunity to bear witness to that.

Satoru snaked a hand between them, his fingers exploring the place where they were connected. "I love feeling myself slide into you," he murmured, pushing against a particularly sensitive area that made her squeak breathily.

At that, Satoru seemed to have enough of not being in control. He flipped them around, laying Utahime on her back, intertwining their hands above her head. Keeping up a steady rhythm, not rushing but not going too slow, he pressed his whole body sinuously against Utahime's with every deliberate thrust. Utahime reveled in the sensations, continually kissing Satoru wherever she could reach. His lips, his jaw, his neck, back to his mouth. She arched her back slightly, enjoying the new angle, gasping a little as Satoru adjusted to her, pushing even deeper.

A tingling sensation started low in her belly, so slight that it was almost imperceptible. But it grew, spreading through her core, swirling up into chest, her limbs, her fingers and toes.

"Satoru," she whispered, and he kissed the corner of her mouth, up her jaw to the space below her ear.

"Hm?"

The tingling was still growing, Satoru's thrusts spreading it out, causing ripples through her body. His lips touched her neck, his breath coasting across her skin, the fresh, soft scent of his cologne wafting over her.

"I… I think…" But she couldn't think, could only feel, could only move her body against Satoru's, could only give in to instinct as she wrapped a leg around him. "Keep going," she breathed, somehow understanding. "Right there."

Their bodies melded together, and as Satoru's lips found hers again, and as his hips pressed forward and ground into her again right there, she tipped over the edge.

It was like lightning, like static, like her body has become pure energy. Like every pinpoint of light in the world had converged into her being at once, and at the same time she was expelling wave after wave of ecstasy.

She didn't know where she was, couldn't do anything except gasp for air, clutching Satoru desperately, her fingers digging into his back, twisting into his hair, pushing her pelvis upwards to receive more, more, more. And Satoru gave it to her, moving against her and within her in that same torturous, delicious fashion.

"Oh god," Utahime whimpered when her head finally started to clear, when she could open her eyes and see Satoru's dark gaze upon her, hungry and beautiful. "I… I think I just…"

"Yeah. You did," Satoru said, still pumping slowly in and out of her. "I felt it."

"You felt it?"

"Mhmm." He pushed deeply, pressing hard into her. "Squeezed my dick pretty good."

The knowledge that he could feel it when she climaxed was both mortifying and arousing. He might have seen it in her expression, because he said, "Don't be embarrassed. That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

As she looked into his face, his eyes rounded with intensity as he looked back at her, she felt an immense affection that she'd never felt before. She wanted to stare into his face forever, wanted to have him look at her like this always, to be lost in him. Perhaps it was just the effects of the orgasm, but she never thought she'd feel such a thing towards Satoru whatsoever, under any circumstance.

She pushed her hips upwards again, encouraging him to keep going, and he obliged, speeding up a little, his skin slapping against hers quietly, breaths synchronized, until—

"Uta, I'm gonna…" He kept thrusting, eyebrows furrowed, mouth hanging slightly open as he panted. "Where am I gonna…" Satoru's eyes darted everywhere; there were no tissues in the room, and he looked slightly panicked as he eyed the expensive-looking duvet.

"Here," Utahime said, sliding out from under him and then pushing him back to sit on his haunches. She leaned forward and took his cock into her mouth, hand wrapping around the base of his shaft. Satoru's eyes widened and then squeezed shut as Utahime bobbed her head on him and he groaned.

"Shit," he whispered tightly.

Utahime had only done this once before, when Satoru had insisted and she'd tried it, unsure of what she was doing, unsure that she even liked it at all. She'd stopped quickly, but Satoru had seemed to really enjoy it, just as he did now.

His hand gently gripped the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, and in a few short moments, he let out a strained moan, his body convulsing, Utahime's mouth filling with a warm saltiness.

It was a lot – much more than she had expected, and when Satoru finally stopped trembling beneath her, she pulled off of him, careful not to let anything drip onto the bed. And though it was difficult, and her throat did not want to open itself to take in Satoru's load, she swallowed.

"Gone," she said, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue.

Satoru stared at her, chest heaving, silence permeating the room for a long moment. "Uta, I think you just made me fall in love with you," Satoru panted. "Between this and seeing you clima–"

"Shut up, idiot," Utahime said, wiping her mouth, desperately needing some water. "You're not in love, you're just horny."

He paused for a second longer and then snickered. "Maybe."

They clothed themselves again, and as Utahime watched Satoru re-buttoning his shirt, his hair falling into his eyes, she was struck by a pang of that sentiment from before, of affection, even fondness. He glanced up at her, seeing her staring, and smiled crookedly, winking at her, and then the feeling was gone. She shook it off, smoothing down her dress, saying to him, "Let me leave first and you can follow in a minute. So that people don't get suspicious."

"Ashamed of me, huh?" Satoru asked, though as usual he didn't sound hurt whatsoever.

"Just do it, okay?"

"Fine, fine."

She walked to the door, unlocking it, a hand on the doorknob.

"Hey, Uta," Satoru said, and she turned around. "When you're at college, don't cry too much when you miss me." He was smiling his signature playful grin.

She huffed and shook her head, smiling a little. "Right. I'll try my best."

September 2005

Utahime entered her new apartment, dropping her heavy bags onto the floor, inhaling deeply. She was excited, nervous, and even a little homesick already. After having a relaxing and happy summer, hanging out with her friends and spending time with her family, her first semester of college was about to begin.

She'd said her goodbyes, hugged everyone she could (yes, even Satoru, when she'd seen him for the last time after driving him and Suguru to the pool hall again), and packed all her favorite outfits. The train ride was melancholy, bittersweet, and she had shed a few tears even though she knew that everyone was only an hour or two away.

Now, standing in the entryway to the place she'd be living for the next few months, all alone, a few more tears squeezed out.

Her pocket buzzed suddenly — an incoming call. Pulling out her phone, Satoru's name flashed on the screen. The sight of it sent a little comfort through her.

"What," she said by way of answering.

"U-ta-hi-me!" Satoru said in a singsong voice. "Are you at college? Do you miss me? You cryin'?"

Utahime bristled. "I'm not crying!"

And with that, she hung up on him, wiping the tears off her cheeks.

Notes:

It strikes me that Utahime is a very "actions speak louder than words" kind of person. She tells Gojo off a lot, voices her displeasure with him, complains about him. But she lets him do things, accepts his invitations, and approaches him first when she needs something. So yeah, she says a lot of stuff, but her actions say a lot more about how she really feels 3

Also, for the record, Suguru is only flirting/saying suggestive things to Utahime to make Satoru mad. XD

Chapter 4: Can You Kiss Me More?

Summary:

An alternate exploration of the sister school exchange event and the Vol 0.5 mini chapter. Satoru helps Utahime realize her worth.

Notes:

Once again, I let the self-indulgence get away from me.

Chapter title from Kiss Me More by Doja Cat/SZA

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

October 2018

"Are they dating?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Didn't you see that video that was going around? They were at that baseball game together and they, um… They made out on the kiss cam."

"What? Miss Iori made out with him? Mr. Gojo?"

"I've got the video right here."

Utahime tried to block out the hushed voices of her students, but there was no escaping them in the train car. Usually they were well-behaved, but whenever it came time to visit with the sister campus, somehow things always got a little haywire. Utahime always blamed Satoru for the chaotic energy that he spread everywhere he went.

And in this case in particular she definitely blamed him. He was the one to force a kiss on her for the kiss cam, and her worst fear had been realized: the clip had gotten out.

So far it seemed that it was only the students who had seen the video — the school officials didn't seem to be aware of it, and Utahime hoped it stayed that way and she wouldn't risk losing her job because she'd been caught kissing her colleague. Because if they dug any deeper and found out just how close she and Satoru had been all these years…

She shivered at the thought. She needed to speak to Satoru about it — both to scold him and to warn him that the video was going around.

When Utahime, her students, and their chaperones finally arrived at the school, they waited outside the campus grounds in the hot sunshine for someone to come and greet them. The school ambassador — Utahime's counterpart — was supposed to welcome them, but so far only a couple of school officials and a gaggle of students had shown up.

Her students milled about, interacting awkwardly with the students from the other campus. She nodded in greeting to Megumi Fushiguro, Satoru's (for lack of a better term) adopted son. His messy black hair bobbed as he gave Utahime a nod and a tight-lipped smile back, never one for showing much emotion.

Utahime still didn't understand the specifics of Satoru's parenthood or how it worked, no matter how many times he had explained it to her over the years. Satoru became Megumi's (and his sister Tsumiki's) legal guardian after they'd had some family troubles, but the Gojo family had sort of stepped in to help take care of them since he was only a teenager at the time of the "adoption". Satoru was also the kids' main financial caretaker, and he'd somehow provided living arrangements for them as soon as he was old enough, but Satoru was much too young and immature to be an actual father, and, and, and…

She tried not to parse it out again for the millionth time. All she knew was that Satoru had obtained these children and had been the least likely person capable of being responsible for small and vulnerable people. He'd called upon Utahime several times ever since he acquired them to help him with one thing or another, despite she herself not having any idea how to raise a child. She always did the best she could, and had earned herself a quiet respect from Megumi in return.

Utahime checked the time on her phone.

"Where is that idiot," she muttered, knowing exactly who was supposed to greet them, and that he tended to do things at his own leisure.

"We're coming!" The loud shout preceded the appearance of their ambassador: a grinning and radiant Satoru, ushering an extra student along. Utahime didn't recognize the student — a stockily built boy with spiky pink hair, looking both excited and nervous, like a puppy meeting new friends.

"Just had to help Yuji with some things!" Satoru said brightly, bounding into the center of the gathering. Utahime wondered if this boy was yet another of Satoru's "special case" students. "Are we all ready? Then let's gooooo!"

The students shuffled along, following the school officials towards the athletics compound behind the school. Utahime approached Satoru, grasping the back of his sleeve, wanting to make her intentions known before she forgot or Satoru became too preoccupied with the day's events.

"Gojo," she said, and he turned around, focusing down at her, his mouth twisting amusedly at her formal use of his surname.

"Iori," he said back, throwing an arm around her shoulders in what could be seen as a friendly greeting, but was ruined with the surreptitiously intimate way that he squeezed her arm and let his fingers trail over her neck as he withdrew.

"I need to speak with you later," Utahime told him, ignoring the tingles that his touch created, watching his grin widen.

"Privately?" he asked, decreasing his volume to a suggestive tone, raising an eyebrow underneath the fringe of his hair.

Utahime suppressed an eye roll. "Yes. But not like—"

"I look forward to it," Satoru interrupted, smiling broadly at her before turning his attention back to the students.

The first day of the event consisted of several rounds of competition in athletic games — mostly track and field, which meant that Satoru's students had an edge since he, track star extraordinaire, was their coach.

Utahime remembered the previous year, when a shy and unassuming student of Satoru's named Yuta had dominated the event, almost winning the entire thing single handedly. Later, Satoru had explained to Utahime that Yuta had a troubled past and that Satoru had personally been seeing to his growth.

This year, Yuta seemed to be letting the first years take the lead, but even inexperienced as they were, they held their own extremely well.

Utahime watched as the new student Yuji again and again outstripped his competitors in foot races and shot put, while Megumi cleared hurdles as if they weren't there. She had to admire their ability and skill, even if it came at the expense of her own students.

As Satoru spoke closely with Yuji, looking as if he were giving pointers, Utahime knew her earlier suspicion had been correct: he was one that Satoru had hand-picked as his own protégé. Somehow he had a knack of recruiting the most unexpectedly impressive and capable students. She watched as Satoru talked and joked with Yuji and Megumi, looking proud as ever with each win. And as he slung an arm around Megumi, looking more like father and son than teacher and student, Utahime's belly swirled unusually, the corners of her lips turning upwards in a little smile. An understanding and a realization began circling in her brain.

This goofy and immature man had this strange propensity to take in children who needed someone, to give them a purpose and a person to rely on. And while Satoru may not be "reliable" in the conventional sense, he simply had his own way of doing things.

It was clear that he cared deeply about them. It seemed that he always had, from when he was a teenager with Megumi and Tsumiki, to Yuta, and now — Utahime supposed — with Yuji. Satoru let them explore their strengths and weaknesses, guiding them sometimes but letting them learn through their own experiences as they went through life. Letting them be the people they wanted or needed to be.

The swirl in Utahime's belly expanded, making her feel light and abruptly happy. Confused by the unexpected emotion, she looked up at the sky, attributing it to being out in the hot sunshine.

When she glanced back down at Satoru, he was smiling at her from across the field. His white hair shone brightly, the sun outlining his tall frame, and Utahime started to smile back. But then he pointed to the scoreboard on the side of the field, which showed his students in the lead, and he stuck his tongue out playfully at her.

Incensed, Utahime spun around, turning her back to him as she heard his loud laughter ring across the grass, the feeling in her belly dissipating immediately.

As the end of the day neared, there was a break in the events to allow students and faculty to rest up before the final match-ups. Utahime was taking a swig from her water bottle, wiping the sweat from her forehead, when Satoru approached her, handing her a cool, damp towel.

"So," he said, watching her gratefully accept the towel and dab her face. "You wanted to speak to me?"

"Can we go somewhere less… open?" Utahime asked, glancing around, concerned about all the ears that could be listening.

"Teacher's lounge," Satoru said, tilting his head for her to follow. "No one will be there at the moment."

She tossed aside the towel and hurried after him, almost jogging to keep up with his long-legged stride. He blathered on about how well his students were performing in the event while Utahime trotted beside him, her already sun-heated face flushing further.

When they finally reached the teacher's lounge, Utahime sighed with relief at the coolness of the air conditioned room. It was indeed empty, all the faculty and staff out chaperoning the event.

Satoru looked down at her, surprised to see her slightly out of breath, watching her perch onto the edge of a table and face him. He stepped right up to her, gaze lingering on her face, her pinkened cheeks, dewy with sweat. "You're pretty pretty," he said, as if he'd only just noticed it.

"Pretty pretty," Utahime repeated, wanting to be serious but unable to keep from smiling at the silly wording.

He grinned back, realizing what he'd said, reaching out to touch her cheek. Utahime slapped his hand away, refocusing herself. She would not get carried away by his charms.

Satoru chuckled at her change of expression, sinking his hands into his pockets but not stepping away from her, the front of his pants brushing against her knees.

"So have I done something?" Satoru asked, his tone careless and unapologetic.

"Have you ever not done something?"

"Well, I—"

"That was a rhetorical question," Utahime interrupted before he could ramble on and make her forget her mission. "The video's gotten out."

Satoru looked at her blankly. "What video?"

"The video of us," Utahime sighed. With the amount of time he spent on the internet, he should know what she was talking about. He was constantly leaving stupid comments on her posts and tagging her in things that he found funny. Sometimes Utahime found them funny as well, but she always ignored him, never allowing him an inch.

"Video?" Satoru was still looking slightly perplexed. "Of us?"

"Yes," Utahime said exasperatedly. "Of us at the baseball game."

Satoru's expression cleared. "Ohhh," he said, looking amused. "That video. Yeah, I know."

"What else could I possibly have been talking about?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you took a video of one of our… encounters, and somehow it got out."

Utahime nearly fell off the table. "Why in the world would I take a video of that?!"

Satoru smiled his shit-eating grin. "Performance review."

She wanted to smack him. And then her heart seized as a possibility struck her, and she thought back to all the times she'd been intimate with him at his apartment. "Have… have you ever…?" She couldn't even ask the full question, the thought of him hiding a camera somewhere and recording them making her stomach turn.

He laughed outright. "Of course not. I'd never disrespect your trust that way. Our time together is only for us."

Utahime took a deep, steadying breath. Focus on the task at hand. Don't let him distract you.

"Good. Now back to my original point."

Satoru crossed his arms, rearranging his expression to one of forced seriousness. "Yes. Do go on."

"The kiss cam video. It's gotten out, and my students have seen it and there's a lot of talk happening."

"Heh, yeah," Satoru laughed, unable to keep his serious face for long. "I read some comments. People are funny."

"Gojo," Utahime said sternly. "If the school officials see the video, it could mean trouble for both of us."

Satoru studied her carefully over the rim of his sunglasses. "Yes and no."

"Please elaborate," Utahime said flatly, not seeing any way that they wouldn't get a stern and uncomfortable talking-to at the very least.

"Sure, if they see the video, some questions could arise," Satoru said reasonably. "But it's not like one of us is in a position of power over the other. We don't even work at the same campus. And," he added, barely able to keep his smile hidden. "None of that will be seen as odd if we inform them that we're dating."

Utahime's stomach dropped. "Was — was that your plan all along? Trapping me into dating you through… video blackmail?"

Satoru laughed, but his expression betrayed him — he actually looked a little hurt. "Oh, Utahime," he said, and he outstretched a hand to her but stopped short of touching her arm. "Do you really think so low of me that I'd do something like that?"

Guilt washed over her, but the paranoia of losing her job was still very much present. "It wouldn't be the first time," she muttered.

"When have I trapped you into doing something?"

"Prom," she said, feeling stupid as she said it.

Satoru chuckled quietly. "Okay, I will admit that I was a bit crafty with that. But I always thought you enjoyed that night."

Utahime sighed. "I did."

Satoru considered her silently for a moment and then said, "Look, if anything happens with that kiss cam video, I'll handle it. If you want, you can put all the blame on me and I'll go down as the bad guy. But we won't lose our jobs. I'll make sure of it. Besides, there's no way the school would fire the great Satoru Gojo."

"And what about me?"

"They'd never get rid of the award-winning Utahime Iori either."

She snorted. "Don't try to flatter me," she muttered.

"Hey. I'm going to level with you, Iori." Satoru's tone changed abruptly to one of seriousness. His hands wrapped firmly around her upper arms and Utahime locked eyes with his polar-blue gaze, unfamiliar with this solemn version of him. "If the school would get rid of you for something as stupid as that, then they don't deserve you. You've raised the caliber of the entire school with your work ethic and compassion for these kids. Hell, you even made me try harder when we went to school together. And that's saying something."

Utahime pressed her lips together, unsure if he was just speaking nonsense to appease her. But he looked completely serious with the way his entire focus was on her, not a trace of his playfulness to be found.

"And I know you're going to say that you're only a music teacher, blah blah blah, but you know you're so much more than that. With all the student initiatives that you've created, the programs that the school has implemented based on your work, in all departments, not just your own. They'd be crazy to fire you for kissing the idiot physics teacher from the sister campus."

Utahime smiled a little at Satoru's dig at himself.

"You're one of a kind, Utahime Iori. Okay?" Satoru peered into her eyes and she looked back, seeing nothing but sincerity. This certainly was a side of Satoru that she'd rarely, if ever, encountered.

"Okay?" he asked again, and she nodded slowly.

Satoru seemed satisfied that he'd gotten through to her, that he'd been forgiven on some level, and the mischievous sparkle returned to his eyes.

"In any case, you can't say you didn't enjoy that kiss. And what came after. And again the morning after."

It was amazing how he could go from straight-laced and pointed to insufferable and devilish at the drop of a hat. But he was, of course, correct: she did enjoy that night. And the morning after.

"Regardless, I'm still mad at you," Utahime said, not wanting to let him get away with his transgressions just because he had a way with his words and his body.

"I'm no stranger to that," Satoru said amusedly. He stepped closer, wedging his knee between hers, separating her legs a little.

"Gojo," she warned, but she didn't push him away.

"Stop trying to be so proper by calling me that. Everyone knows we're old friends. And you've never been shy about screaming my name in ecstasy."

"In private," Utahime said, her face growing warmer.

"Like we are now."

"This is hardly private." She glanced around the teachers' lounge again just to be sure they were actually alone.

"No one's here, Uta. Want to have a quickie?"

"Gojo!"

"Oh, come on," Satoru said, his voice lowering several octaves as he squeezed himself further between her knees. "Listen, if the school wants to fire you over what we did, then why not stick it to them by doing whatever you want on school grounds. Wouldn't that be the most egregious thing to do? To do exactly what they wouldn't want, right within their sacred buildings?"

A thrill ran through Utahime's spine at the suggestion, defiance and impulsiveness and fear in equal amounts.

"You can't tell me you've never wanted to misbehave at school. We used to get pretty handsy back in the day."

"Only because…" She trailed off, not wanting to admit that she only did that because she needed to feel like she had control over him. She definitely wouldn't admit that she maybe had fantasized (in the deep, dark recesses of her mind) about going all the way with him on school grounds.

"Because what?" Satoru asked. "Because you were teaching me a lesson?"

Utahime looked at him sharply, and his grin was all too knowing.

"You could teach me a lesson again if you like. Since, you know, my students appear to have the better teacher, considering how well they're performing today. You could remind me who's actually better. Sway me with your…" He paused, letting his eyes drop slowly down her body and then back up to her face. "Talents."

Utahime's voice was weak and unconvincing despite the spike of annoyance at his jab. "We're at school, Gojo." She was a little miffed that her students were losing, but that was no reason to lose her sense of propriety… right?

"Just a kiss, then." His thumb brushed her cheek, gliding over her scar.

Utahime couldn't deny that she'd been stealing glances at his lips surreptitiously all day, remembering all the places across her body they'd latched onto just a couple weeks prior. If she was being completely honest with herself, Satoru's increasingly frequent visits to her apartment had done nothing to satiate her fully, and instead had been having the opposite effect: she wanted him more than ever.

And, kiss cam situation aside, he'd been unusually nice to her lately.

Maybe a kiss would be harmless enough. A reward for his mostly-good behavior.

She raised her head to look at him and he smiled, knowing that he'd won her over.

Satoru leaned down, bringing his face to hers, pausing just before making contact. Utahime's lips parted, nearly quivering with anticipation, the heat of Satoru's skin and breath almost scalding.

And he kissed her, slowly and gently, lips soft as they moved with hers.

He didn't normally kiss like this. Things were usually heated, moving quickly, passion and urges overwhelming everything else. Satoru didn't usually kiss with such… sensitivity.

It made Utahime's muscles turn to putty, made her jaw slacken to accept Satoru's languidly exploring tongue, made her tilt her head to offer him a better angle.

Several minutes must have gone by before Utahime came back to her senses, discovering that her hand was now wrapped around the back of his neck, fingers grazing his undercut. Remembering where they were, she reluctantly retreated, but she was unable to pull away completely, her lips still millimeters away from Satoru's.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she breathed, and Satoru closed the space and kissed her again.

"I know," he murmured against her mouth.

Utahime closed her eyes, her fingers pressing into Satoru's skin. "We can't," she said weakly.

"You're right." He moved to her cheek, planting small, slow kisses.

"Then… let's stop." Utahime made no move to pull away, instead lifting her head as Satoru's mouth drifted towards her neck.

"You first," Satoru whispered.

Even if Utahime's brain wanted to stop, her body would not have listened. Her spoken protestations were flimsy at best, though she continued uttering them feebly.

"We can't do this… I can't…"

Satoru's lips were at her jugular; she could feel her pulse beating against him. "So stop," he said, moving back to her mouth, hovering an inch in front of her.

Utahime leaned forward to connect them again, and Satoru took that as his cue to continue, holding her tighter, kissing her harder.

"We can't," Utahime gasped, trying to make her body obey and draw away. Satoru moved as if to pull back, but Utahime gripped his neck and kept him in place. "We should stop." Her words were at odds with her actions. Satoru's tongue slid into her mouth again, and she met it with her own. "Can't stop…" Her voice was a faint whisper between kisses. A quiet sound of pleasure came from the back of Satoru's throat. "Don't…" With one more plea, she lost all conviction. "Don't stop."

Satoru obeyed.

One hand slid around her waist, pulling her close as his mouth fell upon hers, his other hand sliding straight between her legs to her center. His fingers pushed against her, and she pushed back, grinding against him, his lips curving into a smile.

"I knew it," he murmured, and his hand went to work unbuttoning her shorts, slipping into her underwear, hot against her core.

She gasped as he shoved two digits into her, sweat trickling down the side of her neck. His mouth was there in an instant, tongue gathering up her sweat, and he sucked open-mouthed kisses all the way up to her jaw.

It should have felt wrong, doing these things based on a hypothetical. Maybe the school wouldn't care if she and Satoru had kissed at a baseball game. Maybe they'd allow it, no repercussions at all.

But Satoru was right, in a way. Utahime had based her whole life on what other people — people "in charge" — thought was right or wrong. She'd given her all to those people, and if they would repay her with termination of her job over something like a kiss…? Maybe they didn't deserve her.

Utahime could not believe that such thoughts were racing across her mind. How did Satoru have this ability to make her think such rebellious things?

Or perhaps — and her blood chilled at the thought — maybe deep down, she truly was this way, and Satoru was only bringing it to the surface? Perhaps her "good girl" persona was just that: a persona, a front so well practiced and enacted that she herself believed it?

Rebellion and passion raged in her veins.

She could be both good and bad. She could be anything. Do anything. Anything she wanted.

And at that moment, she wanted Satoru.

"Gojo," Utahime whispered, and he bit — actually bit — her neck, and she gasped.

"No," he murmured, almost growling at her. "Say it properly." His hand plunged deep into her while his thumb circled her clit, the sound of it obscene in the quiet classroom.

"Go—," Utahime began, unsure what he meant, and he clamped his teeth onto her again. She let out a squeal of both pleasure and panic, worried that he would leave a visible mark for the whole school to see.

He licked away the pain, and then he pressed his forehead against hers, electric blue eyes burning into hers.

"Say my name properly," he whispered. "I want to hear you say it so that I can imagine it every time I walk into this room." He curled his fingers into her and then added a third. "I want to have lunch at this table knowing I made you come on it." His thumb pressed onto her clit again and static shot through her body.

"Satoru!" Utahime gasped, hands raking into his hair.

He moan-chuckled, saying, "There we go," and then kissed her, hard, tongue delving into her mouth.

She could taste her own sweat on him, could smell the spiciness of his deodorant, feel the damp sweat at the base of his neck.

This was the Satoru she was used to: greedy, possessive, purposeful. The Satoru that made her lose her mind, lose all sense of self-respect.

In their teenage years, when they were at school, she had never allowed him to do anything more than kiss her. Maybe a hand or two up her shirt, a dry hump here or there, the outline of his dick against the pleats of her skirt.

How far they'd come since then.

Utahime met her release with a gasp, Satoru's free arm holding her tight as she shuddered against his chest, pulsing around his fingers, Satoru whispering soothing, sensual things into her ear.

He kissed her slowly as she came down, pulling out of her, smiling at her weary face. He helped her seal her shorts again, but when she palmed the front of his pants, feeling his arousal and wanting to repay the pleasure, he gently grasped her wrist and pulled it away.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "We should probably get back to everyone."

It was unlike Satoru to deny himself something that he wanted, and Utahime eyed him quizzically.

He gave her a smile, leaning into her and cupping her cheek. "You can always come over to my place tonight for something a little more, if you still need to be satisfied. I'm sure my bed is miles better than whatever hotel the school has put you in for the next couple days."

Utahime, while quite familiar with Satoru's bed, pushed him away, mild irritation sneaking its way back into her mood. "I'm here on school business. This isn't some pleasure vacation."

Satoru smirked. "Well, you know me, I tend to mix business and pleasure. Especially when it comes to you, babe."

Utahime slid off the table and straightened her clothes, ensuring that there were no lingering stains. "Well, fortunately, I'm not like you. And for the last time, I'm not your babe."

Satoru chuckled quietly as she strode towards the door, and she was struck with the memory of Shoko's assertion that she and Satoru were alike. Considering what she'd just allowed to happen, and the rebellious thoughts that had run through her brain, Utahime briefly, and with slight horror, doubted her own convictions about who she thought she was. But rather than get caught up in this existential strife, she pushed the memory and its implications aside. She'd consider it later. Maybe. Possibly never.

She turned to Satoru as she put her hand on the doorknob.

"The video…" she began, reverting back to her original purpose for getting Satoru alone.

"Like I said, if anything comes of it, I'll handle it," Satoru reassured her.

She nodded. "Thank you."

The activity on the second day of the exchange event came as a surprise to Utahime — instead of a continuation of individual competitions, they were having a team event, which happened to be soccer, her other favorite sport.

From her place on the sidelines, she shouted encouragement and instructions to her students while trying not to watch Satoru, who was the referee for the match. He was showing off his athletic prowess, sprinting up and down the pitch along with the students, his long legs carrying him easily, his ass looking a little too good in his soccer shorts.

During halftime, after Utahime gave what she hoped was an invigorating pep talk to her students, Satoru sauntered over to where she stood in the shade of some trees.

"Looks like my students are top-notch once again," Satoru said, glancing pointedly at the scoreboard.

Utahime tried to be diplomatic as she said, "As long as everyone's having fun, that's what matters."

"Are you having fun?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," Utahime said truthfully. "I don't know how the event got changed to soccer, but it's one of my favorite sports."

Satoru grinned. He pulled down his sunglasses to look at her and gave her a wink, saying, "I know," and then he strolled away, blowing on his whistle to summon the students back to the pitch.

Utahime's stomach gave a little jolt. Had he done something? There was no reason for him to have done this, if it was even his doing. She didn't even know if he had that much power to change the entire event's schedule. But if somehow he did…

For the third time in recent memory, Utahime was touched by something Satoru had done. First the baseball tickets, then the sincerity he'd shown in their conversation yesterday, and now this…

If she wasn't careful, she might actually start to like the man.

The event ended with Utahime's students taking yet another big loss, but everyone seemed to have had a good time. Even Todo, notorious for garnering dislike amongst anyone who knew him, had claimed Satoru's new student Yuji as his "best friend", and Yuji even seemed to like him back.

As she puttered around her own hotel room that evening, making plans to visit the big outlet mall while she was in the city before heading home, Utahime ignored several texts from Satoru, who kept trying to invite her to a night out with him. He was taking Megumi and Tsumiki out for ice cream, and while it sounded pleasant and she briefly considered it, Utahime knew the night would likely be spent fending off Satoru's invitations to his bed while Megumi would pointedly pretend he hadn't heard anything and Tsumiki would giggle and nudge Utahime in an encouraging way.

She did not want to deal with that kind of evening, so Utahime just ignored the texts and went to bed, falling into the hotel's crisp and cool sheets, having dreams of sky blue eyes and a mischievous grin that were forgotten in the morning.

The mall was crowded with teens, young children with their parents, and old couples alike as Utahime navigated her way to the cosmetics shop that Shoko had told her about. Skincare was the one luxury that she afforded herself, happy to spend wads of cash on overpriced lotions, serums, and oils. She was excited to see what new products she could try, and to replenish her usual skincare supplies.

Upon arriving at the shop, Utahime was surprised to be greeted by Yuta and one of Satoru's other students, Maki. She chatted with them briefly, and remembered that Satoru had told her that Yuta was actually a distant cousin of his. She studied him, his dark hair, sweet face, and calm demeanor the complete opposite of Satoru. The only similarity was bright blue eyes and a charming disposition.

Both Yuta and Maki seemed less-than-informed about the shop's products, having only just started their jobs, so Utahime picked up a shopping basket and went off on her own to browse.

She was looking through a display of perfumes and had just selected one and tossed it into her basket when a voice spoke very close behind her ear.

"What's that?"

Utahime jumped, balling up her fists as she spun around, ready to fight off whoever had been creeping on her, even though she already knew who it was from the sound of his voice.

Satoru was smiling down at her, eyes obscured by his dark sunglasses, hands slung into the pockets of his khaki pants.

"What are you doing here?" Utahime demanded. "Are you stalking me?"

He chuckled. "I just so happened to be picking up an extra pair of sunglasses and a little bird named Shoko told me you might be here."

Utahime ground her teeth. She cursed the fact that Satoru was also close friends with Shoko — that he had, in fact, been friends with her first.

"So what is that?" Satoru asked again, nodding to the perfume box in her basket.

"It's perfume," Utahime replied, turning back to the rows of bottles.

"Ah, to hide your stench?"

She spared Satoru a glare over her shoulder while he smirked. "Did you need something?" she asked coldly.

"Nope," he replied. "Just thought I'd come and say hello." He continued trailing her around the shop, offering unhelpful advice on products that he knew nothing about.

"Why don't you leave the advice to your students, who actually work here?" Utahime placed a very expensive jar of eye cream back on the shelf — far too expensive even for her.

"They do? Who?" Satoru looked around and spotted Yuta sweeping the floor near the cash register. He gave a shout of laughter, striding over to him, and Yuta smiled widely, always happy to see Satoru.

What must that be like? Utahime wondered. To be constantly happy to see Satoru and not want to rip his throat out?

She watched him chatting with Yuta and Maki, watched him remove his sunglasses and hang them on his shirt collar, his pretty face revealed for all to see.

And right on cue, Utahime's belly flipped at the sight.

Too pretty, too handsome, she thought. All that prettiness wasted on such an obnoxious person.

She picked up another jar of eye cream without looking, her eyes fixed on Satoru. An evil little voice in the back of her mind piped up: You didn't think he was so obnoxious yesterday when he was being a decent guy.

Shut up, she told the evil voice, hot prickles creeping up her neck at the truth. She absently put the eye cream back and picked up another one, still staring at Satoru. Staring at the genuine happiness and care on his face as he spoke to his students. Trying to push down a swirling feeling in her chest and throat.

She heard her name carry over to where she was standing, and she quickly looked away when Satoru glanced over at her with a smile.

Caught staring, the evil voice laughed.

Shut UP! she thought furiously.

A few minutes later, Satoru was back at her side as she reached up to a high shelf, a bottle of toner just beyond her fingertips. Satoru chuckled and easily picked up the toner, handing it to her and then patting her back. "Poor small thing."

"You're just freakishly tall," she said, shouldering him in the chest, and he chuckled again, his hand lingering on her back, traveling lower, rubbing gently and sending goosebumps across her skin. When she didn't complain, Satoru continued, inching himself closer to her.

Seeing him so sincerely joyful while interacting with his students had filled Utahime's heart with surprising warmth and a sudden wish to be near him. Behind a tall stand of facial oils, out of sight of his students, Utahime found herself angling into him, the swirl in her lungs wheeling faster as she turned her face towards his chest, catching a whiff of his cologne, her head spinning pleasingly.

What was happening to her?

Satoru responded by grinning roguishly, leaning into her, pressing his tall body against her, pushing his hips forward until Utahime felt a hard warmth against her side.

Heat bloomed on her cheeks. "Stop that," she muttered, immediately wary of what her own actions had brought upon her. But her words were once again at odds with her actions as she didn't move away, and Satoru continued drawing spirals on her spine. Trying to ignore him, she reached up to grab a box of moisturizer at random, but Satoru caught her hand, bringing it down to place on his crotch so she could fully feel his arousal.

Desire flooded through her and she glanced up quickly to ensure that no one was near this corner of the shop, and then squeezed Satoru's hard bulge.

He took in a short breath. "Uta, feeling frisky, huh?" He pressed harder, sandwiching her palm between his crotch and his large hand.

"You are an incorrigible pervert," she whispered back, but a thrill ran through her as she gave him another squeeze.

God, how did he do this to her? How did he always inspire this insanity, this foolishness, this reckless freedom?

"Want to get out of here?" he asked, his voice now laced with huskiness.

"I still have more shopping to do," she said, tugging her hand back, the heat of him lingering on her palm.

"I'll come with you," he said, adjusting himself. "And then we can get out of here."

Utahime focused back onto the moisturizers. "Maybe."

"I'll behave."

"Unlikely."

Utahime finished up her cosmetics shopping, looking regretfully at the expensive eye cream one last time before paying for her goods. Satoru lingered behind in the store after she was done, speaking to Yuta briefly again before catching up to Utahime.

He trailed her through the mall, opening doors for her and snatching her shopping bags so he could rummage through them, stealing the remnants of her azuki bean taiyaki after devouring his own. She knew they must look like a couple, and a rather affectionate one at that, with the way Satoru took every opportunity to touch her, to place a hand on the small of her back, to stand so close to her that he could lean his face down into her hair and inhale deeply.

Other women at the mall let their gazes linger on Satoru, admiring him, and then hurriedly looking away or glaring when they saw him straightening Utahime's hair ribbon or tucking some loose strands behind her ear. She wished she could tell them that he was just an idiotic man-child and was being a nuisance on her shopping trip and she wanted nothing to do with him. But she'd be lying to both them and herself.

Satoru kept leaning into her, pressing against her, reminding her of what he wanted. And every time he did it, she grew more and more keyed up, though she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that his tactic was working on her. She was almost disgusted with herself for her body's involuntary response; she lamented that the chemicals in her brain were so receptive to him. Ignoring him would be so much easier if she didn't desire him, if she wasn't still in this childish, one-sided mental competition with him, and if that stupid fluttery feeling in her belly would just go away.

When he gave her butt a covert squeeze and she blushed scarlet while trying to order a matcha bubble tea, she wickedly thought, Two can play this game.

After he bought himself an ice cream cone, a towering swirl of vanilla and strawberry, she grabbed it before he could begin eating and slowly dragged her tongue all the way up the side of it, eyes fixed on him as she closed her mouth around the tip. He balked as she handed the cone back to him, the tips of his ears turning pink, and she knew she'd gotten him.

And so it continued. It became an unspoken game — tit for tat, who could rile up the other person more.

When Utahime bent over to pick something up and "accidentally" gave Satoru a view down her shirt, he stretched his arms over his head, shirt lifting and revealing his toned abs and the soft hair beneath his belly button trailing down into his waistband. When Satoru leaned in close to whisper the things he wanted to do to her, Utahime nodded towards a dressing room and said, "How 'bout in there?" before laughing at his shock.

Utahime loved catching Satoru off-guard, loved seeing his nearly-always-perfect facade drop a little, watching him quake beneath his suave words and confident touch.

It was stupid, and it was fun, and it was dangerous.

And when she'd finished her shopping they'd finally — finally — made it to Satoru's extravagant high-rise, the sex was magnificent and glorious and just what Utahime needed.

They lay naked next to each other on top of Satoru's rumpled bed, a sheen of sweat covering them both, Utahime catching her breath while Satoru tied off the condom and tossed it into a wastebasket.

"While you're still in the throes of post-coital bliss, there's something I wanted to ask you," Satoru said, rolling onto his side and facing her, propping himself up onto an elbow.

"No, I will not date you."

Satoru chuckled. "No, not that." He trailed a finger from her jugular notch down her sternum and back up again. "Next weekend Megumi has a taekwondo tournament. I know he's feeling a little nervous about it, even if he won't say so. Would you like to come? Your company might help settle him."

Whatever Utahime expected Satoru to ask, it wasn't this. She was taken aback, both by the request and the idea that she could do anything to help Megumi's nerves. When she voiced this last bit, Satoru smiled.

"He gets frustrated with me often. But I know he respects you and you're a consistently mature adult presence in his life. It's good for him to have that."

Utahime's thoughts shot off in a million different directions. Megumi's supposed respect for her. Satoru displaying his fathering skills again. Satoru's assertion that she was good for Megumi. But one thing in particular that didn't have much to do with Megumi had snagged her attention. Something that she'd been ruminating on for weeks now.

"Why do you suddenly want me in your life so much?" Utahime asked, setting aside Megumi's tournament for a moment. "Isn't the occasional casual sex enough for you?"

Satoru considered her silently for a moment, his eyes flicking over her face, his finger tracing over her neck in feather-light touches. He said simply, "No."

He did not elaborate, and Utahime's response died in her throat as she stared back at him, meeting his frank gaze. The strange swirl in her chest was back, accompanied by something that felt a little like fear.

"So, Megumi?" Satoru asked, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

Utahime mentally shook herself, hearing herself speak rather than making any conscious decision to do so. "I'll have to check my schedule. But… sure."

Satoru smiled and he leaned down to kiss her shoulder.

"For Megumi only," she pointed out, and she remembered a similar promise she'd made to Satoru in high school, but back then she'd only done it for Shoko.

"Of course," Satoru said, peppering her collarbone with more kisses.

Utahime glanced at the clock on his nightstand. "I should go. My train is leaving in an hour."

Satoru sighed. "Yeah. I'll drive you to the station." But he didn't move to get up, and neither did she. His hand trailed down to her pelvis, sliding around her thigh and pulling her legs apart again. "One more quick fuck for the road?"

He was incredibly hard to resist when he looked at her like this, already naked and at attention.

"Fine," Utahime said, firmly tucking away those pesky weird feelings, pulling Satoru on top of her and wrapping herself around him.

"So you guys had some fun in the teacher's lounge and you went shopping together and back to his place… in the span of three days. Not to mention he invited you to come have ice cream with his kids. And you're going to one of his kids' sports events. Sounds a little… relationshippy, if you ask me, Uta."

Utahime grimaced at her phone, the video call pixelating Shoko's amused face. The phone was propped up against her bathroom mirror while she brushed her teeth, getting ready for bed after downing a couple beers when she'd finally made it home.

"Shoko, we're just colleagues," Utahime said around a mouthful of toothpaste. "Friends, if you want to go that far."

"Oh, honey. Colleagues don't go to baseball games together and fuck afterwards. Well, maybe some do. But friends don't do… whatever it is you two were doing at the mall." Shoko smiled at her in a pitying sort of way, as if Utahime was too dense to see what she and Satoru were doing.

Utahime rinsed out her mouth. "Fine, friends with benefits," she clarified, bringing her phone into her bedroom and then digging through her dresser for something to sleep in.

"Helluva lot of benefits lately," Shoko muttered, still with that knowing smile.

Utahime ignored her, putting on a loose crop top and some bottoms. She wasn't embarrassed to change in front of Shoko; they'd done it countless times at sleepovers and late nights after karaoke and beers.

"Uta, what are you wearing?" Shoko asked as Utahime tied up her hair.

Utahime looked down at herself and then froze, realizing what she'd put on. In her tiredness and beer-muddled state, she'd mindlessly grabbed the most comfortable and comforting thing in her dresser, the thing she wore after she had some alcohol and felt cozy and tender and — sometimes — salacious. Her mind raced to find an answer, an excuse, anything. But there was no avoiding it, no way she could explain it as anything other than what it was. So instead, she deflected.

"My shirt? It's just an old—"

"No," Shoko interrupted, leaning in close to her phone's camera. "On your butt."

Utahime couldn't see a way out of it, short of hanging up on Shoko, which wouldn't solve anything because Shoko would just keep calling her. "It's… underwear," she said, still deflecting.

"That looks like a boy's underwear," Shoko said, her big, dark eyes now the only thing showing on Utahime's screen. "Whose underwear is that?"

Utahime closed her eyes, knowing the jig was up, dreading the storm that was about to descend upon her. "Satoru's."

She heard Shoko gasp, heard the smile in that gasp. She opened her eyes to see Shoko grinning.

"Why do you have those? Did he leave them there? Is he living with you? Did you steal his—"

"No," Utahime said vehemently. She pinched the bridge of her nose. The truth was so much worse.

"Speak," Shoko demanded.

Utahime sighed heavily. There was no way out. "Do you… do you remember my prom night?" Utahime asked, looking anywhere but at her phone screen. "When Satoru jumped with me into the pool?" She paused, waiting for Shoko to say something so that she could prolong uttering the truth.

"Yes," Shoko said, sounding as if she already knew where this was going but wanted to hear Utahime say it.

"And you were helping me change and I didn't have any underwear?"

"Mmhmm."

"And you handed me a pair of Satoru's underwear?"

"Uh huh."

"This… this is them."

She waited a moment before looking at her phone. Shoko was smiling serenely, a touch of smugness and incredulity emanating through the phone screen.

"Utahime," Shoko said gently, and Utahime could barely keep eye contact with her. "You're wearing Satoru's high school underwear. To sleep. In your thirties."

"Uta's wearing what?"

Suguru's voice came through the phone's speaker quiet but clear, and Utahime froze in place, as if staying still would mean he hadn't heard or would expunge the information from his brain. Shoko's expression instantly turned sour as she let her phone drop with a clatter and Utahime was left looking at the ceiling fan. There were a couple of thumping sounds, Suguru yelping, and Shoko's voice saying, "I told you to stop eavesdropping! " while Suguru responded with, "But you're talking about my best friend! " More unintelligible arguing, and then Shoko was back.

"Suguru says sorry for listening and that he promises that he won't tell Satoru," Shoko said with a roll of her eyes. "I made him promise on pain of no sex ever again."

Utahime gave Shoko a look of the highest doubt, and Shoko could only shrug helplessly. They both knew that it was impossible for Suguru and Satoru to keep secrets from each other.

"Well, then there's only a small chance he won't tell," Utahime sighed. "Sorry about your sex life."

Shoko gave her a teasing smile. "That's okay. I can live vicariously through you since yours is so very active lately."

Utahime groaned, and Shoko looked at her sympathetically.

"Listen, hun, I would like to hear more about this little development with Satoru's panties, but I need to get ready for my shift and I know you're tired. So get some sleep, and you can tell me all about it later, okay? And I will get you drunk if I need to."

"Yeah, yeah," Utahime said, dreading that future conversation.

Utahime slid into bed after saying goodbye, her weary, mortified body sinking heavily into her mattress. Satoru's underwear hugged her lower half, soft and familiar.

It had been years — over a decade — since she'd worn the underwear for the first time and then never returned them. She hadn't been able to face Satoru then, and hadn't found the courage in the weeks and months afterwards. Eventually it just seemed unimportant, and he hadn't noticed anything, so she'd kept the underwear.

And now it seemed that this tiny, stupid secret was finally seeing the light of day.

Notes:

I think I may extend this another two chapters :3

Talk to me on Twitter _sweetspicy_

Chapter 5: Don't Forget To Think About Me

Summary:

Beach episode! Accidental date! Suguru plays wingman, Utahime gets tipsy, and later, Satoru makes a life changing decision.

Notes:

Apologies for the long wait again! But again, a behemoth of a chapter: almost 11k words!

Chapter title from Going Away To College by Blink-182

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

March 2007

Utahime's phone buzzed in her pocket for the third time in three minutes, the discordant noise penetrating clearly into the quiet of her music theory class. Her professor looked pointedly at her and she dipped her head apologetically, urgently squeezing the phone through the fabric of her pants, trying to prevent any more texts from coming through.

When her professor went back to the lecture, turning towards his projected powerpoint screen, she slid her phone from her pocket, keeping it beneath her desk as she looked at the front screen.

3 New Messages from Suguru Geto.

Why the hell was Suguru Geto texting her? And why did it have to be in the middle of class?

She slipped the phone back into her pocket without opening it. Another minute passed, and the phone buzzed again.

Utahime shut her eyes, wincing, and when she opened them again, her professor, and the rest of the class, was looking at her.

"Miss Iori, if you are having an emergency, please go and take care of it," the professor said. "Otherwise, please turn off your phone during class."

Utahime nodded fervently, pulling out her phone again and switching it off. Whatever Suguru wanted, she knew it wasn't an emergency. If he was having an emergency, he'd likely call up Satoru or Shoko, not her. Not to mention, she'd barely spoken to Suguru in the past two years — only the occasional greeting if he and Satoru happened to be around when she was picking up Shoko to hang out. It wouldn't make sense for him to contact her.

Then again… what if there was an emergency? If he was sending her message after message, perhaps something had happened to Shoko.

Utahime wiggled her foot agitatedly at the thought, now debating whether she should leave class to check what Suguru wanted.

But her sense of academic propriety reigned above all. She dutifully stayed in class for the remaining thirty minutes, and as soon as the professor dismissed them, she stuffed her belongings into her bag and switched her phone back on as she hurried out of the classroom.

5 New Messages flashed at her as she flipped open the phone and read the texts.

utahime

emergency

pls call me

pls it's about satoru

hurry

Fingers scrambling, she punched the callback button. Something must be really wrong if Suguru was contacting her about Satoru.

The phone rang twice and then she heard Suguru's deep, smooth voice.

"Yo," he said, sounding very calm, almost bored.

"Suguru? What is it? What's happening? Is Satoru okay?"

"Uh, yeah, he just left my house, why?"

"You texted me that there was an emergency."

"Oh, right. Yeah, Satoru is being insufferable."

Utahime stopped in her tracks. She had been walking quickly towards the parking garage where she'd parked her car, ready to jump in and drive wherever necessary. "He's… what?"

"He's being a little shit," Suguru said mildly. "I needed to talk to you about it."

"Wha— That was your emergency?" Utahime burned with anger and embarrassment. Of course there wasn't anything actually wrong. "I got in trouble with my professor! I nearly left class because I thought there was a problem!"

"There is a problem," Suguru insisted. "Satoru is the problem."

"Satoru is always a problem." Utahime tried to reign in her anger. "Why do you need to talk to me about him? Do I even want to know what this 'emergency' is about?"

"If you care about your long-suffering friends, yes."

Utahime ground her teeth and sighed, rubbing her temple.

Suguru took advantage of her momentary silence to add, "Utahime, it's been years since you hung out with us. Shoko's the only one you see. You could at least hear me out."

It was true enough. Satoru would text her on occasion or bother her over instant messenger, but she had only spent time with Shoko outside of the digital world. It wasn't that she didn't want to hang out with the boys — it was just that Shoko liked doing the same things as she did, and Shoko also didn't tease her or irritate the crap out of her.

"Fine, what is it?" Utahime turned around and started back towards the campus library.

"Well, to keep a long story short, I need Satoru to see you."

"Uh…"

"More specifically, he needs to uh… well. You guys need to fuck."

Utahime nearly tripped as she came to an abrupt halt again. "Excuse me? "

"I know, I know," Suguru said placatingly. "But please, Utahime, he's driving me insane. 'Not petite enough' this and 'not brunette enough' that. He doesn't even realize he's doing it."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Utahime started walking again, this time at twice her usual pace, her face very hot.

Suguru paused for a moment, and Utahime could hear some shifting around on his end before he spoke again. "Well, let me ask you this. Have you done the deed with any of those university boys?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not asking for details, just a simple yes or no."

Utahime mouthed wordlessly, glad that Suguru couldn't see the embarrassment plain on her face. He was speaking so casually in his usual calm demeanor, not flustered at all about their topic of conversation.

"So, have you?" Suguru asked again.

"I…. Well, yes." It hadn't happened often, but Utahime had indulged herself when she wanted. Always escaping or kicking the boy out of her room immediately afterwards.

"And was it any good?" Suguru asked factually.

"S–some… were… adequate." None had ever come close to how Satoru used to be able to make her feel.

"Uh huh," Suguru said, sounding like he knew that was how she'd answer. "Same with Satoru. Inadequate girls, according to him."

"Okay?" Utahime wasn't sure she wanted to hear about Satoru's exploits. She wasn't jealous — she just wasn't all that interested.

"Do you see the problem? Or the solution?"

"I…." Utahime couldn't quite believe the conversation she was having, and thus had no response.

Suguru sighed slowly and then patiently began explaining. "Satoru has done nothing but complain about girls for months and it is getting really old. And I realized that the last time I knew peace was when you and he were… well, you know. So if you're not getting your jollies off either, then why not just… satisfy each other like you used to? And then I could go at least one day without 'her tits were too big ' or 'her bangs weren't cute enough '."

Utahime almost laughed with incredulity. "So you're telling me that Satoru is sleeping around and not having any fun?"

"Oh, he's having fun, sure. But it always turns into moping once he remembers they're not y—I mean, they're not up to his standards."

"Right," Utahime said tiredly. "Well, I'm sorry but I can't help you."

"Ah, come on, Utahime," Suguru said, halfway between pleading and encouraging. "Just one night. You'd have a good time and he'd stop his bellyaching for a while."

"Nope. My life has been quite peaceful without Satoru in it. I'd like to keep it that way. So you can tell him thanks, but no thanks."

"Ouch. But just so we're clear, Satoru doesn't know I'm asking you to do this."

"Going behind his back, huh?"

"Helping a brother out," Suguru corrected.

"Right," Utahime said again.

There was a pause, as if Suguru were waiting for Utahime to change her mind once she saw that he was trying to be a benevolent friend. He seemed to concede that she meant her refusal, because he said, "Okay, if you could even just come to hang out with us, I'm sure that would help."

"You don't think that would make him worse?"

"Nah," Suguru said unconcernedly. "He was always in a good mood after seeing you."

Not for the first time, Utahime lamented that out of everyone in the world, Satoru had latched onto her. "I don't know…" Utahime hedged.

"What are your plans this weekend?" Suguru asked, as easily and casually as if they had been close friends all these years and he asked her this all the time.

"I…" Truthfully, Utahime had a rare free weekend. She'd just handed in a major paper and was going to allow herself to relax after many sleepless nights of research and rewrites. She did not anticipate that she might be coerced into hanging out with Satoru Gojo, of all people. There was even a party that she wanted to attend…

And then she was struck with a sudden idea.

"There's a gathering — a party — that some of the older students in my major put together," Utahime said. "I wanted to go and network."

"Always the enterprising student," Suguru said admiringly. "So does that mean you're busy?"

"Actually, we might be able to strike a bargain."

Utahime shaded her eyes as she stepped off the sidewalk and onto soft warm sand, sunlight reflecting blindingly off the glittering sea in the near distance. It had been a long time since she'd come to the beach, and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the salty air and the soothing sound of rolling waves, the sea breeze fluttering the ribbon that held up her ponytail.

She was here as part of the deal she'd made with Suguru: if she spent the day with him, Satoru, and Shoko, then they'd come with her to the party at her university. She'd been nervous about attending the party since she didn't know anyone who would be there, so she figured that she could bring some of her own friends in order to curb any awkward social encounters. There was a risk that Satoru could be an annoyance or an embarrassment, but Suguru promised that they would be well-behaved and that he and Shoko would keep Satoru in line. And Utahime was willing to take that risk in order to make a good impression on the older students.

So now she waited for her friends, sunshine beaming down onto her dark hair, heating her scalp and soaking into her skin. She fanned herself, looking longingly towards the refreshing ocean, grateful that she always applied sunscreen daily, rain or shine.

Satoru was the first to arrive.

Utahime spotted him walking (strolling, really) down the sidewalk, black shirt and black sunglasses contrasting with his wind-tossed white hair, a bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled broadly when he saw Utahime, and her heart, stupidly, skipped a beat.

It had been two years since Utahime had properly seen him, and he looked… Well, he looked like Satoru, but also… different.

He had gotten, if possible, even taller, his shoulders even broader, filling out his fitted black shirt, making his waist look tiny in comparison. Utahime had to forcefully drag her eyes away from that waist, back up to his face, biting her lip to keep her mouth from falling open.

He stopped in front of her, pulling down his glasses and looking at her over the top of them.

"Admiring the view?" Satoru asked, gem-cut eyes sparkling knowingly.

Utahime was immediately taken back to high school, the sound of Satoru's voice triggering memories of classrooms and math exams and irritation and annoyance and afternoons in Satoru's bedroom which always smelled of fabric softener and sweet vanilla.

Indeed, she had been admiring the view. But in response, she said haughtily, "Hello to you too, Satoru."

Satoru chuckled as he pushed his glasses back up and then lunged forward, wrapping Utahime in a tight hug and lifting her off the ground as she squealed in protest.

"Long time no see, U-ta-hi-me!" He swung her back and forth with each syllable, her legs dangling and swaying two feet above the ground.

"Satoru!" Utahime complained, her face shoved into his shoulder, trying not to think about how very large and solid his deltoids were now.

He set her down and watched her straighten her hair ribbon, his smile never leaving his face.

"Where are the others?" Utahime asked, avoiding his stare and looking up and down the sidewalk.

"Dunno," Satoru said, shrugging. "Suguru said he would pick up Shoko."

"She did mention that." Utahime checked her phone for any missed messages. She felt a tug on her ponytail and looked up to see Satoru with a lock of her hair in his hand, still smiling. "What?" she demanded.

He gave her hair another tug and then let go, stepping back and shoving his hands into the pockets of his board shorts. "Nothing."

Utahime shot off a quick text to Shoko, telling her to hurry up, and then decided that she should at least be polite to Satoru and engage in conversation.

"So," she said, casting around for a topic. "How's… school?"

Satoru laughed. "Still can't get enough of school, huh? It's fine. Easy. Finally graduating this year."

"Congrats. You're going to be valedictorian, I assume?"

"Naturally. Suguru tried to give me a run for my money, though."

"Good," Utahime said with satisfaction.

"Someone needed to, since you're not there any more," Satoru chuckled.

"I'll have to thank him for keeping you on your toes."

"How about you? How's university? Got a boyfriend yet?"

Utahime glanced at him quickly, remembering Suguru's original reason for this get-together. "Nope. Don't want one."

"Still?"

She shook her head. "As I told you before, waste of time. Boys only give you a brief good time and a headache. Usually in that order."

Although Satoru was still smiling, there was something a little strained about it now. But before Utahime could comment on it, she was hit square in the back with a blast of icy cold water. She let out a gasp as Satoru's eyes widened in surprise, and then he laughed before he, too, was hit with a stream of water straight in the face.

He spluttered and Utahime whirled around, seeing Suguru fleeing away towards the shoreline, giggling loudly, a giant neon-colored water gun in his hands.

Utahime gave a shout and chased after him, Satoru hot on her heels. He overtook her and easily caught up to Suguru, tackling him and wrestling the water gun out of his hands. Straddling Suguru's chest, Satoru turned the water gun around and shot him in the face while Suguru shouted expletives and Utahime shouted encouragement.

There was a quiet laugh behind Utahime and she turned to see Shoko watching the scene, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Shoko!" Utahime darted to her and scooped her into a hug.

"Hey, lady. Sorry about them. Suguru wanted me to join but I refused."

"Good. Don't become like them."

"Never."

They dispassionately watched the boys wrestling, lost in their own Satoru-and-Suguru world.

"Let's leave them to their bromance and find a place to sit."

Chaos reigned for the next few minutes as the girls tried to set up their area and the boys did their best to mess it up. They grappled with each other, rolling around on the sand, knocking things over, belongings tossed around. Utahime ended up with a sunscreen-spattered towel, and when Shoko tried to separate the boys, Suguru carried her off to the water to dunk her.

Utahime growled with annoyance. "Idiot boys."

"Sorry about your towel, Uta!" Satoru said cheerily, rolling up from the sand and dumping his bag next to her. "You can use mine."

"Whatever," Utahime muttered. She watched Shoko and Suguru play-fighting with each other in the water, sighing as she scooped up some of the spilled sunscreen and tried to apply it to her own back.

"I can do that for you," Satoru offered. "If you can get me too." He pulled off his shirt and Utahime quickly averted her eyes, one glance confirming that he had indeed filled out quite a bit, looking much more like a young adult than the growing teen she had known in high school.

"Uh," she hesitated, but saw no alternative to get a good coverage of sunscreen to her back. "Okay."

Satoru sat down beside her and grabbed the sunscreen bottle, dispensing a generous amount into his hand. "Sun protection is of the utmost importance," he said knowledgeably, rubbing his hands together, and Utahime snorted.

"Especially for someone as lily-white as you," Utahime said, and then gasped as Satoru laid his cold, sunscreen-covered hands onto her back.

"Sensitive, are we?"

"Shut it."

His large hands warmed her quickly and she suppressed a shiver — not one from the cold of the sunscreen, but frustratingly, one caused by Satoru's touch. He took his time, essentially caressing her back, perhaps a bit slower than was necessary, his fingers sliding under the edges of her swimsuit to ensure full coverage.

Cheeks burning, Utahime was about to complain when Satoru cheerfully said, "Done!", snapping the strap of her bikini top. "My turn." He spun around, exposing his broad back to her and holding the sunscreen bottle over his shoulder. "Baste me, baby."

"Insufferable," Utahime muttered, and she snatched the bottle out of Satoru's hand. Without any preamble, she drizzled gobs of cold sunscreen onto his shoulders. He flinched and let out a high pitched screech. "Be quiet, coward."

"Utahime, you're so mean to me," he fake-sobbed. "This is the first time I hang out with you in years and you call me names? I'm heartbroken."

Utahime rolled her eyes and rubbed in the sunscreen, trying not to think about the way his hard-muscled back felt under her hands. Satoru insisted that she get lower and lower, until her hands were practically under his waistband.

"Enough!" she said loudly, pushing him away as he snickered.

Even though she had only reluctantly agreed to the outing, the day at the beach was exactly what Utahime needed to relax and decompress. They tossed a ball around, dug holes in the sand, buried Satoru and sculpted him into a very large-chested mermaid. They played chicken, Utahime atop Satoru's shoulders, Shoko on Suguru's, each team trying to topple the other into the water.

Utahime's stomach ached from laughter. The salty waves refreshed her senses. The sun seeped into her pores, warming her from the outside in, easing the tension that she always carried during the school year.

When the cool sea waters weren't enough to stave off the heat, the four stopped by a kakigori stand, Utahime and Shoko choosing simple fruity flavors, Satoru begging the vendor to drizzle every single syrup onto his cone and as many mochi balls as could fit. Suguru chose to forgo the kakigori in favor of takoyaki, but seemed to regret the piping hot snack as sweat dripped down his temple and he eyed Satoru's shaved ice longingly. Once he finished his takoyaki, he stood behind Satoru, head butting him gently on the back of the head until Satoru held his cone over his shoulder and let Suguru take a bite.

As Utahime spooned her pineapple-flavored ice into her mouth and Satoru tried to eat three mochi at once, Suguru caught her eye from behind Satoru. He held up his hands, one making a circle, the other with his pointer finger extended, and he made an obscene gesture, tilting his head pointedly at Satoru.

Utahime felt her face ignite. She swallowed her shaved ice a little too quickly, causing her to choke and then wince as her whole head froze painfully. Satoru raised an eyebrow at her and then turned to look at Suguru, who quickly rearranged his hands and pretended to fix his hair.

Suguru grinned and said, "Sheesh, Uta, I know I'm beautiful but there's no need to get all choked up when you look at me."

Satoru elbowed him in the stomach, but laughed and said, "She's pretty weak to the likes of us."

Utahime tutted and turned away to hide her reddened face as Suguru said to Satoru, "No one said you were beautiful, SpongeBob."

"SpongeBob? The fuck?"

"You've got freaky long eyelashes like SpongeBob."

"Girls love my eyelashes, dude…"

Utahime left the bickering boys to take refuge with Shoko, who was sitting on a nearby bench in the shade, rubbing her ankle.

"You okay?" Utahime asked, plopping down next to her.

"Yeah. My ankle kind of hurts, that's all. Suguru got a little over-enthusiastic while we were playing chicken."

"Dumb boys," Utahime muttered, and Shoko nodded mournfully, though Utahime noticed a fond glimmer in her eyes when she glanced over at them.

After another hour of sunning, swimming, and snacking, the sun crept low in the sky and Utahime was eager to get going. They still needed to have dinner and get changed before the party, and she knew that the boys could spend forever eating if they were left to their own devices.

Belongings packed up, they were trudging across the cooling sand, Utahime in the lead, when there was a thump and a soft cry from behind her.

She turned, seeing Shoko on the ground, holding her leg, Suguru crouching next to her.

"It's her ankle," Suguru said. "Probably sprained."

Utahime hurried to Shoko's side, inspecting her ankle. "It doesn't look swollen or anything," she said, gently touching the top of Shoko's foot. Shoko sucked in a pained breath through her teeth and Utahime immediately pulled her hand back. "Sorry!"
"She shouldn't walk on it," Suguru said, his tone unusually authoritative. "I can take her home. It was my fault anyway."

Utahime nodded. "I can come with—"

"No," Shoko interrupted quickly. "Suguru's right, it was his fault, so he should take responsibility. And you have that important party to get to."

"But…" Utahime furrowed her brow. "I was counting on you guys to be there. That was… that was the plan." She'd been about to say 'that was the deal ' but she wasn't sure how informed Shoko was about her and Suguru's agreement.

"I'm sorry, Uta," Shoko said, patting her hand. "You know I'd be there in a heartbeat if I could. But you should still go. You gotta make good connections, right?"

Utahime met Shoko's gaze, conflicted, and then sighed. "Yeah. I guess I'll just have to brave it alone."

Shoko smiled, encouraging and apologetic.

"I can still go."

Everyone turned to look at Satoru, who was standing off to the side, watching the scene.

"I'm still available," he said.

There was a momentary silence, and then Utahime said, "Uh… no. That's—"

"That's a great idea," Suguru said loudly. "Oh shit, sorry, Sho!" He'd slapped his hand enthusiastically down onto Shoko's ankle, and she'd recoiled, but Utahime noticed that her reaction was — suspiciously — just a tad delayed. Suguru facepalmed himself and said, "Ah, clumsy me, I should get her home and get some ice on that ankle."

Skepticism crept into Utahime's consciousness at Suguru's hastiness, but before she could say anything, he had hoisted Shoko up, belongings and all, walking swiftly away and calling back, "Have fun at the party, you two!"

He was already too far away for Utahime to protest, the sand churning under his feet. Shoko looked at her sheepishly over Suguru's shoulder, mouthing, "Sorry!" as she was whisked away.

Utahime remained kneeling on the sand, watching them in disbelief. Suguru had broken their deal; they'd left her alone for her party. Alone, save for—

"So where's this party happening?" Satoru asked cheerfully.

Having dinner alone with Satoru was definitely not something that Utahime had planned for, nor something that she ever thought she'd find herself doing. But there was no way to get rid of him, and he seemed very enthusiastic about attending the party with her. So she steeled herself, determined to keep her cool and make a good impression at the party, or at least not embarrass herself.

When deciding on where to eat, Satoru insisted that they dine at a patisserie that had been recommended to him by a junior boy at the high school. Utahime was skeptical about having dinner at a bakery, but Satoru wouldn't have it any other way.

"Are you sure about this?" Utahime had asked as they stood outside of the shop, the display window lined with sugary tarts and glazed pies. "Will we be able to eat an actual dinner and not just fill up on sweets?"

"Trust me," Satoru had replied. "A recommendation from Nanami is not to be missed."

Sure enough, the patisserie sold plenty of savory scones, meat-filled buns, and, of course, a wide assortment of sweet pastries.

They ate their fill of dinner-appropriate foods, and then Satoru piled their table high with donuts and tarts and fruit-filled croissants. Utahime was repulsed by so much excess, but it was actually entertaining to watch Satoru stuff pastry after pastry into his mouth, sugar scattering everywhere, sprinkling their table like crystalline glitter. She indulged herself with a couple of small jam cookies, but refused anything more that Satoru tried to push onto her. She definitely didn't have as much of a sweet tooth as he did.

As he ate, Satoru watched people passing the bakery outside, creating silly voices and dialogue for them, putting them into ludicrous scenarios. As much as she wanted to scowl at his goofiness, Utahime couldn't help giggling, and then outright laughing. Eventually she even joined in, pointing out couples for Satoru to give voices to, and choosing which sweets he would eat next.

In fact, she was having so much fun that she lost track of time and suddenly realized that they were late for the party.

"Oh my god, we are so behind schedule!" she fussed, her good mood dissipating. She snatched up her bag, scanning the patisserie quickly. "We're going to have to change here. I'll be right back." She made a beeline for the bathroom, leaving Satoru at their sugar-covered table.

She wished she could have swung by her apartment, or even the campus gym, for a quick shower to rinse the sand and ocean smell off her body. But there was no time to waste, so she slipped into a skirt, throwing a creamy knit sweater over her flowy beach top, changing out her sandals for some sensible flats. She was grateful she'd thought to bring her extra clothes with her — she'd be too embarrassed to show her face at the party looking like she had just come from the beach.

In front of the bathroom mirror, she released her ponytail, combing through her salty, tangled tresses as best she could with her fingers. She tied her hair into pigtails, reapplied a generous amount of deodorant, and rushed back out to the table.

Satoru was still wearing the same clothes — black shirt and board shorts, sunglasses on top of his head. He appeared to not have moved at all, except that there was now a large take-out bag on the table in front of him.

"Are you not changing?" Utahime asked. "What is that? Did you buy more sweets?"

"Snacks for the train," Satoru replied happily. "And no, I'm comfy in this. I look good in anything. Besides, you'll look that much more professional and connection-worthy next to me."

Not wishing to argue, Utahime took a moment for a steadying breath, then said, "Whatever. Let's go."

It was a short train ride to the university and then a brief walk to the residence where the party was being held, Satoru munching on his sweets the entire way. They slipped inside the party without a fuss, Utahime doing her best to look like she belonged, Satoru as breezy and relaxed as ever. He was keenly interested in a building full of university students, and smiled brightly at everyone who looked his way.

The gathering turned out to be much more casual than Utahime had assumed. She thought that it would be a semi-formal event for networking student-professionals, but there was dance club music playing in one room, a game of very noisy Twister being played in another, and in the kitchen, snacks and drinks (most of which were of the alcoholic kind) for everyone.

A girl greeted them enthusiastically, holding out a tray of mini sausages, of which Satoru eagerly partook.

"Haven't you eaten enough tonight?" Utahime muttered.

"Never pass up free food, Uta," Satoru advised her. "As a university student, you should know that by now."

"He's right, you know," the girl said, winking at Satoru, who smiled sweetly at her before she giggled and moved away.

"Please don't do that here," Utahime said.

"Do what?"

"Flirt with everything that moves. I go to school with these people. I don't need relationship drama with my peers."

Satoru just laughed. "Oh, Uta. Loosen up, will ya? Have yourself a beer." He tossed her a can of beer that he'd swiped from the kitchen and she caught it, grumbling to herself.

Utahime had recently come of age to consume alcohol legally, but besides the small cup of sake that her parents had bought her for her birthday dinner, she didn't drink much, and hadn't ever had beer. She eyed the can in her hand somewhat dubiously before shrugging and opening it, figuring that it couldn't hurt to have some assistance letting go of her inhibitions.

The beer was cold and bitter, bubbling and crackling down her throat, warming her stomach. She wasn't sure if she liked it at first, but after the second sip, she decided that she loved it. It was sharp, yet smooth; tangy and tasty. Satoru babbled on as she sipped, and when she got halfway through the can, starting to feel like her head was somehow sparkling, she tried to pinpoint what the beer and its effects reminded her of. It was futile, as Satoru's voice kept poking into her thoughts.

"So what's the goal here?" he asked as Utahime refocused onto him.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you at this party?"

"You know why I'm here. To make connections."

"You're only talking to me though," he pointed out. "Who do you want to make connections with?"

"I—" she paused, gathering her rapidly scattering thoughts. "Anyone who's part of a music club, I suppose. There's an acapella group I've been wanting to join."

"Well you're not gonna get anywhere just standing here," Satoru said, pushing off the wall and tapping her on the forehead with a finger. "And there's a table tennis match in the next room that's calling my name, so I'll catch ya later." He left her standing awkwardly outside the kitchen, irritatedly rubbing her forehead.

She did come here to meet people, so she turned to the nearest person and introduced herself, doing her best to block out the sight and sound of Satoru loudly playing table tennis in the adjoining room. Though it probably would have been better if she kept an eye on him, she couldn't fully focus on interacting with people if she was worried that Satoru would get himself into trouble. So she trusted that he could behave himself, and concentrated on meeting her peers.

When she saw Satoru again about half an hour later, he was holding a cup filled with some sort of dark beverage. He raised it up to her in a toast and she eyed it suspiciously.

"That's not alcohol, is it?" she asked. "You're very underage."

Satoru laughed. "Worried for me? That's cute."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not. If you get caught, you'll probably just talk your way out of it like usual."

"Very true. But no need to worry your sweet little head, it's just soda. Alcohol tastes like ass."

"No, it doesn't!" Utahime said, affronted. "How would you even know what ass tastes like?"

Satoru grinned devilishly. "Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies."

Repulsed, Utahime made a gagging face just as a few guys approached them. She recognized one of them as the President of the acapella club — a group that Utahime very much wanted to join. She had missed the auditions two years in a row due to her heavy class schedule, but she made sure to see performances whenever she could, and thus could recognize every member. She had tried to speak to the President on a couple occasions but he'd always brushed her off, supposedly too busy to stop for a chat.

"Oh my god, be cool," she hissed to Satoru in warning. "This guy is the—"

"'Sup, Gojo," the President said to Satoru.

"Hello, Mr. President," Satoru replied, grinning.

Utahime's eyes darted between them. "You… know each other?"

The President chuckled amiably. "Yeah, we go way back. About ten minutes back, right?"

"Might be more like fifteen. Losing your mind, old man?" Satoru was as comfortable as if they were lifelong friends. He turned to Utahime, who was mildly disturbed by his bordering-on-rudeness familiarity with someone she was desperate to impress. "We met at the snack table," he told her.

"Is this the friend you mentioned?" the President asked, seemingly unbothered by Satoru's attitude.

"The one and only Utahime," Satoru confirmed.

"Gojo tells me you're interested in our group," the President said to Utahime. "If you're as impressive a singer as he is then we'd love to have you audition."

"Um… as he is?" Utahime asked, apprehension blooming in her stomach.

"He gave us a little rendition of Total Eclipse Of The Heart. Very stirring." The President bowed his head mournfully as he put a fist to his chest, Satoru chuckling quietly next to her.

"Oh. Well… Yes, I… I'd definitely like to audition," Utahime said, her apprehension shifting to annoyance targeted directly at Satoru. That was her favorite song to sing at karaoke, and he knew it.

"Great! Shoot me an email and we can arrange it." He handed her a card with his contact info. "And Gojo," he said, turning to Satoru. "You've got a spot in the group if you decide to come to this school. I can put in a good word with the admissions department." He shot finger guns at Satoru, who did the same back, and then the President departed with his entourage.

"Dweeb," Satoru muttered under his breath, sipping his soda.

Utahime rounded on him, whisper-shouting, "Why did you do that?"

Satoru raised an eyebrow. "What? He is a dweeb. Never met someone as dweeb-like as—"

"Not that." Utahime waved her hand dismissively. She couldn't care less about Satoru's opinions on people.

"Then what?"

"Why did you talk to him?! Why did you tell him about me?! And why did you sing my song?!"

"I thought you wanted to join them?"

"I do! But I don't need your help." Being indebted to Satoru was not something that Utahime wanted.

"Really?" Satoru asked lightly. "Then why aren't you in their club?"

"I… I've been busy."

"Then maybe you do need my help."

Utahime's temper boiled. She slammed her drink onto a table, beer sloshing over her hand. "You don't even go here!"

Satoru placidly observed her dripping hand and said, "But you've been here for two years, and you're still trying to make friends. I can't help it if I'm more impressive than you, Uta. Also, a bit of advice: girls win more friends when they're nice."

Utahime's mouth dropped open. She closed it, and then opened it again, sucking in a furious breath. "You… you are so…" She couldn't form a coherent thought, much less a comprehensible sentence. "Why — singing for them? What kind of—? How can you—?" After a couple more failed attempts to make her displeasure known, she stormed off, tottering slightly with the effects of the beer. She snatched another can from the kitchen as she passed through, heading as far away from Satoru as possible.

On the opposite side of the house, she took a few minutes to drink several mouthfuls of beer and breathe steadily through her nose. She allowed herself to fume, to hate every hair on Satoru's beautiful head, and then she gathered herself.

Screw Satoru and his effortless ability to befriend people. Utahime was well-liked, and didn't have issues with anyone. Unlike Satoru, who, while able to turn on his charisma like no other, was widely known for his exasperating personality once one got to know him. Suguru and Shoko were the only people Utahime knew who could withstand him for long periods of time.

Satoru wasn't better than her. She didn't need him. She could do anything by herself.

When she had control of her temper again, she turned back to the party, put on a smile, and set out to make some friends.

But as the night wore on, and the closest she got to making a real connection was the brief conversation with the President of the acapella club, she had to face the difficult truth. People were nice to her, they spoke to her, and she thought some even liked her — but they did not adore her as they did Satoru. They didn't hang onto her every word, gaze at her undeniable beauty, fall over themselves to get her attention.

Defeated, Utahime went outside, the cool evening air a balm to her irritation. She weaved through the partiers in the backyard and sat on a bench by herself, taking a swig from her third beer.

She knew she was sulking. She couldn't help it.

It was all Satoru's fault. It was always his fault. Coming here with him was a mistake. She should have bailed when Shoko and Suguru decided to betray her.

Utahime downed the rest of her beer, the empty can falling out of her hand and clanging to the ground. She closed her eyes, letting her head drop back, her body feeling like it was swirling down a drainpipe. She may have enjoyed the feeling another time, but at the moment she just felt sick.

"Utahime."

She clenched her jaw, Satoru's voice the last thing she wanted to hear. "What do you want," she said dully, keeping her eyes closed.

"I think we should get you home," Satoru said, his voice edging closer. He sounded amused.

"I can go by myself." The words came out harsh and brittle, her feelings of inadequacy and jealousy bleeding through.

"That's doubtful. I'll help you."

She scoffed. "I don't need your help."

"I think we have proven tonight that you do, in fact, need my help."

Abruptly, Utahime felt herself being lifted up. Her eyes flew open just as Satoru flipped her onto his shoulder, his scapula digging into her stomach, her head hanging upside down along his back, his arms holding her legs against his chest.

"Gojo Satoru, put me down right now!" she squawked, lungs compressing and stomach threatening to upend itself onto his shirt. She beat him on the back with closed fists, but he only laughed.

"Could you do that a little higher? I've got a knot in my trapezius," he chuckled.

She struggled against him, kicking her feet to little effect.

"Don't cause a scene, Uta," Satoru said, walking her back into the house.

"You're causing the scene!" Utahime snarled, hitting his lower back again.

"Careful, you might punch out a fart, and your head is in a very unfortunate location." He strode through the house and Utahime hid her face, embarrassed, as people laughed at the sight of her. She heard a few girls sighing, "Ah, lucky her," and Utahime wanted to tell them that she'd gladly switch places. She really hoped that no one important was watching.

Satoru retrieved both of their bags and strode right out of the house, but instead of letting her down, he simply kept walking, humming as he carried her like a sack of potatoes. Utahime wiggled under his grip, but the beer had rendered her uncoordinated, and Satoru's new muscles were too strong for her to break.

Eventually she gave up, letting her body slacken while Satoru carried her back towards the university campus. He was humming Total Eclipse of the Heart, his voice vibrating through his shoulder into her belly.

Her mood soured, but as her mind drifted on alcohol-fueled clouds, her curiosity was piqued. She wondered about the little performance that he had given to the acapella club President, and she resentfully listened to his humming, judging his pitch. It was, of course, perfect.

Satoru, sensing that she'd finally stopped fighting him, paused to put her down.

"Sing it," Utahime demanded, wobbling a little as she regained her balance, tugging her bag out of Satoru's grip.

"What?"

"Sing that song. I want to hear it."

Satoru raised an eyebrow at her, but — ever the exhibitionist — he obliged. He continued walking as he sang a portion of the third verse from the song — Utahime's favorite verse.

"Every now and then I know there's no one in the universe as magical and wondrous as you."

Utahime wished that the sound of his singing voice didn't send pleasant shivers across her skin, but she couldn't stop it from happening.

"Every now and then I know there's nothing any better—"

"Why do you have to be so good at everything ?" Utahime interrupted him. She couldn't stand to listen to him any more. She meant for the question to be disdainful, but it seemed that the beer had made her more honest and forthright than usual, not to mention a bit melancholy. "I tried to make so many friends at that party and no one gave a crap about me."

Satoru snickered. "I'm just a superior human being. But, hey, I've got a shitty personality to make up for it."

Utahime let out a single laugh. "No argument here."

They'd made it to the main campus, the footpaths deserted save for a few rabbits that scampered away as they approached. A light breeze rustled through the tall trees, pushing dry leaves across their path. Utahime's apartment was about a twenty minute walk away — hopefully enough to clear up her head and burn off more alcohol before sleep. At the moment, the trees and ground were swirling and swaying no matter how straight she walked.

A crunching sound broke through the momentary silence. Satoru was tossing hard candies into his mouth, chomping on them as if they were food, the scent of strawberry mint wafting over to Utahime. She shook her head, not even bothering to ask where he got the candy from.

"You know… sometimes it is hard for me," Satoru said quietly.

He spoke in a tone that Utahime had rarely heard: he was serious.

"What do you mean?" she asked, annoyance tempered by his unusual manner.

"Well… as you may know, it's tough being at the top. It's a little lonely." Satoru slid his hands into his pockets, and out of the corner of her eye Utahime watched him staring at the ground.

"You have Suguru," Utahime pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess," Satoru said, shrugging. "It still gets tiring. And I do get nervous about losing everything."

Utahime had to laugh. "You? Nervous?"

He joined her in a chuckle. "Strange, right?" He sighed, looking up into the dense foliage above. "At the same time, I'm restless. I want to get out, but I'm helplessly stuck in school."

She was about to reply when Satoru said the most unexpected thing yet.

"Sometimes I get so angry I could cry."

Utahime almost tripped. The thought of Satoru exhibiting those kinds of emotions was… well, it was unthinkable. "Really?" Utahime asked softly, gently.

He smiled weakly. "Terrifying, huh?"

Utahime lifted her hand, intending to place it upon his arm in consolation, but he spoke again.

"Every now and then I fall apart."

It suddenly clicked. Everything he'd been saying for the last two minutes. She yanked her hand back and whirled to him in fury just as he threw open his arms, strawberry candies scattering everywhere, and burst into song.

"And I need you now tonight!"

"Satoru!"

He was smiling broadly at her as he sang at the top of his lungs. "And I need you more than ever!"

"Stop it!" Utahime shushed him, concerned that campus security would come and write them up for disturbing the peace, and frustrated that she'd let him trick her into thinking he was actually having trouble in his life, not cleverly inserting song lyrics into their conversation.

"And if you only hold me tight!" Satoru continued, gesturing for Utahime to join him, dancing around her. He really was good at singing, and it angered Utahime further. She loved that song. It was her song, and he knew it.

Satoru carried on, spinning, wrapping his arms around himself, projecting upwards into the trees, "We'll be holding on forever!"

Utahime had enough. She was the singer here, and she wouldn't let Satoru forget it. If campus security came to discipline them, she'd make Satoru take the fall. She belted out the next line.

"And we'll only be making it right!"

Satoru lit up with glee, whooping and whistling as if he were in the audience at a concert, tossing candy at her.

"Cause we'll never be wrong—"

Satoru joined her, picking up on, "Together we can take it to the end of the line!"

He was a harmony to her melody, their voices intertwining as they sang the rest of the chorus. By the end of the second 'Forever's gonna start tonight' Utahime was smiling, her lungs and throat enjoying the feeling of singing with reckless abandon.

Satoru pulled on one of her pigtails. "Hey. I'm sorry for talking to that acapella dweeb. Well, actually, not really, not if it helps you get into their club. But I'm sorry for making you mad."

He'd never apologized for anything, as far as Utahime could remember. She wasn't sure whether to believe him or not, but her temper had softened, and she was now feeling both benevolent and a little sassy.

"I'll only forgive you if I actually do get into the club."

Satoru shook her pigtail as if it were her hand. "Deal."

They were five minutes out from her apartment now. Utahime hoisted her bag higher onto her shoulder. She could see the building a couple blocks away, but she suddenly felt unbearably tired. She groaned, dragging her feet, the remaining walk seeming impossible to finish.

Chuckling, Satoru asked, "Want a piggyback?"

"And be indebted to you again? No, thank you. I've had enough of you carrying me around like a piece of luggage." She dug through her bag to find her keys, her hands still clumsy, the bag straps slipping off her shoulder. She stopped walking; the task required her full attention.

"Hey, just so you know…" Satoru said, holding her bag's straps and steadying it for her while she searched. "You did make an impression on people at that party. You just didn't notice because you were so mad at me."

"Huh?" Utahime's hand closed around the cool metal of her keys. "What do you mean?"

"I overheard people talking about you. 'The girl with the cute pigtails' and 'the really nice voice major' and such. Some girls even wanted to invite you to karaoke but you were pouting in a corner and they couldn't find you."

She scrutinized him. "You're not lying, are you?"

"Would I lie?"

"Yes."

"Okay, fair. But I'm not lying about this. Trust me."

If Satoru was indeed telling the truth, all her efforts hadn't been for nothing. She just hoped she could remember at least one person's name so she could look them up and further the connection.

Her mood improved a notch. She looked up at Satoru, considering him, that majestic feeling overtaking her. "Turn around, bright eyes."

Satoru laughed and did as she said. Utahime took a great leap onto his back, latching her arms around his neck, wrapping her legs around his waist. He gave an "Oof!" and hooked his arms under her legs, hefting her more comfortably into a piggyback while crooning, "Every now and then I fall apart!"

He jogged the rest of the way to the apartment, Utahime complaining as she was jostled around painfully on his back.

The walk had done very little to help her spinning head, the piggyback even less, and as they entered the apartment building and Satoru let her down, she wanted nothing more than to sleep for a very long time.

"I am so tired!" Utahime proclaimed loudly, voice echoing in the hallway. "I'm going straight to bed!"

She stripped off her skirt as soon as she got into her room, stumbling out of the fabric, Satoru darting forward to catch her before she fell. He laughed as he steadied her, propping her up against the bedroom wall.

"Maybe don't skip leg day, huh?" Satoru teased. "I won't always be around to catch you."

Utahime looked at him blearily, his face unexpectedly close to hers, and she vividly remembered her high school graduation party, looking up at him in a similar way, wondering if she'd ever meet someone as handsome as him.

Her legs weakening, Utahime slid down the wall, Satoru going along with her even though he could have easily held her up. They slumped against the wall, Satoru's arm still around her waist. He shifted so that he was slightly in front of her, looking up at her, highly amused.

"Want me to carry you to bed?" he asked. "I don't think the floor is a comfortable place to sleep."

Utahime scoffed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To take me to bed?" She wondered if he took her real meaning as he smiled crookedly.

"I cannot deny that."

Fire roiled in her stomach. "Just like high school," Utahime complained. "You wanted me so bad back then." She tilted her head to the side, glaring, looking at him beneath her lashes. "And you still want me."

His irises seemed to ignite with blue flame. "As I said, I cannot deny that." He brought his other arm around her, essentially cradling her, hugging her against the wall.

Utahime pushed her lips into a pout, attempting to mock him. "Just a horny teenage boy," she said in a singsong baby voice, her puckered lips smooshing her words. "You wanna make out with me. You wanna kiss me, huh? You wanna stick your tongue in my—"

Satoru suddenly leaned forward, pressing his lips against Utahime's in a hard kiss, his arms tightening around her. Utahime's eyes widened in surprise, her slow brain taken aback by the abrupt turn of events. It took her a moment to register what was actually happening, and by that point she found that she was already kissing Satoru back, their lips mashing together, her hand seeming to move on its own to hold the side of his face, pulling him in closer.

Dear lord, he was a good kisser. Had he always been this good? She remembered some messy kisses from him, especially in the beginning, but she also remembered not caring, being overtaken with desire whenever things got hot and heavy with him — a feeling that she hadn't experienced with anyone in quite a while.

And now he was kissing her like she'd never been kissed before. His tongue tasted like strawberry and mint, his lips still salty from the beach, and she could do nothing to restrain herself, nothing to stop kissing him, nothing to hold in a quiet whimper of pleasure. She was not tired any longer. She wanted him — needed him.

Satoru was holding onto her firmly, but it was Utahime who pushed him back, crawling over him, pressing her body to his as she kissed him.

The next few minutes became a mess of hands and lips and skin and tongues. Satoru's new physique was sublime, Utahime unable to resist sliding her palms over his arms, his pecs, his abs.

"We should give you alcohol more often if this is how you're going to behave," Satoru laughed quietly as Utahime straddled him more comfortably, pelvis to pelvis.

She felt his arousal against her groin, and she pushed against him, breathlessly asking, "Do you want to…?"

Satoru gave a huff of laughter, his fingers digging into her thighs. "Always."

Within moments, Satoru had shed his shirt and shorts and then busied himself with extricating Utahime from her sweater. It took some time, what with Utahime's muscles feeling like jelly and her struggle to keep kissing Satoru.

"Lemme—hey—baby, come on," he mumbled, a mildly amused frustration cutting through his voice as he freed one of her arms from her sleeve, the bulk of the sweater still wrapped around her neck, Utahime's lips searching for his. "Let's just—get this—off." He managed to get the sweater over her head between kisses and flung it away, lifting Utahime back over him as he reclined on the floor.

The air was cool against Utahime's skin, but she was burning, the edges of her being tingling and sizzling, her head filled with the scent of the ocean, sweet peppermint, and him…

She wanted it fast. She wanted it rough and deep, nail-clawing and breathless, right there on the floor, feeling a sense of safety and trust with Satoru that she'd never felt with anyone else.

But Satoru had other ideas.

"Babe, slow down," he murmured, strong hands gripping her hips as she ground into him, stilling her, preventing her from moving.

"Why?" Utahime whined, hating the sound of her desperate voice, but unable to wrest control through the haze of alcohol and desire.

Satoru gave a chuckle from deep in his chest, edged with a throaty groan that sent sparks into Utahime's bones. "I want to enjoy you," he said quietly against her lips, and Utahime went still, like a rabbit caught in a wolf's gaze, waiting with tensed limbs for the next move.

Slowly, Satoru sat up, an arm around Utahime's waist, rotating around to lay her back, pressing lingering kisses to her neck as he hovered above her. She breathed unevenly, her hands itching to grab onto him and force him to move faster.

But he took his time with her.

Utahime didn't know where he'd gained the self-control, and where hers seemed to have gone, but he was sensual and attentive and entirely, maddeningly, irresistible.

He removed her underwear slowly without looking, then his own, kissing her all the while. Suspended above her, elbows caging her head, the warmth of his unclothed body radiated into hers.

She felt a wet coolness on her belly and glanced down. He was at full attention, bigger than she remembered, leaking onto her, obviously just as aroused as she was. It drove her mad.

Huskily she breathed, "Inside, Satoru, please."

Satoru obliged.

He'd never made love like this before. Utahime could think of no other way to describe it — making love. Before, they'd simply been "having sex". This was… something else.

But it was all a bit muddled, and Utahime couldn't be sure if it was the alcohol making her feel as if she were simultaneously underwater and in a dream. An underwater dream, where Satoru was the water and he surrounded her, buoyed her, snuck into every crevice, filled her and quenched her.

It didn't help that he smelled like the sea, his motions rhythmic and steady, unyielding and strong. Breath was forced from her lungs in gasps, moans, cries. He was the push and pull of incessant ocean tides; he was a hot spring, warm and comforting. His eyes were the crystal blue of a glacial forest stream, his hands the gentle caress of misting rain.

When she reached her peak, she crested over the top of it and plunged deep, and it was less like a strike of lightning, fleeting and sharp, but more like a tsunami: persistent and unstoppable, slow and relentless and powerful and gushing.

Satoru followed shortly after, pulling out and expending himself on her stomach with a groan, his forehead pressed against hers, sharing breath. Waves of pleasure continued to ripple throughout Utahime's body and she blinked slowly up at him in a daze.

Satoru panted above her, unsmiling, staring intently at her. The usual bright galaxy in his eyes was gone, replaced with a flatness and disconnection as if he were deep in thought. Utahime was reminded of the rare moments where he'd struggled to solve a difficult math problem, brow furrowed, gears turning silently. But then, his mouth quirked up at the corner in a grin, and he chuckled suddenly, the starlight returning to his eyes.

"Still got it," he said. Utahime was unsure whether he was referring to her or to himself, but he leaned down to kiss her and she quickly forgot the comment.

He rolled off her, sprawling next to her on the floor, stretching his long limbs. Utahime vaguely considered getting up to clean herself, but apathy and exhaustion had taken hold of her, so she continued to just lay there.

"We should do this again sometime," Satoru said into the darkness of her room.

"Do what?" Utahime asked limply.

"You know, this." He reached over and patted the top of her pubic mound. "I mean, we're so good at it."

Utahime huffed a laugh.

"No, really." Satoru stretched again, Utahime watching his abdominal muscles flex in the dim light. "Don't think about it too hard. Just… whenever you need to… y'know… I'm only a text away."

Skepticism edged her response. "What, friends with benefits? Seriously?"

"I'm game if you are. Fuck buddies. No strings. You down?"

Two days later, Utahime was reviewing the first draft of an essay when she received a text. It was from Suguru, and it contained only two words and an emoticon.

Thank you :)

Two Years Later

The beginning of a new school year always excited Utahime. New books, new pens and paper and highlighters, new classes to dive into. This time, however, she'd be experiencing the new school year from a different angle: as a teacher.

She'd been hired by her old alma mater, Jujutsu Tech, straight out of graduating university. She had gotten other job offers from various institutions, but she just couldn't pass up the opportunity to teach music at her old high school, not when Principal Gakuganji had practically begged her (as much as a senile old man can beg) to return. But it would not be for the Principal that she would teach; Utahime's love of music and song was so strong that she wanted to pass it on to the younger generations, to mold their minds with the goodness of sound, the beauty of auditory art. Plenty of studies had shown that when students incorporate learning music into their daily lives, their other skills improve due to the rewiring of the brain, new pathways forming connections that simply couldn't be formed another way.

Utahime now had the task of planning lessons, deciding level-appropriate exercises and assignments, and choosing instruments to purchase for her classroom.

It was seven in the evening, she'd just finished clearing away her dinner, and her dining table was covered with a spread of various papers: schedules, purchase orders, sheet music.

She was just getting into the meat of a history lesson on musical terms when her phone chimed with a text notification — a double bell sound that was assigned specifically to a certain blue-eyed devil. It could be one of two things: either he was texting something idiotic that she would pointedly ignore, or he wanted to cash in yet again on the "benefits" part of their "friends with benefits". The potential for the second reason had Utahime's gut twisting in anticipation, and she eagerly (with a touch of disgust at herself) looked at the text.

It was neither.

Satoru was asking her to come outside.

Sighing in mild annoyance that he was now showing up at her home unannounced, Utahime left her lesson plans, sliding into a light jacket as she went outside.

Satoru was now in his second year of university, still obnoxious and self-satisfied, still the most handsome boy Utahime had ever seen. They'd hung out more frequently in the past couple years, usually as a group with Suguru and Shoko. And of course, they'd also meet privately, either at Utahime's apartment or Satoru's parents' home when it was empty. Sometimes in Satoru's car, hidden away in a dark parking garage. Their deal was a badly-kept secret within the gang, but the topic was blessedly avoided in group settings.

Satoru was pacing in front of his car, his hair tousled more than usual, opening and closing his phone frenetically.

"What's up?" Utahime called, and he hurried over to her, looking both excited and nervous.

"I need your help."

"This is a first," Utahime said sarcastically.

Satoru ignored her and asked, "What do kids eat?"

Utahime blinked at him, nonplussed. "What?"

"I tried offering them lollipops but the girl said they needed 'real' food."

"Wha— Who? What girl? What kids?"

Satoru turned and gestured to his car. "Them."

Utahime could just make out two small figures in the back seat: a small girl watching her curiously, and a younger, messy-haired boy who was looking very unimpressed.

"Satoru!" Utahime hissed. "Whose kids are those? Did you kidnap them?"

Satoru just laughed. "Of course not. Well, I don't think so. I rescued them."

"Y–you… what?"

"Don't worry about it. They were in a rough situation. I'm helping. They'll be staying with me now. But I need to know what they eat. And drink, I guess. You think I could give them one of those rabbit water bottles? That'll keep 'em hydrated for a couple days, right?"

Utahime could barely contain her alarm. "And are you going to shove them in a cage lined with wood chips at home? Satoru, what are you doing?"

"Relax, Uta," he said blithely. "I've already started making arrangements for them. I just need to know what they eat."

"Why don't you try asking their parents?"

"That's, ah…" Satoru rubbed the back of his neck. "That won't be possible. So whaddya think? Would cheeseburgers work?"

Utahime wondered if Satoru had gone too far this time. She was morbidly curious about why the kids' parents were not involved, but she was afraid to ask. He was known to be impulsive, oftentimes selfish. She didn't think Satoru had done anything… nefarious… but who could say?

He was watching her expectantly, waiting for her help.

Utahime wasn't entirely sure how to feed a couple of kids, but she was certain that Satoru knew even less. Even if she told him what to get, she didn't trust that he'd be able to find the correct food in the correct amounts. The fast food that Satoru usually ate would do in a pinch, but the kids needed proper nutrition.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, silently debating. Then she sighed and said, "Bring them inside. I can give you twenty minutes of my time."

Utahime quickly cleared off her dining table as Satoru herded the kids into her home. She prepared two small plates from her leftover dinner — homemade yakisoba. Satoru gazed longingly at the noodles and Utahime rolled her eyes, preparing a third plate for him.

Both children ate politely, the girl introducing herself as Tsumiki, thanking Utahime sweetly and nudging the boy for him to do the same.

"Thank you," the boy mumbled, still looking thoroughly unimpressed with the goings-on. He clung close to the girl, but he didn't seem scared to be in a stranger's home, eating a stranger's dinner.

"Megumi doesn't talk much," Tsumiki informed Utahime.

"That's okay," Utahime assured them. "Some people talk way too much." She looked pointedly at Satoru, who had practically inhaled his yakisoba and was now typing obliviously on his phone. "Satoru," she said, and he grunted in response without looking up. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

He followed her into her bedroom and she closed the door halfway, just enough to give them some privacy but still keep an eye on the kids.

"It's gonna have to be quick," Satoru said absentmindedly, snapping his phone closed and starting to unbutton his pants. "I've got my mom preparing some rooms for them and she—"

"What are you doing?!" Utahime hissed, slapping his hands away from his pants.

Satoru looked up at her. "Oh, I thought you wanted to—"

"At a time like this? With those children in the next room?"

He shrugged, buttoning his pants again.

"Satoru, what is your plan here? I won't pry about how these kids came to be your responsibility, but please tell me you have some kind of plan." Utahime stared him straight in the eyes, willing him to be truthful with her.

He smiled down at her almost pityingly. "Of course I have a plan. I'm not an idiot." Utahime raised her eyebrows doubtfully and he laughed. "Okay, maybe a little idiotic. But you needn't worry. My family's already involved and you know they've got all the connections and resources I could possibly want."

"Well, that's a relief." If his parents were aware of the situation, perhaps things weren't as disconcerting as she thought. "Then can I just ask… why?"

Satoru considered the question. "Like I said earlier, they were in a rough situation and I wanted to help. I couldn't leave them hanging. I… kind of feel responsible. Both for them and for their situation."

The response was still vaguely cryptic, but seemed genuine. Utahime's heart gave an unexpected tug. For someone usually so egocentric, taking a couple of kids under his wing was particularly selfless.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Utahime said, concurrently impressed and worried.

"Even if I don't," he said, smiling at her again. "That's what I've got you for, right?"

Notes:

Thank you so much for the love and support that this fic continues to receive! I'm absolutely honored and can't wait to finish it.

And yes, I will be extending by another two chapters. :)

Chapter 6: Dirty Little Secret

Summary:

In which we learn more about Utahime's embarrassing secret, Satoru is Satoru, Utahime gets drunk (again), and Suguru (again) plays wingman.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"Okay. Talk."

Shoko set a bottle of beer onto the kitchen table in front of Utahime, prying off the cap with a katana-shaped bottle opener. It was early in the afternoon and they were in Shoko's apartment, one day after she had discovered Utahime's darkest, most embarrassing secret. Utahime had hoped that she would forget about it, but immediately after Shoko had finished her shift at the hospital, she had summoned Utahime to her apartment and demanded an explanation.

Utahime sighed, avoiding eye contact, and took a large swig from the beer. "One bottle won't help to unseal my lips."

"I've got a whole case," Shoko said, settling into a chair with a cup of steaming coffee. "Every IPA from your favorite brewery. And I've got all afternoon."

"But…" Utahime glanced around the apartment, searching for any kind of excuse. "Isn't Suguru going to be home soon?" He and his two adopted daughters had recently moved in with Shoko. Utahime noted the evidence of him everywhere: whiskey glasses in the sink, a bin full of skateboard parts and tools, piles of his destroyed skate shoes near the door, framed photos of his championship wins on the wall. His professional skateboarding career had taken off in the past few years, companies clamoring to sign him to their team at every event.

"Nope," Shoko said brightly. "Tournament all day today. He won't be back until this evening. Probably late, since Satoru is his plus one and they'll go out with the team afterwards. And speaking of Satoru…"

Utahime groaned, burying her face into her arms, her next words coming out muffled. "Shouldn't you get some sleep? You must be exhausted from work."

"I had an energy drink on the way home. And now this lovely double shot of espresso." Shoko took a loud, slurping sip from her cup, smacking her lips. "Ahhh, I could stay awake for hours just listening to a story about a mortified young woman caught wearing the underwear of her high school paramour."

Utahime's head shot up. "He is not my paramour."

"She lives!" Shoko grinned. "So if he's not your paramour, then what is he?"

Utahime clamped her mouth shut.

Shoko settled into her chair. "You're going to tell me one way or another. And if you don't, Suguru might forget his promise to keep quiet and let it slip to Satoru before you get a chance to explain it away."

"He probably already did," Utahime muttered, slouching forward, her forehead resting on the table.

"Then you could at least do damage control with me."

Utahime said nothing, letting her head roll to the side, her cheek pressing against the table's cool surface.

"Why don't we start with some easy questions?" Shoko offered, setting down her cup. "Like, how often do you wear teenage Satoru's boxer briefs?"

"That's easy?" Utahime complained loudly. She sat up, taking a deep drink from her beer, resigning herself to her fate. "Okay. Okay, fine. I'll talk." She blew out a breath, psyching herself up.

"'Atta girl," Shoko said, resting her chin in her hand and smiling. "Here's an easier question: how do those little boy briefs even fit on that fine ass of yours?"

Utahime smiled wryly. "Thanks, doll. To be honest, they're pretty stretchy. And I know you tease him about having no ass, but the man's got a pretty spacious backyard. Even in high school."

"Gross." Shoko's mouth twisted in disgust. "Never talk about Gojo's butt like that again."

Utahime snickered. "Sorry." She scratched at the label of the beer bottle with her nail. "I… I really have no good explanations for why I've kept the underwear all these years. At least, none that aren't incredibly embarrassing," she added, seeing Shoko's displeased look. "It didn't start off as anything weird. I brought them with me to university so that my parents wouldn't find them in my room while I was away. And then I put them in a drawer and forgot about them."

Shoko sipped her espresso silently. The next words spilled out of Utahime like they had been waiting to be said for so long that they'd grown impatient.

"First year of university was kind of tough for me. I was so determined to do well in school I kind of neglected taking care of myself. I was studying so much that I had run out of clean clothes and was feeling sad and stressed and that pair of underwear was the only thing left in my drawer. So I wore them, and somehow they made me feel better."

And now that Utahime had started spilling, she couldn't stop.

"So from then on, whenever I needed solace, I wore them. And," she laughed mirthlessly. "I guess I still do. They're comfortable and give me a feeling of nostalgia and—and closeness. To Satoru, I suppose. But like, that version of him that was pure, on that night that was happy, during a time when things were easier. Like, it's not really about him. More like… an idea of him. The idealized Satoru."

Shoko was pressing her lips together, her cheeks lifting as she tried not to smile.

"So, yeah," Utahime concluded a little sharply, irked by Shoko's apparent amusement.

"My god, could you be any more of a Taylor Swift song?"

"Uh… what?"

Shoko sang, very badly, a few lines. "But you keep my old scarf from that very first week, cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me, you can't get rid of it. Except the scarf is Satoru's panties."

Utahime rolled her eyes so hard that it hurt.

"You know I'm right!" Shoko pointed a scolding finger at her.

"No!" Utahime protested. "That's a sad song, and this is a happy thing."

Shoko grinned widely. "Happy, huh?"

"Stop it!" Utahime groaned. "I'm embarrassed enough as it is. Don't make it into something it's not."

"Honey, I don't think anyone could make this into anything worse than what it is. I actually find it very sweet."

Utahime buried her face into her arms again.

"I knew university was a little rough for you, but I didn't realize it was that rough," Shoko said sympathetically. "You should have told me."

Utahime waved a hand. "You had your own things to worry about. Like getting into med school. Or faking it, at least."

Shoko shrugged, unabashed. "My entrance exams may have been faked but I still did all the work once inside. Anyway, I could have helped you. If only so that you wouldn't have been forced into such depravity."

Utahime sighed. "It is what it is. And now I live with the consequences."

"Will you ever tell him?"

"Absolutely not. Could you imagine? I don't know how he could become more annoying than he already is but I just know he'd manage it."

Shoko laughed lightly. "You speak so disparagingly about him and yet you fuck him every weekend. Now that's true lo—"

"Don't say that word!"

Shoko clamped her mouth shut but couldn't suppress her giggle. "I'm sorry. I just wish…" She trailed off, eyes glazing over.

Utahime watched her expectantly. "You wish what?"

Shoko shook her head. "Nothing." She had that shifty look about her that Utahime had observed recently, and Utahime didn't like it.

"If you've got something to say—"

"I don't," Shoko said, putting emphasis on herself. "Someone else should probably say something, though."

Utahime downed the rest of her beer. "I'm not telling him," she said firmly.

Shoko just nodded slowly, stifling a yawn and saying cryptically, "I think people should say things."

Utahime studied her. "You should get some sleep. You're not making much sense."

"Yeah," Shoko said, looking as if her exhaustion had finally caught up to her now that she'd gotten to the bottom of Utahime's secret. "Thanks for fessing up, hun. I know it was tough. Feel free to hang out here while I have a nap, if you want. You can even take home a pair of my underwear."

Utahime snorted. "Ha. Ha."

"Just relax."

"I am relaxed."

"No, you're not. Stop clenching your fists."

Looking down, Utahime saw that her hands were indeed clenched into white-knuckled fists. Satoru reached over and flicked the back of her hand, and she released her grip.

"Don't worry. Megumi always does better in the second half. His panic about losing kicks in." Satoru slouched into his hard plastic seat, his knees pushing up against the chair in front of him, his legs far too long for the cramped bleachers of the gymnasium.

They were halfway through watching Megumi's taekwondo tournament, and he'd done well so far. Utahime had gotten caught up in the event, watching attentively as Megumi took on his opponents, shouting encouraging words from the stands. She wasn't sure if her presence had done anything to soothe Megumi's nerves, as Satoru had insisted it would, but she wanted to support him nonetheless.

"I didn't realize you were so invested in Megumi's sports." Satoru stretched his arms overhead, then casually draped one across the back of Utahime's seat.

"This is an entertaining sport," Utahime said, picking up his hand delicately with her thumb and forefinger and returning his arm back to him. "And Megumi is quite good."

On Satoru's other side, Tsumiki, who was typing away on her phone, laughed lightly and said, "He finally found an outlet for his unbridled rage. No more beating up bullies."

"Thank goodness for that," Utahime said, giving Satoru a sidelong look. At one point in time, Megumi was getting into fights at school, and when Utahime had heard that Satoru had been the one who was teaching him how to fight in the first place, she had given Satoru quite an earful. She knew it wasn't really her place to do so, and she couldn't really fault Megumi for punishing bullies who deserved it, nor Satoru for training him to defend himself, but Utahime was a teacher, and that kind of behavior was not to be condoned, especially at school.

Satoru just smiled benignly at her.

"I'm glad you're here, Tsumiki," Utahime said, leaning around Satoru to address her. "I know you usually don't come to these things, but it's good that Megumi feels supported by his family."

Over the years that Utahime had known Gojo's little family, she'd learned a lot about the Fushiguro step-siblings, sometimes against her will as Satoru would talk endlessly about them. Tsumiki loved her brother, but she was a top student, and usually spent her time studying or attending one of her many club events. In that sense, Utahime felt that Tsumiki was a kindred spirit, and thus harbored a soft spot for her.

"Uncle Gojo made a deal with me," Tsumiki said sweetly, leaning her head on Satoru's shoulder.

Satoru frowned. "I've told you to stop calling me that. I prefer Dad."

Tsumiki laughed. "I know. And I've told you that you're not my real dad, no matter how much you cry about it."

"Harsh!"

"You tell him, girl," Utahime said to Tsumiki, who laughed again.

"I'm kidding," Tsumiki said. "You're the best stand-in dad there ever was." She giggled as Satoru clutched his heart and wiped away a fake tear.

At the close of the competition, Megumi placed second overall, a fact that delighted Satoru. At the same time, Utahime could tell that he was somewhat disappointed that Megumi didn't win the whole thing.

"I know he has it in him," Satoru muttered quietly, more to himself than anyone. But as Megumi was presented with his medal, Satoru smiled broadly, clapping and whistling louder than the entire crowd.

Afterwards, families and friends milled about the space, offering congratulations to the winners and packing up equipment at leisure.

Off to the side, Utahime and Satoru stood together with Tsumiki, waiting for Megumi to gather his gear.

An elderly woman, hunched with age and using a walking cane, hobbled over and smiled at Satoru.

"Megumi's yours?" the woman asked, and Satoru nodded. The woman said glowingly, "He has such talent. And so handsome! I can see where he gets his good looks. You two have done a wonderful job." She beamed at Utahime.

Utahime blanched, understanding that the woman thought they were a couple. That they were Megumi's parents. "Oh, we're not—"

"We're very proud of him," Satoru interrupted Utahime's attempted correction. He smiled at the woman while putting an arm around Utahime's shoulders and squeezing firmly. "Such a blessing. Isn't that right, darling?"

She wanted to protest and set the record straight, but the old woman was looking so serenely at them, so kindly and unaware, that Utahime smiled stiffly and nodded. The woman patted Utahime on the arm and leaned in to whisper to her, "What a catch!" before winking cheekily at Satoru and hobbling away. As soon as her back was turned, Utahime tossed Satoru's arm off of her shoulders.

"Idiot," she muttered while Satoru chuckled and Tsumiki hid her smile.

"See?" Satoru said. "People think we're together already. Might as well make it official, darling."

How Utahime wished they weren't in a public space. How she wanted to strangle him and holler at him, even knowing he'd be grinning the entire time.

But as she did nearly every time he got on her nerves, she swallowed her annoyance. She was here for Megumi. She would endure Satoru for him.

"So, dinner?" Satoru asked, scrolling through his phone for options. "Bullet train sushi is right around the corner."

"I should really—" Utahime began.

"Yes!" Tsumiki said, linking her arm through Utahime's. "It's been forever since you've eaten with us. I'm so tired of these boys."

"I…" Utahime hesitated, and then noticed Satoru's lips quirked into a half-smile, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. He knew about her soft spot for Tsumiki and that she would more willingly participate if Tsumiki asked. Perhaps it was Satoru's plan all along to bring Tsumiki so that a group dinner would likely be guaranteed. Utahime was now very suspicious about the deal that Tsumiki had mentioned.

"There's sake. And beer," Satoru said enticingly. "My treat."

For the millionth time in her life, Utahime felt as if she were being outsmarted by him. But who was she to deny free alcohol and sushi?

A dull clunk sounded as Megumi, who had finally made his way to them, dropped his duffel bag of gear onto the floor. Without greeting them, he took off his silver medal and stuffed it away into a pocket.

"Congra—" Tsumiki began.

"Can we go?" Megumi said bluntly. "I'm hungry."

"Of course, my favorite, most talented and handsome son," Satoru said, apparently taking Utahime's silence for assent that she'd go to dinner, picking up Megumi's bag, and heading for the exit.

Megumi looked after him blankly, and then at Utahime for some kind of explanation, who shook her head.

"Don't ask," she sighed.

For the third time, Utahime slapped Satoru's chopsticks away from her plate as he tried to steal another of her unagi rolls.

"Stop that!" she scolded. "Just wait for another plate to come around."

He only chuckled, leaning back, and as soon as Utahime went back to her own food, his chopsticks shot out and snatched a roll before she could react.

Utahime smacked him on the back of the head as he shoved the roll into his mouth and he laughed, spraying rice across the table.

"Will you two quit it?" Megumi said, his tone somehow both bored and exasperated, as if he were a parent dealing with unruly children. He didn't even look up from his phone as he spoke, deft thumbs typing away.

"He started it," Utahime muttered.

Satoru leaned forward with a grin, looking particularly irreverent. "Who ya texting, Megs?"

A very slight tinge of pink appeared high on Megumi's cheeks, surprising Utahime. She'd never seen him blush before. But his expression shuttered as he glared up at Satoru for half a second and then his bright green eyes focused back onto his phone.

"Kugisaki," he said flatly.

A mischievous grin unfurled onto Satoru's face. "I see."

"Leave him alone," Utahime scolded again, sensing that he was about to start teasing Megumi.

"I didn't do anything," Satoru said, his smile firmly in place. "Yet."

Megumi gave a small, tired sigh, putting his phone away before Satoru, who was creeping forward across the table and eyeing Megumi's phone screen, could catch a glimpse.

"I have to go soon," Megumi stated, making it clear that there would be no stopping him.

"Oh? Go where?" Satoru asked, settling back into his seat and sliding another beer towards Utahime.

"Nowhere."

"Goin' nowhere in a hurry, huh?"

Megumi gave a single nod, eating another piece of sushi. Utahime admired his ability to stay calm and ignore Satoru's attempts to bait him. She could only manage it for so long before she retaliated and Satoru laughed at her anger.

"Will Kugisaki be nowhere too?" Satoru asked, and Utahime could hear the teasing edge emerging. She punched his thigh under the table and immediately regretted it, as he quickly grabbed her fist, keeping it hostage on his lap.

Megumi chewed another piece of sushi, the pink tinge on his cheeks deepening, and he gave another curt nod.

Satoru's lips curled over his teeth as he kept himself from giggling. Utahime could feel his intake of breath to laugh and she stomped on his foot.

"Well," Satoru said, clearing his throat and deepening his voice in an imitation of a stern father. "Be a gentleman and practice safe se—"

Utahime shoved him with her shoulder at the same time that Tsumiki said, "Gross!" and Megumi muttered, "Ugh."

Satoru just snickered. "I'm kidding! But also, if you need any, Utahime's purse has like a hundred condo—"

"Gojo Satoru!" Utahime nearly shouted, her own face feeling hot enough to fry an egg. "That's enough out of you!"

He was laughing in earnest now, still firmly holding onto Utahime's fist under the table.

"I think I'll go," Megumi said, standing and picking up his hoodie. He looked at Utahime sympathetically. "Good luck, Miss Iori."

"I need to get going, too," Tsumiki said, eyes on her phone as she stood and slung her purse onto her shoulder. "Mimiko and Nanako are waiting for me."

And just like that, Utahime and Satoru were left alone at the table.

"Well, it's just you and me now, darling," Satoru said, finally letting go of Utahime's fist so that he could slide his arm around her shoulders. "The kids have flown the nest. They're all grown up."

"Certainly more grown up than you."

Satoru just chuckled and ordered her several servings of sake . "Now that the children are gone, you can drink to your heart's content."

"What, you're not drinking?" Utahime asked.

"Someone's gotta drive your drunk ass home," replied Satoru, and he dodged Utahime's fist, laughing.

An hour later, Satoru was supporting Utahime as she walked unsteadily out of the restaurant while speaking loudly enough for the other patrons to glance over.

"And you take me straight home, Satoru! No funny business! I mean it!"

The pavement outside was wet from a recent rain, and Utahime eyed the ground as if it had decided to purposely become a treacherous walking surface just for her. After a moment, somewhere in her mind she decided that it would be easier to walk barefoot than to try and brave the wet pavement in her smooth-bottomed flats, and she bent down to remove her shoes.

"Stop that," Satoru said, catching her by the arm.

"What?" Utahime complained loudly. "I can't walk when it's wet!"

"I'll carry you."

"You absolutely will not—!" Utahime squeaked as Satoru leaned down and his arm swept behind her knees, scooping her up like a baby.

"And I think it's best if you just come back to my place tonight. Your apartment is so far away and I'm feeling lazy."

"I said no funny business!"

Satoru laughed. "I heard you. I think the whole city did."

At first Utahime squirmed in his grip, angry that he was carrying her, a woman in her thirties, like a child. But the movement made her feel unsteady, so she stopped. She didn't think that he would drop her, but she'd underestimated his proclivity for mischief before. So now she bounced in his arms as he walked, his long strides taking them to his parked car, her arms clinging around his neck for stability.

"This is stupid," Utahime muttered under her breath, her mouth close enough to his ear that she knew he heard her just fine. "You're stupid."

Satoru grinned. "I love when you talk dirty to me."

Fiery anger flared, and Utahime had the rabid desire to bite him on the neck. That would teach him, right? He wouldn't mess with her if she bit him.

So she did.

And all that happened was that he laughed, and the anger inside her turned into something else when his warm skin folded under her teeth, and all she wanted to do was keep her mouth there and let her lips explore his tender neck.

She quickly suppressed the feeling, tamping down that fire that had morphed from fury to hunger.

"Happy now?" Satoru asked. "Got your little tiger kitten aggression out?"

"No," Utahime retorted in a growl.

"You're welcome to keep biting me, then."

Incensed, she buried her face into Satoru's neck, not-quite-biting him, dragging her teeth across his skin and relishing the warmth, the taste. His arms tightened around her and his pace quickened, and then quite suddenly she was being tossed into the passenger seat of his car.

Startled, she looked around, and a moment later Satoru was sliding into the driver's seat. She was apparently much drunker than she thought — she was losing track of time and space, the car's interior spinning slightly as she blinked hard to try and clear her mind. The hunger roiled quietly in her gut.

Satoru slid his sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head, some strands of his hair caught in the nose pads, giving him that sexy, purposely disheveled look. Utahime was momentarily entranced, her fumbling fingers pausing as she tried to buckle her seat belt. Satoru patiently buckled Utahime in, clicking the belt into place.

The car came to life with a roar and Satoru shifted into gear, his legs working the clutch and gas, the car lurching forward with each shift as they gained speed.

"Why do you drive this thing?" Utahime asked, her head rolling towards Satoru, squinting at him.

Satoru chuckled. "What else am I supposed to drive?"
"I mean, why do you drive a manual? Is it to prove your manliness?" Utahime watched his large hand as he gripped the stick shift, the sight of his protruding veins stoking her hunger. She said a little quieter, "Is it to keep your hands strong?" She reached for his hand, lifting it off the shifter, sliding her palm against his, sandwiching her much-smaller hands around him. "They're so big."

She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "You know what they say."

Utahime decided not to resist her cravings. Heavens knew she could use a release. "I don't need to know what they say. I know from personal experience."

She looked at Satoru, at his devilish smirk, but he kept his eyes on the road. He slid his fingers between hers, linking them, and then brought her hand to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, slow and soft, and then returned her hand to her lap, letting go and returning his own back to the shifter.

"Kinda need my hand right now," he said with a glance at her, smiling almost apologetically.

Utahime frowned, disappointed — and a little surprised — by his rebuff. He had never — never — rejected her. Annoyed that she wasn't getting what she wanted, she slid her hand up his arm, leaning towards him, practically out of her seat. "Baby," she said in a low voice, trying to reach his ear but only murmuring into his shoulder.

"'Baby' ?" Satoru repeated, grin widening. "You've never called me that before."

"First time for everything." Utahime pressed her face into his shoulder, his familiar scent both comforting and arousing. "Warm," she murmured, rubbing her cheek against him. "Can you pull over? Find a garage like we used to? I want… I need…" She reached over, touching his crotch, feeling his half-hardness beneath his jeans, and there was a squeaking sound as his hand tightly gripped the leather steering wheel. "You want it too?"

Satoru's mouth pulled up at the corner. "Whether I want it or not is immaterial to the situation."

Utahime blinked at him, irritated that he still seemed to be refusing her. Normally, he'd be speeding down the road, searching for a dark parking garage, any secluded area where they could get their needs taken care of. But at the moment, he was driving unhurriedly, the speedometer hovering only just past the speed limit, his demeanor calm and casual despite the obvious growing tent in his pants.

"Satoruuu," Utahime whined, voice groaning into his armpit, and she heard him take a slow breath. "Stop being so weird."

He smiled gently, saying nothing, only leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

She looked up at him, still clinging to his arm, streetlights illuminating his pretty face for a moment. She suddenly realized what they must look like — that they looked exactly like a couple, a real couple, with her all over him, looking at him longingly, and him exuding calm happiness, kissing her sweetly and chastely.

Shit.

She couldn't be seen like this. She couldn't allow it. Why couldn't he just go back to being a horny bastard instead of making her the pathetic one?

"Hmph," Utahime grunted, flinging herself back into the passenger seat, huddling against the door as far away from Satoru as she could get. "Jerk."

At that, Satoru laughed. "There's my girl."

Utahime ignored the way 'my girl' made her insides contract.

The rest of the car ride was subdued, the silence punctuated only by soft jazz from the speakers, and Utahime's occasional, pointed sighs.

When Satoru finally pulled into his parking garage, Utahime unbuckled herself and scrambled into the back seat before he'd even put the car in park.

"What are–"

"Come back here." Utahime grabbed Satoru's arm, pulling him into the back with her.

He indulged, maneuvering his long limbs to ease himself next to her. As soon as he sat, Utahime straddled him, pressing herself against him.

"Utahime—" he started, but she cut him off with a kiss, her tongue diving into his mouth. He kissed her back, but his hands strayed no further than her hips, holding her gently. It was so unlike him — she was used to him being possessive and grabby, his fingers squeezing hard enough to bruise. But he simply sat there in the back seat of the car as Utahime ground against him, embarrassingly desperate.

"What's wrong with you?" she complained, leaning back to peer at his face.

"Nothing. I'm enjoying myself immensely." His thumbs rubbed circles into her hip bones and his blue gaze strayed downwards, looking at the place where her lap connected to his. "I just don't want you to make any decisions like this when your mind is altered."

Utahime could feel her brow furrow even before she was conscious that she was doing it. "What are you talking about? Why are you being so… respectful?"

He smiled as if she were being dense. "Because I respect you."

She barked out a laugh. "Since when?"

"Since always."

"That's a lie."

"It's not."

Utahime shoved a finger into his chest. "You've never respected me a day in your life. Just last week you were doing nasty , dirty things to me."

"You weren't drunk then. And I respectfully disrespected your body. Because you wanted me to."

Well, she couldn't argue with that. She had been the one to ask him to take her from behind, to tell him to do whatever he wanted, release wherever he wanted. The memory of it stirred her up, but before she could resume kissing him, he spoke again.

"I will admit to being pretty forward with you since the day we met, and I probably crossed some lines a few times, but I've always respected you. And I think it's about time I extended that respect to your… virtue."

"My virtue?"

"Maybe that's not the right word. I'm the one who stole your virtue in the first place." He smiled at the thought. "I just don't want to take advantage of you in this state."

"Again, since when?" Utahime could think of countless times where she'd had messy, drunken sex with him, and he'd been stone cold sober.

Satoru looked at her plainly. "Since I decided that I want you forever."

Utahime was at a loss. She was still extremely wound up, her fingers threaded through the hair above his undercut, her crotch pressed onto his. "Is this about the dating thing again?"

"I thought that was obvious."

Her brain was not prepared to make the jump to such a topic. She wanted only one thing at this moment, and Satoru was not giving it to her.

Always such a pain in the ass.

"Can you forget about that for the moment? Let's just…" Utahime sighed and then, very childishly, whined, "I want this."

"I know. But you're also drunk."

"We've done this a million times! I want this, Satoru. I know I had a few drinks but you're not like… coercing me into anything." She slithered off him, sliding across the back seat until she was laying down, her head in his lap. She took his hand, shoving it between her legs, pressing his fingers where she wanted them. "Do it," she demanded.

He laughed through his nose. "One could say that you are coercing me."

"Yeah? And what's to stop me from using your hand to get off?"

"Nothing, I suppose."

"You really don't want to?"

"Of course I do."

"Then–"

"Utahime." Satoru leaned down, using his other hand to brush her bangs away from her forehead, giving her a kiss there. "How about this: I'll meet you halfway. If I get you off with my hand, will you settle down? Will you go to bed afterwards?"

Utahime considered the offer, and decided it was better than nothing. "Yes."

"This is a compromise," Satoru said firmly. "I'd much rather you just go to sleep, and if you still want me in the morning you can let me know. But… I guess it turns out I'm not a very strong man when it comes to you."

He began massaging her in precisely the way that she liked, and she immediately forgot his stern tone. She closed her eyes in bliss as he slid his warm hand under her waistband.

It took almost no time for her body to tense up and release, shockwaves of pleasure undulating through her. Satoru kissed her, swallowing her cries of his name, and when she twisted towards his belt buckle, her mouth at just the right position if she could only get his pants undone, he chuckled and lifted her away.

"That's enough, Uta."

They soon entered Satoru's spacious apartment, Utahime inhaling the familiar fresh smell of laundry soap and vanilla candles. She'd always been surprised that as an adult, he'd kept his own space clean and tidy. She wondered if looking after two young children had anything to do with it.

Satoru led her to his bedroom, continually fending off her feeble advances with gently amused smiles. She had a moment of hopeful excitement when Satoru removed her shirt and pants, only to be disappointed when he re-clothed her with some of his own clean clothes.

Through her drunken fog, Utahime found herself being tucked into bed, and just as she remembered that she needed to wash her face, Satoru was pressing a cold cloth to her skin, wiping gently. She scented the distinct fragrance of makeup remover.

Sighing in relief, she let him clean her face, and in another moment she was fading into unconsciousness, dimly aware of a warm, long-limbed body wrapped around her comfortably, fingers brushing her hair gently.

Utahime awoke the next morning alone. She sat up groggily, head swiveling slowly around Satoru's room. It was empty. The side of the king sized bed that Satoru had slept on was vacant, the duvet askew, the sheets cold. He'd been gone a while.

Her memory of the night was foggy, but she clearly and incredulously remembered that Satoru had refused sex. She ripped away the duvet from her body, checking the state of her clothes. She was wearing his sweatpants, the string tied neatly, her underwear intact. She was also wearing one of his shirts – soft, black, long-sleeved, and much too big for her. She was practically swimming in it. Her bra was still on.

He really hadn't tried anything. Even when they'd gotten into bed together.

Utahime rubbed her eyes. She was in no state to try and puzzle out his behavior. Nor to remember her own behavior — desperate and embarrassing.

She dragged herself out of bed, shuffling through Satoru's apartment towards the kitchen in his too-long sweatpants, expecting to find him there, eating or playing video games. But it wasn't Satoru who sat in one of the counter bar stools, scrolling on his phone.

"Suguru? What are you doing here? Where's Satoru?"

Suguru turned around, giving Utahime one of his soft smiles. "Morning, Uta. I'm an errand boy today."

She should have been embarrassed to be seen in this state, Satoru's large clothes hanging off her small frame, his best friend looking at her knowingly. But nothing had happened during the night, and Suguru already knew all about her and Satoru's escapades anyway, so pulled herself into a bar stool next to him. "What do you mean?"

"Satoru had to step out, so he asked me to drive you home." He reached across the counter and picked up a steaming mug that smelled of strong coffee, setting it in front of Utahime.

Utahime took a sip. It was perfect — no sugar, no milk, just straight black coffee. When Satoru made her coffee, he always overloaded it with sweetener, mostly because he enjoyed stealing sips, and he wouldn't have anything less sugary than a candy bar. "Sorry you got burdened with this. I can take the train home."

"No worries," Suguru said breezily. "Shoko's got another double shift and I've got a free day. It's no trouble."

Utahime smiled gratefully, if a little wanly. He went back to scrolling on his phone, letting Utahime drink her coffee in silence. Satoru could never.

When she finished, Suguru waited patiently for her to get changed and gather her belongings, and in another ten minutes they were on the road, headed for Utahime's home.

They chatted lightly about life and work, Suguru giving her the latest on his two adopted daughters, Mimiko and Nanako. Both Utahime and Shoko had always found it amusing that two of the most unlikely boys had taken in children at such a young age. But somehow it worked. And the kids were thriving.

"Suguru, you're a tolerable guy when you're not with Satoru," Utahime said, drumming her fingers on the car's window ledge.

Suguru chuckled. "Yeah, I know. He brings it out of me. I like it, though."

Utahime wrinkled her nose. "Really?"

"He makes life fun, don't you think? Life's always duller without him."

"It's certainly quieter without him, yes. As for fun…" Utahime raised her eyebrows in doubtful thought, and then conceded. "I suppose he can be fun."

"I see him bring it out of you, too," Suguru said, smiling at her.

"Huh?"

"You're always more open. More passionate and spontaneous. For someone who's usually a stickler for rules, I think it's a good thing. That's how it is with me, at least."

"Hmm." Utahime weighed this. It was indeed true that she tended to be wilder and more erratic around Satoru. She'd always attributed it as a response to his nonstop quest to irritate the life out of her. She'd never thought it could be a good thing.

"And it's only him," Suguru continued. "He's the only one to do that to me. He's pretty special."

Utahime looked at him sidelong, seeing his fond smile. "You sound like you're in love with him."

He laughed, eyes soft. "Maybe I am, a little. Maybe we all are. How could you not love the guy? He's an obnoxious butthole and deserves every ass-kicking he gets, but he's got a good heart."

She snorted. "And a good body, so he tells me all the time."

Suguru smiled. "You would know."

Utahime could feel the blush on her cheeks, and didn't respond. Instead, she watched the scenery zip past outside, lost in thought about the effect that Satoru had on people. He was undoubtedly a very polarizing figure: people either adored him or despised him with no inbetween. Except, it seemed, for Utahime, who both hated him, and loved him for his uses, which mostly seemed to be relegated to one category: pleasure.

"Can you tell me what he's up to?" Utahime asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"Why is he suddenly so determined to piss me off with this dating stuff?"

Suguru glanced at her. "You think he's just trying to make you mad?"

Utahime crossed her arms and huffed lightly. "I don't know what else he's playing at."

There was a short pause, and then Suguru asked, "What if he's not playing?"

"What on god's green earth would make him think that I'd want to date him?"

"Well…" Suguru paused again, for long enough that Utahime wondered for a wild second if there had ever been a time that she'd given Satoru the wrong impression about the nature of their relationship. "You've had every opportunity to turn him away all these years. And you haven't."

"Yeah, but that's just sex," Utahime scoffed.

"Is it?"

Utahime gave a single laugh. "Of course it is. He knows that."

Suguru shrugged one shoulder. "He knows that for you it is. Did you ever think about what it might be for him ?"

Her answer was immediate. "I don't need to. He was the one who proposed this arrangement in the first place." She thought back to those college days and Satoru's admittedly generous and somewhat scandalous offer.

"Well, that's true," Suguru conceded. "But… ah, well. Never mind." He paused again, momentarily focused on the road as he changed lanes, and then he asked almost skeptically, "Are you sure that it's just sex for you?"

"Yes!"

"Then what's all this business with his underwear? That doesn't seem very 'no strings attached' to me."

God dammit.

"Shoko told you, didn't she?" Utahime accused.

Suguru gave her an apologetic look. "Don't blame Shoko. I squirreled it out of her."

Utahime sighed heavily and leaned her head back against the headrest. "I… I have no answer for you."

Silence permeated the car, weighty and — on Utahime's part — awkward.

"Look," Suguru said, his tone frank. "No matter what you think of him, he honestly cares for you. Yeah, he can be a pain in the ass, but…" he sighed. "Okay I'm going to be straightforward with you. And don't you dare tell him about this, or I'll tell him about the underwear thing."

He looked deadly serious, so Utahime nodded, wary of what was about to be revealed.

"Satoru is…" Suguru took a deep breath. "He's got it bad for you. Like, bad bad. Like, embarrassingly bad."

Utahime blinked at the road. "Uh…"

Suguru rushed onward. "I don't want to get into details because that's his responsibility, but you should know that none of this is a joke, and he is just… head over heels. He just doesn't know how to act on it because of the long history between you two. And he's also frankly kind of an idiot."

Nonplussed, Utahime continued staring through the windshield, not really seeing anything. "So… you're telling me that he's… in love with me?"

"I wouldn't necessarily use that word," Suguru said. "Maybe he would, but it's not my place to speculate."

Utahime's gut was recoiling and twisting, her heart rate increasing to a gallop. This couldn't be true. She'd told him she didn't want love, didn't want a relationship. He knew what this was all along.

"Are you certain?" Utahime asked, her voice sounding distant to herself.

"Certain as death," Suguru said flatly, even looking a little annoyed as he said it. "I've had to listen to him pining for over a dec—well. I probably shouldn't say too much more. Bottom line is, he's not playing around."

There was no appropriate response that Utahime could formulate. The information simply did not want to process in her brain, and the only phrase that kept repeating in her mind was 'he's got it bad'.

She kept silent, and so did Suguru, and she tried again and again to understand the words, to make them fit into her reality. And then the car was stopping, and Utahime was looking around, wondering if there was a traffic jam, but they had arrived at her home.

"Shit," she mumbled. Numbly, she collected her things and got out of the car, murmuring a goodbye to Suguru and turning towards her apartment building. She heard the car window glide open behind her.

"Almost forgot," Suguru called. "Satoru wanted me to give this to you."

He was holding out a small gift bag tied with a pretty blue ribbon.

"What is it?" Utahime asked warily.

"No idea. I'm just the delivery guy."

She took the bag gingerly, as if it might explode. Suguru waved at her and drove off, looking both sheepish and relieved.

Inside her apartment, after a long shower and fresh change of clothes, Utahime paced her kitchen with a second mug of coffee. The blue-ribboned gift bag sat unopened on her counter, benign as a landmine.

Satoru had given her gifts before. She was no stranger to that. Sometimes they were very pricey: her favorite purse was a Marc Jacobs snapshot bag that he'd presented to her on her birthday several years prior. She'd learned to accept his extravagant gifts; he did it with everyone.

But this gift felt loaded. She wondered if it was supposed to be some kind of bribe, an incentive for her to date him.

Eventually Utahime's curiosity got the better of her. If the gift ended up being something out of line, she could always return it to him with a sharply worded scolding.

The silky ribbon came undone easily and she peered into the bag hesitantly. There was a small box inside.

She pulled it out and caught a whiff of a very pretty floral scent, and then she recognized the logo printed on the box: it was the incredibly expensive perfume that she'd considered (and ultimately rejected) while fending off Satoru at the cosmetics shop.

A small note was taped to the front of the box. Satoru had drawn a crooked heart and scrawled in his messy handwriting: For your stench.

The next several days were spent deep in thought. October was coming to a close, the air crisp and cool, the melancholy atmosphere adding to Utahime's intense ponderings.

She weighed this and that, alternating between frustration, annoyance, and confusion. Satoru's behavior, their history, words that both Shoko and Suguru had said. All of the recent and not-so-recent events swirling and taking shape in a new way. Many hours were spent pouting as she stared out her windows, cursing Satoru for continually finding new ways to disrupt her life. And underlying it all, a sense of wonder and realization.

And as Halloween day dawned, Utahime made a decision. She still had no idea what to do about Satoru, but she knew that at least one thing would clear out the skeletons in her own closet.

She would tell Satoru about his underwear.

The risk that someone else would tell him first was too much to bear. She wanted to be able to control the narrative as much as possible.

As she hung up garlands of fluttering bats and set out bowls of candy, Utahime prepared herself for his response. He would likely be insufferable and obnoxious. She could count on him to tease her about it until the end of her days.

But something about what Suguru said had struck a chord with her. That Satoru truly cared for her. And while the fact that Utahime had held onto a piece of Satoru's clothing all these years could be seen as somewhat perverse, she had always considered it a source of comfort and nostalgia. She would just need to make that clear to Satoru.

And so, when darkness had fallen and Utahime had downed three cans of pumpkin beer, she pulled out her phone. She would much rather tell him over the phone, but as she was sure he was out partying on Halloween night, she simply sent him a text.

Hey. I need to tell you something. Call me when you're free.

Once the text was out into the wild, she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

She puttered around her apartment, eating too much candy, worrying about what she'd say, and getting increasingly annoyed at Satoru's lack of response.

Hours passed, and it was nearing midnight when Utahime's phone finally buzzed with an incoming call.

It was from an unknown number.

She usually didn't answer calls from unknown numbers, but something nagged at her. Thinking that it could be a student's parent or something equally as important, she answered the phone.

"Utahime?" Satoru's voice sounded tinny and far away, as if the connection were bad.

"Satoru? What number are you calling from?"

"Utahime, I… I'm in prison."

Notes:

I apologize for the super long wait for this chapter! I will do my best to finish up the last two quickly!