Chapter Text
Three months later.
“Did you get hurt?”
Suguru jumped, nearly knocking the pan off the stove. He turned to see Megumi, eyes bleary and bedhead on proud display, frowning up at him.
“Jesus, Megumi.” Suguru wheezed, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. “It’s early. Why are you up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. S’noisy outside.” Megumi mumbled, and Suguru hummed in acknowledgment. He understood where the boy was coming from — as much as he loved birds and nature and all that, really, they always seemed to wake up significantly before the ass crack of dawn, opting to hold their unrequested, thoroughly unwelcome concerts during the most hellish hours of the day. Now, at seven in the morning, they were probably on their fourth encore stage, or something.
“Sit with me, then. I’m making breakfast. Want some?”
“Okay.” Megumi said. “Also, you didn’t answer my question.”
Suguru glanced back at Megumi, who had now successfully pulled himself up onto one of the stools by the kitchen counter, before drawing his attention back onto his eggs. “Sorry. Ask me again?”
“I asked if you were hurt. You have red lines all over you.” Megumi explained, rubbing his eye. Suguru frowned, trying to figure out if this was another niche Naruto reference he couldn’t quite remember. Maybe he was due for a rewatch.
“Red lines?”
“Mm. Like the ones Yuji gets when he falls down and scrapes his knee, or when my dad tries to pet a cat and it scratches his face, but your ones are like — way longer. And on your back.”
It takes this innocent, unassuming comment for Suguru to realise that the birds were not, in fact, crooning the way they always did. Rather, they were suspiciously silent. Horrifyingly silent.
“Oh my God,” Suguru mumbled, letting the spatula in his hand fall into the pan, making a soft, clattering sound. “Oh my God.”
Megumi frowned, concerned. “Does it hurt a lot?”
“Oh my God.” Suguru hissed, ignoring the boy’s concern. He slapped a large hand onto the small of his back, as if it would do anything to cover up the… injury Megumi had noticed. Keep your shirt off, Satoru had said earlier, once he’d successfully convinced Suguru to make him breakfast. You can be like, my sexy personal chef, bringing me two meals at once. Get it?
Suguru was going to kill him.
“I can give you a bandaid if you want, but I don’t know if I have enough to cover all the lines.” Megumi said, looking over Suguru’s back one more time as said man hurriedly turned around, switching the stove off.
“I’m fine,” Suguru bit out, praying to every God that he could think of that the heat he was feeling in his face was purely imagined, rather than visible. “Thanks, but I’m okay. Really.”
“Are you sure?” Megumi asked, frown deepening. “Did your dog do it to you?”
Suguru blinked. “I don’t have a dog.”
“Really? Then what bit you on your shoulder?”
Seriously, he was going to kill Satoru. Make it long and painful, too.
“You guys are loud,” a whine interrupted. Suguru’s shoulders eased a little as Megumi turned to face the source of the noise, grateful for the distraction, until the realisation belatedly caught up to him again, and —
Oh my God.
“Shirt!” Suguru called out, voice catching on the lone syllable. “Do not come out here until you have one on! And Megumi, you can — you help me finish off these eggs. Here, I’ll carry you, and you can fry them.”
Megumi looked back at him, confusion evident on his face. “My dad says that I shouldn’t use the stove, and —”
“It’s fine, he’ll understand. Come on.” Suguru insisted, waving Megumi over. Megumi stared back at him for a few seconds, hesitant, but eventually gave in, hopping off his seat with a soft oof and heading over to Suguru.
Once Megumi was settled in Suguru’s hold, he took the spatula handed out to him, frowning. “Why does he have to go wear a shirt? He doesn’t like to wear one when he sleeps, usually.”
“You’ll thank me in a couple years, trust me.” Suguru muttered, clenching his jaw. When Megumi’s look of confusion only intensified, he shook his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just hold the spatula like — yeah, like that. Then you just move it around. Don’t — okay, good, but make sure you watch out for the edges of the pan, they’re hot.”
They settle into an easy routine, Suguru directing and Megumi following, and Megumi is such a good student that Suguru almost forgets what compelled him to begin the spontaneous culinary lesson in the first place. Almost.
“You’re such a prude, Suguru.” Satoru huffed, coming up behind Suguru and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Megumi’s seen me without a shirt multiple times, and he’s fine with it. Right, Megumi?”
When Megumi shrugged, prompting a proud grin from Satoru (seriously, what was he proud of, exactly?), Suguru reached back to pull at one of his ears, the resulting yelp only partially abating his embarrassment. “Yes, but he hasn’t seen you without a shirt like this.”
Satoru wrinkled his nose, confused. “The hell —”
“I’ll tell Kento, Dad.”
“The heck are you talking about?” Satoru corrected, rolling his eyes. “And anyway, you’re one to talk, Suguru. You don’t have — oh.”
Good. They were all on the same page. Suguru cleared his throat, looking back down at Megumi as he enthusiastically added salt to the eggs, gripping the shaker with both hands. “Yeah, I don’t. Which you asked for, by the way.”
“Appreciation of the visual arts hurts no one, Suguru.” Satoru grinned, placing his chin on Suguru’s shoulder. Right on the mark that Megumi had pointed out. Motherfucker.
“It’s hurting me. It’s hurting me considerably.”
“So you are hurt,” Megumi interrupted, turning away from his assigned task to frown at Suguru. “Put me down. I’ll get the bandaids. Do you want the Akatsuki or the Team 7 ones?”
Suguru sighed. “No, I’m —”
“I think the Akatsuki ones would be good, no? Red to cover the red.” Satoru cut in, reaching over to ruffle his son’s hair. His forearm blocked Suguru’s line of vision as he did so, and the raven-haired man had to actively fight the urge not to headbutt it, or bite it, or something. “You’re such a sweet boy, Megumi, looking out for poor little Suguru.”
Megumi winced at the contact, nudging at Suguru’s grip on him. Suguru rolled his eyes, allowing the boy to jump off him and disappear into his room. For a while, it was silent, apart from the sound of eggs sizzling and Satoru breathing softly by Suguru’s ear. It was nice. Peaceful.
Then, snapping out of it, Suguru turned around so that he was facing Satoru and voiced the one thought that had been on loop in his mind since Megumi first told him about those stupid, stupid ‘red lines’: “I’m going to kill you.”
Satoru laughed, tightening his grip around his boyfriend and nudging them both to the left, away from the stove. Suguru felt his back press against cold marble. “It’s probably not worth it yet. I haven’t written you into my will, so you won’t be getting anything.”
“I’ll get peace. I’ll get to protect Megumi’s innocence. I have a lot to gain, actually.”
“You’ll lose me, though.” Satoru murmured, inching closer to Suguru. Suguru rolled his eyes.
“That’s the goal, yeah.” He swatted at Satoru’s wrist. “Get off. I need to finish making this.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Kiss me first.”
Suguru blinked. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.” Satoru batted his eyelashes and pursed his lips as Suguru’s scowl deepened. “Get to it.”
“You’re so full of shit. You’re more of a child than Megumi is.”
“It’s going to burn, Suguru. Do you want to feed my son and I charred unborn chicken corpses for breakfast?”
“I want to feed you poison. Cyanide.”
Satoru pouted. “C’mon, just one. No tongue, even.”
Suguru reached two fingers out towards one of Satoru’s cheeks and pinched, hard. “I hate you.”
“Mm. Although last night, you seemed to really —”
Not wanting to hear the rest of the sentence, Suguru used his grip on Satoru to pull him even closer, pressing their lips together in a way that resembled a punch more than it did a kiss. Still, Satoru smiled into it all the same, one hand rubbing circles into Suguru’s hip and the other pressed to his side, right along his ribcage.
When a finger from the hand on Suguru’s hip breached the elastic of his sweatpants, he bit down on Satoru’s lip, hard, relishing in the resulting whine of pain. “There, one.” He huffed as he pulled away, running a tongue across his bottom lip. “Off.”
Satoru’s eyes clung to the action greedily, but when Suguru made no movement to kiss him again, he sighed, relaxing his hold so that the other man could fully break out of it. He pulled himself onto the counter Megumi had been sitting at earlier, swinging his legs as he watched Suguru fiddle with the knobs on the stove. “Geto Suguru, the king of self control all of a sudden. And yet, every time I —”
“Watch it, Satoru.” Suguru murmured darkly, glaring back at the other man over his shoulder.
Satoru’s eyes widened. “Wait, that was kind of —”
“I couldn’t find them,” Megumi called out. He peeked his head out of the doorway of his room and frowned, unaware of the way Satoru exhaled sharply and Suguru mumbled a quiet curse under his breath. “I think we ran out.”
“Rough.” Satoru waited for Megumi to make his way back to the kitchen before pulling him up onto his lap so that they could both watch Suguru finish preparing breakfast. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll pick up a couple boxes at the store later today, then.”
“Okay.” Megumi agreed, leaning into his father’s front. “Suguru, they also have ones with the Konoha symbol as well, if you want that one instead of the other two.”
Suguru sighed, turning to reveal two plates. He placed them both to the left of the father and son and ruffled Megumi’s hair, smiling softly at the petulant whine it earned him. “I’m good with whatever you like, Megumi.”
Megumi pursed his lips, considering. “I think we should get them all. Just in case.”
“Just in case,” Satoru repeated, hugging Megumi closer to him. He looked over at Suguru through his hair and smirked. “Suguru gets hurt quite often, after all.”
Six months later.
“I’m not doing that.”
“But I want to know what element my chakra is.”
“An x-ray won’t tell you that. Also, that’s not even a real thing.”
“You won’t know until you check with the x-ray. Did you watch Naruto? Because there, everyone has —”
Shoko groaned, leaning back in her chair. Megumi frowned at her, too focused on his annoyance to notice the way Suguru hid his mouth behind his palm, turning away, or the way that Satoru had to press his lips together to prevent a laugh from escaping.
“I went to medical school for years. I know what I’m talking about, brat.”
Megumi raised an eyebrow. “So? Sasuke trained with Orochimaru for a long time, too, but he still didn’t know everything. Also, don’t call me a brat. That’s mean.”
Shoko huffed out a short laugh. “Yeah, right. Two and a half years isn’t the same as seven.”
“So you did watch Naruto.”
“Obviously.”
“Actually, Sakura’s kind of a doctor, too.”
Shoko wrinkled her nose. “I’m way cooler than her.”
“Yeah, but she’s pretty.” Across the table, Suguru kicked Satoru’s ankle to stifle a giggle.
“You should take a DNA test, seriously.” Shoko said dryly, fixing Satoru with an unimpressed stare. “You two are freakishly, disgustingly alike.”
“That’s a compliment if I’ve ever heard one.” Satoru grinned, and Shoko rolled her eyes.
Megumi tugged at Shoko’s sleeve, drawing her attention back to him. “I’m not a freak or disgusting. If you keep calling me mean things, I’m going to tell Yaga-sensei.”
“Who the fuck is Yaga-sensei?”
“I’m going to tell Kento you said a bad word, too.”
“Oh my God,” Shoko mumbled, wrenching her purse open and rifling through it. “I can’t do this. Suguru, I’m going out for a smoke.”
“Oh,” Suguru cleared his throat, very aware of the way three pairs of eyes now focused on him. “I’ve, uh, quit actually.”
Shoko huffed out a short laugh as she shoved her lighter into her pocket. “Sure, man. You’ve been saying that for years.”
“For real, this time.” Suguru insisted, looking over at Megumi, who was still glaring at Shoko. She followed his gaze and rolled her eyes. “Megumi doesn’t like it.”
Megumi nodded. “Smoking’s very bad for you. You should stop it, Shoko.”
“You don’t get to call me Shoko. I’m Ieiri-san to you.”
“Okay. You should stop it, Ieiri-san.”
“Whatever,” Shoko mumbled, standing to her feet. “I’m going out for a not smoke then.”
“Have fun.” Suguru called out. Satoru waved.
Once she disappeared through the door of the restaurant, Megumi turned back to his food, brows still occupied by a frown as he attempted to spear a pea with his fork. Satoru nudged Suguru’s shoulder. “I thought you said she had a niece.”
Suguru frowned as he pushed his plate towards Satoru, holding his fork out. Satoru waved his own back at him, so Suguru placed it on his tissue instead. “She does. Why?”
“She seemed very… caught off guard, just now.”
Both men looked over at Megumi again, who was now holding the pea in place with his left index finger and thumb, his right hand gripping the fork like a murder weapon. “I think that has more to do with Megumi being Megumi, rather than Megumi being a kid.”
At the mention of his name, Megumi redirected his glare at the two adults across from him. “I’m not a kid. I’m almost seven years old.”
Suguru sighed. “Finish your food, Megumi.” A non-committal grunt.
Satoru grinned, using his fork to carve out a small chunk of the slice of strawberry cake in front of him. “It’s funny. Shoko doesn’t seem like the type to get fazed by much.”
“Again, I feel like he’s an exception to much.”
Before Satoru could reply, Megumi’s weapon (fork) made contact with its target (pea), though not through the center. Suguru could only watch, powerless, as it ricocheted off the boy’s plate, hitting Satoru in the forehead with a satisfying thump. They all stayed silent as it rolled down Satoru’s face, finally settling on one of the dollops of cream atop his cake.
Honestly? Suguru thought it was pretty impressive, all things considered.
“Megumi.”
“Yes.”
“There’s a pea in my dessert.”
Megumi peered over at the offending item with a distant sort of curiosity, like he wasn’t the one responsible for its sudden change in location. “Yes.”
“There shouldn't be a pea in my dessert.”
Megumi looked over at Suguru, then back at his father. “Vegetables are good for you.”
“Really,” Satoru bit out through gritted teeth, elbowing Suguru when he snorted.
“Really. You can ask Ieiri-san.”
“You kind of sounded like a Dr. Seuss book, just then.” Suguru cut in, frowning in thought. “There’s a pea in my dessert. There shouldn't be a pea, in my dessert. Can’t you see, there’s a pea, that shouldn’t be in my dessert? Can’t you —”
“I think Suguru’s a kid, not me.” Megumi chimed in absentmindedly, now focused on another pea on his plate.
“Fu — freaking, will you stop that, Megumi? If you get another one in my dessert I’m going to order you another side of peas, cover them in olive oil, and make you eat them all with a plastic fork.” A snort. “And Suguru, really? I feel like I’m raising two kids.”
“Aw, c’mon.” Suguru grinned, reaching over to ruffle Satoru’s hair. Satoru smacked the hand away, but allowed the other man to lace their fingers together instead and press a kiss to the back of his hand, though he rolled his eyes as Suguru did so. “It’s funny, like you said.”
Satoru scowled. “I wasn’t referring to this, you dick.”
“No bad words. Also, that’s yucky.” Megumi said, pointing his fork at their intertwined hands. Suguru raised an eyebrow, pressed another kiss to the back of Satoru’s hand, before he leant over to leave more soft ones all over the other man’s face. Satoru rolled his eyes again, but there was a small smile on his face, which eventually gave way to a laugh when Suguru kissed the tip of his nose. “Stop it. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Peas on dessert are yucky, Megumi. Not love.” Satoru grinned, and Suguru nodded in mock-seriousness.
When Megumi rolled his eyes, the two men made eye contact. They paused for a second, the briefest of seconds, before simultaneously reaching over the table to poke and prod at Megumi — they ruffled his hair, pinched his cheeks, even smeared some of the cream from Satoru’s dessert on him. Megumi protested enthusiastically throughout the entire ordeal, wriggling in his seat and whining something about stop it, your hands are sticky, but they only let up once Suguru had managed to fashion Megumi’s hair into a pseudo-mohawk of sorts, and Satoru had painted whiskers on the boy’s face with frosting.
“You two are pathetic.”
“Discipline isn’t pathetic, Shoko.” Next to Suguru, Satoru pulled at the skin under his left eye and stuck out his tongue. Shoko rolled her eyes.
“Here,” Shoko said, handing Megumi a tissue as she settled back into her seat next to him. As he worked to wipe his face clean, she placed another item in front of him. “Grabbed it from the hospital before I left.”
Megumi frowned down at it as he absentmindedly swiped at his face. “Is it cherry?”
Shoko shrugged, taking the tissue from him and wiping a spot he missed, clicking her tongue in annoyance when he began writhing under her grip. “Dunno. Maybe.”
“I like strawberry the best.”
“You — fine, then. I’m taking it back.”
“No, it’s okay.” Megumi said, the coolness of his tone a stark contrast to the speed with which he slammed his hand down over the lollipop. “I can take it.”
Suguru sighed. “People normally just say thank you, Megumi.”
Megumi handed the lollipop to Suguru, who tore open its wrapping before returning it to him. “Okay. Thank you, Megumi.”
Shoko narrowed her eyes. “You think you’re so funny, huh?”
“My dad likes my jokes.”
“And that’s supposed to convince me?”
“Alright, alright, break it up. Here, Shoko, have some of our dessert as a thank you for the little gift you got Megumi. It’s seriously super good — the strawberries, especially.” Satoru chirped, pushing his dessert towards Shoko. There was now a strawberry suspiciously placed atop where Megumi’s pea had landed earlier, out of place in comparison to the rest of the slice.
Satoru grinned over at Suguru. Suguru rolled his eyes.
Two years later.
“The three bears from Goldilocks and the three bears.”
“No.”
“Team 7, but with Kakashi instead of Sakura.”
Megumi frowned at Suguru, then looked back at the paper in his hand. “No. Guess again.”
Suguru sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Megumi, we’ve been doing this for like, fifteen minutes. As much as I wish I could figure out what you’ve drawn, I really can’t.” Suguru looked over at Satoru. “You’re up.”
Satoru pursed his lips, placing his index finger and thumb on his chin. “I see the next Mona Lisa. No, the next Starry Night.”
Suguru raised an eyebrow, amused. “One of those paintings is of a person, and the other is of a setting. Can you really not tell what the focus of Megumi’s painting is?”
“Of course I can!” Satoru looked back at the piece of paper Megumi held up, squinting until realisation washed over his features. “Dinosaur. This is a retelling of the Ice Age, right? I can even see the meteor in the corner.”
Megumi looked down at where Satoru was pointing at the paper. “That’s a person. And that’s the sun, not a meteor.”
Satoru, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed. “Ah, really? Sorry, Megumi. Your art is just too advanced!”
Suguru has to turn his snort into a cough. “Sure, that.”
Megumi frowned, lowering his hands. “Nevermind.”
“No, wait!” Satoru reached out to hold Megumi’s wrist, holding him in place. “Megumi, we’re not saying your painting’s bad, we just don’t understand it. Right, Suguru?”
Suguru frowned, but when Satoru shot a threatening glare at him, he sighed and leaned forward, taking the paper from Megumi’s hands. “Art is very complicated, and your dad’s very stupid. He doesn’t know anything, so you have to be patient with him.” Satoru rolled his eyes.
Megumi looked back and forth between the two men, gaze disbelieving, before looking down. “You’re going to make fun of me.”
“Absolutely not,” Satoru assured him, pulling the boy into his lap. Satoru positioned Megumi so that his side was pressed against him, the rest of him facing Suguru. “Come on, tell us.”
Megumi clenched his fists, then looked up at Suguru. “I’ll tell you, Dad. Suguru, cover your ears.”
Suguru blinked, surprised, and did his best to ignore the pang of disappointment that reverberated through him. “Oh. Sure.” He moved to do as he was told, pointedly ignoring Satoru’s look of sympathy. Because it was stupid, really — he hadn’t even been that invested in figuring out the painting’s theme in the first place. And at the end of the day, of course he’d rather talk to his father over his father’s boyfriend. As much as it sucked, it made sense.
Once Suguru’s hands were securely fastened over his ears, Megumi’s painting now on his lap, Megumi leaned towards Satoru, whispering something into his ear. Suguru watched Satoru’s expression morph from a casual smile, to wide eyes, and then a blinding grin. Satoru whispered something back at Megumi, who frowned and shook his head.
Before he could even think to say or ask anything, Megumi tapped one of Suguru’s elbows gently, then pointed at his own ear. “You can take them off, now.”
Satoru took the art from Suguru’s lap and smiled down at it fondly. “Megumi, wash up. We’ll have dinner in a bit.”
Megumi nodded, looked up at Suguru again with an unreadable something in his eyes, and hopped off Satoru’s lap. Suguru watched him disappear into his room, and it was only when the door was fully shut that he allowed himself to sink into the couch, sighing.
Satoru redirected his smile at Suguru, now with an eyebrow raised. “You okay over there?”
Suguru shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re worse than Megumi sometimes, honestly,” Satoru chided softly, and when Suguru glared over at him, he widened his grin and wrapped an arm around Suguru, pulling the other man into him. “Hey, don’t look so upset. It’s nothing personal.”
Suguru huffed out a short laugh, muffled by the way his face was pressed against Satoru’s chest. He wrapped an arm around the other man’s waist. “Yeah, right. He couldn’t have made it more obvious that he didn’t want me to know.”
Satoru hummed in idle acknowledgment and brought his hand up to card through Suguru’s hair. “That’s not true.”
“Yeah? What’s the painting of, then?” When Suguru looked up at him, Satoru looked away, back to the painting. “See.”
“He told me not to tell you —” Suguru rolled his eyes, and Satoru lightly flicked his temple. “Let me finish, you big baby. He told me not to tell you because he still wants you to guess, but he didn’t say I couldn’t give you any hints.”
Suguru frowned. “Hints?”
“You know, context clues.” Satoru lowered the painting so that it was now directly in front of Suguru’s face. “These are all humans — two adults and one kid. One adult has white hair, the other has long black hair — that’s what that is, by the way. Not a cape, like I thought. Anyway. The kid has spiky black hair. And, it was your birthday two days ago.”
Suguru’s eyes widened as the realisation began to dawn on him. Once it fully hit him, he sat up, looking over at Satoru. “No way,” he breathed. Satoru grinned.
“Yes way,” Satoru said. “He’d apparently finished it a couple of days ago, but Yaga-sensei only lets them clear out their desks and bring everything home at the end of the week, so.”
“This is —” Suguru reached out to take the painting from Satoru, running his fingers over the details. Now armed with Satoru’s context clues, he could finally see what Megumi had been trying to get him to guess — the three of them, in a park or garden of some sort, the sun (definitely not a meteor) shining down on them. Painting-Megumi stood in between Painting-Suguru and Painting-Satoru, who were holding hands, and all three of them wore giant smiles. “It’s us.”
“That’s not even the best part,” Satoru said, letting his head fall onto Suguru’s shoulder as he hugged Suguru’s arm. “Look at the back.”
Suguru frowned down at Satoru, confused, but did as instructed. There wasn’t any art on the back, just an identification sticker in the top right corner that set out Megumi’s name, the date, his class, and —
Name of artwork: My Family
“What the fuck,” Suguru whispered, his grip on the artwork tightening instinctively. “What the fuck.”
“I told you it wasn’t a big deal,” Satoru huffed, but his smile betrayed the possibility of any genuine annoyance. “Go apologise to Megumi later. He was worried that you weren’t properly trying to guess it because you thought it was stupid.”
“Of course I’ll apologise,” Suguru mumbled, flipping the page over to look at the painting again. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest, the way it hammered against his ribs violently. “Fucking — let’s go to Universal, this weekend. Or Disneyland. Does he have a preference? Doesn’t matter. We can do both.”
Satoru rolled his eyes. “I said apologise, not smother and spoil.”
“I don’t care.” Suguru glanced down at Satoru, then back at the artwork. Painting-Suguru held a briefcase in his free hand, and Suguru was pretty sure the smudge of blue on his ‘chest’ was meant to represent the tie Megumi and Satoru had picked out for him as a gift when he finally made senior associate. “He’s our son.”
“Sap,” Satoru muttered, but he leaned up to press a kiss to Suguru’s cheek all the same. When Suguru turned to look at him again, tears in his eyes and hands trembling, Satoru’s smile widened and he reached up to pull Suguru towards him and kiss his lips instead. “He’s been our son for a while, now.”
One year later.
Suguru eyed the package on the coffee table with so much disdain that the average bystander would probably assume it was a bomb. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I just feel like it’s going to get stuck, and I didn’t grow my hair out for this long to have to cut it all off.”
“Suguru, please!” Yuji whined, dramatically falling over so that his arms were splayed across Suguru’s lap and his legs were flat against the floor, making a thwap, thwap sound each time he kicked them. Suguru rolled his eyes. “If I can’t practice, how am I supposed to learn how to do it right?”
“He tried it out on me last week during lunch, and on Sukuna last time I went to his house,” Megumi cut in, crossing his legs as he sat down on the floor opposite them. “Nothing happened.”
“You guys have like, grass for hair. Mine’s long; it’s more likely to get tangled.” Suguru countered.
Yuji groaned. “You said we could do whatever we wanted today.”
“I meant that we could go to the movies, head to the park — something normal like that. Not braiding my hair.” Suguru said, frowning as he pushed the package away from his side of the coffee table. “Why do you care so much about learning how to braid hair, anyway?”
Yuji looked up at him, serious. “Dad said that I have to grow up and become useful to society.”
“And you think braiding hair is the way to go?”
Megumi rolled his eyes as he reached over to grab one of the soda cans placed on the coffee table. “He wants to impress Nobara.”
Yuji flushed a bright red. “I do not!”
“She came in to school the other day with really nice braids,” Megumi explained, ignoring his friend’s protests. “Then Yuji asked her if she got her mom or dad to help. She said she did it herself, because her mom was already at work and men are useless. So now Yuji wants to show her he’s not useless.”
Suguru huffed out a short laugh and looked down at the boy in question. “Seriously?”
“…I don’t want to be a useless man, Suguru.”
“Alright, fine.” Suguru sighed, his response barely audible over Yuji’s whoop of joy. Yuji reached over the coffee table to give Megumi a high-five, which was returned along with another eyeroll. “But only one braid, and out of two fingers’ width of hair.”
“What? That’s so little.” Yuji huffed. He sat up on his knees and looked up at Suguru, determination blazing in his eyes. “Dad and Megumi let me do as many as I needed to cover all of their hair. Megumi had like, twenty, I think.”
Megumi nodded. “Twenty-one. We counted.”
Suguru narrowed his eyes at Yuji. “Okay, well it’s my hair this time, not your dad’s or Megumi’s. Two braids, three fingers’ width of hair.”
“No way. Four braids, four fingers’ width of hair.”
“Three braids, but I get to decide if you’ve used too much hair and I can make you reduce the amount.” Suguru said. “Final offer. Take it or leave it.”
Yuji frowned at the floor. “Fine.”
Noticing the negotiation’s conclusion, Megumi slid the packet of small, pink rubber bands back towards Suguru and Yuji again, taking another sip from his can. “You should do one on the left, one on the right, and one in the middle.”
“No you should not,” Suguru fired back immediately. Megumi frowned at him. “That’s going to look so ugly.”
“I’m a very good braider. If you don’t look good after I finish, that’s your fault, not mine.” Yuji grinned, moving so that he was behind Suguru. When Suguru tried to turn around and glare at him, Yuji stuck his hand to the top of Suguru’s head, preventing him from turning. “See? You’re already trying to ruin it.”
“You just said you needed to practice to learn how to do it properly. That doesn’t sound like you’re a ‘very good braider’.”
“Practice makes perfect. That’s what Yaga-sensei says.” Megumi said, getting up from his spot by the table to join Yuji and oversee his progress.
Suguru frowned at the floor. “Braid Yaga-sensei’s hair then, what the hell.” He muttered.
Neither boy responded, far more focused on carving out three braid-worthy sections of Suguru’s hair. After a few yanks of hair, countless painful scrapes of nails against Suguru’s scalp, and at one point, the snap of a rubber band against the back of Suguru’s neck, the boys sat back, their masterpiece completed.
“Wait, doesn’t the middle one look really good?” Yuji asked, getting to his feet to admire his creation.
Megumi gave Suguru a cursory once-over, then got to his feet as well. “I did most of the work on that one. You only put the second rubber band on it.”
“No, but I told you how much hair to use and then how much to braid it.”
“No you didn’t. You keep doing this to my hair so I learned it.”
“…Megumi. Please don’t braid Nobara’s hair.”
A smack. “What? I don’t even want to.”
“Can I see now?” Suguru interrupted, reaching out blindly behind him to nudge the boys’ shins. “Megumi, get the hand-held mirror Satoru always uses. It’s either in our room or the bathroom.”
Megumi winced. “I think he took that to work.”
Suguru sighed. “No, he bought a travel-size compact one last week.”
There’s a soft groan, which is then quickly replaced with the sound of Megumi’s feet against the floor, moving towards the direction of the master bedroom. Yuji flopped onto the couch, right above where Suguru sat on the floor, and grinned down at him. Suguru rolled his eyes.
“Here,” Megumi eventually said, handing the mirror to Suguru. Suguru nodded in thanks before he took it from the boy, and then —
“Oh.”
Yuji leaned towards Suguru, eyes shining. “Yeah? What do you think?”
The boys had stuck to Megumi’s original plan — not all of Suguru’s hair had been sectioned into braids, but there was one next to each of his temples, and one at the back of his head, around where he’d normally tie his bun. They’d also decided to tie a rubber band both at the beginning and end of the braid, which meant that the braids jutted out of his head, like deformed antennae.
“These are…” Suguru trailed off, tilting his head to get a better view of each braid, doing his best to keep his expression and voice as neutral as possible. “These are braids, definitely.”
Yuji nodded, satisfied, and Megumi sat on the couch next to him, reaching for his earlier abandoned drink. “He’s speechless, Megumi. I think we did a good job.”
Megumi huffed out a proud laugh, watching Suguru continue to take in his transformation. “Obviously. Suguru doesn’t know how to do his hair. He only ties it in a full bun or half bun, or leaves it open.”
Suguru looked up from his reflection to glare at Megumi. “Three hairstyles are plenty.”
Megumi shrugged. “Now you have four.”
“Okay, well, now that you two are done and are satisfied with your result, I’m taking these out. Say goodbye, boys.” Suguru announced, wincing at the thought of actually taking the rubber bands out of his hair. He already knew they’d all be tangled in his hair.
Yuji pouted. “What, already?”
“You have to keep them in until Dad comes home,” Megumi said, allowing Yuji to take the can from his hands and take a sip. “When I told him Yuji was going to braid your hair, he said he wanted to see.”
Suguru felt all the colour drain from his face. “You — told Satoru? About this?”
Megumi frowned, confused. “Yeah. He asked what Yuji and I had planned for today in the morning, before he went to work, so I told him.”
Yuji nodded enthusiastically. “He seemed really excited, too!”
“I’m never going to live this down,” Suguru muttered, sighing and letting his forehead rest against the hand-held mirror.
The sound of the front door unlocking captured the boys’ attention before they could think to ask Suguru what he'd meant. Satoru stepped in, holding up a bag with a lopsided grin on his face. “Megumi, your favourite parent’s back!”
Megumi rolled his eyes as Yuji scrambled out of his seat, eager to see what Satoru had brought back for them. “I don’t have a favourite.”
Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Letting you do this to me doesn’t get me in the lead?”
“Why would it?”
“Yeah, Suguru, why would it?” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to his boyfriend and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey. I’m home.”
“Welcome back,” Suguru mumbled, rolling his eyes before turning his attention back to Megumi. “Satoru’s way too fussy about his hair, so he’d never let you practice braiding on it. I feel like I should get bonus points for that.”
Satoru frowned, fully sitting down by Suguru and grabbing one of the cans from the coffee table.“That’s so not true,” he huffed, moving to open the can. Before he could do so, though, Suguru slid his unfinished, already opened can towards Satoru, so Satoru took it instead, mumbling a quiet thank you before he continued: “I definitely would’ve offered if I could have. But, unfortunately, my hair isn’t as long as Suguru’s, so it would be way harder, and wouldn’t look as good.”
Yuji, now having returned with an armful of snacks taken from Satoru’s bag, nodded. Megumi took one of the bags of potato chips as he sat down. “That’s true. Suguru’s hair was really easy to braid.”
“You only fully braided one, though. I had to do the —”
“No, but I could tell even from that one braid. That’s how easy his hair was.” Megumi rolled his eyes.
Suguru ignored the boys, disbelieving eyes fixed on Satoru instead. “Look as good. Really?”
Satoru’s grin widened. “Oh, for sure,” he said, reaching out to tuck Suguru’s bangs behind his ear. “Easily your best look. The boys really outdid themselves here. Seeing you like this makes me infinitely glad to be your boyfriend.”
Suguru glared at him. “You suck.”
“Later,” Satoru winked, waving him off. “Megumi, Yuji, stand by Suguru. I need to take a picture of you guys with your work.”
Suguru had barely finished processing the first part of Satoru’s remark when the second half’s meaning hit. “What the — no way. No pictures.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Suguru. Like I said, this is good stuff. We need something to remember the boys’ incredible talent by, right?” Satoru winked at him as he shuffled so that he was now in front of Suguru.
“Yeah, Suguru, don’t be a spoiled sport.” Yuji grinned, now standing on Suguru’s left. When Suguru glared up at him, he poked Suguru’s cheek.
“You can’t even see the one in the back,” Megumi mumbled, craning his head from where he now stood by Suguru’s right to look at the braid in question.
“Oh, good point.” Satoru said, frowning. After a few dangerous seconds, his face lit up. “Megumi, hold it up.”
Suguru blinked. “What?”
“Yeah, hold it up over his head, just like — there, that’s it.” Satoru directed, leaning over Suguru to position Megumi’s hands. “Yuji, you hold it too, with your right hand.”
Yuji did as he was told, holding up a peace sign with his free hand. He paused, then frowned over at Megumi. “Megumi, do something with your other hand too!”
Satoru nodded, grinning. “Yeah, Megumi. Don’t be boring.”
Megumi clicked his tongue, annoyed, but gave a weak thumbs up with his left hand. Yuji beamed.
“Alright, everyone huddle in closer! Suguru, quit looking at the camera like it’s your worst enemy. That’s really not the energy we’re trying to capture here.”
Suguru intensified his glare. “The camera isn’t my worst enemy. You are.”
“Come on, smile! Megumi, you too. Only Yuji’s posing right — ah, finally, there we go!” Satoru leaned back, smiling down at his phone. “Oh, this is a good one!”
Megumi leaned down to look. “Yuji’s eyes are halfway closed.”
“Huh? No way! Satoru, take another one!”
“Absolutely not,” Suguru interrupted, rising to his feet. When Yuji began whining, tugging at his pant leg, he ruffled the boy’s hair, grinning at the disgruntled squawk it earned him. “I’m taking these out, now.”
“But I —”
“Weren’t you guys supposed to try out the new Smash Bros. game? If you don’t quit crying like a baby, you won’t get to play it before your dad comes to get you.”
Yuji frowned up at him. “I’m not a baby,” he huffed, but he let the matter drop after blowing a raspberry at the man. Megumi grabbed his wrist, and they headed into his room to find the game, with Yuji mumbling something about how Nobara’s hair might still be easier to braid than Suguru’s, given that it was much shorter, while Megumi nodded absentmindedly.
“You really do look good, though.” Satoru murmured, now standing as well. Suguru rolled his eyes, but let Satoru feel each of the braids and smooth down any stray hairs. “Well, whatever. I’ve gotten everything I want out of this already, so I’ll help you take them out.”
Suguru frowned, unease pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Everything you want?”
Satoru turned his phone around and smirked. “New wallpaper.”
“You wouldn’t — Satoru.” Satoru only laughed as Suguru lunged at him, holding his phone over his head. God, did Suguru hate the few centimetres the other had over him. “I’m serious. You need to change that, what the fuck?”
“No way,” Satoru pressed a kiss to the top of Suguru’s head, relishing the glare he got in response. “Not until I get something better, anyway.”
Suguru shoved Satoru’s face away. “I’m going to snap your phone in half.”
“That’s okay. I emailed a copy to myself already.”
“Motherfucker.”
“It’s father fucker, actu — ow, Suguru.”
Six months later.
“If you don’t stop crying, Megumi’s going to get mad at you.”
Satoru frowned, rubbing the spot on his side that Suguru had elbowed just seconds earlier. “He’s our son, Suguru. Of course I’m going to cry at his graduation.”
Suguru rolled his eyes, pointedly ignoring the way they stung. “You’re so dramatic. He’s definitely not going to let us come to the next one.”
“Next one,” Satoru mumbled mournfully, and Suguru sighed, reaching out to rub comforting circles into Satoru’s back.
“You couldn’t have cried any louder, Dad,” a voice cut in. Suguru looked up to see Megumi in front of them, scowling. “Even I could barely hear them call my name, and I was the one on stage.”
“Can you blame me?” Satoru whined, pulling out of Suguru’s hold to reach out and hug Megumi. “You look so grown up, Megumi. I remember the day you were born, such a small baby —”
Megumi rolled his eyes, but his hand came around to pat Satoru's back comfortingly nonetheless. “You weren’t even there.”
“I was there in my heart,” Satoru huffed, pulling away. Megumi stared at Suguru, as if to say are you seeing this?, and Suguru shrugged. “You’re still twelve. Don’t skip ahead to being a mean, yucky teenager just yet.”
Suguru sighed, lightly smacking Satoru up the backside of his head. The corner of Megumi’s mouth quirked upwards as Satoru immediately launched into a petty rant, telling Suguru that he was the reason Megumi had grown up to be so mean, and Suguru ignored him, turning to Megumi instead and holding out a fist. “Congratulations, kid.”
Megumi nodded and completed the fist-bump. “Thanks.”
“Feel any more grown up?” Suguru asked.
Megumi shrugged. “Not really. It kind of just feels like I had to put on a suit and stand for ages. Besides, most of my friends are going to the same middle school as me, so it’ll probably be fine.”
Suguru grinned. “It’ll definitely be fine.”
Next to him, Satoru took a deep breath, composing himself. He took the handkerchief Suguru held out to him, dabbing his eyes, then paused to look at Megumi, frowning. After a few seconds, he began attacking Megumi’s face, too.
“Can you get off,” Megumi huffed, stubbornly refusing to give into Satoru’s request to just stay still for a second, damnit.
“No son of mine is going to have ugly graduation pictures. Especially when he has such handsome fathers.” Satoru declared, shoving the handkerchief back towards Suguru without looking. “Straighten your tie. And are you sure that you’re still committed this porcupine look? Because it’s super childish. None of the pretty middle school girls are going to think you’re cool.”
Megumi ducked as Satoru reached for his hair, and glared. “Go back to crying. You were way less annoying when you were crying.”
Satoru rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Megumi, each time I hold one of these stupid spikes, I can hear the crunch of the hair gel.”
“You’re supposed to hear it.”
“Like hell you are, you —”
“Alright, time-out.” Suguru said, swatting Satoru’s hand away. “Where’s Yuji and the rest?”
“They all went to see their parents, too. Yuji told us to meet back at the entrance in fifteen minutes.” Megumi said, still glaring at Satoru. Eventually, he straightened up, as if he’d suddenly remembered something, and turned to look at Suguru, instead. “And, um, we wanted you to take the pictures for us, Suguru.”
Suguru blinked. “Me?”
“Yeah. The ones you took during Christmas were really nice. And Dad always gets mushy at big events, so his photos get super shaky and you can’t see anything.”
“Well, excuse me for having emotions.”
“I’d love to.” Suguru agreed, smiling serenely even as he kicked Satoru’s ankle.
Megumi mirrored his expression, if only faintly and for a split second, before jolting at something and reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Oh. Maki and the others want to take a baseball club picture.”
Suguru nodded. “Go for it. We’ll meet you out front in fifteen.”
“Speaking of the front, Megumi, let me —”
“I’m going,” Megumi bit out, swatting his father’s hand away from his hair for what felt like the millionth time in the span of mere minutes. “See you guys later.”
Satoru scowled as Megumi blended into the crowd, disappearing from their line of sight. “He’s such a brat, really.”
Suguru hummed in acknowledgment as he reached down for Satoru’s hand again. “Must’ve gotten it from his father.”
“Yeah, you.” Satoru clarified. “I fear what he’ll grow up to become.”
In front of them, a woman was directing two little girls, telling them how to pose for the camera properly. They cycled through variations of peace signs and hand and finger hearts, before simply looping their arms around each other, giggling as the woman continued to take pictures.
Suguru looked over at Satoru. “You doing okay?”
“I’m okay,” Satoru sighed, squeezing Suguru’s hand. Suguru smiled as he felt a familiar weight on his shoulder. “It’s just weird. I really do feel like he’s still a baby, like his cries for formula will yank me out of this strange dream I’m having, soon.”
Suguru huffed out a short laugh. “I’d say it’s a pretty normal dream, all things concerned.”
“Normal is subjective,” Satoru said, and Suguru rolled his eyes. “You? You alright?”
“Yeah,” Suguru mumbled, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Satoru’s head. “I’m still trying to come to terms with him being in a suit, though. It’s hard to remember that he used to have pretty much all of Sasuke’s lines in Naruto memorised when he looks like this.”
Satoru snorted. “Ask him about Danzo and he’ll be more than happy to remind you, I’m sure.”
“Pass.” Suguru said, wincing. “Just — you know what I mean. I almost feel like the Megumi that found me on the train and the Megumi here today are two different people. And he’s still growing, so it’ll be like every time we get used to the Megumi in front of us, he changes into a new one. Which isn’t bad, of course, but — hard. Yeah.”
“Imagine them all in a room,” Satoru said, gesturing vaguely in front of them. “A sea of Megumis, a new one popping up each time he changes.”
Suguru wrinkled his nose, smiling. “They’d probably hate each other. Like, if the Santa believer Megumi met the ‘I’m-too-cool-to-believe-in-any-folktales’ Megumi.”
Satoru huffed out a short laugh, then turned his head to look up at Suguru. When Suguru met his gaze, he shot him a knowing grin. “You’re going to cry.”
Suguru frowned. “What?”
“You’re totally going to cry. Look —” Satoru stood up straight and grabbed Suguru’s face, turning it so that their noses were centimetres apart. “— those are definitely tears. Definitely.”
“You’re just saying shit for the sake of it.”
“Your ears are red. And your nose is red. The last time you looked like this was when Megumi’s baseball team won their tournament last year and he asked to go up on your shoulders. When we got home, you were crying harder than I’ve probably cried in my entire life.”
“Shut up.”
“Ah, defensive. Means I’m right.”
“I said shut up,” Suguru bit out hoarsely, pushing his face into Satoru’s shoulder. Satoru stumbled back, startled, before recovering and wrapping two strong arms around Suguru, using one hand to pat his back. Suguru pulled at Satoru’s tie lamely, an anchor to tide him over the flood that was threatening to break loose.
“You really are such a brat, Suguru.” Satoru mumbled into his hair, fond, and Suguru rolled his eyes, despite knowing it wouldn’t be seen. “Well, it’s fine. I’m all cried out, so I can look after you now.”
“You’re never cried out. You have way too many tears.” Suguru muttered, voice muffled by fabric.
Satoru grinned. “That’s right, my sweet baby. Let it all out.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“Oh, how scary.”
“I mean it.”
“Of course.”