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insfiringyou · 2 years

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BTS - Waiting Room (Jungkook x Young-soon)

Set some time after ‘Arborglyph’, Young-soon waits expectantly after sending a voicemail message to Jungkook who is away for the weekend.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook & our full masterlist of fanart and fanfictions can be found here

If you wish to follow all member’s storylines in chronological order from the beginning, you can find them listed here.

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The plastic chair was really uncomfortable against her backside and she shuffled, a frown fixed on her face. On the opposite side of the room, the woman across from her gave her a cautionary glance, her own hands folded patiently on her lap. She herself wasn’t feeling so patient and her eyes flickered involuntarily to the door in the corner, where the previous appointment was undoubtedly running over. She hated waiting, that was all. Waiting and seeing and overthinking. It occurred to her, not for the first time this afternoon, that if she hadn’t waited so long in the first place, she wouldn’t be in this situation. Well…that wasn’t necessarily true. She knew deep down, past the intrinsically logical, rational, pragmatic part of her brain that there was at least a strong chance she’d be in this waiting room. Perhaps not now; now she’d rather be nursing a hot cup of tea in bed, watching reruns of Thirty Nine. Though maybe tea was out of the question. She paused, almost laughing, as though that was the worst of her problems. She might have to switch to decaf. Her expression must have changed, because the woman shot her another glance. Young-soon returned the look politely, almost apologetically, though she didn’t know what was so interesting. Either she had grown a third head in the past thirty minutes, or the woman was just plain rude. She wondered, vaguely, what the woman was doing here. She was older, at least fifty or sixty, and while she hated to judge, she doubted it was the same kind of appointment she was keeping. Perhaps a prolapse. That would explain the sour expression.

Anxiously she checked her watch and was amazed to find only three minutes had passed since her last check. How on Earth could that be? She considered dialling again, though the signs on the wall forbade it, instead directing the patient to the nearest cell phone zone. The walk suddenly seemed like an unnecessary trip; one that might cost her the appointment, and she had been lucky to be seen on the same day. If it weren’t such a pressing situation, she was told, she would have been invited back in three weeks for another screening. But, needs must, and jumping the queue on this occasion was to be forgiven by all accounts.

The clock above the reception desk, just visible from her position on the mother-of-all-hard-chairs, was two minutes fast. The place had a sterile, clinical smell she associated with dentists and the thought alone was almost enough to set her fillings on edge. She had hated the dentist as a child; had refused to go for years until a cavity forced that little boycott away and she had skulked, tail between her legs, to get it fixed. It had all turned out fine. The dentist had given her a sticker at the end and her parents had taken her to Pizza Hut.

The thought of pizza now was enough to make her want to throw up. The upchucking had been part of what drove her to the GP in the first place. She thought she might be lactose intolerant. Now, the memory only made her breasts feel slightly sore. She would be making enough of that, soon enough, she figured. It was almost enough to make her laugh, or cry. She had all but eliminated dairy from her diet, though the sickness had remained. And she’d gained almost 3 Kilograms. That she’d blamed on her cycle, which had been off for the past year, though her almost-monthly bouts of PMS had been shockingly regular. In the end, it all came down to the little discovery the nurse had made during the internal check. Her coil had slipped, that was all. Her coil had slipped, probably during a pretty heavy routine pounding; though the nurse had not said as much, and the resulting cramps and irregularity had not been picked up on by her, primarily because that was to be expected. That was just part of being a woman. Her periods had always been a little on the heavier side; her mom had told her it ran in the family. Her first period, slightly premature at eleven, had been a blood bath. It made her think of that Stephen King movie with the twins, though she had seen that much later, of course. Jungkook had watched the scene from behind webbed fingers, a nervous smile fixed on his face; watching her reaction more than anything. And now she was having twins of her own. Life works in mysterious ways.

The doctor had been understanding, though vaguely distant, as though she were wasting her time. It wasn’t until she mentioned the periods the alarm bells sounded and something in the older woman’s expression changed. The test had quickly followed and an emergency ultrasound was arranged which confirmed the diagnosis, along with the second shocker of the day. It wasn’t even midday yet. The follow up, swiftly booked for three o’clock, was to decide what came next. The doctor had years of experience, including with twins and such pregnancies as hers, she had been reassured, and would advise on whether the device…the little, pesky device which had gotten her into trouble in the first place…was to stay or go. But ultimately, there were risks both ways and the final decision would come down to her. As though she were qualified to make that decision…

She hadn’t broken down then or after. It was all still too crazy for her mind to process. She imagined that would come later, and when it finally did, there would be no stopping it. Hopefully by then, this first part would all be over. She’d be at home. Tea or no tea; caffeinated or decaf, and she might or might not watch Thirty Nine. She’d seen it already, but liked Kim Ji-hyun. Either way, there would certainly be a duvet involved and once her sickness was under control, she was going to drink a big fat glass of milk. Maybe two. Unless that was banned too. She remembered reading an article once about soft cheese, though hadn’t paid much attention. Articles on pregnancy had always been Ha-yoon’s thing. She herself had never been more than vaguely interested. Motherhood wasn’t on the cards until she was much older. Maybe married. Certainly more prepared. Though, wasn’t she older now? Sometimes she forgot that she was closer to forty than thirty, at least if she based it on Korean age. Internationally, she was perfectly balanced between those two milestones. Maybe if she’d paid more attention to those articles, read so often by Ha-yoon in the breakroom at her old job, she’d have figured out her predicament well before the onset of her second trimester which, she was told, was in as little as two weeks. She had only a basic understanding of the trimesters, their significance and meanings only just making themselves known to her.

The ultrasound had been uncomfortable, though not as bad as the fullness of her bladder, which she hadn’t relieved since this morning. Perhaps naively, she had asked whether they could determine the gender of the baby, now it seemed certain that was what she was having. The nurse had smiled and shook her head, though the news that followed-the one about the “double dose of trouble”- had been enough to shake all thoughts of gender out of her head. Now, her only thought had been to call her mom, and she almost had, on the short walk from the maternity ward to Obs and Gynae. That basic, almost childlike instinct to sob and ask what she should do was overwhelming, but she held off long enough to realise it was not her mother she should be calling. Instead, she found one of those mythical cell phone zones, always advertised but rarely seen, in the hospital corridor and called Jungkook. He was away for the weekend in Seoul, visiting friends, and it had gone straight to voicemail which was just as well. She didn’t know what she would have told him over the phone anyway. Instead, she left a message, checking he was well and adding for him to remember to update his driving licence photo while he was in town. Cautiously, almost ashamedly, she hung up and continued her journey, only making it to the stairwell at the end of the hall before backtracking and removing her phone from her purse once more.

“Me again…” She murmured, surprising herself by sounding almost cheerful. There was a long pause before her voice finally broke, just a wibble, but she knew he would notice nonetheless. “Do you think perhaps you could end the trip a little early?” She asked, the phone clutched tightly to her ear. “Something came up…” Apprehensively, she gave the address of the hospital, letting him know the department, before hanging up. He’d probably have to Naver it, but she doubted he would put two and two together until he got here. She remembered him telling her once that Yoongi was reading a book about a male gynaecologist from the UK and she had pulled a face. Yoongi didn’t strike her as someone who was all that interested in the inner workings of the female anatomy, though Jungkook had shook his head. “It’s funny…” He had explained with a serious expression. “At least, some of it is.” It occurred to her later that he might be reading it for Jeong-sun, who was now almost qualified. She didn’t know whether the younger woman was interested in obstetrics, but she guessed it was pretty nice of him to take an interest. They had made a series based on the book; she had found it on Netflix one night, though didn’t much fancy the subtitles. Still, it seemed ironic that Yoongi should know more about her own body than her.

Could she even pinpoint when it had happened? The midwife she had seen after the GP had given her a ballpark date, but even then she could do no more than speculate. Things had been quite frantic recently, their lovemaking alternating quite seamlessly with pure, delicious fucking. She had lost track of the number of orgasms he had given her, and she him. Sometimes coming in twos or threes in one night. And she knew why…they had been unable to avoid the matter now he was slowing down the promotion of his second album, which had been number one for four weeks. He was holding off for her sake, as well as his own, but the inevitable could only wait so long and she accepted this calmly, just as much as she accepted his reluctant anticipation over the matter. It might do him some good, being around other people his age. People who hadn’t had the level of fame or success as he had. It might teach him something, about the world as well as himself. Now, wasn’t this new development just ironic? Just as he was making plans, wrapping things up neatly, almost with a red, oversized ribbon, she had thrown a spoke in the wheel, as the saying went. Two spokes.

She checked her phone again, wondering if she had any messages, perhaps a missed call, before releasing there was no signal in this part of the hospital. Probably something to do with the MRI machines. Or maybe it was a different type of machine they interfered with. Either way, if she wanted to phone him back, she would have to make her way back to the cell phone zone and a quick check at her mobile clock told her another ten minutes had passed. Her appointment was now well overdue. The woman opposite, growing restless herself, gave another cursing glance and Young-soon silently slipped the phone back in her purse. Perhaps her appointment was just as urgent as her own. Prolapses were no laughing matter.

It suddenly occurred to her, as her cell phone disappeared back in the pocket of her Birkin, that she hadn’t yet considered how Jungkook might react to the news. At least not fully. Surely that should have been one of her first thoughts, before even, the urge to phone her mother had overcome her. Sweet, reliable Jungkook, who had held equal blame as her faulty IUD in the filling of her womb. Did he have twins in the family? She had never thought to ask him. Her mother’s great-aunt had been a twin, though back then photographs had mostly been in sepia and the separation between the two seemed so large as for it to have never crossed her mind. Not thinking ahead, or at all, seemed to be a talent these days. She was rambling again…

No, she realised. The reason she hadn’t worried over Jungkook’s reaction was because she already knew. It didn’t matter if it had happened now, or five years from now, or five years before. He would be euphoric. She thought any feelings of fear or doubt or incompetence would be crushed like an old can in a pressing machine. They might come back later, once the reality of the situation set in, but she didn’t think so. No, it suddenly seemed to her that Jungkook might have set her up, subconsciously or otherwise, as the future mother of his children from the moment he set eyes on her, behind the reception desk of the shiny, glass PR building in Seoul. Was it vain to think so? Perhaps. But it felt right regardless. If he had knocked her up on their first date, which had included a happy ending for them both, he might have had a harder time pushing back the initial terror of potential fatherhood, but in the end, she thought, he would have done right by her.

Snapping her out of her thoughts, a young, pretty nurse opened the door to the edge of the room, looking at both women, before fixing her gaze on Young-soon.

“The doctor is almost ready.” She smiled, sanitising her hands without thinking with the little automated pump by the doorway. “Just give him a few minutes to finish up.”

“Thank you.” Young-soon replied, collecting her purse from the floor and placing it on the lap, where it concealed the tiny, almost nondescript bump beneath her sweater. It could have been the result of the diary-free Kongguksu she had last night. Her appetite had returned with a vengeance by the early evening and she had helped herself to two large servings. Noodles always bloated her, but she knew better.

The nurse retreated politely, and Young-soon was unable to miss the stabbing look of the patient opposite who had been seated when she arrived. Feeling a little guilty, Young-soon stood up and walked to the other edge of the waiting room, pretending to be interested in the poster on chickenpox; another thing she now had to fear, along with caffeine and soft cheeses. Why was it that everything suddenly wanted to kill her?

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall made her turn around and this time she fully ignored the loud tutting of the other woman, not caring less if the older woman’s vagina was falling out all over the hard, industrial plastic of the shitty waiting room chairs. Jungkook’s hair fell effortlessly across his forehead in one smooth swoop, a little curly in the front, though he was perspiring a little from the race through the hospital. Other than that, she thought he looked valiant, both older and younger than his twenty-eight years. His eyes were large, both confusion and worry etched in the pupils, and she went to him immediately, touching his bare forearms with her palms, almost caressing the ink which danced there, just beneath the surface of his skin. The tutting grew louder, though he too ignored it. Perhaps it was the visible tattoos that had set her off.

“Are you okay?” He asked at once, barely taking a moment to catch his breath. “I came as soon as I got your message.” Jungkook broke her gaze for a moment to look around the walls, as though taking in the landscape of this strange, clinical setting. His eyes fell on the poster next to the one where she stood and she followed his gaze, almost flinching when she read the bold headline warning of the dangers of undiagnosed Hepatitis. “Are you sick?”

She thought for a moment, hands moving along his wrists, finding his palms. They were a little sweaty and it wasn’t until they closed around hers tightly she fully comprehended just how scared he was. His pulse thudded wildly beneath his fingertips, blood pressure through the roof. Maybe it was him who needed the doctor, not her. Perhaps they could give him something to calm him down once the appointment was over; a Xanax to take the edge off. Young-soon realised she hadn’t yet spoken, her growing silence only exasperating his nerves, though she immediately realised why. Having him here, being with him had finally stilled the mixed-up jumble in her brain. She wouldn’t feel the babies kick for another month or two, but her stomach churned pleasantly nonetheless with something that felt different than nerves. Suddenly, she felt as though everything were still, both inside and out. If she had observed any doubts, even for the slightest second, over what she should do, they were gone now. Even the droning, slightly sarcastic inner monologue of her thoughts was silenced as she looked at him. Miraculously, she found herself shaking her head, almost calmly, as she squeezed his palms back gently.

“No…” She said, unsure exactly, but thinking she might actually be smiling. “I’m not sick. Everything’s going to be okay…”

As Jungkook’s expression slowly eased, her stomach fluttered a little as the words left her, knowing instantly that they were true. In explanation, her hands, still tightly wrapped around his own, lead towards her stomach. His fingertips splayed across her too-small jumper with only the slightest tremor of hesitation, before moving down to caress the small bump there; his frown dissipating as realisation took hold.

“Really?” He asked, eyes wide.

Pressing his hand closer, she nodded, closing her eyes for a moment and letting go of the breath which filled her lungs.

“Really.” She confirmed, unable to hold back her grin as his expression changed, matching her own.

***

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bloody-bee-tea · 2 months

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IntiMarch 2024 Day 13 - I'll take you all

The prompt for this was "I really like you"

Suguru bites back a groan when Professor Yaga announces that the next project will be done in pairs of two. It’s the worst possible thing for Suguru, because he prefers to work alone and it’s not as if he made any friends this year who he could ask to team up with.

That means he’s going to be paired with a complete stranger and that’s going to suck big time, Suguru already knows it.

It sucked last year, too, after all.

The people he was paired up with made rude comments about his painted nails and his long hair and they were downright hostile when he told them that he is only available at certain times, and no, he cannot budge on those.

Suguru didn’t even bother to explain because someone who has such baseless prejudices against him simply from his looks would probably not take too kindly to learning that Suguru has two daughters at home.

He heard how some of these students talk about girls who fall pregnant at nineteen or even twenty. He doesn’t need to hear what they would say should they learn that he became a father at fifteen.

“Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru,” Professor Yaga calls out in that moment and Suguru fights the urge to slam his head against the table.

He couldn’t have been paired with a worse person.

Everyone at campus knows Gojo Satoru; he’s notorious for being late, being a player, being an asshole and rude and a general pain in the ass, being so unbelievable rich that his parents didn’t have time to raise him right.

In his two years at this university Suguru has managed to evade Satoru as best as he can and in all honesty he didn’t even know that he was sharing a class with him.

He’s certainly not present a lot.

“Geto, a word please?” Professor Yaga says when he ends the lecture and Suguru quickly packs his stuff away before he walks up to him.

“Yes?”

“I informed Gojo about this per Mail last night already, hoping he’d show up. Seeing as this is not the case, I just wanted to let you know that in your special case you’ll be graded individually, should you wish so. Just let me know. I know working with Gojo is—not ideal,” Professor Yaga says with a wince and Suguru almost laughs at his constipated look, “but someone has to and at least with you I know you’re diligent enough to cover your own part well. I wouldn’t worry about it impacting your grades.”

“Only my nerves,” Suguru mutters under his breath though when Professor Yaga almost chokes on his breath he knows he wasn’t quiet enough. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Professor Yaga waves him off. “Just don’t let him drive you crazy, Gojo has a penchant for doing that to people.”

“I would say I’ve had decent training at home,” Suguru drily gives back, because of course his professors know about his situation, in case he has to call in sick on behalf of the girls.

“You might be right with that. Maybe you’re uniquely equipped to deal with him, it would certainly be a first,” Professor Yaga sighs out. “And if not, you just tell me. Have a good day, Geto.”

“Thank you, Professor Yaga,” Suguru says again and then shoulders his bag.

It’s good to know that no matter how much Satoru fucks up, it won’t impact Suguru’s grades but he’s seriously not looking forward to wrangling him. The damage to his mind could be irreparable after all.

Suguru has just stepped outside the lecture hall when he’s accosted by a tall, gangly boy with a shock of white hair.

“You Suguru?” the guy asks and Suguru musters him from head to toe.

“You couldn’t even bother to show up to class? Not once? Not even for today?” he then asks, because of course he knows that this is Satoru.

He had to know, in order to stay out of his way.

“What for? It’s all boring shit anyway,” Satoru carelessly gives back and pulls out his phone. “I need your number.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow at him and waits him out.

“Ehm, hello? I said I need your number,” Satoru repeats but Suguru isn’t bothered.

“That’s good for you,” he says and then falls silent again.

“Seriously? Are you stupid or something?” Satoru mutters after a moment.

“Are you without manners, perhaps?” Suguru shoots right back, because he’s not going to let this guy trample all over him.

Suguru can say no to his daughters and Satoru has nothing on them.

Satoru opens and closes his mouth several times before he huffs out a breath.

“Would you please give me your number? So we can coordinate for meet-ups.”

“There you go,” Suguru says with a smile and gets his own phone. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

“That wasn’t so hard now,” Satoru mocks him, even as he dutifully puts in the numbers Suguru recites to him. “You’re a real prick, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one, apparently,” Suguru evenly says and saves Satoru’s number when he shoots him a text. “Do you want to schedule a time right now?”

“You think I plan ahead?” Satoru flippantly says and turns around, walking away from Suguru with a little wave of his hand. “I’ll text you when I’m free.”

“Oh, no, you won’t,” Suguru mutters under his breath and immediately sends Satoru a text message, outlining the dates and times he’s available.

It’s probably for naught, but at least he can say he tried.

~*~*~

Throughout the week Satoru messages him with sporadic ‘I am free now’s to which Suguru only ever copy pastes his very first message. They still have time for the project so Suguru isn’t worried about anything yet, especially not with Professor Yaga’s reassurance.

It’ll work out with Satoru or it won’t, Suguru really couldn’t care less.

To his surprise Satoru suggests one of the times Suguru is actually available during the second week. He caved surprisingly quickly, Suguru thinks, though he doesn’t yet dare to trust it.

And clearly rightfully so, Suguru thinks, his annoyance rising, when the set time arrives and then passes, with no Satoru in sight.

At the fifteen minute mark Suguru decides to get started without him, because he’s already at the coffee shop anyway and so he might as well get some work done. He reads the first chapter of the book they are supposed to cover, taking meticulous notes on it and he’s so engrossed in his work that he startles badly when someone slides into the booth opposite of his.

“What a good little student you are,” Satoru says, deliberately mocking and Suguru closes the book.

“Not everyone has a family that pays for our grades, sorry to disappoint,” he gives back, not letting his anger show and he feels a stab of satisfaction when Satoru’s eyes widen in surprise.

It seems not enough people talk back to him. Well, Suguru will gladly change that, because he’s not about to simply take this guy’s bullshit.

He checks his watch, exaggerating the movement greatly and then gives Satoru a disappointed look.

“You’re almost an hour late.”

“Count yourself lucky I showed up at all,” Satoru grumbles out and promptly leaves Satoru to get himself something to drink.

Well. Suguru has half an hour before he has to leave and pick up the girls; he might as well check out if Satoru is an airhead or not.

Once Satoru is back with his coffee—it looks more like a concoction but Satoru seems happy enough with it—Suguru immediately launches into his notes.

To his surprise Satoru can keep up with his train of thought easily, and either he did the assigned reading or he read this book before, because he seems familiar with the topic. He has a lot of valid thoughts, even though he presents them in a manner that makes Suguru want to strangle him but by the end of the half hour, Suguru is almost sad he has to leave.

Satoru could be really nice to work with, if only his attitude was better.

“What are you doing?” Satoru asks with a frown when Suguru starts to pack his things. “We’re not done.”

“No, we’re not,” Suguru easily gives back. “But unlike you, I have responsibilities.”

“So? Whatever it is, cancel them or reschedule or whatever. I was just getting entertained.”

“Good for you, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. I don’t have time to sit around for an hour, waiting to see if you deign to grace me with your presence; I have actual things to do and if you can’t keep to a scheduled time, then that’s on you. Have a nice afternoon.”

He doesn’t give Satoru the chance to say anything to that because he simply walks out on him.

Satoru doesn’t text him for an entire week.

~*~*~

They are supposed to meet again; same coffee shop, same time. Suguru knows better now and brings some assigned reading for another lecture with him, because he’s not going to waste another hour here.

He’s barely finished three paragraphs when Satoru sits down at the table.

“This is—surprising,” Suguru admits and closes his book. “I wasn’t expecting you yet.”

“Yeah, well,” Satoru says but he doesn’t meet Suguru’s eyes. “I like to keep you guessing.”

“Clearly,” Suguru agrees, still completely caught off guard when Satoru leaves to get his drink.

He managed to get himself back under control by the time Satoru is back, though.

“Alright, lets get started then,” Suguru decides and just like that, they are off.

Suguru hates to admit it, but their discussion is just as good as it was the other week and by the time the third week of their meeting rolls around he has to admit that he’s looking forward to it.

Especially because Satoru continues to show up on time, and their banter loses some of the bite and goes more into teasing territory the more time they spend together.

It’s good.

“Hey listen,” Satoru says one day, well into their semester, sliding Suguru his coffee across the table.

Suguru receives it with a questioning look but Satoru only shrugs.

“I’m listening,” Suguru finally says, noticing how Satoru nervously taps a finger against the table.

“I wanted to apologise.”

That makes Suguru close his book. He even puts his pen down.

“For what?” he warily asks, wondering what new shenanigans Satoru has been up to.

Suguru learned a while back that he’s very mischievous, but that he has trouble recognising some lines. He’s mostly not crossing them out of spite or to be deliberately cruel but because he doesn’t even know he went too far.

They’ve been working on it, in their growing friendship, but if Satoru starts like this it makes Suguru worry.

“For how I treated you at first. Being so late that first time, too,” Satoru says and Suguru blinks at him. “It was a real douche-y thing to do.”

“It was,” Suguru admits because sitting around for an hour, knowing you’d been stood up—even if it was only for class work—had sucked.

“I know. I just—sorry.”

“What brought this on?” Suguru wants to know. “I mean, I forgive you, especially since you’ve been on time since then, but. Why even do it in the first place?”

“Honestly?” Satoru shrugs. “Because I can. And no one ever walked out on me like that. People usually bend to my will, no matter how late I am or what I say or do.”

Suguru hums because he suspected something like that. Everything he heard about Satoru told him that while people liked to complain about him and his behaviour, they still always did what he wanted them to do.

Stupid suckers, the lot of them.

“Well, you can count on me to always walk out on you if you’re being stupid,” Suguru reassures him, nudging Satoru’s foot with his, to take the bite out of his words.

“Thanks for that, I guess,” Satoru says with a roll of his eyes and just like that, they are back to normal.

Suguru doesn’t think more about it until they part ways to leave but then it suddenly hits him.

They are friends now.

~*~*~

Suguru can’t bring himself to tell Satoru about Nanako and Mimiko.

They’ve started to talk more, even outside of their weekly meetings and Suguru knows that having kids is most likely something you’re supposed to tell your friends but he can’t get the words out.

Satoru has never judged him for his painted nails or his too long hair, but having kids is different. That might turn Satoru away from him and Suguru finds that he doesn’t want that.

He can’t imagine not being able to talk to Satoru on a daily basis and so he doesn’t want to do anything that could jeopardise that. Especially not when he starts to notice the butterflies in his belly when Satoru laughs, or smirks, or generally exists.

It’s stupid and irrational, Suguru knows that, because if Satoru turns away from him for having daughters, then they shouldn’t have been friends in the first place anyway and yet—the words simply won’t come.

Until it’s all taken out of his hands.

They barely sat down with their coffees when Suguru’s phone rings.

It immediately puts a frown on Satoru’s face and a fluttering panic in Suguru’s stomach because he has his phone on silent, except for this one contact.

His daughter’s daycare can always reach him.

“Geto speaking,” he says as he picks up and the worry only grows.

“Hello. I’m sorry to call you like this but Nanako is sick. She has a fever and she won’t stop crying. We think it’s best if you pick your daughters up early today, Mimiko is understandably distressed as well.”

“I see. Of course, I’ll be over in a moment.”

“Please don’t rush. It’s nothing serious. I just think they’d feel better if they had their dad.”

“Right. I’m on my way,” Suguru gives back and even though she made sure to reassure him that it’s not serious or life-threatening by any means, Suguru feels panic crawl up his throat.

He’s so far away from the daycare. It will take him too long to get there and to think that Nanako has to wait for him to arrive, crying all the time—

“You okay? You turned kind of white,” Satoru interrupts his thoughts and Suguru jerks.

“I have to leave,” he says, hastily stuffing his things into his bag.

“Suguru,” Satoru says, reaching across the table to grab his arm, stilling Suguru’s movement. “What’s going on?”

“I—I have to pick up my daughters,” Suguru says, not allowing himself to think about this any more than that. He has to get them. It doesn’t matter what Satoru thinks.

“Okay. Do you need a ride there? Can I help otherwise?” Satoru asks, staying completely calm and Suguru lets out a harsh breath.

“You have a car?”

“I do. I don’t have seats for them, though,” he says as if that’s a failing on his part and Suguru shakes his head.

“It’s not far from the daycare to my apartment. If I sit with them in the back it should be fine.”

This once. Just this once, it can be fine if they ride in a car without their seats. It has to be.

“Alright. Let’s get going then,” Satoru says, packing everything up faster than even Suguru did and before he knows it they are already at the daycare.

Satoru waits in the car and Suguru is glad for the space he gives him to pick up his daughters. Nanako is still crying when Suguru gets to her and Mimiko looks about ready to burst into tears, too, and he doesn’t hesitate to sweep them up in his arms.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, I’m here,” he whispers, both of them clinging to him, and of course that sets off Mimiko. “Ready to go home, girls?” he asks, even though they are in no state to answer him and Suguru whisks them away just like that.

Satoru is already waiting for him, opening the door when he sees them coming and Suguru gives him a grateful smile over Nanako’s head.

“They sure had a hard time without their dad, huh?” Satoru asks, sticking his head into the car to check if Suguru gets them situated without problems and then he’s behind the wheel again.

“Home?”

“Please,” Suguru whispers, and as soon as Satoru has the address, they are off again.

“Can you handle it from here?” Satoru asks once he parked in front of Suguru’s building and Suguru hesitates before he nods.

“Listen, I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?” he asks, because he feels as if he has to clear this up, at least try to explain all of this to Satoru.

“Sure, but no rush. Your daughters first, alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Suguru mutters as he climbs out of the car.

It takes him a while to get Nanako and Mimiko back in his arms, especially since Nanako is now fast asleep and Mimiko not far behind, but in the end he even manages a small wave at Satoru, who drives away with a smile.

In his apartment, Suguru puts his daughters to bed immediately. It’s clear they tired themselves out and Nanako is still burning up with her fever. He’ll probably have to go out later to get some medicine for her, Suguru thinks, even as he gets his phone out.

He’s still on his daughter’s bed when he calls Satoru, but he can’t quite bring himself to leave them, not when he can still spot tear tracks on their faces.

“That was fast,” Satoru says when he picks up and Suguru sighs.

“They were already asleep. I just put them to bed, everything else will follow later.”

He’ll need to see if he has everything he needs for a good chicken soup at home. He hopes so, because he doesn’t feel like going grocery shopping.

“They’ll be fine, Suguru, with your care they’ll be as good as new in no time. The people at the daycare said it’s just a fever, right?”

“It’ll be a cold soon enough and then they’ll sniffle all around the house,” Suguru drily says, because he has been through this often enough by now.

Still, that initial phone call from the daycare never fails to make him panic.

“Sorry for panicking.”

“That’s alright,” Satoru easily gives back. “Understandable, even.”

There’s a brief silence before Suguru finds his voice again.

“Listen, I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Satoru wants to know and Suguru huffs out a bitter laugh.

“For not telling you. That I have two daughters.”

Satoru stays silent for so long that Suguru’s stomach drops.

“That’s alright,” he finally says and he even sounds as if he means it. “It can’t be easy, right? How old are they?”

“Six. They’ll start school soon.”

“I see. And—their mother?”

“Not in the picture,” Suguru gives back and he doesn’t even sound bitter about it.

He accepted her absence long ago, even though it hasn’t been easy.

“Why—why didn’t you tell me?” Satoru eventually asks and Suguru wonders if his explanation will be good enough for Satoru.

“People are—judgemental,” Suguru says. “I’ve been mocked a whole lot for them and many people have turned away from me when they learned that I became a father so young. It’s not—I didn’t want that.”

With you, he doesn’t say, even though he’s certain Satoru still knows.

“I don’t care, Suguru,” Satoru says, almost sounding angry. “Why would I care that you’re a loving father to your kids? What the hell.” He huffs out a breath. “I just want to help. I just want to be there.”

There are so many questions Suguru has—Now? In the future? What the hell does Satoru want?—but he can’t voice them all. He doesn’t know how to and this entire phone call makes him feel as if he’s slowly burning up.

Maybe he already contracted whatever Nanako has.

“I—I need a moment, don’t call back,” he rushes out and promptly hangs up on Satoru because what the hell.

That almost sounded as if Satoru not only doesn’t mind but maybe wants to be involved as well? With Suguru and his daughters? Surely that can’t be, right?

Suguru’s thoughts are still a complete mess when Mimiko blinks up at him.

“Was that your friend?” she asks and Suguru can’t help it, he simply has to laugh.

He no longer has any idea what Satoru is to him.

“I don’t know, baby,” he finally manages and pushes her sweaty hair out of her face. She has a fever, too. “Go back to sleep, alright?”

She doesn’t have to be told twice, because she immediately snuggles up to Nanako and promptly falls back asleep.

Which is good, because it will help her get better soon but it also leaves Suguru alone with his thoughts.

Satoru didn’t seem mad. He said he wants to be there—to help and maybe more? Suguru doesn’t know, but he’s probably not going to figure this out on his own, so he calls Satoru back.

“Everything okay?” Satoru asks as soon as he picks up and Suguru lets out a long breath.

“Satoru, are you my friend?” he asks and he hates to admit it, but he holds his breath for Satoru’s answer.

But Satoru stays quiet.

“Ah, I see,” Suguru mutters, and his heart aches. Of course Satoru isn’t, not really. No matter what he just said, he clearly does care that Suguru has two daughters.

Or maybe things went wrong even earlier. Who knows.

“I kinda want to fuck you stupid,” Satoru suddenly blurts out. “Or be fucked stupid, I don’t care. And I’m also kinda already imagining domestic scenes with you and the girls, so—being friends seems kind of lacking to me.”

Suguru’s ears are ringing.

“What?” he breathes out because surely Satoru didn’t just say any of that, but Satoru’s nervous laugh at the other end of the line tells Suguru that he really did.

“Listen, I’m kind of right outside? There’s this small shop around the corner, the auntie there makes the best chicken soup—and I brought some real food for you, too—and I have some books here, for the girls? I thought we could—I mean you could read to them, they’ll probably be bored out of their minds soon enough and I also brought medicine? It’s not as if I know what they need, but I described it to the apothecary and they recommended stuff? So, ehm, yeah,” he trails off.

Suguru is still processing everything he just said when Satoru speaks up again.

“You can tell me to fuck off, too, I mean I can leave these things right here as well, whatever works best for you, really.”

He ends with another nervous laugh and Suguru gets up before he can think too hard about it. He really has to see Satoru right now.

Satoru is pacing in front of his door, phone still pressed to his ear when Suguru yanks it open. He blinks at him with his beautiful eyes and Suguru wants to kiss him stupid.

“You want to have nasty sex?” he asks and Satoru goes bright red.

“Possibly?”

“And you want to be grossly domestic with me and my daughters.”

Now Satoru seems to find his footing again because he squares up and nods, much more certain now.

“Most definitely.” He hesitates for a moment. “I really like you, Suguru.”

“I am a single-father to two not that well-adjusted six-year-old daughters,” Suguru says because he fears that some of that might have flown over Satoru’s head.

“Yes.”

“And you don’t mind.”

“I really do not mind at all,” Satoru promises him and Suguru can detect no lie.

“I really like you, too,” he finally says and doesn’t laugh when Satoru slumps in relief.

“Thank fuck,” he mutters out and then holds out a bag with all the promised things. “I can still go, if it’s all too much today, I just—I’m really happy.”

“Me, too,” Suguru admits and instead of taking the bag, he takes Satoru’s hand. “Eating alone is boring and the girls are asleep, so come here.”

Satoru almost stumbles over his feet, he’s so quick to get close to Suguru and Suguru can’t even tease him for it, because he helps Satoru along by pulling him after all.

“Thank you,” Suguru mumbles, his lips brushing Satoru’s and he’s not going to tease Satoru for the little sound he makes, because Suguru’s knees are about to buckle with nerves and happiness and everything else.

“Always,” Satoru promises him and closes the distance between them, bringing their lips together more firmly.

Suguru is careful not to let the bag drop to the floor, but that is about the only thought in his mind for a very long while. By the time they remember the food, it’s long gone cold and the girls are awake again.

Satoru makes good on his promise and reads to them while Suguru prepares dinner and it’s already so grossly domestic to Suguru that he can barely stand it.

He hopes there will be many days like this in the future.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #father geto suguru #getting together #fluff #hurt/comfort #first kiss

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