Chapter Text
Fushiguro is contemplating the very meaning of life.
He’s doing this flavour of contemplation, which is not new to his collection of contemplation subjects, at the godforsaken hour of 6:45 in the morning, which is early even by his standards. 6:45 am is usually reserved for the contemplation of why bagels taste so good even though they’re boiled, or why Chinese leftovers are better than the fresh stuff, or the occasional thought of quitting coffee, or as Kugisaki calls it, his jet fuel.
The meaning of life has been reduced to nothing right now because Fushiguro is hungover. On a Tuesday. And he has a 12-hour shift at the vet clinic.
Kugisaki is possibly the worst thing to ever happen to him.
Because the universe is always conspiring against him, the stars align perfectly, and the calendars sync up just to ensure that Kugisaki’s birthday falls on a Monday. Now, usually, when his birthday falls on a weekday, Fushiguro doesn’t give a fuck. He doesn’t give a fuck no matter what day his birthday is, but Kugisaki and Maki always make a thing out of it. They order way too many ginger-based foods and buy some expensive Belgian beer and make him a quiche to cut because he doesn’t like sweets or cakes and gift him tons of new non-fiction books and curl into him on the couch as they marathon terrible movies, his dogs curled up on the couch with them.
Kugisaki is possibly also the best thing to ever happen to him.
But after his 8th shot of Jose Cuervo, the only thing Fushiguro remembers is the brilliant conclusion he had come to last night, which was to drink more.
So, the logical side of his brain knows that he’s the reason his life has lost all meaning right now, but it’s 6:48 in the morning, he’s petty, and Kugisaki can suck it.
Fushiguro shuts the door to his locker, counts backwards from ten, straightens his stethoscope and feels his nausea get nausea. He pulls his phone out.
[To: Kugisaki]
I think I’m dying.
[From: Kugisaki]
we all are, get over yourself
come over after work. maki’s making ginger pork
[To: Kugisaki]
You suck.
I’ll be there at 8:30.
---
The morning brings in 3 cute dogs, 5 adorable cats, and one charismatic chameleon that wouldn’t stop holding Fushiguro’s finger like a new-born baby. The owner's nice too, all gentle smiles and flustered questions. Fushiguro isn’t a smiley person, but his face kinda betrays him when it comes to the animals. He likes them so much; he just can’t help it.
Lunch is Gatorade and some melon bread, which his stomach begrudgingly accepts. He’s on the floor in the common area, pouring over his latest non-sci-fi book when Inumaki walks in. Fushiguro looks up to give him a nod before returning to his book. He hears the fridge open and close, and then the couch behind him dips as Inumaki falls over with a thump.
It might surprise the people around him, but contrary to popular belief, Inumaki is actually really caring. Here’s what Fushiguro has observed over the last 8 years that he’s known Toge:
- He doesn’t talk unless spoken to or if his job requires it. It’s statistically likely that 99% of the people he encounters on a daily basis have not heard his voice.
- His actions do most of the talking, which is exactly why Fushiguro well and truly loves him from the bottom of his cold, bitter heart.
- When he does speak, Inumaki is either extremely charismatic or an absolute fucking savage. There is no room for anything in between.
All morning, Inumaki has been pressing water bottles into Fushiguro’s hands between appointments, catching his eye and looking for non-verbal confirmation that he’s not on the verge of passing out, and giving his forearm a grounding squeeze after a particularly difficult case. If not for Inumaki- Fushiguro doesn’t even want to think about it. At this point, Inumaki is his everything at work- he’s sure if he squints hard enough, he can see the glow of a halo behind him.
Inumaki places a hand on Fushiguro’s head, the other one shovelling a rice ball into his mouth. He plays with the strands there and Fushiguro hums, leaning into the touch.
When the clock strikes 3, Fushiguro unfolds his legs and stands up, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. He hears the satisfying crack of bones settling back where they belong, shifts his hands down, throws Inumaki a smile over his shoulder and heads for the door.
Still has a few more hours to go, but at least he hasn’t thrown up today.
---
‘Walk-in.’
Fushiguro is so close. He’s so close to the end of his shift. He’s so close to ginger pork and iced tea and soft pyjama pants and the comforting weight of his massive wolf-dog laying on top of him, squeezing the oxygen right out of his lungs. He’s so close, and yet, so very far.
‘What’s the case?’ he grumbles. Inumaki looks down at the clipboard in his hand, going over the information.
‘Dog. Shepherd-mix. Limping. Jumped off a couch.’
Fushiguro perks up at the mention of a dog. If someone is going to prolong his shift, it might as well be a dog. Now, don’t get him wrong- Fushiguro loves all animals. He loves them big and small, furry or scaly, mammals or egg-layers- he doesn’t give a damn. They’re all so wonderful and unique, they can be so interesting, and they’re far easier to hang around than humans. Fushiguro would know- he once chose to birth several calves (which involves sticking your hand up a crevice you do not want your hands anywhere near) just so he could avoid going to a party with Kugisaki.
But at the end of the day, there’s an inherent bias towards dogs. They’re just…. everything. Everything good in this world is present in a dog- love, loyalty, boundless energy, curiosity, and the complete lack of any malicious intent. There are no bad dogs in this world, just bad owners. Fushiguro is going to die on this hill.
Pulling his right hand out of his pocket, Fushiguro takes the clipboard from Inumaki and sighs.
‘Poor thing. I’ll go take a look now. Will Panda still be coming in at 8?’
Inumaki nods. Fushiguro smiles back and makes his way to room 4. At least Inumaki had prepped the patient and settled them in. He really couldn’t love him more if he tried.
Fushiguro opens the door, eyes still on the clipboard. ‘Hi, my name is Dr Fushiguro Megumi, and I will be looking after Yoda-‘
A gruff bark, followed by a whine brings Fushiguro’s eyes straight to the ground, where a gorgeous mixed breed stands, tail wagging inhumanely fast, eyes shining brightly. Fushiguro immediately puts the chart down and sinks to his knees, offering his hand palm up for the dog to sniff. Yoda quickly acquaints himself with Fushiguro’s smell before limping over and licking Fushiguro all over, and Fushiguro doesn’t bother to push down the laughter that bubbles in his throat. Yoda really is lovely- soft, thick fur, strong stance, and very healthy.
‘Um.’
Fushiguro’s eyes snap up and he inhales sharply.
Just like the animals that visit him, Fushiguro also encounters people of all types throughout the day. Could be the leader of a biker gang one moment, could be a high schooler the next- he’s met them all. He’d be lying if he said some of the people that walked in hadn’t caught his attention, but it was never enough to make him think about them longer than a half-hour after they were gone. Then they just kinda vanished, though the memory of their lovely pets stayed with him for weeks, sometimes longer.
This particular client is catching Fushiguro’s attention. Very much so. There’s so much of him that deserves attention, and he’s probably the best-looking person Fushiguro has seen in a long time.
‘I like to get to their level when I meet them for the first time,’ Fushiguro says by way of an explanation, ‘so they can get a bit comfortable with me.’
‘Oh!’ the man’s eyes widen with understanding. His face breaks into a grin so wide, Fushiguro has to force himself to look away. He feels like he’s looking at the sun. ‘That makes so much sense! That’s so cool.’
The man sinks down to the floor in front of Fushiguro, and Yoda immediately turns to him, licking his ears and nuzzling into the crook of his neck. For a hot second, Fushiguro feels jealous of the dog and then spends the next 5 seconds holding himself back from banging his head against the nearest surface.
Clearly, the hangover has killed most of his brain cells.
‘I believe his right hind leg is broken,’ Fushiguro says after a quick check-up, ‘but I’d like to make sure. Could you please put him on the table while I ready the machine?’
Fushiguro doesn’t stare at the man’s arms as he lifts an 80-pound dog like he’s picking up a feather, and he definitely doesn’t catch the look of unbridled love in his eyes as he coos sympathetically at the dog in comfort.
‘Man, I can’t believe this happened,’ the man rambles, looking like a sad puppy himself. ‘I looked away for a minute and he just crash-lands into the ground and that howl was so painful to hear. I really hope he’s going to be ok.’
The scans show a clean break, and after casting his leg as gently and efficiently as possible, Fushiguro turns his full attention to the man.
‘Mr.-?’
‘Itadori. Yuuji. No Mr. required, please don’t…’ the man stutters, pink in the face.
‘Alright then, Itadori, he’s going to be fine. You’ll have to administer some meds for the pain regularly and come back for a check-up in two weeks. Do you have another vet you’d rather see instead, like a regular or something, or-‘
‘No, here is fine! Here is good. Here is great. Let’s meet again. Here. For Yoda.’
Fushiguro hides a smile under his hand and continues, ‘Alright then, come back in two weeks and we can take a look.’
Itadori leaves with a huge smile on his face and a ‘Thank you’ thrown over his shoulder as he carries Yoda out in his arms, again acting like it’s absolutely no big deal.
When Inumaki walks into the room, he finds Fushiguro seated at the desk in the corner, looking at nothing. He stands in front of him and waves his hand a few times.
‘Hmm?’ Fushiguro muses. ‘Oh, nothing, I’m fine. Just contemplating how utterly gay I am.’
Inumaki nods as if agreeing wholeheartedly.
---
‘How was work?’ Kugisaki yells from the kitchen. Fushiguro sets his shoes by the door and is greeted by his lovely hounds, Kage and Yuki. He gives them both cuddles and kisses before excusing himself into the house.
‘Work was work. The hangover is still fucking me up though.’
He rounds the corner and sees Maki smirking at him. ‘Tell me about it. I’ve been walking around wearing sunglasses because the light threatens to burn my retinas and miss sunshine here,’ Maki grabs Kugisaki and squeezes her around the middle, ‘spent the day glowing and not looking like she downed 3/4th a bottle of tequila on her own before calling everyone to do Jaeger-bombs-but-the-red-bull-is-actually-raspberry-vodka.’
Kugisaki smiles broadly.
Fushiguro stares at her through narrowed eyes. ‘I hate you.’
She blows him a kiss and he ducks because the principle of the matter is that he can be his most petty and childish around the people he loves.
They’re sitting around eating Maki’s ginger pork, which, if you ask Fushiguro, is the single greatest thing in the world, over electricity and modern technology, when Kugisaki asks, ‘So, when are you going to sit on Itadori’s face?’
Fushiguro scowls at her crassness just as Maki chokes on her iced tea, coughing and laughing till there are tears streaming down her face. She has to pull her glasses off at some point.
‘First of all, what the fuck? And second, it was Inumaki, wasn’t it?’ Kugisaki gives him a shit-eating grin. ‘Traitor,’ Fushiguro mumbles, cheeks burning a little.
‘But I don’t hear a no.’
Fushiguro sighs. ‘I’m not sitting on anyone’s face Kugi.’
‘But why not? You haven’t gotten laid in ages; it’ll be good to let off some steam. I’m sure he’ll be a good lay, turns out he’s a firefighter.’
Fushiguro stills, a spoon of ginger pork halting halfway to his mouth. The word firefighter bounces around his head, images coming unbidden and ridiculously graphic, and from the intensity of Kugisaki’s cackle, Fushiguro can tell he’s roughly the colour of a well-ripened tomato.
‘I hate everyone,’ he mumbles around a spoonful of heaven.
---
Damn Nobara and her stupid comments and fuck face sitting as a concept.
Because Itadori’s back, and he’s brought his stupid muscular arms and his stupid thick thighs and his stupid tattoos and his stupid hair and his positively ridiculous smile with him.
Yoda is a sweetheart though.
‘Hi puppy, you seem to be doing well,’ Fushiguro coos, fawning over the dog. Yoda licks his nose and wags his tail a mile a minute, and for just a heartbeat he forgets all about Itadori.
‘He takes his medicines without much complaint, and I think it’s going ok?’ Itadori sounds so hopeful, and his gaze lingers all over Fushiguro.
Fushiguro checks the cast and takes some blood for further tests but as far as he can tell, he’s in the company of a happy pup that’s well on his way to healing. He spends a few more minutes giving Yoda some much-needed attention for being so good during his tests before turning to Itadori.
‘He’s coming along nicely, but you will have to come back in two weeks to do another check-up. Given his age and how fast it’s healing, I think 6 weeks should be sufficient.’
He hears Itadori breathe out in relief. ‘That’s great. I mean, he’s healing nicely but he’s got so much energy, he’s bouncing through the walls.’
Fushiguro reaches out for a flier on his desk and hands it to Itadori. ‘This brand makes great toys that can tire out your dog quite a bit. I got some for my own pups, and I never take them in a car without these things.’
Itadori eyes the flier in disbelief. ‘Seriously? Thanks doc, you’re a lifesaver!’
Fushiguro waves his hand, ‘Not a problem. And-‘ he bites his lip, ‘just call me Fushiguro.’
Itadori looks at him incredulously for a second before breaking into another one of his too-big smiles that are too bright for a soul as dark as Fushiguro’s. He nearly shields his eyes.
‘Ok Fushiguro. Thanks though, you’re seriously saving my ass with this.’
Fushiguro inhales deeply. Doesn’t think about Itadori’s ass. Exhales. He flashes him a slightly tight smile, gives Yoda a good old belly rub and sends them on their way. If his shoulder brushes Itadori’s and he feels a zing of electricity down his spine, no one has to know.
---
‘Just ask him to coffee,’ Kugisaki says over her laptop.
‘You act as if I have any idea how to ask someone out. Also, what if he’s straight?’
Kugisaki groans. ‘First of all, suck it up dumbass. You’re too old to be shy about asking someone to coffee. If you were asking to blow him, I’d cut you some slack. Second, who says he’s straight? Who says he’s anything? Worst case, you make a friend. A hot, firefighter friend.’
Fushiguro flips her off.
‘Fushi, my dude, my bro, my idiot. I only say this because I am genuinely, truly, and completely afraid of the fact that you will set something on fire just in the hopes of seeing him once his puppy is ok.’
Fushiguro flips her off a second time. She doesn’t need to know that he briefly, extremely briefly, had considered doing just that.
---
‘Do you like coffee?’
Two things.
Asking Fushiguro if he likes coffee is like asking him if he likes air. He doesn’t really have a say in it, he just knows he needs it to be alive.
And second, is Itadori clairvoyant because what the fuck, Kugisaki had made the coffee comment three days ago, how on earth is Itadori bringing this up now?
‘I. Um, yes, I do like coffee. Very much.’
Itadori gulps, ‘Would you like it very much with me?’
‘Maybe more.’
Fushiguro wants to die.
Itadori is smiling and blushing a little and he’s so cute and Fushiguro really wants to die.
‘Could I maybe have your number then? And you could get coffee with me sometime?’
Fushiguro pulls his phone out and hands it to Itadori, who handles it like it’s super delicate and quickly adds his number. He sends himself a text before passing it back to Fushiguro.
‘I’ll text you!’ Itadori and his newly cast-free puppy walk out the door with a suspicious spring in their steps. It’s only then that Fushiguro realizes he’s in the lobby, not a private check-up room.
Inumaki gives him two thumbs up. Fushiguro throws a plastic cup at his head.
---
[From: Itadori]
hey, would you be free this weekend for that coffee? >.<
[To: Itadori]
Yes, Saturday should work for me.
[From: Itadori]
:O
that's perfect. i know this great place that's dog friendly too. would yo umaybe want to bring your pups too?
i mean, unless, you want a break from animals
not that you dont like animals, but it also your job
i just
you know
fuck
[To: Itadori]
Haha, I think bringing the dogs is a lovely idea. Send me the address and I'll meet you there.
[From: Itadori]
cant wait!
also thanks for saving me from myself
[To: Itadori]
Anytime.
---