Chapter Text
Utahime didn’t know where the night had started to go wrong, but it had to be the idiot’s fault.
It had started as a simple night out to get drinks, Utahime taking her cousins who were visiting from her hometown out into Kyoto. Mei Mei had been available, so she’d invited her, thinking the girls would find Mei Mei’s stories interesting.
And then, somehow, Gojo Satoru had invited himself along as well, claiming he was already in town dealing with the higher-ups. He’d behaved himself beautifully so far, polite and nice to both of her young cousins; not mocking her as he usually did. Yet still Utahime found herself feeling strangely out of sorts, ruffled by his presence.
“—what do you think, Uta?”
She looked up, shaking her slightly fuzzy head clear and staring at them. “What?”
The elder cousin, Eri, only a few years younger than Utahime, giggled. “Get your head out of the clouds, Utahime! Gojo is asking all of us our favorite colors.”
Utahime was lost. “Color? Like overall? Why—“
“Eye color,” Narumi clarified. “Mine’s green.”
Utahime nearly answered quickly, too flustered by missing the conversation and trying to catch up. She snapped her teeth shut just in time to keep the word from escaping, taking a sip of her drink to cover it up. The beer sloshed in her stomach uncomfortably.
“Brown,” she said firmly.
“Funny.”
Her eyes snapped to Gojo, who was playing with the straw of some fruity drink. “What’s funny?” she demanded.
His smile was slow to form, unlike his usual quick grins. “That’s my favorite too.”
Mei Mei laughed, leaning over and stealing a sip of Utahime’s beer, shaking her head. “Uta, darling, your taste is horrendous.”
Her cousins giggled, probably amused by the sight of proper little Utahime, who always was demure and respectable at home, out drinking, teased by her colleagues.
“Well, it’s affordable and I like it,” she said grumpily, stealing her drink back and taking another sip.
“Gojo, what are you drinking?” Narumi asked.
“I don’t like alcohol, so it’s just syrup, pretty much.” His head tilted in Utahime’s direction, smile going a little sly. “Want a sip, senpai?”
“I’ll try it,” Eri said.
Utahime felt the weight of Six Eyes slide off of her—focusing on Eri. She watched, feeling somewhat disconnected as Eri leaned in, placing her lips where Gojo’s had just been on the straw. She was saying something to Gojo, her hand hovering over his forearm. Something about his technique, about. Touching, something . . .
Flirting.
Utahime felt her cheeks flush at the realization, not sure why it made her whole body flash hot and then cold. Maybe she’d had too much to drink.
Gojo was laughing at Eri’s comments, putting his hand above hers, a thin gap of his technique keeping them separated. Utahime watched, feeling like she might throw up, waiting for Gojo to drop his barrier and touch her.
“Uta?”
She blinked, finding Narumi watching her. The younger girl was such a sweet thing, dressed in the same miko outfit that Utahime still clung to, pretending she was still a part of that life with her family. Eri used to be dressed the same. Only Eri didn’t have a horrific scar across her face. Utahime glanced once more at her. She looked stunning in the low light of the bar, make-up precise and skin flushed. She was wearing casual, modern clothes. Next to Gojo, who wasn’t wearing his uniform for once, they looked almost like . . .
Utahime stood abruptly. “Sorry, I’m not feeling well,” she said. “Eri, Narumi, are you both okay to make it back to your hotel?”
Eri’s eyes darted to Gojo before she looked up at Utahime. “We’ll be fine, Uta, feel better!”
Narumi echoed the sentiment. Utahime didn’t dare look at Gojo or Mei Mei, waving a vague goodbye and turning away, nearly forgetting her purse in her haste.
The night had gotten colder as they’d been out. Utahime hugged her arms around herself as she walked, feeling all too sober. She should’ve stayed a little longer, had at least one more drink. Then maybe the night would have been a bit more blurred and she wouldn’t’ve felt—
Utahime slammed into someone, falling backwards, barely catching herself.
“Gojo!”
It was his favorite new trick, ever since he’d started teleporting everywhere. He’d only pulled it off on her a couple times, since now that she was centered in Kyoto, she saw him rarely. She couldn’t imagine how much of a menace he would’ve been if he’d known how to do it while they’d been at school together.
“You should watch where you’re going, Utahime,” he teased.
“You shouldn’t do that!” She straightened herself up, shivering again as the wind bit into her clothes. “What do you want?”
“So rude, senpai.” He pouted, the effect lost with his eyes covered up. Utahime rolled her own eyes.
“You were being weirdly polite tonight,” she said, frowning at him. “What do you want?”
“I can’t win,” he sighed. “You reprimand me for being rude, and now you reprimand me for being polite.”
“I wasn’t . . . ugh! Stop playing around, Gojo!”
He didn’t respond, suddenly unmoving before her. Utahime clenched her fists, caught off guard with the change in his demeanor.
“What were you going to say?”
She blinked. “Huh? What? Just now, I said—“
“No. At the bar. Your favorite eye color.”
Utahime cleared her throat. “I told you, it’s brown.”
“Liar.”
She cried out in indignation at the accusation, and then inhaled as his hand wrapped around her forearm—no barrier between them.
Gojo hummed, stepping in closer to her. Utahime tried to take a step back, but for each she took, he followed, until he had her backed into the wall of a building.
“You told me to stop playing around. I think you should do the same.”
“What are you talking abou—“
“Utahime.” He drew her name out between his lips like a song. “What would you have done if I had taken your sweet little cousin home with me tonight?”
The words caught Utahime like a slap across the face. She jerked away, taking two steps to the side and freeing herself. It took her a moment to find her breath. “I—you are two adults, it is none of my business,” she said.
“Liar,” he hissed again. Utahime flinched as he ripped his blindfold off his face, blue eyes slightly glowing in the darkness of the night. “Stop playing around, Utahime.”
“I—“ It had been a while, since she’d seen his eyes uncovered. Utahime tried to pull her gaze away, but she was lost in the bright beauty of them, the weight of Six Eyes holding her captive. “I . . .”
Gojo cursed and then suddenly he was on her, lips against hers, pulling her up against him so that Utahime was barely touching the ground—forced to grab onto his shoulders for stability. There was something painful and clumsy about it, teeth against her lower lip, nose smashing into hers. Utahime responded in turn, biting at his lip, gasping against him. Gojo finally pulled his head back, staring at her, eyes wild.
“Hime,” he said, voice broken. “Please.”
Utahime stared at him, lost. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him say that in the entire time she’d known him.
“Gojo,” she said blankly. “Gojo, I—“
“Don’t—“ he pressed in again, his lips against hers until he once more broke away to breathe. “Don’t say it, Hime.”
Utahime was confused. “Say what?”
Whatever franticness was around Gojo slowed down. Utahime didn’t move against him, feeling his chest rising and falling with the speed of his breathing. “Aren’t you?” he asked.
Utahime’s scowl was the natural response to Gojo’s presence, though it felt different on her face—maybe because of her swollen lips. “Stop being an idiot, Gojo, and tell me what you mean!”
Instead of clarifying, he grinned. The expression was strangely new, with his eyes uncovered and the light in them clear. “You haven’t tried to hit me yet.”
Utahime flushed, realizing that not only had she allowed Gojo to kiss her twice, she’d also enthusiastically responded. She looked to the ground, finding that Gojo had her pressed up against the wall, her toes barely brushing the ground; one of her thighs held in his hand, the other on her hip. She squirmed against him.
“Put me down, you idiot, we’re in public!”
He laughed, head thrown back to expose his throat. Utahime stared at him, wondering where on earth her desire to bite his throat had come from. He smiled down at her again.
“There she is,” he said, voice warm with fondness. He let her slide to the ground, the back of her outfit mussed and ridden up and her hair wild where it had caught against the wooden wall. Utahime dropped her hands from his shoulders and quickly worked on straightening herself out, keeping her eyes dipped away from the temptation of looking at his.
What was she supposed to say, after giving herself away so thoroughly?
“I—I should get home. I have classes to teach tomorrow.”
She didn’t move away from Gojo’s hand as it slowly approached, sliding under the collar of her kosode, curling around the back of her neck. She shuddered.
“Hime.”
For the third time that night, she kissed Gojo. This one felt different, though. Sweet and slow, him dipping down to meet her, her pressing up on her toes and threading her fingers through his hair. When they stopped, this time she kept herself hidden up against him, her face in his chest.
“You’re not just . . . this isn’t just a joke to you, is it?”
She desperately wanted him to lie. All he needed to do was nicely tell her no, it wasn’t a joke. As long as he gave her a couple days to conquer her feelings after this, she wouldn’t be so broken once he rejected her.
“Will you date me, Iori Utahime?”
Utahime blinked, pulling away to look up at him. It was so formal, she almost doubted it was Gojo saying it.
“I . . . uh . . . what?”
His eyes twinkled, a return to his earlier mirth. “Sorry, do you need me down on one knee to ask you?”
Her face felt hot enough to fry an egg. “Enough! Yes, Gojo, I will date you!”