Chapter Text
There were three overly decorated Christmas trees in the lobby alone, glittery snowflakes hung from the ceiling between them all. A giant chandelier that would normally be the centerpiece of the room cast twinkling lights across the garland and oversized presents stuffed into the corners of the room. Beyond the decorative windows, the warm and cozy atmosphere ended abruptly, and bleak, unrelenting snow raged into the night.
“I can help someone here!”
Chōsō threw himself at the reception desk before anyone else could cut in front of him — again. Everyone was exhausted, hangry, and shivering uncontrollably, so his usual intimidation wasn’t working at all. It was fucking strange, if he were honest, but it also made him uncomfortably aware of how used to being avoided he was. What a time for introspection.
Perhaps it was his own fault for taking such an out of the way layover in hopes of reaching his destination faster. If he’d waited, his plane could have been grounded much closer to Toronto. Maybe then he would have been able to catch a bus or an Uber. But no. Now he was trapped all the way in Alberta along with all the other unlucky shits on his flight, desperately searching for a room.
“I put a hold on your website, but I’ll take any room you have,” Chōsō said, dropping his carry-on beside him. The rest of his luggage was abandoned on his delayed flight back in California waiting to meet him in Toronto. He hoped this hotel had laundry services. Actually, it better have considering how expensive the rooms were, but the cheap hotels were already booked, and he was not sleeping in an airport — again .
The perky woman behind the counter tapped away at her screen. “How many?”
“Just me.” Chōsō shivered and told himself that his artfully ripped hoodie was more than enough for the winds of the Canadian plains. (He was lying to himself.)
“We still have some available — oh.”
“Oh?” Chōsō didn’t like the sound of that “oh”.
She flashed him a smile. “The system is lagging a bit because of all the new online bookings. One moment.”
Shit. Was booking online an option? The airport had made it sound like they could lose the room if they didn’t show up in person. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kamo whipping out his phone. The asshole had complained about literally everything their entire taxi trip from the airport to the hotel while acting like the most put-upon man in the world. If he sniped a room out from under Chōsō, there would be blood.
“Next!” the worker one desk down called, causing Chōsō to stiffen. Thankfully, it was Kamo’s turn to be blocked by the rush of people trying to make it to the open counter.
“I put a hold on a room,” Chōsō insisted. “The airport insisted.”
“Holds are first come, first serve.” The receptionist’s smile was unwavering to the point of being threatening. “We have one room — oh.”
Chōsō felt like screaming. He didn’t need any more “oh”s in his life. “What now?”
Her smile grew wider, if that were possible. “One moment.” She turned to the desk next to her. “Liam, are you in the 738 room?”
The man at the other counter spared her a glance. “I am.”
Visions of tackling Liam and stringing him up from the rafters flashed through Chōsō’s mind. He tried to contain them. He looked at the nametag of the woman in front of him. Using names garnered empathy, usually. “Olivia, is that the last room?”
Her eyes flicked hesitantly to Chōsō. “I can double-check.”
“No!” Chōsō exploded. This was the only hotel still allowing holds on rooms, and by the time he drove to the next one, it would be booked as well. And what if he had to share a taxi with Kamo again? He’d murder someone. He slammed his fist on the counter. “I was here first!”
“There’s no need for violence,” said a new voice.
Chōsō turned to see the person standing in front of Liam, the customer actively stealing his room out from under him. It took everything he had not to sneer. The guy looked like he was halfway between a K-pop star and a kindergarten teacher — pink hair, glowing smile, and an ugly yellow hoodie. He was the type of guy that usually shrank away from Chōsō’s everything, but for some reason, he was radiating good cheer despite the glower sent his way.
“I’m sure we can work something out,” Pink Shit said.
Chōsō narrowed his eyes and whipped around to face Olivia. “Give me a room or give me the number to your corporate office.”
“Are you threatening her?” Pink Shit asked, scandalized.
“I put a hold on a room!” Chōsō was struggling and failing to maintain anything resembling a polite tone. His back was aching, he desperately wanted a shower, and he couldn’t remember when he’d last slept. He tossed a glare to his room rival and then one at Kamo for good measure before locking eyes with Olivia. “I have cash on me.”
“Are you bribing her?”
“Shut up,” Chōsō bit out, turning to scowl at the pink monstrosity. “You’re not stealing my room.”
“I can’t steal a room you haven’t paid for.”
“I’ll fight you.”
“I don’t believe in violence, but I’m trained in self-defense.”
If Chōsō were running off more than the ghost of caffeine’s past alongside pure survival instinct to seek out shelter, he might have had enough brain power to respond to that. As it was, he could only stare as his mind attempted to parse that sentence.
Olivia and Liam exchanged glances. Liam tilted his head slightly. Olivia subtly shook her head. Liam lifted his eyebrows. Olivia pressed her lips together.
Chōsō narrowed his eyes at the pair. “What? What is it?”
Liam turned his professional smile to no one in particular. “The room has two queen beds.”
The floor tilted under Chōsō’s weary feet. “You want me to share a room with him?”
“Oh! That sounds like a good solution.”
“It’s not a solution!” This had never happened to him before. Normies didn’t want to be within a 20-meter radius upon first meeting him on the best of days. This was his worst of days, and this absolute psychopath was willing to sleep in the same room. Chōsō was pretty sure he’d end up chopped into pieces and left in the bathtub at this rate.
“We can split room prices,” Liam said, still talking to the middle distance rather than the two complicated customers. Olivia’s smile tightened.
Pink Shit smiled in return. “I don’t mind!”
Chōsō waved a hand around his face to call attention to the tattoos and piercings that gave sane people pause. “You’re going to share a room with me?”
That mop of hair tilted to one side as big, guileless eyes stared back. “Why not?”
Chōsō turned to Olivia to make sure he wasn’t somehow wildly misunderstanding what was happening. She shrugged helplessly at him. “Does the hotel cover my life insurance if he turns me into a skin-suit?”
Olivia offered a perfect customer service expression. “The hotel is not responsible for damages incurred by guests.”
“This is the first level of hell, isn’t it?”
Kamo stepped toward the pink psychopath with a raised hand. “I’ll share a room with you.”
Chōsō whirled, baring his teeth. “No! Absolutely not!”
Kamo had the audacity to look offended.
Pink Shit grinned. “I don’t mind either way.”
If Chōsō’s options were sleeping at the airport while Kamo took the only free bed in a 25-km radius… “Fine!” Chōsō snatched up his bag and marched over to the other counter.
Liam appeared satisfied as he tapped a few buttons. “Your cards, please?”
Chōsō pulled out his card and reluctantly handed it over. He glanced to his right to see the multicolored card of his new temporary roommate and caught the name Itadori Yūji stamped on it. The fact that Pink Shit was Japanese was a bit more obvious up close. He still looked like a half-assed idol wannabe, but it gave Chōsō a solid description along with a full name to give to the cops if he woke with a pillow over his face.
As they waited, Chōsō shot off a text to his family about the delay. He was sure to get an earful about being late for the holiday, but it wasn’t his fault this time. The convention he’d been at ended a full week before Christmas, and then all he had to do was head to his mother’s house directly after. He should have been early for a change. No, he still would be. The flight would only be delayed for the night, right?
Liam handed their cards back along with a keycard to the room. He went into a long, rambling speech about amenities, room service, and housekeeping, but the words bounced off of Chōsō without much consequence. Now that the room was settled, his lizard brain was appeased, and the adrenaline was washing away.
Stay focused, he scolded himself. He couldn’t let himself relax until he was showered and his bag securely locked. He shivered again at a stray gust of wintry wind and set his jaw. First, put cards in wallet. Second, grab bag. Third, find elevator. He glanced around the dizzyingly large room with its festive decorations and was immediately lost. He swayed. Fourth, stay upright.
Itadori cleared his throat, catching Chōsō’s attention. He waved his hand to the far side of the lobby where a previously unnoticed bank of elevators waited. “After you.”
Chōsō grumbled something in response that even he wasn’t sure were coherent words before stumbling his way in that direction. There weren’t many people milling around and waiting, probably because he and his unfortunate roommate took the last beds while everyone prior was already upstairs enjoying their heaters. He was looking forward to cranking up the temperature the moment he crossed the threshold.
Itadori pressed multiple call buttons while Chōsō focused on staying upright and in one spot. He yawned wide enough to crack his jaw, his piercings dragging along his gums. Belatedly, he realized Itadori was standing beside him, a small rolling suitcase subtly placed behind Chōsō as if to catch him if he fell. Or maybe Itadori hoped Chōsō would fall over it and crack his head open for easier dissection.
The elevator dinged, doors opening to reveal a man with a shock of white hair and round sunglasses. He didn’t move to leave, however, remaining lounged against the handrail with a lazy smile. He must have been heading down to the conference hall sublevel since he didn’t look like staff. Chōsō and Itadori shuffled their way inside, prompting the man to offer a short greeting that Itadori brightly responded to while hitting the button for the seventh floor. He tilted his head at the rest of the unlit button options.
“Going up?” he asked.
The man grinned. “There’s no more rooms, but there’s plenty of places to get lost in.”
Itadori nodded like that was the most reasonable thing in the world. “It’s cold out there. Gotta do what ya gotta do.”
“Precisely.”
“Are you British?” he asked, entirely out of the blue.
The man laughed. “Do I sound it?”
“A little.”
“Good. I’m an actor!”
Chōsō did his best not to groan. After so many trips to L.A., just the word “actor” was enough to make him cringe.
“That’s so cool!” Itadori gushed. “I work in Pharmacy!”
“A noble career.”
Itadori rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, it’s just a lot of counting pills and printing labels.” He stuck out his hand. “My name’s Yūji.”
“Satoru.”
“You go by your given name?” Chōsō asked.
Itadori tilted his head. “Yeah. Why not? Everyone here does.”
Ugh, why was Chōsō trying to have a conversation? He turned away. “Do whatever you want.”
“And this is Chōsō!” Itadori tacked on.
Chōsō’s head whipped back around. “Why do you know my name?”
“It was on your card.”
“Don’t look at my shit! And we’re not close enough for you to call me that.”
“Ah, three Japanese men in an elevator complaining about names,” Satoru mused. “I didn’t miss this.”
“Then should I use your last name?” Itadori asked.
“You mean my first name,” Chōsō snapped.
“We’re in Canada. It’s flipped.”
“Fuck Canada. I’m Japanese.”
Itadori shrugged that off. “So what should I call you?”
“Toxin.”
Both men stared. Satoru choked on a snort. “Seriously?”
Chōsō would not blush. He’d never been embarrassed over his chosen name in his life. It was perfectly normal to have a working name like this in his industry, damn it! “You got a problem?”
“No problem at all,” Satoru all but sang.
“It’s nice to meet you, Toxin-san,” Itadori said with a bright smile.
“I thought you two were an item,” Satoru said. “Being Japanese men in Canada and all.”
Ding.
Chōsō didn’t bother addressing either of them and took off down the hall, glaring at door numbers as he went. He heard Itadori bidding farewell to the shitty actor before hurrying to catch up in time for Chōsō to stop at room 738.
“We should both test our keys,” Itadori said.
Chōsō pulled out his key card and shoved it into their room door. If it was a bad card and refused to open, he’d scream. Thankfully, for his sanity, the light turned green and the door clacked. He pushed his way inside with relief.
The two beds were nestled against the right wall, a nightstand in between them; on the left was a long dresser with a TV and coffee maker on top. There was a desk and rolling chair next to that, and behind it, a single stuffed chair shoved into what space there was between the far bed and the wall. A sliding door opposite him led to a narrow balcony barely big enough to stand on. Next to the entrance was the closet and around a short corner was the bathroom.
Basically, it was like every hotel room ever despite being twice the price of the one down the street. At least it smelled nice.
“I’ll take the first bed,” Chōsō announced before walking over and dropping his bag on the mattress. It was closest to the heater and farthest from the balcony in case there was a draft. He immediately turned to said heating unit and cranked it up.
“Are you planning to bake us alive?” Itadori complained.
“It’s cold.”
“But I can’t sleep if I’m too hot!”
“Like I care. I’m taking a shower and going to bed.” Chōsō ignored Itadori’s grumbling and grabbed the hotel phone to call for laundry services. Next, he assessed what free items were available in the bathroom. They provided a disposable toothbrush alongside basic shampoo, soap, and conditioner. There was only one robe. Chōsō grabbed it. “I’m taking this since I’m sending everything else to get washed.”
“Everything you have is dirty?”
“I was supposed to be going home.”
“Ah.”
Ping! He pulled out his phone and resisted the urge to feel guilty at seeing his mother’s icon.
Mom: Please be careful! The radar is showing a nasty storm in your area.
Chōsō: I have a room now. I’m fine.
Mom: Make sure to lock the door. Don’t talk to strangers.
Chōsō winced before sending an emoji so he wouldn’t have to lie about his room situation. He tossed the phone away from him with a sigh.
“Your girlfriend?” Itadori asked.
“Why is that your first assumption?”
“People usually sigh over girlfriends like that.”
Chōsō gagged. “Straight people.” He set about pulling out the clothes in his bag. It made an impressive pile of various shades of black. “It’s almost Christmas. Of course it’s my family.”
“Oh. Yeah.” The way Itadori said that was odd, but he was cheerful as ever when Chōsō spared a glance.
“Anyways, don’t touch my shit.” Chōsō flipped Itadori off as he made his way to the bathroom to change before room service arrived. The robe was in place the moment they knocked. He handed over the clothes and promptly went to take a shower, ignoring Itadori’s blatant curiosity about the exposed tattoos.
There was only a large stand-up shower available, but that would make it less easy to dissolve his body in lye. Small mercies. The water was hot enough to thaw Chōsō completely, and he went boneless under the spray. It took a long time before he came back to himself enough to remember that he needed to use actual soap to scrub the grime off. It took longer to convince himself that he wasn’t allowed to sleep under the warm jets surrounded by steam.
Reluctantly, he dragged himself away and dried off, donning his robe once more. He brushed his teeth before shuffling away from the blissful warmth of the bathroom. The door opened to the smell of food, and his stomach growled loud enough to catch Itadori’s attention. In the man’s hands was a cup of instant noodles, and it smelled heavenly.
“Where did you get that?” Chōsō asked before he could think better of it.
“Vending machine down the hall.” Itadori tossed another package at Chōsō who was too tired to do anything but fumble the catch. Surprisingly, Itadori didn’t point and laugh over it. Instead, he nodded to the coffee pot. “There’s still enough hot water left to make a second cup. Hotel room coffee pots can be really useful. I’ll probably use it again later for some instant oatmeal as a midnight snack. You should save your cup if you want some. I only have the little paper packets with me.”
Chōsō stared at his cup while Itadori rambled. He didn’t know why this simple act of kindness was throwing him so much, but it was. Shaking his head, he made his way over to the pot. He was too hungry to turn down food in any form currently. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
There were chopsticks sitting on the TV stand next to the coffee maker. They didn’t look disposable. “Are these yours?”
“Yep. When traveling, I always keep a silverware set on me, and it comes with two pairs of chopsticks. You can use those if you don’t wanna slurp straight from the cup.”
“Sure…thanks.”
Was Itadori actually a nice guy? Chōsō had been pretty focused on the fact anyone trying to steal his room was evil, and adding the polite smile meant psychopathic murderer for sure. But if he thought about it, Itadori had been willing to bunk with a hostile stranger when he could have just walked away. Frowning, Chōsō took his steeping noodles back to the bed with him, settling down against the pillows with a heavy sigh.
Unsurprisingly, he zoned out while waiting on the food. He was pretty sure Itadori was talking again, but he couldn’t concentrate. He didn’t phase back into reality until he finally noticed that he recognized the character running around on the screen. His eyebrows scrunched. “Is this Cast Away?”
“It’s a classic,” Itadori said, his voice halfway between excited and ready to defend the movie’s honor depending on Chōsō’s response.
“I haven’t seen it since I was a kid.”
“Then you’ll like it even more, now!”
At some point, Chōsō ate his meal, notable only because the noodles slapped him in the face every time he tried to slurp them into his mouth. He chugged the broth afterwards before searching for and failing to find the trash bin. He set the cup on the nightstand in defeat. The blurry numbers of the clock said it was still relatively early for this side of the continent, but it was midnight somewhere, damn it.
“You look ready to fall over,” Itadori noted.
Chōsō swayed and grunted an agreement. “They said my clothes would be done…sometime…”
“I’ll wake you up when they knock,” Itadori offered.
An hour ago, Chōsō wouldn’t have trusted the stranger next to him to care at all if Chōsō was left bereft of clothes and forced to hunt down employees in nothing but a bathrobe. Now? Well…a little kindness went a long way, and Chōsō was too addled to argue. He nodded, mumbled something in response, and then promptly crawled under the covers. He didn’t bother turning off any lights near him or worrying about the volume on the TV.
Within seconds of his head nestling into the pillow, he was gone.