Chapter Text
It's so silly, and he's sort of embarrassed.
Nightmares are for little kids. Little kids need their mommies to tuck them in when they have bad dreams, little kids need stuffed toys and soft blankets. Megumi is too old for all of that. He's been training with Gojo for months now, and he's not a first grader anymore - and, anyway, he's never really had a mother to tuck him in to begin with.
Or- maybe he did, once, but he only remembers vague outlines of hair like his own, murmurs or a soft voice, and warm hands - but no tucking in, all though there must have been, he just can't remember.
There had been Tsumiki, but she has her own room, now that they live here. Nanako and Mimiko share a room, because they are babies as far as Megumi is concerned, but Tsumiki had wanted her own room, and Megumi- of course he wanted his own room too! He was seven already.
Tsumiki doesn't like the dark, has always kept some light on during the night in their old apartment, but Megumi has always found comfort in the shadows. Gojo says that's appropriate for his technique, and Megumi thinks that makes perfect sense. But nights in this house, while never too dark for him, get sort of quiet, sometimes. He wakes up from a dream burdened by the curses he sees daily, and hears only the clock in the living room ticking faintly and the quiet humming of the pipes.
He feels a pit in his stomach, and he feels so, so stupid. He knows how to fight curses now. He understands, now, for the most part, what it all means, and he shouldn't be afraid anymore. Gojo is a ridiculous, ridiculous guy, but Megumi recognises how strong the two men providing them shelter are. He knows nothing can reach him here, in the night, him or his sister.
His sisters, now, he supposes. He doesn't know when he wound up with three instead of one. Perhaps even before they officially moved here, while they were still all awkwardly cramped at the dormitory. He finds he doesn't mind.
Though, the curses in his nightmares are uglier than the one he sees on the street, and his strength feels far away when he faces them. He curls up in his dream and wakes up in the same position, on his side, feeling terribly helpless. Most of the time, his sisters are in the dream. Sometimes, he can't get to them on time. Sometimes he does, but he can't do anything to protect them. Either way, the tightness in his guts is there when he blinks his eyes open to a silent apartment and the stupid ticking of the clock he never hears during the day time.
Most nights, he pads sock-clad feet out of his room and to the living room, calls his dogs out of the shadows and falls asleep watching the television curled up against the soft fur. They don't really play cartoons this late, but he doesn't particularly care what's on, he just craves some noise, some distraction, even if it's boring cooking shows or the late night news recaps. His dogs help him feel safer, which he knows is stupid, because Gojo can probably tell he's in the living room anyway, and if a curse really were to come for them, with Gojo and Geto around his dogs probably wouldn't even get a chance to try and do any defending at all- but it makes him feel calmer, and they're nice, warm, even though Tsumiki thinks its freaky when he leans on them, because she doesn't see anything but empty air, and- it's very different from stuffed animals - they're real dogs, okay?
Tonight they're with him even as he walks from his room to the living room. They follow his commands without him having to say anything pretty smoothly these days, after plenty of training, and at this point, they feel more like extensions of his own self rather then strange ghosts he used to call on by accident.
He rubs his eyes sleepily as he enters the living room, and perhaps that's why he doesn't immediately see the two boys sitting on the couch. Or maybe it's because the television isn't even on, just a lamp next to Geto's side of the couch he's using to read, and the faint glow of Gojo's phone.
He's sitting with a bored look directed at his flip phone with faint clicks coming from it implying he's playing some game, with his legs extended over Geto's lap, and he, of course, spots Megumi immediately, turning a curious eye at him.
He freezes a little, not having expected company, and Geto, having seen him too, looks up from his book with a slightly confused frown.
Megumi never sees them like this. They're usually up when he gets up and up when he goes to bed, doing - something, their jobs, or chores, or something. Never like this, Geto's hair down and legs pyjama clad and Gojo's long limbs all over the couch and the other boy. It's sort of strange, kind of intimidating.
"Megumi?" Gojo says, in that same way he always says his name, kind of- cutesy, or something, a little bit teasing, but this time, a little bit soft, too, in the dim light. Megumi feels one of his dogs put its head under his hand to ask for pets.
"Is everything okay?" Geto asks, looking at his dogs, which aren't usually just out and about unless he's training, at least during the daytime.
If it was just Gojo, he would have probably made up some excuse for being up this late and went back into his room immediately, all grumpy, and he would never hear of this again. But Geto's sort of... well, cool. Megumi knows him less, because he spends so much time training with Gojo, but he knows he's much cooler than his teacher, with his hair and his piercings and his attitude and the smooth way he's kind in, always comforting and never too invasive. Megumi doesn't want to go back to his room anyway, really doesn't want to deal with the way nothing seems real in the darkened silence except the curses from his dreams. So he doesn't know exactly what to say, feeling caught.
"Yeah." He says, because everything is okay. "I just- couldn't sleep." He says, and it sounds uncertain, and his own voice sounds kinda too soft to him.
Gojo moves his legs from Geto's lap to sit normally, folding away his phone, and watching Megumi with this slightly concerned look that makes him feel both seen and kind of pissed off.
"Sorry, we're invading your spot tonight. You're early." Gojo says with a small smile, glancing at the clock. It is only around midnight, earlier than when he usually wakes up from nightmares.
"You can still watch the T.V." Geto says casually, and this surprises Megumi.
He knows, from Tsumiki's mom, and from his dad, that watching the television at night was something only adults did, and kids got punished for.
He supposes it makes sense to Megumi that Geto, cool as he is, doesn't follow the strict rules adults usually have for children, though he's usually pretty serious about no sweets before meals.
Too embarrassed to turn around, he supposes he has to double down, waddle awkwardly to sit in between the two boys. The couch isn't really large enough for his dogs to fit next to him. Geto politely returns to reading his book, but Gojo doesn't stop staring at him - without his glasses on, too, bare-eyed for the night.
"You're staring at me with your creepy eyes again." He grumbles as he fiddles with the remote, thinks of what's appropriate to watch, the volume low as he flips through channels. He hears Geto snort and feels a little proud about that.
"You're creepy." Gojo counters maturely, and Megumi rolls his eyes. "You come to watch T.V. only to fall asleep. Isn't that counter productive?" Gojo muses theatrically, and Megumi only has time to glare at him before Geto speaks.
"Let him, Satoru. It's Friday anyway." Geto abandons his book in favour of watching the television with mild interest, which makes Megumi sort of panic and stop flicking on some show about dirt bike races. Dirt bikes are cool, right? "I used to do that, when I was little."
"Hm. Maybe he got that from you." Gojo says, as if any of them are somehow blood related at all.
"My room was too silent, so I'd sneak to the couch to watch the soap operas my mom kept accidentally leaving on." He says, and Megumi smiles a little at the funny image, Geto, younger than he is but probably still cool, watching soap operas in his mom's house.
"My room is too silent." He confirms, hugging his knees to his chest so the black dog can fit in front of him, as the white one accepts his fate and lays on the carpet, seeming comfortable. They're as large as him currently, but he swears he's been catching up.
"Say, Megumi," Gojo asks, settling into a more comfortable position on his end of the couch. "How come you're always interested in television past your bed time?" He asks. Megumi, at this point in time, doesn't yet know how to pick up on this tone of his, this tone that indicates he's digging for more answers than Megumi plans on giving him. This tone that's maybe a little concerned.
Megumi huffs. "Wouldn't you like to know." He grumbles. The dirt bike stuff is kind of weird, but the next channel over has Ninja Warrior, which he leaves on.
"You know, you don't have to be embarrassed." Geto says, shifting so he's sitting properly, and therefore, pretty close to Megumi. "Even most adult sorcerers struggle with sleeping, you know? It's almost part of the job description." He says, and Megumi turns to look at him, surprised at how easily he's been read. Geto only smiles a little at him, comforting. "You can come to us, if you want, there's ways to deal with nightmares and stuff, you know?"
Megumi sniffles, turning his chin back towards his folded arms. "I'm not a baby. I don't get nightmares."
He hears Geto laugh lightly. "Really? Cause I do."
Megumi turns to look at him surprised again. "Really?"
"Mhm. All the time. Just that Satoru snores loud enough that I don't need to watch T.V. for noise." He says, and Gojo, who has been quiet so far, laughs a little. Which is sort of strange- usually he would probably yelp, all offended, but everything seems kinda muted down, now, to Megumi's nightmare-shaken sleepy brain anyway.
He doesn't know what to do with the way Geto is looking at him, so patient it makes him sort of squirm.
Megumi smiles a little at the joke, too. "That sounds worse than my nightmares." He says, then wishes he hadn't said it so explicitly, when it gets too late.
Suguru's smile softens, and he says, somehow seamlessly even with how loaded the statement is "You know, if you tell us what your nightmare's are like, we could probably help." He says, and then adds "But only if you want to."
He feels both of them looking at him from different sides, and buries his face a bit deeper into the arms folded on his knees.
He doesn't know what it is that makes him open his mouth and talk. It's sure as hell not Gojo's creepy stare, or even the nightmareish fear still rattling his bones every now and then. Its something else entirely that makes him trust these boys, some gap in his soul he's instinctively trying to close up whichever way he can, some gap shaped suspiciously like a home.
"I'm not scared of curses." He starts with, just to clear it up. "But that's because I can fight them now. And.... and you can, too. But- but some people- some people can't, and- and I-" He struggles a little "Like- you know? Some people couldn't do anything. Couldn't even see them. And I- would be sad if they -" He stumbles over the sentence and then trails off, a little angry at himself for how poorly he's constructing his thoughts. It's just that thinking of the dreams makes him all scared again, like he's only just woken up. He feels shaky and childish.
"You worry about your sister?" Gojo asks, gentle like Megumi never hears him, not accusing at all.
Megumi hides his face all the way up to his nose. "- and- and Nanako, and Mimiko." He mumbles.
He wasn't going to say all of that, but now that they're mentioning it, images of his dreams start flashing in front of him, and they're so terrible, so real looking, that he- well, he needs someone to comfort him, a little bit. He feels silly and weak and horrible, but he remembers being little and crying and his mother holding him, shushing him, and his stupid brain seems to think that if he cries now his mom might appear out of the shadows too. The hole within his soul pulses and he feels a large, warm palm approach him, like it wants to cup it closed.
"Oh, Megumi," He hears Geto whisper. He wasn't supposed to tell anyone he worries so much about the twins, that they're his sisters now, too, in a way. His voice makes the tears in his eyes gather faster as he rubs at them furiously. Geto holds his wrist gently, his fingers easily wrapping themselves around them in a loose grip, pulling them away from where he's trying to rub his eyes raw. "Hey- hey, it's alright."
But it's not. The dreams repeat themselves, and they're so vivid, nothing like anything Megumi's ever seen in real life, just gruesome predictions of what might happen if those awful monsters got to his sisters. The images flash in his head and he wants nothing more than to forget them.
He wants nothing more than his mom.
He doesn't remember her, has barely met her, and doesn't know what she would do seeing him upset like this, but he knows it would have helped. He reaches and reaches for that comfort his mother took with her when she left, and doesn't know if he's reaching for her, or just for something, anything, that could feel as warm.
Geto moves his hands away from his eyes, meets them with his own. He looks like calmness personified, to Megumi, raven hair falling over his shoulder as he watches him with eyebrows drawn up. Megumi keeps hiccuping helplessly, wishing it would stop, wishing he could hide. He feels Gojo's hand on his arm and that's terrible, that even Gojo's comforting him, that he's so miserable they're both fussing over him like he's a little baby girl.
"It's okay, Megumi, you can cry." Geto whispers, so sincerely that there's no coming back for Megumi.
He loses his sight with how thick the tears are and doesn't even notice how honestly he's sobbing until awhile later. He's crying into some fabric, now, he thinks maybe Geto's shirt, getting the soft cotton all wet. He feels arms around him and rubs on his back and a steady hand that must be Gojo's on him, too. Later, when he's older, he'll recall how the way Gojo was with him back then was hesitant, how he himself was too young to know how to comfort a child no matter how desperately he wanted to. Now, though, his hand feels nice and warm and Megumi feels better when the sobs are spilling out instead of chocking him up.
He realises Geto's hand is patting his hair gently as he calms down, and his cheeks flare with the mix of embarrassment and crying.
"You know," Gojo starts, once Megumi has mostly stopped crying, still hiding his face in Geto's shirt. Megumi feels him settle in closer, back against the couch pillow properly, rubbing at Megumi's back. "You could learn to pick apart everyone's energy. That helps me."
This makes Megumi emerge from his hiding spot, slowly and teary-eyed, finding he's pretty firmly pressed between Gojo and Geto now, his two dogs looking up at him from the floor with their chins propped up on the couch. Gojo's other hand is laid across the couch seat, rubbing Geto's shoulder, as if- as if Geto needed comforting too, as Megumi cried.
"You-?"
"Have nightmares? Oh boy, all the time." Gojo says easily.
"But..." Megumi sniffles, rubs at his eye. "What could you be afraid of?"
Gojo smiles a little, and it's not a smile Megumi has seen him wear before, during the months he's known him. "Same thing as you, Gumi."
"But you could protect anyone!" Megumi says abruptly, doesn't notice the way the boys around him are looking at each other.
"Just like you could protect your sisters, if you had to." Geto says, and Megumi notices he's still smoothing down his hair occasionally, and that's embarrassing, isn't it? But it's all... soft, and warm, and it makes him tired. He doesn't have the strength to tear himself away from this softness he's been craving ever since he stopped receiving it from his late mother. "Your nightmares aren't real. They're just your fears."
"You know-" Megumi picks up his knees again, arms loose around them as he stares his thighs down instead of looking anyone in the eye. "I'm not scared. I'll just keep getting better until I'm stronger than every curse, like you are. But just- I guess I forget that, when I'm sleeping."
The two are silent for a moment, and Megumi wants to hide, or something. It's too much, suddenly being taken care of, when he's been cold, and a little hungry, for as long as he can remember. Like when one's so starved the thought of food makes them sick, all messed up and illogical.
"Hey, let's try this." Gojo says, and Megumi turns his eyes to frown at him. "Close your eyes."
"No."
"C'mon," Gojo insists, and he's weirdly gentle about it. "It makes me feel better. You should try."
Reluctantly, he lets his eyes flutter closed. That feels nice. They've been stinging from tears and from the late hour.
"Do you feel me?" Gojo asks.
"Yeah, you're pretty damn close." Megumi grumbles, and Gojo laughs a little.
"No, my energy. You do, right? Look-" He does something, Megumi's not sure what, to activate his tehnique for a moment, making a blink of something that feels like a blue light but isn't actually visible flash in the room. Megumi does feel it. It feels like what a snowy day smells like, cold and fresh and- sort of nice, cozy. "You feel that, right?"
Megumi nods.
"Okay. Try Suguru now. You feel him?"
If Gojo's snow, then Geto's rain, calmer and darker, and sort of damp, like the smell of autumn. He's a bit harder to pick apart, but he's there, his hand that seems huge next to Megumi's little body comforting on his shoulder. He wants to sink back into the couch now, let these two sensations wash over him until the quiet stops bothering him. He nods, a little weaker, now.
"Okay." Gojo says, and Megumi doesn't even notice how quiet his voice has gotten. "Now you could try the twins. Do you remember what they feel like?"
Megumi feels his eyebrows scrunch up in concentration. He does remember what the twins feel like. They're all warm, but not necessarily in a comforting way, more in a childlike way, like the hot sun on the playground floor or the buzz of cicadas. They're more playful, less steady, wavering. Less like something that shields and more like something that should be shielded. He reaches out for it now, through that constant buzz of energy he's been getting better at feeling, and finds he does catch on to it, as faint as that ticking noise of the clock, but present.
Megumi nods again, but mumbles. "I can't tell which one's which, though." He says, hears Gojo exhale a small laugh.
"That's alright. You feel how they're both here?" He says, and Megumi just nods again. "You could tell if something was wrong, too. It's not, though - they're both calm, aren't they?" Megumi has to agree. They feel small even through their energy, barely above toddlers while Megumi's a proper school boy these days. He feels a fierce sort of determination to protect.
"Try Tsumiki now. That might be harder." Gojo continues. "She doesn't have much cursed energy. But you spent a lot of time with her, maybe you could find it."
He's right, Megumi knows she feels less intense. It's kind of like all the sorcerers he knows reek of cursed energy, in ways obviously unique to them, but like his sister and her mom and the kids at school and the people on the street barely smell like anything. They all just have their vague imprints, the colors their souls come in muted but not completely colorless. He feels the energy he thinks feels like a sort of soft pink, almost gray, that Tsumiki radiates, that muted pink that was his only comfort for so long, somewhere across the house.
"I think I can." He mumbles, sounding kinda sleepy even to himself.
"What's she doing?"
"She's... breathing, real slow." He says, feels the way the silent, small glow of his sister pulsates gently in calm breaths.
"She's sleeping." Gojo explains. "That helps me, picking apart everyone in the house, so I can convince myself everything's in order." He says, and he's pretty quiet, and it's making Megumi and his closed eyes sleepy. "It's nice, right?"
Megumi would nod again, but that's sounding kind of difficult, with the way his head is getting heavy. He mumbles something that could be 'mhm'. Tsumiki really is breathing quite steadily, calming like when his dogs sleep on his chest and he can feel their breaths and heartbeats. He thinks he's beginning to be able to pick apart Nanako and Mimiko apart, too, when he tries to.
His face has gotten smushed, at some point, against something soft and warm and smelling of a winter's day. There's gentle fingers in his hair and it's....
It's not his mom. Even so tired, he knows so much, has spent too many of his few years grieving what he will never be able to have replaced to confuse it for something else.
It's not a mother, and yet, he's so warm here. Gojo asks "Wanna be in your room?", devastatingly gently, and Megumi shakes his head against whatever he's leaning on. "Okay." Gojo whispers back. "We can stay here for a while."
That's good. He's really very comfortable. He's being held against a firm chest with a steady heartbeat and it's not a mother, not at all, but its family.
He might be fully in Gojo's lap now, and that's embarrassing, but Gojo doesn't seem to be making fun of him, or joking, at all. He's holding him and Megumi's too tired to think about how safe he feels.
The promise of Infinity on his side, the promise of his sisters' breathing in the energy of the house, the promise of something lovely and warm like a home where it holds him like he's a small child - convinces him he can afford not to be so awake right now. He's never felt so content while falling asleep before, carless like a child should be, simply drifting off without baggage.
He feels, through a thick fog of sleepiness, the moment he's scooped up and carried upstairs, but he wants to cling to this some more, clench his tiny hand around cotton fabric and hold on, for a little more until he's in his own bed.
He feels strong arms lower him to his bed. Tuck him in, too. He curls into his blanket, hugging it with both hands, feels distantly a hand smoothing back hair from his forehead.
Nothing's hurting you while I'm here, he thinks he remembers hearing, through the haze of his dream. Any of you. I promise, okay?
•
Gojo didn't shut the door properly, Megumi thinks bitterly in a half asleep state, as the light from the hallway pokes a little at his shut eyes. He blinks them open, not quite awake, thinks he sees Gojo through the fairly-wide gap in his door.
He sees him sitting on the floor, across the hall, leaning against the wall next to the door that leads to the living room. He looks sort of upset, maybe, head low with a hand combing through his hair, other arm leaning on his knee.
Megumi wonders if everything is alright, but then sees Geto approach, and knows it will be, must be.
Geto touches Gojo's head kind of like he did Megumi's, all gentle-like and careful.
"You alright?"
Gojo nods a little. "Mhm."
Megumi sees, through the slits of his eyes, Geto sit down next to Gojo, expression all concerned. He sees Gojo lean his face into Geto's neck, lean his whole self into the other boy, and concludes he must be dreaming.
"We've got children." Gojo says weakly.
Geto laughs, a little wet. "Yeah." He confirms.
"We're nineteen."
"...Yeah."
Gojo buries his head firmer into Geto's hair, the two leaning on each other on the floor in the hallway like that's something that might happen every day.
"I would fucking kill for them." Is what comes from Gojo, deathly serious. Geto just laughs again, though, endlessly fond, kisses the top of Gojo's hair.
"I know, baby."
"I don't know if I can be good enough for them."
Geto puts both his arms around Gojo, kind of like he did for Megumi, except Gojo is much broader, holding him gently, and Megumi, half asleep and seven, thinks he might be starting to get it, what it means when someone's family.
"I know," Geto says softly "We're figuring it out together."
Gojo nods, settling into their odd embrace, leaning on Geto with his hand around his shoulder. "I know."
Megumi lets his eyes fall back shut and dismisses this moment as a dream for years to come.