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It’s summertime. You’re off from school, Yuuji’s off from school, and Sukuna still has to work, but he comes home from the auto shop with sweat-shined skin and coveralls bunched around his hips, so you’re not complaining.
Yuuji just finished his third year at university, with a major in sports medicine and a minor in absolutely destroying on the track. He’s relatively close by, and you and Sukuna watch his track meets when you can. The kid’s sprouted like a tree, as tall as Sukuna now. He keeps insisting he’s going to get a tattoo, just to prove he can. Sukuna snorts, says he’ll believe it when he sees it.
Sukuna’s still at the same auto shop, and you’ve just wrapped your eighth year at the high school. He’s as steady as steel, but you’re starting to get restless. You’re thinking about getting another teaching certification, maybe adding another subject.
But that’s for next year, if at all. For now, it’s summertime. The heat is blistering, but the three of you are cool in the grocery store.
You wrote the grocery list, because Yuuji and Sukuna have ADHD and you can’t go another week without milk. You hand the list off to Sukuna and he grumbles, wheeling the cart toward the fruits and vegetables. You always pick bad apples, and Yuuji always rips the finicky plastic bags.
Sukuna’s on produce, and you and Yuuji get to play your favorite game.
“Okay.” You point to Yuuji. “What’s he thinking, champ?”
Yuuji rubs his chin, considering. Surrounded by fruits, Sukuna picks up a banana and stares at it menacingly.
“‘This banana has more black spots than I have tattoos,’” Yuuji growls, choking on the end of it.
You snicker along with him. “‘I have to get fucking ten of them because that brat eats two a day!’” you joke as Sukuna loads bananas into a bag.
“Hey! Why the drive-by?” Yuuji asks, affronted.
“You’re eating all our bananas,” you point out. “That’s why he has to get fucking ten of them.” You glance at Sukuna to see him scowling. “‘God fucking forbid I get to eat a damn banana,’” you say, pitching your voice low.
“I’m literally training!” Yuuji insists. “I’m an athlete!”
“We’re aware,” you deadpan. “We’re very proud of you. You’re still eating all our damn bananas.”
“Fine,” he grouches. “I’ll stop.”
“Eh,” you shrug. “Don’t need to. Just know I’ll never let you forget it.”
Yuuji rolls his eyes. “Fine.” He watches Sukuna examine some raspberries. “‘Maybe if I get some she’ll bake me some of those jelly cookies,’” he rasps.
You cock an eye at him. “Do you want some of those jelly cookies?”
“Maybe.” The two of you stare with rapt attention as Sukuna puts them in the cart. “Score!” Yuuji chirps happily.
You sigh. “Fine. I’ll add flour to the list, I think we’re out.”
“Yes!” Yuuji pumps his hand in the air, but you quickly grab his shoulder.
“Yuuji!” you hiss. “Yuuji, he’s coming back over here!”
He gives you a look. “So?” Then he looks at the cart. “Oh my god.”
“Forgot the fucking tomatoes,” you mumble.
“He’s the one who wanted pizza!” Yuuji says, outraged.
“I think we should put him down,” you say seriously.
“Agreed.” The two of you cross your arms over your chest and frown as Sukuna comes over.
He takes the both of you in. “Fucking what?” he says irritably.
“Thought you wanted me to make you pizza,” Yuuji asks threateningly.
“You wanted your darling cousin to slave over a hot oven, and you can’t even get a key ingredient?” you ask in mock outrage.
Yuuji manages a serious expression. “I’m changing my parental guardianship.”
You slap a hand over your mouth to keep from shrieking.
“Save it for my fucking birthday,” Sukuna growls.
“Did you even read the list?” you ask, biting back a smile.
Sukuna wrinkles his nose. “Fuck, no.”
“Then why’d I write it?”
He shrugs. “Shits and gigs,” but he’s grinning at you.
You roll your eyes. “Fucking fantastic. Go get Yuuji his tomatoes before he moves out and never calls you again.”
“Can’t wait,” Sukuna says flatly, but he’s already turning back around.
You and Yuuji sit in silence for a moment. “‘Now which fucking tomatoes do I get so the brat shuts the hell up,’” you mumble out of the corner of your mouth.
Yuuji wheezes so hard Sukuna shoots him a glare.
Tomatoes in the cart, you give the list to Yuuji, who walks determinedly to the sauces, cans, and spices aisle.
“That kid does the brunt of the work,” you say, watching him go.
“Mmh.” Sukuna slips his hand into the back pocket of your shorts.
You stare at him pointedly. “You are pushing a shopping cart.”
“Think I can’t do that with one hand?” He grins slyly. “What d’you think I have these muscles for, just for you to look at?” Sukuna flexes, just to be an ass.
“Yup,” you nod, staring unabashedly.
Sukuna snaps his fingers in front of your nose. “Right, come on.” He glances around before looking at an egg slicer hanging in front of the shelves. “Why does the brat need this?”
Your other favorite game. “Eggs are protein,” you argue, “and it’s to save time. ‘I’m literally an athlete, Ryo,’” you parrot Yuuji from earlier. “‘I’m a runner. Being fast is kinda the point.’”
Sukuna snorts. “Kid runs long distance.’”
“To be fast,” you say, mock-serious.
He rolls his eyes, but takes the hand out of your pocket to hook around your waist and pull you closer. “Fine. Your go.”
You walk slowly through the aisle. “Oh, okay.” You nod at a jar of clam juice. “Why does Yuuji need this?”
“Duh. Bloody Marys.”
“Yuuji does not know what goes in a Bloody Mary” you inform him. “Try again.”
“Tch.” He thinks for a moment. “Sweets, pasta sauce.”
“Oh, damn it.” You shake your head at yourself while Sukuna snickers. “Pick another.”
“Hm.” He surveys the aisle while you drum your fingers on the cart’s handle. “Here, look.” He gestures with his chin at a device that shaves the fuzz off a peach. “Why does the brat need that fucking thing?”
“You always go for the gadgets,” you mutter.
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a genius. Now come on,” he smirks at you. “Pull something outta your ass.”
You stare at it, thinking hard. “Sensory overstimulation?” you try.
“Weak.”
“Hey,” you say, defensively, “I—”
“Got it!” Yuuji sings from behind you, leaning over to dump his haul into the cart. You snag the list from him and hand it to Sukuna, who eyes the load critically.
“Brat.” He huffs. “Why’d you get four extra things?”
Yuuji shrugs. “Zest for life.” His eyes alight on the clam juice. “Oh! Can we make Bloody Marys?”
Sukuna cackles at you while you pinch Yuuji on the arm.
“What?”
Shaking your head, you grab the list from Sukuna and stalk over to the dairy and meat aisle.
Two cartons of milk, but you’ll get that last, you think to yourself. Two packs of ground beef, well—
You squint at the list. Three packs, you decide, grabbing a third. Yuuji and Sukuna will burn through two on their own. And the beef is useful, Yuuji can use it to throw something together.
Chicken, you requested chicken chili for tomorrow. It really is great having Yuuji home, you think to yourself as you stack the chicken on top of the beef. You and Sukuna can’t cook for shit.
Meat acquired, you move left. Cheese, for Sukuna’s pizza, yoghurt for the morning, and now eggs.
Putting your load down gingerly, you carefully select a carton and open it. Eyes narrowed, you scrutinize each egg to check for cracks.
Behind you, there’s footsteps, a squeak of the cart’s wheels.
Then—
“‘I have to check every egg to make sure they’re eggs.’”
“‘One time I bought a carton with two broken eggs and it haunts me to this fucking day.’”
You whirl around, outraged. Yuuji has the good grace to look apologetic, but Sukuna grins. “‘Those broken eggs are the last thing I see at night and the first thing in the morning. I’ll be damned if I’m ever cheated like that again.’”
“Excuse you!” you shriek.
“You look for, like, five minutes every time,” Yuuji insists.
“If it’s broken, you’ll fucking know,” Sukuna smirks gleefully.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are we gonna talk about routines?” you challenge. “Are we gonna to talk about small habits to get through the day? Are we gonna talk about neurodivergent coping mechanisms?”
They shut up at that one. “Yeah, the poster boys for ADHD trying to tell me about an anxiety routine,” you mutter hotly.
Yuuji pipes up. “You’re being ableist,” he accuses, with a grin that looks too much like Sukuna’s. Then he turns and runs to the checkout line.
Sukuna chokes. You gape at Yuuji’s retreating back. “I’m with the kid,” Sukuna adds, before pacing quickly after him.
Spluttering, you shout “I hope you noticed that grocery list was color coded!”
Huffing, you turn to your pile of meat and cheese. Overwhelming, plus you need to get milk.
Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you call Yuuji.
He picks up instantly. “Wh—”
“I need help!” you scream down the line.
Both men reappear moments later. You try to scowl, but your lips twitch; you can’t keep the grin off your face.
“Come on, help the ableist carry the milk,” you order as they load it into the cart.
Sukuna rolls his eyes, and Yuuji coughs, smiling. “Gonna carve that on my forehead. Gonna put that on my resume,” you add, just to tease him. “Right under ‘special education teacher.’ A sped teacher that’s ableist.”
Yuuji shrugs. “The career center at school says everyone’s looking for diversity hires.”
Sukuna laughs out loud at that one.
You follow them through the check out line, mutter with Sukuna over the total, then cross the parking lot in the heat and shove everything in Sukuna’s car. Sukuna tasks Yuuji with returning the cart, because he’s an athlete. He goes, grumbling miserably.
You expect Sukuna to get in the car, but instead he watches Yuuji across the lot, chewing on his lip.
You bump your hip into his. “What is it?”
“Kid asked me if he could move back in for a bit after he graduates next year,” he says finally. “Told him I had to talk to you, first.”
You’re shocked. “What? Why? He’s your cousin. It’s your house.”
“‘S your house, too,” Sukuna says measuredly, eyes fixed over your shoulder. “You stopped leasing the other place, remember?”
You fall silent.
“You pay rent,” he points out. “You sleep in my bed.”
“I’d do that anyway,” you mumble with a small grin.
His lips twitch, but that’s all. You bite the inside of your cheek.
“I don’t—do I get a say?”
Sukuna’s gaze is steady. He’s giving you one.
You feel you might cry. “Of—of course I want Yuuji there,” you say thickly.
Sukuna’s expression doesn’t change, but he exhales, long and low. “Good.”
You stand there awkwardly for a few seconds. He’s the first to shake it off. “Tch. C’mon, sweets,” he pulls you into his arms. “Don’t get too emotional.”
“Okay.” You sniffle against his chest. “Thanks. Love you.”
“Tch.” You feel his sharp swallow against your head. “Love you too.”
Sukuna keeps you in his arms until Yuuji bounds over. “Took you long enough,” he mutters. “Thought you were a star athlete.”
Yuuji waits patiently until you’re out of the line of fire, then shoves Sukuna into the door of the car.
Hissing, Sukuna tries to box his ears, but Yuuji dodges, going for the knees. You walk several steps away and observe.
Sukuna growls, grabbing onto Yuuji’s nose and yanking his face downward.
“Ouch!” Yuuji wrestles himself free, then kicks Sukuna in the shin.
“Fucking ow!” You snort as Sukuna glares at him indignantly. “After I just bought you all that food?” he snarls. “I changed my mind, you fucking freeloader, you can’t move back in after college.”
Yuuji gasps. “I can move back in?” He looks between you and Sukuna.
“Tch.”
You nod, smiling softly.
“Yes!” Yuuji pumps his fist in the air, then crawls into the backseat.
You open the passenger side door, catching Sukuna’s eyes over the roof of the car. He shrugs, grin lopsided and perfect.
You beam at him like a lovesick idiot. He raps his fingers on the roof and slides inside.
Seatbelt buckled, you hand out a lazy hand for the aux cord. “My turn,” you remind Yuuji.
“Ugh, fine. Just don’t play anything ass.”
“No one wants to hear your bubblegum pop, brat,” Sukuna says as he puts the car in drive.
“I’m playing my summer playlist,” you inform them. “The one you’ve heard every other day for a month.”
They both groan as you queue it up. “Put more songs on it,” Yuuji grumbles. “There’s like, ten.”
“Only ones that made the cut,” you say happily.
They both grumble unhappily. You settle in for the drive, fingers tapping lightly on Sukuna’s hand where it rests on the gearshift.
A ping cuts through the music, and you glance at the notification. It’s from the kid behind you, and you knock your head lightly against the headrest before opening it up.
It’s an Instagram post of a candy rack at a gas station. You frown, until you spot the caption:
Limited Edition Human Earthworm Six jelly worms! Get them while supplies last!
You meet Yuuji’s gaze in the rearview mirror and nod solemnly.
Sukuna catches it. “What?” he says irritably.
“Ryo,” you begin carefully. “Can we go to the gas station?”
He shoots you a look. “We are driving back from the grocery store.”
“Doesn’t your car need gas?” Yuuji tries.
Sukuna glances at the fuel gauge. “No.”
Damn.
“Why do you want to go to the gas station?” Sukuna grits out.
“There’s limited edition Human Earthworm candy!” Yuuji says excitedly. “For the new movie!”
Sukuna rolls his eyes and you cringe. “You both should be fucking embarrassed,” he mutters. “That franchise is the worst thing to come out of Hollywood since they remade Tron.”
“Yes,” you agree. “And that’s why it’s good.”
“No!” Yuuji argues, “it’s good because it’s art!”
“Shouldn’t have paid for that fucking film elective you took,” Sukuna grumbles. “How do you even know the gas station has the damn candy?”
“I know the guy,” Yuuji says seriously. “He said he’d hold anything Human Earthworm for me.”
Sukuna snorts. “You have a Human Earthworm guy?”
“Yes,” Yuuji insists. “I’m prepared and resourceful.”
“Fine,” Sukuna says, rolling his eyes and getting in the left lane. “But if that candy’s not there or the milk turns, you're cleaning out the fridge.”
“What?” Yuuji gasps. “We haven’t done that all summer! I thought we agreed it would be a collective effort!”
Sukuna shrugs. “That was before you threatened to waste my time.”
“Fine.” Sukuna pulls into the gas station, and Yuuji undoes his seatbelt and flies out of the car.
“How much you wanna bet that candy’s ass?” Sukuna mutters.
You cover the top of his hand with yours. He flexes his fingers as yours dig lightly into his knuckles.
“None, I’m not taking that bet. I don’t bet on losing dogs,” you say easily.
Yuuji reappears a few minutes later, bag of fluorescent candy in hand. He gets back in the car, and Sukuna quickly maneuvers back onto the road.
You hear Yuuji rip the bag open. He pops a rubber worm in his mouth and chews carefully.
“Oh, wow. This is ass.”
“I fucking told you,” Sukuna mutters.
“Here, lemme try.” You reach behind you, and Yuuji puts the bag in your hand. You toss a worm in your mouth.
“Yup,” you agree. “That’s ass, all right.”
“Wanna try?” You hold one up to Sukuna’s mouth without waiting for an answer.
Begrudgingly, he lets you put it on his tongue.
Sukuna gags immediately and spits it back into your hand. “Fuck, that shit is ass.”
“Ryo!” you shout, opening the window and flinging the worm into nature. “Disgusting!”
“Wow.” Yuuji pauses. “And so the earthworm returns to Earth. I think it’s what the writers would have wanted.”
You cackle as Sukuna rubs a hand over his eyes. “You taught him bullshit like that in your class, didn’t you?”
He looks at you accusatorially. Not really, but you’ll take the credit.
You move your gaze to the rearview mirror, where Yuuji’s is waiting. Wearily, Sukuna glances up to look at the two of you.
You and Yuuji grin. “You’re welcome.”