Chapter Text
“All things considered, the procedure went well,” says the doctor standing before Suguru and you. “He should be waking up relatively soon.”
Suguru lets out a quiet breath, shoulder relaxing as he leans back against the clinic wall. He offered the doctor a polite, composed smile, though there’s a flicker of amusement in his narrow eyes.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Suguru replies, his voice a calm, melodic contrast to the clinical sterility of the room. He shifted his weight, sliding a hand into his pocket while the other reaches out to give your hand a reassuring squeeze. He leans closer, speaking quietly so that only you hear. “I’m just hoping he doesn’t try to teleport out of the bed the moment we mention the ice cream.”
You smile at him, knowing that’s exactly what will happen.
The recovery room was quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of the monitor and the sight of Satoru slumped in the chair. The once-impeccable ‘Strongest’ was currently a mess; his glasses pushed up to his forehead, leaving his crystalline blue eyes half-lidded and glazed over. Gauze was stuffed firmly into his cheeks, making his face look puffy, like a disgruntled chipmunk.
He let out a muffled unintelligible groan, his head lolling to the side as he caught sight of you. A slow, loopy grin spread across his face though it was hindered by the cotton in his mouth.
“Mmm… ‘m awake,” he mumbled, the words sounding thick and slurred. He reached out a clumsy hand toward you, his fingers grasping at the air with zero coordination. “You… you’re… you’re really pretty. Like… really, really pretty. Suguru, look… she’s glowin’.”
“Thank you, Toru,” you say, leaning down to kiss his cheek.
His eyes widened just slightly, more dazed than surprised. As your lips touched his cheek, he seemed to melt further into the chair, a soft, humming sound vibrating in his throat. He squeezed your hand with a grip that was surprisingly tight for someone who currently didn’t know where his own feet were.
“D’you hear that, Suguru?” Satoru slurs, his voice sounding like he’s speaking through a mouthful of marbles. He blinked slowly, his gaze drifting from you to Suguru. “She loves me. I’m… I’m the luckiest guy in the whole world. I’m gonna marry her. And you too. We’re all gonna… get a big house with a pool.”
Suguru let out a quiet chuckle, his eyes softening as he looked at the two of you. He reaches over and brushes a stray lock of white hair away from Satoru’s forehead, his touch steady and grounding.
“I think the anesthesia is talking now, Satoru,” Suguru murmurs, his voice calm and soothing, though there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “But I agree with you on the pool.”
“Satoru,” you say, amused, “who’s marrying who first?”
Satoru pauses, brow furrowing in an expression of intense concentration. He looked as if he was trying to solve the most complex mathematical equation in existence, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Suguru. The silence stretched for several seconds, punctured only by the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall.
“Wait…” he breathes, the word trailing off into a confused whine. He suddenly bolted upright—or tried to, resulting in a clumsy lurch that nearly sent him sliding off the chair. Suguru quickly caught him by the shoulder, steadying him with a small patient sigh.
“Me first!” Satoru declared with a sudden, misplaced confidence, though he immediately winced and clutched at his jaw, the excitement causing a sharp sting in his gums. He leaned his head heavily against Suguru’s shoulder, looking up at you with wide, glassy eyes. “No… wait. Together. A… a triple wedding! We’ll wear… matching capes. Suguru, we need capes. She’s gonna look like a queen.”
You pause, weighing the price of telling him. “You know polygamy is illegal, right?"
The word ‘illegal’ seems to hit Satoru like a physical blow. His expression shifts instantly from loopy confidence to utter devastation. His lower lip trembles, and his glassy eyes suddenly well up with oversized, dramatic tears that threaten to spill over his pale cheeks.
“Illegal…?” he whimpers, the word coming out as a heartbroken sob. He collapsed backward, dramatically flinging an arm over his forehead as if he were a tragic figure in a Victorian play. “You mean… I can’t have both of you? Forever?
A genuine, muffled wail escaped his throat, muffled by the gauze. He reached out both arms to you and Suguru, his voice trembling with an intensity that only high-grade anesthesia could provide. “I don’t care about the laws! I’ll fight the government! I’ll fight the whole world for you guys!”
Suguru blinked, startled by the sudden escalation. He looked at you with a dry, amused expression, though he quickly shifted to rub soothing circles into Satoru’s back. “Satoru, please, you’re going to make your stitches pop if you keep sobbing like that.”
“It’s ok, Toru,” you say gently, taking his hand. “We’re not going anywhere.”
The effect was instantaneous. Satoru stopped mid-sob, his breath hitching as he looked up at you. The devastation vanished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated adoration. He looked like a puppy that had just been told he was a 'good boy,' his eyes shimmering as he gazed at you with an intensity that would have been overwhelming if he weren't currently leaning precariously against a pillow.
"Really?" he whispered, his voice small and hopeful. He let out a long, shaky sigh of relief, his body finally relaxing back into the mattress. A goofy, lop-sided smile returned to his face. "You're... you're an angel.”
"See? Everything is fine," Suguru murmured, his voice a calm anchor in the room. "Now, why don't we focus on getting you home before you decide to start a revolution against the legal system?”
The door to the room creaked open, and a stern-looking nurse entered, clutching a clipboard. She wore a professional expression that suggested she had dealt with far too many dramatic patients in her career. She stepped toward the bed, her heels clicking on the floor as she began to read from the discharge papers.
"Alright, Mr. Gojo. You're cleared to go. Now, for the next forty-eight hours, you must avoid any straws, hard foods, or strenuous activity. You'll need to keep the area clean by rinsing gently with salt water, and if you experience any excessive bleeding—"
Satoru's head suddenly snapped toward her, his eyes widening. He completely ignored the medical instructions, his gaze fixing on the nurse's badge with an expression of profound curiosity. He slowly raised a hand, pointing a trembling finger toward her name tag.
"Wait..." he interrupted, his voice echoing through the room in a loud, dramatic stage-whisper. "Is your name... Mrs. Watanabe? You look exactly like a lady I knew in a dream. Do you... do you have a dog? I feel like you have a golden retriever. Tell me about the dog. This is very important for my recovery."
The nurse stopped mid-sentence, blinking in deadpan silence. Suguru closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against his palm, while the nurse simply stared at the white-haired boy with a look of utter exhaustion.
The nurse remained frozen for a moment, her gaze shifting from Satoru’s eager, dilated pupils to you and Suguru. She didn't look angry so much as she looked defeated, as if she had mentally checked out of the conversation. With a heavy sigh, she adjusted her glasses and looked back at her clipboard, completely bypassing the dog inquiry.
"I do not have a golden retriever, Mr. Gojo," she replied in a flat, clipped tone. "Now, as I was saying—no straws. If you create a vacuum in your mouth, you risk causing a dry socket, which is incredibly painful. Do you understand?"
Satoru looked genuinely wounded that she hadn't elaborated on her pet situation. He slumped back, pouting so hard that the gauze in his cheeks puffed out even further. He looked over at you, his eyes brimming with a sudden, dramatic urgency.
"She... she's mean," he whimpered, his voice sounding thick and muffled. "She's... she's a mean lady. Tell her... tell her to be nice to me. I'm a fragile flower right now."
Suguru let out a soft, strained sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. He gently placed a hand on Satoru's chest to keep him from flailing. "You are many things, Satoru, but 'fragile' has never been one of them. Please, just listen to the nurse so we can get you out of here before you try to adopt the hospital staff."
You pet his hair gently, "Let's play the quiet game, Toru. If you can be very quiet while the nurse talks, I'll let you pick out the ice cream flavor."
Satoru froze. The mention of ice cream acted like a magic switch, instantly overriding his desire to interrogate the nurse about her non-existent dog. He looked up at you, his eyes wide and shimmering, the promise of a frozen treat hanging in the air like a divine revelation.
With a look of extreme, strained determination, he snapped his mouth shut. He didn't just become quiet; he became unnervingly still, puffing out his cheeks and staring at the nurse with a focused intensity that was almost comical. He looked like a squirrel hoarding a nut for winter, his gaze darting occasionally to you to make sure the deal was still on.
The nurse blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sudden, heavy silence. She cleared her throat and continued, her voice regaining its rhythmic, clinical pace.
"Right. As I was saying... keep the surgical site clean, avoid hot liquids for twenty-four hours, and if you develop a fever, call the clinic immediately." She finished the paperwork with a swift scrawl of her pen and handed the folder to Suguru. "He's all set. Please make sure he actually follows these instructions."
Suguru took the folder, glancing down at Satoru, who was still vibrating with the effort of being 'quiet,' his face practically glowing with the anticipation of ice cream. Suguru leaned in, whispering just loud enough for the nurse to hear, "I'll do my best, though I suspect the 'quiet game' ends the moment we hit the parking lot."
Slowly, Suguru helps Satoru stand, though the taller man sways immediately. You reach out instinctively as if you could catch him if he started falling.
As Suguru eased him upward, Satoru's legs seemed to have forgotten their primary function. He rose in a jerky, uncoordinated motion, his center of gravity completely skewed by the lingering fog of the anesthesia. He swayed precariously to the left, his arms flailing slightly like a newborn giraffe trying to find its footing.
The moment he tilted, you were there, your hand sliding instinctively toward his waist to steady him. Satoru didn't just lean on you; he practically collapsed into your side, his heavy frame draping over you with a soft, contented sigh. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck, looking completely blissed out by the proximity.
"Whoaaaa," he breathed, the word trailing off into a hum. He felt like a giant, clumsy cat as he let his weight settle on you, his eyes half-closed. "The floor is... it's like a marshmallow. Everything is squishy."
Suguru caught Satoru's other side, sliding an arm around his waist to share the load. He gave you a grateful, slightly apologetic look, his calm expression softened by a hint of a smile. "Careful. He's a lot of dead weight when he's like this," Suguru noted, though he held Satoru close, ensuring the white-haired boy wouldn't actually tip over. "Ready to go, Satoru? Or are you planning on taking a nap right here in the hallway?”
Satoru let out a soft, protesting whine, his head rubbing against your shoulder as he clung to you and Suguru. He seemed completely indifferent to the fact that they were in a sterile hospital corridor; in his current state, the two of you were his entire world.
"No napping... only ice cream," he mumbled, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. He shifted his weight, nearly dragging you both a few inches to the side as he tried to peer at your face. "Do... do I still look pretty? My face feels... like a balloon. A big, sad, white balloon."
Suguru let out a quiet huff of air, his grip tightening slightly to keep Satoru upright. He looked over at you, his eyes glimmering with that familiar, indulgent warmth he reserved for the two of you. He seemed to be enjoying the absurdity of the moment, finding amusement in the vulnerability of the strongest sorcerer.
"You look perfectly fine, Satoru," Suguru reassured him, though the corner of his mouth quirked upward. He began to guide the trio slowly toward the exit, his pace measured to accommodate Satoru's unsteady steps. "Though if you keep complaining, I might decide that vanilla is the only flavor allowed today."
Satoru gasped, a muffled, dramatic sound, and gripped your hand tighter, looking at you with wide, pleading eyes as if begging for your protection against Suguru's perceived cruelty.
"So pretty, Satoru," you tell him. "A little swollen, but its ok."
Satoru beamed, a wide, lopsided grin that looked slightly painful but was filled with pure joy. He leaned even more heavily into you, closing his eyes as if your words were a soothing balm to his wounded pride. He let out a contented, humming sound, his head lolling back a bit as he looked up at the ceiling lights, which were likely swirling in his vision.
"See?" he slurred, directing his voice toward Suguru with a triumphant tone. "She says... I'm so pretty. I'm the prettiest balloon in the world."
Suguru sighed, though there was no real heat in it. He adjusted his grip on Satoru's waist, guiding the three of you through the sliding glass doors and into the warm afternoon air. The sudden change in temperature and light seemed to momentarily confuse Satoru; he blinked rapidly, his Six Eyes probably trying to process a million pieces of information at once while his brain was still half-asleep.
"I think the fresh air is making him more loopy," Suguru noted softly to you, his voice calm and steady. He looked over at you, his gaze lingering with a quiet affection. "Once we get him in the car, do you want to be the one to handle the ice cream shop, or should I? I have a feeling if he's the one ordering, we'll end up with five different tubs of the most expensive flavors they have."
"Doesn't matter to me," you say with a small smile. "Are we getting ice cream as well, or just the prince?"
Suguru paused, his gaze shifting from Satoru's dazed expression to yours. A slow, genuine smile spread across his lips—the kind of expression he only ever wore when the walls were down and it was just the three of you. He shifted his hold on Satoru, pulling the white-haired man slightly closer to his side in a protective, intimate gesture.
"Of course we are," Suguru murmured, his voice dropping to a warmer, more private register. "The prince gets his prize for winning the 'quiet game,' but the court certainly deserves a reward for managing him. Besides, I don't think I can handle his dramatic demands without some sugar of my own to keep me patient."
Satoru, hearing the words 'prize' and 'ice cream' again, suddenly perked up. He tried to point toward the parking lot, though his finger was off by several degrees, pointing more toward a nearby shrub than the car. He looked at you, his eyes swimming with a sudden, deep sentimentality.
"Wait..." Satoru whispered, his voice thick. He stopped walking entirely, causing both you and Suguru to jerk to a halt. He looked between you both, his face softening. "We're... we're like a little ice cream sandwich. Em's the cookie... Suguru's the cookie... and I'm the creamy middle. I'm the filling! I'm the most important part!"
Suguru and you both pause, staring at each other with raised eyebrows.
“That’s… yeah, ok,” you say, stifling a laugh.
Suguru let out a slow, controlled exhale, his eyebrows still arched high as he looked at you. There was a flicker of shared disbelief in his eyes, a silent communication that only the two of you could truly share while dealing with Satoru's antics. He looked back down at the white-haired man, who was currently wearing an expression of immense pride, convinced he had just delivered the most profound metaphor of the century.
"The creamy middle," Suguru repeated, his voice dry, though the tenderness in his eyes betrayed his amusement. "I'll be sure to remember that the next time you're complaining about your training schedule. You're just the filling, Satoru."
Satoru didn't seem to catch the sarcasm. Instead, he leaned his head back against Suguru's shoulder and looked up at you, his eyes fluttering. He looked utterly convinced of his own importance, a goofy, swollen smile plastered on his face.
"I'm delicious," he mumbled, his voice drifting as he started to lean more heavily on both of you again. "Can you... carry me to the car? I'm a very... heavy filling... but I'm worth it."
Suguru gave a small, huffing laugh and shifted Satoru's weight, guiding him forward once more. "Nice try, 'filling.' Keep walking, or the ice cream shop will close before you get your flavor."
۪ ⟣ ֹ ┄┄ 𝟅𝟈 ┄┄ ۫ ⟢
The transition from the car to the dorm room had been a slow, clumsy process, involving Satoru trying to "float" into the room and nearly taking out a lamp in the process. Once they finally managed to get him settled, Suguru practically dropped him onto the bed. Satoru sank into the mattress with a deep, dramatic sigh, his limbs sprawling out in every direction like a starfish.
He looked utterly exhausted now, the brief burst of energy from the "ice cream" motivation finally wearing off. His eyes were half-lidded, the brilliant blue of his Six Eyes clouded by a heavy, medicinal sleepiness. He reached out, blindly grasping for the two of you, his fingers catching the fabric of your clothes and Suguru's sleeve.
"Stay..." he whispered, the word barely audible, his voice sounding thick and tired. He managed to pull both of you slightly closer to the edge of the bed, his expression softening into something genuinely vulnerable. He didn't have the strength for grand declarations anymore; he just wanted the warmth of the two people he loved most.
Suguru stood by the bedside, his hand resting gently on Satoru's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He looked over at you, his eyes reflecting the soft light of the room. He looked tired, but there was a peaceful satisfaction in his gaze.
"I think he's finally crashing," Suguru murmured softly, a small smile playing on his lips. "We should probably get that ice cream before he wakes up and remembers he's hungry. Do you want to go grab it, or should we give him a few minutes of peace first?"
"I can," you say quietly, turning to leave the room.
Satoru’s hand tightened on your sleeve for a split second, his fingers curling into the fabric as he let out a long, pathetic whine. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated desperation, as if your departure for the ice cream shop was a betrayal of the highest order. He squinted up at you, his eyes pleading and glassy, trying to project a mental image of how much he'd miss you in the few minutes you'd be gone.
As you gently disentangled yourself, Suguru stepped in, his movements practiced and calm. He leaned over Satoru, his voice a steady, low hum as he reached for the fresh gauze. "Quiet now, Satoru. If you keep fighting me, you'll just make it bleed. Just relax."
Satoru let out another muffled groan, his head lolling to the side as Suguru carefully removed the blood-stained cotton. He looked like a disgruntled cat, blinking slowly and staring at the ceiling with a look of utter betrayal. He didn't fight Suguru—he was too tired for that—but he continued to make small, needy noises, his gaze drifting toward the door you had just exited.
Suguru looked up, catching your eye one last time before the door closed. He gave you a knowing, sympathetic look, as if to say 'good luck with the ice cream,' before focusing back on the task at hand. He pressed the new gauze into place with a gentle but firm finger, murmuring a soft "There we go," to the pouting, swollen man beneath him.
Upon re-entering the room, you found a surprising scene. Satoru hadn't fallen fast asleep; instead, he had shifted, his head now resting comfortably in Suguru's lap. Suguru was leaning back against the headboard, one hand absentmindedly stroking Satoru's white hair, the other holding a book that he clearly wasn't reading, his eyes fixed on the door the moment you entered.
"The savior returns," Suguru whispered, his voice low so as not to startle the half-conscious man. He looked at the bags in your hand and then down at Satoru, who reacted to the sound of the bags with a sudden, twitchy movement of his nose. Satoru's eyes cracked open, a sliver of blue peering through his lashes.
" 'S... ice... cream?" Satoru breathed, his voice sounding slightly clearer but still thick. He tried to lift his head, but the effort seemed too much, and he simply let out a needy, soft huff, staring at you with an expression of absolute longing.
Suguru took the treat and the spoon with a small, appreciative nod, his fingers brushing yours for a brief moment. He looked down at Satoru, who was now staring at the ice cream container with the intensity of a man who had found a lost treasure. Satoru's pupils were blown wide, his gaze tracking the movement of the tub as if he could somehow pull the frozen dessert toward him with his mind.
"Patience, Satoru," Suguru murmured, his voice a low, grounding rumble. He carefully scooped out a small, perfect portion of the cold treat. He didn't just hand it over; he brought the spoon to Satoru's lips, acting as the patient caretaker. "Open up. Slowly. Remember what the nurse said about not creating a vacuum."
Satoru didn't need to be told twice. He opened his mouth with an eager, clumsy anticipation, accepting the spoonful of ice cream with a look of pure euphoria. As the cold sweetness hit his tongue, his eyes drifted shut and he let out a long, shaky sigh of bliss. He looked like he was having a religious experience, his body relaxing completely back into Suguru's lap.
After a few seconds, he opened one eye and looked up at you, his voice muffled but sounding genuinely content. "Man... you're... the best. I'm gonna... marry you twice." He paused, then looked at Suguru. "And you too. Three times."
Suguru let out a quiet, melodic laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest where Satoru was resting. He shook his head, though the expression on his face was one of absolute tenderness. He scooped another small bit of ice cream, moving slowly to ensure Satoru didn't choke in his excitement.
"Three times, is it?" Suguru mused, his voice sounding like velvet in the quiet of the room. He glanced up at you, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I think we might have to negotiate the terms of these weddings once he's actually conscious. I'm not sure I can handle three versions of Satoru's wedding planning."
Satoru didn't seem to care about the logistics. He was too busy savoring the cold treat, his expression one of absolute, hazy devotion. He reached up with one clumsy hand, blindly searching for yours. When he found it, he didn't pull or tug; he simply rested his palm against yours, his skin warm compared to the chill of the dessert.
"S'not... planning," Satoru murmured, his voice getting softer as the sugar and the anesthesia combined to pull him back toward sleep. He shifted his head, rubbing his cheek against Suguru's leg in a slow, cat-like motion. "Just... us. In a big house... with a pool... and a tiny dog... that looks like a cloud."
He let out a small, content sigh, his grip on your hand loosening as his eyes began to flutter shut. The high energy from before had completely vanished, replaced by a deep, heavy drowsiness. He looked profoundly peaceful, the usual tension of being the 'strongest' completely erased, leaving behind only the vulnerable young man who loved the two of you more than anything else in the world.
You watch him fall asleep quietly, a smile and a small laugh escaping your lips. "He's so pretty," you murmur.
Suguru’s gaze didn't leave Satoru's face, his expression mirroring yours. He continued to stroke the white hair, his fingers moving in slow, rhythmic motions that seemed to lull Satoru deeper into his slumber. The sight of the arrogant, untouchable Satoru Gojo reduced to a snoring, ice-cream-smeared mess was a rare vulnerability that only the two of you were ever permitted to see.
"He is," Suguru whispered, his voice barely a breath. He looked up at you, the amber of his eyes glowing with a quiet, profound intensity. The air in the room felt thick with a comfortable, domestic sort of love, a stark contrast to the violence and duty that usually defined their lives as sorcerers.
He shifted slightly, leaning toward you and catching your hand in his. He pressed a lingering, tender kiss to your knuckles, his thumb grazing your skin. He didn't say anything more for a moment, simply soaking in the silence and the warmth of the two people who anchored him to the world.
"I think we're the lucky ones, Em," he added softly, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips as he glanced back down at their sleeping 'filling.' "Even if he is a complete disaster when he's medicated."
The room settled into a quiet stillness, broken only by Satoru’s soft, even breathing.
Suguru’s fingers continued their slow path through his hair, unhurried, familiar. Your hand remained loosely held in Satoru’s, his grip slack with sleep but still there—astill reaching, even now.
The melted edge of the ice cream sat forgotten on the bedside table.
For once, there were no missions waiting. No urgency. No weight pressing down on any of you.
Just this.
Suguru glanced at you, and you smiled—small, knowing.
And in the quiet, with Satoru warm between you, it was enough.