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Strawberry milk & whiskey

Chapter Text

Kento was in the middle of pulling a carton of strawberry milk off the shelf when he realized that something was terribly wrong. Glancing down, he dragged his eyes over the items that were already in his shopping basket. There were the Choco pies that Satoru microwaved until the marshmallow oozed out, the Melona ice cream bars that left Satoru’s tongue icy, the egg roll cookies that meant an extra half hour of vacuuming crumbs out of his carpet, the pudding cups that Satoru devoured in a single gulp, as if that was something impressive rather than disgusting…

The sheer amount of sugar was enough to give Kento a headache, but he was distracted by a more pressing question - why the hell was he grocery shopping for Satoru? It wasn’t like they lived together. In fact, the past week had been blessedly quiet, with Satoru gone on an overseas mission and not scheduled to return until later today. Sure, Satoru had stayed over the nights prior to that, but those had just been one-night stands. Consecutive one-night stands. Many of them.

He was in the middle of unloading his purchases into the fridge when the door slammed open, and a heavy weight dropped onto his shoulders.

“Kento,” a voice purred into his ear, “Did you miss me?”

Kento tried unsuccessfully to shrug him off, but it was like shaking off a leech. “Please open the door more gently, or not at all.”

“Awww, I missed you too,” Satoru answered, with his usual disregard for Kento’s words, leaning past him to peer into the fridge. “Hey, it’s my favorite brand of strawberry milk!”

Kento was freed as the gangly limbed sorcerer bustled around the kitchen, pouring himself a tall glass of milk and setting a tumbler of whisky in front of Kento. Kento raised an eyebrow.

“You’re more pliant when tipsy,” Satoru explained.

“Hmph,” Kento said, taking a sip.

Satoru drained half his glass in one gulp and let out a deep exhale.

“You seem tired,” Kento observed. “When are you heading home?”

“I just got home,” Satoru said, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“You have your own apartment,” Kento said.

“I don’t, actually.”

“What?”

“I moved in here months ago, didn’t you notice?”

Kento choked on his drink. Satoru patted him on the back as he recovered.

“Just kidding,” he said. “But it’s true that I hardly spend any time at my place in between missions and gracing you with my presence.”

“In that case, I’d like to get out of your good graces.”

“Don’t lie, Kento, it sets a bad example for the students.” The hypocrisy left Kento speechless. Satoru took advantage of his silence to plough on. “I’d like to live with you. What do you say?”

Kento had just regained his composure, and he wasn’t about to lose it now, even if Satoru had decided to be devastatingly direct. “What’s wrong with our current arrangement?”

“You haven’t even given me a key! Of course I don’t really need a key, but when I use my god-given talents, you kick up a fuss about irresponsible use of power and breaking and entering is a crime .”

It was only natural to admonish someone who broke into your lodgings, even if you weren’t necessarily displeased to see them. But he supposed there was an element of truth to Satoru’s complaints.

“Fine, I’ll give you a key.”

“No need, I have one already,” Satoru said, fishing out a replica of Kento’s house key that Kento had never seen before.

“You - ”

“What are you mad about? You just said it was fine. I’m saving you the trouble of having to duplicate your key. If anything, you should be thanking me right now.”

“Get out.”

“You can’t kick me out, I live here.”

Kento fantasized about dragging him out by the collar and bolting the deadlock behind him. Unfortunately, he knew better than anyone that escaping Gojo Satoru was impossible. He downed the rest of the whiskey and set his glass down with a clunk.

“You’ll pay your share of the rent. And do your share of the chores. And give me quiet when I ask for it.”

“Of course,” Satoru agreed. It was clear that he had no intention of following through.

Kento groaned, massaging his temple. “I don’t know why I love you,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he snapped.