Chapter Text
The knock at the door should surprise Nanami. He's not expecting company and doesn't have any deliveries due today. Instead of surprise, he stands with a tired sort of resignation – a modicum of improvement over the dread that's been bubbling within him for much of the last few hours.
He can't be surprised because it's a known fact that Gojo Satoru does not forget. Especially when a prime opportunity to tease presents itself. Still, even after shuffling to the front door, Nanami stands there, leaning his forehead against the wood for a brief moment of grounding before the rest of his evening is given up to Gojo's whims.
"I know you're there, Nanami-kun."
Nanami sighs, straightening up to unhook the latch and pull the door open just a smidgen before turning and heading back toward the lounge. There's an indignant huff from behind but Gojo manages the arduous task of opening the door the rest of the way and the sound of it clicking shut cements his presence.
By the time Gojo's followed him — having taken off his shoes — Nanami's already reassumed his position on the couch, a pillow at his back to ease the aches of the day's mission which set in after Shoko's treatment.
"I hate to break it to you but whatever the curse did has already worn off," Nanami says, not looking up from the show he's pretending to watch. It's all white noise to him, pixels that fuzz out with every step Gojo takes into the room, until he's stood beside the couch and looming over him.
"I know that. I've just come to monitor you."
"If I needed monitoring Shoko-san would have kept me at school."
Gojo holds both his hands up in mock surrender. The warm lamps soften him even with the sardonic gesture. "Alright, you've caught me. But I've prepared too much to be turned away now."
Nanami shifts, tired of tilting his head back just to meet Gojo's blindfold clad gaze. "What could you have possibly prepared?" As if he's been waiting for this exactly question, Gojo reaches into his pocket with precise confidence, rummaging through all the junk which he lets accumulate between washes. He pulls out a scrap of paper, folded half a dozen times judging by the size.
"My list."
"Your list," Nanami parrots deadpan, finally finding a slight reprieve from his neck pain when Gojo moves to sit beside him, a little self-satisfied lift to his cheeks.
"I told you I'd write one." Gojo makes a show out of unfolding the paper, shaking out the creases as best he can. "But truth or dare isn't so fun with only two people so we can forgo the dares entirely. That sound good to you?"
"No." Nanami looks back toward the TV, ignores the melodramatic gasp that Gojo lets out, as if he's stunned by his (forced) nonchalance. There's warmth at Nanami's side when Gojo presses in closer, needling at the part of him which holds onto his feelings with a tight leash.
"I mean, if you want to include dares, I won't stop you."
"No to all of it," Nanami clarifies, even though he knows that Gojo is well aware of what he means.
"But Nanami," Gojo whines, dragging out the syllables of his name, making them sound like something with staying power. "You haven't heard me out yet." Then Nanami's arm is being tugged at, turning him to face Gojo, who has an almost impressive pout on his face for someone in his twenties. "If you don't want to answer a question, you just take a shot. We get three questions each but you can only take a shot for one question so choose carefully. I have more to lose here since you know alcohol messes with my technique. And it tastes like shit."
"A shot?" Nanami processes this, the seconds elapsing while Gojo seems to grow bigger with his hope. "If I say no, will you go?"
Gojo scratches at his chin, the same sort of contemplation he gives to lesson plans for the kids. "I mean, I won't force you to play with me but since I'm already here we could watch a movie." Then the thoughtful downturn of his lips stretches into a smile which can only be described as sly. "Has Yuuji ever mentioned the Human Earthworm series to you?"
He has actually. Nanami once spent an entire car journey listening to Yuuji explain the geopolitical significance of the Human Earthworm sequel. He groans, rubbing at his eyelids. "Okay, let's play. Wait here." He leaves the room to the sound of Gojo's muted cheering, clearly pleased at his strategy working.
This isn't a good idea, Nanami laments while he digs around in a cupboard for something strong enough to at least make it worthwhile if Gojo takes a shot. A passive aggressive sort of punishment which he already knows will never come to fruition since Gojo is shameless and wouldn't skip any question no matter how scandalous. He grasps a bottle of whiskey and decides that this is good enough. The man's tolerance has never been good for anything but sugar and poison.
Bundled with two shot glasses which have never been used and the bottle of whiskey, he shuffles back into the lounge. Gojo's not bothered to put his blindfold back on, the material tossed across the coffee table. He has a look of intense concentration on his face as he stares at the list he's made, chewing his tongue like gum. Nanami's distracted by this when he realises Gojo's taken off his jacket too, his compression top showing off the slope of his biceps, the flat planes of his stomach. He clears his throat just for something to do, a pit in his chest that becomes larger with every second he stares.
"Who's going first?" Nanami asks, dumping his supplies on the table with a clatter. This pulls Gojo out of whatever musings he's having and he points.
"I thought I'd be chivalrous and let you ask first."
"Ah," Nanami replies dryly, sitting down again. "There's nothing more chivalrous than bombarding into someone else's home uninvited."
Gojo only waves this away as if it's only a mild nuisance and not a valid critcism. "Considering all the years we've known each other, there should be a standing invite for these kinds of things." He looks at Nanami through his thick snowy lashes, his frostburn eyes glittering with anticipation that he's doesn't bother concealing. "Ask your question."
Nanami swallows around nothing, caught off-guard by how Gojo can still make his stomach flutter simply by looking at him, his gaze like a physical thing – and perhaps it is, the limits of the Six Eyes always seeming to stretch further than anyone knows. He speaks without thinking, trying for a distraction from those eyes. "How was your day?"
The chortle from Gojo would be better suited to that of someone in the audience for a stand-up routine, rather than sat in the quiet of Nanami's apartment. He doesn't hold back either, never has really, his eyes creasing while he bares his teeth. "Really? That's your question?" Gojo plants both hands on his knees, face coloured with warmth from his laughter, more full of life than he has been all day.
Nanami scowls, a tinge of embarrassment beneath it. "I didn't make a list did I?"
"You were always bad at these sorts of games when we were students." Gojo leans away, resting his head on the back of the couch to face the ceiling, the long line of his neck on his show, leading down to broad shoulders which are hidden most of the time. "It was fine. The kids were pestering me before you came so I guess I can say you did me a favour by coming in all strange and cursed." Gojo throws him a side-glance, made more sharp by the angle at which he's looking at him. "My mission took longer than it should have."
"Oh? Why was that?" Nanami should probably feel a bit pleased at Gojo being not totally perfect and being open about this fact but he's just a bit baffled. There's been no word of any difficult Special Grades recently. He appraises Gojo openly, looking for any sign of an impossible injury but he's as untouched as always.
"It was hard to concentrate and the curse almost slipped away," Gojo admits, as close to sheepish as he can get. "I stopped getting distracted when Ieiri threatened to block my number."
"I don't quite follow what you mean."
Gojo lifts his head just a little, pinning Nanami with an incredulous look. "Well, I had to check up on my kouhai, duh. You were practically on the verge of passing out when I left."
"I was not," Nanami protests, folding his arms like being petulant will help his case.
"Yeah, yeah. It's my turn now." Gojo sits up properly, double-checking his list and reading very deliberately. "What's the worst date you've been on?"
Nanami blanches, realising that no matter the comfort of downing a shot as a last resort, the questions are most likely going to worsen as they go along. If he uses this logic, then the option of taking a shot would be best applied to whatever Gojo's asks third. He flicks away imaginary lint from his leg, biding time. "And that question is meant to be better than mine?"
"I got it from Google."
"Google," Nanami deadpans.
"From the Cosmopolitan website to be exact." The smug little smile Gojo's sporting relays just how pleased he is about this. Nanami grinds his teeth, eyeing his little whiskey shot before rubbing at his temple for a rough moment. He makes a decision.
"It was early on in my career as a stockbroker. One of the bosses was a right stalwart, the traditional type who'd come from nothing and worked his way up." Nanami feels his eyes cross a bit while he recalls the memory. It's been years since he's reminisced. "It turned out that he had a daughter a little older than me. She must have seen me at a function and taken a liking as he explained it at the time. I took her on a date and she was lovely but I didn't feel anything and I felt like I was using her just to gain a better position at work." It's sort of a weight off Nanami's shoulders to share this tidbit which he's never discussed with anyone, too ashamed of the sort of person he'd considered becoming back then. He chances a look at Gojo, trying not to twiddle his thumbs while doing so, and is met with astoundingly bright eyes.
"That's your worst date? I was hoping that you'd puked on someone but you just kept to your morals. That's consistent at least."
"She was clearly hoping for a real connection. I wasn't there with the right intentions."
"You did the right thing didn't you?" Gojo jabs at him, gentle enough that Nanami's arm only stings slightly. "It's not like you continued to date under false pretences. One date doesn't make you evil. Besides, it would have made your work life considerably easier to be related to someone high up. Anyone would be tempted."
Nanami juts his chin out, defiant for some reason, unable to be absolved so quick. "Even you?"
"Especially me, probably." Gojo smiles. "I would have asked something more incriminating if I'd known your dating history was so vanilla."
"Why do you enjoy teasing me so much?" Nanami asks, exasperated enough for his hands to bunch up into fists, the threat of Ratio shimmering between them before dying out with a concerted exhale, his shoulders relaxing.
Gojo peers at him, probably tracking the flow of his curse energy. "Is that your second question?"
Really, Nanami should be posing something guaranteed to embarrass Gojo, to push a boundary somehow. But the idea of discussing his past relationships sounds more torturous than amusing. He nods, his tongue thick with reproach while he tries not to think of this as missing out on an opportunity.
"I like seeing what expressions I can pull out of you," Gojo says, simply.
"That's it?"
"Yeah, it's like a fun game. When your eyebrows raise, it means I've somehow managed to surprise you. If you wrinkle your nose, you're very unamused. The clench of your jaw warns me to back off." Gojo takes the time to illustrates the distinction between these expression on his own face, lifting a finger to pull at his brows in a pantomime that Nanami can't look away from. He should look ridiculous but everything seems effortless when you're a step away from seraphimic. "It used to be hard to figure out but you've gotten worse over the years at keeping your feelings to yourself."
Nanami blinks. He knows this to be a lie. If he were really so bad at concealing his emotions then Gojo would have found out the truth long ago. "There's a lot that you don't see."
"Not even with my Six Eyes?" Gojo says, amusement obvious, like Nanami is missing out on a joke.
"Not even with all eight of them."
Gojo snorts, a delayed reaction that makes Nanami certain he's being excluded from something important. "It's my turn now." He folds his arms, mirroring Nanami, though the effect is markedly different, emphasising the lean cut of his body. "When was the last time you had outdoor sex?"
If Nanami had been sipping on a drink, now would be a good time to do a spit take. As it stands, he splutters, his shock causing his system to short out before he steels himself with indignation. "What?"
"You heard me. If you don't want to answer, there's always the whiskey." Nanami pauses in his internal spiral, noting the lilt of Gojo's voice. It must be a trick. Gojo wants him to take the shot now, so he's asking something which he knows will prod at Nanami's sensibilities, watching Nanami with careful eyes in await of a surrender which he refuses to give to him.
"Fine." And there's a flicker of something in Gojo's demeanour now, slumping while he's wracked by what? Disappointment?
Maybe even panic?
That's strange. Gojo doesn't panic.
"As ridiculous as this is, I'm an adult and can answer." Even as Nanami makes this assertion, a jittery sense of regret crawls up his spine, hot and heavy as he recalls a tryst from several months back. "I don't understand why these are the sort of questions you insist on though."
"Isn't my curiosity enough?"
"Four months, give or take a few weeks."
"What?" Gojo's little smirk fluctuates, disappearing entirely once the words sink into the air.
"My answer is four months." Nanami somehow manages to keep his voice level, all that time spent presenting in boardrooms finally coming in handy.
Gojo laughs, short enough that it resembles a bark of pain more than anything else, his eyes wide as they appraise Nanami. "I was expecting you to say ten years. Who the hell did you sleep with outside four months ago?" He slinks closer, like proximity will give him the answer. The scent of jasmine grows stronger. Nanami refuses to be lulled by it.
"You've already asked your question," he points out.
"But is it someone I know?"
Nanami groans, tempted to stand and call whatever this is off. "No, it's not." It's bad enough having to remember the rendezvous inside the back of a cramped Toyota, limbs seizing up all because Nanami's date was too drunk to drive home and Nanami himself was too horny to think past the immediacy of the moment.
Gojo frowns, serious all of a sudden. "You're not in a relationship, are you? I'd be disappointed if my favourite kouhai was keeping something like that a secret."
"I wouldn't be able to keep a relationship secret with how nosy you are." The show on TV cuts to commercials, a familiar jingle ringing out. Nanami watches the flash of colours, mustering up the energy to speak. He keeps his face turned toward the sparks of red and blue, rigid posture belying his nerves. "Earlier, before Shoko-san came, why didn't you ask me any questions? It's not like you do miss a chance like that. I mean, here you are asking all sorts of questions which you've would have gotten a surefire answer to when I was cursed."
He spies the way Gojo shrugs in his peripheral, reticent now. "It would have been strange to find things out about you when you weren't in your right mind. And I'm not in the business of making people uncomfortable on purpose, no matter how nosy I am."
"I'll have to thank you then. I appreciate it."
"Nanami-kun, could you look at me?" Gojo asks, his voice three different shades of soft. If Nanami was stubborn, he'd continue staring sightlessly at the television. But he melts at this softness, moving slow to meet the request. "You don't have to thank me. I have the final question for you and then you can kick me out if you want. Okay?"
"I don't kick out guests," Nanami says, smiling slightly, eased into complacency by how much he doesn't hate the game. "Ask away."
He's unprepared though.
"Since when have you liked me?" Gojo pauses, seeming to rethink something. "Romantically, I mean."
Nanami gawps, his gaze flickering over to the coffee table but just as soon as he reaches out, Gojo's already placed his hand flat against the rim of the little shot glasses, shielding them from view. "This question is exempt from the alcohol clause," he says, and though it seems like a joke, he's not smiling, his lips pressed into a colourless line.
"That's not fair," Nanami says, wavering in spite of himself. "You should at least stick to the rules you made."
"Answer the question."
"Why?" Nanami is a little desperate now, a little panicked too. He tries to think back to what must have given his feelings away – all the times he couldn't help himself from wanting more like a damn fool. Gojo must sense his impending need to flee the scene because he draws closer, ensuring that Nanami doesn't break eye contact, that endless pool of blue on show. The part of it which holds his technique has the ability to be oppressive but the part which is wholly Satoru manages to be reassuring in its own way.
"It's a simple question. The why doesn't matter."
"If this is some sort of way to make fun of me–"
"It's not that at all." Gojo frowns, not harsh exactly but certainly firmer. "Give me some credit at least."
Nanami looks for dishonesty, finds none of it. "Then what is it?"
"I'm just trying to figure out which of us fell first." For the second time today, something resembling a blush dapples Gojo's collarbones and Nanami knows what he's heard but it doesn't make sense somehow, like this is still a dream, induced by the curse too late.
"I don't– I don't understand what you mean."
With a quickness which would make Nanami flinch if not for his training, Gojo surges forward, clasping both of Nanami's hands within his own. He's very, very close. Close enough that the tremble of his body can't be concealed. "I don't need a truth curse to tell you how I feel. I like you a lot Nanami. And today made me realise that maybe I'm not alone in this. Do you like me?"
Nanami is certain this is reality, if only because no curse could ever recreate Gojo to this degree, his lips plump with gloss, tender under all that power. "I want to hear you say it out of your own will, without the influence of anything else." Gojo ducks his head down just so they're on the same level, one hand raised slowly to cup his jaw. "Please," he says. When it comes from Gojo, it doesn't sound like begging – it sounds like heaven taking form in a single corporeal body. And how can Nanami deny the touch of heaven?
"I like you too," he breathes out. A simple answer for a simple question maybe. But there's a thousand different instances held within this simple answer, every moment he's looked at Gojo and fallen just a little deeper. Like doesn't encapsulate the depth of what Nanami means. But that's fine. Nanami can work up the courage to get to the word love.
Gojo doesn't miss a beat. "Truth or dare."
Even at a time like this Gojo continues to be unpredictable. "What?"
"Truth or dare," Gojo repeats, squeezing Nanami's hand on dare, while sparkling with the sort of mischievous joy that's hard to berate. So, Nanami doesn't. He just gives in.
"Dare." Nanami squeezes back. "I pick dare."
In the warmth of his lounge, in the security of the little bubble they've made, Gojo whispers like they're in a crowded room. "I dare you to kiss me."
It's so utterly him that Nanami has to fight the urge to roll his eyes, settling for a light scoff. He presses forward, Gojo's eyes falling shut in anticipation. And he brushes his lips against a blush-happy cheek, as chaste as can be.
"Take me on a date first," Nanami whispers back, his heart pounding in his chest.
"I can do that." Gojo tilts his head, determination lining every angle of his body.
For the first time in his life, Nanami is grateful for a curse.
BONUS
"Did you actually write that down?" Nanami asks, lifting his head from Gojo's shoulder to peek at the paper which is still in his lap. The brash scenes of Human Earthworm are bad enough that he'd welcome any distraction.
"Of course. Imagine I ended up forgetting what I wanted to say."
"You never forget anything." Nanami picks the paper up, unfolding it carefully before scanning through an increasingly sexual lineup of questions while wrinkling his nose. Gojo had been going easy on him, it seems. He stops at the very end, unable to stop his smile at the one cursive line, underlined three times for good measure.
Do you like me the way I like you?
"Is it cute enough for a proper kiss?" Gojo asks, testing his luck from where he's smushed against Nanami's side. Nanami studies his face, all that beauty that could only belong to one person, ill-fitting on the rest of them. And he throws a cushion at him.
"Don't be greedy."
"You're lucky Infinity isn't running," Gojo says, pulling Nanami back toward him to watch the movie.
Nanami supposes he is, hiding his smile in his sleeve.