Chapter Text
The shoji door glides shut, alerting Gojo of Geto’s incoming presence from behind.
Geto joins him on the floor of the engawa, resting his feet against the grassy courtyard. Their view of the moon is left unobscured from the lack of plants. Gojo leans into him instinctively, and Geto rests his head on his shoulder. Still in their cultural clothing, their yukatas weave into one underneath their joined hands.
The festival had drained them of most of their energy. More specifically, the children and their constant habit of getting lost in the crowd, lead astray by anything that caught their curious eyes-- Nanako being the worst offender. It was worth it, though. Pictures and videos now fill their phones with snapshots of joy; fireworks across starry eyes, small mouths stuffed with street food. Undoubtedly, they’d do it again.
“Took you long enough,” Gojo muses, voice quiet. “Tsumiki, Megumi and Mimiko were out like a light, even before we tucked them in.”
Geto sighs, exasperated. “I thought that the fireworks and all that running around would wear Nanako out, but no, apparently not. I say we bring leashes next time. For all of them.”
“Even me?”
“Especially you, Satoru.”
Gojo chuckles into his hair. “There’s no need. Even when the streets are crowded I have my six eyes to keep track of everyone, and the kids can’t go far with their short legs. Unless you can’t keep up, old man?”
“Of course I can,” Geto says instantly. “And we’re the same age. I should be calling you the old man, with your white hair.”
“It’s all natural, love. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I...” Geto shifts closer, seeking further warmth. “...Nevermind. I’m just worn out. Maybe it’s the summer heat.”
“Are you still thinking about the fact that we lost them earlier?”
“I’m fine now, it’s not bothering me anymore.” His tone indicates finality.
Sensing his lingering traces of vulnerability, Gojo presses a kiss to the crown of Geto’s head whilst a hand strokes his hair. “Don’t worry about it. Both of us are here in case something happens,” Gojo says.
They fall into a comfortable silence. Reality seems hazy, in this dreamscape they’ve landed in. Like it’s just the two of them out here, whilst the rest of the world is dormant.
It’s with the same vulnerability that Geto trusted him with, that Gojo says softly:
“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it, Suguru?”
Geto’s groan comes out muffled. “Ugh. You sound like one of Mimiko’s and Tsumiki’s historical romance dramas.”
“It’s a romantic night.” Gojo only half-shrugs so that he doesn’t push him away. “Two lovers in traditional clothing, facing the moon whilst everyone else is asleep. It’s kinda sexy, like we’re having a tryst.”
He grins when Geto’s breath hitches. Fingers sharply pinch Gojo’s thigh, and he yelps.
“Lovers,” Geto echoes, something akin to consideration permeating his words. "Shouldn’t we be more intimate, to really play the part of lovers?” He places a thumb on Gojo’s knuckles, stroking faintly.
Gojo nearly fans himself with his sleeve. “This is exactly what I meant by historical romance dramas. Love triangles and affairs are always a part of the plot. You could probably be in one with your looks.”
“That would make you my secret suitor,” Geto says slyly. “Or maybe not, since I’m still waiting for you to sweep me off my feet, dearest.”
Overcome with restlessness, Gojo stands and turns to face him. The sight he’s met with is enough to shove the comeback down back his throat, leaving him speechless.
Geto’s yukata has been pulled apart at the chest to show a wink of skin. His gaze is unwavering, half lidded and framed by dark hair let loose from his usual half-bun. He’s leaning back on his forearms as he regards him through dark lashes, baring his neck like an invitation. The long silhouette of his body is outlined by the moon, swathed in fine fabrics, and oh. If the summer heat doesn’t burn Gojo, then his lover certainly will.
“You were saying, Satoru?” comes the languid question.
Gojo wets his mouth. He grins and flourishes a hand. “Dance with me, Suguru.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
He rolls his eyes to the side, twisting his face as he plays along. “Then don’t. I’ll die a lonely man, death by heartbreak, blah blah blah.”
A warm hand lands in his, and Geto’s eyes crinkle at his surprise. Gojo’s face lights up like a firework as he pulls him close by the waist.
“I was joking,” Geto says. He circles his arms around his neck.
“So was I.”
Gojo places his hands on Geto’s hips, swaying on his feet as he speaks. They take small steps, rotating in a circle. It’s more of a rocking embrace than a dance. Like a ship on gentle waves.
“Obviously. There’s no way I’m becoming a single parent.”
“That’d never happen. No one can defeat me, Suguru. Not even you.”
In response, Geto dips him.
Both his hands fly towards Geto’s shoulders. Gojo swears and flails momentarily, even with an arm securing his weight via his lower back. He stays there, suspended, whilst Geto sneers.
“You good down there, mister strongest shaman?”
He pushes his glasses up and glares. “Fucking flirt.”
“You like me this way.”
Geto assists Gojo to stand up straight, immediately spinning him once, before dipping him again.
Or rather, he tries to, but Gojo’s quicker.
He forcefully takes the lead after that with rapid steps in any direction he pleases. Their hands are joined now, Gojo has a hold of his waist whereas Geto grips his shoulder. It’s less of a partnered dance and more of a fight for dominance, and it suits them just fine. They wouldn’t have it any other way.
Narrowing his gaze, Geto uses sheer experience to keep up with his pace. Dark strands fall into his face as they sweep across the large courtyard. If a spike of cursed energy emits from their haste, no one says a word. They only spin and step, spin and step, until the world around them blurs into one, the sky, earth and house blending together so that they may as well be dancing in a bubble, forever spirited away. Tunnel vision at it’s finest.
Time goes wonky inside Gojo’s head. The sun could set, and he wonders if his body would stop at all, and he wouldn’t. Not when Geto is in front of him, resembling some sort of poetry made flesh.
He thinks it’ll never end until it does. It ends with the two of them wrapped around each other, puffing out laboured breaths as they transition back to stillness.
They stop moving entirely now. Delirium clouds Gojo’s vision. Geto being the only focused point in his haze.
They don’t need a sign from the universe to do what they do next. Their mouths meet. Stardust bursts beneath his eyelids. Gojo nips Geto’s jaw. The latter gasps and chases his lips again, and they clash like meteors guided by gravity. He hopes to feel their souls collide with every kiss. They press closer, closer, closer. Their breaths mingle, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough.
He pushes Geto’s hair away from his forehead and his hand comes back damp. He wraps a dark strand around his finger, tugging lightly.
“Hey, Suguru?” Gojo pulls away, breathless.
Geto kisses him again before answering, “Yeah?”
“Let me take you to the moon.” a lust-driven promise. Thrown into the wind without thought.
Geto takes his time, mapping constellations over Gojo’s face and neck, teeth and tongue as his only guide. He smirks against his jaw.
“Again with your moon pick up lines. There are better ways to flirt.”
Gojo clears his throat whilst his cheeks burn with heat.
“You trust me, right?” he asks softly.
“You already know the answer to that. Yes, Satoru, more than anyone.”
“Then hold on tight.”
He follows his instructions accordingly.
And then, they were flying.
Propelling upwards until they’re well above the house, hanging in space with no intention of going down. The landscape looks immeasurable from this far up, stretching onwards for miles and miles, as far as the Six Eyes can see. The sky lies there, limitless, no different than Geto’s hair, so that he may as well be a deity of the night. Midnight at his disposal. Wearing the darkness like a crown. A tale worth telling. A man worth worshipping.
“Holy shit! Satoru, what the fuck. This is-- at least give me a fucking warning!”
Geto kicks his legs and holds him like a lifeline, pressing his face tightly into Gojo’s neck.
Gojo throws his head back and laughs into the night, still floating, still invincible. He defies gravity like it’s his birthright. Does so with the ease of a creature born to soar.
“You’ve flown before, Suguru. I don’t get why you’re so surprised.”
“You gave me a warning beforehand and you went slowly. You didn’t blast off like a rocket! I will staple your ass to the ground once we’re back down.”
“Aww, who says we’re going back? I said I’d take you to the moon. Maybe we can visit the other planets too! I wonder what souvenirs we can get for the kids…”
“You ass,” Geto groans. He lifts his head from Gojo’s neck to feel the breeze on his face, cool and crisp to ease the reddening.
“My ass is great and all, but at least focus on the view from up here,” Gojo says, amused.
Geto squints at the sky above them. “The view’s beautiful,” he admits. “The darkness makes it difficult to see, but it’s beautiful.”
“You know what would really seal the deal?”
“What.”
Gojo begins to detach Geto’s arms around him.
“Wait-- Satoru! what’re you--”
“Dancing!” Gojo says. “Properly, this time. Like they do in ballrooms!”
He maneuvers Geto’s hands so that one joins his own hand, whilst the other grips his waist. They sail in a circle, two planets in orbit. Always touching, always drawn to one another.
“We can go as slowly as you want,” Gojo promises. “I won’t let you go even if you ask me to.”
Geto sighs, relaxing his shoulders. They begin falling into a routine once again, dancing to the sound of heartbeats, with the solar system as their only audience.
“See? This isn’t so bad’,” Gojo remarks.
Geto hums in agreement with a smile of his own. He could belong there among other celestial bodies, and he must think the same of Gojo too, judging by the way he cradles him like something cosmic.
The warmth inside Gojo’s chest has spread throughout every inch that his body has to offer. It makes his toes curl. Makes him want to do the cheesiest shit he can think of.
He clears his throat, and allows the words to flow out of his mouth like a serenade.
”Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars…”
Whilst Gojo sings, Geto beams until his eyes resemble crescent moons. His lips are tightly pressed together like he’s holding in a laugh.
It fills Gojo with so much pure, unaltered elation, that he forgets to sing. Of all his godly gifts, he has nothing to offer right now but his heart, body, mind and soul, to the man that holds half of all the aforementioned.
He’s rendered mortal. And of course it’s his Suguru that causes him to realise it. Even though it’s obvious. He has the power to defy gravity and any other law this universe has, yet he stays tethered to earth like it holds something precious, because it does.
Olympus could offer him a throne of gilded gold, and the river Styx at his feet. But it wouldn’t be quite the same as the couches back home, where his loved ones can be found. Immortality means nothing to him if being mortal means waking up next to Geto and eating at the dining table, surrounded by their family.
Gratitude is all he feels when Geto shakes him out of his thoughts with a gentle voice.
“Satoru? Are you done now? You look like you’re falling asleep. If you drop us, I’ll kill you.”
“I’m good,” Gojo says. He casts his sentiments to the side, diving in for another kiss.
Their chests press together. The combined sound of heartbeats could deafen even a supernova.
Once again, their dancing ceases to continue. But Gojo finds that he doesn’t mind. With Suguru in his arms and against his mouth, he feels as if he could transcend time and space itself, just to stay in that moment amongst the stars.
Geto hums and breaks away to sag against him tiredly.
“Satoru, let’s go home now,” he yawns. “We still have to wake up to make the kids breakfast.”
“Your wish is my command.” Gojo presses a kiss to his forehead, before lifting him into a bridal carry. “Get some rest. I’ll bring us home."
He glides down to the earth, and takes a moment to look up before fully parting with the heavens beyond.
For the final time that night, they are reduced to lovers by the moon. Two souls bleeding into one.