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Megumi likes to think of himself as a good person.
He really does. He’s got his morals and he sticks to them, no matter what anyone else thinks. He tips well at restaurants and he looks both ways when he crosses the street.
And yet he looks down at the poor, sick chihuahua who he’s seen twice in the last month, he isn’t really sure he can be.
The poor old woman wrung her hands together, staring at Buster, who shook on the exam table. It would probably be best to keep him overnight, so that Megumi could observe him.
“Mrs. Daniels,” Megumi says slowly, “we’ve talked about this.”
He went through four years of school to become a vet, and nothing really prepared him for dealing with pet owners who outright neglected or abused their pets.
Kuro and Shiro are waiting for him at home, Megumi can’t imagine giving either of them chocolate, no matter how much they begged for it.
And boy, did they beg.
“I know, dear, but he loves it! How can I say no to that cute little face?” Mrs. Daniels wails.
She’s horribly wrong, but at least she worries. Megumi’s seen several pet owners who really couldn’t care less about the pets they agreed to look after.
“I know, Mrs. Daniels, but dogs can’t have chocolate. If you keep doing this, he might not recover.” Megumi pets Buster as he talks, not wanting to think about that.
It hurts him, every time he loses an animal. Megumi feels it in his heart like he feels the pain and injury in each of his patients when they come through.
“Oh, he just begs so cutely, I can’t deny him,” Mrs. Daniels says. “How can you deny that face?”
Megumi shakes his head, trying his best not to sigh. Buster is cute, but so are Kuro and Shiro when they beg and Megumi can always deny them treats that would harm them.
“I’ll have to keep him overnight, to make sure he’s recovering. I’ll let you know when you can come pick him up.”
At least he can make sure Buster’s safe for one night. Mrs. Daniels isn’t happy, but she nods all the same, and goes to his secretary to pay for Megumi’s services.
“Well, Buster,” Megumi says with a sigh, “it’s just you and me tonight.”
Filing the last of his paperwork, and eyes burning with exhaustion, Megumi can only think of one thing.
I’ve got to stop working so many late nights.
But even he can’t help it if Mrs. Daniels wants to bring in her dog for the third time that month, because somehow she thought that this time it would be okay to feed Buster chocolate despite Megumi’s explicit orders not to.
Poor Buster gets to deal with the fallout, and he gets to lecture Mrs. Daniels that she doesn’t always know what’s right and that as the vet he has final say.
He writes a note in Buster’s file to be prepared in two weeks for a return. The poor thing went to sleep a few hours ago in one of the kennels.
It’s an uphill battle, with clients like Mrs. Daniels, but at least he gets to see cute animals and fix them up as best he can before they return with their owners.
It’s too late, past midnight. Megumi grabs his keys and his wallet, when he hears the door chime from the front.
Megumi doesn’t run an emergency vet clinic, they’re not open twenty four hours, but Megumi’s never denied a client coming in later, as long as there was a fighting chance.
He shoves his wallet into his pocket, heading towards the front entrance. A man leans against the doorway, wearing a three piece suit, hand pressed tightly against his side. His hair is slicked back, peachy with a dark undercut.
But more importantly to Megumi’s sleep addled mind, there’s no pet he can see.
He wants to crawl into his bed, Shiro and Kuro around him, and possibly call in tomorrow just to catch up on sleep.
“I’m sorry, sir, we’re closed,” Megumi says, walking towards the man.
The man pushes himself off the doorway, standing up straight, and Megumi’s breath catches in his throat.
Everyone knows Ryomen Sukuna. One of the most infamous mob bosses, terrorizing their city daily and single handedly raising the murder statistics. People whisper on the street that he’s a curse on their city, even starting to call him the ‘King of Curses.’
And he’s currently standing in Megumi’s small practice, his white dress shirt blooming crimson with blood.
“Do you know how to give stitches?” Sukuna asks, his voice not even strained.
Megumi blinks, keys still in his hand, unsure if he should be truthful or not.
“Yeah?” he ends up answering, when the mafia boss didn’t look away. “I mean, kind of?”
Sukuna huffs, annoyance marring his features.
For a crime lord, it’s unfair that he’s so handsome. Tattoos line his face, accenting his features, making Sukuna look more intimidating than most people.
Megumi definitely needs more sleep if he’s thinking one of the most dangerous men in the world is handsome.
“You either know how to stitch someone up or you don’t, which is it?”
Well, that’s kind of true. Megumi clears his throat, lightly grabbing his shoulder as he tries to think of the words.
“If you need stitches, you should go to the hospital. I don’t have anything to numb it for humans and I don’t know how to stitch and not leave a scar,” Megumi explains.
His exhaustion’s starting to creep up on him. He hopes Kuro and Shiro aren’t waiting up for him, they do that on nights when he works late, waiting for him to come home.
Sukuna flashes him a grin, reaching up to pull his tie loose. Megumi gets a glimpse of a collarbone before he gets to see the other man's entire chest, and boy, he really had tattoos everywhere, didn’t he?
“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart.”
The wound is a nasty one, winding around Sukuna’s side and across his waist. He presses a hand against it before Megumi can truly evaluate it, and blood swells underneath his fingers.
Megumi’s grabbing the first aid kit before he fully realizes what he’s doing. In a second, he forgets his exhaustion and the thought of sleep, there’s a patient who needs his care.
Granted, this isn’t a dog or a cat who got a little roughed up. Megumi kneels on the ground next to the chair Sukuna sinks into, and pries the mans hand away from the wound.
“Hold still please,” Megumi murmurs. He does the same thing with the dogs, finding that talking to them as he works soothes both the dogs and himself.
It’s sort of like working on a large dog, he supposes. There’s more flesh, less fur, and he doesn’t have to worry about his client suddenly turning and biting him.
Well, Megumi thinks he might still have to worry about that, just with a gun instead of teeth. Or maybe teeth, if that’s what he’s into.
He places a hand on Sukuna’s knee to balance himself as he looks through the kit. There’s pain medicine hidden in the corner, so Megumi hands it to Sukuna and watches the man swallow the pills dry.
“I don’t have anything to numb it with,” Megumi says with a sigh.
It’s going to hurt like a bitch no matter what he does.
“You should really-”
“Sweetheart, if you say I should go to the hospital, I’ll make sure you end up there. Do your damn job.”
Sukuna speaks darkly, and Megumi braces himself like he would when he has one of his more difficult clients. He prepares for a bite and he’s kind of surprised when all Sukuna does is glare at him.
So less of a dog and more like a cat, baring its teeth in a hiss. A tiger, maybe.
He gently rubs Sukuna’s knee, attempting to soothe. “I have to get the needle and thread, will you be alright?”
He doesn’t like leaving his patients alone. People got antsy sometimes, and pets even more so. But Sukuna only huffs, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling.
“Hurry up,” the yakuza orders.
Megumi stands after a moment, quickly going to fetch supplies and extra bandages. His phone lightly hits his thigh as he walks, and Megumi pauses for a second.
There’s a dangerous man in his lobby. A curse on the city who’s committed crimes the likes of which Megumi’s never thought of before.
Sukuna’s wanted by the police, Megumi could call them, wash his hands clean of the situation, and walk away. He could return to work the next day and pretend none of this happened.
But Megumi’s never denied care to anyone who asked for it in his clinic. And Sukuna might be horrible, but he hasn’t done anything to Megumi, not yet.
He gets the needle and thread, and heads back to the lobby.
Sukuna’s stil in his chair, his breathing shallow and eyes closed. Megumi kneels once more, and threads the needle, taking a deep breath as he does so.
Sukuna watches him all the while, with brown eyes such a deep, rich color, they almost look red. Megumi mentally outlines where he wants the stitches to go, telling himself to make them small so they won’t leave too bad of a scar.
He doesn’t give Sukuna more of a warning than that, and Sukuna doesn’t seem to need one. Besides clenching his jaw when the needle first pierces skin, there’s no outright sign that Sukuna even feels it.
“Just what in the world happened to you?” he murmurs to himself more than to Sukuna.
He flushes when he realizes what he’s done, asking such a man what he’s done, like it’s any of his business. But he always does it to the pets when they come in, talking to them sweetly to reassure them while he works.
But Sukuna doesn’t seem to mind. A wry smirk flows over his face, a contrast to his brows, still furrowed from the pain.
“Would you believe a guy owed me money?” Sukuna asks.
Megumi doesn’t miss the past tense on that word, but really he does believe it. Sukuna’s been rumored to do just that, getting people further and further into debt until the only way they can pay it back is with their lives.
He counts ten stitches, he’s almost done.
“Am I going to walk outside my practice and see a dead body?” Megumi questions, trying to keep his voice neutral.
He really won’t be able to avoid calling the cops if that happens. Megumi is not about to go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit because Sukuna couldn’t clean up after himself.
But Sukuna only lets out a laugh, Megumi pauses his stitches as Sukuna’s stomach rolls from the unexpected movement.
“Not at all, sweetheart,” he says, voice dipping low, “I don’t like mixing business and pleasure.”
Megumi tugs a little sharply on the thread in response, giving Sukuna a cold look. Sukuna winces, but there’s little victory in the action.
Gently, he rubs the man's knee once more, Megumi doesn’t think about it, he simply does it, and Sukuna relaxes.
“I’m almost done.”
Neither of them speak as Megumi finishes up the last of the stitches. It’s sure to leave an ugly scar across Sukuna’s abdomen, but it’ll save him a trip to the hospital, and that seems to be what Sukuna’s really after.
Megumi discards bloody gloves, and gently wraps the wound in some bandages. Sukuna watches him all the while, eventually pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up.
“You shouldn’t be smoking for a while,” Megumi chides. “Not in my practice, at least. Go outside and smoke. You also shouldn’t be doing anything strenuous for the next couple of days.”
It’s almost the same spiel he gives his clients when they pick up their pets from surgery, but not quiet. Sukuna looks endlessly amused, and makes a point to blow cigarette smoke in Megum’s direction.
“Is that any way to treat someone who’s done you a favor?” Megumi asks with a sigh. He glances at the clock, it’s almost one in the morning.
Sukuna doesn’t answer him, not at first. He shrugs on his torn suit jacket, leaving the bloody white one behind. Megumi doesn’t comment on it, at this point he wants nothing more than to go home and sleep.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Sukuna says. “I owe you one.”
Megumi holds his hands up in defense, tired mind trying to work out just what Sukuna said.
He does not want one of the most powerful men in Japan to owe him anything.
“You don’t have to do that, just-just don’t ever do this again,” Megumi requests.
Really, he never wants to give a human stitches again. Dogs are so, so much better. He can sedate dogs, and they don’t smoke in the lobby of his clinic.
“You know as well as I do that I can’t promise that,” Sukuna returns.
Sukuna pats his pockets, looking for something, and Megumi cleans up the small first aid kit. There are a few drops of blood on the ground, Megumi stares at it, for lack of anything better to stare at.
Absolutely not to avoid looking at Sukuna’s chest. He glances up nevertheless.
Oh, Sukuna had abs, Megumi didn’t notice earlier, too caught up in giving stitches.
Sukuna holds out a business card to him, Megumi takes it without thinking. There’s a number sprawled on the back of it, in neat handwriting.
“If you ever need anything,” Sukuna says firmly, “call me. I owe you one.”
One of the most powerful men in Japan owes him one. It’s a heavy feeling, one that settles in his chest as an weight.
“That’s really not necess-”
The entrance to his clinic chimes, and Sukuna’s gone before Megumi fully realizes what’s going on.
Besides a ruined white shirt, a few drops of blood on the floor, there’s no sign that Sukuna was there in the first place. With a sigh, he cleans the blood and places the shirt in his office to take care of later.
He slips the card into his pocket, determined to think of it later. His clock chimes at one in the morning, all Megumi can think of is the softness of his bed and how he might have to close tomorrow.
Besides, he’s got a feeling he’ll be seeing Sukuna again.
Megumi drags himself up to work the next day.
Kuro and Shiro are greatly disappointed by it.
When he arrives, his assistant is smirking at him like she knows something he doesn’t. Megumi’s downs the rest of his coffee before she can start.
“Something came for you,” Nobara sings.
Oh god, he hopes he didn’t accidentally send a package here again. Nobara has no qualms about opening his mail.
She reaches under the desk, lifting up a huge bouquet of roses bigger than Megumi’s head. The floral scent overwhelms him immediately.
“Did you get a boyfriend?” Nobara questions, leaning over the flowers.
Megumi really, really hates his life right now.
Tucked in the stems there’s a small envelope. He grabs it and shoves it into his pocket before Nobara can snatch it, but she sure does try.
Maybe the flowers are from a thankful client. Megumi’s gotten them before, for saving a beloved pet when all seemed lost.
Deep in his heart, he knows it’s not that.
“Are you still going out with Maki this weekend?” Megumi asks, hoping to divert her attention.
It works, Nobara’s eyes light up. She starts excitedly rambling about this new club that’s opened downtown, and how Maki promised to take her so they could enjoy a real date.
“You should come! You don’t get out enough,” Nobara teases.
Well, she’s not exactly wrong. Nobara wiggles her brows, positively leering at him.
“If I say I’ll go, will you stop looking at me like that?” Megumi asks in defeat.
Nobara whoops in excitement, and Megumi hides his smile as he heads back to his office.
The bloody shirt still rests on the spare chair in his office, the only physical proof of what happened last night.
Megumi pulls the letter from his pocket, it’s more of a note really, folded neatly. He opens it slowly, gaping at what he finds.
Tucked into the note are several bills, almost too many to count. There’s got to be at least a hundred thousand yen. And on the paper, there’s a single word, written in the same neat handwriting that’s on the card Sukuna gave him last night.
Thanks .
Megumi actually likes going out drinking. It’s one of the few breaks he can get, and he enjoys spending the time with friends.
What he does not enjoy is being dragged out by friends and then left at the bar ten seconds after arriving because everyone wants to dance.
It’s a new club, called Shrine, a rather nice one, in Megumi’s opinion. High ceilings flash with colored lights, most of them red. The drinks are strong and Megumi sips at his third, feeling a pleasant buzz burn through his veins.
A man slides up to him at the bar. He’s older, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a silver rolex on his wrist. He’s trying to go for a ‘silver fox’ type of look, but it just makes him look older.
The man places a drink on the bar for him, standing an inch or two closer, talking about how some stocks they own. He’s trying to show off, entice Megumi for a night in the hopes of being spoiled.
Why did he come here, he wonders. Is this what he wants with his night? Sometimes, it is. Sometimes Megumi wants a random hookup, but other nights—like tonight—he wants nothing more than to drink and be left alone.
“Thanks for the drink,” Megumi says, but he doesn’t touch it, not yet. “I’m not interested though.”
The man’s smile falters, just for a moment, but he’s the type of man Megumi knows, who can’t be seen as weak. The type of man who won’t walk away in shame after being rejected.
Silently, Megumi settles himself in for an uncomfortable night telling a man over twice his age that he doesn’t want some random fling.
But then a warm hand presses against his back, with a low, rumbling voice that stirs memories even from Megumi’s hazy buzz.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite little doctor,” Sukuna purrs.
The man attempting to be a silver fox takes a step back, eyes widening with fear. It highlights the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.
Megumi glances back, and he’s met with Sukuna’s grinning face. In the haze of alcohol, Megumi almost thinks that Sukuna looks genuinely happy to see him.
“Sukuna-sama,” the man greets respectfully, “I didn’t know he came here for you.”
Sukuna doesn’t even look at him, only waving a hand and saying, “Scram.”
The man doesn’t need to be told twice.
Megumi picks up the drink the man brought him from the bar. It’s one of the sweeter drinks, Megumi’s not too fond of them, but free alcohol is free alcohol, right? He takes a large gulp of it, pretending Sukuna isn’t there.
But the yakuza isn’t used to being ignored.
“You should have told me you were stopping by, Fushiguro Megumi,” Sukuna purrs. “I would have gotten you free drinks.”
Megumi snorts into his hand with laughter, cheeks coloring at the thought of the roses he had gotten earlier, and the money.
He waves a hand, stepping away from Sukuna’s touch. Though the other seems disappointed, he doesn’t follow after Megumi.
“You already thanked me enough,” Megumi reassures. “I don’t need anything else. How’s your side?”
It’s a poor attempt at controlling the conversation, but he tries it nevertheless.
But Sukuna smirks again, a little sharper than before, and Megumi breaths out a sigh of relief. Maybe he’ll make it through another encounter with the yakuza unscathed.
Sukuna places a hand on his lower back, saying, “Come with me, Fushiguro Megumi.”
He barely has time to grab his drink before Sukuna’s leading him off, to the back of the club where there’s a stairwell, marked off by a rope and a bouncer, leading to a private area in the back.
It’s obviously meant for VIP’s, like Sukuna himself. Megumi glances back, sipping at his drink, his nose pinching slightly at the sudden salty taste.
“My friends…” Megumi trails off.
Nobara’s dancing with Maki on the dancefloor, completely oblivious to him. Sukuna doesn’t even seem bothered, and leads Megumi towards a booth, where he gestures for Megumi to sit down first.
“Your friends are having a good time, you should try to lighten up, sweetheart,” Sukuna muses.
Megumi rolls his eyes, taking another gulp of his drink. It is a bit nicer back here. The music doesn’t hurt his ears, and he doesn’t have to worry about random guys coming up trying to hit on him.
“You never answered me, how’s your side? Does it hurt?” Megumi gestures with his hand.
Sukuna’s wearing a black silk shirt, just tight enough to show his muscles but not too much to be flashy. He looks good, Megumi’s willing to admit in his buzzed haze.
But Sukuna only rolls his eyes. “You did a good job, it hardly hurts.”
It’s only been three days. Megumi looks at him straight in the eyes, leaning a bit closer. It makes Sukuna’s grin widen, scooting closer with an obvious glance at his lips.
Really, sometimes guys are too predictable.
Megumi lets him lean a little closer, and then with one easy movement, jabs him right where he gave Sukuna twenty stitches.
The other man hisses with pain, cringing in on himself while Megumi laughs, rolling his eyes. Such a tough yakuza leader, brought down by a single poke from a veterinarian.
“Barely hurts,” Megumi mocks. “You got them four days ago, of course they still hurt. You should be resting.”
At least Megumi doesn’t have to worry about putting a cone around Sukuna’s neck, though with how he’s acting, he might just have to. Megumi leans back against the booth, letting his mind fall further into the fuzziness.
He didn’t have that much, but already it feels like he’s had a bit too much.
Sukuna’s talking next to him, Megumi does his best to pay attention, even though the words aren’t making too much sense.
“...flowers I sent?” Sukuna finishes.
Oh, that’s right, roses. Megumi can’t tell if his face is flushing from the alcohol or the memory of the roses, but he hums in acknowledgement all the same.
He tries to lift his glass up, but it’s so much heavier than before.
Megumi knows he hasn’t had that much to drink. Sukuna’s still talking though, so he turns back to the man.
“‘Kuna,” Megumi murmurs.
A warm hand cups his cheek, tilting his face up until he’s staring into brown eyes so rich, they almost look red. He head lolls into the touch, and Megumi’s helpless to stop it.
“Did you have too much to drink, Fushiguro Megumi?” Sukuna questions. He picks up Megumi’s drink, sniffing it.
Megumi’s only had two drinks before this one, he should be good, but he can hardly say that. Sukuna lets go of him and he leans against the other man's chest, feeling the heat of his skin radiating underneath his silk black shirt.
The most he can do is flex his fingers, and he does so, grabbing onto Sukuna’s pants. He can feel more than he can hear Sukuna talking, because everything’s going dark, and there’s nothing more he can do about it.
“Kuna,” he tries again, voice a slur.
A warm hand presses against the back of his neck, and he can feel himself being lifted into strong arms. The temptation to fall into darkness is too great, he wants to sleep so badly.
“Sleep, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Sukuna says.
And Megumi does.
Megumi doesn’t know where he is.
He lays on a bed with silk sheets, a light pounding behind his temples from the slightest of hangovers, in a sleek and modern bedroom. It’s not his own, because there’s a distinct lack of dog pictures on the nightstand, and Kuro and Shiro aren’t clamoring over him for their breakfast.
But there is Sukuna, and well Megumi doesn’t know what to think of that.
The yakuza sleeps in a chair beside the bed, still dressed in the same clothes he was wearing last night. He snores lightly, hair messily falling against his forehead.
How did he get here? Megumi searches his memory, but the last thing he can remember is sliding into the booth next to Sukuna, and asking him if his side still hurts.
Sukuna stirs in his chair, tired eyes blinking open and landing on Megumi instantly. They stare at each other for a moment, Megumi wide eyed and curious, Sukuna exhausted.
“You’re up,” Sukuna mumbles as he stretches. “How’re you feeling?”
Megumi stutters for a moment. “I’m fine. What happened last night?”
Messily, Sukuna pushes his hair back away from his face as he rises, pressing a hand against Megumi’s forehead like he expects to find a fever. He pulls back when Sukuna lingers, crossing his arms expectantly.
“Someone slipped something in your drink, so I brought you to my place,” Sukuna explains.
His drink? But the only drinks he had were the ones the bartender gave him. Well that and the one the man gave him before Sukuna appeared.
Sukuna sees the realization come over his face, smirking slightly. “Seems I found you at just the right time, sweetheart. I can’t have anything happen to my favorite doctor, can I?”
“I’m not a doctor,” Megumi snaps. Disgust rolls in his stomach at the thoughts of what might have happened to him if Sukuna hadn’t appeared.
“That’s right, you’re my doctor,” Sukuna replies. “I don’t want you looking after anyone else.”
Megumi rubs the bridge of his brow, pushing the blankets off himself as he rises. He’s still fully clothed, thankfully, he’s even still wearing his puppy printed socks he hadn’t taken off after work yesterday.
He needs to get out of here, and take a shower. The man’s face swims in the front of his memory, and his stomach rolls violently, threatening to send what little rests in his stomach onto Sukuna’s floor.
“I took care of him.”
Megumi’s gaze jerks back to Sukuna. The yakuza looks down at him, he never noticed that Sukuna’s taller than him before. His expression is unreadable though, gauging Megumi’s reaction.
“You did what?” Megumi whispers.
He wants to hear it. Because that makes them even, doesn’t it? He stitched up Sukuna’s side, and Sukuna saved him from getting raped.
“The guy,” Sukuna reiterates. “I took care of him. I can’t have anyone trying to rape my personal doctor, can I?”
Megumi scoffs, shaking his head as he takes a step back. But there’s a small part of him, the smallest part of him, that’s pleased to hear it.
He pushes past Sukuna, muttering, “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
Sukuna follows after him, barely half a step behind him. His apartment is the same as his bedroom, sleek and modern, practically oozing money. It’s not like Megumi’s apartment at all, which has only one bedroom and hardly a kitchen.
His shoes are lined up neatly by the door, where Sukuna must have left them last night.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Sukuna tries, “you didn’t have to.”
Megumi slips his shoes on. Sukuna’s still behind him, so he offers a small bow.
“I assume this makes us even, I won’t ask for any favors.” Thinking of it, Megumi reaches into his wallet, pulling out Sukuna’s card to hand it back to him.
But Sukuna only shakes his head, gesturing for Megumi to keep the card. “I stand by my offer, Fushiguro Megumi. If you need me, you can call me.”
Megumi hesitates, but slips the card into his pocket nevertheless.
For emergencies , he tells himself, hesitating by the door. It’s not the worst thing in the world, to have one of the strongest men in Japan in his back pocket.
“Do you want to go out and get breakfast?” Sukuna asks. “My treat.”
Megumi offers him a wry smile, shaking his head. Sukuna’s expression falls, and wow, it’s strange to see a yakuza look so cute .
“Another time,” Megumi pacifies. “I need to go and take a shower.”
He doesn’t want to remember anything of that man. Not even the way he looked. But Sukuna takes it in stride, giving him a smirk.
“I’m sure it won’t be long before I see my favorite doctor,” Sukuna promises.
Megumi snorts, slipping out the door before Sukuna can try to keep him for longer. He calls for a cab in Sukuna’s lobby, trying not to think too much about the fact that he’s probably the only one to be around Sukuna so much, and lived to tell the tale.
Buster’s back. The poor little chihuahua whimpers on the blanket Megumi got for him, upset by the new scenery.
He’s too old, too small, Megumi’s not sure he’s going to make it through the night.
He lets Nobara leave early, and settles in for sleeping in his office, and gently pets Buster’s head while he looks over files and other work.
It’s almost midnight when the door to his practice opens, he must have forgotten to lock it up. Megumi pets Buster one last time and heads towards the door, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he goes.
Sukuna stands there, this time devoid of blood. The door shuts behind him, Megumi doesn’t miss the way he locks it behind him.
“Are you alright?” he asks, looking stull for signs of blood. He didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean that Sukuna wasn’t hurt in some way.
But Sukuna shakes his head, and the worry eases from Megumi’s chest, as quickly as it formed.
“I saw the lights on, why are you working so late, sweetheart?”
Megumi blinks, glancing over his shoulder, back towards his office, where he was sitting with Buster. Sukuna takes the hint before Megumi can even explain himself, walking back to his office.
The man stops once he enters, only looking down at the sick dog with confusion marring his features. Buster’s grown a little weaker, and doesn’t even look up at Sukuna when he walks in.
“There’s a dog here,” Sukuna says, like it’s a mystery waiting to be solved, and he’s a detective.
Megumi snorts, but he’s tired, so tired. “It’s a veterinarian clinic, of course there’s dogs here.”
Sukuna gives him a cold look, but Megumi’s paying more attention to Buster, petting him slowly. The poor thing’s breathing was weak, a slow in and out that seemed to take longer with each moment.
No, it doesn’t seem like Buster will make it through the night, as awful as it is.
All the while, Sukuna watches him carefully.
“What’s wrong with him?” Sukuna asks carefully.
Megumi hums, sitting himself down and rubbing his eyes once more. It’s too late, much too late, but he can’t help but worry nevertheless.
It’s only right that Buster has someone to be with him in his final moments. It’s what Megumi would want for himself.
“He’s been through a lot, he probably won’t make it through the night.”
He doesn’t want to say that it’s definite. It feels like throwing a curtain midway through a show, stopping the actors from performing. So he doesn’t.
Sukuna pulls up one of the chairs, sitting beside him. “Okay, dogs die just like people though. Why are you still here?”
Megumi rolls his eyes, looking over at the man. He doesn’t look interested, only concerned, and it makes the dry comment on his lips wilt and fall back down his throat.
“It’s what I would want for me,” Megumi says softly, “why should I deny one of my patients that?”
For a second, Sukuna doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He waits, and he’s cold and closed off, like he expects something else from Megumi, but there’s nothing. Megumi offers nothing more.
With a scoff, Megumi turns away, back towards Buster.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Sukuna wouldn’t understand, of course he wouldn’t. This was one of the most bloodthirsty men in all of Japan, what sort of comfort would Megumi expect from a man who had blood on his hands?
Of course, Sukuna doesn’t correct him, but he moves slightly, spreading out in the chair and getting comfortable. He doesn’t smirk, his smile isn’t sharp enough for that, but a smile is still there.
“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. I might as well keep you company, while you’re up so late.”
Megumi doesn’t ask him to leave, or ask him to stay. He doesn’t speak at all, and neither does Sukuna.
In fact, neither of them speak for the rest of the night. Megumi slowly pets Buster, until the dog's breathing slows and eventually stops. He knew it was coming and it still hurt, like the sharpest of knives to his chest.
Sukuna wraps an arm around his shoulder, and Megumi presses his face against the yakuza’s neck, and that’s where they stay, until the tears are gone and dawn breaks only a few short hours later.
Sukuna leaves after he delivers the news to Mrs. Daniels. He gets breakfast delivered to them, and they eat trashy breakfast foods covered in grease.
It’s oddly touching, having one of the most frightening men in all of Japan, sitting at his desk and talking about how Megumi’s vet practice is smack in the middle of prime territory to fight over.
“Is that why you were hurt that night?” Megumi asks, around a mouth full of hash browns that are so greasy but so delicious.
Sukuna takes a bite of toast. “I told you, a guy owed me money.”
Megumi doesn’t really want to think about what that means, how payment for cash could be paid in blood, for the man who probably has more money than Megumi could ever spend in his life.
He takes another bite of greasy potatoes, musing aloud, “Why are you telling me all this?”
There’s nothing for Sukuna to gain from it. Megumi’s got no plans to ever leave his practice, to join Sukuna’s ranks in the yakuza. At most, he can be a quick fix doctor who wouldn’t mind patching Sukuna up if it wasn’t too life threatening.
But Sukuna looks at him with an easy smile, like he’s amused that Megumi’s asking such a simple question.
“Allies are hard to come by, Fushiguro Megumi,” Sukuna pauses, “people like you even less so. I plan to move in and claim this area as my own.”
Megumi’s got a feeling they aren’t talking about streets any longer. His cheeks tint as he turns back to his food, this time shoving scrambled eggs into his mouth.
Sukuna lightly nudges him. “If you ever see anyone who shouldn’t be here, call me.”
After a second, Megumi nods.
After all, one yakuza is enough for him.
On the chart for Megumi’s next client, the pet's name is labeled as nothing more than ‘cat’ .
It’s not uncommon, sometimes people get their pets and while trying to figure out a name for them, end up calling them ‘kitty’ or ‘puppy’ or something as adorable as that.
What is unusual though, is the person sitting in the exam room.
Megumi looks down at the chart again. Underneath the bland name of ‘cat’ is the owner's name, Uraume.
They’re completely stoic, sitting in the single chair in the room with a pet carrier in their lap. The cat sounds rather upset, howling miserably in their carrier while Uraume looks like this is just another normal outing for them.
But Uraume’s wearing Sukuna’s crest on their shirt, a small thing Megumi almost hadn’t noticed if he hadn’t been looking for it.
He tilts his head slightly to the side in question.
Uraume shrugs. “Sukuna-sama says you’re the best veterinarian in the city.”
Megumi blinks in surprise. Sukuna said that?
“Would you look at him? He doesn’t normally let anyone look at him.”
The yowling from the pet carrier is a testament to that.
Megumi nods all the same. Uraume sets the carrier down on the examination table. The poor thing howls miserably, banging against the sides of the carrier.
Uraume opens the front, barely missing getting swiped at by a large paw. Megumi ushers them out of the way, placing his hand near the front of the carrier. It’s best to let the cat get a whiff of him before he tries anything.
“You might have to sedate him,” Uraume says, though they look thankful that Megumi’s even willing to take this on.
Megumi gives them a small smile, shaking his head. “I don’t really like doing that unless I absolutely have to. I’m sure ‘Cat’ needs some time to get used to me.”
He inches his hand further into the carrier to prove his bravery. There’s a hiss before a cold, wet nose presses against his hand.
‘It’s your funeral,’ Uraume’s eyes tell him.
But then Cat’s head bumps against his hand, roughly rubbing his cheek against Megumi’s fingers to spread his scent. Megumi reaches into the carrier, pulling out the lump of a feline, who goes completely limp in his arms.
Uraume marvels at him, sitting down delicately in the chair. “I call him Sukunya, in private.”
Megumi snorts in laughter, carrying the cat like a baby in his arms, squished against his chest. He’ll see if there’s the need for shots, and move onto an exam.
After all, Sukuna says he’s the best , he’s got to live up to that expectation.
The next day, he finds himself taking care of a cockatoo owned by a man with too many tattoos to count, from the tips of his fingers to the top of his neck. He scares away half the people in the lobby, but he genuinely cares about his bird.
Megumi cooes at the pretty bird and listens to the man talk worriedly about how his bird isn’t eating as much, or if he does eat it’s only treats, and Megumi’s pretty sure that’s the problem, but his newest client needs someone to listen for a moment.
It’s a strange pair, but Megumi’s got a feeling he’ll be seeing a lot of strange pairs because of Sukuna.
And that’s fine with him. As long as people take care of their pets, that’s enough for him. Megumi doesn’t expect much else from his clients.
Perhaps it’s the tattoos, perhaps it’s the way people linger outside his practice, but when Megumi leaves for work one night, unease drips into his gut with a rush.
He hasn’t seen Sukuna since they had breakfast together. The other man's card is still in his wallet, tucked safely away, for emergencies just like he said.
He steps back inside, like he forgot something, and across the street four men watch him with dark eyes.
It’s stupid, Sukuna probably wouldn’t answer even if he did call, but he finds himself taking the card out and dialing the number nevertheless.
Yet Sukuna does, on the third ring, with a rough ‘ what’ that comes out from the other end. Megumi almost hung up the phone, thinking he could handle whatever was going on outside by himself.
“Sukuna?” Megumi asks instead, a small part of him hoping that he dialed the number wrong and was just disturbing some random person.
There’s shuffling from the other end of the line, before Sukuna comes back, his voice much softer, almost a purr. “Well hello there, sweetheart.”
Okay, so it was the right number at least. Megumi rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he wonders if whatever’s waiting for him outside is worth this.
“I’m hanging up.”
Sukuna laughs from the other end, deep and hearty. “Don’t, don’t, what’s going on sweetheart?”
Megumi chews on his lower lip, something he can’t remember doing since high school. He’s almost not sure that it’s worth it, telling Sukuna what might be waiting for him outside. Silently, he wonders how bad it can be, going out there to face the music.
He wonders if his friends would come to his funeral?
Sukuna’s silent for a moment before suddenly saying, “I’m on my way.”
He used to be a delinquent in high school, and here he is, balking at the idea of going outside to face four men who look ready to end his life.
He hangs up before Sukuna can question more, and takes a deep breath. He’s never been a coward before, why should he start now?
So he takes his keys, threading them between his fingers, and exits his practice.
The four men have moved, now standing in front of the entrance of his practice. Two of them are smoking, leaning against the wall casually. The other two stand before him, barricading him without giving him a chance to escape.
“Are you sure this is the guy?” one of them asks another. His face illuminates from the cigarette smoke as he takes a drag from it.
One of the other men nods, and there’s a flash of something silver in his hand. Was that a knife?
Alright, Megumi might be a little more in over his head than he thought.
“What are you doing here?” Megumi asks. The men around him laugh.
“This little thing, this is what’s got Sukuna trying to take our neighborhood?” The one standing before him, the obvious leader, laughs. “Kill him and get it over with. I’m tired of fighting.”
Megumi ducks, just as one of them slashes the air. He jumps back as he does so, his back hitting the door to his practice. It rattles underneath him, a sharp pain travels up his spine, but there’s hardly a moment before he jumps to the left, dodging a stab from the same knife.
Megumi falls to his side, ignoring the spark of pain before he looks up at his assailants, only one thought going through his head.
If I live through this, I’m never working another late night again.
Well, that’s a lie and he knows it.
The knife flashes, brilliant silver under the streetlights, and a horrible bang crashes over him. The man holding the knife in front of him collapses, face first onto the ground. The other three scramble, some of them dropping to the ground and two of them running.
A sleek black car pulls up to the curb. Uraume leans out just as Megumi brushes away splattered blood from his cheek.
“Are you alright, Fushiguro-sama?” they ask respectfully.
Dumbly, Megumi nods. The car door opens, and Sukuna emerges, hair messily falling into his forehead. He must have rushed to get here so quickly.
Sukuna kicks the quickly cooling corpse of the man before kneeling in front of Megumi. Gently, he wipes a bit of blood from Megumi’s cheek, getting a spot he missed. Then, he brings his thumb to his mouth, tasting it.
It almost doesn’t look like the same man who had breakfast with him, who saved him from getting raped. This is yakuza Sukuna, who’s prize has been hurt.
“Uraume,” Sukuna says, an order upon itself.
“Yes, sir?”
A leather gloved hand is offered to Megumi. He slips his hand into after a moment, allowing Sukuna to pull him to his feet.
“Kill them.”
Uraume emerges and oh, they’re holding a gun , and briskly walks down the street, after the trio that fled.
“Don’t,” Megumi says quietly, but Uraume’s already gone.
Sukuna makes a low noise in the back of his throat, pulling Megumi closer. “Come on, sweetheart, let me take you home.”
They’re not listening . Megumi shoves Sukuna against his chest, taking a stumbling step away. The other man looks shocked, his hands reaching out for Megumi, but he only bats them away.
“I don’t want people to die over me!” Megumi shouts. He picks up his keys from the ground, not realizing he dropped them when he fell.
Sukuna tilts his head just slightly, and Megumi can’t help but think about how much he looks like a tiger.
“People die all the time, sweetheart,” he says, resigned. “It’s a part of both of our jobs.”
He’s not dealing with this tonight. His back smarts from being thrown against the door, Sukuna won’t listen to him, and Megumi’s tired. It’s been a long day.
“Fuck off, Sukuna,” Megumi mutters, turning towards the subway station. He’d get home on his own, if he had anything to say about it.
“Megumi!” Sukuna shouts.
But Megumi doesn’t turn around. He descends the stairs two at a time, and tries to get rid of the echoes of gunfire from his head.
“Megumi!”
There’s blood on the tip of his shoe.
It’s a shame, really. He just had them cleaned.
One of the men that tried to assault Megumi laid at his feet, hardly breathing but still alive. That would be corrected soon, but for the moment, he simply dealt with it.
“And then he stormed off!” Sukuna continued, complaining to Uraume. “He was all mad, over a little blood.”
Well, maybe a little more than blood, but that was what Sukuna is focusing on.
Uraume, ever the loyal servant, lets out a long, suffering sigh. Sukuna couldn’t really blame them, but it was still annoying.
Under his orders, Uraume had killed two of the men, and then captured one. Since Megumi didn’t want them all killed. So the one, bleeding and tortured at their feet, wouldn’t die. Yet. There’s always later.
“Sir, I really don’t think this is appropriate-”
“Uraume, there’s blood on my suit. I highly doubt there’s a more appropriate time for us to discuss this.”
Uraume looks at him, expression carefully blank. Sukuna never did understand how they managed to be so cold all of the time, but he’s grateful for it. It’s hard to find people he wants to keep around in this business.
“Aren’t you going to offer some advice? Anything?”
“Please do not ruin things with Fushiguro-sama,” Uraume says carefully after a moment. “I do not want to have to take my cat to a different vet.”
Of course that is Uraume’s concern. Sukuna takes out a cigarette, taking a long drag from it. He could go for something harder, but he wants a clear head for the rest of the night.
Below them, the man whose face is so blood he doesn’t even look like a person anymore, gags weakly on blood. Sukuna flicks a bit of ash from his cigarette onto the poor soul.
“Please,” he whispers, barely audible, “kill me.”
Sukuna ignores him, turning back to Uraume. “Maybe more flowers? When’s your cat’s next appointment? I'll take him in.”
Uraume holds up their hands. They’re stained with blood, just like Sukuna’s own.
“That won’t be necessary, sir. I’m sure flowers will win Fushiguro-sama over.”
Taking a long drag of his cigarette once more, Sukuna tossed it to the ground, watching it land on the broken man at their feet. He didn’t even flinch, probably starting to lose consciousness from the bloodloss.
“I’ll think of something. How can he ignore me like this?” Sukuna bemoans. “He won’t take any of my calls.”
He caan tell Uraume is tired of hearing about this. But the other doesn’t complain, only wiping their blade clean. It was almost time for clean up.
“You’ll think of something, sir. Now will you excuse me to take out the trash?”
Realizing there was nothing more he could give to the conversation, Sukuna nods. It's getting late.
Perhaps, if he drives past Megumi’s clinic, he might see the lights are still on. But he knows already that they won’t be, like they haven’t been for the last week.
Two weeks later, Uraume looked at a downtrodden Sukuna, who still hadn’t been able to make amends with Fushiguro Megumi.
It's kind of sad, seeing one of the most powerful men in Japan be so upset because the pretty veterinarian down the street won't talk to him.
“Sir,” Uraume says, shaking their head. “It might be time to grovel.”
Anything is better than this.
Sukuna turns away from them, probably planning to ignore their advice, and Uraume thinks, not for the first time, that they would have to take matters into their own hands.
They show up at Fushiguro’s veterinarian clinic the next morning, a small bouquet of flowers under their arm. Uraume’s not sure of flowers and their meanings, but it’s a pretty bouquet, and they’re proud to carry it in.
Fushiguro stands by the reception desk, a clipboard in his hand as he turns toward Uraume. Pretty black brows arch in surprise, looking around for the cat carrier Uraume would normally bring with them.
“Uraume? Where’s Sukunya?”
Uraume holds out the bouquet, bowing their head respectfully. “Please forgive Sukuna-sama for his behavior. He is not used to being around people not in the yakuza. You are quite a mystery to him.”
The secretary bursts out laughing, clutching her stomach while she actually cried with laughter, and Fushiguro looks ready to die on the spot, his face completely red.
But still, slender fingers wrap around the bouquet, taking it from Uraume. Fushiguro could set the world on fire from how red his face was, but at least he accepts the flowers.
“Thank you, Uraume,” Fushiguro says stiffly. “I’ll think about it.”
They suppose that’s all they can ask for. It’s more than Sukuna ever got, arguing with Uraume about what the best next step was.
Uraume nods, just an incline of their head, and turns toward the exit. Sukuna probably needs his breakfast brought to him, if he hadn’t gotten it already.
Uraume opens the door just as the brunette secretary turns toward Megumi, a teasing smile on her lips.
“You’re a mystery to him, Megumi.”
There’s a bouncer outside of Shrine and there’s never been one before.
At least, there wasn’t one there when he was last partying, the night the man attempting to be a silver fox slipped him a roofie.
Megumi really, really doesn’t want to be here. He most certainly isn’t going to stand in a line for who knows how long to get inside and see Sukuna.
He slips his way to the front, pulling out his ID for the bouncer who already looks like he’s already waiting to tell Megumi to get lost.
Maybe he is. Maybe Sukuna doesn’t want to see him at all anymore. But Megumi steels himself, and lets the man check his ID.
“I’m here to see Sukuna,” Megumi says. “Is he here tonight?”
The man’s eyes widen, he quickly hands the ID back. “Go on in.”
That’s his answer, Megumi supposes. He pushes past the bouncer and into the club. There’s too many people, and the smell of sweat and alcohol is sickly in the air. He pushes his way back the way he remembers, to the VIP area with a velvet rope and a guard who immediately lifts it for him.
Upstairs is much like he remembers. It’s quieter, with fewer people. Sukuna sits in the same booth Megumi’s pretty sure they sat in last time.
Megumi takes a few deep breaths, and wanders to the other man. He tries to remain casual, but this is the first time he’s been in a club and hasn’t actually been drinking. It feels kind of weird, being sober.
He should have stopped at the bar and gotten some liquid courage. That always helps.
But Sukuna looks up before Megumi can change his mind and go down to the bar to get a drink.
Those crimson eyes meet his own, lighting up, and Megumi doesn’t think he’s made the wrong decision. Megumi walks the final steps forward, sitting down next to Sukuna.
“Hello there, sweetheart,” Sukuna says, trying for what he did the first time Megumi called him, a low sensual purr, but it comes out too happy.
Megumi plucks Sukuna’s drink from the table, knocking the whiskey back so he could get some of the courage he needs. Sukuna lets him, probably a bit too happy that Megumi’s come to see him.
“I’m still mad at you,” Megumi warns.
A warm hand lands on his thigh, a shiver runs down Megumi’s spine before he can help himself. But the motion of pleasure isn’t lost on Sukuna, as much as Megumi wishes it would be.
“You’re sexy when you’re mad.”
Megumi huffs, shoving the hand off his thigh, and turning away from Sukuna.
It’s like dealing with his clients sometimes. Pets need training, give them an inch and they take a mile. He won’t let Sukuna get away with this.
Sukuna leans a bit closer, the hand brushes over Megumi’s thigh once more, and a warm voice murmurs in his ear, “Come on, baby, don’t be mad.”
Once again, Megumi brushes off the hand from his thigh and turns to Sukuna, irritated.
“You are not going to kill someone in front of me again, Sukuna,” Megumi says firmly. He grabs Sukuna’s jaw, forcing the yakuza to meet his gaze. “Do you understand me?”
Megumi would not go home having to wash blood from his skin and throwing out his clothes. He would not watch Sukuna murder someone in his name again.
Crimson eyes meet his own, too much heat in Sukuna’s gaze to be identified as anything other than lust.
The hand comes back, skating up his thigh near his hip.
Oh, if he’s not careful, this is going to end up in Sukuna’s bed, this time with a very different intention than last time. What is it about coming to this club that makes him end up going home with Sukuna?
“If that’s it, baby,” Sukuna murmurs, leaning closer, “I can do that. Now come here.”
The hand on his hip tightens, and Megumi’s pulled into a strong lap just as lips messily meet his own. The taste of whiskey dances between them in teeth and tongue, and the taste of each other.
It’s late. Too late to be working.
There’s no client at his side this time. No sick dog who’s been given too much chocolate. Just a mountain of paperwork that’s piled up while he spends his nights with Sukuna.
But now he’s got to play catch up, and Sukuna’s got actual work to do tonight. So he bends over paperwork and locks the door, as he’s done every night since those men were outside waiting for him.
It’s almost midnight when Megumi’s just finished, debating on calling Sukuna to see if he’s finished with whatever he’s doing, when a fierce banging comes from the front door. It’s the frantic kind of knock that screams desperation, that something’s wrong.
He sets aside the last of his work, pulling his keys from his pocket. Someone must need help, to be that frantic.
It’s Uraume, they almost tumble into Megumi’s practice when Megumi opens the door. Their hair is a mess, blood stains their hands.
“Uraume?” Megumi asks, wiping his eyes. “What-”
Uraume grabs the front of his shirt, smearing blood there.
“You have to come, he’s hurt.”
That’s all Megumi needs to hear. He pries Uraume’s hand off his shirt, rushing to the back and grabbing the first aid kit and everything else he thought he might need. He barely remembers to grab his jacket.
Uraume’s already waiting for him, in the car outside, and Megumi throws his things on the seat beside him. It takes too long for them to get to Sukuna’s apartment.
Megumi’s one of the few people who know the keycode to Sukuna’s apartment. Uraume carries the bag of medical supplies for him. Blood is smeared onto the elevator buttons, Megumi winces as he presses the bloodiest one, the one to Sukuna’s floor.
“How bad is it?” Megumi asks quietly. His voice doesn’t shake.
It doesn’t.
Uraume won’t look up from the floor.
“He won’t let anyone look at him but you.”
Turning on his heel, Megumi turns to glare, his expression sharp. “I will say if he needs to go to the hospital or not. If I say he needs to go, I need you to help me get him there, no questions.”
Megumi is not a doctor. He works on animals and as much as Sukuna wants to pretend he’s a doctor, there’s a lot that Megumi doesn’t know how to fix on a person.
Uraume meets his gaze, and nods firmly just as the elevator pings that they’ve arrived.
He could follow the trail of blood to Sukuna’s room if he wanted to. He chooses not to. He chooses to look forward and sees his-his boyfriend? He’s not sure if they’ve worked out a title for each other.
Sukuna lays back on his bed, shirt gone and his torso a mess of blood. His breathing is still light, but present. Underneath the blood, Megumi can barely make out the scar from the stitches he gave last time.
Megumi takes the kit, opening it on the end of the bed. “What happened?”
Too awkwardly to the side, Uraume wrings their hands together, seeming unsure of what to do with themselves as Megumi cleans away the blood. Another stab wound?
What was it about Sukuna that seemed so stabbable?
“This guy we were taking out, he got a good stab in before I could shoot him.”
Megumi tsks, shaking his head. “You all need to stop taking such risks. You’re like cats playing with your food.”
It’s kind of annoying, Megumi isn’t used to being watched while he works. Sukuna had been a strange exception to that, when he had been stabbed, because Megumi wasn’t about to argue with him.
However, he’s not about to deal with Uraume staring at him without doing something helpful.
“Get me some towels and hot water.”
Uraume’s out of the room before he can finish the sentence.
It’s not that deep, and from what little Megumi knows of the human anatomy, while it’s deeper than a surface wound, it’s nothing lethal, and didn’t strike any organs. He’s going to be fine, if not with another scar.
Sukuna already has too many, Megumi is going have to learn how to give stitches like doctors do, to minimize scaring.
“Sweetheart?” Sukuna asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Sukuna’s eyes barely open, brief slits that Megumi see crimson. Gently, Megumi wipes his hands on a clean part of the already soiled sheets before he cups Sukuna’s cheek, just barely brushing his lines over his face. He looks so tired.
“Hey, hey it’s me,” Megumi reassures, “can you go back to sleep for me? It’s going to hurt. I’ll patch you up, okay?”
It’s scary, doing something like this. Sukuna might never wake up, it would probably be better for him to stay awake, but doing so brings about hours of pain, and Megumi can’t bring himself to do that.
“My perfect little doctor,” Sukuna whispers softly. “Take care of me?”
Megumi can’t really think of anything to say. He’ll do his best, sure, but he wants nothing more than to make sure Sukuna lives.
Megumi nods, leaning down to kiss Sukuna softly. The yakuza is almost unresponsive underneath him, but there’s the whisper of movement.
It’s too much of a risk. Megumi bites his bottom lip, contemplating to himself. “Maybe I should take you to the hospital…”
But Sukuna shakes his head, just the barest hint of movement from side to side. Even that small movement seems to take too much energy from him.
“You’re my doctor, aren’t you? You’ll patch me up.”
His throat tightens, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as he nodded, trying to steady him. Sukuna didn’t need a weak man to fail him now.
“Yeah,” he agrees softly. “Yeah, I’m your doctor. Can you sleep for me?”
Sukuna blinks at him once, then twice, much like a cat, and nods. Megumi waits until he’s sure his boyfriend is asleep before he starts working.
There’s so much blood, too much of it. Sukuna needs a hospital.
But he’s Sukuna’s doctor, no one’s going to be able to take care of him like Megumi can.
Sukuna wakes in darkness, his body filled with pain.
The lights aren’t off, but they’re dimmed. It’s like candlelight, soothing in its own way. He stretches slightly, only to wince as his side pulls. The skin is taught and hot, underneath where he can feel it’s bandaged.
Megumi’s resting near him, their hands entwined, truly and utterly exhausted. Blood stains the sheets around him and his clothes.
But he is there, and he is safe, and that’s really all that matters to Sukuna.
As if sensing his presence, tired green eyes blink open at him.
“Hey,” Sukuna croaks out, his throat dry. He clears it before he tries again. “How long was I out?”
Megumi rubs his eyes with his hand, sitting up and scooting closer to Sukuna. With a bit of difficulty, he moves over on the bed.
It’s soiled and ruined, Sukuna’s going to have to buy a new one. But after a moment, Megumi crawls next to him, still holding his hand and mindful of his sore side.
“A few hours,” Megumi whispers. “How’re you feeling?”
Sukuna shrugs one shoulder, only having eyes for Megumi. “I’ve been better.”
A slender hand emerges, cupping his cheek softly. They’ve managed to find their own world, with bloody sheets and sore sides, but it’s one for them and them alone.
Forest green eyes stare at him, and Sukuna never wants to lose this moment.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
Megumi moves an inch, then another, and Sukuna meets him halfway, pressing their lips together. Before he can deepen it, Megumi pushes on his chest, keeping him in place in bed.
“Oh, baby you know I love it when you take control in the bedroom,” Sukuna tries, hoping to save himself a lecture from moving.
Megumi rolls those forest green eyes. “Nice try. You can’t move for a while. You really worried me.”
Sukuna gives him an easy grin. “You’re my doctor, I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
With a scoff, Megumi pushes him back, until he can lay his head against Sukuna’s chest. Sukuna wraps an arm around a thin waist, fingers digging into a sharp hip bone.
“Yeah,” Megumi agrees, soft and easy. “I’m your doctor.”
Sukuna places a soft kiss against black hair, and thinks to himself there’s no place he’d rather be, and no one he’d rather be with.
In the small word they carved out for themselves, no one else matters.