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Yuuji wasn’t planning to save anyone today.
In fact, his big plan for the afternoon involved grabbing a pack of energy drinks from the corner store and maybe some of those discount noodles he’d been eyeing. He had a low-key day ahead. No fire academy classes, just him and his couch. Maybe a movie. There was a new release Nobara had been going on about.
At least, that was the plan.
Yuuji was halfway out the door of the store, hands full of snacks, when he heard the unmistakable crash of something collapsing just down the street. People started shouting, and he turned to see a cloud of dust billowing from a building on the corner. Bricks had tumbled, windows shattered, but it wasn’t like one of those full-on, skyscraper-doom scenarios. It was just… a chunk of the building, kind of hanging off awkwardly.
He looked down at the bag in his arms and sighed.
Well, this was no good. He couldn’t just walk home now, could he? He was a good person. He had to help.
The street was chaos. People were running around, shouting, their voices a frantic mix of panic and urgency. Someone had already pulled out their phone and was dialing for emergency services, which, fair enough. They were absolutely going to need them.
Yuuji pushed his way through the crowd, trying to get a look at the collapsed section. The building wasn’t huge – just a two-story store, its entire front wall torn away, exposing the inside like a dollhouse after a toddler got a little too aggressive. Through the gaping entrance, he could hear someone screaming.
Shit.
The smart thing to do would be to wait for the professionals. Trained firefighters, people who actually knew what they were doing. But the screams were urgent, desperate, and every second that passed without action made Yuuji’s stomach churn. Someone was trapped under there. They might not have time to wait.
And okay, Yuuji was technically a firefighter. Sort of. Kinda. Not really. He was in training, but he had only started practical exercises a week and a half ago. The extent of his hands-on experience involved controlled scenarios with instructors hovering nearby, making sure no one did anything too reckless. But there were no instructors here, no safety protocols, no one telling him what to do.
Still. He couldn't just not do something.
He took a step forward, then another. This was probably a terrible idea. But hey, what did he have to lose?
(His life, a tiny, sensible part of his brain pointed out. He could lose his life. Yuuji ignored it.)
Up close, the destruction was worse. The rubble was unstable, shifting in unsettling ways, the air thick with dust and the sharp tang of broken concrete. A couple of the bigger pieces had settled against a pillar, leaving a narrow gap – just enough space for someone very careful (or very stupid) to squeeze through.
Well. Here goes nothing.
Yuuji ducked into the opening, sucking in a breath as the bricks above him creaked ominously. He could hear the metal supports groaning, and yeah, that was not a reassuring sound.
Okay. Okay. Deep breath.
He kept his shoulders hunched, elbows close to his sides, carefully stepping deeper into the debris. The dust stung his eyes and burned his throat, making him cough.
"Hello?" he called out, trying not to sound panicked.
A voice answered, shaky and strained. "H-hello?"
Yuuji exhaled in relief.
"Are you okay?"
"I- I think so. My leg… I can’t move."
Shit.
"Hang on, I’m coming!" Yuuji picked his way through the mess, boots crunching over shattered glass and broken masonry. He tripped over something, and barely caught himself on a chunk of drywall. The structure groaned in protest, sending his heart rate skyrocketing.
He reached the man quickly. At first glance, the situation looked bad, his legs pinned beneath a heavy slab of wood, blood seeping through his jeans – but not impossible .
"Okay, I’m gonna lift this," Yuuji said, crouching down. "Tell me if anything hurts worse."
The man gave a jerky nod. Bracing himself, Yuuji wedged his hands beneath the wood and pushed. His muscles screamed in protest, but he managed to raise it a few inches, which seemed to be enough.
"Move your leg if you can!"
The man hissed in pain but managed to pull himself free. Yuuji immediately set the wood down, shaking out his aching hands.
"Anyone else inside?"
"No. Just me."
"Good," Yuuji exhaled. "Bad news: the ceiling looks about five seconds away from caving in, so we really need to move."
"Not gonna argue with you there."
Yuuji hauled him up, slinging one of the guy’s arms over his shoulder. The man was shaky, stumbling, but he stayed on his feet. The sirens were louder now, flashing lights flickering outside. Almost there.
And, honestly, Yuuji would have loved for that to be the end of it. He saves the guy, they heroically step out into the sunlight, boom—day made.
But the universe hated him.
Because just as they neared the exit, the worst sound imaginable filled the air—a deep, groaning crack.
Yuuji didn’t think. He reacted.
With all the strength he had left, he shoved the guy forward, sending him stumbling out of the gap just as the ceiling collapsed.
And, well. There went his day off.
-
When he came to, Yuuji was lying on the ground outside the building. The world felt distant, muffled, like he was underwater. His body ached all over, his head was pounding, and there was a bright light shining directly into his eyes.
Someone was hovering above him, silhouetted against the sun.
"Are you okay?" a voice asked, low and steady, cutting through the haze.
"'M fine," he mumbled automatically, which, yeah, was probably a lie, but whatever. He could feel all his limbs. His organs were probably intact. That counted for something, right?
The face above him was frowning, and it took Yuuji a moment to realize it was a guy, and not just a disembodied face floating in the sky.
"What's your name?" the guy asked.
"Itadori Yuuji."
"Alright, Itadori," the man said. "My name is Fushiguro Megumi, and I'm a paramedic."
The words barely registered. Yuuji's vision was finally clearing, the haze lifting just enough for him to actually see the face hovering over him. And–
Oh.
Oh no.
Fushiguro had the kind of face that made Yuuji's thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind. Sharp features, pale skin, and eyes so vividly green that Yuuji almost forgot where he was for a second. They weren’t just green, they were deep, stormy, like the ocean in a way Yuuji couldn’t quite describe.
Yuuji’s brain flatlined. He tried to say something, anything, but his mouth wouldn’t move. He could only lie there and stare like an idiot, trying to process the fact that this man was real, and not some weird fever dream his brain conjured up after the ceiling collapsed on him.
Fushiguro must have taken his silence for something worse than it was, because the frown on his face deepened.
"Can you tell me where you are?"
Yuuji blinked. Oh. Right. Words. He had to use those.
"Uh. Outside. Building."
Fushiguro raised a brow. "Outside what building?"
"The one that collapsed?"
"That narrows it down. What the hell were you doing in there?"
Yuuji, still coming down from his moment of gay catastrophe, blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Helping?"
Fushiguro pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that definitely wasn’t flattering.
"How about leaving the rescuing to the professionals, hm?"
Yuuji frowned. The hot paramedic was judging him.
"I am basically a professional," he argued. "I'm training to be a firefighter, you know."
Fushiguro finally looked back down at him, unimpressed. "How far are you in the program?"
"A week and a half."
"Oh, excellent," Fushiguro deadpanned. "So tell me, Mr. Almost-Firefighter, did you learn in your training that running into unstable buildings with no equipment or backup is a bad idea?"
Yuuji flushed. He had the distinct feeling that Fushiguro was the type of guy who never let things slide, and if Yuuji wasn’t in physical pain, he might have fought back a little harder. But the adrenaline was fading fast, and his body was finally registering how much it had just been through. His ribs ached, his ankle throbbed, and his head was pounding with every heartbeat.
Fushiguro knelt beside him, snapping on a pair of gloves. "You’re lucky you didn’t get crushed. Or worse."
Yuuji exhaled through his nose, a little defensive. "I saved that guy, though."
Fushiguro didn’t argue right away. His eyes flickered, jaw tightening slightly. He seemed reluctant, like he didn’t want to say what he was about to say, but eventually, he sighed.
"You did," he admitted. "By the time the firefighters got here, that section would have been a death trap. You probably saved his life."
Yuuji's cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, but the words were laced with a strange bitterness, like it physically pained him to admit it.
"But," Fushiguro continued, his eyes narrowing. "That doesn't change the fact that it was an incredibly stupid thing to do. If the beam had fallen differently, you'd be dead."
Yuuji swallowed. Fushiguro's bluntness wasn't surprising, really, given his line of work. But hearing it laid out so matter-of-factly was a bit unnerving.
"Right. Sorry."
Yuuji flinched when Fushiguro pressed gently against his side, feeling around his ribs.
"Ow, ow, ow!" Yuuji winced.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Fushiguro gave him a sharp look. "You might’ve fractured a rib. And your ankle looks bad."
Yuuji glanced down and realized his left ankle was swollen, and a bruise was already forming. It didn’t feel great, that was for sure.
"Okay, maybe I’m not in the best shape right now," Yuuji admitted, gritting his teeth as Fushiguro prodded his leg.
"Noted," Fushiguro said dryly, signaling to another paramedic nearby. "Let’s get him on the stretcher."
Yuuji sighed, his head starting to swim. It felt like the dust had finally settled in his lungs, making it hard to focus. As the paramedics moved him onto the stretcher, Yuuji clenched his eyes shut, fighting the throbbing pain radiating from his ribs and leg.
"Alright, Itadori," Fushiguro’s voice came from above him as the ambulance doors swung open. "We’re going to get you some meds for the pain. Just hang tight."
Yuuji hummed in response, keeping his eyes closed. He felt a prick on his arm, and the next thing he knew, the pain was fading, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling.
Yuuji wasn't a huge fan of drugs, especially when they made him loopy, but this wasn't too bad. His head was swimming, and his thoughts felt slow and syrupy, but at least the pain was gone.
He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in the back of an ambulance, his foot wrapped and elevated. Fushiguro was kneeling beside him, adjusting the IV line.
Yuuji blinked a few times, trying to focus on the world around him. Everything felt a little… floaty. Was that the right word? Probably not. But whatever, he was comfortable. Cozy, even.
He squinted at Fushiguro, who was carefully adjusting the IV bag with an intensely focused expression.
Yuuji blinked sluggishly, his eyes lazily tracking Fushiguro’s movements. It took him a second to remember where he was or why his body felt like it was floating on clouds.
"Fushiguro," Yuuji mumbled, blinking again as he focused on the paramedic’s face. "You’re still here."
Fushiguro gave him a flat look, adjusting something on the IV. "Yeah, Itadori. Still here. Since, you know, this is my job."
Yuuji grinned up at him, the drug-induced fog clouding his better judgment.
"You’re... really good at your job. You know that?"
Fushiguro paused, frowning down at him.
"Thanks, I guess?"
Yuuji giggled - actually giggled -and Fushiguro's brow furrowed in confusion.
"What?"
"Nothing, you're just, um." Yuuji trailed off, his hazy brain unable to come up with an appropriate adjective. "Nice. I mean, like, pretty. No, uh, handsome. Handsome. You're handsome."
Okay, so maybe he had a filter, but not one that worked under the influence of painkillers.
Fushiguro blinked a few times, looking a little bewildered. His cheeks were dusted with pink, which was cute, but then again, everything about him was cute.
"That's the pain meds talking."
Yuuji hummed, watching Fushiguro finish fiddling with the IV. "Probably."
He didn't try to hide the way his gaze drifted down, following the sharp angle of Fushiguro's cheekbones and jawline. The man was attractive, no doubt about it. If he were sober, he would have probably tried to play it off, or pretend that his attention was somewhere else, but the drugs made him feel warm and loose and comfortable, and he couldn't bring himself to care.
Fushiguro looked back at him, and Yuuji quickly flicked his eyes up.
"How are you feeling?"
Yuuji sighed happily, his gaze drifting across the back of the ambulance. It was a nice ambulance. The lights were cool, and there were a lot of machines and supplies, and also Fushiguro, who, by the way, was still very handsome.
"Really good," Yuuji said.
"No pain?"
"Nope," Yuuji popped the 'p' sound, wiggling his fingers. "Floaty. Like... a cloud."
"Like a cloud," Fushiguro echoed.
"Mhm." Yuuji let his head loll to the side. "And, hey, I got to meet you, so. Even better. Good day."
Fushiguro didn't respond, but the slight flush on his cheeks had deepened, creeping down his neck. Yuuji wanted to follow the color with his fingers, trace it across his collarbone, down his chest, see how far it would go—
And oh, okay, he was not thinking that. Well, not consciously. He was on drugs. And the drugs made him think a lot of inappropriate things about this particular paramedic.
Yuuji shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts. "Being a paramedic fits you. It's cool. Very noble."
"I didn't do it to be noble," Fushiguro muttered. "I'm not a hero."
"You saved me," Yuuji said, smiling up at him.
"Yeah, because it's my job."
"I think you're a hero. A hot hero."
A giggle escaped Yuuji's lips, and he clapped his hand over his mouth. He was supposed to be serious, and sedate, and not acting like a complete moron.
"Are you always like this when you're high?"
Yuuji grinned. "Dunno. Never been high before. Is this normal? Do people normally just go on like, gay rampages?"
Fushiguro raised a brow. "Gay rampage?"
"Well, yeah, like. Look at you. You should have a warning label or something."
"A warning label," Fushiguro deadpanned.
"Yeah," Yuuji said, nodding his head slowly. "Something like... 'Warning: contains Fushiguro Megumi, the hottest paramedic alive. If you have a weak heart or gay thoughts, please proceed with caution."
Fushiguro stared at him, uncomprehending.
"You are high as balls," he finally said.
"Hmm." Yuuji hummed. "Probably."
"Right."
Fushiguro shook his head, returning to the IV drip. Yuuji watched him through half-lidded eyes, the meds making his thoughts go sluggish and hazy.
"People usually don't get this chatty on the meds," Fushiguro said dryly, checking the readout on the monitor. "Please try not to fall asleep. We need to keep you awake for now."
"I'd love for you to keep me awake," Yuuji murmured, his lips curving into a dopey smile.
He giggled again, the sound low and almost breathless. It was kind of ridiculous, how much drugs seemed to loosen his tongue. But hey, he was pretty sure he'd be mortified by this later, so might as well have fun while he could.
Fushiguro gave him a blank look.
"It's funny because I'm gay," Yuuji explained, laughing again. "See, because I'm into dudes."
"Right," Fushiguro said, clearly unamused. "So I've gathered. And I'm very happy for you, but–"
"Aw, you're straight? Bummer."
"No," Fushiguro said flatly. "But, you're my patient, and you're currently under the influence of narcotics. It would be wildly inappropriate for me to engage in a conversation about my sexuality with you right now."
"Fair," Yuuji conceded, then squinted at him. "Wait, are you telling me that if I wasn't injured, and you weren't taking care of me, we could have a conversation about your sexuality?"
Fushiguro didn't dignify that with a response.
"Also, hypothetically, if I weren't high, and I asked you out, would you say yes?"
"Ask me after your concussion clears up."
"So that's a yes?"
"No, that's a 'you have a severe head injury and you're on a lot of drugs, so you're not making any life-altering decisions right now."
"Hmm." Yuuji blinked slowly. "That's fair."
A soft laugh escaped Fushiguro's lips. It was a nice sound. A little scratchy, maybe, like he didn't do it very often, but still pleasant. Yuuji wondered what he would have to say to hear it again.
"You're very agreeable when you're high."
"Oh, trust me, I'm never this chill. I have, like, the worst ADHD. Can't focus. My brain is a mess. So this is weird. But, I don't know, I feel kinda zen, I guess. It's nice. Also, you're distracting."
Fushiguro sighed, as if a puzzle piece had finally clicked into place.
"Do you take medication for your ADHD?"
"Yeah," Yuuji nodded. "The good stuff. But sometimes I forget, so I get distracted a lot. But right now, it's, uh. Quiet. In my head."
"That explains why you're so chatty. Most people get quiet and spacey."
Yuuji hummed, a little amused by the turn in conversation. It was nice, chatting with Fushiguro, even though he wasn't entirely sure what was going on anymore. His thoughts were starting to scatter, slipping through his grasp like water through his fingers.
"Hey, don't fall asleep," Fushiguro said, his voice sharpening.
"Hmm." Yuuji hummed sleepily, trying and failing to open his eyes.
"I need you to stay awake, Itadori."
"Mmm," Yuuji groaned. "Tired."
"Yeah, no shit," Fushiguro replied. "Okay, tell me something about yourself. Keep talking. I need to make sure you're staying alert."
Yuuji smiled at that, even as the fog descended over his mind.
"Okay. I have a cat. He's only got one eye. I named him Gege. You remind me of him, actually. You both have the same expression sometimes, like you're thinking about killing someone. I think it's cute. In like, a murderous kinda way."
Fushiguro was silent, staring at him with an unreadable expression.
"That is the strangest thing anyone has ever said to me."
Yuuji gave a sloppy shrug.
"Well, you asked."
"I did," Fushiguro agreed. "Why are you training to be a firefighter?"
"Wanted to help people. My grandpa told me I was a strong kid, that I could help others, y'know. Wanted to make him proud."
"He must be very proud of you," Fushiguro murmured.
"Wouldn't know," Yuuji said. "He died a few years ago. Cancer. Sucks."
"Yeah," Fushiguro exhaled softly. "Sorry."
Yuuji shook his head, forcing his heavy eyelids open.
"Nah, it's fine. He's in a better place now, or whatever. Probably. Or he's haunting me. Either way."
Fushiguro laughed at that, the sound startlingly sweet, and Yuuji's chest ached at the thought that he would probably never hear it again.
"What about you? How did you become a paramedic?"
Fushiguro paused, his brows drawing together slightly.
"My sister. Back in high school she got into an accident, and she was in a coma for a few months. The paramedics were incredible, and I remember thinking... they're the ones who really make a difference. Not doctors, or police, or anyone else. The ones who get there first. Who save lives in the moment, without caring if they'll be thanked. They just did their jobs, and they saved her life. So I guess I've just wanted to do that. Be the person who gets there first, and saves the people who need help."
Yuuji smiled. There was a bittersweet edge to the story, something he couldn't quite place, but the words made him feel warm and fuzzy, the same way the pain meds were.
"You're a good guy, Fushiguro," he murmured. "Maybe the best."
"I'm not," Fushiguro argued.
"Yeah, you are."
"I'm just doing my job. Anyone would have done the same."
"Maybe. But you did."
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the quiet beeping of the monitor. Fushiguro looked away, his mouth drawn tight, like the words had cost him something. Yuuji tried to sit up, but the world tilted sideways, and a wave of dizziness crashed over him. Fushiguro caught the movement, placing a hand on his shoulder and pressing him back onto the stretcher.
"Idiot, stay still," he chastised, but the words had no bite.
"Hmm, you know, I could get used to having you boss me around," Yuuji said, grinning lazily.
A red flush spread across Fushiguro's cheeks, and he coughed, clearing his throat.
"I changed my mind. You should sleep. Brain damage would be an improvement."
"That's probably not too professional," Yuuji observed.
"You're right. But so far, you've called me hot, compared me to your cat, and made several terrible innuendos, so I feel like professionalism is pretty low on the list of priorities here."
"Touché."
"I was joking, though. Please don't actually sleep."
Yuuji grinned again. This guy was funny. Really funny. The funniest.
"I won't. Don't worry. I'll be a good boy, promise."
"Oh my god," Fushiguro said, covering his face with his hands.
Yuuji laughed. The sound was light and airy, a little floaty, just like his brain. Fushiguro peeked at him from between his fingers, looking exasperated and embarrassed and, oddly enough, fond.
Yuuji didn't want this moment to end, didn't want the meds to wear off and erase the memory of that soft laugh, that pretty blush, the way Fushiguro was looking at him, like he was worth something, like he wasn't some stupid kid who didn't know how to stay out of trouble.
The ambulance slowed to a stop, jolting him back to the present. A man in scrubs slid the door open, and Yuuji squinted at the brightness, his vision a little fuzzy.
"How are we doing, Fushiguro?" the man asked, pulling a wheelchair out of the ambulance.
"22 year old male, suffered blunt force trauma to the head, possible broken ribs, and a sprained ankle," Fushiguro explained. "He's definitely dizzy. And a painkiller-induced chatterbox. Other than that, he seems to be in relatively good shape, considering."
"Well, that's reassuring," the paramedic said, chuckling. "Okay. Let's get you inside. Thanks, Fushiguro."
Yuuji's eyes drifted up to meet Fushiguro's.
"Will I see you again?" he asked, a little plaintively.
"We'll see." Fushiguro gave him a wry half-smile. "Take care of yourself, Itadori."
He was gone before Yuuji could respond, the back doors of the ambulance slamming shut.
-
The next morning, Yuuji woke up in a hospital bed, with no recollection of how he'd gotten there.
He sat up slowly, groaning as the world spun. His ankle was wrapped, and he had a dull, throbbing ache in his chest, like a bruise. The memory of last night - or was it yesterday? He had no idea how long he'd been out - came rushing back, and his face flushed when he remembered what had happened.
The door opened, and a nurse popped her head in.
"Good, you're awake," she said brightly. "Feeling okay? How's your head?"
"Um, it's fine, I think," Yuuji muttered.
She walked over to the monitor, checking the readings and jotting a few notes on a clipboard.
"Well, you're lucky. Fractured ribs, sprained ankle, mild concussion. Though the concussion should clear up pretty quickly, given your overall health."
Yuuji smiled weakly.
"Right. Yeah, great. Um. When can I leave?"
"Tomorrow, hopefully," the nurse replied, tapping something into the computer. "They'll keep you for observation overnight. We'll have a follow-up CT scan later today, just to make sure your head's in one piece. After that, we'll give you some crutches, and you should be free to go. The doctor will probably want to schedule another check-up for your ribs and ankle, but that's not a big deal. Just make sure you keep icing the ankle."
Yuuji nodded along, trying to take everything in. It was a lot, but he'd been through worse. At least the injuries weren't permanent.
"Thanks."
The nurse left, and Yuuji slumped against the pillow. The room was empty and silent, and he didn't have a phone or any kind of entertainment, so he was stuck with his thoughts, which was, frankly, terrifying.
Because, although his memories were definitely fuzzy, he was pretty sure that he'd acted like an absolute moron.
He'd hit on the paramedic who saved his life. More than once. Multiple times. In a variety of increasingly inappropriate ways.
He groaned, covering his face with his hands.
It wasn't his fault, really. He'd been injured, and drugged, and Fushiguro was, objectively, extremely attractive, so could he really be blamed for what had happened?
Probably, he thought, as a wave of mortification swept through him.
At least Fushiguro would never see him again. That was probably for the best. Yuuji had made an ass out of himself, and that was embarrassing enough. He was going to forget this entire incident ever happened, and he'd never have to face his terrible, mortifying--
"Knock, knock," a familiar voice said, and Yuuji nearly choked.
His eyes snapped open, and sure enough, there was Fushiguro Megumi, standing in the doorway, a plastic bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
"You," Yuuji blurted.
"Me," Fushiguro agreed, giving him a half-smile.
Yuuji stared at him, dumbfounded, his brain struggling to comprehend the situation.
"What are you doing here?"
Fushiguro shrugged.
"Came to check up on you. Make sure you hadn't fallen into a coma."
"But, you..." Yuuji trailed off, blinking at him. "Don't you have other patients? People to help?"
Fushiguro chuckled, a low, pleasant sound, and walked over to the side of the bed.
"My shift ended half an hour ago. I'm not here because it's my job, idiot."
"Oh."
Yuuji's mind reeled, his face warming as he replayed the conversation from last night.
"Did you... did you bring me coffee?"
"No. I brought myself coffee, because I just finished a 24-hour shift, and I'm tired as hell. But, I got you breakfast. Figured you'd probably be hungry."
"Breakfast," Yuuji repeated, the word echoing around in his brain.
Fushiguro frowned at him, and reached forward, pressing the back of his hand against Yuuji's forehead.
"Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah," Yuuji breathed. "Um. Sorry, it's just, um, this is really nice, and, um. Surprising? I didn't expect..."
He trailed off, and Fushiguro pulled back, setting the cup and bag on the table.
"Didn't expect what? That I'd come back?"
"I mean, yeah, I guess. After I, uh, acted like a complete idiot, and, y'know. Hit on you. I'm sorry about that, by the way. I wasn't, um. Thinking straight."
"Clearly," Fushiguro agreed.
He grabbed a chair, pulling it up next to the bed. Yuuji's eyes followed the movement, and he realized that, despite his exhaustion, Fushiguro was, in fact, just as attractive as he remembered. Which wasn't fair, honestly. It was like some higher power was trying to test him.
Fushiguro handed him a bagel, and Yuuji accepted it, taking a tentative bite.
"This is good," he mumbled, through a mouthful of food.
"Glad to hear it."
Yuuji swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Thank you, seriously. You didn't have to do this."
"I know."
Fushiguro was quiet after that, sipping his coffee and staring out the window. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, exactly, but Yuuji had the urge to break it, if only to hear Fushiguro's voice again.
"Do you have, um. Other plans? Like, today?"
"Yeah, gonna go home and sleep for the next 12 hours," Fushiguro replied, smiling at him. "But, I'm off tomorrow. If you need a ride home, I could swing by."
"Really?"
Yuuji blinked at him, not quite believing his ears.
"Why would you do that? You already did, um. A lot. For me."
"Because," Fushiguro said. He set his cup down, meeting Yuuji's gaze. "We gotta get you in top shape. You still need to ask me out, remember?"
"I- um." Yuuji blushed, his cheeks heating up.
"Or was that the drugs talking? Are you not actually interested?"
Fushiguro quirked a brow, a slight smile playing on his lips. He looked amused, maybe even a little flirty, and Yuuji's heart flipped.
"I'm interested," he said quickly. "Very. Um. Extremely. Super-duper."
"Oh, good. So am I. And, you're not my patient anymore, so. Asking me out would be, strictly speaking, entirely appropriate."
"Right. I- um. Right. Okay. So, would you, uh. Go out with me?"
"I will," Fushiguro murmured.
"You will," Yuuji repeated, dazed.
Fushiguro was silent again, but his eyes never left Yuuji's, and they were bright, and sparkling, and beautiful. Yuuji felt his cheeks flush, and his heart thudded in his chest, and god, he wanted to kiss Fushiguro so badly, but he'd probably get arrested for assault or something.
"You should get some rest," Fushiguro said, interrupting his train of thought.
He stood up, pushing the chair back, and Yuuji almost protested. But then Fushiguro's fingers brushed against his, and he felt a spark of electricity, like a jolt of static, and his breath hitched.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Fushiguro promised.
And then he was gone, slipping out of the room, and leaving Yuuji alone, his heart pounding, and his cheeks flushed.
-
The next day, when Yuuji woke up, the entire firehouse was standing over his bed. Not even joking. Literally the whole department, including Chief Nanami and his second-in-command, Kusakabe, were staring at him, with various expressions of amusement, exasperation, and confusion.
"Fucking idiot," Nobara said, smacking his arm. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
"Ow," Yuuji whined, rubbing the spot.
"Sorry, did that hurt?" she asked, not sounding particularly apologetic.
"Yes," Yuuji huffed.
"Well, it should. You're a fucking moron, and you deserve a lot worse. Running into a collapsed building without any gear, seriously? You're lucky you didn't die. Or, wait, actually, no, you're not. Because then, I wouldn't get to yell at you for being such an asshole. God, how could you be so reckless?"
"I was just trying to help," Yuuji muttered.
"No, you were trying to play hero. Big difference. If you weren't so goddamn stupid, maybe you'd know that."
Yuuji rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue.
"I'm sorry," he said, meeting her glare. "For worrying you."
Nobara sighed, the anger fading from her expression.
"God, Itadori. You're so annoying. I hate you so much."
"I love you too," he replied, grinning.
"Leave my brother alone, Kugisaki," Todo chimed in. "He's injured. And, it's not his fault that he's an idiot."
"It's totally his fault," Nobara argued.
"It's a little his fault," Junpei added.
"It's mostly his fault," Panda said, crossing his arms.
"Guys," Yuuji interrupted. "Please stop talking about me like I'm not here."
"We will when you stop acting like a dumbass," Nobara said, shooting him a dirty look.
His team kept arguing, and Yuuji sank into the bed, letting the noise wash over him.
He'd be lying if he said it wasn't a little comforting. He knew that, despite their harsh words, they were worried about him, and relieved that he was alive.
"What's this I hear about you flirting with a hot paramedic?" Todo asked suddenly, his expression turning sly.
"You did what?" Nobara gasped.
"Uh, nothing," Yuuji spluttered, his face heating up. "Nothing happened."
"That's not what I heard," Panda said, grinning.
Oh, shit. Yuuji forgot that he was friends with half the staff at the hospital. Of course they'd heard about his stupid, humiliating attempts to flirt with Fushiguro.
"The driver of the ambulance said that you wouldn't stop hitting on him. Said you were pretty bad at it, too."
"Wait, what did you say?" Todo interrupted, frowning.
"Nothing! Nothing. It was the pain meds, and the head injury. I was not in control of my actions, or my mouth. I can't be held accountable for anything that happened. I am a victim, and a casualty, and I did nothing wrong."
"So, is he cute?" Nobara pressed.
"Who's cute?" another voice asked.
They all turned, and Yuuji's heart stuttered, because there was Fushiguro, leaning against the doorframe, looking like some sort of angel, or deity, or something.
"Uh, hi," Yuuji croaked, his face burning.
"Hey."
Fushiguro pushed off the wall, and Yuuji's eyes followed him as he crossed the room. He stopped next to the bed, looking unfairly, unbelievably, gorgeous.
"Um," Yuuji started. "Hi. Again."
"Is this the hot paramedic?" Todo demanded.
"No, he's just another random guy who decided to hang out in my hospital room," Yuuji grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Obviously, it's the hot paramedic. And now that you've said that, I'm never going to live it down, thanks."
"You're welcome," Todo said, beaming.
Fushiguro chuckled, and the sound sent a fluttery feeling through Yuuji's chest.
"I just talked to your doctor," Fushiguro explained. "Said I could take you home, if you want."
A shocked silence descended over the room. Yuuji was painfully aware of the fact that his entire team was staring at them, watching the scene with poorly-concealed interest.
"Uh, yeah," Yuuji stammered, his voice coming out embarrassingly high-pitched. "I'd- yeah. That'd be great. Thank you."
Fushiguro nodded.
"I'll come back for you in ten."
And then he was gone, slipping out the door, and Yuuji was left alone with his gaping teammates, a rapidly-beating heart, and a thousand questions.
-
Yuuji was a mess.
He was sweaty, and gross, and a little nervous, and his hands were shaking. The ride to his apartment had been mostly quiet, and they'd chatted a little, but Yuuji was hyper-aware of the fact that he was in a small space with Fushiguro, and the man was so pretty, and smelled nice, and he'd agreed to go on a date, and that was the most surreal, unbelievable thing.
So, yeah. Yuuji was a wreck.
He hobbled into his apartment, collapsing onto the couch with a loud sigh. Fushiguro shut the door behind him, looking around with mild curiosity.
"This place is a lot cleaner than I expected," he observed.
"Hey, I'll have you know, I'm a very tidy person," Yuuji complained.
Fushiguro smiled.
"I don't doubt that. I ran into your friend, Kugisaki when I was getting your discharge papers. She didn't stop talking for three solid minutes. Said you were messy and loud, and had the attention span of a goldfish."
"Did she? Huh."
"She also said that you're kind, and selfless, and an idiot, and that I better not hurt you or else she'd break my kneecaps. Something about how her girlfriend has connections with the mob, and knows some people who know how to make a murder look like an accident."
Yuuji groaned, covering his face with his hands.
"God, that sounds like something she'd say. Sorry, she's just, uh, protective, I guess. We've been friends since high school. She got me into the whole firefighter thing. She's basically my sister."
"I see."
Fushiguro leaned against the wall, his eyes soft.
"It's nice," he said, after a moment. "Having someone like that. Family."
"Yeah. They're not actually related to me, obviously, but. I think of them as family, y'know? I love those idiots. Even when they're being embarrassing."
Fushiguro smiled again, and Yuuji's heart skipped a beat.
"Anyway," he blurted, before the conversation could turn awkward. "Thank you, again. For, um, driving me home, and everything."
"No problem."
"You can, uh, have a seat, if you want," Yuuji offered.
"I was thinking of making dinner," Fushiguro countered.
"Dinner?"
"Yeah. Do you have groceries? I don't mind cooking, but we'll need some supplies."
"Oh."
Yuuji's mind was slow to catch up, because it was still struggling to comprehend the fact that Fushiguro had driven him home, and was now standing in his living room, talking about making dinner.
"Uh, yeah. I think I have some stuff," he stammered, as his brain finally rebooted. "There should be ingredients for meatballs, at least. And maybe some rice and vegetables."
"Meatballs it is."
Fushiguro pushed off the wall, heading towards the kitchen, and Yuuji gaped at him, his heart pounding.
What the hell was happening?
-
Yuuji wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up here, sitting across from Fushiguro, who was eating meatballs and rice and vegetables, and drinking wine, and smiling, and generally looking like an actual angel, with a halo and everything.
"These are really good," Yuuji mumbled, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Better than mine."
"Glad to hear it."
"Do you cook often?"
"Sometimes. I'm not a fan of fast food."
"Me neither," Yuuji agreed.
Fushiguro took another sip of his drink, and the air in the room felt a little charged, like it was charged with electricity. It was probably just wishful thinking, or maybe he was a little delirious, but Yuuji's palms were sweaty, and the room was way too warm.
"Hey," he started, clearing his throat. "Can I, um, ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why did you, um. Why did you agree to go on a date with me?"
"Hm."
Fushiguro took his time finishing his meal, setting the utensils on the plate, and wiping his mouth. Yuuji fidgeted, his heart hammering, and tried not to squirm.
"Because," Fushiguro replied, after what felt like an eternity. "You seemed interesting. And, I think it's sweet, that you put your life on the line for strangers, and try to save as many people as possible. You're brave, and reckless, and impulsive, and a little bit of an idiot. But, in a good way. In a... charming, kind of way. I like that."
"Oh," Yuuji breathed, his cheeks warming.
"Besides," Fushiguro continued, smiling faintly. "I'd have to be a fool to say no. You're hot, and sweet, and I can't remember the last time someone flirted with me. Even if it was mostly the drugs."
"Oh," Yuuji repeated.
His heart was pounding so hard that he thought it might actually beat right out of his chest. Fushiguro was staring at him, his gaze intense and piercing, and Yuuji couldn't breathe. He opened his mouth, and shut it again, and swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat.
"Can I ask you something now?" Fushiguro murmured, his eyes dropping down, to stare at Yuuji's mouth.
"Yes," Yuuji gasped.
Fushiguro set his wine glass on the table, and pushed out of his chair, walking over to stand next to Yuuji. He reached out, his hand cupping Yuuji's cheek, and brushed his thumb over his lower lip, the touch sending a thrill through him.
"Are you feeling well enough to do this?"
Yuuji didn't answer.
Instead, he stood up, took a step forward, and--
Fell right over.
Because, he'd forgotten that his leg was still healing, and apparently, he was not, in fact, well enough to do anything, especially not stand up or kiss pretty paramedics.
Before he could hit the ground, though, a pair of strong arms caught him, and then Fushiguro was laughing, the sound clear and bright, and a little breathless, and so goddamn beautiful.
"Idiot," Fushiguro mumbled.
"I was going for smooth, actually," Yuuji said, trying not to pout.
"Mhm. Sure you were. How about we try this again, hm? This time, sit down."
Fushiguro guided him back into his chair, his expression amused.
"Stay," he commanded.
Yuuji stayed, because there was no way in hell he was risking a repeat performance.
Fushiguro moved closer, reaching up, and threading his fingers through Yuuji's hair. He leaned down, pressing their lips together, and Yuuji made a soft, contented noise, his eyes fluttering shut.
Kissing Fushiguro was... a lot.
His lips were warm and soft, and he tasted like wine, and the scent of his cologne filled Yuuji's nose, making him dizzy. Fushiguro kissed him slowly, carefully, his hands sliding down, to rest against the nape of his neck. Yuuji made another soft sound, his heart pounding, and pressed closer, chasing the kiss.
"You're cute," Fushiguro murmured.
"Mm. No. You."
Fushiguro snorted, and kissed him again. Yuuji could feel his lips curling into a smile, and god, that was even better. He lifted a hand, and tangled his fingers into Fushiguro's shirt, pulling him closer.
"Hey," Fushiguro mumbled, against his mouth. "If you keep doing that, I'm gonna fall on top of you."
"That's okay."
Fushiguro pulled back, and Yuuji's eyes flew open. He frowned, because, no, why was the kissing over, he wasn't done yet, and he definitely didn't consent to that.
"Don't pout," Fushiguro warned. "I'm just trying to be considerate."
"You don't need to be considerate," Yuuji complained.
"No?"
Fushiguro quirked a brow, his expression skeptical, and Yuuji nodded eagerly.
"Nope. Not at all. Please. Um. Feel free to be as inconsiderate as you want."
Fushiguro laughed, the sound filling the room, and Yuuji blushed, his face turning bright red.
"Sorry," he mumbled, embarrassed.
"No, it's—god. You're so cute."
Fushiguro leaned forward, his hands moving down, to rest on Yuuji's shoulders. He pressed a light kiss to his forehead, and another to the tip of his nose, and then his mouth, soft and sweet, and Yuuji sighed happily, letting his eyes flutter shut.
"Can we take this to the couch, at least?" Fushiguro mumbled.
"Yes. Good idea. Please."
Yuuji scrambled up, and grabbed Fushiguro's hand, tugging him towards the living room. His leg was still throbbing, and he was moving kind of slow, but he could feel Fushiguro's pulse, thrumming under his skin, and that was so distracting, he could barely think straight.
He collapsed onto the couch, pulling Fushiguro down with him, and buried his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne. He was still dizzy, and a little drunk on the taste of Fushiguro's mouth, and the smell of his skin.
"Hey," Fushiguro murmured.
He reached down, tilting Yuuji's chin up, and leaned in, brushing their lips together.
"Hi," Yuuji whispered.
"This is a lot of excitement for an injured person," Fushiguro commented, as Yuuji pulled him close.
"Well, I have a hot paramedic in my house. What am I supposed to do? Sit around and knit? No thanks. I'd much rather make out."
Fushiguro grinned.
"Well, as your paramedic, I can't exactly condone that sort of behavior."
"Mhm."
"You should probably take it easy," Fushiguro continued, leaning down, and pressing a kiss to the edge of Yuuji's mouth. "Get some rest."
"I can rest later," Yuuji promised.
He slid his hands into Fushiguro's silky hair, and tugged him down, and their mouths collided in a kiss.
Later.
He'd rest later.
For now, he was a little busy.