Archive of Our Own ^beta

Gojo had a dream ever since he was little: To own a flower shop. He’d always loved flowers, the language of them fascinated him. Flowers made people feel. Nostalgia, love, and yearning. There is a flower for everything and could be given for plenty of occasions. Mother's Day, anniversary, birthdays- or as an apology to your spouse for forgetting their birthday. White lilies often signify innocence and sympathy. While sunflowers meant loyalty and adoration. Forget-me-nots were a wish to 'remember someone forever.'  Nearly every sentiment can be expressed by flowers. It’s been said that “flowers are a perfect replica of human life: Planting, growth, bloom, and withering.”

Along with the goal of owning a flower shop, he also had a vision. He knew exactly what he wanted it to look like. It needed the right kind of ambiance. So, after he graduated from university with a degree in business, he took the entirety of his childhood savings from his allowances and birthday presents of straight cash (because his parents never put in the effort to actually get him a gift) then set off to find the perfect place.

And he finds it. The location is a part of a small little shopping strip in a busy part of town, and it’s connected to an herbal shop run by the sweetest old man. It’s a wonderful space and Gojo can picture everything the moment he walks in. He buys it, paying cash to a property manager bewildered by the wad of bills shoved her way. Usually the spaces are leased but- She'd make an exception for a ‘Gojo.’ Now, he didn’t typically use his family name to gain advantage, but this was a special circumstance.

With the space obtained, Gojo was one step closer to his perfect flower shop. He went on a shopping spree for decorations, purchased a nursery for the flowers and in no time, his pastel dream flower shop was achieved.

Everyone that walks inside feels like they’re transported to some fairytale garden. It’s the talk of the town for a while and business was blooming. Due to the great location, fantastic interior design and attractive owner who always turns up the charm on every customer- Gojo's flower shop, aptly named Blue Dandelion, was a staple for anyone that needed flowers around town.

Gojo ended up hiring some assistants to help him out in the shop after a few months of doing it himself. There was  just too much to do, customers to take care of, phones to answer, orders to fill. He needed a helping hand. That came in the form of an assistant manager by the name of Yuuta. A distant cousin of his that wanted even less to do with their family than Gojo did. Yuuta was a bright young man. Extremely loyal and a quick learner. Easily taking in Gojo’s lectures about flowers, absorbing all of the information like a sponge. Besides Yuuta, he added a few part-time high school students who could be of use during peak periods.

Now, years later, his business is still flourishing. But... There’s only one problem.

The sweet old man who ran the herbal shop connected to Gojo’s flower shop is retiring. He’s closing shop and heading off to his beach house in Okinawa with his wife. Which is great! The old guy needed to relax in his old age. Gojo was happy for him. What he isn’t happy about is what moved in place of the herbal shop.

A tattoo parlor.

And not just any tattoo parlor, the tackiest one that Gojo’s ever seen. Really, red and black decorations? Skulls? Spikes? How cliche. Gojo can just picture every scary biker looking person that probably works there. The owner probably looked like that villain from the movie Pinhead- You know... Pinhead. All of it was killing the vibe of his pretty pastel, fairy garden flower shop.

It also had the dumbest name. Uzumaki. Like okay, why would anyone name a tattoo parlor after an anime ninja? The name of Gojo’s shop made sense. Blue Dandelion. Taking the blue in ‘blue spring’ meaning the best time of someone's life (also the color of Gojo’s eyes but that is besides the point) and dandelion which had several meanings. Besides their ability to thrive in challenging conditions or their representation of growth from turning from a yellow flower into delicate, wispy seed heads. Dandelions have been associated with the granting of desires. Folklore suggests that when you blow on a dandelion puff, your dreams and wishes will be carried on the wind, eventually coming true. This enchanting belief has made dandelions a symbol of hope and the power to manifest a person’s deepest desires. A perfect name for Gojo’s dream.

Gojo pretends like he isn’t curious, even though he definitely is. He was nosy, like the vacuuming-your-lawn-while-your-neighbors-fight kind of nosy. He loved drama- When it didn’t include him. He just really wanted to see what kind of person would own such terrible decor. Like... There was a European knight’s suit of armor in the lobby. Come on now. That’s just tacky.

Of course, curiosity gets the best of Gojo. Especially when he realizes the tattoo shop is popular. Really popular. Apparently, the girlfriend of one of his regulars goes there to get her ink done. The owner- Who's name is Goto? Gojo isn’t sure. Something similar to his. Whatever, Gojo didn’t care. But apparently this guy is ‘so nice’ and ‘very talented’ and ‘ridiculously good-looking.’ Yeah, okay. Gojo would be the judge of that.

Unable to keep away, Gojo leaves the flower shop in the very capable hands of Yuuta, who gives him a large disappointed sounding sigh as a goodbye, and heads over to the tattoo parlor in the guise of a walk-in customer. Now, Gojo had zero desire to get a piercing or tattoo. Needles? No thank you. He’d rather not. He’s never been interested in any of that but he can pretend like he does.

He puts on his sunglasses- Like that was any kind of disguise. He was a 193cm albino with blue eyes in Japan. Sunglasses weren’t going to cut it but he thinks it’s enough for his little reconnaissance mission to the tattoo parlor. Like any of the weirdos working there would recognize him. Why would they pay attention to him and his pretty pastel flower shop?

The small reception area of the tattoo parlor is oddly empty when Gojo walks through the door, a soft ding signifying his entrance. He observes the well-kept area until his eyes land on the suit of armor, then he stares at it like it’s done him grievance.

“Hey, sorry, we’re closed right now-” A melodic voice calls from the back. A short, quiet gasp slips out of Gojo’s mouth when he hears the voice, it sounds like caramel tastes. Which is smooth, sweet and delicious- Actually, wait… Closed? He turns to check the hours on the door. Oh. They are closed. Opens in about half an hour. He didn’t realize tattoo parlors opened so late in the day. Makes sense though, not like he’s an expert on the subject. He knew flowers, after all.

“I can help you if you need to make an appointment.” The voice says, sounding like it was coming closer until a man walks out from the tacky beaded curtain. Gojo’s breath catches in his throat, almost choking when his eyes land on the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life. Holy shit. Gojo didn’t know he had a type until now. And it’s this guy. Whoever he is. Tall, long dark hair pulled up and away from his handsome angular face. He looked broad too- Wide frame with enough muscles that made it seem like he could easily throw Gojo over his shoulder… Or against a wall. His eyes are the loveliest shade of brown, like the color of honey. A stud dots his left eyebrow and right nostril while dark gauges stretch his ears. Tattoos run up and down every delectable inch of skin that Gojo can see.

Oh. Yeah, Gojo never cared about tattoos and piercings on a person before, but the man in front of him is really swaying his stance on that. This guy looked like he would be stepping into every one of Gojo’s wet dreams for the foreseeable future. Blue eyes behind dark glasses take their time to travel up and down this man’s figure, taking in every inch of it before they settle around the man’s groin. He wonders... How big this guy’s dick is. God, Gojo hasn’t been laid in forever. He’s been too busy with the shop and now the hottest man he’s ever seen is right here- Gojo swallows hard, saliva pooling in his mouth threatening to drip out. He can’t drool in front of this hot guy!

“Uh,” Gojo mumbles dumbly, eyes trained on the other man. The guy raises an eyebrow as he leans nonchalantly against the reception desk. Which made him look even hotter. Gojo curses himself as he stutters a bit, a momentary lapse in his original goal.

“Need to make an appointment, sweetheart?” The petname flusters Gojo a bit and he immediately says, "no-”

“No?” A short blink of surprise.

“I mean, yes!” The other man’s mouth ticks up in a smile.

“But, I only want the owner to do it. Are they around?” The hot tattoo guy leans his handsome face on an upturned palm and regards Gojo with a bemused look.

“Looking at him, babydoll.” Gojo’s nose wrinkles at the petname.

“Don’t like that one?” The question is accompanied with a low chuckle. Gojo’s nose wrinkles further. No. He really did not like that one. ‘Babydoll’ just didn’t have his heart speeding up like ‘sweetheart’ did. Gojo really had never been one for petnames either but... This guy calling him ‘sweetheart’ kind of did something for him.

“Hm, kay. ‘Sweetheart’ it is then...” The other man trails off, regarding him for a moment.

“Actually, I think ‘dandelion’ suits you better.” It’s said softly and Gojo barely hears it but his thoughts come screeching to a halt. Oh. Oh. That’s much better than ‘sweetheart.’ Like his shop. The name causes Gojo to feel all warm and tingling. He basks in the feeling for a moment, a slow smile playing on his lips until he realizes that... “Wait. You’re the owner?”

“The one and only. Geto Suguru.” Gojo’s mouth drops slack. Of course, the hottest man he’s ever seen in his life has to be his arch nemesis. Gojo just went through his own personal ‘lovers to enemies’ trope. He and hot-tattoo-guy... Or Geto (he was close with Goto) could have had a beautiful life together- They could have moved into a cute one-bedroom cottage with a lovely garden and adopted some mutt with a sad backstory from the pound. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

“So, what do you want done? Tattoo? Piercing?” Geto makes a point to blatantly divert his gaze to Gojo’s chest and then to his groin. Then he looks back up with a smirk. Gojo didn’t really get the implication but he definitely wasn’t going to fake getting a piercing done.

“Tattoo but- Uh-” Gojo scrambles for something to say.

“I don’t know what I want.” Well, he did. He didn’t want anything but this could bide his time a bit. He probably should have more of a plan but he really didn’t expect to immediately come across the owner. He thought he’d chat up a receptionist and possibly get some dirty details about the place. Like maybe this place is really just a front for a huge money laundering scheme. Gojo knew a lot about those, three of his uncles and four of his cousins got caught in one.

“First tattoo?” Gojo nods.

“Small then, something you can handle.” The way he looks at him has Gojo bristling. Like he was weak or something.

“I can handle a big one!” The smirk that curls along Geto’s mouth makes Gojo want to punch him (and also kiss him... Because he looks really hot smirking.)

“Oh, I bet you can.” It’s said with equal amounts of insinuation and condescension.

“You as-” Gojo screws up his mouth quickly before the insult fully flies out of it. He politely coughs into his hand and refocuses himself. He’s trying to get intel. He’s trying to see what makes this guy tick so he can use everything against Geto to move his ugly shop.

“Me as?” Geto urges, obviously provoking Gojo.

“You as well-” Geto’s face twitches, like he almost laughed but he schools his expression quickly.

“Because of your sleeves.” Gojo gestures to the inked skin of Geto’s muscled arms.

“Uh huh…” It’s drawled out slowly but Geto doesn’t call Gojo on his bullshit. Instead he shifts the focus back to this tattoo Gojo was (fake) getting.

“Infinity symbol would suit you.” Gojo almost says something about that being a little basic. Doesn’t everyone have an infinity symbol? He doesn’t say anything though. It’s not like he’s actually getting it done.

“In blue. For your eyes.” Gojo’s sunglasses ironically slip down his nose as his mouth falls open. His shades are pretty opaque, how did Geto see that his eyes are blue? Maybe he caught a side view of them when Gojo turned his head or something.

“Though... I think it might be hard to get the color right.” Their eyes are locked even as Geto reaches forward and pushes the glasses up the bridge of Gojo’s nose.

“Really? I heard you were good.” Gojo clicks his tongue against his teeth petulantly. He thinks that will get a rise out of the other man but he remains cool, calm and collected. The sharpness of Geto’s smile isn’t provocation. It has a primal heat in it, intense and sexually charged.

“Oh, baby, I am the best.” Gojo curses himself when his breath hitches at the words.

“You’ll see.” Gojo ends up walking away with an appointment for the next day to get an infinity symbol in blue on his hip. At first he didn’t know where he’d want to pretend to get it done but just said the first thing that came to mind- Geto implied that it was a painful area since it is close to the bone, that maybe he’d want to try something easier. It was obviously a challenge so Gojo took it.

“See you later, dandelion.” Geto calls out, tone mirthful, just as Gojo walks out of the shop door. Gojo turns back to him with a fake smile and a wave before he high-tails it out of there. The smile turns into a malicious grin as he walks away. He’d get Geto to close up shop in a week.

🌷🌻🌼🌹

His plan the next day is simple. He’d go in for the tattoo and annoy the living shit out of Geto. Since he isn’t going to actually get the tattoo, he’ll act like he keeps changing his mind about getting it done. He’ll have Geto set up everything and they’ll almost start but then Gojo will change his mind, whine or complain and make Geto stop. Then do it again and again and again. Effectively driving Geto crazy. So much that he blows up at him! Then Gojo will... Write a bad review! Yelling at your customers makes you lose customers, right? He tells all of this to Yuuta who levels him with a flat look and tells him that he doesn’t think that’s a very good idea.

But what does Yuuta know? He’s barely out of high school (he’s twenty-four).

It’s halfway through the day when Gojo hears the cute chime of his shop door. He had sent the part-timer home early while Yuuta made deliveries, so Gojo was the only one around to manage the store. It was the shop’s first customer in hours so Gojo springs into his brightest smile and cheeriest ‘hello, how can I help you,’ excited to finally talk to another person. He almost chokes when he sees Geto Suguru saunter into the shop.

“Yo, Satoru.” The other man purrs out his name as lifts up an arm to greet him, a pleasant smile that Gojo wanted to roundhouse kick off of his face. Maybe also lick his mouth or something. It also registers in his mind that this is the first time Geto had called Gojo by his actual name and not some petname. In such a way that Gojo, himself, has never heard his name said before. The roll of Geto’s tongue while saying it has Gojo’s heart stutters a bit in his chest. He promptly ignores the feeling.

“What are you doing here?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound so accusing. Geto just looks amused.

“A guy can’t come buy a flower?” Gojo’s eyes narrow at that. Why would he want to buy flowers?

“Thought I’d also see how you’re feeling-” To Gojo’s obvious confusion he goes, “About the tattoo?”

“Fine. Why would I be worried?” Why would he be worried since he actually wasn’t going to get one. Not that Geto knew that so, yeah, he’ll just play along.

“Kind of scary for some people, nothing to be ashamed over.” Geto smiles at him. It’s warm and kind, the type of smile that Gojo would usually melt at. But this is his nemesis, he did no melting. Or... Well. He pretended he wasn't melting.

“Well, I’m not scared.” It comes out a bit more biting than he means to. Geto holds his hands up in mock surrender but it still looks like he doesn’t fully believe him. What a jerk.

Then it’s quiet for a moment.

“...You knew it was me?” Gojo asks. He’s referring to yesterday, Geto hadn’t said anything about knowing he owned the shop next door. Zero instance of any realization or acknowledgment.

“The minute I laid eyes on you. Kind of hard not to notice you.” Geto’s voice is so soft it kind of makes Gojo a little queasy. Why’d he have to sound like that? Why did he sound like that?

“I’ve seen you saying goodbye to some customers in the parking lot. When you help them take big orders to the car.” It’s a fair explanation. But why didn’t Gojo notice him if he was watching? Was he hiding away somewhere, watching Gojo from afar? He would have noticed if an attractive man like Geto was just standing outside their shops. Or, Gojo should have been able to feel the presence of his arch nemesis. Definitely that one.

“Sounds like you’re stalking me, Suguru.” The name on his tongue feels familiar even though he’s never said it out loud before. Slipping out of his mouth like he’s said it thousands upon thousands of times. Geto looks off, face a little somber and not matching Gojo’s teasing energy.

“Hm, maybe it’s that you just didn’t notice me.” He sounds... Kind of sad. A bouquet of questions blooms inside Gojo’s mind as to the reason behind it. Really, though, why should it matter to him that Geto sounds sad? They’re supposed to be enemies. So he pivots to a safer option.

“You said you wanted flowers? For your wife?” He knows Geto isn’t married. He checked for a ring. Several times.

“Don’t have a wife.” Gojo tries his best not to perk up. Of course, this loser isn’t married. Well, neither is Gojo but that’s by choice. He just hasn’t found the right person yet.

“Girlfriend then?” Gojo prods, forced aloofness to his tone.

“Nope.” He puts an emphasized pop on the ‘p.’

“...Boyfriend?” Gojo’s eyes shift away for a moment as he slowly asks.

“Hm, if I’m lucky.” Geto says wistfully. If Geto wasn’t his nemesis then he’d totally be jealous right now of whoever had caught the other man’s eye. So yeah, the way his hands clench and teeth grit aren’t because of jealousy. Not at all.

“So, you have any red tulips?” Of course Gojo had tulips. This was the best flower shop around. Not a flower they didn’t have. Iris, alstroemeria, roses, sunflowers, bluebells. You name it, Gojo’s got it. He even kept a small bundle of birds of paradise, though they had very specific conditions to thrive, their tropical nature can make them a bit fussy. There is no doubt Gojo had a typically popular choice like a tulip. What did Geto take him for? He scoffs before asking the other man how many.

“Just one.” Gojo throws him a look. One? He rings it up and Geto swipes his beat up debit card.

“I have a feeling that you aren’t getting lucky if you just want one flower.” Red tulips are a universal symbol of true love, passion, and romance. They are often chosen to express strong romantic feelings, deep affection, and desire, making them a thoughtful gift for a significant other on occasions like Valentine's Day or an anniversary. The color's intensity reflects the fervor of genuine love. Gojo always suggested them instead of roses. But just one of them?

“I’ll take my chances.” Gojo shrugs before going to retrieve the flower.

“Here’s your one tulip.” Geto murmurs a quiet thanks as he picks up the flower by the stem and twirls it slowly between his fingers.

“Did you know that there’s a Persian story of a prince named Farhad, that after the love of his life Shirin died, he rode his horse off a cliff in grief. Red tulips bloomed from the blood spilled, symbolizing his unending devotion and passion for his lover.” Gojo blinks, a little stunned by the story. He knew quite a few stories behind the meanings of flowers but he didn’t know about that particular one. Strange that Geto did.

“I’m sure you do know the romantic symbolism of red tulips-” Gojo scoffs out a quiet ‘duh.’ Geto smiles at the reaction.

“But in addition to that... Red tulips can also emblem courage, strength, and resilience.” Geto leans in close, eyes locking with Gojo as he does so. Gojo sucks in a breath, harsh and fast, eyes flicking down to Geto’s lips momentarily. The black-haired man reaches forward and slips the stem of the tulip behind Gojo’s ear, so it perches there delicately then pulls back to stand at full height.

“A tulip and a dandelion-” Geto chuckles to himself at the observation. Gojo blinks, his hand coming up to lightly touch the flower decorating his ear.

“For you-” Geto nods to the flower tucked behind Gojo’s ear.

“Courage for the tattoo today. Even though you definitely aren’t scared.” Gojo’s mouth falls open in shock as he feels his cheeks heat into a blush. Geto winks at him before giving him a small little wave.

“See you later, dandelion.” He says before heading out of the shop. Leaving Gojo there to stammer after him with flushed cheeks and ears, stomach feeling weightless at the newest petname from Geto.

It’s an exchange Gojo thinks about the rest of the day. Nothing can take his mind off of it. Yuuta eyes him with suspicion whenever he gets back from making deliveries. Gojo doesn't say a word about the exchange between him and Geto. Yuuta’s stance on the matter was to just leave the tattoo place and its owner alone. Obviously, Gojo cannot do that.

He wants to throw the flower away but he can’t bring himself to do so. It’s not the flower’s fault Geto is as infuriating as he is attractive. He also doesn’t stick it back with the other tulips... Because that could make it sad. To be given as a gift and then put back with the others? Gojo just couldn’t do it. Instead he finds it a little glass and sits it on his desk so he can stare at it instead of doing order forms.

Once it’s time to close. He closes quickly and heads over to the tattoo shop. He hears a disappointed sigh from Yuuta as he breaches the entrance way to the shop. He rolls his eyes, Yuuta could be such a downer sometimes. If he wasn’t in a time crunch, he’d stop and tease the younger man but his appointment is right after the flower shop closes. He isn’t going to be late and give Geto to hold over him.. The other man is waiting for him in the lobby... Once again it’s oddly empty.

“Just us today, I’ll be able to give you all my attention.” It’s said in a way that has Gojo’s stomach flipping. The retort he had ready dying on his tongue at the soft, lovely smile that Geto gives him. Kind amber eyes looking like honey, warm and sweet. He’s too focused on how his heart speeds up and his hands feel clammy to realize he’s being ushered to the back. Feeling dazed as he’s guided into a chair, only snapping to attention when Geto reaches over to pull up his shirt to get to the area he’s going to prep for the tattoo.

“W-wait-” He places a hand on Geto’s to stop him... He observes that their hands were almost the same size... Both with wide palms with long fingers, maybe Geto’s were just a bit thicker. His skin is soft, oddly enough.

“Scared?” Geto asks and it doesn’t sound patronizing at all. It’s all soft and gentle and it has Gojo feeling soupy.

“I can hold your hand,” Geto offers. He holds out his hand for Gojo to take. Without much thought about it, Gojo reaches out and intertwines their fingers together. The warm weight of Geto’s hand helped him feel balanced. Geto smiles at him before proceeding to pull his shirt up. It settles at Gojo’s navel, revealing a toned lower abdomen. Geto’s eyes linger a little longer than professionally necessary.

In no time, Gojo’s skin is prepped and the stencil is on. Gojo can only nod dumbly to every question Geto asks, fully focused on the skin to skin contact from their interlocked hands. Geto leans over him with a tattoo gun in hand informs him that it might sting. Then, he starts.

Yeah. It does sting. A painful, sharp feeling that has Gojo sucking in a breath and jerking. Geto holds him down with the pressure of his forearm, pressing into him to keep him still. He coos at Gojo softly. Telling him that he can take it. Just a little longer. He’s doing so good. The praise helps, gets him to relax until it’s just a small ache and Geto’s pulling back with a smile.

“Finished.” He says with a squeeze of Gojo’s hand.  He slips his fingers away so he can move away to wash his hands. He’s back in no time to clean the tattoo before carefully putting the film over it. Gojo looks down at it. Right under his hipbone, delicately sits an infinity symbol. In a blue that looks exactly like Gojo’s eyes. The color match was uncanny.

“Oh wow...” Gojo doesn’t even mean to say. It’s such a lovely, vibrant color contrasting against the reddened, irritated skin.

“Told you I’m the best.” Geto proceeds to roll Gojo’s shirt down and help him out of the chair. He drones on for a long, boring while about tattoo care. Even goes so far as to handing Gojo some supplies. He pauses when he sees the look on the white-haired man’s face.

“So, I have to take care of it?” His nose crinkles. He didn’t want to do that.

“Yeah, what-” Geto stops himself, looking thoughtful and then says, “I can do it for you.” Gojo gives him a suspicious look that he merely shrugs in response to.

“Come over every day after you close up shop and I’ll apply everything for you.” A kind offer. Maybe a little too kind. That wasn’t typical of tattoo artists, right? At least, Gojo didn’t think it was.

“Really?” Gojo says skeptically.

“Promise.” Now, Gojo could do it himself. Take care of a tattoo? Easy. But why do that himself when Geto is offering? So, he agrees. Also gave him an excuse to move forward with his plan. Whatever that is... He’s kind of lost sight of it. Sure, he had a goal of getting rid of Geto’s tacky tattoo parlor but, right in this moment, it seemed very far away and maybe a little unattainable.

Gojo waits as Geto cleans up his tools and locks up the shop, yammering about this or that while the other man works. Geto obliges him the entire time, always answering his question or making a comment so it didn’t just seem like Gojo was talking to himself. It was nice... He felt like Geto was actually listening, especially with his thoughtful responses.

They make their way outside, the temperatures drop a bit and the wind is a bit chilly so Geto offers Gojo his jacket. It looks lovingly worn with its cracked leather. Geto helps it onto him with a content smile. Gojo begrudgingly murmurs a ‘thank you.’

“This is me,” Geto says, motioning to a motorcycle parked one spot over from Gojo’s car. He rides a motorcycle? Gojo’s already jumbled thoughts get even more derailed. Hot Geto Suguru with piercings and tattoos rides a motorcycle? Why couldn’t he drive a damn Prius? Or a mom van! Anything to make him look dumb.

However, Gojo is afraid that Geto could even make the Prius look cool. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, pouty. Geto throws his leg over the bike in a fluid motion, straddling it with strong, muscled thighs. Which looked so hot. Gojo’s going to think about that one all night. And probably tomorrow and maybe the rest of the week.

“Get home safe?” Gojo just nods instead of verbally answering. He couldn’t trust his voice right now. Not around... All of that. Geto smiles at him, warm and kind.

“See you tomorrow, dandelion.” Geto says softly before he revs the engine and takes off. Leaving Gojo to stare after him. It takes a moment before Gojo realizes two things. He still has Geto’s leather jacket on even though the other man needed it more than him and...

He actually got the damn tattoo.

🌷🌼🌻🌹

Gojo had every intention to give the jacket back the next day. He really did. He even wore it to the store, so he'd remember it. Yuuta gave him a questioning look at the very out-of-place article of apparel on him. The cracked leather looked a tad bit out of place on top of Gojo's white slacks and pastel blue sweater. 

So, yeah, he had the plan to give it back at the end of the day when he goes over for his tattoo care after he closes up Blue Dandelion for the day. Except Geto makes a surprise visit earlier in the day. Gojo's coming out of the back with a stack of order forms he's going to have one of his part-timers pack up when clock in a few hours when Yuuta stops him.

"Geto is here to see you." Yuuta informs him, a gloomy look on his face. Which is a norm for the young man. Gojo blinks, "what?"

"He's by the primrose." Yuuta says it like it's completely normal and nothing is wrong. For some reason, Gojo panicked. He shoves the forms at Yuuta and quickly shrugs off the jacket he still has on. It's cold in his office so he was wearing it. The jacket gets shoved under the register before Geto decides to wander away from the primroses to see it. Yuuta watches him with mild confusion and opens his mouth like he's going to say something. He pauses and then closes it like he thought better of it. He motions to the haphazard stack of order forms in his hands

"I'll sort these." Gojo nods even though he doesn't fully register his words. His mind races. Why was Geto here? The easiest assumption would be to retrieve the jacket he graciously loaned Gojo last night. The white-haired man sneaks a glance to the desk the register sits on, where the jacket is stuck into one of the shelves next to the receipt paper. Even though he had all the intentions of giving it back and this would be the perfect time- He doesn't want to. Not yet. Maybe he could lie and tell Geto he left it at home if he mentions it.

Geto throws him an easy smile as Gojo approaches. The white-haired man tries to remain nonchalant, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall next to the flowers on display.

"Do primroses really mean longing?" Geto asks as he observes the various colors, eyeing the Japanese Primrose with particular interest. Gojo liked that one a lot, too. It flourishes in spots where another plant would drown. It bears an exotic five or six tiered candelabra of flowers. Some even look like they have been dusted in silver. 

"Depends" Flowers had a lot of meanings, even one specific flower. Sometimes the meanings even change over time. Typically, a primrose means youth, new beginnings and innocence.

"Red primroses symbolize passion, young love and longing." Geto watches him with an open expression as he lists off everything, a thoughtful look on his face like he was actually trying to absorb the information. Usually people listen to this type of thing as 'in one ear and out the other.'

"In Victorian flower language they mean 'I can't live without you.' While the Japanese primrose-" He points to the one Geto's been looking at.

"Generally, it means 'desire' or being desperate for love." That basically aligned with the sentiment of intense longing in Gojo's opinion. The black-haired man hums in a reflective manner.

"Maybe I should get some." Gojo gives him a look. 

"More flowers for your non-existent significant other?" He asks, teasing. Geto grins at him.

"Remember, I'll have an actual significant other if I'm lucky." Gojo got the last flower Geto bought so- Who was he planning on buying this one for. Blue eyes shift around to the different primroses. Maybe he should have lied about the meanings of them. Told Geto to get something else, something this person might be allergic to, so they'd want to refuse Geto when he asks them out. That could affect the Tattoo Shop... Right? In some kind of convoluted way. Geto would be sad and maybe neglect it so much he'll go out of business.

"Anyway," Geto says after a dash of silence.

"I'm just here to remind you to come in for your tattoo care after you close shop." Gojo rolls his eyes. 

"I remember. You could have just texted me." Geto gives him a look, like he thinks Gojo is precious but also a little bit dumb. He bristles. 

"That would require me to have your phone number." Gojo blinks. Oh, well... Okay. Geto's got him there. They haven't exchanged numbers. Is it okay to have your nemesis' phone number? Now, he isn't sure how it would help him, but he wants it anyway. 

"Do you... Want it?" Geto quirks an eyebrow.

"My phone number. To make it easier to remind me. I'm busy so, you know, I might forget." That's a pretty good save. Not like Gojo should need to keep track of it himself. Geto offered to do it for him, so he should remind him about it too. It's only fair.

"Of course, as the artist of your first tattoo it's my job to remind you about the care." Gojo can tell he's being sarcastic even though he's handing over his old ass Samsung phone that's definitely seen better days. Gojo swipes it and types his number in, saving it with his name paired with a sunflower emoji. The phone gets handed back. Geto smiles when he sees the contact.

Gojo's phone goes off, ringtone some current pop song he's had stuck in his head for weeks. He digs it out of his pocket. 

"That's mine. Make sure to save it." Gojo scoffs at being told to do what he was planning on anyways. He saves the number under 'Tacky Tattoo Shop Guy,' holding back a chuckle at his choice before he pockets his phone again. 

"Well then, I'll be off. Gotta go set up shop." He shoves his hands in his pockets and gestures to the door with a shrug of a shoulder.

"See you later, dandelion." Gojo can feel the flush on his cheeks but it's cold so- Obviously that's what it's from instead of Geto being dumbly-charming and stupidly-handsome.

"Yeah, yeah." Gojo waves him off as he follows him to the front of the store. Geto pauses as he grabs the handle of the door, turning back to Gojo with a cheeky smile.

"It's cold outside, remember to wear my jacket over so you don't get sick." Then he leaves Gojo staring after him, slack jawed. Did... Did Geto see him in the jacket earlier? How else would he know he had it today? Gojo thinks the other man will ask for it back after they do the aftercare for the tattoo later that day. Except it never comes. Geto's eyes only sweep over it with an unconcerned gaze but doesn't say a word about it. Even when Gojo leaves with it on.

Gojo makes sure to wear it as much as possible after that, to see if Geto will ever ask for it back. He never does.

🌼🌷🌻🌹

Just like promised, Geto helps Gojo take care of the tattoo. Every day, Gojo wanders over to Uzumaki after he closes the shop. Typically the tattoo parlor is in full swing. Much unlike the other two times he’d been there. But every time, without fail, Geto always has time for Gojo.

Gojo likes to tell himself he doesn’t like the attention but... He does. He really, really does. He likes watching Geto pull his shirt up and admire his skin. He loves how Geto runs his fingers over the tattoo as he tells Gojo that he’s doing such a good job. Gojo isn’t actually doing anything to warrant the praise but he’s not complaining. He likes their conversations. Gojo no longer thinks about whatever dumb plan he concocted to get Geto to move his hideous shop. They talk and tease and banter. It’s great. Gojo would even go as far as to call them friends. Except he wouldn’t utter a word about it out loud.

Then Geto finishes up, walks him to the door and bids farewell just like he does every time with a ‘see you tomorrow, dandelion.’ Always a ‘see you later’ and never a goodbye. Something to look forward to the next day and the day after. Geto keeps his eyes on Gojo the entire time he walks to his car, like he was making sure the white-haired man was okay. Gojo didn’t need any protection. He could hold his own in a fight pretty easily, even when he was a lanky toothpick in high school he was rather scrappy. Not that many even wanted to pick a fight with a guy his size. He and Geto were similar in height and build. Just a few differences like Gojo being taller and Geto’s chest and shoulder being a bit wider. Gojo gives him a wave before climbing in his car and driving out of the parking lot. Geto watches him leave without fail.

This happens for days and weeks and then a full month.

As time goes on, months pass by and each day... Gojo starts to feel his stomach drop every time he has to leave. He wants to stay. He wants more time. He almost says it, an offer to see each other later. On the weekends or some other time they are both free. But he doesn’t, he keeps quiet and it simmers inside of him day by day until it’s forced to come out when suddenly faced with the end of the only reason he and Geto even meet up like they have been.

“Well, this healed great.” Geto traces around the tattoo with a calloused fingertip, causing Gojo to shiver. He focuses on the touch, how it feels searching on his skin like he was being branded. He pushes down the want to grab Geto’s hand and make it travel across the rest of his body, pressing into the heat of the black-haired man’s hand into his skin to lay claim over every inch.

He figured out a few months back that he liked Geto. Really, really liked him. More than just friends and deeper than pure lust. Well, Gojo still wanted the black-haired man to bend him over the nearest flat surface but he also wanted to kiss underneath the stars, hold hands while they sleep together and get flowers for each other for Valentine’s Day. The whole picket fence and dog fantasy Gojo conjured when they first met, yeah, he wanted that. Ten billion percent.

It took him a few weeks to come to terms with his feelings for Geto. Lust is one thing. But these deep, complicated feelings were something Gojo’s never dealt with before. He remembers when it hit him. He was at home, tending to a temperamental fiddle leaf fig. It's a flowering plant with small buds that are hidden inside the fig fruit. They require a particular wasp for pollination that is nearly impossible to replicate at home. So, they rarely bloom in doors and are known for their decorative leaves rather than showy blossoms. It is quite the botanical marvel. 

Even putting aside the pollination process, fiddle leaf figs were picky. They require tons of life but not too much. Sensitive to fluctuating temperatures that even a cool draft could have it wilting. You can only water them when the topsoil is dry, it can't sit in standing water. Regular soil is also out of the question. Want to move it? Think again, because the leafy figs hate being moved so wherever its placed is its home.

Gojo has been obsessed with getting it to bloom. He'd been through a few already. Killed the first one out right but his current one was going great.

When he noticed a bud on it, a tiny little thing, he had sucked in a breath so quickly he almost choked. It was small but it was there. The first thing he did was grab his phone to text Geto. Without any thought, it was the first thing his body did as a reaction of wanting to tell someone the good news. He received a prompt response to his picture with a caption ‘I did it!’ Geto never had him waiting long, the only time it ever took awhile for a response was when Geto was tattooing.

Tacky Tattoo Shop Guy: I told you that you’d do it. There’s nothing Gojo Satoru can’t do.

Simple words, typical encouragement. Nothing Gojo needed, he knew he was generally good at everything he tried and he had a talent with flowers. But for some reason, when Geto would tell him things like that- It always had his heart fluttering.

He sat his phone down and went back to checking the soil was dry at least five centimeters down when his hands froze on the squeeze handle. Blue eyes widen, his mouth falls open in a perfect ‘O’ and his heart feels like his drops into his somersaulting stomach. Geto's leather jacket that hangs in his hall closet feels taunting as the realization hits him.

Ah. He liked Geto. He actually liked-liked Geto Suguru. And, god, what a immature way to phrase it but that’s true. Not quite love but more than platonic friendship. Saying he has a crush sounds even more childish. He definitely liked-liked that asshole. That pefect-similing, devastatingly handsome, thoughtful and sweet man of Gojo’s fucking dreams. What that hell...

In Gojo Satoru's thirty years of life. He's had a lot of lows. Like that one time he walked into the glass door of his father’s company and the receptionist had to hand him a tissue for his bleeding nose while she stifled a laugh behind her hand. Also, getting black out drunk at sixteen by raiding his parents collection of finely aged liquor and throwing up on his mom's expensive Persian rug she loved more than him. Breaking up with his boyfriend of a year via text because he 'just wasn't that into him.' Or sitting on the kitchen floor and eating slices of processed cheese.

That's where Gojo ended up. Sitting on the cold tile floor of his apartment's spacious kitchen. Right in front of the opened fridge, the harsh fluorescent light practically blinding him. A package of American cheese slices sits in his lap, empty wrappers scattered around him as he cracks open a cold one (i.e. another slice of cheese) then shoves the whole piece in his mouth.

Probably a new form of low for him, but the full realization of his true feelings for Geto Suguru was hitting him hard. Like a wrecking ball crashing into a wall for demolition. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, the one English song coming to mind. He was going to have that song stuck in his head for the rest of the day. He could barely remember the English lyrics. 

He sat in front of the fridge, having a crisis and mental breakdown all in one messy package until the light of his fridge turned off. As he stared into the dark recesses of his fridge, a weightless, sweet feeling started bubbling in his stomach. It caused him to smile, huffing out a soft sigh before breaking into a full-on grin.

He liked Geto. He really, really liked Geto. That made him so happy. Man, he hadn’t felt this happy since opening his flower shop, the main joy in this world to him. This stupidly handsome, kind man with the ugliest tattoo parlor in the entire world rivals it.

The feeling of happiness stayed in his stomach. Every time he even so much as thought of Geto. He could feel the lightweight sensation, like butterflies flittering around. Don’t even get Gojo started when Geto smiles at him. His stomach starts acting like it’s doing an Olympic gold winning gymnastics floor routine. Then when Geto touches him, just like he was earlier, with that searing heat of his skin that always lit a flame of desire within Gojo.

The white-haired man shifts, a little uncomfortable about how hot he was getting. He didn’t need to pop a boner while he sat in the tattoo chair. Though, maybe if Geto wanted to help him take care of it. That wouldn’t be so bad-

“You don‘t have to come by anymore-” Gojo’s head snaps around, pulled harshly from his daydreaming.

“What?” He says with more bite than he intends to. Geto looks at him, sheepish at the venom directed towards him.

“You don’t have to come by any-” Gojo’s out of the chair before he can hear anymore. Because all of that? It sounded like rejection. Yeah, maybe storming out of the parlor was a little on the dramatic side but whatever further reaction he’s going to have, he did not want Geto with a front-row seat of it. He doesn’t know if he wants to cry, laugh hysterically or punch Geto in his dumb, pretty face. Well, he isn’t much of a crier, so maybe the other two were better options. Punching something sounded rather therapeutic right now. 

“Wait, dandelion!” That fucking nickname. It gets him every time. Has his toes curling and heart stuttering. For whatever reason, Gojo stops. He folds his arms across his chest, trying to pull off nonchalant as best he can.

“What’s wrong?” Geto’s voice is so soft when he asks, like he’s afraid being louder will scare Gojo off. The white-haired man shrugs.

“I’m just leaving. Since I don’t have to come by anymore.” He knows he’s being childish, but he feels bitter. Bitter at the fact that his feelings aren’t reciprocated like he thought they were. With Geto’s constant touching and kindness and attentiveness, it just- Well, it gave Gojo the wrong idea obviously. And now it seems like Geto doesn’t even want to be Gojo’s friend. He assumed they, at least, thought of each other as friends. The first thing he's going to do when he gets home is set that stupid leather jacket on fire. The damn jacket that Geto knows he still has but refuses to say anything about. The one Geto's seen him wearing countless times but never gives it a second glance.

“Satoru...” Geto says his name with such fondness it has his heart aching. It’s just not fair. How can Geto say his name like that and not feel the same. Not feel some kind of connectedness to him.

“That’s not what I meant. You don’t have to come by for the tattoo.” Oh. Well, he should have said that then. It’s not Gojo’s fault he jumped to a conclusion for no reason.

“I still want you to come by. Maybe...” The black-haired man shrugs, hands shoved in his pockets.

“See each other outside of-” He gestures around. Gojo brightens, smile shining.

“Yeah?” Geto’s own smile is small, quirked up cutely at the sides as he answers, “yeah.”

Kind of like... A date. Gojo doesn’t say this out loud because... Yeah, okay, he’s probably jumping the gun again, but that’s what Geto is alluding to, yeah? Dinner and a movie? Maybe a nice picnic at the park? Or something- Whatever, Gojo doesn’t know. He hasn’t been on a date in years. Maybe he could search for some ideas. He’d ask Yuuta if the younger man wasn’t in some weird threesome situationship who he claims to be ‘just friends’ with. Yeah, okay. Gojo would believe him if Yuuta didn’t make heart eyes every time he saw them.

“We’re friends, right? So, it makes sense.” Geto’s words cut into the delusional reverie of romance. Hm. That’s a downer. Friends? Just friends? Gojo guesses it’s not a bad label. He already considered them friends, just moments ago he was so upset when he thought Geto didn’t even think of them as friends. A guy can hope though, that maybe they’ll move on to the next stage. He really thinks that Geto likes him in the same way.

Right? They were always flirting. It’s not like any of their bickering was serious anymore; it was just what they did. To, like, flirt. Gojo blinks, realization striking him. Oh shit. Maybe he was the only one that thought that. Did Geto not think he liked him? Yeah, Gojo could be an asshole but so could Geto. He thought that was a little mutual ‘thing’ between them.

“I mean- We are right?” Geto asks, tone apprehensive. His eyes nervously shift like he was trying to look anywhere but at Gojo. It was cute, actually. Gojo’s never really seen this side of Geto before.

“Yeah- Yes, you- Um...” Gojo stumbles over what he’s trying to convey, feeling a little dumb he pauses for a second.

“You’re kind of my best friend, Suguru.” Gojo admits. A best friend that he wants to kiss but, you know, it’s still fitting. He wouldn’t give anyone else the title. Honestly the closest people he even has as friends are his own employees, and that probably isn’t something to brag about.  Thinking about it, Geto Suguru was really his best friend. They’ve only known each other for about six months now but Gojo thinks he’s felt this way since the first moment he laid eyes on the other man.

He just had to go through a stage of denial first.  Not his finest moment, but he blames Geto’s terrible decorating skills. If the parlor wasn’t so damn ugly Gojo wouldn’t have been distracted by how god-awful it all looked, he could have focused on how amazing Geto is.

“You’re... You’re mine too, Satoru.” Gojo can’t help the happiness

🌹🌼🌻🌷

Gojo’s never really had friends before. He was a loner in high school aside from his singular friend, Shoko. Who possessed the emotional facial range of a turnip. They were still friends, even after all these years but Shoko worked ridiculously long hours as a surgeon and the time she spent off she liked to just sleep. It was hard to get her out of the house to do something fun- Unless it was to drink but that wasn’t Gojo’s thing. He would not call getting pastured fun. Gojo always envisions his mother’s pristine Persian rug when he thinks about alcohol and it gives him the shivers.

So, it is kind of strange to have someone that’s willing to do activities he thinks of as ‘a good time.’ Hell, Geto even shares a lot of Gojo’s interests. They can’t really see eye to eye with interior decorating and, yeah, neither of them know much about their own professions.

It’s nice to be able to talk about something and the other person already knows about the subject matter. So they can just add into the conversation instead of needing to stop and give a lecture about this or that. Shoko hardly ever knew what he was talking about and whenever he’d explain anything to her, that glazed over look in her eyes always got a little bit murkier. Can’t say he didn’t do the same to her when she went into a rant about why menthols are better than regular cigarettes or why a certain brand of sterilizer was her favorite because it smelled a certain way.

Geto liked horror movies and video games and Digimon. Gojo remembers the first time Geto came over to his place, almost dropping the pizza boxes in his hands when the black-haired man made a comment about his WarGreymon figure- Going off about how he’s the ultimate symbol of a warrior and perfectly embodies a hero’s destiny. Gojo swore his heart stopped and his stomach fell out of his ass. He’s said the exact same thing to Shoko once and she just gave him another bland look. Geto even followed along and agreed with Gojo when he started on how he thought the evolution from MetalGreymon or WarGreymon signifies transition from sheer power to strategic mastery and heroic purpose.

Geto beat his ass at Mario Kart and Gojo beat him at Mortal Kombat. They go to different cafes Gojo wants to try, even if they are a train ride away. Geto coerces Gojo to be his gym buddy where they’ve both taken up to playing a few rounds of volleyball after they binge-watched Haikyu. Gojo gushes about a new flower he’s bought to grow while Geto complains about some of his more tedious clients. They see each other every day and text when they aren’t together. Their chat thread is filled with inside jokes, funny videos and dumb memes.

Yeah, having a best friend was awesome. Gojo would recommend it. One-billion out of ten. What he doesn’t recommend is also wanting to jump that best friend’s bones. Gojo wants to climb Geto like a koala would a tree and lay a deep kiss on him every time their damn eyes meet. Gojo had tried convincing himself that being ‘just friends’ was enough for him. And it is great. Fantastic. Obviously glowing reviews. But Gojo can be a greedy person, especially when it comes to Geto. He wants his constant attention and affection. Always wanting more and more and more. Geto indulges him too, spoils him with his full focus and prompts replies to texts and calls.

 
Gojo just thinks though, what if they could have more than just friendship. What if they could have intimacy as well? Gojo’s sure they’d have mind-blowing sex, if his wet dreams about the other man were anything to go by. But, for that, they’d need the next step. They’d need for one of them to cross over the threshold between ‘just friend’s and ‘something more.’ As shameless as Gojo is... He can’t bring himself to do it.

There’s a nagging in the back of his mind, a little seed of doubt sprouting to inaction. If he wasn’t so worried about rejection. If he wasn’t so worried about destroying a relationship with a person he truly cherishes then he’d grab Geto’s face and kiss him until they both couldn’t breath. Geto hasn’t even tried to make a move on him so... Maybe the other man was content with mere friendship.

Gojo was losing hope in them being ‘more’ until the day Geto invited him over to his apartment. They always ended up at Gojo’s, it was closer to their shops and typically conveniently located to whatever they were doing. Geto’s apartment was a little bit off the beaten path, down an alleyway with sprawling ivy and tucked away into an alcove Gojo wouldn’t even know existed if Geto didn’t point it out.

Geto drove them over on his motorcycle, picked Gojo up like he was some teen girl sneaking out of her house to meet her delinquent boyfriend. They’d made plans to co-op on a new map of a game they play and then have dinner and catch up with Demon Slayer so they could watch the movie coming out. Gojo was going to stay the night since they knew they wouldn’t be done until the trains stopped running. It was a little bit of a childhood sleepover (which Gojo never experienced) and staying over at a lover’s house for the weekend (also something Gojo’s never experienced but that was more because all of his ex’s sucked).

Always the gentleman, Geto carried Gojo’s duffel bag inside once they got to his apartment. Gojo was gearing himself up to witness the most atrocious home decor he’s ever seen. He’s sure it would be right on part with that tacky tattoo parlor and- Well, he’s actually quite surprised it’s rather simplistic. Muted colors, a comfortable looking couch, decorated with some tasteful lamps, bookshelves lined with books, figures and fake succulents. It felt cozy and suited Geto far better than the red and blacks of the tattoo shop. Even with his piercings and tattoos, this style of lived-in warmth suited him best.

“I can take the couch tonight whenever we turn in. You can have my bed.” Gojo raises a snowy brow, cocking his head to the side in question. He’s shrugging off the leather jacket to hang it up on the coatrack by the door. Geto merely eyed it like he always does when Gojo wears it but makes no comment about it. The white-haired man thought he would have asked for it back by now. Maybe call him out on wearing the jacket almost constantly nowadays. But no, nothing from the black-haired man. He always just regards Gojo for a moment when he wears it and moves on like it didn’t matter Gojo basically stole a supposedly love-worn piece of clothing.

“Why? We can share your bed.” They were both grown ass men, they had the same parts. Gojo did not have ulterior motives either. Not like he can control if Geto wakes up with morning wood and it's so conveniently pressed up against Gojo’s thigh.

“I don't have cooties.” He blinks innocently, causing Geto to scoff.

“I know that, dumbass.” Amber eyes avert, his mouth taking a straight line of seriousness.

“Just don’t think it’s a good idea.” That sounded like there were a ton of implications behind it.

“Should I be worried about my chastity, Geto Suguru?” Gojo asks, half-teasing and fully-hopeful. Geto’s eyes widen at his words, cheeks warming to a cute pink similar to a peony. Oh. Maybe that hit closer to the truth that Gojo meant for it to. He’s about to double down, poke the proverbial alligator a little bit more. Maybe he might get something out of Geto. Except he feels a brush against his calf that causes him to jump and forget everything he was about to say. Gojo jerks back, breath catching in his throat in a surprised gasp. Blue eyes drop to the floor to find what the hell just touched him.

He finds a cat. A tabby, marbled ochre and brown with charcoal markings. A pretty cat with round owl-like eyes and an equally round tummy. The cat stared at him, unblinking. Gojo stared right back.

“Ah, time to introduce you to Birdie.” Gojo blinks. Birdie? The... Cat?

“You named your cat Birdie?” Geto looks up at him, sheepish at the underlying judgment in Gojo’s tone.

“I thought it was funny...” He says softly as he scoops up the chubby cat. Gojo levels a look at him.

“You’re an idiot.” Geto doesn’t even look offended as he scratches Birdie between her ears as she purrs up a storm.

“Takes one to know one?” He counters with a smirk.

“Hi, Birdie. I’m Satoru. Nice to meet you-” He barely gets the last word out when the tabby jumps out of Geto’s arms and lands on the floor with a soft thud. She saunters off without even a look over her fuzzy shoulder. Gojo stares at her exit, mouth still open.

“Sorry,” Geto chuckles into his fist.

“She’s like that.” Gojo grumbles something snarky under his breath that just makes Geto laugh more. Then they move on with their evening, forgetting about their earlier conversation about sleeping arrangements and being ignored by cats with unfitting names.

Hours later, after they’ve delved into the newest dungeon on their game, ate way too much fried chicken and Gojo teased Geto from crying over an anime (he thought it was cute), they had set up watching a movie Gojo was not paying attention to. He didn‘t even know the name of it. Whenever Geto made the suggestion, he just nodded along- Far too distracted by the tattooed muscles of Geto’s arms. He’d apparently gotten too hot and took his long-sleeved shirt off to reveal a battered tank top as an undershirt.

The vision made Gojo’s mouth go dry. Geto didn‘t tend to wear a lot of short sleeves, he’d roll them up when he worked but too many people gave him side-eyes when he’d walk around in short sleeves on the streets of Japan. He‘s definitely never worn a tank top before. Maybe Gojo could find the thermostat and turn the heat higher so Geto would take his shirt off entirely.

Gojo makes a soft noise of surprise when Geto turns his head and they are suddenly nose to nose.  The white-haired man probably goes a little cross-eyed for a moment as his vision focuses on how damn close Geto is.

Oh.

He holds his breath, entire body freezing. Geto was so close. Gojo would just need to tip forward, only slightly- Barely even anything. Turn his head to an angle and lean forward to press his lips against Geto’s. He could do it. He could, it would be so fucking easy.

Gojo watches with a curious gaze as Geto’s eyes flick down to his lips momentarily. Wait. Did he just imagine that? Amber eyes meet his once more and then... Another look down. No. Gojo didn’t imagine it. He can hear Geto swallow before he inhales-exhales a shaky breath.

Geto’s eyes fall closed, a sweep of midnight lashes against his cheek, as his head tilts to the side. Gojo dares not to breathe, afraid that if he did the other man would disappear or pull away. And Gojo swears Geto leans forward, just slightly- Coming in for a kiss he hopes they were both waiting for.

Then Geto’s pulling back, a distance between them that feels like the width of the Grand Canyon in America. Gojo blinks, feeling a bit of whiplash. He didn’t imagine all of that did he? That wasn’t some delusional daydream he conjured in his mind.

Birdie jumps onto the couch between and chirps in a way that Gojo deems a little taunting. He glares at the cat, who remains completely unaffected as she curls up in Geto’s lap. The black-haired man’s tattooed hand strokes over soft looking fur absentmindedly, seemingly unaware of Gojo’s one-sided beef with his cat.

“I kind of feel sorry for him.” Geto says, diverting Gojo’s attention away from the curled up feline. Blue eyes blink. Huh? Geto smiles at him, in that cute way where his eyes crinkle at the sides and the amber of his eyes look almost gold. Gojo flushes, he guess he said that ‘huh’ out loud.

“The second male lead. He’s obviously never going to get the girl.” Gojo’s eyes cut to the screen quickly where, who he assumes, is the second male lead sitting forlornly in a park at night. 

“Oh yeah... Sucks for him.” When he looks back over to Geto, the other man looks positively bemused.

“Why do I have the feeling you have no idea what I’m talking about?” Gojo didn’t, he was far too busy staring at Geto earlier to pay attention to the movie but he was not going to admit that to the black-haired man.

“I do!” A total lie that he can tell Geto doesn’t believe him. Instead of calling him out though, Geto merely snorts at him and doesn’t argue. They both turn back to the movie and Gojo tries to catch up on what the hell was even going on. It’s a romantic comedy so it wasn’t hard, an easy plot to follow. Just like Geto guessed, at the end of the movie the second male lead didn’t get the girl.

The movie ends late into the night and they’re both yawning. Geto suggests they turn in for the night and even volunteers to make breakfast in the morning.

“I’d rather live, thanks.” Gojo says. Geto is a notoriously terrible cook. His nose crinkles at the thought of that burnt pancake he made that one time. The black-haired man gives him a look.

“Well, I was trying to be nice-”

“Really? Because it sounds like you wanted to kill me-”

“Fine.” Geto says, huffy.

“Am I being blessed with your cooking then? Or are we ordering?” Gojo regards him with a thoughtful look, like he was actually debating between the two options.

“I guess I could cook. If you ask nicely.” The white-haired man grins, full-on Cheshire Cat. He’d already made up his mind about cooking, but having Geto tell him ‘pretty please with sugar on top’ is a bonus he deserved.

“Okay then...” Geto says after a moment, taking a step closer to Gojo. Then another and another. Gojo holds his breath as Geto reaches for him. A large tattooed hand cupping his shoulder like Geto was cradling something precious then the touch travels down the whole length of Gojo’s arm. There’s a soft caress on the inside of his wrist before the fingers are curling around his hand. Geto brings the back of Gojo’s hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to it.

“Please will you cook for me, dandelion?” Geto asks, voice deeper than usual. With a nice purr to it, like when he’d say Gojo’s first name. It has Gojo’s heart stuttering and toes curling, a shiver running up his spine.

“Y-yeah, sure.” He stutters out, a little lame and fully taken by surprise by the other man’s actions. Geto smiles against his skin before he pulls away, telling him that the duffel bag is on his bed if he wants to get changed for bed. Gojo stares after him as he walks away with the purpose of grabbing some extra blankets from the linen closet.

What just happened? Definitely not just Gojo’s imagination. Geto was probably just paying him back for teasing him but... He presses his hand flat against his chest. His beat beats rapidly under his palm. Gojo hopes that Geto wasn’t just playing with him.

They don’t touch for the rest of the night, like there was some kind of forbidden taboo on it. Gojo can see that Geto is actively making sure they don’t come into contact. He can’t understand why but doesn’t ask about it either but the tension between them is obvious.

They didn't share a bed that night. Gojo almost asks about it again but his heart is a little too fluttery still from what happened earlier. Maybe it was best that they sleep apart. So, Gojo takes Geto’s bed while the other man squishes himself onto the couch.

The sheets of the bed are soft, the comforter is plush and it all smells like Geto. A spicy, musky scent that Gojo breathes in deeply when he buries his face into the pillows. He falls asleep to the sound of the quickened beat of his heart.

The next morning is so normal that Gojo starts to think he dreamed the whole almost-kiss. Geto even helps Gojo into his own fucking jacket when it was time to leave. Again, not saying a word about his ownership of it or request that Gojo give it back. Maybe Gojo was a bit too delusional about this whole thing with Geto. So, he settles on that. For the most part, at least, because there was still a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that told him otherwise.

The nagging feeling he should have listened to because it happens again. Another almost-kiss and this time he knows he isn’t daydreaming. He was locked in the moment Geto’s eyes dropped down to his mouth. He leaned in. Just enough and then pulled away. Just like last time. Gojo thought seriously about kicking him. Because what the hell? Is there something wrong with Gojo?

The white-haired man is debating that could be the case, even if it seemed highly improbable because, look at him. He’s amazing. Handsome, tall, successful businessman. He can even cook. Geto acted like he was enamored with him. So why does the black-haired man keep pulling away when he leans in for a kiss. It even happens a few more times. Each time leaving Gojo more doubtful. Was Geto second-guessing his own feelings? Did he just not like Gojo enough to take the leap and finally make their friendship more.

Gojo tells himself that he can wait, that Geto is worth it... But it still bothers him every time it happens. Making him doubt himself and Geto’s feelings for him. The feelings he thought were finally reciprocated.

So for days and weeks and months, they continue to dance around each other.

🌼🌻🌹🌷

Gojo closes shop and once again heads over to Uzumaki. It’s their daily routine now whenever they are both working. They don’t even drive separate vehicles anymore. Geto usually comes and picks Gojo up on his bike since he’s on the way but Gojo will even go out of his way to go get Geto on days where they need to take a car because it’s raining. They always go home together, eat dinner together before Geto needs to leave to take care of Birdie. On the weekends they spend time together doing something that’s basically a date in everything but the name.

At this point, even Geto’s co-workers, Gojo’s part-timers and Yuuta make vague comments about how close they are. But they are just friends. Very good friends. Best friends. But even very good, best friends don’t kiss and Gojo really wants to. They’ve gotten so close to it, one of them needed to move that extra centimeter to press their lips together. It happened a few times now, them almost kissing but Geto never leans the rest of the way. Always pulling back.  So, it makes Gojo wary. Because what if he’s reading all of this wrong? What if Geto actually doesn’t reciprocate the same feelings Gojo has. Gojo is pretty damn shameless but he couldn’t imagine pouring out his heart and Geto just- Giving him that placating smile he gives shitty customers and patting him on the back, eyes full of pity.

So, he’s waiting for Geto to make a move. And he still hasn’t so... Gojo just waits (im)patiently.

Even though he doesn’t complain, Gojo knows that Yuuta’s sick of hearing him mope about it every day. A good kid. At first, Yuuta encouraged him to say something to Geto but after the first few heart-to-hearts they had, Yuuta gave up. Gojo ended up just wistfully staring at the tulip, now dried and pressed, that Geto bought him.  One of the part-timers said he was ‘down bad’ and a ‘simp.’ He wasn‘t exactly sure what those two terms meant, but they probably checked out so- Eh. He’d take it.

It’s Saturday night, which means it’s what Gojo endearingly calls ‘not-a-date night.’ Well, he thinks of them as dates and he’s rather sure Geto also thinks of them the same way. But, it’s not like he can just say that out loud. So he jokingly calls them that. Maybe if he says it enough, Geto will get annoyed and correct him. Or he’ll continue to let Gojo call it that and the white-haired man will just die a little inside each time. No biggie.

He barely throws a goodbye at Yuuta before he’s shuffling off to the tattoo parlor. He throws open the door, the familiar bell tinging at his entrance. Geto saunters out of the back with a smug little grin that Gojo wants to kiss.

“Satoru,” Geto calls, practically purring his name in the way Gojo loves. A shiver runs up his spine but he shakes it off, throwing a wide grin Geto’s way.

“Suguru.” Gojo drawls out the other man’s name in an annoying way, but it only makes Geto chuckle. Like Gojo is being precious or some shit. Because he is. Gojo feels his stomach flip-flop.

“Where is everybody? Losing all your customers because you suck?” Gojo asks, noticing that there wasn’t anyone in the lobby and it’s completely quiet. No chatter from the other artists that work there. Geto laughs again and smiles.

“I closed up shop early.” Gojo's head tilts to the side in question. If he remembered correctly, Geto had a few appointments today. He kind of memorized the other man’s schedule so he could come over whenever he was free and that’s a totally normal thing for two dudes who are ‘just friends’ to do.

“Why?” He asks, curious.

“I have something to show you.” Geto smiles warmly at him. Gojo regards him with narrowed eyes.

“Oh... What is it?” Geto’s being a little suspicious but... Well, curiosity killed the cat but the truth brought it back. Or something.

“Let me show you, it’s back here.” Geto says, his hand brushing over Gojo’s hip, finger peeking out to trace the infinity symbol he had tattooed there months ago before he moves his palm to the small of Gojo’s back and leads him through the beaded curtain to that back. Now, Gojo’s been to the back several times now. Very acquainted with the back. So, he can tell that there wasn’t anything new or special going on there. So he turns to Geto with a question on the tip of his tongue that immediately dies when he sees the predatory look on the other man’s face.

Gojo isn’t really sure who moved first but they both ended up in a kiss, mouths sliding together like they couldn’t get enough of each other. It doesn’t take long for Gojo to be naked from the waist down, whining and crying as he sits back in one of the tattoo chairs while Geto’s tongue and thick fingers work him open with spit and lube. Gojo had a passing thought about where the lube even came from but it was quickly forgotten about when Geto found that sweet bundle of nerves inside of his ass.

The chair ended up breaking that night. Apparently, it wasn’t able to hold the weight of two fully grown men fucking on it.

They split the cost of the chair to replace it, but Geto pays for dinner while Gojo gets the movie tickets on their first actual date.

Later, in Gojo’s apartment while basking in the aftermath of yet another round of mind-blowing sex Gojo finds out what exactly prompted Geto into finally taking steps to deepen their relationship.

“You were taking too long to make a move on me, so I just thought I’d jump-start it.” Gojo’s jaw drops.

“You were waiting on me to... I was waiting on you!” Geto raises an eyebrow at him.

“Wha- Why? I thought you didn’t like me for the longest time.” The white-haired man practically balks at him.

“What gave you that impression?” Amber eyes level him with a look and a large hand smacks his ass. He huffs.

“Okay, yeah, understandable.” The hand gives his ass a soft squeeze before it settles, cupping it in a satisfying way. Gojo feels his hole contract, feeling a bit empty without Geto’s huge dick stuffed inside. They could go for another round, he was still slick with lube. But, curiosity gets the better of him. They could always fuck after, anyways.

“When did you figure out that I, you know...” He nudges Geto, blue eyes flicking up to stare into honey brown. He doesn’t want to say it out loud. Not just yet. He’s not even sure if they were together. They better be, but still- Not really the time to drop something as strong as the ‘L’ word.

“I had an inkling you liked me when you tried to storm out of Uzumaki.” Yeah, not his best moment. Gojo has a bad habit of being extemporaneous, getting ahead of himself too often. He always liked to think it’s one of his charms.

“But, when it really came home? That date we had at that fancy cafe in Shinjuku this weekend-” Gojo blinks up to him, blue eyes wide at the word choice.

“Date?” He asks softly. Geto’s cheeks warm as he worries his bottom lip.

“I thought it was.” The genuineness of the answer has Gojo pushing forward and pressing a kiss to Geto’s lips.

“Me too.” He says when he pulls back then gestures for Geto to continue his story.

“You got me my exact order without even needing to tell you.” Gojo’s mind immediately supplies him with the order. Matcha late, iced with oat milk and one shot of almond syrup. Geto was a creature of habit. He always got the same thing every time they went to get drinks. They both preferred other things than to the bitterness of coffee but Geto was set in his order while Gojo tended to deviate and try a variety of flavors.

“When you jumped into talking about that weird cactus-”

“The cube-shaped pseudolithos.” Gojo reminds him. It’s an aptly named succulent that forms into a nearly perfect cube, it grows from a single stem of flowers that bloom in reds, yellow or green. It’s hard to come back and takes forever to grow but Gojo found them fascinating. The price just deterred him from purchasing one. They were almost sixteen-thousand yen. Geto snorts.

“Yeah, that. I dunno, I just... I was looking at you. Wearing my jacket-” Gojo’s mind immediately visualizes the worn leather jacket that hangs in his hall closet, that’s become his go-to every time it gets cold. 

“Saw how your eyes sparkled when talking about the thing you loved most in the world and I realized... Hey, he looks at you like that too.” The hand that isn’t on Gojo’s ass cups Gojo’s cheek in a gentle touch that the white-haired man instantly leans into.  

“That’s when I really knew that you shared my feelings.” The pad of Geto’s thumb caresses over the apple of Gojo’s cheek. It’s tender but almost an absentminded action as Geto continues to speak.

“But I was afraid that you hadn’t realized it yet and I decided that I would wait on you to make a move.” Gojo can’t help but roll his eyes at them. He turns his face into Geto’s hand and presses a kiss to the palm.

“While I was waiting on you to do the same.” He mumbles against the rough, textured skin. Blue eyes look up through a lace of white lashes.

“We’re kind of dumb.” Geto says as he drags his hand back into Gojo’s soft hair, threading his fingers through the short strands.

“I’ll say.” Geto chuckles softly at that.

“But we can be dumb together.” It’s quiet for a moment. Geto continues to run his fingers through Gojo’s hair which has his own fingers twitching with need to tangle into the long, black tresses of Geto’s hair.

“I don’t know what it was about today but... I couldn’t wait anymore. It felt like if I didn’t kiss you- Tell you how I felt. I’d die.” Gojo understands. All too well, actually. His need for more, for Geto grew day by day and he was afraid that it would soon swallow him whole. Drowning him in want for something he could never have.

“But that’s what we are, right?” Gojo asks softly, unable to keep the question in. He needs to know. Some kind of confirmation.

“Together?” Gojo doesn’t want to say ‘boyfriends’ because he sounds so childish.

“Yeah, Satoru. We’re together.” Gojo grins. They’ll put a more definite label on it later but, for now, that’s good enough for him. He pushes forward, hands framing the sides of Geto’s face as he leans in and captures the other man’s lips with a deep kiss. The kiss doesn’t stop there, as hands start to roam and their cocks twitch back to life. They make it through a few more rounds of sex before Geto has to leave for the night. As much as Gojo wants him to stay over, Geto has Birdie to feed.

“Give Birdie kisses for me.” Gojo says before he leans forward to press another kiss to Geto’s lips. He still thinks ‘Birdie’ is a dumb name for a cat. A soft caress of Geto’s thumb swipes down Gojo’s cheek before the black-haired man breaks the kiss.

“Oh man, she’ll love that.” It’s sarcasm, the cat was really put out by most things that didn’t have to do with food or catnip. Gojo can’t help but go in for one more kiss. Geto smiles into this one, tilting his head to deepen it with a bit of tongue. A soft moan coming from one of them causes them to reluctantly pull away. If they continued, they’d end up back on Gojo’s bed and Birdie would not be fed that night.

“See you tomorrow?” Gojo asks. Geto’s lips quirk up in that stupid-handsome smile of his as he nods, then leans forward for one more kiss. This time a swift peck on the lips before taking a step back. He turns his heel, raising his arm to wave Gojo goodbye.  

“Suguru?” The other man calls, stopping Geto in his tracks. Amber eyes turn to Gojo, silky black hair falling over Geto’s shoulder as tip his head to the side inquisitively.  

“Yeah, Satoru?” He asks, tongue rolling over the ‘R’ in the way that makes Gojo feel all tingly inside. The white-haired man smiles, a little impish. 

“I’m keeping your jacket.” Geto stands there silently for a moment before he snorts, sounding highly amused tinged with a little disbelief.  

“It’s yours, for as long as you want it.” The words are weighted. A deeper meaning hidden at the bottoms of the depths of them. But the water isn’t murky in the slightest, Gojo can see what Geto means with perfect clarity.  

“I’ll keep it forever then.” He says back. Might be jumping the gun a bit but, well, that’s just how Gojo is. At this point in time, for him, there isn’t a future that Geto Suguru isn’t in. The black-haired man grins, eyes dancing with complete understanding. Geto lets out a little happy sigh and raises his hand in a wave. 

“See you tomorrow, dandelion.”