Work Text:
Megumi | Can you come to my dorm room?
Megumi | If you're not busy.
Gojo would have laughed at how ridiculous a notion that was if he weren't too busy trying not to panic. The second he received Megumi's text, Gojo had made his way across school grounds, not even bothering to reply. He'd be at Megumi's dorm room in under five minutes. If you're not busy—Gojo scoffed. Megumi practically never texted unless it was an emergency. That, mixed with the fact that it was currently two-thirty in the morning, was enough to send Gojo flying out of his office.
The only thing that kept Gojo from blasting his way into the kid's room was how casual Megumi's texts were. They didn't exactly sound like an emergency, but Gojo couldn't wrap his head around the idea of Megumi texting him so late otherwise. Much like Gojo, Megumi wasn't much of a talker when it came to his feelings. Gojo could name a single time in that kid's life when he actually opened up to Gojo, and that had been a complete accident spurred on by some stupid curse.
So yeah, Gojo wasn't sure what to expect when he entered Megumi's room. He'd heard the shower running before even opening the door, which told him exactly where his kid was. The only question was why—why hop in the shower immediately after asking Gojo to come over? Did he really think Gojo wouldn't come right away? Frowning, Gojo took in Megumi's disheveled bed.
The blanket and sheet were bunched up in the middle, Megumi's pillow having fallen to the ground. Even in a rush, Megumi always tried to leave his bed neatly tucked. To Gojo's surprise and confusion, Megumi's sweatpants were lying in the middle of the floor, between the bed and bathroom. Gojo's frown only grew deeper as he glanced toward the bathroom. Aside from the running water, he hadn't heard a peep since he entered.
"Megumi?" Gojo called out as he rapped his knuckles against the door. His brows furrowed when he didn't get a response. "I'm coming in."
Gojo gave it a few seconds before opening the door and peeking inside. He spotted Megumi immediately, sitting underneath the shower spray with his knees drawn up and face hidden in his arms. Gojo wasted no time snatching a towel off the rack and rushing over. Reaching for the tap, Gojo was shocked by how cold the temperature was—it was freezing! He quickly turned it off before crouching in front of Megumi, his eyes scanning the kid's body for any sign of an injury.
"Hey, Kiddo, are you hurt?"
Megumi shook his head, the action so small that Gojo would have surely missed it had he not been paying close attention. He may not have been hurt, but Megumi was shivering like a leaf—the cold water mixing with the cold air only making things worse. Gojo clucked his tongue as he returned to Megumi's bedroom in search of something warmer. He quickly found a throw blanket tucked away in Megumi's closet. Hurrying back, Gojo carefully wrapped the blanket around Megumi's shivering frame. It was soaking up water fast, which wasn't good, but Gojo didn't plan on letting Megumi stay there too long.
Megumi lifted his head enough for Gojo to get a good look at his face. His cheeks were rosy, sweat clinging to his forehead despite his skin being cold to the touch. The kid's eyes were red and puffy, which immediately set off alarm bells in Gojo's head. Megumi never cried, not even when he got hurt as a kid.
"Megumi, talk to me—what's going on?"
It took a few seconds before Megumi finally answered, his voice barely a whisper. "I wet the bed…"
Oh.
Gojo glanced back toward the bedroom. That explained why Megumi's bed was a mess—no point in tidying it up. Looking back at Megumi, Gojo took in his rosy appearance once more and instantly understood what was happening. Still, Gojo pressed the back of his hand against Megumi's forehead. It couldn't hurt to double-check. As expected, the kid was burning up. Megumi had complained the other day about feeling nauseous during lunch. Gojo hadn't given it much thought.
"Shit."
It wasn't like that was the first time Megumi had gotten sick, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time Gojo stepped in to take care of him. Wetting the bed, however, well, that was certainly new. Even as a little kid, Megumi had never done that—at least, not to Gojo's knowledge. Throwing up, sure. Gojo had to clean up that sort of mess a handful of times, much to their mutual dismay. This—Gojo knew he needed to be careful. Megumi was undoubtedly mortified, yet he hadn't hesitated to reach out to Gojo for help.
It wasn't a life-or-death emergency, but it was sure as hell a big deal.
"Sorry," Megumi mumbled.
Gojo clucked his tongue again. "You have nothing to be sorry for, kiddo."
"I'm fifteen years old…"
"You're sick, Megumi," Gojo stated firmly as he grabbed the towel he'd discarded earlier and used it to start drying Megumi's hair. "As much as it sucks, this kind of stuff happens. You don't have to apologize for things that aren't your fault—not to me."
"Okay…"
Gojo finished drying Megumi's hair, smiling fondly when he noticed Megumi dozing off. Poor kid was probably exhausted. Gojo tapped Megumi lightly on the forehead to get his attention, his smile growing when Megumi blinked up tiredly at him.
"Think you can finish drying off on your own?"
"Yeah."
"Good. I'll grab you some clean clothes."
Gojo helped Megumi up—confirming that he was, in fact, good enough to keep himself upright—before going and raiding Megumi's closet. After some debate, Gojo settled on a pair of sweatpants, a plain t-shirt, and a cotton sweater. Megumi may have been battling a fever, but given the situation, Gojo figured the kid could use a little extra comfort. Clothes in hand, Gojo knocked on the bathroom door. That time, Gojo didn't hesitate to open the door when no answer came.
Megumi sat on the toilet, looking like death warmed over. At the very least, he was dry. Once he was dressed and more comfortable, Gojo would need to do something about that fever. Having dealt with plenty of fevers between Megumi and Tsumiki, Gojo had gotten pretty good at estimating just how bad they were. Megumi's felt pretty high, but not dangerously so, and Gojo intended to keep it that way.
"Still with me, kid?"
Megumi snorted. "I'm not going to pass out if that's what you're worried about."
"If you say so. Here." Gojo handed Megumi the clothes. "I'll be right outside—just holler if you need me!"
While Megumi got dressed, Gojo busied himself with cleaning everything up. The bedding, as well as Megumi's clothes, needed to be washed and was promptly tossed into trash bags. It was far too late—or was it early?—for that. Gojo would take care of them first thing in the morning, when the sun was actually out. The mattress, however, was a different story. There was no washing machine big enough to handle that.
"I don't think it can be saved."
Gojo turned to find Megumi leaning up against the wall, watching Gojo through half-lidded eyes. He looked a little more alert, if not tired, but still every bit embarrassed by the entire situation. Unfortunately, Megumi was probably right about the mattress.
"I'll have Ijichi pick a new one up tomorrow."
"Great," Megumi sighed. "Just what I need—someone else knowing what happened."
"If it makes you feel any better—" Gojo grinned. "—I could always tell him that you and Yuji had a wild night."
If looks could kill, the glare Gojo received would have been enough to evaporate him on the spot.
"Don't you dare."
"Wasn't planning on it!" Gojo chuckled as he waved away Megumi's concerns. "Don't worry about Ijichi. He won't ask any questions—I'll make sure of it."
Megumi hummed in response, seemingly satisfied with Gojo's response. As immature as Gojo could often be, he was fully capable of turning downright terrifying when the situation called for it. Ijichi knew that all too well, and Gojo wasn't above using fear tactics to keep the man from sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Of course, that was future Gojo's problem—Megumi was Gojo's sole concern at that moment.
"Where's your phone?"
Megumi's brows furrowed as he nodded in the direction of his nightstand. "Should be over there. Why?"
"Well, you can't sleep here tonight," Gojo said as he went and searched for Megumi's phone. He found it wedged between the nightstand and the bed frame. So Megumi had texted him while he was still in bed. "Anything else you need?"
"No."
"Then let's get a move on, before we wake Yuji up."
Gojo knew it was unlikely—Yuji was apparently a very heavy sleeper despite having the King of Curses inside his head twenty-four seven. It would be a miracle—well, more like a nightmare for Megumi—if he woke up. Still, just mentioning the possibility was enough to get Megumi out of the first-year dormitory without any complaints. Not that Gojo really expected him to argue too much. The short walk from there to Gojo's room left the poor kid exhausted.
"Sit," Gojo instructed as he nudged Megumi toward the couch.
"Bossy," Megumi grumbled under his breath, but flopped down onto the couch all the same.
Gojo shook his head fondly as he went and prepared a cup of Shōgayu. While the ginger steeped, Gojo rummaged around his cabinets in search of a fever reducer. Having raised two kids, Gojo learned to keep a stash of meds on hand or risk having to make a midnight run to the nearest convenience store. After a bit of searching, Gojo found a pack of Norshin hidden behind a bottle of cough syrup. Gojo popped out two tablets, putting them aside as he added just a tablespoon of honey to the tea. Anymore, and Megumi would have complained that it was too sweet.
"Here," Gojo said as he handed Megumi the Norshin tablets and cup of tea. "These should help bring your fever down."
"Thanks."
"Sit tight and drink up. I'll be back in a sec."
Thanks to Gojo's shit sleeping habits, his bed was already made—the covers neatly tucked in. Megumi was no longer shivering, which was good, but that meant more sweating until his fever broke. Gojo figured it was best to swap out his thick comforter for something lighter. If things got worse, Gojo had an arsenal of thinner blankets they could use. He was just about done setting out the new blanket when he heard the distinct sound of porcelain cracking, followed by Megumi quietly cursing.
Gojo rushed out to find Megumi picking up broken shards of porcelain off the ground, the cracked teacup lying halfway underneath the couch. Shōgayu was spilled across the hardwood, bits of ginger stuck to the couch and Megumi's pant legs. On a good day, Gojo would have rushed to clean up the mess, but the only thing on Gojo's mind was the trickle of blood dripping from Megumi's shaking hand.
"Shit," Gojo cursed under his breath. He quickly intervened, carefully but firmly grabbing Megumi's wrist and snatching the pieces of porcelain out of his hand. Giving Megumi's hand a quick once-over, Gojo decided the cuts weren't too bad—nothing he couldn't fix up. "Come on."
Gojo led Megumi to the kitchen, where he instructed him to sit on the counter. He quickly grabbed what he needed—the first-aid kit and some clean towels—and got to work. Using warm water, Gojo gently cleaned the cuts, noting how badly Megumi's hands were shaking. Gojo knew it had nothing to do with the cuts. Megumi had hurt his hands plenty of times. While helping Gojo cook, during training, and even while accompanying Gojo on missions. Megumi's hands never shook, the kid scarily good at hiding his pain.
"I'm sorry."
Gojo looked up to find Megumi staring past him at the mess gradually soaking into the floorboards.
"What did I say? Stop apologizing for being sick," Gojo lightly scolded him. "This is going to sting."
It was Gojo's only warning as he dabbed a little bit of isodine onto a clean towel and used it to disinfect the cuts. Megumi winced ever so slightly, but otherwise didn't react. At his age, Gojo used to be a big baby about it, much to Shoko's annoyance. More often than not, Gojo had harassed her into using reverse cursed technique to fix the littlest of cuts to avoid having to use the stuff. Megumi, on the other hand, was never one to shy away from such things.
Once he was sure the cuts were thoroughly cleaned, Gojo wrapped a few layers of gauze around Megumi's hand—snug, but not too tight. After double-checking his work, Gojo checked back in on Megumi. The kid's cheeks were as rosy as ever. Pressing the back of his hand to Megumi's forehead, Gojo frowned as he grabbed the thermometer from the cabinet. Thirty-nine point three degrees Celsius—Megumi's fever had gotten worse. It wasn't bad enough to call Shoko—not yet—but if it didn't start to go down once the meds kicked in, Gojo would have no choice.
"Alright, Kiddo, let's get you off to bed."
—before you cause anymore damage to yourself, Gojo thought to himself.
Megumi hummed in acknowledgment before hopping off the counter. Gojo put an arm around his shoulder when Megumi nearly took a hard nose-dive to the floor and kept it there as he escorted Megumi to his bedroom. Megumi wrestled himself out of his sweater while Gojo finished getting the bed ready—lending Megumi a hand when he was done. After the night he had, Megumi practically collapsed into bed. He was out like a light before Gojo could remind him to take off his dirty pants. With a fond huff, Gojo carefully took off the kid's pants, tossing them in the hamper before tucking Megumi in.
"Sweet dreams, kid."
Gojo ruffled Megumi's hair before leaving him to get some rest—leaving the door open just a crack. He got to work cleaning up the spilled tea, which thankfully hadn't soaked into the floorboards. The broken teacup was discarded into the trash can, along with the bloodied shards that Megumi had cut himself on. Gojo would make him a fresh cup of tea later, when he was certain that Megumi was well enough to keep a steady grip on it.
With the mess quickly taken care of, Gojo went and laid on the couch. He didn't plan on sleeping, not while Megumi's fever was still a concern, but it wasn't like he had much else to do. Pulling out his phone, Gojo shot Shoko a quick text informing her of Megumi's fever and giving her a heads-up that he'd call if it got worse. He didn't receive a reply, but saw the little notification that his text had been read. Honestly, Gojo wasn't sure whether Shoko was an actual doctor—he never bothered to ask—but she had always been Gojo's rock when it came to helping him with the kids.
Ten years and not much had changed.
Gojo closed his eyes as he let out a tired sigh. If someone had told Gojo twelve years ago that he'd one day be responsible for two kids, he'd have laughed in their face. Gojo hated kids—thought they were all brats and nothing more than small troublemakers. Now, Gojo couldn't imagine what life would have been like without Megumi and Tsumiki around—without all those little moments that made raising the two of them worth every second.
- - -
Gojo jolted awake as something heavy landed on his chest. He smelled what it was before he saw the takeout bag, his stomach grumbling at the promise of food. Gojo hadn't had a good old fast-food burger in some time. Shoko stood over him, an amused smile dancing on her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Morning—or should I say good afternoon."
Gojo groaned as he sat up, the room swaying uncomfortably. "What time is it?"
"It's almost noon," Shoko informed him before adding, "I already let Yaga know that you'd be absent from class today. Kusakabe is handling the first-years while you're out."
"Thanks."
Plucking a burger out of the bag, Gojo happily dug in while Shoko looked around. Gojo clocked the moment her eyes landed on the pile of supplies laid out on the kitchen counter. Everything from cough syrup to cooling patches and heating pads. Megumi hadn't merely been battling a cold; he waged an all-out war, and Gojo had broken out his entire arsenal. Shoko's gaze quickly found the bedroom door. From where he sat on the couch, Gojo could see Megumi's spiky hair sticking out from underneath the comforter.
"Rough night?"
"You don't know the half of it," Gojo grumbled around a mouthful of food. "That's the third blanket I've given him since last night. His fever broke for a little while, and I had the wonderful idea of getting him to eat something. Unfortunately, all I had was leftover yakitori."
He was never going to make that mistake again. Poor Megumi—just when he was finally getting comfortable, too. Gojo gave up trying to get Megumi to stop apologizing after he threw up the second time. He was pretty sure he spent more time comforting Megumi than he did cleaning up after him. It didn't matter what Gojo said—nothing was going to make Megumi feel any less mortified.
"Want me to give him a look?"
"Nah. His fever broke around six—he's been sound asleep since."
"That's good," Shoko said as she turned her attention to Gojo. "What about you—you need anything?"
"More burgers."
Shoko had only brought him five, and after spending the better half of the night dealing with a sick kid, Gojo was starving. Five wouldn't have been enough to satiate his appetite on a good day!
"You're unbelievable," Shoko said, fondness lacing her words. She shook her head as she headed for the front door, calling over her shoulder, "Don't starve before I get back!"
With that, Gojo was back to being alone with a sick kid. At least Megumi was a lot better off than he was last night. Truth be told, Gojo hadn't checked his temperature in a while—not since falling asleep. As much as Megumi needed his rest, it was probably for the best that Gojo check soon. That, and get some fluids in him before dehydration became a problem. Sinking back into the couch, Gojo figured he'd get right to it as soon as he was done eating.