Stella

Usually, it was Tim that did this type of field work, due to his position in Wayne Tech.

It made sense for such a tech savvy dude to be here, hell, Barbara was twice as qualified to be around people at this gala.

But Tim was busy, and Babs was currently the cricket in his ear telling him what to do.

Dick wasn’t exactly thrilled to be here, given his previous history with the Stark family. 

He just prayed you were abroad during this whole gala.

.

.

.

.

You truly were your father’s daughter. 

You were the ‘result’ of a previous affair of Tony Stark, in which he gained custody of you by the time you were six years old.  

By the age you were eighteen, you already started the biomedical engineering program at MIT, followed shortly by a small stint in Oxford before coming back to the States as top in your father’s company, leading a research team in technological advancements for enhanced individuals. 

Dick couldn’t help but admit you had quite the resume since you last saw him. And that’s without mentioning any other side quests you entertained yourself with. 

You had clearly changed from being the daddy’s girl he dated to a cunning woman.

Currently, you sat in front of Pepper and Tony, carefully applying lipstick. 

“Oh, that's not what you want.” Pepper sighed, eyes on her phone.

“What’s up?” Your dad asked, looking past her shoulder. 

She gave a tight lipped smile. “We have one of Bruce Wayne’s boys at the gala.”

Tony snorted, fixing his watch. “Perfect, another meddling businessman in my own house.”

You frowned, lips pursed as you put the lipstick back in your Channel purse. “Which one is it? He’s got like a bunch.”

Pepper hummed with a nod. “Richard Grayson. You know him?”

Your heart sped up at the name, your lips pulling up in a mischievous smile. Oh, the night was gonna be a fun one for sure. 

“I’ll handle him, Pepper. Don’t worry.”

.

.

.

Dick was waiting outside by the time the limousine pulled up.

He froze when he saw the first person to exit the car was none other than you. 

You, clad in a deep red dress, a beautiful diamond necklace resting on your neck, a yellow diamond dangling in the middle of the chain. Just stunning. 

Dick gulped, the flute of champagne slipping from his fingers from all the perspiration that suddenly made his hands clammy. 

Luckily, the broken glass was hidden by all the flashes of camera and questions from the paparazzi.

“Oh fuck.” Dick cursed, hauling ass to the door of Stark tower, heading directly to the bar. 

“You okay, Dick?” Barbara’s voice chirped from his ear piece.

He nodded, as if Babs could see him before sighing. “Yeah. I just…My ex is here.”

His face fell when he heard Babs chuckle over the line. “You’re telling me you dated Stark’s daughter? As in one of the snobiest women in New York.”

Dick pursed his lips, shooting a look in your direction. “She’s not…She’s not like that. That’s just a front she puts on for the cameras. She’s not actually a bimbo. She’s actually very sweet.” He mumbled, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

“So why did you break up?” 

It was dumb, truly. He remembered it like it was yesterday. 

The two of you, freshly seventeen, hanging out in your villa in the Hamptons. The two of you were cuddled up on one of the lounge chairs, basking in the sun after a quite pleasant day in your bed. 

You had broken the news to him that you got into MIT, and that you would be moving there for the next few years. 

You had invited him to live with you for those few years. And just like that the gravity of the situation had fallen on him.

You two had been secretly dating since you were fifteen, and you thought that it was a good time to ask him to take the next big step. 

He firmly turned down the offer, and when you kindly told him that it was okay and that you’d still visit him, he snapped. He broke up with you, admitting to his nightly activities and calling you selfish for trying to pull him away from his duties. 

Truth be told, it was a dick move (no pun intended). He was simply put off by your acceptance and willingness to compromise, something that he was never used to ever since Bruce took him in.

“Uhm, I was still Robin. And I wanted to protect her.” He lied straight through his teeth. 

“Well, I guess you’ll take one for the team.”

Dick frowned, standing straighter. “What…What do you mean?”

“This is an intelligence mission, Dick, charm her into giving you information. But don’t break code.”

“What constitutes breaking code?”

Babs smiled, eyes on the security cameras. “Whatever you do, don’t sleep with her.”

Right. 

Dick Grayson was a man filled with self control. He’s on a mission.

Dick Grayson was not going to sleep with you.

“Oh my god, Dickie, what the hell are you doing here?” Dick’s heart practically fell to his stomach at your soft tone. 

You were there, right beside him and flashing him a charming smile.

It was off putting, frankly. He expected something worse, like a slap in the face, or a knee in the balls. 

He said your name, a polite smile on his lips as his eyes drifted downwards.

Focus. 

“That’s no way to greet an old friend.” You said teasingly, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

He cleared his throat, pulling away from you with blushing cheeks.

You knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Uhm, how…how have you been?”

You lit up at the question. “Oh, great. I’ve been recently working on-” You cut yourself off, ordering a drink. 

He nodded mindlessly, trying to get more info on your projects. 

You sighed, shaking your head. “You know what? It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about work.”

Dick smiled, internally freaking out and trying to come up with a way to get something out of you. “Why’s that?”

You pouted, resting a hand on his, your fingers caressing his knuckles. “I’ve just…I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time for anything. I haven’t tanned, worked out. Heck, I had to decline a Victoria Secret collab for their new line of winter lingerie.” You whined, looking up at him.

Dick’s throat went dry, nodding mindlessly. “That…That sounds amaz- I mean, I’m sorry for your troubles.” He mumbled, your words painting a pretty…vivid image.

You nodded, matching his pace. “And…well, I’ve been working on something pretty important, too.”

“What?”

“Contacts that can detect any metal or wiring on a person.” You said, looking up at him with a smirk.

Dick froze at your words, blinking before pulling away. Shit, so you already knew what he was trying to do.

 “Look, I’m sorry-”

“Did you really think I’m that dumb?” You huffed, sitting up. “I’m an MIT and Oxford graduate, Dick, with honors. I have my own division of Stark enterprises. I own over ten charities helping millions around the world. And you think that a bit of sweet talk will make me blab?”

Dick stayed quiet, watching your furious expression. God, you were just as beautiful as the day he left you. 

Abruptly, he took his earpiece off, dipping it in his glass of whiskey. He did the same with the wire taped inside his suit jacket, ripping it off and tossing it in a passing tray of trash.

You frowned at his display of honesty, not sure where he was going with this. 

“There. Now we can talk.”

You pursed your lips, looking away. “There’s nothing to talk about, Dick.”

He shook his eyes, blue eyes staring deep into you. “I got sent here to get information on your dad’s tech. To make sure he was using it for good.” He said earnestly.

You raised an eyebrow, heart speeding up a bit. “You didn’t come here to say sorry too?”

“Now I am.” He declared, taking your hands in his. 

You froze, heart stuttering at his touch. A decade later, and Dick still had that boyish charm that made fifteen year old you fall head over heels with him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I…I ever made you feel less.” He started softly, clearing his throat. “It wasn’t right of me to do that. We were just…dumb and in love. And I ruined it because I thought I wasn’t worthy of you. Because I thought that…everything was moving too quickly. I should’ve communicated that.” 

Your face remained neutral, nodding at his words as he paused for a deep breath. 

“But…I learned that now. And I understand if you reject me, throw a drink at me, hell i’ll let you get three shots in.” He said with a fragile chuckle.

“I’ll hold you to that offer.” You said softly, eyes tearing up as you took in a deep breath.

He grinned, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re an amazing woman, Miss Stark, and only a dickhead like me would fumble such a beautiful and kind girl.”

You blushed at that, pursing your lips to avoid them from trembling. 

“Nothing will ever make up for what I did, but…maybe a dance will lighten the pain?” Dick proposed. 

He looked down at you, eyes glinting in hope and a slight bit of desperation. 

You stayed quiet before sniffling, letting out a chuckle. “One dance.” You said, holding up a finger. 

“Yes ma’am.” Dick nodded, gently leading you to the dance floor. 

.

.

.

You, in fact, did not share just one dance.

More like five dances, a hundred stories, a whole bottle of white wine and currently the same chair. 

You giggled drunkenly, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m starving, pretty boy.” You slurred softly, your calf in Dick’s hand as he gently massaged your aching foot with the other. 

“No worries, Miss Stark, I’m sure we can find some leftover caviar.” Dick teased in a posh accent. 

You smacked his chest, letting out a soft snort. “I’m thinking cheese burgers.”

He hummed, pretty blue eyes taking in your lax state. “You read my mind, baby.”

You smiled, sitting up as you reached for your phone. “I’ll tell Happy to start the car.”

And like that, you two started walking. He held your heels in his hand, careful not to bang them up too badly. 

Just as you were about to leave, you heard a call of your name. You turned, smiling as you saw Tony approach. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He said with a teasing smile. You gave him a mock pout. 

“We’re getting burgers, Tony.”

“Who’s driving?”

“Happy.”

Tony hummed, eyeing Dick who stood beside you.

You let out a small sound of surprise. “Daddy, you remember Dick, right?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, glaring daggers into Dick. The younger man gulped, holding out a hand to shake. 

“The pool boy?”

You let out a huff at his words, rolling your eyes. “My ex. Oh, Happy’s here.” You said, scurrying away to get in the car with surprising coordination. 

You were probably trying to get away from the awkwardness of the situation.

Dick gulped. “Sir.” 

Tony sighed, gripping his hand harshly. “One scratch on her and I’ll personally demonstrate my fire power on you, boy.”

Dick nodded quickly, shaking his hand. “Yes, of course sir.” 

Tony pulled away, nodding before dipping a hand into his suit pocket, slapping some cash into Dick’s hand. 

“Get mine with extra pickles. Oh, and one of those chicken burgers for Pepper, she hates beef.” Tony ordered before walking away. 

Dick sighed, his nerves calming down as he stared at the bills in his hand. 

“Oh, and maybe come with us when we do our trip to the Hamptons, Happy needs a break from carrying my babygirl’s bags.”

Wow, that was the closest he’s ever gotten to trust from Tony Stark. 

Usually, it was Tim that did this type of field work, due to his position in Wayne Tech.

It made sense for such a tech savvy dude to be here, hell, Barbara was twice as qualified to be around people at this gala.

But Tim was busy, and Babs was currently the cricket in his ear telling him what to do.

Dick wasn’t exactly thrilled to be here, given his previous history with the Stark family. 

He just prayed you were abroad during this whole gala.

.

.

.

.

You truly were your father’s daughter. 

You were the ‘result’ of a previous affair of Tony Stark, in which he gained custody of you by the time you were six years old.  

By the age you were eighteen, you already started the biomedical engineering program at MIT, followed shortly by a small stint in Oxford before coming back to the States as top in your father’s company, leading a research team in technological advancements for enhanced individuals. 

Dick couldn’t help but admit you had quite the resume since you last saw him. And that’s without mentioning any other side quests you entertained yourself with. 

You had clearly changed from being the daddy’s girl he dated to a cunning woman.

Currently, you sat in front of Pepper and Tony, carefully applying lipstick. 

“Oh, that's not what you want.” Pepper sighed, eyes on her phone.

“What’s up?” Your dad asked, looking past her shoulder. 

She gave a tight lipped smile. “We have one of Bruce Wayne’s boys at the gala.”

Tony snorted, fixing his watch. “Perfect, another meddling businessman in my own house.”

You frowned, lips pursed as you put the lipstick back in your Channel purse. “Which one is it? He’s got like a bunch.”

Pepper hummed with a nod. “Richard Grayson. You know him?”

Your heart sped up at the name, your lips pulling up in a mischievous smile. Oh, the night was gonna be a fun one for sure. 

“I’ll handle him, Pepper. Don’t worry.”

.

.

.

Dick was waiting outside by the time the limousine pulled up.

He froze when he saw the first person to exit the car was none other than you. 

You, clad in a deep red dress, a beautiful diamond necklace resting on your neck, a yellow diamond dangling in the middle of the chain. Just stunning. 

Dick gulped, the flute of champagne slipping from his fingers from all the perspiration that suddenly made his hands clammy. 

Luckily, the broken glass was hidden by all the flashes of camera and questions from the paparazzi.

“Oh fuck.” Dick cursed, hauling ass to the door of Stark tower, heading directly to the bar. 

“You okay, Dick?” Barbara’s voice chirped from his ear piece.

He nodded, as if Babs could see him before sighing. “Yeah. I just…My ex is here.”

His face fell when he heard Babs chuckle over the line. “You’re telling me you dated Stark’s daughter? As in one of the snobiest women in New York.”

Dick pursed his lips, shooting a look in your direction. “She’s not…She’s not like that. That’s just a front she puts on for the cameras. She’s not actually a bimbo. She’s actually very sweet.” He mumbled, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

“So why did you break up?” 

It was dumb, truly. He remembered it like it was yesterday. 

The two of you, freshly seventeen, hanging out in your villa in the Hamptons. The two of you were cuddled up on one of the lounge chairs, basking in the sun after a quite pleasant day in your bed. 

You had broken the news to him that you got into MIT, and that you would be moving there for the next few years. 

You had invited him to live with you for those few years. And just like that the gravity of the situation had fallen on him.

You two had been secretly dating since you were fifteen, and you thought that it was a good time to ask him to take the next big step. 

He firmly turned down the offer, and when you kindly told him that it was okay and that you’d still visit him, he snapped. He broke up with you, admitting to his nightly activities and calling you selfish for trying to pull him away from his duties. 

Truth be told, it was a dick move (no pun intended). He was simply put off by your acceptance and willingness to compromise, something that he was never used to ever since Bruce took him in.

“Uhm, I was still Robin. And I wanted to protect her.” He lied straight through his teeth. 

“Well, I guess you’ll take one for the team.”

Dick frowned, standing straighter. “What…What do you mean?”

“This is an intelligence mission, Dick, charm her into giving you information. But don’t break code.”

“What constitutes breaking code?”

Babs smiled, eyes on the security cameras. “Whatever you do, don’t sleep with her.”

Right. 

Dick Grayson was a man filled with self control. He’s on a mission.

Dick Grayson was not going to sleep with you.

“Oh my god, Dickie, what the hell are you doing here?” Dick’s heart practically fell to his stomach at your soft tone. 

You were there, right beside him and flashing him a charming smile.

It was off putting, frankly. He expected something worse, like a slap in the face, or a knee in the balls. 

He said your name, a polite smile on his lips as his eyes drifted downwards.

Focus. 

“That’s no way to greet an old friend.” You said teasingly, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

He cleared his throat, pulling away from you with blushing cheeks.

You knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Uhm, how…how have you been?”

You lit up at the question. “Oh, great. I’ve been recently working on-” You cut yourself off, ordering a drink. 

He nodded mindlessly, trying to get more info on your projects. 

You sighed, shaking your head. “You know what? It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about work.”

Dick smiled, internally freaking out and trying to come up with a way to get something out of you. “Why’s that?”

You pouted, resting a hand on his, your fingers caressing his knuckles. “I’ve just…I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time for anything. I haven’t tanned, worked out. Heck, I had to decline a Victoria Secret collab for their new line of winter lingerie.” You whined, looking up at him.

Dick’s throat went dry, nodding mindlessly. “That…That sounds amaz- I mean, I’m sorry for your troubles.” He mumbled, your words painting a pretty…vivid image.

You nodded, matching his pace. “And…well, I’ve been working on something pretty important, too.”

“What?”

“Contacts that can detect any metal or wiring on a person.” You said, looking up at him with a smirk.

Dick froze at your words, blinking before pulling away. Shit, so you already knew what he was trying to do.

 “Look, I’m sorry-”

“Did you really think I’m that dumb?” You huffed, sitting up. “I’m an MIT and Oxford graduate, Dick, with honors. I have my own division of Stark enterprises. I own over ten charities helping millions around the world. And you think that a bit of sweet talk will make me blab?”

Dick stayed quiet, watching your furious expression. God, you were just as beautiful as the day he left you. 

Abruptly, he took his earpiece off, dipping it in his glass of whiskey. He did the same with the wire taped inside his suit jacket, ripping it off and tossing it in a passing tray of trash.

You frowned at his display of honesty, not sure where he was going with this. 

“There. Now we can talk.”

You pursed your lips, looking away. “There’s nothing to talk about, Dick.”

He shook his eyes, blue eyes staring deep into you. “I got sent here to get information on your dad’s tech. To make sure he was using it for good.” He said earnestly.

You raised an eyebrow, heart speeding up a bit. “You didn’t come here to say sorry too?”

“Now I am.” He declared, taking your hands in his. 

You froze, heart stuttering at his touch. A decade later, and Dick still had that boyish charm that made fifteen year old you fall head over heels with him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I…I ever made you feel less.” He started softly, clearing his throat. “It wasn’t right of me to do that. We were just…dumb and in love. And I ruined it because I thought I wasn’t worthy of you. Because I thought that…everything was moving too quickly. I should’ve communicated that.” 

Your face remained neutral, nodding at his words as he paused for a deep breath. 

“But…I learned that now. And I understand if you reject me, throw a drink at me, hell i’ll let you get three shots in.” He said with a fragile chuckle.

“I’ll hold you to that offer.” You said softly, eyes tearing up as you took in a deep breath.

He grinned, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re an amazing woman, Miss Stark, and only a dickhead like me would fumble such a beautiful and kind girl.”

You blushed at that, pursing your lips to avoid them from trembling. 

“Nothing will ever make up for what I did, but…maybe a dance will lighten the pain?” Dick proposed. 

He looked down at you, eyes glinting in hope and a slight bit of desperation. 

You stayed quiet before sniffling, letting out a chuckle. “One dance.” You said, holding up a finger. 

“Yes ma’am.” Dick nodded, gently leading you to the dance floor. 

.

.

.

You, in fact, did not share just one dance.

More like five dances, a hundred stories, a whole bottle of white wine and currently the same chair. 

You giggled drunkenly, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m starving, pretty boy.” You slurred softly, your calf in Dick’s hand as he gently massaged your aching foot with the other. 

“No worries, Miss Stark, I’m sure we can find some leftover caviar.” Dick teased in a posh accent. 

You smacked his chest, letting out a soft snort. “I’m thinking cheese burgers.”

He hummed, pretty blue eyes taking in your lax state. “You read my mind, baby.”

You smiled, sitting up as you reached for your phone. “I’ll tell Happy to start the car.”

And like that, you two started walking. He held your heels in his hand, careful not to bang them up too badly. 

Just as you were about to leave, you heard a call of your name. You turned, smiling as you saw Tony approach. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He said with a teasing smile. You gave him a mock pout. 

“We’re getting burgers, Tony.”

“Who’s driving?”

“Happy.”

Tony hummed, eyeing Dick who stood beside you.

You let out a small sound of surprise. “Daddy, you remember Dick, right?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, glaring daggers into Dick. The younger man gulped, holding out a hand to shake. 

“The pool boy?”

You let out a huff at his words, rolling your eyes. “My ex. Oh, Happy’s here.” You said, scurrying away to get in the car with surprising coordination. 

You were probably trying to get away from the awkwardness of the situation.

Dick gulped. “Sir.” 

Tony sighed, gripping his hand harshly. “One scratch on her and I’ll personally demonstrate my fire power on you, boy.”

Dick nodded quickly, shaking his hand. “Yes, of course sir.” 

Tony pulled away, nodding before dipping a hand into his suit pocket, slapping some cash into Dick’s hand. 

“Get mine with extra pickles. Oh, and one of those chicken burgers for Pepper, she hates beef.” Tony ordered before walking away. 

Dick sighed, his nerves calming down as he stared at the bills in his hand. 

“Oh, and maybe come with us when we do our trip to the Hamptons, Happy needs a break from carrying my babygirl’s bags.”

Wow, that was the closest he’s ever gotten to trust from Tony Stark. 

"… yes, well. i'll talk to him, thank you for letting me know. have a good day." your mind was elsewhere as you took your tight-lipped son out of the classroom, and the silence stretched all throughout the car ride home moreover. you snuck a couple glances into the backseat and he still held that far away look in his eyes as he stared out the rainy window.

when you entered the dimly light apartment you two shared, you set his backpack and things on the breakfast nook. megumi could tell you were gearing up to say something, so he stops in the hallway after he's pulled off his ratty red tennis shoes. you wondered when exactly he'd learned that silence; swallowing his thoughts instead of sharing them with all the graceless honesty children his age were supposed to have.

"megs honey, c'mere."

"i'm okay, mom."

you give him a softly stern look and his mouth presses into a thin line. for a second, you see the argument forming behind his eyes, but he seems to think better of it. begrudgingly, megumi pads his way back toward the kitchen and climbs onto one of the stools at the breakfast nook.

you stand in front of him.

up close, the bruise looks worse and your stomach twists.

"who hit you?"

"it doesn't matter."

"megumi."

"he got hit too."

you blink. goodness, those public school teachers really don't pay attention. "thank you for letting me know, but that's not what i asked."

his gaze drops toward the counter. the refrigerator hums behind you, rain tapping unevenly against the balcony doors. you take a slow breath through your nose before speaking again.

"your teacher said there was a fight. she didn't see what started it." you pause, studying his face. "so i'm asking you, because i'd like to know what my kid has to say first."

something in your voice makes him look up and you soften immediately. god, he was so little. sometimes you forgot.

megumi had always carried himself with an odd seriousness that made people speak to him older than he was, so much so even you were guilty of it sometimes. he'd been tying his own shoes before the other kids in his class, packing away his own belongings without being asked, checking that the front door was locked whenever you came home late from work. he never even begged for toys or new gadgets, and that should've worried you sooner.

you reach out carefully, brushing your thumb underneath the uninjured side of his face.

a cute little pout formed on his mouth. "he was being annoying, okay?"

"you punched someone because they were annoying? that doesn't sound like you."

"makoto said something stupid about you." his jaw clenches. you knew the kid's mother, a rather standoffish lady you grew up with. born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

you know that face. it's the one with a stubborn furrow between his brows, the one he gets whenever he doesn't understand why the world refuses to operate according to the rigid sense of justice that reminds you far too much of someone you once knew. your son was never the violent type, but there were a couple things that he felt deeply passionate about.

you weren't oblivious, you knew there probably were questions from classmates. why doesn't your dad ever come to school events? where did he go? is your dad dead?

children were curious, but they were also capable of being cruel without knowing the difference.

"what did he say about me?"

megumi's eyes flick toward yours before dropping again.

"he said you must be bad."

your brows knit together in confusion. "bad?"

"he said it's your fault dad left us."

the words settle heavily in the apartment. you don't find words to respond quickly enough, so he continues.

"and he said his mom said women like you can't keep men."

you had gotten good at ignoring adults. from distant relatives with loud opinions that talked behind your back, to "well-meaning" acquaintances who had looked at you like your life was an unfortunate cautionary tale instead of something you'd fought tooth and nail to build. it was unfortunate children were malleable clay that parroted what they heard.

"so i punched him, 'cus that's not true."

your gaze snaps back to your son. megumi looks almost defiant now, chin tipped slightly upward. oh, your poor baby boy.

"he shouldn't have said it."

"i agree, he shouldn't have."

his expression changes slightly, surprised by your quick support. he was sure you were getting ready to scold him. "but you still can't punch people, my love."

"why?"

"because that's not how i taught you to solve your problems."

megumi slides off the stool suddenly, frustration working across his features. "he wouldn't stop, mom!"

"then you should've told your teacher."

"she wouldn't do anything!"

"you don't know that."

"yes, i do!"

the certainty in his voice catches you off guard.

"they always say stuff, and nobody cares!"

his face crumples for half a second before he forces it away. the anger dissipates, and you can see the tears forming in his eyes. your chest tightens painfully.

"hey… hey."

you crouch down in front of him. megumi immediately looks elsewhere. you knew he hated to cry in front of you nowadays.

"look at me."

you wait until eventually, reluctantly, those watery dark eyes meet yours.

"you don't have to defend me."

"i do, you're my mom."

you shake your head. "no, baby. you don't."

he hates when you call him that now. usually you'd get an immediate grimace, some irritated insistence that he wasn't a baby anymore. this time however, he says nothing.

"like you said, i'm your mom." your hands settle gently on his shoulders. "i'm supposed to protect you, you're not supposed to spend your day worrying about protecting me." you can tell he's listening. his lower lip is still trembling despite how hard he's trying to keep it still.

"you know what matters more than what they say? what you know." your hands move to cup his tiny face. "i know who i am, and i know who you are. nobody gets to decide either of those things for us."

you pull him into your chest without a warning and megumi stiffens instinctively, embarrassed by affection even in the privacy of your apartment but you don't let go. after a few seconds, the tension leaves his shoulders and his forehead presses into the crook of your neck.

"the next time this happens, you tell me," you murmur against his hair. "if your teacher isn't listening, then i'll make her listen."

"you'll embarrass me."

you smile despite yourself. "yeah, i probably will."

"mooom!" even though he sounded irritated, a muffled laugh escapes against your shoulder. there he was. your fingers comb gently through the spiky, shaded mess of his hair. you stand up, walking towards your noisy fridge and grab a frozen bag of peas from the freezer.

"now sit back down and put this on your bruise before your eye swells shut. can't have my kid looking like rocky." he climbs onto the stool again, obliging without protest. though, a question mark appears on his face.

"who's rocky?"

you groan. "honey, you're making me feel old."

the rest of the evening passes quietly. you make dinner and megumi finishes most of it while complaining that the vegetables taste weird despite them being the exact same vegetables he'd eaten two nights ago without complaint. you let him have the argument this time. after today, you figured he deserves one meaningless victory.

by the time the rain settles down outside, the apartment has grown warm with that particular nighttime stillness you'd learned to appreciate. the television plays quietly from the living room while you wash two plates in the sink, and megumi is sprawled on the couch doing his homework until you tell him to wrap up for bed.

when he's finally changed into pajamas and climbed beneath the blankets, exhaustion has taken over your son. his bruised eye still looks awful beneath the warm light of the bedside lamp, and even though you'd checked it several times throughout the evening, you find yourself inspecting it once more as you sit beside him and gently sweep his bangs away from his forehead. megumi tolerates the attention for a few seconds before sinking deeper into his pillow with a sigh.

"mom, you've looked at it like a hundred times and it still looks the same, i don't think staring is going to make it disappear."

"i'm aware that glaring at a bruise is not medically proven treatment, thank you very much smartypants." you chide, smoothing the blanket over his chest before your expression softens again.

"megumi, honey, listen to me because i'm being completely serious right now. i know i don't always have every answer. our life isn't exactly like everybody else's, but there has never been a day where taking care of you felt like a burden i wished i could put down. you are my favorite person in this entire world. even though i don't condone what you did today… between you and me, that kid deserved it."

megumi's mouth twitches slightly. "you said i shouldn't have punched him, but you also said he deserved it... i think you're sending me mixed messages."

you let out a quiet mocked gasp and gently pinch his cheek. "i said no such thing."

"you kindaaaa did."

"i kinda-absolutely-did-not! goodness, this conversation is supposed to be about how deeply and unconditionally i love you, you little menace."

that manages to get a small laugh from him, and the sound immediately fills you with happiness. you bend down and press a long kiss against his forehead, then rest your hand against his hair as you speak more quietly. "can i get an 'i love you' for the road?"

he watches you for another moment before mumbling an "i love you". you smile and brush your thumb over his temple before standing.

"goodnight, megumi."

"goodnight, mama."

the sincerity in his voice pangs in your heart. you hadn't heard him call you mama in a good while. when you glance back, he's already curling toward the wall with the blanket tucked underneath his chin. you leave the door cracked the way he still secretly prefers and stand there for several seconds longer than necessary, watching until his breathing begins to even out.

only once you're back in the kitchen does the weight of the day settle. you feel pathetic for letting makoto's cruel comment ruin your night, even more so because you know it wasn't really the child who'd gotten beneath your skin. perhaps, part of you still worried they were right. not about megumi—never about him. but rather about yourself. you stare at the half-clean kitchen for another minute before deciding you've had enough emotionally mature mom-ing for one evening.

"fuck it," you whisper to yourself, opening the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulling down the cheap bottle of wine you saved for moments like this. you pour yourself a generous glass and carry it toward the living room. after a few bitter sips, a knock echoes from the front door. for a few seconds you wondered whether you'd imagined it due to how late it was. another rap comes a moment later, heavier and more deliberate this time.

you set the wine glass on the coffee table and glance toward the hallway by habit, checking that megumi's bedroom door remains undisturbed before approaching the entrance. nobody you knew had any business coming over at this time without calling first, and the uneasiness gathering in your stomach only worsens as you lean forward and look through the peephole. your entire body goes cold at the realization. what a sick coincidence.

there was no logical reason for toji fushiguro to be standing outside your apartment after years of silence. you unlock the door but keep the chain latched, opening it only enough to stare at him through the narrow gap. "i'm assuming there's some emergency happening, because i can't imagine another reason you would think showing up at my apartment without warning was even a remotely acceptable thing to do."

toji's gaze moves over your face before flicking toward the chain. "wow, nice to see you too."

you almost laugh at the audacity. "you don't get to feel any kind of way right now, toji. i didn't ask you to come here."

his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "if you're planning on turning this into an argument, save yourself the effort because i didn't come here to fight with you."

"unless you have something useful to say, i suggest you leave."

toji exhales through his nose, his patience already wearing thin in that familiar way that used to drive you insane. "can you open the damn door first? i don't feel like airing our personal shit where every fucking person on this floor can hear us."

you scoff in disbelief. you remember all those months passing without so much as a text message, and whatever sympathy that was threatening to surface disappears immediately.

"you gonna let me in or not?"

you stare at him for several long seconds before shutting the door in his face. there's an immediate thud against the other side.

"babe, seriously?"

"i'm taking the chain off, jackass. don't call me that."

the hallway falls quiet. you remove the chain and reopen the door, stepping aside just enough for him to enter.

"five minutes, toji. i'm serious. i've got work and megumi has school tomorrow. unlike some people, we operate with an actual schedule."

his eyes narrow slightly as he walks past you. "you always gotta throw something in there, don't you?"

"you give me plenty of material."

you close the door quietly behind him and fold your arms across your chest. there had been a time when toji's presence could consume whatever room he entered, when you knew the shape his jacket in the back of your mind and exactly where he'd kick his shoes despite you asking him a thousand times not to leave them in the walkway. now, he looks almost displaced.

his gaze drifts across the apartment and you hate yourself for noticing every place it lands. megumi's backpack is still on the breakfast nook with his homework folder peeking out, the corner of one worksheet folded where he'd erased too aggressively earlier. the frozen bag of peas sits abandoned beside the sink, already softened enough that condensation covered it. from your shared past experiences, he knew you always kept a spare bag when he came home from a bad job. toji's eyes linger there.

"something happen?"

you know better and should've lied because the last thing you needed was to give toji ammo to stay longer. alas, your honesty betrays you.

"megumi got into a fight at school." toji's attention snaps toward you so quickly that you immediately regret saying anything.

"what? our megumi?"

that jilts you. when did he believe he had any claim over your son?

you answer flatly. "he's fine."

"what do you mean he got into a fight?"

"i mean exactly what i said, toji. before you start working yourself up, i've already handled it and he's sleeping now."

his expression darkens. "just tell me what happened."

you exhale slowly and move toward the coffee table, reaching for your wine because you need something to do with your hands when you got on edge. "another boy said something, megumi punched him, the other kid hit him back. he has a little shiner, that's it."

"what did the kid say?"

you take an extended sip.

"mm, it doesn't concern you."

"stop, don't do that."

you look at him over the rim of your glass. "don't do what?"

"hide whatever caused this. obviously it fucking matters if a level-headed kid like megumi hit somebody first."

"interesting. coulda fooled me that you're the expert on my child."

the words leave your mouth before you can stop them and toji's jaw ticks. you know what strikes his nerve.

"see, there it is."

"there what is?"

"the actual reason you let me in."

you laugh humourlessly. "you think i invited you inside because i've been waiting forever for an opportunity to argue with you? trust me, toji, i've had plenty of mental arguments when you were gone and they were all more productive than this."

"then tell me what happened instead of playing games."

"i'm not playing games."

"tell me what the fucking kid said!"

you stare down into your glass. you wish, more than anything, that you didn't still possess this stupid, ugly desire for toji to hear what happened and react correctly. not violently or defensively, not with the same pride that had poisoned half your conversations while you were together. that small part of you that still loved him hard wanted him to understand and kiss away your tears and tell you it was going to be okay.

"he told megumi it was my fault you left."

toji's eyebrows pull together, and you continue before you lose your nerve.

"apparently his mother has some opinions about me, and like most people who don't know when to shut their mouth, she shared them where her son could hear. he told megumi that women like me can't keep men, and megumi punched him because he thought he had to defend me."

toji looks away, but you see it. that flash of guilt.

"that's fucked up."

you wait, but nothing else comes. your fingers tighten around the stem of your glass.

"that's it?"

his gaze returns to you. "what do you mean, that's it?"

"i don't know, i suppose i imagined there might be something more substantial. finding out your son got into his first real fight because another child was making fun of him and his mother for not having a father around means nothing, then?"

his expression twists. "don't turn it into that."

"turn it into what?"

"you know what i mean."

"actually i don't, so please explain it to me. i'm dying to know what exactly you're insinuating."

"you're making it sound like i wanted to fucking leave."

you stare at him. you don't even feel angry, just stunned.

"didn't you, though?"

toji exhales sharply, already irritated by the direction the conversation has taken. ""no, of course not. you know damn well that's not how it happened."

"that's funny, because i don't remember being given much information to work with."

his jaw shifts. "you knew what i did for a living."

"don't you dare."

"i'm not throwing it in your face, i'm saying you knew there were gonna be times i couldn't tell you everything."

"everything?" you repeat incredulously, lowering your glass. "toji, i knew you killed people for money, i think we were several miles past the point of expecting full transparency about your work." his expression tightens, but you continue before he can interrupt. "i knew what you were capable of before i ever decided to build a life with you, what it meant when you disappeared. i knew better than to ask names or know where you were going, and god knows i learned very quickly not to ask when you'd be home because half the time you couldn't answer me anyway."

toji's gaze drops.

"you'd leave for a three day job and come back after five, and we'd fight about it because i was worried sick spent those extra forty-eight hours wondering whether something had happened to you. you gave me lousy apologies and we'd move on. those were our bumps, toji. i understood because i had no other choice."

"this wasn't like those jobs, it was high risk."

you laugh quietly, but there is nothing remotely amused in it. "high risk and you took five fucking years."

you hated stating it literally because the duration of his absence felt easier to manage when you didn't give it a time. time blended together more kindly that way, reduced to birthdays and school pictures and clothes megumi outgrew rather than one enormous stretch of life in which toji simply did not exist. a blip where your husband should have been. instead, you lived life like a widow.

"i couldn't contact you, it was too dangerous."

you study his face waiting for signs of bluff, but toji isn't lying and that made it worse.

"and not knowing nearly destroyed me. you don't know how hard it was to care for megumi without knowing whether you were alive or not."

your words shut him up. you set down the glass before your hands can fail with how badly they've begun to shake. you press your lips together, but the emotion has already climbed too high in your throat to force back down.

"i didn't know whether you were somewhere choosing not to call me or whether you were lying dead in a ditch."

"i wasn't dead."

"fuck, i know that now!"

your voice jumps before you can stop it. your eyes dart toward the hallway. the anger drains from your face and toji notices.

"baby, i was trying to come back."

"i said stop calling me that. i don't care because trying didn't help me when megumi had a fever and i was so terrified i stayed awake all night to make sure he was breathing. or when i had to choose between missing work and watching him because daycare fell through even though i wasn't making rent that month."

"did you not get the money i sent you? i thought it was covering something, but—"

"what money are you talking about?"

the irritation that had been taut across his features falters. "the money i sent every month."

you stare back at him with such complete disbelief that his brows slowly upturn, and the horrible realization begins creeping across his face before you even have to answer him. "there was no money. not one cent from you showed up after you disappeared. if somebody convinced you otherwise, then congratulations on trusting the wrong person with the well-being of your family."

"that's not fucking possible. he told me it was handled."

a scoff. "congratulations, you were scammed."

toji drags a hand down his face as he turns away from you, and for once there is no immediate rebuttal, only restless movement as he paced the room. "i left enough to cover the apartment for a long time. i sent it in portions so it wouldn't look suspicious. the whole point was making sure nobody could trace anything back to you or megumi."

"well whoever you trusted clearly decided he needed it more than we did, because i spent the first year after you disappeared selling half the shit we owned just to keep us from drowning."

his head snaps back toward you. "if i'd known there was even a chance the money wasn't getting to you, i would've found another way."

"i don't care about the money, toji!"

toji goes completely still. you let out a shaky breath before continuing, an ache growing in your stomach. "i showed him pictures of you when he cried. i would tell him fairy tales about where you were, but megumi got older and smarter and knew they were pathetic excuses. he stopped asking about you."

"it fucking kills me inside that i missed everything. please, you have to give me a chance."

you blink.

"tell me what i missed. i already know saying i had reasons doesn't magically erase what happened. but he's my son and you're still my wife, and maybe that doesn't mean shit to you anymore—but it means everything to me."

his gaze made you stir still after so long, and the anger between you seems to collapse beneath the exhaustion of finally saying something neither of you had been willing to acknowledge.

"he looks like you when he smiles." your voice cracks when you say it. "every single day he gets closer to looking like your copy. there were so many nights where i'd cry myself to sleep with a picture frame of you. i don't hate you, toji, and that is part of what makes this so fucking unbearable. i needed my husband."

the confession rips out before you can reconsider it. you feel a tear roll down your cheek and finally realize you'd begun crying. he steps closer, slow enough that you could easily move away, but your heartbeat stumbles and you stay put. his hand lifts toward your face, cupping your cheek and you instinctively lean into the touch. his knuckles brush carefully beneath your eye to wipe away stray tears. you should stop him.

your shared muscle memory moves faster than good sense and when his mouth finds yours your body answers out of pure habit. your hand catches automatically against the front of his shirt, and you lean your entire body into the feeling. then reality hits. you pull back so quickly that your shoulder bumps against the edge of the wall, and the sudden nausea rising through your stomach forces you to press one hand against your mouth while the other shoves weakly against his chest.

toji moves away immediately. "shit, i shouldn't have done that."

you stare at him through watery eyes. the look on his face makes you feel worse because he doesn't appear triumphant or smug or even hopeful, only devastated that you seemed regretful.

"i'm sorry."

"you need to leave."

"i swear, i wasn't trying to push you into anything."

you wipe furiously beneath your eyes, your demand still standing. his gaze shifts briefly toward the hallway before returning to you, and the longing there is so obvious that it feels invasive even though he makes no move toward megumi's room.

"just don't let him forget about me, even if you don't tell him i was here tonight."

he pauses.

"i will always love you. to my dying breath."

your face crumples before you can stop it. "get out."

toji's expression breaks slightly, but he nods and pulls the door open without another word, leaving with a click.

you lock the door the instant it closes, your knees finally giving out. you sink onto the floor beside the entrance with one hand clamped over your mouth because the first sob leaves you far louder than you intended. you press your palms against your eyes until colors burst behind them, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet enough that megumi won't hear.

however, you don't hear the faint movement from the bedroom down the hall. megumi stands barefoot just beyond the edge of the living room, mostly hidden by the darkness stretching, with one hand curled tightly around the doorframe and the blanket he'd dragged with him gathered against his chest.

he had woken sometime around the first raised voices, disoriented enough that he'd nearly called for you before recognizing the unfamiliar man's voice coming from the living room. his father had been standing inside their apartment.

and you, his mother, was sitting on the floor beside the front door with her face buried in her hands because of him.

he doesn't approach you. instead, he watches with tears gathering silently in his own eyes before retreating toward his bedroom as carefully as he can manage, closing the door behind himself and crawling beneath the blankets without turning on the light. i hope the bruise stays, he thought to himself. i don't want to look like him.

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What were you thinking? The question rung loud in your head. It bounced and ricocheted off the frontal cortex like a constant reminder that you can’t do this. You can’t move how you want to anymore. No dropkicks, no backflips, no roundhouses or splits, and definitely no jumping from windows, high-rises, or using a freaking zipline to swing to another building. A big part of you kept telling you to just tell Bruce that you can’t. That you can’t join him or Damian on this next mission, but … if you don’t go, who will have his back? Their backs? The others aren’t available, you are.

You sighed as you walked over to your closest and pressed a concealed button underneath the handle. A door hidden in the back clicked as you swung the doors open to the closet. Pushing your clothes aside, you grabbed the metal plate that clicked and pushed it up. Your shoulder screamed in protest. You can’t wear a cape anymore, and you just know that you probably won’t look all that flattering in tights. Tactical gear will have to do.

Your phone beeped a moment later, you glanced at it. You could see a time and a location. Most likely from Bruce. He already told you where it was and when to meet, so he was probably just reminding you. Instead of looking at the text, you opted to get ready. Though, even while getting dressed, you could feel how slow you were. How everything ached by just slipping things on. But it’ll be ok. You have to be ok.

It probably took you longer than you would have liked to get ready, but whatever. It didn’t matter now. At least you were dressed.

You grabbed your phone, and just before leaving your place, you looked back to where your bedroom was. You definitely wouldn’t mind sleeping on that mattress right now. But alas, Batman awaits.

“You’re late.”

You rolled your eyes, “relax boy wonder, I am right on time.”

You looked around for a brief moment. It was dark. Cold. And the clouds overhead threatened to pour rain. No sign of Batman either. The plan starts now. It’s supposed to be short and simple. Sweet even.

You and Damian go in together. Distract the enemy while Bruce gets the data he needs that is hidden within the main quarters of the place. Apparently this current, new, and upcoming drug lord is working on a new fix and plans to incorporate it into Gotham’s drug ring. The downside? It’s strong stuff. One dose kills a person – doesn’t matter if they are safe with their drug use or absolutely abuse the shit out of it. So maybe strong isn’t the right word. It’s lethal. Basically, a poison made to take out an army. But instead of an army – it’s Gotham. If Bruce can get his hands on the blueprints of said drug – he could make an antidote or essentially stop the spread before it can breach this place. And since he knows what he is looking for – that leaves you and Damian to take care of the bad company and distract them.

“I liked your cape better?”

You raised an eyebrow as both you and Damian – er – Robin broke into the compound.

“Thanks?”

You watched him for a moment. Did he just give you a compliment.

“You seemed happier, at least. Both you and father did – when you were not retired.”

“Is that so?”

You motioned for Robin to wait as you heard footsteps. You both waited for a moment until the person came around the corner. You grabbed the front of their gun, yanked it out of their grip before slamming the butt of it hard into their face instantly knocking them out. Before he could hit the floor, you caught him and laid him gently down onto the floor, careful not to make another noise.

“No offense, Robin, but Batman isn’t the jovial type, even with-“

“I’m not talking about Batman and the Justice League. I’m talking about Batman and you.”

Your fingers twitched a bit as you both continued down the hall.

“Robin-“

“Why did you retire?”

You stopped to turn and look at him, “now is not the time-“

“Why did you leave?”

“It’s not like I wanted-“

“Why did you leave me?”

You two stared at one another for a second. Your eyes bore into his while he looked up at you. Leave him? Was that how Damian saw it? Was there a chance that he saw you as a parental figure? Probably not a good one, if he did.

“I’m sorry,” you didn’t know what else to say. Or maybe you did, but you didn’t see this as a good time, “I promise to tell you everything, but for now let’s focus on creating that distraction, all right?”

You hoped that would be good enough, and … with he way Robin was relaxing his stance, you sighed a little with relief.

“Let’s go.”

You both continued onward when you turned your back to him. Honestly, this kid was going to give you some grey hairs. But for now, the least you could do was watch over him and make sure this mission goes as planned.

Bruce Wayne was many things. To you, he’s a friend. Sure you wished he was something more. But you learned to just curb stomp those feelings into nothingness so that you wouldn’t humiliate yourself later on. Because, quite frankly? It was quite difficult to compete with the competition. As Batman there was, of course Cat Woman and Talia (and Wonder Woman too depending on the universe you were in). As Bruce Wayne… you groaned as you held your head in your hands. God, there were so many beautiful women that you just couldn’t compare too.

You weren’t an Amazonian princess like Diana was, but you had a good amount of muscle built up. Or at least, you had muscle. Nowadays it’s just bulk that you decided not to redefine since you retired. Speaking of retirement, that was another problem.

You weren’t old – C R A C K – you winced as you sat up. Ok, maybe you were a bit old. But you weren’t a vigilante anymore. Due to repeated (and very serious) spinal and back injuries, you were basically benched for long periods of time to the point that you were basically pushed into giving up the cape. Nowadays you settle into your hobbies or work a boring job at the library to pass the time. Or you take odd jobs around Gotham (while also tripping up a petty thief running from the cops). All and all, your life was boring, you weren’t exactly “athletic” looking anymore (you swear that if you hit the gym again your bulk will turn to muscle which, in hindsight, it will you just can’t cause your fucking back hurts), you got scars where there shouldn’t be scars and you just can’t seem to find a dress that suites you anymore.

In other words, that perfect happy married life with Bruce shall forever remain a fantasy in your head. You leaned back up against the park bench once more. Today was one of those slow days, nothing to do, no work to be done, no shift at the library you work at until tomorrow. Nothing to do except get lost in thought and wondering ‘would it really be so bad to put the cape back on?’ and then one shift later, one ache later, one light pop later and yeah… it would be bad.

You closed your eyes, but it wasn’t like you could rest for long as you felt a cold sensation press against your forehead a moment later.

You cracked an eye open.

“Bruce? Didn’t expect to see you in the park.”

You sat up again while hiding your wince as he sat next to you on the park bench, his hand holding out a soda can to you.

“No paparazzi either? How does the famous Bruce Wayne do it?”

“Stop that. Is it so hard to believe that I came to see you while also easily evading the paparazzi.”

“No.”

“Ouch.”

You snickered, “penny for your thoughts, B? Or did you just want to come see my beautiful face,” you popped the lid to the can before bringing it to your lips, Bruce doing the same.

“All the questions,” he said smoothly, “is it really so hard to believe that I came to see you because I wanted to?”

“Mmmm, nah. Nowadays it was your … other guy who would come to see me if he needed something, so seeing you here as Bruce, well, I guess one could only wonder just how serious it is.”

He smiled a little, but he didn’t look at you. You weren’t going to lie, that kind of hurt. Bruce nor Batman ever seemed to look.

“I guess you’re right.”

“So what do you need?”

“There’s a mission coming up. It would … make me less worried if I knew you were there.”

That was another thing. You never did tell Batman about your … condition. Or the reason as to why you forced yourself to retire. You figured that since he was a detective he would have figured it out, but then again maybe he saw your retirement as needing a break and not because of your health issues.

“Aren’t the other grown up birds going to be there?”

“It’ll just be me and Damian.”

You tapped your index finger against the can you were holding. A light hum sounding in your throat as you leaned back. You weren’t going to lie, if you had to do a back flip, a roundhouse kick, or jump down from a window you were 100% sure you were going to break most if not all your ribs and maybe your back too, but…

“Alright, alright. I’ll help you out, but remember, you owe me.”

“Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You doubted a date with him would be a suitable answer.

Each day he spent with you revealed more and more about your personality and Sukuna realised that he had begun to fall for you. Not in the puppy crush way, but in a way that had his heart tightening every time he looked into your eyes. He remembers vividly how enthusiastic you were about some old ceramic ornaments you had found at the thrift store. His heart flipped in his chest at the way you rambled on and on about the vintage look and how perfect they would look in your dorm.

Dating you was the exact opposite of what he had thought it would be. Sukuna found himself enjoying the calmer parts of life, something he believed he hadn’t done since he was a child.

He recalls the time when the two of you had entered a strangely competitive game of Monopoly, how avid you had been about buying the entire row of squares.

“Ryo you suck at this,” you had teased, chucking the dice at him. Sukuna rolled his eyes, throwing the dice onto the board with more force than necessary. “Yeah? Didn’t know you had to have any skill to play this stupid game,” he retorted. Gasping in mock offence you bring your hand to your chest, “Uh of course you do. It takes strategy to win.” You giggled at his frustrated expression when his piece landed in jail for the third time this round. Despite his angry demeanour, Sukuna would take this over parties any day.

You seemed to understand him in ways no one else did.

He remembers when he got that fine, it had fucked up his day, after all reviving an extortionate fine was no dream of any college student. Though his demeanour remained cold you continued to try and make his day jusy a little bit brighter.

“Hey?” You had stopped by his last lecture, swaying back and forth on your toes as you spoke. “Hey.” He replied curtly, it wasn’t intentional but he was frankly fed up with everyone that day. “So…” you continued, “I picked up some of that meat you liked from the butchers, I was thinking we could cook something and have a later dinner if you wanted?”

Something twisted in Sukuna’s chest, something soft and fuzzy. He knew how much you hated that place, you claimed that the vibe was too “eerie.”

Had you really gone out of your way for him?

He asks one of the pledges to fetch him another drink and downs it in seconds. Gojo snickers behind his hand, “Stressed are we?” Sukuna scowls, standing up from the chair so quickly that it tipped over. “Where you off to? Taking your stress out on her or what?” He asks crudely before bursting into a fit of giggles. Sukuna huffs out an incoherent response, swaying lightly as he makes his way back into the frat house.

Picking up an extra beer or two he calls you.

You pick up on the third ring, “Ryo! Are you alright? Having fun?” He mumbles something about being too overwhelmed and needing to lie down.

“Can I come over? I can walk.”

By the time he reaches your dorm, it’s well into the night — it’d make more sense to say early morning, really. Immediately Sukuna flops into your bed despite your protests for him to change. “You reek of weed and cheap beer!”

“It wasn’t cheap,” he grumbles.

The alcohol begins to hit him, his brain goes fuzzy as he slips into a drunken headspace. He tugs you into bed with him, pulling you down onto his chest and wrapping his thick arms around you. Sukuna leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then another, and another until you’re giggling in his arms.

“So pretty…” he mumbles hoarsely. You laugh softly, brushing his pink hair away from his forehead, “You’re so drunk.” Shaking his head he disagrees, “Nah, just like the view, s’all,” he slurs with an almost dopey smile.

Leaning in, you tenderly kiss him, moving your lips slowly against his own. The taste of alcohol lingers on his lips, mixed with the salt from his skin.

He smiles against your lips, “I’d stay with you forever, y’know that?”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his confession. “Yeah? You like me that much?”

“Mhm,” he agrees, head falling back against your pillows as he fights sleep. “Even if they stop paying me.”

The air suddenly felt thinner, as if the oxygen around you was immediately sucked out of the room when the words left his mouth. A second of silence passed while you stared at him. “… What?”

He hums absentmindedly, pressing lazy kisses along your jaw whilst his hands trail up your back. “You’re more interesting than they said you were…” his words begin to slur together. “You’re s’cute it makes me dizzy sometimes,” he admits quietly, running his calloused hand down your spine.

You barely register his words, your head spins, still stuck on his confession.

Paying him? What did that even mean?

“Gojo asked if I was still with you today,” he reminisces. “He doesn’t know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, paid or not.”

You cup his cheek, forcing his cloudy eyes to meet yours, “Ryomen, what are you talking about?” His brows pinch together momentarily before his entire face relaxes and his eyes begin to flutter shut. “You’re weird as shit… but I like that about you,” he yawns sleepily. “Maybe that’s why they chose you.” Your heart is beating a mile a minute, threatening to burst out of your chest at any moment. What on earth was he saying?

You can’t even force the words out of your mouth, your throat is dry and you can’t seem to breathe in.

“M’tired,” he murmurs and within seconds his breathing evens out. The room falls deathly silent, the only sounds being Sukuna’s soft breathing and your own frantic breathes.

By morning Sukuna would remember nothing.

You wished you could say the same.