( He's had his curses deliver gifts for mostly everyone in his small circle, too discomforted with the date to do anything but brood by himself in the quiet of his room. Maybe it says something that he even thought to do that, but he's not sure what, doesn't want to examine it too closely either way. He has the last of the presents left to deliver though, and he looks at the curse waiting before him, then to the bag, then to the wall before he sighs. It's disbanded just as easily as it's summoned, Geto climbing to his feet and snagging the parcel up between his fingertips. It feels monumental to shove slippers on his feet, check his hair in the mirror, but then he's out and at Gojo's door without another thought.
It opens, and Geto blinks at him, letting out a small half-mad sigh before he's muscling his way in. He hears the door close behind him more than he sees it, steeling himself to offer up the present, hoping that it will go better than Gojo's birthday. But it seems ... insignificant, suddenly. The gift gets set aside in silence, and Geto turns on his heel, dark gaze sweeping over the other man from head to toe.
He makes a shushing noise when Gojo opens his mouth, closing the distance between them just as sharply. Fingertips snag at the bandages wrapped around his best friend's face, tugging a loop down to expose the wild blue of his eyes. Then his palm flattens, cups around his cheek, whatever was left between them invaded as Geto pushes Gojo all the way back, pressing him against the door. His mouth follows, a bruising kiss that turns tender within seconds, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. It is, actually. He doesn't know why he waited. )
let's pretend it's the 24th
It opens, and Geto blinks at him, letting out a small half-mad sigh before he's muscling his way in. He hears the door close behind him more than he sees it, steeling himself to offer up the present, hoping that it will go better than Gojo's birthday. But it seems ... insignificant, suddenly. The gift gets set aside in silence, and Geto turns on his heel, dark gaze sweeping over the other man from head to toe.
He makes a shushing noise when Gojo opens his mouth, closing the distance between them just as sharply. Fingertips snag at the bandages wrapped around his best friend's face, tugging a loop down to expose the wild blue of his eyes. Then his palm flattens, cups around his cheek, whatever was left between them invaded as Geto pushes Gojo all the way back, pressing him against the door. His mouth follows, a bruising kiss that turns tender within seconds, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. It is, actually. He doesn't know why he waited. )