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There was something odd about being in Tomioka Giyuu’s home. Tanjirou couldn’t place it.
He voiced this thought as Giyuu handed him a small ceramic cup of tea. Tanjirou wrapped his hands around it as he waited for Giyuu to answer, feeling the heat seep into the rough skin of his fingertips.
“What, did you think I didn’t have one?”
Giyuu’s impassive expression didn’t change in the slightest, but Tanjirou detected a smidge of humor in his tone. He was getting better at noticing these things. Lately, their missions (or fate, as Tanjirou would like to think) were bringing them together more often, but he still had a limited amount of words from the water pillar to work with, after all.
“Ah, of course not. Though I can’t imagine you spend much time here.”
Tanjirou took Giyuu’s silence as a confirmation. (Giyuu had different kinds of silences, and this one gave off an energy of affirmation. In Tanjirou’s opinion, at least.) He had learned to feel comfortable with these silences, which Giyuu felt no need to fill. The older boy finished pouring his own tea and wordlessly began walking to the porch facing the garden. He didn’t need to turn to know that Tanjirou was following closely behind.
Mid step, Tanjirou jolted, feeling something brush against his calf. Weaving between his legs was a bright eyed calico cat. Patches of black and orange framed an expectant white face, which meowed up at Tanjirou as if in greeting. A drop of tea fell onto the floor beside it, and Tanjirou cursed internally, finally processing the splash of hot tea trickling down his hand.
Ever the diligent demon slayer, he chided himself for not sensing the cat earlier. A brief scan of the smells in his environment revealed another cat near the sliding door, previously concealing its dark coat in the shadows. Its yellow eyes were wary of this stranger in its home, not quite as trusting as the friendly calico.
Giyuu appeared at Tanjirou’s back, wrapping his arms around his to steady his hands. Enveloped in Giyuu’s mismatched haori, he suddenly became conscious of their difference in height — it suddenly felt substantial from this position. The calico, perhaps realizing he was not about to be fed, lost interest and wandered off, only stopping to lovingly rub a cheek against Giyuu’s leg.
“Be more careful,” Giyuu said, voice low. Tanjirou could feel the words on his neck, and resisted the urge to shudder. The hands that wiped at his reddened fingers were painfully gentle for a demon slayer capable of such strength.
“Sorry,” he said, almost expecting his voice to betray him.
Giyuu shook his head, taking the cup of tea out of Tanjirou’s hands. He turned Tanjirou’s hands this way and that, examining them for any worrisome burns.
“Don’t worry about these hands,” Tanjirou said, uncharacteristically self conscious of the rough skin. “Takes more than a little hot water to get to them.”
Giyuu frowned, as if unhappy with the idea of Tanjirou hurt. Satisfied with his inspection, he stilled, leaving his hand wrapped around Tanjirou’s wrist, baring his palm upward. “They’re beautiful hands.”
Tanjirou flushed. He leaned further into Giyuu’s solid form behind him, taking the chance to divert.
“I didn’t know you had cats.”
Giyuu didn’t move away. “Mm, they’re strays. They stroll in like they own the place,” he replied. Tanjirou could feel Giyuu’s voice vibrating against his back as he spoke. His lips rested at the nape of his neck, a phantom kiss.
“They must like you.”
“Muichiro fed them once, and they just kept coming back.”
“No, cats are picky about who they trust,” Tanjirou insisted. Giyuu paused.
“They’re smart creatures. They’ll sense demons from a mile away.”
Tanjirou smiled, albeit out of Giyuu’s view. The water pillar’s resistance to admitting his attachment to the two cats was rather endearing.
“Surely that’s not the reason you keep them around?”
Giyuu only hummed in response.
Softie, Tanjirou mused, content to stall and be embraced a little longer. The combination of his own scent and Giyuu’s, mingled with notes of jasmine tea, felt right. Something fell into place.
Ah, so that was it.
“The tea is getting cold,” Giyuu finally said, after a long pause, though he made no move to step away. Tanjirou decided he had been self-indulgent for long enough, and moved to set the cup of tea down, immediately mourning the loss of Giyuu’s warmth around him.
Perhaps Giyuu missed the contact too, for they sat shoulder to shoulder when they finally settled down on the porch, tea in hand, both boys drowsy in the late afternoon sun. Giyuu clucked his tongue, and the calico appeared from seemingly nowhere, trotting over to settle onto his lap.
Tanjirou’s head, heavy with the promise of sleep, dropped onto Giyuu’s shoulder.
“Do they have names?” he mumbled.
“Hmm?”
“The cats. You must have named them.”
“No good in getting attached.”
“Don’t lie.”
“…”
Tanjirou barely heard the answer, his mind already fading to a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
“Kouki,” Giyuu said, fondly scratching the calico’s chin as it closed its eyes in pleasure. “And Yoko.”
Tanjirou smiled. He was already gone, lulled to sleep by the newfound smell of home, by the time Giyuu landed a kiss on the top of his head. There were a thousand unspoken words in the gesture.
Thank you.
——
Tanjirou woke some time later, neck protesting at the awkward position he'd been sleeping in. The wooden slats of the porch were dry and warm beneath him even as the sun dipped slowly under the trees, peeking through the leaves in a flickering goodbye. He became conscious of Giyuu’s sleeping presence behind him.
For once, the older boy was relaxed — his body was curled around Tanjirou’s, legs tangled in his, right arm slumped over the younger boy’s chest. Tanjirou turned to watch Giyuu’s face, studying the long, dark lashes brushing his slender, serene face. His hair was splayed haphazardly onto the floor, with long black locks of it falling over his eyes. His ponytail had loosened sometime during their sleep, and threads of hair had escaped halfway to gently frame his face. Tanjirou allowed himself a few precious moments to be a creep, too content to worry about any repercussions if Giyuu were to sense his gaze and wake up.
From this close, he was enveloped by Giyuu’s smell, from the mismatched haori draping over the two of them, from the strands of hair that spilled over the sun warmed porch. The scent of the ocean, of salt and sea breeze and calm, for once lacked the usual tinge of sorrow — those traces of guilt that threaded through an otherwise stoic demeanor.
It was rare to see him so peaceful, free of the past that haunted him, of his insecurities, of Kibutsuji Muzan, of the Twelve Moons… Giyuu deserved peace, Tanjirou thought. All the happiness the world could give him, and more. Tanjirou would ensure that he would have it.
He remembered thin mountain air, the cool shade of the forest, a girl’s laughter echoing in a clearing, a boy with peach hair and bittersweet lavender eyes.
Sabito, if you could see him now.
Tanjirou noted another source of warmth at his hip, and reached down to find soft black fur. His hand froze as Yoko flicked an eye open, as if irked by his movement, but the cat simply tucked a graceful paw over her face and returned to her nap. A resounding purr began to rumble from her soft, curled up shape, rising and falling with each breath she took. Tanjirou’s heart squeezed a bit at the adorableness of it all.
He could not help but smile as he let his eyelids droop, snuggling further into Giyuu’s comforting shape. Every part of him felt protected, secure — the weight of Giyuu’s arm over his chest, the steady breaths that skimmed his neck, the thrumming vibrations that reminded him of the sun warmed cat at his side.
They would survive, if only for countless more quiet evenings just like this.