Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Tanjirou probably wouldn’t have noticed it on his own. A combination of isolation from the outside world, his tendency to be overindulgent of others desires, and a tender affection in his heart for one particular blonde, kept him from realizing that perhaps the way they acted wasn’t exactly normal for most people. 

Now that Muzan is gone they’ve got a lot more free time on their hands. There are still demons to fight, of course, but there are few incidents where three Hashiras are necessary, and the lower ranks have been able to handle most of them on their own. Now one of them will be summoned every few weeks and the three of them are otherwise left to their own devices. This week Zenitsu had whined and begged to take a trip into the city, and although neither Tanjirou or Insouke were as fond of bustling metropolitan life as Zenitsu seemed to be, they’d agreed, if only to see that radiant smile that stretched across his pink face. Which is how they’d ended up at a little jewelry shop, almost hidden along a busy night market. 

Zenitsu and Insouke are standing in front of a display of crystals, the blonde tucked neatly into his side, a hand wrapped around one of his muscular arms as he points out the different types to the taller boy. Tanjirou smiles at the sight of them before turning back to a rack of necklaces, looking for one that Nezuko might like. She had opted to stay with Kanao for the weekend at the butterfly estate, letting the boys have their vacation. He’s eyeing a nice gold locket when a small, pointed cough draws his attention. A woman is standing there, maybe just a bit older than they are and dressed elegantly. She’s smiling at him but he can tell it’s fake, not only by her slightly sour scent but by the slight furrow between her brows. 

“Good evening,” he says pleasantly. Her eyes flicker over his shoulder to where Zenitsu and Inosuke are standing and then back to him. 

“Those are your friends over there?” Her voice is smooth, carefully flat. Tanjirou evens his breathing and keeps his face from showing the annoyance that’s creeping up. He nods and gives her a small, polite smile. He’s not sure what her issue is. Zenitsu has been subdued all night, happily chattering and tear-free, and Inosuke has also been on his best behavior, even keeping on the pretty silk shirt that Zenitsu had pestered him to wear. “Handsome boys. The blonde one is rather…touchy.” Oh. 

“Is that a problem?” Tanjirou keeps his eyes focused on the necklaces, though they’re starting to blur into a golden haze. 

“Oh, I have no issue with it,” she says quickly, though the disgust laced in her scent betrays her, “But you should be careful around here. Others won’t be so understanding.” Tanjirou grits his teeth, his body tensing. He wants to do something , throw a glass display case or scream or maybe cry, but a heavy hand thumps onto his shoulder and pulls him from his thoughts. 

“Nezuko would like this one,” Insouke points to the heart shaped locket he’d been considering earlier. He’s acting bored and nonchalant, but Tanjirou can tell he’s irritated. Had he heard what the woman said? He panics suddenly, thinking about her warning and whipping his head around to find Zenitsu. The blonde is talking to a shop clerk, pointing at something in a case he can’t see, safe and sound. The woman’s nose wrinkles at Insouke’s appearance, but she looks abashed and darts away after muttering a good evening under her breath. “You alright?” Inosuke asks after she’s out of earshot. “Your aura got all jittery and sharp.” 

“She said Zenitsu is too handsy, and we should watch out,” Tanjirou explains. Just repeating it makes his blood boil again. Inosuke snorts. 

“He can do whatever he wants. I know how to fight.” Tanjirou laughs and he feels a bit lighter, though worry still nags at the back of his mind. He pushes it away for now and goes over to ask for the locket, grinning at Zenitsu who fawns over how cute it will look on Nezuko. 

As they walk through the busy streets on their way back to the inn, Tanjirou can’t help but notice how much Zenitsu is touching them. He’ll loop his arm with Insouke’s and rest his head on his shoulder to follow his gaze to something the raven-haired boy is pointing at, or he’ll follow close to Tanjirou through a denser section of the crowd and link their pinkies together so he doesn’t get lost.

 He also can’t help but notice, now, the eyes that follow the blonde’s movements and wandering hands, eyes that don’t watch with fondness or adoration, but with suspicion, anger, and disgust. He can tell that Inosuke is starting to notice too; he’s beginning to grunt angrily under his breath and snarl at passers-by whose gazes wander over to Zenitsu for even a moment. Tanjirou sends him a quick warning glance over Zenitsu’s head when he almost throws a man into the gutter after he accidentally stumbles in front of the blonde. If they keep this up, Zenitsu is going to notice and worry, and this is the last thing Tanjirou wants him to have to think about. 

“Oh wait, wait, can we go back a bit? I saw a shop that had really nice yukatas!” Zenitsu is tugging on his sleeve, his head tilted sweetly as he tries to sway them to do what he wants. Normally, Tanjirou would be more than happy to turn back, would carry Zenitsu there if he asked, but it feels like the whole city’s eyes are on them now, and all he wants is to tuck Zenitsu away where no one else can look. 

“We can come back tomorrow, okay sweetheart?” Tanjirou whispers in his ear, trailing a hand down his spine to press steadily against the small of his back. Zenitsu flushes red all the way down past his collarbones, pink skin disappearing under his shirt. He nods and goes quiet, his head downcast as he walks. Tanjirou watches him from the corner of his eye, afraid he’ll see tears dripping down his cheeks, but instead sees Zenitsu trying and failing to hide a giddy little grin. His heart thuds painfully in his chest and he hopes the noise of the city is loud enough that Zenitsu can’t hear it. Inosuke walks close to Zenitsu’s other side and loops an arm around his shoulders, tugging playfully at the strands of blonde hair that sweep against his neck. Zenitsu doesn’t even swat him away, just hums a happy, familiar tune under his breath and walks between them, swinging his wrapped box from the jewelry shop in front of his knees. 

*

“Hey, what’d you buy from that shop?” 

Zenitsu blinks sleepily, looking over at Inosuke from where he’s been drowsing against Tanjirou’s knee while the other boy brushes through his hair, still damp from his bath. Inosuke pokes at the package, a fancy red velvet box just a little bigger than the size of his fist, sprawled out on the floor in front of the two large beds. This inn is modern and the beds are western style, raised up on wooden platforms. Insouke doesn’t like them, says they remind him of the hospital ward, and has been sleeping on the floor the past two nights, leaving Zenitsu in one bed and Tanjirou in the other. 

“Oh, don’t open it! Hang on let me put it on and I’ll show you,” Zenitsu chides, crawling over Inosuke to grab the box from his prying hands. He takes it and scurries off to the bathroom, secretive, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Why don’t you sleep in one of the beds with us tonight, Inosuke? It can’t be very comfortable on the floor with no futon,” Tanjirou suggests. Inosuke wants to laugh, he used to sleep on root covered forest floors and in damp caves, but he thinks of lying next to Zenitsu in bed and turns a bit pink. 

“Maybe,” he grunts, ignoring Tanjirou’s grin. Zenitsu walks out of the bathroom with both his hands hidden behind him, a sneaky smile pulling at his lips. The backward stretch of his arms pulls at his thin white robe, exposing his pale chest and one pink nipple. Tanjirou stares, only feeling a little bit guilty. 

“Tada!!” He flings his right hand forward to show off a dainty golden bracelet that dangles with three glittering stones. 

“It’s very pretty, Zenitsu,” Tanjirou praises.

“It’s special, though, look,” he comes closer, kneeling on the floor beside Inosuke and holding his arm up so they can see each stone, “These are birthstones. There’s a different one for every month someone is born. This red one is a ruby, that’s July for Tanjirou. And the clear one is quartz for Inosuke in April. Turquoise is for December, so that one’s Nezuko’s.” He twists his wrist so that the bracelet spins around it once, twice, then pulls it against his chest, smiling bright. “Now I’ll have all of you with me even when we’re apart.” Tanjirou is frozen, his blood rushing in his ears. Inosuke looks stunned too, staring at Zenitsu with eyes so wide they would be comical in any other situation. 

“Zenitsu!” Inosuke shouts suddenly. He’d ditched the habit of pretending to get their names wrong long ago. “I’m sleeping in your bed tonight!” 

“Oh, okay. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor for tonight…” 

“No, with you! In the bed!” Zenitsu is red again, and Tanjirou can see it going all the way down his chest now through the gap in his robe. He wants to pull at it more and see how much farther down it goes. 

“O-okay!” Zenitsu squeaks. He stands and climbs into the bed, scooting into the middle and keeping his eyes determinedly on the ceiling. Inosuke grins something feral and leaps on top of him, causing Zenitsu to shriek. Tanjirou reminds himself to apologize to their neighbours when they leave in the morning. He’s about to slip into his own bed when Zenitsu’s head peeks out of the blankets, Inosuke’s messy hair visible behind him. “Tanjirou, the bed is big you know. Um, you could sleep here too, if you want,” he says shyly. 

“I’d like that,” Tanjirou agrees, glad to see Zenitsu’s face clear of anxiety and shine with happiness instead. He slides under the blankets in the space in front of the blonde and waits. Sure enough, Zenitsu scoots closer and wraps his arms around Tanjirou’s middle, sliding his forehead into the space between his shoulder and neck. He brings his own arms up and brushes Zenitsu’s hair away from his cheek, laying a light kiss on the heated skin. Insouke, holding Zenitsu from behind with his arms trapped between the blonde and Tanjirou, presses another kiss on Zenitsu’s bare neck, almost challengingly. Tanjirou just smiles and lets his eyes drift shut as he falls into one of the best slumbers he’s had in many years.

Chapter Text

“Lay down.” 

Zenitsu is frowning at him, trying to look stern and authoritative with a hand on his hip and his socked foot tapping impatiently, but Inosuke thinks he just looks kind of dumb and cute. He should know you can’t be bossy if you’re pouting. 

“What for? I’m busy,” he grunts, lifting another pot full of sand up and over his head. Someone’s got to stand their ground against the Lightning Hashira every once and a while. He’s heard the gossip spreading around the Corps, that Zenitsu has Inosuke and Tanjirou both wrapped around his little finger, they’ll do anything the runt asks. It’s not untrue, especially with stupid Tanjirou bending over backwards if Zenitsu so much as furrows his brows, but Insouke can’t let his reputation be damaged so easily. He is more stubborn than Zenitsu is cute, he’s sure of this. 

“I’m going to clean your ears, you’ve been tugging at them all day,” Zenitsu stomps his foot impatiently. The breeze tousles his blonde hair around his face, which is devolving quickly into a puppy-eyed pout the longer Inosuke refuses him. It’s a bit frizzy from the summer heat, making it curl slightly in a puff around his head. It’s really cute. Inosuke is starting to get pissed off. 

“I don’t need you to clean me, just fuck off,” he snaps. When they were younger this might have sent Zenitsu into a depressed mood for days, surely convincing himself that Inosuke’s short temper with him meant the other boy hated him and wanted him gone. Now he knows that the boarish boy is just being stubborn and doesn’t really mean it. Zenitsu starts to smile a bit, reminded of that angry kid who used to run around screaming at the top of his lungs and picking a fight with anything that breathed. 

“But I want to,” Zenitsu whines, “Please?” Inosuke knows he shouldn’t, but he risks a glance at the shorter boy and sees him staring at him with a sweet, hopeful smile. Fuck. 

“Whatever, be quick about it.” Inosuke tosses the heavy pot down into the grass and stomps onto the engawa, flinging himself on the floor like a child throwing a fit. Zenitsu just follows at a slower pace, an indulgent smile on his lips. He lifts Inosuke’s head gently and places it in his lap so that he’s facing the garden, his ear facing the ceiling for Zenitsu to clean. He starts to pick inside, careful and meticulous, the fingers of his free hand stroking through Inosuke’s hair at the nape of his neck. 

Zenitsu tends to wear as little clothing as possible in the summer when they’re not away on missions, and today is no different. He’s in a pair of linen shorts and a loose silk top that billows away from him in the breeze, tickling Inosuke’s sweaty, bare back. Inosuke likes to see him padding around in his little shorts and socked feet, his muffled footsteps skittering to and fro about as he takes care of the daily chores. 

When they’d all become Hashiras they’d been offered each an estate of their own, but had agreed to stay in one all together, not fond of the idea of being separated after everything was over. Zenitsu had immediately taken a shine to doing the housework, which Inosuke found amusing after he’d spent so many years complaining about even the simplest task. He’d asked him about it once, when Zenitsu was toiling over dinner one night, fretting over a large pot simmering on the stove. You and Tanjirou took care of me for so many years, I want to take care of you both now. It makes me happy, Zenitsu had answered simply. Though that care had never been so one-sided as Zenitsu seemed to be convinced it was, he couldn’t help but feel a bit fuzzy when he heard it.

He traces idle shapes along the skin of Zenitsu’s bare thigh folded under him, avoiding the pink scars that run up his skin like lightning bolts. “You can touch them, you know,” Zenitsu says, as if reading his thoughts, or more likely noticing the shift in Inosuke’s sound, “They don’t hurt anymore.” Inosuke flattens his palm over one large swath of them, clustered near his knee, and has to close his eyes at the image of Zenitsu’s bloodied, broken body lying on the ground, his clothing singed from lightning burns. When Zenitsu lifts the pick from his ear he turns his head to kiss his skin. 

“I wish you were never hurt,” Inosuke says. Zenitsu strokes his cheek tenderly. 

“It was worth it to save you.” He turns Inosuke’s head until he’s laying in the opposite direction, his face pressed against his silk shirt and stomach. Zenitsu starts to clean his other ear, but Inosuke reaches up and grips his wrist. 

“Zenitsu,” he croaks, and Zenitsu sets the ear pick down and folds himself forward over Inosuke, brushing his fingers through the hair at the back of his head. Embarrassingly, he starts to cry. 

“It’s okay, I’m alright,” Zenitsu hums soothingly, rubbing Inosuke’s back when it starts to shake with muffled sobs. Why, stupid, stupid Zenitsu, Inosuke thinks, saying he’s weak, thinking he didn’t help us, when he was in pain. He suffered all alone. Inosuke loves him, but he’s still scared. He feels like a little boy in his adult body, tripping through the forest looking for his mama, wanting to hide in her soft fur. Zenitsu is soft too. Someday, Inosuke will tell him, and kiss all his scars. 

Inosuke isn’t sure how long they sit there, Zenitsu whispering to him and rocking him in his lap, until Tanjirou and Nezuko arrive back from a trip to Kyoujurou’s and find them there. He doesn’t raise his head, but he feels Zenitsu sit up and turn to them, feels their startled auras reaching out toward him in concern. 

“Welcome home,” Zenitsu says. Inosuke is sure he must be smiling, that beautiful boy, with a face like the sun. Two pairs of feet make their way over, and then Nezuko’s draping herself over Inosuke’s back and patting his face, and Tanjirou is leaning against Zenitsu’s side, holding him in one arm and Inosuke in the other. 

“We’re home,” he says, warm and happy.

Chapter Text

Nezuko’s face is blank, but her eyes are sharp and focused, shifting every few seconds from Inosuke to Tanjirou and back again so they can both feel the weight of her gaze. She’s no longer a demon, but she still knows how to be as scary as one. 

“So,” she says finally, after a few tense minutes of silence, “who’s going to tell me what’s going on?” 

“Nothing is going on,” Insouke grumbles, stubbornly sitting with his body facing the kitchen, away from the rest of them. He rests his chin in his palm, trying to adopt a relaxed position, but his shoulders are tense. 

“Hm. Try again.” Her expression, neutral before, is starting to morph into a scowl. Sweat beads at Tanjirou’s temples. 

“Really, Nezuko. We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tanjirou falters. It’s not a complete lie. Ever since they’d come back to find Insouke crying in Zenitsu’s lap, the energy around the house has been a bit…odd. Nothing has changed outwardly, the four of them still bustling about the house keeping busy with everyday tasks: training Mizunoto, fixing up the more worn parts of the old place that were starting to strain under the stress of the busy household, entertaining guests. Just two days earlier Tengen had come for a visit with his wives and Zenitsu had been in a frenzy, cleaning and cooking all day until there had been a veritable feast prepared in the formal dining room, Zenitsu looking a bit tired, but proud, at the head of the table. 

What a good little housewife you’ve become, Tengen had praised, good-natured and teasing. Normally, Zenitsu would have shouted at him, maybe flung a few things, but that night he had only frowned, sitting patiently through Tengen’s head patting until Suma had asked about a recipe and he’d gone back to his usual self. Now that Tanjirou thought about it, Zenitsu had been a lot quieter lately, keeping to himself during the day and retiring to bed early at night. He can’t remember the last time Zenitsu had curled up with him for a cuddle or even just absentmindedly touched him. Beside him, Inosuke seems to be realizing this change too as he sits up straighter, looking torn between annoyance and concern.  

“Clearly, you two did something. If you don’t know what then you’d better figure it out, because you’re making him sad. I don’t appreciate that,” Nezuko says cooly, folding her hands neatly atop her lap, the picture of collected grace. Tanjirou thinks that he sees her brown eyes flash pink for just a second. 

A thought crosses his mind then, and he frowns and looks up toward where Zenitsu’s bedroom is above them, facing west because he likes the glow of the setting sun in the evenings. “It’s pretty late for him to be sleeping in,” he muses, a crease of worry between his brows. Inosuke stands, knocking the kotatsu askew in his rush. 

“We’ll make him breakfast and bring it to him in bed, that will cheer him up!” 

They all work carefully in the kitchen, arranging a platter of all of Zenitsu’s favorites. Nezuko makes omurice, a semi-complicated dish that Zenitsu loves but rarely indulges in, and decorates it with cheese slices and tomatoes so that it looks like a blanket tucked around a sleeping bear. Tanjirou slathers a few pieces of bread with butter and various sweet jams. Inosuke shapes onigiri more meticulously than he’s ever done in his life, until he has three perfect triangles. 

The sun is high in the sky by the time they’re all tiptoeing up the stairs, hushing each other’s excited giggles. Tanjirou wonders how Zenitsu will react. If he’s still in bed, maybe he'll rise sleepily and blink at them until they come into focus, then gasp and fluster over how they’re spoiling him too much. He’ll wipe his tears away and smile sweetly and eat his breakfast tucked between all three of them, pink and smelling of blooming gardenias, and Tanjirou will kiss his sleep-warm cheek, still wrinkled with the imprint of his pillow. 

Nezuko shushes them one more time and moves to slide open the door to his bedroom, but to their surprise and dismay, the room is empty. Zenitsu’s futon is folded neatly in one corner and Chuntaro isn’t on the perch that Inosuke made for him out of a thick tree branch from the garden. Nezuko begins wandering around the room as if the blonde is hiding somewhere and Inosuke looks like he’s trying to read the energy of the house to see if he can sense him in some other room, but Tanjirou can see there’s a note lying on top of his folded blankets. He sets the tray of food down and reaches for it. 

Urgent mission to the southwest, you’re all still sleeping. I’ll be home soon.

-Zenitsu 

It’s scrawled quickly in neat, tight letters. He hands the note off to Inosuke, who has stalked over to try and peer at it over his shoulder, and moves toward the desk in the corner. Books are stacked next to it, dogeared and well worn. It’s where he writes letters to their friends and gives Inosuke lessons, where Tanjirou often finds him on nights that he or Nezuko are in charge of dinner, slumped over and drooling lightly on one of his novels. He imagines him there in the early hours of the morning, the sky still dark and speckled with stars, scribbling the note and then slipping out of the house quietly as a whisper. He imagines him walking down the forest path, guided by moonlight, all alone. Was he cold? Was he tired? Why hadn’t he woken one of them up, if only just to say goodbye? 

“Dumbass,” Inosuke hisses. He stomps out of the room, Zenitsu’s note fluttering to the floor behind him. The tray of food is still there. Nezuko picks it up and walks out behind him, smelling sorrowful like the end of a rainstorm. When he finally makes his own way downstairs he can see the tray sitting on a kitchen counter, untouched and cold. Nezuko couldn’t make herself throw it out. 

*

Inosuke doesn’t appear again for the whole afternoon. Tanjirou starts to worry, but then he can hear him moving around in the garden, a hint of his agitated scent being carried in by the breeze. He hears a thump, then another and another, until a headache inducing rhythm sets in. Thump thump thump thump. He steps out onto the engawa and sees Inosuke punching a tree hard enough to shake its leaves, over and over again with single minded focus. When a streak of red appears on the roughened bark he races over, stopping the next punch with a hand on Inosuke’s wrist. 

“You need to calm down,” Tanjirou tells him firmly. Inosuke doesn’t look at him, panting heavily with rage and exertion. Blood drips from his knuckles into the dirt. “I’m worried about him too, but hurting yourself won’t help.” 

“It’s not that,” he says through gritted teeth, “It’s just- he’s so-” Inosuke clenches his eyes shut and brings his unbloodied hand to rake anxiously through the hair on his forehead. Tanjirou waits, his heart in his throat. “I love him.” 

“Oh.” 

Tanjirou knows. He’s not blind, and even if he was, he could smell the heady affection that radiated off the boarish man whenever Zenitsu was near, the sickly sweet, tender scent of roses and sugar. He’s sure he smells the same way. 

“I love him too,” he admits. Inosuke turns and smiles at him with such gentleness that Tanjirou can feel tears sting at his eyes. 

“I know.” It feels like Tanjirou has finally been able to put down the heavy load he’s been carrying, all the worry and fear that had plagued him gone in an instant. It must be what Zenitsu has been carrying too, is still carrying, oblivious to the pair’s confessions, somewhere dangerous, all alone. 

“When Zenitsu comes home, we’ll tell him. We’ll figure it out. Until then, let me bandage your hand. You’ll make him worry if he sees that.” 

The night passes with no sign of the blonde’s return. Tanjirou can hear Inosuke tossing and turning all night, and Nezuko creeps into his room in the early hours of the morning, looking exhausted, to crawl under his covers and sleep fitfully, her hand held tight to the sleeve of his pajamas. In the morning they eat quietly, trying not to look at the empty spot where Zenitsu usually sits. They all spend the rest of the day listlessly trying to distract themselves. 

Just after the sun sets, Tanjirou hears something pecking at the door and rushes to open it, thinking it is Chuntaro. Instead he finds another Kusagi crow. “Message from Kocho!” It squawks, fluttering in the doorway, “Agatsuma injured, at Butterfly Estate! Condition unclear!” Tanjirou suddenly can’t hear over the ringing in his ears. Someone pulls at him, throws a haori over his shoulders. It’s Nezuko, her face pale and frantic. 

“Come on, we’ve got to go,” she says urgently, pulling him out the door. Inosuke is already bounding ahead of them, Tanjirou hadn’t even seen him go by. The Kocho estate is nearly half a day’s walk under normal circumstances, but the trio arrive after two hours, sweating and nearly hysterical. Kanao greets them, her expression grim, and leads them silently down a familiar corridor to the hospital wing. 

The beds are empty except for one in a back corner, where Shinobu is fussing over the small body tucked under its sheets. For a moment, Tanjirou hesitates, but Inosuke grips his hand and they go to meet the former Insect Hashira.

She smiles when she sees them, though it’s small and tired. “He’ll be out for a while, but I think I’ve got him in the clear. He was...well I suppose the word would be impaled,” she explains, standing so that Zenitsu is still mostly hidden behind her, probably for their sake. Inosuke makes a strangled sound and Nezuko grips Tanjirou’s arm hard enough for it to twinge. 

“Was he able to say what happened?” Tanjirou hears himself ask, voice wavering. Zenitsu is strong, probably stronger than either him or Insouke when it really came down to it, and demons were weaker after Muzan was gone. 

“He was ambushed. Apparently demons have been teaming up in Muzan’s absence in order to gain strength through sheer numbers. His sparrow said there were at least six, but there might have been more. He was able to finish them off before a couple of Hinoto’s found him.” She pauses, then finally steps aside so that they can reach Zenitsu’s bed. He looks worse than Tanjirou had feared, covered in splotchy red bandages anywhere Shinobu’s silk pajamas don’t cover. His face has been cleaned of blood hastily and patches of it linger, crimson and wet, around his hairline and the corners of his mouth. His eyelashes are still damp with tears against his bruised cheeks. “Try to be quiet, we don’t want him to wake before he’s had some rest.” Shinobu pats a hand lightly against Tanjirou’s shoulder and takes her leave. 

Inosuke is beyond enraged, Tanjirou can smell it coming off him in waves, but he sits himself silently in one of the chairs beside the bed and doesn’t move again. Nezuko seats herself gingerly at the foot of the bed, not even halfway on it, and rests a hand lightly on Zenitsu’s ankle, tears dripping soundlessly down her cheeks. Tanjirou goes to the other side and just barely makes it to the second chair before his knees give out and he falls heavily into it. Impaled. Zenitsu almost died. He almost died alone, surrounded by demons, and not knowing how much he loved him. 

Tanjirou watches Zenitsu’s chest move slowly up and down until he’s in a trance-like state, not asleep but not quite awake either. In his periphery he can see Inosuke’s hand on the bed a few inches from Zenitsu’s like he’d second guessed whether he should touch him and stopped halfway. At some point Nezuko gets up and mumbles something about Kanao, departing with a kiss to Tanjirou and Inosuke’s cheek and a gentle squeeze to Zenitsu’s ankle. And then it’s just the three of them again in the quiet room, filled only with the labored sound of the blonde’s breathing and the pink light of the rising sun. 

*

“I’m sorry.” 

Tanjirou jolts awake, sitting up from where his head was resting on the edge of the bed. Across from him Inosuke is asleep as well, his cheek pressed into the mattress and his long eyelashes brushing against Zenitsu’s fingertips. He turns to see Zenitsu looking at him with half-lidded eyes, their golden hue dulled by pain and exhaustion. When he speaks again it’s slow and effortful. “Didn’t mean to…worry you…”

Tanjirou shakes his head so hard it hurts, his fist clenching in the sheets beside Zenitsu’s stomach. He’s angry and sad and relived and tired, but most of all he’s in love with a stupid, reckless, infuriating man who just can’t seem to comprehend how wonderful he is in every way. He doesn’t know how to tell him this, anything he could say wouldn’t even begin to encompass all he feels for him. Zenitsu takes his silence as some kind of punishment and shivers, tears starting to seep from under his eyelids which have shut again. “I’m not strong enough, I’m sorry,” he sobs. Tanjirou can picture him, six years old and wandering by himself down a city street, crying with scuffed knees and a mess of black hair. How could anyone have looked at that boy and not just loved him? 

“Are you stupid?!” Insouke’s shout startles the both of them, echoing in the empty room. “You took out six demons by yourself. What more do you want? Should we resurrect Muzan and have you fight him one handed?” Tanjirou almost wants to laugh, but then Zenitsu is covering his face and crying into his hands, smelling embarrassed and regretful. Inosuke presses his face miserably into the sheets and tugs at his hair. “Aw Zen, I’m sorry, fuck. I’m not good at this,” he groans. 

“Zenitsu.” Tanjirou takes one hand away from his face and holds it in both of his, Insouke following suit with the other. Zenitsu shakes his head and tucks his chin into his chest, trying to hide his tear-soaked face. Tanjirou unfolds his fingers and lays a kiss into his damp palm. “We just want to be by your side. Not because you’re weak. Because we love you,” he says, lips moving against his skin. 

“Nnnn, y-you can’t,” Zenitsu whines, his face flushed. Tanjirou can’t tell if it’s from the exhaustion that seems to be setting in or because he’s flustered, but it’s probably both. 

“Who’s gonna stop us?” Inosuke challenges, a smile stretching across his face. He darts forward and presses a kiss against Zenitsu’s lips. Zenitsu stares when he pulls away, open mouthed and dazed. Tanjirou wants to kiss him too, but they should really let him rest. Shinobu is going to put them both in the hospital ward too if she comes back and finds them trying to make out with a patient who just got his stomach stitched back together. He settles for pressing his lips to Zenitsu’s wrist, feeling his heartbeat flutter under the skin, fast and strong. They can discuss everything later when Zenitsu is safe and sound at home again. 

Shinobu finds the three of them later that afternoon all asleep and squeezed into the bed, somehow contorted enough to fit the other two large, fully grown men without disturbing Zenitsu. She sighs and turns around, deciding she’ll have Aoi redress his wounds. 

Chapter Text

Zenitsu doesn’t wake up again for over a week. After two days of Tanjirou and Inosuke wasting away at his bedside, hardly leaving to eat and sleeping in hunched positions that left them with sore backs, Shinobu and Nezuko gang up and force them to go back home. “No point sitting here doing nothing, why don’t you two make yourselves useful and get the house cleaned up and ready for when Zenitsu comes back. I’ll send for you when he wakes up,” Nezuko chides, shooing them out of the hospital ward. There are two other Mizunoto there now, with minor injuries from a demon to the south, who snicker quietly as they pass by. Inosuke wants to shout How dare you laugh at the Hashira who defeated Muzan?! but bites his tongue for the sake of the slumbering blonde at the end of the room. He eyes them closely, they’ll eventually come to them for training, and then he can have his revenge. 

The house feels strange and uninviting in Zenitsu and Nezuko’s absence. Inosuke stubbornly refuses to do any cleaning until Tanjirou makes it into a competition, and then the whole place is spotless within a few hours. The next day they do work outside, patching a few holes in the roof and fixing creaky floorboards on the engawa. The day after is for shopping. They stock the kitchen up with food that will last for weeks so that Zenitsu doesn’t have to worry about going to the market. They also take it upon themselves to buy him other treats; a couple of patterned yukatas, a nice green silk kimono, some books, more dango than he could eat, and a golden ankle bracelet that Tanjirou buys with a beet-red face, stuttering that he thinks it will look nice against Zenitsu’s skin when Inosuke raises an eyebrow at him. By the fourth day they’re out of things to do and sit in the front room, bored and sweaty from the summer heat. 

“Where’s he going to sleep?” Inosuke asks, interrupting their quiet contemplation for the first time in hours. 

“I guess if he can’t go up the stairs then he’ll stay in the guest room for a while,” Tanjirou muses. 

“No, I mean like...Is he gonna sleep with you or with me? I guess we can switch every other night.” 

Tanjirou flushes. His eyes dart over to Insouke, sprawled on the tatami near the door opened to the garden, shirtless as usual. He looks completely unphased, picking absentmindedly at the scabs on his knuckles from his fight with the tree earlier that week. “He’s not a toy!” Tanjirou’s voice cracks. 

Inosuke looks at him and grins, shrugging. “Fine, then he’ll sleep with me.” Tanjirou frowns. He wants to sleep with Zenitsu too, in the most innocent sense, holding him close and feeling his breath huff against his neck, but he doesn’t want him to be bothered with being passed around every night, and what if he wants to be in his own room? 

“Why don’t we all just sleep together,” Tanjirou suggests, gazing at the floor, “I mean, it’s up to Zenitsu either way, but I wouldn’t mind it.” 

“Okay,” Inosuke agrees easily. “Are we going to fuck him at the same time too?”

“INOSUKE!” 

*

Chuntaro arrives a few days later while they’re in the middle of training some Mizunotos, fluttering down and landing on Inosuke’s head like he usually does to Zenitsu. He chirps happily at Tanjirou, who nearly knocks over the young boy he’s showing a water-breathing stance to in his excitement.

“What’s he saying?” Inosuke grumbles, irritated at being out of the loop. 

“Zenitsu’s awake, he’s asking for us!”

Inosuke chucks his wooden training sword at the Mizunoto across from him, who squawks indignantly when he smacks him in the head. “We’re not done training!” he shouts at Inosuke’s retreating back. 

“Practice blocking,” Inosuke calls over his shoulder. He grabs Tanjirou’s shirt collar and yanks him toward the road, knowing that otherwise the red-head would make them finish training out of his unshakeable sense of duty. Inosuke could give a rats ass about duty; their boy is waiting for them. 

They don’t reach the Butterfly Estate quite as quickly as they had that first night, but they definitely make a short trip of it, arriving red faced and woozy from the heat and their haste. Nezuko scolds them and sends them to wash up before they come to see Zenitsu and they begrudgingly trudge off to the baths to scrub their sweaty skin. Once they’re both clean and dry, Inosuke eyes Tanjirou with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and then sets off racing through the estate. Tanjirou follows after him, the pair matching each other’s speed easily and colliding in the small doorway to the hospital ward as they both try to get through at the same time. 

“A couple of geniuses you’ve got there, Zen,” A deep voice remarks teasingly. Inosuke and Tanjirou look up in shock to see Tengen lounging comfortably on Zenitsu’s bed, twirling a strand of the blonde’s hair around the finger of his good hand.

“How the fuck did you get here before us?” Inosuke growls, less adept at hiding his emotions. Zenitsu is blushing and trying to scoot away from Tengen, looking like he wants to climb straight out of bed and make his way over to them, but the retired Hashira stops him with an arm thrown around his shoulders. Tanjirou is secretly grateful, he would hate for Zenitsu to exacerbate his injuries by trying to move too much. 

“Calm down, boar-brat. I just so happened to be passing by when I heard that my favorite little Tsuguko had awoken after quite the battle!” Zenitsu’s face scrunches up, part annoyance and part elation. As much as the pair bicker, they both hold genuine respect and affection for each other. Though Tanjirou wishes Tengen would vacate the room at this particular moment, he’s thankful for the man’s presence in Zenitsu’s life. The blonde needs more people around him who will sing his praises. “In fact,” Tengen adds, a wry grin spreading across his face, “I hear that my darling Zenitsu is flamboyantly following in my footsteps in more ways than one!” 

“I think I heard Shinobu calling for you!” Zenitsu all but shrieks, shoving Tengen off the bed, his face burning. Tengen pats his head good-naturedly and heads for the door. As he passes Tanjirou and Inosuke he pauses, stepping sideways so he’s blocking their path. Inosuke and Tanjirou are not small by any measure, Tanjirou standing at six feet and Inosuke managing to overtake him by an inch, but Tengen still towers over both of them. He smiles pleasantly, but there is a dangerous glint in his good eye, a brigther red than Tanjirou’s own. 

“Treat him well.” Tanjirou suppresses a shiver. Beside him, Inosuke looks like he’s about to shout at the man again, but then something passes over his face and he just nods. Tengen hums, pleased, and pats them both patronizingly on the head, though Inosuke mostly just gets whacked with his stump, before walking away. 

“I don’t know why Zenitsu likes that guy,” Inosuke grumbles under his breath as they head for his bed. He hadn’t been very fond of the white-haired man ever since their mission in the red-light district. Tanjirou just bites his lip to hold in a laugh. 

Zenitsu is still pink-cheeked when they get to him, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. Most of his bandages are gone, though his skin is still mottled with bruises in various stages of healing, purple and green and yellow. “Hi,” he says when they sit down in the spaces beside his legs, smiling shyly under his fringe. 

“We missed you,” Tanjirou says, reaching out to touch Zenitsu’s fingers. The other man grabs his hand and holds it in his lap. 

“Yeah, and Tanjirou’s cooking tastes like shit. He’s only good at baking,” Inosuke says. Zenitsu laughs at that and uses his other hand to grab Inosuke’s, his thumb tracing along the raised pink skin where he’d picked the scabs away. It’s quiet for a bit, none of them knowing what to say, or really, where to start. 

“Um, that night...when I got here,” Zenitsu begins, “You said…um…well did- did you mean that?” He trails off, embarrassed. 

“Said what?” Tanjirou presses, though they all know. He wants to hear Zenitsu say it. 

“Mmn, y-you know...” He breathes a little raspily, fidgeting against his pillows. 

“We love you. Why wouldn’t we mean that?” Inosuke isn’t feeling so patient, apparently. He’s frowning, the hand not held by Zenitsu clenched against his knee. Tanjirou can see veins throbbing under the thin skin. Zenitsu flushes darker and shrugs, starting to pull back, but neither man lets go of his hands. “Why are you always trying to convince yourself that people don’t love you?” His tone is harsh, though he probably doesn’t mean for it to be. Years of frustration are seeping into his voice. 

“I-I don’t,” Zenitsu stutters, looking up with wide eyes that reflect their silhouettes in large pools of unshed tears. They’re all orphans, Tanjirou thinks. But Inosuke had his boar family, who loved and took care of him, even without words to speak kindly, and a mother whose love radiated into him long after she was gone. And Tanjirou had his family for 13 years, not very long, but enough to be raised on kindness and tenderness and warmth. Zenitsu didn’t have that; he grew up on loneliness and criticism and cruelty. He had Jigoro for a while, but even that was taken from him. 

“Zenitsu, please believe me when I say you are truly beloved. Beyond what I thought I could ever feel for another person,” Tanjirou whispers, leaning in until his forehead is pressed to Zenitsu’s own, his hand cupping his hot, wet cheek. Zenitsu whines, crying in earnest now. 

“For fuck’s sake; look I don’t know how to say it nicely, but I love you a whole fucking lot too, okay?!” Inosuke growls. Tanjirou turns to grin at him, amused to see that his face is red and expression abashed. He’s pouting . Zenitsu is laughing then, and crying too, until he’s hiccuping cutely. Tanjirou presses a hand against his stomach, worried that his stitches will rip. 

“Come here,” He says, reaching his arms wide for Inosuke and Tanjirou to crawl into. They climb carefully into the bed, laying more against his pillows than the man himself for fear of hurting him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He hugs them closer until their heads are tucked on each of his shoulders. Tanjirou presses his nose against the skin at the base of his hairline. He smells slightly medicinal, but still like gardenias and peaches. “I love you too, both of you. So, so much.” They lay like that until Shinobu comes to check on Zenitsu and throws Inosuke and Tanjirou out of the room, scolding them for their lack of restraint. 

Everyone’s a bit grumpy after Shinobu informs them he’ll need to stay longer for monitoring. Still, Zenitsu thinks to himself, peeking over his playing cards as he watches Inosuke and Aoi argue over whether his last play was allowed, Tanjirou and Kanao both looking like they might jump in at any moment, it will be well worth the wait.

Chapter Text

When he was sixteen, Zenitsu would have given anything to lay in bed all day, doted on by pretty girls. Only five years had passed since then, but his life couldn’t have been any more different. Never in his life did he imagine he’d be longing to spend a long afternoon in the kitchen making dinner for two handsome men and a beautiful former demon girl, or wistfully recalling mornings spent collecting dirty socks and sweat stained clothes to scrub in the washroom. Two weeks of bedrest must be driving him insane, he thinks, as he finds his heart racing with excitement at the thought of cleaning up Inosuke’s messy room. 

“Shinobu, I’m feeling a lot better,” Zenitsu whines as the petite woman presses a cold stethoscope to the bare skin of his back, “Really, I’ll be fine at home.” 

“Well, you do look much better,” Shinobu admits, motioning for him to lay back down. She pokes at the skin of his stomach where she removed his stitches a few days before. The skin is healing nicely, though it will leave a scar. Nothing new for the Lightning Hashira; they all bear their own marks, one way or another. 

“So I can go?” She tuts and looks out the window at the storm clouds gathering on the horizon, dimming the morning sun. 

“With that storm coming you’ll be stuck here at least another two days, I’m afraid. You’ll be much slower in your condition and you’d definitely get stuck if you left now,” she says apologetically. Zenitsu’s much more well behaved nowadays, no longer throwing a fit over the simplest treatments, but his sulking is starting to wear on her nerves, and the two idiots who come to visit every other day are no help. 

“Oh, alright,” Zenitsu says quietly, blinking away tears. Shinobu sighs and closes the window that had been opened to let in the breeze, which is quickly picking up with the approaching storm. Zenitsu can hear electricity buzzing in the air. Shinobu is right, it would be unwise to travel in this weather even if he were healthy. With a final pat to his hand she leaves him staring forlornly out the window, idly twisting the golden bracelet on his wrist. 

Kanao comes in some time later, when the clouds are swirling overhead. She’s been coming to see him more often now that Nezuko has gone home as well, the two of them keeping each other company. She sits on the bed with her legs facing Zenitsu, knocking one knee against his playfully. He sticks his tongue out at her and a genuine smile lights up her pretty face. 

“You’re causing the storm with that foul mood of yours,” she teases. 

“I’m in a foul mood because of that storm,” Zenitsu grumbles, glaring at the sky as if he can clear it with sheer willpower alone. 

“I’m sorry you find my company lacking.” She grins to show she’s only poking fun, but Zenitsu looks genuinely distraught. 

“It’s not that, honestly. I just-” he blushes, his fingers pressing against the stones on his bracelet, “I just miss them.” Kanao smiles. She can’t believe how stupid they all were, taking five years to confess when she’d caught on right away back when they were still kids. 

She doesn’t remember seeing Zenitsu at the Final Selection, but she can clearly recall the day he’d first come to the Butterfly Estate, covered in his own blood and half-shrunken from spider poison, Inosuke carried in behind him in similarly bad shape. She hadn’t been particularly interested, leaving them to the care of Aoi and the girls, but that night she’d heard whispering from the ward and crept over to see what was going on. 

The scrawny blonde had clambered out of his own bed and was hanging off the side of the other boy’s, his short arms struggling to reach for something. His hand, she realized, after he finally caught it and pulled it toward himself. The strange boy had a boar mask on so she couldn’t see his face, but his breathing was slow and even, indicating he was asleep. That didn’t seem to deter the blonde, who was whispering something to him. She strained to hear his quiet voice. “You did a good job, Inosuke. Don’t sound so sad all the time, okay? You tried your best and you were brave.” That boar masked boy had been solemn and melancholy, she remembered Aoi commenting. It was a nice sentiment, she thought as she walked back to her room. Pointless, since the boy was sleeping, but nice nonetheless. 

Tanjirou came the next day, and again she heard murmuring from the ward that night, curiosity getting the best of her as she snuck to the door that was left ajar. “Can I sleep with you?” the blonde, Zenitsu, she remembered, was asking quietly, shy and nervous. Tanjirou had smiled and let him climb under the covers, but Kanao had felt a little worried for some reason. Zenitsu seemed to like his companions more than the average traveling partners did, and she felt a bit protective of him. He may have been whiny and quick to cry, but he was kind, she could tell, and had a tender heart. The kind of heart that shouldn’t be treated lightly. She wasn’t keen on seeing someone like that get hurt for having those kinds of feelings. 

She’d kept a closer eye on all of them after that. Tanjirou was sweet and gentle with everyone and had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen, but he looked at Zenitsu with something else. There was an extra sparkle in his eyes when they were on the blonde. Inosuke, after he’d recovered his voice, was brash and loud and kind of a bully, always goading Zenitsu to spar with him. Kanao thought she might have to intervene, but when the boar boy thought no one was around he was gentle too, plucking twigs out of Zenitsu’s hair and picking fights with slayers who would giggle behind Zenitsu’s back when he cried, throwing punches without restraint until someone came to drag him off. Good, she’d thought, they feel the same. No need to worry. If only she’d known she was in for five long years of nearly intolerable tension and miscommunication. 

“Thank god that’s over,” she mumbles out loud to herself. 

“Huh?” 

“You know, the three of you weren’t exactly subtle. I think everyone’s been waiting years for all of you to get your heads out of your asses.” 

Zenitsu blushes and a nervous giggle bubbles up from his throat. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” He fans a hand toward his face. 

“It was truly awful. Nezuko was probably about a month away from killing one of you,” she says seriously. No one in the corps can hold a poker face like Kanao. Instead of whining like she expects, Zenitsu just smiles, a sad glimmer in his eyes. 

“Doesn’t feel like it’s over yet,” he muses, resting his elbow on the windowsill so he can balance his chin in his palm, “but it will soon.” 

Sooner than you think. Kanao is already hatching a plan as she heads to her room to write a note for her crow to deliver. 

*

It starts to rain halfway through the afternoon, fat droplets soaking quickly into the ground. The heat makes it seem like steam is rising up out of the soil, almost tropical. Zenitsu runs a finger through the condensation collecting on the windowpane, drawing little lightning bolts. He wonders what they’re up to back home, if they’ve had lunch yet, if they remembered to bring the laundry in before the rain came. 

There’s a distant rumbling and he frowns, looking up to see if he’d missed a bolt of lightning earlier, but it goes on a minute too long and he realizes it’s not thunder. “Zenitsu,” Kanao’s voice calls from the hall, “Come here please. Bring your things.” Zenitsu frowns, confused, but gathers up the few items on his bedside table: his sword, his cleaned and dried haori, a few letters from the boys and a book they’d brought him from home to keep him occupied. He follows her through the estate toward the front doors, cautious and confused. Is she going to kick him out? 

“About time, brat.” Zenitsu bumps face first into a muscular chest and jumps back, shocked to find Sanemi there in the entryway, looking at him with his usual scowl. Though his tone is short and irritated, his sound has a quiet gentleness to it that has Zenitsu relaxing. Sanemi’s bark tends to be worse than his bite. He peers over Sanemi’s shoulder into the courtyard and gasps when he sees a carriage there. It’s nothing fancy, more like a wooden box on wheels hitched to a pair of horses, hardly large enough to carry three people and a driver, but it’s shielded from the rain and quicker than trudging through mud. Genya, patting the horses and apparently unbothered by the rain that is soaking him, gives him a shy wave. 

“Y-You did this for me?” Zenitsu squeaks, glancing between the three of them so quickly that he makes himself a bit dizzy. Tears spring from his eyes and he throws his arms around the person closest to him, thankfully Kanao, dropping half of his things in the process. “I can never repay your kindness to me! You’re like three angels on earth!” 

“Would you just get in the carriage already, Cinderella? You’re wasting my valuable time,” Sanemi snaps, reaching down to grab Zenitsu’s fallen belongings and stomping over to the driver’s bench. Zenitsu sniffles, presses his forehead to Kanao’s, and mouths ‘thank you’ before scampering to follow Sanemi, unwilling to risk truly irritating him. Genya quietly offers to sit up front and lead the horses, but his brother shoos him off and demands that he sit in the back. 

Genya sits next to Zenitsu with his usual awkward air, water dripping from his long hair onto the wooden bench. “A-ah, Genya, you’ll catch a cold if you stay like that!” Zenitsu slips his haori off his shoulders and begins patting the scarred man down, trying to dry him off ineffectually with the fabric. Flustered by the attention, Genya sits stock-still and lets Zenitsu fret over him, wringing out his soaked hair and tugging his wet clothes away from his skin to try and let air circulate underneath. He flushes when he sees his brother eying them with an amused smirk. 

“Trying to add my little brother to your harem, Agatsuma? How shameless,” Sanemi chides. Zenitsu shrieks directly into Genya’s ear. 

“What are you saying?! Of course not, I would never!! Not that you’re not good looking, Genya, you’re very handsome but I− HUH?? HAREM?! Who said that? Has Tengen been telling everybody ? Oh my god, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything to him, that gossipy bastard. Genya, I wasn’t trying anything, I swear, please believe me!!” 

“Zenitsu…” Genya sets his hands on Zenitsu’s shoulder’s, pulling him back where he’s flung himself across the seat and Genya’s lap in despair, “It’s fine.” Zenitsu blinks at him, tears still dripping from his eyes. He is kinda cute , Genya thinks, though god forbid he ever voice that opinion. Sanemi is cackling to himself in the front seat, loud and careless, so maybe he can get away with saying something and go unheard to avoid teasing. “Um. We don’t care, y’know. I mean like, us and the other Hashira...we’re all glad that you guys are happy, or whatever.” Inelegant, but the point gets across, if Zenitsu bursting into tears once more and clinging to Genya’s broad shoulders is anything to go by. 

“You’re really an angel, Genya! A real angel!” Genya just resigns himself to his fate, patting Zenitsu’s back awkwardly and closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to meet Sanemi’s, which are close to tears with laughter. 

*

The carriage is quiet by the time they reach the house. Zenitsu is slumped heavily against Genya’s side, sound asleep, still recovering and wrung of his energy after his stressful outburst and the gentle rocking of the hour-long ride. Sanemi leaves Genya, who is trying to decide between the struggle of waking the blonde and the embarrassment of carrying him, to go knock at the front door. 

“Huh? What the hell do you want?” Inosuke greets him. 

“I ought to take your delivery right back for that attitude,” Sanemi sneers, glaring at the younger man. Inosukle bristles, stepping forward so they’re chest to chest and snarling into each other’s faces like two angry dogs.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! If you wanna fight just say that!” 

Sanemi is about to take him up on that offer when Inosuke looks up suddenly and freezes. He glances over his shoulder and sees Genya walking up, his face red as a tomato, with Zenitsu still sleeping peacefully in his arms. The air between them loses all tension in a second, like a popped balloon, and Sanemi is unceremoniously knocked to the side as Inosuke stomps forward and silently takes the sleeping blonde from Genya. He pauses, absentmindedly shifting all of Zenitsu’s weight to one arm so that he can reach up and pat Genya’s head like a dog. “Thanks,” is all he says before walking back inside, the door left open behind him. Sanemi can feel a vein twitching angrily in his forehead. 

The brothers hear some muffled voices inside, excited, then confused, and then indignant. Tanjirou appears in the doorway a few seconds later, looking embarrassed, and ushers them inside. “I apologize for Inosuke’s rudeness,” he mumbles. In the sitting room Inosuke is at the tea table, sat with Zenitsu still in his lap, looking like a spoiled child hogging a toy. Nezuko rolls her eyes at him as she sets down some tea and snacks, greeting Sanemi and Genya in a pointedly polite tone. 

Genya is surprised by how comfortable he feels. The whole house is just warm and inviting, a shelter from the storm. There are fresh flowers in a vase on the table and a stack of dented wooden swords in the corner. A shamisen is lying on the floor next to a pile of sheet music. There are paintings hanging on the walls, amateurish but pretty, clearly done by someone in the house. A forgotten sock is crumpled in the hall entryway. It’s been a long time since he’s been in a home that was so lived in. Zenitsu sighs as they chatter, shifting only to press his nose further into the nape of Inosuke’s neck. Out of the corner of his eye, Genya sees a small smile tugging at his brother’s lips. 

Chapter Text

Zenitsu is well aware that he’s prone to overthinking and melodrama, but he’d like to think that at his mature age of twenty one he’s become more level headed. Nowadays he’s likely to wait up to three, maybe even four, hours before a full blown freak out, to see if things are as bad as they seem. So, considering how far he’s come, he’s been very cool and collected about this whole thing. He’s not afraid to admit now that he’s becoming desperate. 

At first he felt a little stupid for even worrying about it, but that had been two weeks ago. Now it’s been over a month since he’s returned from the Butterfly Estate, and Tanjirou and Inosuke still won’t touch him. Or they touch him, but it’s hardly any different from before; hands at his waist and the nape of his neck when they walk with him, chaste, sweet kisses in greeting and parting, maybe a playful swat to his ass every now and then. Perhaps it’s a testament to how much they all acted like a pair of married couples before actually getting together, but while Zenitsu treasures every last drop of affection down to even the briefest loving glance, he wants more. 

He’s not sure what the problem is exactly. They don’t seem to trust that he’s fully healed yet, tutting at him when he lifts something too heavy and forbidding Nezuko from taking him on walks that are too long (not that they listen). Zenitsu had gone to spar with a Mizunoto one day when the other two Hashira were distracted from training and when they returned Inosuke had nearly beaten the poor boy to a pulp before Zenitsu could explain that he’d initiated it. He enjoys being coddled and babied, but they’ve been taking it a bit far. 

Still, he can’t help but turn back to those thoughts that have lingered in the back of his mind for as long as he can remember, a lonely little boy watching the other kids laugh and play without him. Was he not good enough? Was there something wrong with him, some intrinsic thing about him that people didn’t like? What if he couldn't change? Staring into the mirror one night, pulling at his skin and wondering if his scars have gotten darker, he decides it’s time to take matters into his own hands.

For the first night, he tries something simple: be there and be naked. It’s easy enough; he takes his usual evening bath, making sure to clean himself thoroughly. Forgoing his robe he tiptoes up to the bedroom in just his towel, grateful that the three other members of the household are otherwise occupied. They’d rearranged after he had returned home, setting up the biggest room upstairs, which had been Tanjirou’s, to now hold all three of them. Zenitsu’s room had been converted into a library and Inosuke’s room became an indoor training area, with Nezuko still downstairs in the room that overlooked the garden. He slips inside noiselessly and puts the towel away in the closet hamper. From the open window he can hear Tanjirou and Nezuko speaking quietly, their sounds thrumming with contentment. He smiles as he lays down on the large futon, his warm skin catching on the cool sheets. 

He flips through several positions as he waits, attempting to pose seductively and then getting embarrassed and readjusting. The sky outside the window fades from pink to purple to midnight blue, until he can see a few stars twinkling at him, winking almost. He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he’s jostled awake by the sensation of something being pulled up over his thighs. 

“You were so tired you forgot to put your pajamas on, sweetheart,” Tanjirou whispers in the dark, tugging a pair of silk shorts up to cover his bare lower half. “Are you cold? Do you want a shirt too?” Zenitsu is thankful that the night covers his blush as he hums in declination. Tanjirou presses a kiss to the still bare skin of his knee and settles next to him. He doesn’t realize that Insouke is already on the other side of him until rough fingers brush some hair from his forehead so that another kiss can be placed there. 

“Don’t overwork yourself, dummy,” Inosuke grumbles, his sound radiating affection. Zenitsu can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed at his failure, sighing happily as his boys wrap him in their arms and drifting back to sleep. He is annoyed the next morning when he wakes up horny and alone again. 

For his next attempt he decides to be a bit more direct, though nudity is still the key factor. He tries Tanjirou first. “Could we take a bath together tonight?” he asks shyly, watching the other man from under his lashes. 

“Of course, darling. Do you want me to go run it?” Tanjirou replies easily, not even looking up from the newspaper he’s reading. 

“I’ll do it,” Zenitsu mumbles. Lack of initial enthusiasm won’t deter him! There will be plenty of time for enthusiasm later! He gets the bath ready with some nice essential oils to pamper Tanjirou’s nose and waits nervously, playing with the edge of his robe. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me to get in,” Tanjirou says when he arrives, leaning down to kiss Zenitsu’s neck, which is starting to sweat from the steam of the bath. 

“But I wanted to take it with you.” He can’t keep the slight whine out of his voice. A dimple pokes in Tanjirou’s cheek when he grins at him and Zenitsu swoons. His eyes rake over Tanjirou’s muscular frame as he steps into the tub, the way his shoulders and biceps flex as he lowers himself into the water. When he slips his own robe off Tanjirou politely looks away and he has to bite his tongue to keep from groaning in disappointment. 

“Can I wash your hair, baby?” Tanjirou asks sweetly, before Zenitsu can even think of a way to get him hot and bothered. Zenitsu nods and lets the larger man shift him into a better position, shivering at the feeling of his hands sliding across his wet skin. Then begins the most thorough, relaxing scalp massage he’s ever had in his life. He ends up slumped against the side of the tub, half asleep, not noticing Tanjirou giggling behind him and quietly washing his own hair. 

He’s more prepared for Inosuke’s attack. He walks in on him already bathing and starts wordlessly sliding off his clothes. Inosuke, for his part, watches him rapturously, giving him a wolfish grin when he finally stands, flushed and naked, in front of the bath. “Water’s fine,” he comments, leaning back and resting his arms along the edge of the tub. He watches Zenitsu’s honey-golden eyes follow the dark trail of hair leading from his belly button under the water and looks smug as a cat that caught a mouse. Zenitsu stomps into the bath and slams himself down, sending water sloshing over the side of the tub. Whatever, he thinks, he’ll be the one cleaning it up later anyway. 

Inosuke makes no offers of massages or scrubs, simply sits, silent and amused, waiting for Zenitsu to make the next move. Zenitsu scowls into the water and turns around, scooting backward until his back is flush to Inosuke’s chest. His heart thunders against his ribs and it’s some small comfort that he can feel, and hear, Inosuke’s beating just as loud. Despite all his planning, he’s not sure what to do now that he’s faced with the real potential of his desires. Inosuke noses at his ear, breathing hot against the already heated skin. 

“You feel a little warm, is the water too hot for you?” 

“N-Noー” 

Suddenly Zenitsu is drenched in icy cold water. He turns around in shock to see Inosuke holding an empty bucket over his head, cackling loudly. “Oh come on, don’t be mad! I challenge you to a breath holding contest! I can last, like, four minutes, watch!” They end up nearly drowning each other before Tanjirou comes in and drags them both out of the bath. Inosuke is the one who has to mop up that night, supervised by Nezuko. 

Nudity, evidently, is not the key. He doesn’t let himself think too hard about that, hatching up a few more less meticulously planned seduction techniques. He wears his shortest pair of shorts and drops things in front of them all morning so that he can bend over to pick them up, but Inosuke scolds him for being clumsy and Tanjirou starts carrying everything for him. He sits in Inosuke’s lap during dinner and gets whacked in the face with food all night. He rubs Tanjirou’s dirty clothes all over himself and sprawls across him, and Tanjirou sniffs his neck and asks him if he needs help doing the laundry. 

In a last attempt to not get discouraged, he throws himself into dinner preparations one day, snapping at anyone who dares to step foot in the kitchen. By the time the sun has set, he’s prepared a decadent spread of each of Tanjirou and Inosuke’s favorite dishes (and Nezuko’s too, his darling angel). They both sit at the dining table with their mouths open comically wide, not daring to touch any dishes as though they’re afraid it will turn out to be a trick of the eye. 

“What’s the occasion?” Nezuko asks. Zenitsu can hear the teasing undertone and narrows his eyes at her, engaging in a quick, silent conversation. Don’t blow my cover. You should be more blunt. This is as blunt as I get, leave me alone and eat your food! 

“Oh, everyone’s just been working so hard lately, I wanted to reward you all,” Zenitsu says airily, Nezuko bites her lip as she nods, her shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. 

“Zenitsu, you’re amazing,” Tanjirou says reverently, finally looking up at him with a lovestruck gaze. 

“This is the best tempura I’ve ever had,” Insouke agrees around a mouthful of food, not bothering to wait for anyone else to start eating, “You’re like a god. The god of cooking.” 

They continue lavashing him with praise for the duration of the meal, until Zenitsu is flushed and squirming in his seat, having hardly touched his own food. Nezuko retires to bed early with a sigh and an affectionate ruffle of Zenitsu’s hair, the three of them leaving the dishes for tomorrow as they head up to their room. Zenitsu is too nervous to say anything as he changes into his sleep clothes, crawling quietly to his usual spot in the middle of the bed. 

“You take such good care of us,” Tanjirou says as he settles beside him, pulling one of Zenitsu’s arms toward himself and pushing the sleeve up so he can press kisses along the smooth skin of the underside. Inosuke leans over him and mouths at his neck on his other side, one large palm settling on his thigh. 

“Sweet boy,” the raven-haired man whispers, “Our little housewife.” Zenitsu whimpers, overwhelmed, feeling tears prickle behind his eyelids. Tanjirou lies him down and kisses him, his hand slipping under the front of his shirt to rest on his stomach and feel it heaving with his heavy breaths. He kisses him so tenderly, and when he pulls back Zenitsu whines and tries to chase his mouth. Inosuke cups his cheek and pulls his face toward himself, licking into his mouth afterward. His kisses are firmer, they make him open his mouth wider so he can have more more more. 

“W-wait! Um!” Zenitsu sits up, suddenly anxious. It’s happening! They really want him, all of him. He presses his palms to his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, and I…” A snore cuts him off. When he turns, he sees that Inosuke and Tanjirou are both fast asleep, their heads bent close together in the space where his own head had been just moments before. He’d fed them so much that he’d ended up knocking them out cold. Humiliated, he goes downstairs to sleep with Nezuko, telling her he’d had a nightmare that he didn’t want to bother the boys with. 

They don’t have time to discuss it the next day; Tanjirou and Inosuke are woken at dawn by Tanjirou’s crow sending them on an urgent reconnaissance mission to the northeast. Zenitsu sleepily sees them off, feeling a bit guilty about their confused, concerned eyes on him. He just pulls them in for kisses and makes them promise to come home safely, watching them from the gate as they head off into the sunrise. 

With Nezuko still asleep, Zenitsu wanders around the quiet house, trying to find something to occupy him other than his racing thoughts. He ends up back in the bedroom, staring at the messy futon where the bedding still lies in a haphazard jumble from Inosuke and Tanjirou’s tossing and turning. The problem isn’t lack of desire, he tells himself firmly, it’s lack of drive. He’s got to really up the ante. He can’t ask Nezuko for advice; she’d try to help out of loyalty to Zenitsu but he’d rather jump off the roof than tell her about intimacy issues involving her brother. Kanao is also too much like a sister to him, and Aoi and Shinobu would kill him for even asking. He could go see Mitsuri, but she's been so busy lately with the baby, and she’d definitely tell Obanai, who would tell Sanemi, who would tell Genya and so on. There’s really only one option, he knows, but thinking about it is giving him a headache, so he crawls under the covers and pulls them over his head, falling asleep to the smell of laundry soap and sweat. 

*

Zenitsu is beginning to think maybe it’s not so big of a deal after all. He can live without sex. He’s gone twenty one years without it so far, why break the streak now? What really matters more to him, his virginity, or his dignity? He pauses, whines, and stomps up to the front door. 

“Is that Zenitsu I hear?” 

He’s about to turn around and begin his two hour walk home when the door opens. Tengen grins at him, looking more menacing than inviting. “The Lightning Hashira has deigned to pay a visit to little old me? To what do I owe the honor?” Zenitsu just stares at him, silent, fuming, until he rolls his eyes and starts back down the hall. 

“Your manners are too poor to be here on good will alone, so why don’t you tell me what you want?” 

Zenitsu grinds his teeth and mutters something under his breath. Tengen is the former Sound Hashira, he knows the bastard heard him, but of course: “What was that, little sparrow? You’ll have to speak up.” 

“I said I need your help!” Zenitsu snaps. His voice echoes in Tengen’s stupidly large sitting room. 

“Oh my! Do you really?” he giggles with delight. Zenitsu closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. “That’s enough, you drama queen. Now what’s causing trouble for my talented little Tsuguko?” 

As expected, the praise shoots straight through Zenitsu’s heart; in an instant he’s blushing and smiling into his hands. The complete 180 in mood honestly concerns Tengen a little bit, but that’s a worry for another day. After a moment Zenitsu collects himself, slamming his hands into his lap and looking up at Tengen with a serious expression that is diminished by his lingering blush. 

“D-don’t be weird about it when I say it, okay? I’m dead serious. It took a lot for me to come to you with this. Seriously. A lot,” Zenitsu says. Tengen raises an eyebrow and leans forward. If he had a tail it would have been thumping the ground with excitement. He waits for Zenitsu to continue. 

“Idon’tknowhowtogetTanjirouandInosuketohavesexwithme!” 

“HUH?!” A chorus of feminine voices shout before Tengen even has the chance to process the flood that had just come out of Zenitsu’s mouth. Hina, Suma, and Makio come tumbling around the corner, completely unashamed at having outed their eavesdropping.

“Zenitsu’s having sex!” Suma wails, clutching his head against her chest. Not yet, he thinks miserably. 

“Wait- Wait a minute!” Tengen is shouting over his wives as they fuss and giggle excitedly, “You want me to give you advice on having sex ?! With those morons? No way! Y-you’re still a kid!” 

“Are you kidding?” Zenitsu whines. Of all the scenarios he’d imagined coming here, Tengen being embarrassed was never one of them. 

“He’s twenty one, Tengen! You were married to us already by that age!” Makio argues. Zenitsu tries to reach out and grab her hand in thanks, but he can’t really see past Suma’s tits still smushed into his face. 

“If you’re going to be a prude then go to town and pick up something for lunch. We’re going to be too busy to cook right now,” Hina shoos him. Tengen seems to consider arguing but shrugs, standing up and heading for the door. He wishes Zenitsu good luck, and then he’s out of the house, leaving Zenitsu alone with three beautiful, bright eyed, nosy women. 

“Spill.” 

Zenitsu tells them everything: his debacle of a mission, his long stay at the Butterfly estate, Tanjirou and Inosuke’s confessions, and then his return and his failed seduction attempts, ending with their awkward departure after falling asleep in the middle of a make-out session. The women’s faces go from worried to delighted to disbelieving to downright indignant. 

“Do you think it’s...me?” Zenitsu asks meekly when his story is through. 

“Of course not, honey. You’re a beauty with a booty,” Makio assures him, reaching down to give his ass a squeeze in emphasis. 

“They’re probably just a couple of nervous virgins! They don’t know what to do with you, it’s so cute!” Suma squeals. 

“Well, I am,” Zenitsu mumbles. He realizes then that he’s not actually sure if they’re virgins too. Surely none of them had had time to worry much about sex when they were three teenagers trying to defeat a demon king, but it had been years since then. And they weren’t always together, the three of them got their fair share of extended solo missions. Zenitsu had certainly never tried anything, much too busy reading romance novels and dreaming of tinkling earrings and beastly grunts. But that didn’t mean that Tanjirou and Inosuke hadn’t done anything on one or a few of those lonely nights, far away from home, with some pretty village girl or handsome barkeep. How stupid am I? He thinks. They must have known. What does someone like me have to offer? 

“Hey,” Makio’s voice pulls him from his thoughts, “Quit the waterworks.” She wipes tears from his cheeks that he hadn’t even realized had been seeping from his eyes. His lip wobbles and he hides his face behind the sleeve of his haori, knowing his nose has started to run. 

“Tengen is right, they are morons,” Hina sighs. Zenitsu hears her stand up. “But, if it’s morons Zen wants, it’s morons he’ll get. C’mon girls, let’s get to work.” 

Zenitsu lies on Tengens’s ridiculously plush, extravagant bed, and tries very very hard not to think about anything that may have occurred on it. Just sleeping. Nice, peaceful sleep. Suma twists braids into his hair, cooing over how soft and pretty it is, as he listens to Hina and Makio’s muffled argument in the large closet. “This color would suit him much better, are you blind?!” 

“Those are lovely,” Suma comments. She pulls Zenitsu’s wrist to get a closer look at the gemstones on his bracelet, using her foot to nudge Zenitsu’s ankle up so that the light catches the matching gold chain clasped around it. Zenitsu hums, admiring the anklet himself. 

“I bought the bracelet, the anklet was a gift from Tanjirou.” He watches a devious grin spread across Suma’s face, not too different from Tengen’s. 

“Laaaadiiiies! I’ve got the best idea!” 

Two hours later he’s poking his sore ears, now pierced twice each and dangling with sparkling gold earrings, a heavy bag of jewelry and some clothes clutched in his other hand. “You really think they’ll like this?” Zenitsu asks, lingering near the door. He can hear Tengen still chuckling inside; he’d returned home with food, seen Zenitsu’s ears, and hadn’t stopped laughing since. 

“Trust me, you’ll be getting some,” Hina assures him with a dismissive wave of her hand, “More than that asshole yucking it up in there will be.” 

“Hey!” 

“Go on and get home before it starts getting dark, Zen! And have us over for dinner again soon, we miss your cooking.” 

*

Nezuko is grinning when she comes to meet him at the garden gate, but her face quickly drops into a blank stare when she spots his earrings. He freezes, a hand reaching up to shield one ear. 

“Is this some kind of weird sex thing?” she asks, deadpan. Damn her.

“NOOOOO! Nezuko, how could you think so little of me...I’m shocked!” 

She sighs, turning to go back into the house without her usual hug and leaving Zenitsu to follow dejectedly behind her. “Tanjirou sent his crow to say they’ll be home by tomorrow evening. I’ll head over to Kanao’s in the morning. I don’t want to get involved in any of…this.” 

Zenitsu stands on the engawa like a scolded child, refusing to meet Nezuko’s eye. Seeing him fidgeting there, red faced and staring at his feet, she is reminded so much of that silly boy she first met that she takes pity on him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “You look very handsome, Zenitsu. I’m sure you and the boys will have a nice, totally wholesome homecoming tomorrow. With absolutely no funny business.” 

“None whatsoever…” 

She begrudgingly picks through the jewelry he’s brought to help him find the pieces that look best, shuddering every time she accidentally thinks about what’s going to happen to it tomorrow night. Determined to avoid even the slightest chance of being home when Tanjirou and Inosuke get back, she leaves for the Butterfly Estate as soon as the sky lightens, leaving Zenitsu to fret alone for the rest of the day. 

He distracts himself for most of the morning, cleaning things he usually doesn’t get the chance to when everyone’s home and preparing some food that can sit out for a while so he won’t have to cook later. He hopes that he’ll be too...busy to worry about making dinner. By mid afternoon, after sitting for close to an hour re-reading the same paragraph of a book, he makes his way up to the bedroom to prepare. Even that doesn’t take as long as he’d imagined, and all dressed up with nowhere to go, he ends up drowsing on the futon as he waits. 

He jolts awake to the sound of the front door sliding open and a heavy commotion downstairs, which is surely Inosuke throwing his gear all over the place like he usually does after a mission. “We’re home!” said terror bellows, as if Zenitsu hadn’t known the second they’d come in the door. Zenitsu’s heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of his chest. He fingers his sore ear with one hand, the other fidgeting with one of the chains dangling from his neck, and forces a few deep, slow breaths. The longer he waits, listening to them move around downstairs, the more sure he is that he’s made a terrible mistake. They’re going to think he looks weird and stupid, and everything will be ruined. He’s about to get up and lock the door so he can change when he hears familiar footsteps barreling up the stairs. 

“Hey! Are you sleeping? C’mon, we haven’t seen you in two days,” Inosuke calls through the door before throwing it open. He freezes, poised to shout again, Tanjirou right on his heels.

“W-Welcome home,” Zenitsu squeaks. He’s splayed out on the futon, resting on his elbows with his legs spread wantonly. The short, sheer, wine colored robe that the Uzui’s had lent him tickles his thighs as they twitch, torn between clamping shut and spreading further. His ankles are decorated with more bracelets, some thin and twinkling, others heavy with jewels. His wrists and neck and fingers are similarly adorned. He’s practically dripping in gold, with even a golden-chain garter pinching lightly at one plump thigh (he’d hidden it from Nezuko when she was helping him pick out jewelry). His hair, usually brushing the tops of his shoulders, is tied back at the nape of his neck to show off his newly pierced ears and the golden hoops that dangle from them. He looks like a spoiled courtesan waiting for his rich lover’s return. Tanjirou’s face is starting to look the same shade as his hair. 

No one speaks. As the silence stretches on, Zenitsu tries valiantly not to cry, but a few tears escape the corners of his eyes and drip toward his temples. He sits up. “I’m sorry. I’ll get dressed,” he says quietly, ashamed. That’s what he gets for wanting more than what others are willing to give.

“No fuckin’ way!” Insouke yells, finally stepping forward into the room. He lurches toward Zenitsu, looking like he’s about to pounce on him, then stops and turns toward Tanjirou who is still frozen in the doorway. “Tanjirou, come on, look at him! You can’t be serious.”

“Do you think I look bad?” Zenitsu asks, looking up at Tanjirou under his lashes.

“No!” Tanjirou turns even redder, if possible. “Zenitsu, you look— so beautiful! But…you’re hurt…”

“I’m not!” Zenitsu whines. Of course he would still be concerned about that, even after so much time has passed. He yanks open the robe, exposing the starburst of a scar on the left side of his otherwise smooth, white belly and slaps his hand over it, hard. The sound of it echoes in the room, leaving both Inosuke and Tanjirou looking like they had been stricken. “It’s okay, seriously. Please, you can touch me. I’ll be good, I promise.” He is not above begging at this point. Inosuke growls, his patience worn out, and drops heavily on top of Zenitsu who is flattened into the sheets. 

He’s so big Zenitsu thinks deliriously as Inosuke licks into his mouth, a hand on his jaw to keep it open. He completely covers Zenitsu, who’d stopped growing shortly after turning seventeen while everyone else shot up around him, not that he’d minded, really. It feels so good to have the bigger man pressing down on him, touching him everywhere so easily. Inosuke’s other hand slips down his front, undoing the robe the rest of the way so it falls to his sides, and grips his already leaking dick. Zenitsu keens, his heels slipping on the futon as he tries to find purchase to thrust up into his fist.

Another hand cups his face and his head is turned so that Tanjirou can kiss him too, their lips sliding sloppily against each other. Inosuke is unbothered, moving his head to suck at the side of Zenitsu’s neck. “I’m sorry baby,” Tanjirou breathes, hot in his sensitive ear that aches a little when his lips brush against the piercings, “You’ve been waiting so long, got so pretty for us. We’ll make it up to you, okay?” Zenitsu whimpers. He couldn’t form a sentence even if he wanted to. Inosuke’s thumb is circling over his slit, precum making the slide easier. Zenitsu thrashes, his legs trying to close against the intense pleasure, but Tanjirou grips one thigh under his arm and spreads him open further, until his leg is flat against the floor.

“Look at you, all dressed up,” Inosuke pants, sitting up on his knees to get a better view, “Our very own whore. We can do whatever we want with you, right?”

Zenitsu is sobbing. “Please, please, please,” he begs, unsure what for. Anything, he thinks, but his brain won’t work. Tanjirou’s finger circles his hole and slides in, slick with the oil he’d hidden under the pillow beneath his head, revealed by his thrashing. 

“Use your words, Zenitsu,” Tanjirou says, cloyingly, teasing. He bites lightly at one of Zenitsu’s earrings and tugs it with his teeth, careful, but just enough for it to sting. Zenitsu almost cums, but somehow Inosuke knows and grips tight at the base of his cock, preventing it. Distantly, he realizes that the other two are still fully dressed, except for Inosuke’s shirt, and he’s panting and naked and covered in his own precum. It makes him feel pleasantly dirty, and he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. “Zenitsu,” Tanjirou prompts again, grinning against his tear covered cheek. 

“Huh?” Zenitsu can’t remember what he had been asked. His vision is starting to blur as another finger enters him, Inosuke’s, thicker and rougher than Tanjirou’s. They undulate inside him, going at two different angles at once, until one of them brushes against his prostate and his whole body jolts, the leg not held by Tanjirou kicking out beside him. Inosuke uses his knee to press it to the floor on the other side of him so that he’s spread wide, another one of Tanjirou’s fingers slipping into his now easily accessible hole. “Uhhhnn, ss good,” Zenitsu slurs. He can feel himself drooling. Inosuke kisses him again like he’s trying to swallow him whole. 

“You take him first,” he hears Tanjirou say somewhere above him, “I’ll have his mouth for now.” Someone flips him over so that he’s on his stomach and then lifts him onto his knees, his necklaces swinging below him. There’s rustling behind him and then bare skin is pressed all along his back and thighs as Inosuke leans over him and presses a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“You okay?” he asks. Zenitsu smiles dazedly, shifting his hips back so that Inosuke’s cock slips between his slick cheeks, catching on his rim. Both of them groan.

“Mhmmm,” he sighs, “love you.” Inosuke gives him one more lingering kiss before pulling away and squeezing the fat of his ass, which is the only warning he gets before he thrusts inside. Zenitsu is stretched and relaxed enough that Inosuke is able to get all the way to the hilt on the first push, his hips flush to Zenitsu’s ass. Zenitsu moans brokenly, his elbows wobbling as he struggles to hold himself up against the pleasure of it. He’s thick and hot inside him, it feels so good that Zenitsu thinks he must be dreaming. Then Inosuke grips his hips, pulls him halfway forward, and thrusts inside again, and Zenitsu doesn’t think at all.

Tanjirou takes his chin and tilts his head up so Zenitsu can see his kind, smiling face. “Open your mouth for me baby,” he says, hooking a thumb behind his bottom teeth and pulling down. Zenitsu holds it open obediently, letting his tongue loll out, unconcerned about the drool that drips from his chin. Tanjirou rests the head of his dick on it, letting Zenitsu lick messily at it for a few seconds, and then slides it into his waiting mouth. Zenitsu hums happily around it, his hands reaching up to grip Tanjirou’s hips for balance. Inosuke keeps the lower half of him upright with a tight grip on his waist, his large hands only a few inches from wrapping completely around it. 

Zenitsu doesn’t have to do much; Inosuke’s thrusts rock him back and forth every few seconds, pushing Tanjirou’s dick to the back of his throat. He feels like a pretty doll, only there to be fondled and fucked. He gets lost in the rhythm and steady pleasure for a while, until Inosuke yanks him backwards and grinds hard right against his prostate and Tanjirou’s cock slips from his mouth as he throws his head back to scream at the intensity of it. He cums hard enough that some of it splatters up his chest, his dick aching and untouched. Inosuke fucks into him haphazardly, sending him jolting face first and whimpering into Tanjirou’s muscled stomach. Tanjirou pets his hair and soothes him as he cries while Inosuke chases his own orgasm and cums deep inside Zenitsu, groaning loudly. 

“There you go,” Tanjirou coos. Zenitsu feels Insouke pull out of him and shivers as cum drips down his shaking thighs. “Are you done, or can you take some more?” In answer, Zenitsu presses a kiss to the side of Tanjirou’s dick, still hard and pulsing next to his face, and flops over onto his back, spreading his legs again. 

Insouke shifts so that he’s sitting near Zenitsu’s head now and Tanjirou moves between Zenitsu’s legs, taking one and lifting it up to place his knee on top of his shoulder. The stretch burns a little, but Zenitsu feels drunk with pleasure and barely notices it. Inosuke brushes hair off his sweaty forehead and lays a kiss on it, moving to whisper in his ear, “My good boy, I love you so much.” 

Tanjirou fucks him more gently, but he lingers on every inward thrust, pushing so deep that Zenitsu can feel him in his stomach. He reaches the hand that isn’t holding up Zenitsu’s leg down to rub at his stretched rim. “You’re so wet,” he says breathlessly, feeling where he’s sloppy with oil and cum, and Zenitsu covers his face to moan brokenly into his palms. 

Inosuke tsks and pulls his hands away, tugging his wrists together and pulling them so that they’re stretched above his head. “Don’t cover that pretty face, show Tanjirou how good he’s making you feel.” Tears leak from Zenitsu’s eyes, which he can barely keep open. Distantly, he thinks Inosuke has begun stroking him, but everything blurs together in one haze of pleasure. Just before Tanjirou cums, he reaches down and presses his fingertips into Zenitsu’s stomach so that they can both feel where he’s deep inside him. Zenitsu’s mouth hangs open in a silent scream as he orgasms a second time, feeling overfull when Tanjirou cums inside him too. The last thing he remembers before passing out are gentle hands pulling him off the wet spot on the futon and kisses being peppered on each of his cheeks. 

When he blinks awake again he can see flickering candle light casting shadows onto the wall in front of him. He’s naked and mostly dry, but he can still feel something slick and wet between his thighs. When he reaches down and pulls his fingers away he realizes that cum is still dripping out of his ass. 

“Sorry.” He rolls over and sees Inosuke and Tanjirou sitting near the edge of the futon, dressed in loose pants and munching on the snacks he had prepared earlier. Tanjirou is grinning sheepishly at him, his cheeks slightly flushed, while Inosuke looks unperturbed. 

“We didn’t clean you there cuz it looks hot leaking out of you,” Inosuke says shamelessly. 

“Do you want a towel?” Tanjirou asks, looking ready to leap up and go fetch the moon if that was what Zenitsu asked for. 

“Mmm-mm,” Zenitsu hums, flushing and pushing some of the cum back into himself with one finger, “I like it.” Inosuke shoves the rest of the onigiri he’d been eating into his mouth and begins shucking off his pants. 

“I told you we shouldn’t have gotten dressed.” 

*

“You need to clean that table again,” Nezuko says cooly, peering down her nose at Zenitsu who is hunched over the kotatsu, scrubbing it miserably. 

“I’m telling you, we didn’t do anything on the table! I swear, Nezuko, that would be gross,” Zenitsu whines, scrubbing harder when she glares. 

“I don’t believe you. I saw you when I got back, you looked worse than when you were recovering at the Butterfly Estate. It was like someone tried to eat you!” 

“We did eat him,” Inosuke calls from the next room. 

“Okay, for that you can wipe down all the doors again,” Nezuko orders. They both ignore his indignant shouting. Tanjirou wisely keeps quiet as he scrubs every surface in the kitchen. Zenitsu keeps his head down as he works, but Nezuko can see that his face is stained red and his eyes are getting that familiar misty sheen. As usual, her soft spot for him wins out over any annoyance he’s caused, and she tugs him up by the arm. “C’mon, let’s go pick some flowers for the house,” she says, pulling him into the garden. She does not comment on the new pieces of golden jewelry that sparkle around his neck and wrists, ones that are all his own.

Chapter Text

Spring paints the garden in glistening pinks and yellows and greens. All the fragrant flowers are in full bloom, filling the air with their sweet scents and the fresh smell of earth. Zenitsu hangs another sheet on the laundry line strung up between two trees, which, when not being used for laundry, hold a wide hammock. The damp cotton twists in the breeze and his eyes catch on a small figure teetering on the edge of the engawa. He smiles and pets the fuzzy head of the baby bound to his front, slumbering peacefully against his chest as he works. “Your sister is going to be the death of me,” he says, kissing the baby’s plump cheek when he smacks his lips in response. 

He watches a look of determination, more befitting a warrior than a three year old child, cross the little girl’s face, and then she leaps. She lands more gracefully than he expected, but still ends up sprawled in the grass. He waits, and when he hears a whimper rushes over, kneeling down beside her and pulling her upright into his lap. “Kotoha, my darling, how many times have I told you to call for me when you want to get down,” he chides, brushing grass off her kimono. She pouts, tears of frustration clouding her eyes. 

“Dad and Papa said I’m a big girl now,” she says with all the stubbornness of her fathers. Zenitsu holds in a laugh. 

“Yes, my love. But even big girls need help sometimes, right?” This gives her pause, and she mulls over it silently. Zenitsu loves to watch her face, the way expressions pass over it so clearly and unbidden. 

“Okay,” she says finally, settling the matter for herself, “and I help you, Daddy.” The baby, awoken by the noise and his sister’s energetic movement, gurgles to make his presence known. “I help Rokuta too!” He delights at her attention and the sound of his name coming from her mouth, wiggling to try and see her better. Overcome by affection, he holds his two babies tight to his chest for a moment, until Kotoha shireks and giggles that he’s squishing her. 

“Miss Kotoha, will you please help me finish with the laundry before your fathers and brother get home?” She jumps up, eager to do a big girl activity, and spends the next half hour handing Zenitsu pieces of laundry out of the basket. Eventually Rokuta starts to squirm and Zenitsu sets him down in the grass next to her. He’s still learning how to sit up properly, but Kotoha is a diligent big sister and steadies him each time he wobbles. Once they’re done they make their way over to the front of the house to wait for everyone’s arrival, settling by the koi pond that Tanjirou and Inosuke had installed a few years prior. 

After a few minutes, three figures appear around the curve of the path that cuts through the forest leading to town. Kotoha jumps to her feet and looks to Zenitsu, her eyes gleaming. “Go ahead,” he laughs, and she shoots off as fast as her little legs can take her, colliding with the smallest of the three who has also run out to meet her. When the four of them reach the front gates and Rokuta can see who’s there he starts babbling rapid fire, reaching his arms out excitedly. Zentisu stands and goes to greet them, Rokuta nearly tumbling out of his arms as he strains to reach Tanjirou. 

Tanirou takes their son with a smile and a kiss to Zenitsu’s lips. Zenitsu turns to press a kiss against Inosuke’s grinning mouth, and when they linger a moment too long a little hand yanks at his yukata. “Daddy, I made a picture at school today! And I learned how to write my name!” 

“That’s wonderful, Jiji. Where’s the picture?” Zenitsu squats down to meet his oldest son’s gaze. Jigoro is five years old and ready to take on the whole world, as optimistic as Tanjirou and with the sometimes stupid bravery of both of his fathers. When he grins, a gap glimmers in his smile where he lost his front tooth the week before, which Zenitsu had cried over for almost two hours, lamenting that his baby was growing up too fast. Kotoha clings onto his back, her eyes wide with wonder. She adores her big brother most of all. 

“Papa has it! I was carrying it, but then I had to carry Koto!” 

Inosuke holds out a slightly crumpled paper that portrays a crudely drawn mass of stick people. Six are in the middle, and Zenitsu can see that the one with long yellow lines of hair is him, holding a lump with brown curls to show Rokuta. Next to Zenitsu is a portrait of Jigoro himself, appropriately labeled ‘ME!’, and the little figure in a pink dress next to him is Kotoha. Inosuke and Tanjirou are on either side, scribbled with swords and big, funny muscles. Zenitsu notices that there are lightning bolts coming from his head. Over the rest of the paper are even more figures, Nezuko and Kanao and their daughter Kie, Shinobu, Aoi, Mitsuri and Obanai and their gaggle of children, Kyoujurou, Senjurou, Tengen and his wives and their kids as well. Too many people to count, all of whom amass to make their messy, happy family. 

Jigoro is undisturbed by the fat tears rolling down his father’s cheeks, only hikes Kotoha higher on his back and starts running around the yard with her. “It’s the best drawing ever made in human history,” Inosuke declares proudly, pulling it closer to his face to examine it again. Zenitsu agrees with a wet giggle, and Inosuke and Tanjirou both wrap him in their arms, fondness ringing in Zenitsu’s ears. Rokuta reaches up and pats Zenitsu’s wet cheek with a curious gurgle. He’ll be used to his father’s easy tears soon enough. 

“What’d you get up to, today?” Zenitsu comes from the kitchen, apron tied around his waist, looking sweet and flushed from the heat of the stove. Tanjirou opens his arms and Zenitsu slides easily into them, resting his head in the crook of his neck. Inosuke, only half paying attention to them as he watches the kids play in the yard, Rokuta drowsing in his lap, reaches a hand out and holds one of Zenitsu’s bare ankles, just to touch him. 

“Not much,” Zenitsu says. He holds one of Tanjirou’s hands closer to his face to inspect it for any new cuts. His work as a potter has done nothing to lessen the roughness of his hands over the years, but Zenitsu is thankful that now it’s clay and not blood that he has to clean from beneath his fingernails. “Although your daughter seemed to think she could jump off the engawa by herself, earlier.” 

Inosuke turns and grins at them, unperturbed by their twin unimpressed faces. “That’s my girl! She’s not afraid of a little jump.” 

“She fell flat on her ass!” Zenitsu snaps. Inosuke laughs, not disturbing Rokuta, who is used to his father’s volume. 

“It’s fine. I’ll build some stairs for her, will that make you happy?” Inosuke had built most of the extensions on the house already, as their family had grown. 

“Yes, that will make me very happy,” Zenitsu sniffs, pretending to turn his nose up at him. Inosuke lifts his foot and kisses the center of the sole. “Stop, that’s digusting!” Zenitsu squeaks, though the bottoms of his feet are pink and clean. Inosuke just laughs again and hands the baby over so that he can go chase fireflies with Kotoha and Jigoro. Zenitsu leans back in Tanjirou’s arms and watches Rokuta sleep until he has to go check on dinner in the kitchen again. 

Zenitsu is not surprised when he wakes up to a small body climbing over his side and settling in between him and Inosuke. “Papa, move,” Kotoha whines, pushing Inosuke’s head backward with a tiny hand on his cheek. Inosuke, who can hardly be woken by three children screaming in his ears, snorts a little in his sleep and scoots backward a few inches. Pleased with the added space, Kotoha snuggles up to Zenitsu and tugs one of Inosuke’s arms up to hold her from behind. 

“Did you have a bad dream?” Zenitsu whispers. Rokuta makes a noise from his cot next to the bed and he feels Tanjirou sitting up behind him to check on him. Kotoha shrugs, a frown lingering on her face. She doesn’t tell him about her dreams. They had adopted her when she was a year old, and she had not been the hard-headed, energetic little girl she is today. She was quiet and somber, the attitude completely out of place on a baby. Zenitsu prays that one day she will forget whatever darkness follows her, but for now he holds her and strokes a hand through her long dark hair. 

“Daddy, sing for me please?” she asks quietly. Zenitsu begins to softly croon the lullaby he’d sung to her when she’d first come home and cried inconsolably through the night. He listens to her heartbeat slow to match his own. The door slides open again and Jigoro slips into the room, tiptoeing over to lay against Zenitsu’s other side. Tanjirou turns from where he had been settling the baby and laughs at the sight of his spot being taken. Unperturbed, he slides back into bed and curls around his son so that he can hold Zenitsu and Kotoha as well. Another weight jumps onto the foot of the bed, the cat who has slipped in through the crack Jigoro left in the door. 

“I think we might need a bigger bed,” Tanjirou whispers, amusement thick in his voice. Zenitsu peers at him over Jigoro’s head, at his warm eyes and content smile. Unable to move with two children asleep on top of him, he kisses his fingers and presses them against Tanjirou’s lips. Tanjirou takes his hand and plants a kiss into his palm. No matter how big their family grows, Zenitsu thinks, there will always be room by his side.