Work Text:
Sitting criss-cross on the floor, Sanemi impatiently waits.
The other Hashira are slowly piling in behind him, chattering loudly as they take their usual spots in the room. It’s too slow for his liking, but the master isn’t here yet, so he can’t really complain. He normally shows up right on time.
He hears the slither of a snake behind him, and a chill shoots up his spine. He hates that snake. He puts up with it because Obanai is the only one he can really tolerate. Obanai leans forward to whisper, voice raspy and fried, “Tomioka is late.”
Sanemi can only roll his eyes. Giyuu Tomioka is always late, and he’s always an annoyance. He thinks he’s better than all the other Hashira, and it makes Sanemi’s blood boil. No one is better than him, except maybe Gyomei, and he’s not about to let Giyuu parade around here like he’s on top. Not in this lifetime or the next.
But he can’t parade if he’s not here. No wonder the meeting is being delayed— every other Hashira is here. They should stop waiting for that idiot and get on with it.
Sanemi turns to look at his friend. “Of course he fucking is. What an asshole.”
“Be nice, Shinazugawa,” Shinobu lightly scolds him. Sanemi’s eyes will roll straight out of his head someday. “I heard he just got back from a mission.”
Sanemi groans, “I don’t give a fuck. Stupid asshole is late no matter when our meetings are. He shouldn’t even be a Hashira.”
Obanai nods in agreement, and Tengen just laughs, “You two are just obsessed.”
“What the fuck did you just say?” Sanemi asks, spine going rod straight like he’s been burned. He scowls at Tengen. “Do you want to die?”
Tengen smirks, “Oh, I’d like to see you try.”
Sanemi stands up, then, easily pissed off and always ready to fight. Tengen does too, poor Obanai smushed between them as Mitsuri squeaks, “Boys! You can’t—”
“Sorry I’m late,” a soft voice cuts through the tension in the room. Sanemi’s head whips to the door frame, to where Giyuu stands, draped in his ugly haori, eyes wide and wandering. The room falls silent, so silent Sanemi can hear the beating of his own heart in his ears. He looks as he always looks— disheveled, messy, stupid— but there’s something new today. Something that catches Sanemi’s breath in an unyielding grip, that has the room teetering on the edge.
Shinobu, as always, is the first to speak. “Tomioka… your hair…”
Giyuu’s hand absentmindedly reaches for his head. And normally, he’s sporting a frizzy ponytail with curled ends pointing in a million different directions, but today it’s different. It’s smooth and stops at his shoulders, half its normal length. Without all the weight, Giyuu looks lighter, clearer, more room for the pale skin of his face to be seen.
Sanemi swallows thickly.
“Oh,” Giyuu says softly. He runs his fingers through it, and it falls like a waterfall down to its resting point again, nestled perfectly at his collarbones. “I was protecting one of the corps members from a demon and it reached out and slashed at me. It cut a lot of my hair off so I decided to make it even.”
It’s still so quiet. Giyuu looks around, his eyes widening a little more.
“Does it look bad?”
Mitsuri stands and grabs his hands, “I love it! You’ll have to let me style it sometime! You look so cute!”
Giyuu flushes as the other Hashira join in. Sanemi can hear Obanai glaring beside him, but he can’t bring himself to care about that right now. Giyuu has short hair and it looks— it doesn't look bad. It kind of suits him perfectly, kind of makes it impossible for him to look away. Good god. He thinks Giyuu Tomioka looks good. He’s going to be sick.
“Flashy! I like it!” Tengen gives him a wink.
“I don’t remember what it looked like before,” Muichiro exhales, but his little hand reaches out to play with the end of one of the strands. Sanemi’s hands cramp from where he’s holding them in tight fists by his sides.
Obanai leans in again, scowling, “He looks stupid.”
“Yeah,” Sanemi says, trying to agree, but his voice comes out too breathy, and the words have no passion behind them. Because Sanemi doesn’t agree, not with Obanai at least. Mitsuri was far closer to the truth— Giyuu looks cute like this.
The thought forces him to finally look away. Thankfully, it’s also when the master decides to step into view, his children following closely behind in assistance.
He takes his seat again, bowing his head to the floor as the room falls into silence once more.
He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the image of Giyuu stuck in his head to go away. It’s not working. He grits his teeth in frustration.
He’s so fucking screwed.
___
Spring passes into summer when Sanemi returns to the mansion.
He’s just finished a long, exhausting mission— he had to be undercover for a few weeks, which is always so annoying. He’d rather just fight and get it over with, but the demon was a pesky one that would run at the first hint of danger, so Sanemi had to be careful.
And now, peacefully back at home, the sun shines brightly on the water in front of the mansion, sparkling like little crystals against the surface. The grass is as green as it will be all year. It’s hot out here, but Sanemi keeps his uniform buttons undone for times like these.
It’s a quiet day. A gentle breeze passes him by as he walks along, cooling the sweat settling on his skin. He’s tired, ready to sleep for the next few days before getting back to work. Maybe that’s why his guard slips.
Because of course, Giyuu Tomioka is here. He’s gripping his sword in tight fingers, his haori fluttering open in the wind. He’s swinging repeatedly, aiming at nothing but the air in front of him, but he manages to make it look like he’s dancing— it's a soft, serene movement, perfect for water breathing. He’s so focused, eyes sharp on his invisible target, lips curled in concentration. But it’s none of those things that really catch Sanemi’s eye.
His hair. His stupid, pretty hair. It swings with each movement, light and airy, shining like wet ink in the sunlight that pours over him. It’s barely grown since the last time Sanemi saw him, the ends just grazing the collar of his uniform. His little bangs fall across his face, waves of black, soft hair so distracting that Sanemi’s brain has turned on him entirely. He really can only stare.
Giyuu swings his sword again— water breathing, first form. His hair flows beautifully behind him, a sliver of his neck exposing itself to the sun in the process. Suddenly, Sanemi is very thirsty. Suddenly, he needs to get out of here, before he loses his sanity.
He turns to make a calm and collected run for it, and just as Sanemi has been unlucky recently, Giyuu chooses that moment to stop practicing. “Shinazugawa?”
Sanemi freezes. He turns around. “What do you want?”
Giyuu steps a little closer to him, sword dragging against the grass. Sanemi can see the way his hair sticks to his face, and almost as if he can read minds, Giyuu pushes it out of the way.
He needs to get out of here. Now.
“When did you return?” Giyuu asks softly. “I didn’t see you there.”
Sanemi frowns, trying not to look him in the eye. “Why do you care? You were too busy doing your stupid ass training.”
“Stupid?” Giyuu repeats, more to himself than Sanemi. His blue eyes blink, cerulean and bright with the sun shining in them.
Sanemi swallows. “Yes. Stupid. You have nothing to aim for.”
“Oh,” Giyuu says, tilting his head a bit. His hair falls to the side with the motion, and Sanemi tears his eyes away. “I just like to practice on my own sometimes.”
Sanemi doesn’t care. He’s never cared before and he’s not going to start now. And he really does not care, but Giyuu does the most horrible thing ever and pulls a hair tie off his wrist before reaching upward to collect his hair, wrapping it up in a small little bun. His bangs fall out, framing the planes of his face. Sanemi feels himself go dizzy.
“It’s hot,” Giyuu says. Sanemi agrees.
Sanemi takes a step back instead of responding. He’s too close. He might do something insane if he doesn’t move, like reach out and brush those bangs from Giyuu’s face, just so they can both see more clearly.
Fuck, he thinks to himself. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Do you want to spar with me?” Giyuu asks innocently, unaware of the war he’s started in Sanemi’s head.
Sanemi blinks himself back to life. He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Fuck no.”
Giyuu frowns ever so slightly, “Oh.”
“Stop talking to me,” Sanemi says far too quickly. “Go back over there and fight the fucking air.”
Giyuu exhales. Another gust of wind rushes by, blowing his bangs across his face. So pretty. Sanemi is terrified.
“Okay,” he says, voice quiet. “See you later, Shinazugawa.”
Sanemi rushes off before he can think anymore stupid thoughts. He needs a nap, badly.
___
It’s not until the tenth month that Sanemi finds himself back, this time at the Butterfly Mansion.
He’s in desperate need of Shinobu, since the scars littering his body have randomly started to hurt him again. He’s not sure what’s causing it— overuse of his body, too much time in the sun, or maybe this time of year reminds him too much of a past life. Either way, he needs her to help him so he can get back to slaying demons, and he needs her today.
The sun is setting as Sanemi steps up the mansion door, pushing his way through. He calls out to her, peaking his head in a few rooms and coming up empty handed. He makes his way to her office, but the door is slightly ajar already, which indicates she’s not hiding in there like normal— Shinobu hates working with her door open.
“Kocho?” Sanemi asks out loud again, walking deeper into the mansion. No answer. Under his breath, he mumbles, “Stupid insect.”
Suddenly, a butterfly girl rushes past him with a bucket in hand. His curiosity takes over, and he follows her, hoping that she’ll lead him to what he’s really looking for.
When she runs into the infirmary, Sanemi gets his answer. He feels heat collect in his face— what he’s really looking for, how naive. Shinobu is in here, but so is Giyuu Tomioka, laying in one of the beds, clearly unconscious. The girl leaves the bucket by Shinobu’s side and rushes off, and Sanemi is left standing in the doorway, watching.
Even from a distance, Sanemi can see that Giyuu is unwell. His cheeks are red, like he’s got a fever, but the rest of him is pale. His eyes are shut and he’s barely moving. Shinobu uses the bucket to wring out a towel before wiping down Giyuu’s forehead, and Sanemi blinks at the serene sight of them.
“Are you just going to stand there?” she finally asks. Sanemi’s eyes jump from Giyuu’s frame to her knowing, purple eyes.
Sanemi takes a few steps forward, till he’s at the foot of the bed. “The fuck happened to him?”
Shinobu just hums, “Tomioka was attacked by a blood demon art. He was helping a few other members of the corps and got himself poisoned. He’s running a pretty high fever.”
Sanemi rolls his eyes, “Fucking idiot.”
“You will be nice in my infirmary,” Shinobu scolds him, which makes him grit his teeth. He hates when she mothers him— she’s younger than him. “Did you need something?”
“Yes,” Sanemi says. “Obviously.”
Shinobu stands, “Great. Do this for me first and then I’ll help you.”
And then she hands him the towel. The towel that was previously occupying Giyuu Tomioka’s forehead is now laying in his hands. Sanemi blinks at her, dumbfounded, palms wet with water and what he’s sure is a bit of Giyuu’s sweat. Gross.
“I’m not helping him,” Sanemi laughs. What a ridiculous request.
Shinobu just huffs, “Then I’m not helping you.”
“You’re the doctor.”
“I’m not a doctor,” Shinobu says, clearing room for Sanemi to sit.
Sanemi throws his head back. “Why can’t one of your little girls do it?”
“They’re helping the other injured corps members,” she explains. She pats the chair with her hand. “I need to make him some medicine. You wouldn’t want the water pillar to die on us, would you?”
No. “Yes.”
“Sit. Now,” Shinobu says, voice clipped, and Sanemi’s legs move on their own until they’re in front of the chair. He forces himself down, now to the side of Giyuu. Shinobu smiles at him. “I’ll be right back.”
She leaves, her haori fluttering behind her, and Sanemi is left in the quiet room with a sleeping Giyuu. He groans, dipping the towel in the bucket before wringing it out. He sets it on Giyuu’s forehead, leans on his elbows, and waits.
And without meaning to, he stares. There’s nothing better to do in this stupid infirmary, or maybe there is and his brain has decided to betray him once more. From this angle, Sanemi is closer to Giyuu than he has ever been, so close that he can see the light dusting of freckles that gather across the bridge of his perfectly sculpted nose, constellations so faint only someone near him could connect. His cheeks are like roses, sick and flushed, and Sanemi finds himself wondering what a blush like this would look like on Giyuu in another form— a dangerous, encompassing thought pattern.
His hair is matted against his face and his neck, curling at the ends from the humidity and the sweat pooling on his forehead. It’s messy, like he was dragged in here, and something twitches inside Sanemi. He’s not fond of it like this. His fingers shake softly, a strong need to fix it overcomes him, and it’s so fast and powerful that it drowns him all at once.
He reaches up slowly, as if Giyuu will wake in this state, not wanting to be caught. The pads of his fingers gently touch Giyuu’s hair for the first time, and the world tilts on its axis— despite the dampness, it is still so soft. It is fine, not as thick as he thought it would be, and he gently cards his hand through it to get all the knots out.
In his sleep, Giyuu turns his head a bit. It doesn’t make Sanemi stop— he takes a pause before continuing. Soft strokes, soft touches through Giyuu’s pretty hair, tender as he plays with it. He gathers it out of his face, letting it fan out on his pillow instead, and Giyuu looks so peaceful that Sanemi finds himself relaxing.
It becomes an absentminded way to pass the time, his thick fingers making their way through Giyuu’s hair, over and over again. Sanemi likes it. He likes touching Giyuu like this. It’s the only chance he’ll ever get to do it— he doesn’t have Muichiro’s special permissions— so he takes full advantage. It lulls him into a strange sense of security, like maybe they will be okay someday, like Sanemi can be much more than angry at everything.
“Mmn,” Giyuu softly whines, and Sanemi freezes, hands still in his hair. Blue eyes slowly blink up at him, half-lidded and hazy, clearly not all there. Giyuu’s words slur, his tongue heavy, his mind not awake at all. “Shinazugawa?”
Sanemi exhales. He lets his hands continue. Stupid Giyuu won’t remember this anyway. “Close your eyes, idiot. You’re okay.”
Giyuu doesn’t argue, doesn’t say another word. He just closes his eyes like a content little creature and lets Sanemi’s fingers lure him back into the world of sleep. It’s kind of a beautiful thing to see, and makes Sanemi’s heart race with the idea that Giyuu could trust him enough to rest in his presence. Sanemi doesn’t think he makes that very easy.
And wanting to see Giyuu content, and loving his hair more than he should, Sanemi continues. He stares at Giyuu’s face, switching out the washcloth every so often, but not really minding. He curls a strand of onyx around his finger, humming softly.
“I’m ready. Let me just—” Shinobu steps back into the room with no warning. Sanemi’s eyes go wide as he pulls his hands back. “Oh? What’s this?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Sanemi says, standing abruptly. He keeps his voice low though, so Giyuu doesn’t wake again. He walks past Shinobu, shoulder checking her. “I’m waiting in your office.”
Shinobu gives him a knowing look as she settles next to Giyuu, a bottle in hand. “Sure thing, Shinazugawa.”
He rushes out of the infirmary without looking back.
If that stupid butterfly says anything, he’s gonna kill her.
___
The distinct sound of rain hits the roof of the Wind Estate.
Sanemi sits in the center of his room, legs crossed, eyes closed. Meditation has always been a nice way for him to wind down after a day of hard training, and since it’s pouring outside, no one can disturb him like this. He takes a deep breath in through his nose before exhaling out of his mouth. He repeats the action, again and again, feeling the tension leave his body slowly, like the water that gently trickles down his window panes.
And then, a hard knock on his door pulls him from his relaxed state. His eyes shoot open as he growls, immediately pissed off at the interruption.
He stomps to his front door, ripping it open. The sound of rain gets distinctly louder. “What the fuck do you want?”
Blue eyes blink at him. “Hi.”
“Tomioka?” Sanemi says, voice getting a little too soft for his liking. Giyuu is dripping wet, hair dark and sticky on his skin, the colors of his haori more muted as it collects water. He looks Giyuu up and down, frowning. “What the fuck are you doing here? It’s fucking pouring.”
“I know. I’m not afraid of the water,” Giyuu says slowly, like it’s obvious. Sanemi rolls his eyes. “I brought you something.”
And fuck, Sanemi wants to turn him away, but it’s coming down hard now, and the small, empathetic part of himself would feel bad. He’s going insane— he never feels bad. But still, he finds himself opening his door a little wider, exhaling, “Come in.”
Giyuu’s eyes widen like he’s not expecting it, and honestly, Sanemi isn’t either. He keeps surprising himself with all these new things he keeps doing, and it's all Giyuu’s fault. He watches as Giyuu steps inside, dripping water on his hardwood floor as Sanemi shuts the door behind him.
Giyuu turns to him and pulls out a big pouch. He holds it out to Sanemi. “For you.”
Sanemi just blinks at him. “Uh. Why?”
“I wanted to thank you,” Giyuu says. “You know, for helping me at the Butterfly Mansion.”
Sanemi’s eyes widen in horror. How? He clears his throat to keep his composure. “You remember that? You were stupidly out of it.”
Giyuu’s mouth twists, like he’s embarrassed. “Kocho told me.”
Sanemi feels the veins pop in his neck. He’s going to kill that stupid butterfly.
“I heard you liked them,” Giyuu adds, gesturing to the bag. He’s shivering, obviously a bit cold from being wet. “If you don’t, I can take them back and—”
Sanemi just grabs his wrist with his freehand and pulls him further inside, dragging him down the hall to where his bathroom is. He shoves Giyuu inside. “Take a shower. I’ll bring you clothes.”
Giyuu’s eyes are wide. “Are you sure?”
“You’re shaking like a fucking leaf,” Sanemi says. “You’re dripping all over the place. I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”
Excuses, excuses. Sanemi slams the door closed.
He spends the next half hour cleaning the floors, the spray of his shower accompanying the patter of rain outside. He can’t wrap his brain around the idea that Giyuu Tomioka, his sworn rival, is naked in his bathroom. It makes his stomach hurt. The bag he gave him is sitting in the middle of the floor, since Sanemi thought it would be rude to open it without Giyuu present, but it’s kind of heavy, filled to the brim with whatever is inside. He leaves Giyuu some spare clothes by the door along with a pair of slippers before waiting in his room for the other to be done.
He opens his eyes when he hears the click of the bathroom door. Giyuu trudges out, and Sanemi feels his breath caught in his throat— his clothes are far too big on Giyuu’s slimmer frame, despite them being the same height, and his hair is still wet and stringy as it curls down the sides of his face. He looks so incredibly cozy, so cute in a way that makes Sanemi want to reach out and touch him. Fuck.
Giyuu gives him a faint smile as he sits across from Sanemi. “Thank you. I feel much warmer now.”
“Whatever,” Sanemi says in a gravely tone. Giyuu has a towel in his hands, and he’s using it to gently squeeze the water out of his hair. For the first time in his life, Sanemi wants to be a towel.
Giyuu’s eyes travel downward to the bag. “You didn’t open it?”
Sanemi shakes his head. “Not yet. What is it, anyway?”
“Look,” Giyuu offers. Sanemi pulls the strings of the bag open, and a familiar scent hits his nose.
He pulls a ball out. “Ohagi? What the fuck?”
Giyuu's eyes are frantically searching his face. “Did I mess up?”
“Fuck.” Sanemi is so screwed. “They’re so ugly.”
Giyuu frowns, “I tried my best. I’m not really the best—”
“It’s fine,” Sanemi cuts him off. He sinks his teeth into one, and his favorite taste hits his tongue. Giyuu is waiting expectantly. He looks deep into those blue eyes. He’s being way too nice, but he can’t help it— Giyuu makes him want to be better. “It’s good.”
Giyuu exhales. “That’s good. I can’t really cook.”
“I didn’t think you could,” Sanemi says, snorting as he finishes his piece off. He holds the bag out to Giyuu. “Take one.”
Giyuu blinks at him, the towel he was holding dropping in his lap. His hair is wavy, a little more dry now, soft looking. He’s so soft-looking, with Sanemi’s shirt dipping off his shoulder in a way that makes Sanemi hungry for something other than ohagi. He has no idea the effect he’s having.
He reaches forward and takes one, plopping it into his mouth whole. Sanemi takes another one. They eat in silence.
And they sit in silence until the rain stops, when Giyuu takes his wet clothes and leaves with a thankful nod. But the silence is kind of nice— Giyuu is nice when he’s not talking, when he’s sitting in Sanemi’s room in his clothes, with his pretty face and pretty hair. Sanemi is pretty damn sure he’s lost his mind entirely.
Especially because the moment Giyuu leaves, the estate feels so cold, so quiet in his wake.
Yeah. Sanemi has lost it.
___
Sanemi is running.
His crow is leading him through the thickness of the forest. He weaves through the trees, the moon above his only source of light. He’s got his hand on his sword, ready to pull it out at the first sighting of a demon. That’s what he’s here for, after all. To kill the bastard and move on to the next one.
When his crow circles above, he knows he’s close. The real indicator is the sound of metal slashing, and he rushes a little deeper in until he spots it— a demon, ugly and volatile, fighting with Giyuu Tomioka.
His first thought is why is this guy always around him? His second thought is absolutely nothing. He loses all the thoughts he was having because Giyuu looks insanely gorgeous like this, fighting for his life. His movements are graceful as he swings his sword like it weighs nothing, his skin a pure reflection of the moonlight, his hair fluttering in the wind, wild and carefree as he fights.
When Giyuu lands next to him, his face is dead, calm, beautiful. He looks at Sanemi. “You’re here. Are you just going to stand here?”
“Fuck no,” Sanemi says, snapping himself out of his haze and rushing forward with Giyuu right behind him.
It is an unfair fight with the two of them against this measly demon. Sanemi fears nothing, and Giyuu lets nothing faze him. Giyuu moves with elegance, and Sanemi moves with brute force. They are so opposite that they work perfectly together, and it doesn’t take long before Sanemi is cutting the head off the demon, watching it fly into the distance.
It starts to disintegrate before his eyes. He turns to Giyuu. “Why the fuck did that take you so long?”
Giyuu is wiping his blade off. “He was slippery. We had a better chance because you could cover his blind spots."
“You’re welcome,” Sanemi says, flicking the blood of his sword before shoving it back in its holster.
“You must've run here quite fast,” Giyuu points out for no reason. He brushes his hair out of his face, and Sanemi exhales. “Do you want to find an inn for the night? It’s too late to go all the way back to the mansion.”
An inn sounds like a horrible idea, because that means Sanemi will be boxed in a room with Giyuu for an entire night, no escaping. Giyuu, with his stupid hair and his stupid face and his stupid nonchalantness. Sanemi is going to die.
But his mouth moves before his brain has time to reactivate itself, “Sure.”
He lets Giyuu lead, since he’s been in this area longer than he has. He keeps an eye on the way Giyuu’s hair moves as he walks, the way he hums with every step he takes, so soft it can barely be heard. When they finally make it into town, they manage to find a small inn with a room left for them to share.
Thankfully, it has two beds, otherwise Sanemi really would’ve lost it. He offers Giyuu the bathroom first, sitting on the edge of the bed he claimed for himself. His leg bounces as he waits, needing this night to be over before Sanemi does something stupid.
Because he knows. He knows he finds Giyuu Tomioka to be strikingly beautiful. He knows he’s close to losing his resistance. Giyuu has somehow forced his way into Sanemi’s life, too many times for it to be a coincidence. Sanemi is not one to believe in fate, but this is the soul's work. It is beyond his comprehension, beyond his control. He doesn’t hate Giyuu, not one bit.
When the bathroom door slides open, Giyuu is wearing a pair of pants and nothing else. His hair is wet and inky, spilling over his shoulders. He’s dripping everywhere, down his lithe shoulders, down his chest, down past his ribs and his abs to the waistband of the only bit of clothing he’s decided to wear. His skin looks tender, so pale, no scars or blemishes ruining what Sanemi can only describe as art. Giyuu needs to be framed and tucked in a gallery, just for Sanemi to see.
Sanemi stands. Giyuu locks eyes with him. “It’s open. There should be enough hot water left.”
Sanemi steps forward. “Okay.”
“I forgot my shirt in my bag,” Giyuu says, blushing a little.
“Okay,” Sanemi says again. Big eyes blink at him, and something snaps. “Since when do you talk so fucking much?”
Giyuu bites his bottom lip, plush and plump and oh, he’s done for now. “You make me nervous.”
Oh, Sanemi has to have him. “Tomioka.”
Giyuu looks at him. His bangs fall down his cheeks. “Yes?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he says before he leans forward, connecting their lips.
Giyuu makes a pretty little sound from the back of his throat, but it doesn’t deter Sanemi from pressing him against the wall, kissing him with a hunger he’s fought off for far too long. One of his hands comes up to grip Giyuu’s hair, holding it tight in his fingers as their mouths move together. The other pets at the slim muscle of Giyuu’s waist, feeling him in a way Sanemi has never been able to before.
Giyuu is not the best kisser, but Sanemi isn’t making it easy for him. He’s kissing Giyuu with passion, fire, fast and hard and needy because Sanemi needs it. He whimpers into Sanemi’s mouth, hands pressed against Sanemi’s chest as he chases Sanemi’s lips with his own as best as he can. Even if Giyuu can’t keep up, it is the most perfect kiss he’s ever had.
Giyuu is like porcelain, but Sanemi doesn’t care about breaking him. He wants to see Giyuu messy, squirming, a disaster for Sanemi to take apart and put back together. He wants Giyuu so badly he can barely breathe. He can barely breathe because he’s finally kissing Giyuu. The world falls away as he licks into his mouth, their tongues meeting like two swords in a soft battle. He tastes so sweet, he sounds so beautiful, and Sanemi needs more.
He pulls back, exhaling against Giyuu’s lips, “Your hair is so beautiful.”
Giyuu’s eyes are still closed, and they flutter open like he’s been in a trance. “What?”
“Your hair,” Sanemi says, his fingers running through wet locks. “It’s so beautiful. And your eyes. And your face. I want you so badly.”
Giyuu’s head leans back against the wall. His fingers curl into Sanemi’s uniform. “So have me. I’ve been waiting.”
It is out of character for Sanemi to do what he’s told, but this request is so simple— he leans in and kisses Giyuu again, his arms dropping to Giyuu’s thighs to pick him up and carry him to bed. He deposits him, lips never parting because Sanemi could not bear it, not even when Sanemi’s hands run their course across every plane on Giyuu’s body, even when Sanemi’s lungs burn for air. It’s unimportant, unhurried— Giyuu is far more special than oxygen.
There is a quiet intimacy between them, when Sanemi kisses and nips at the pale skin of Giyuu’s neck, when Giyuu pushes Sanemi’s haori off his shoulders and onto the floor. Their other clothes follow, until they are two warm bodies pressed against each other— Sanemi can feel him everywhere.
Sanemi takes them both in hand and watches Giyuu crumble, and it is everything he’s ever wanted. He is beautiful, pretty noises and a prettier blush that creeps its way down his chest. Sanemi keeps his pace even, his grip tight as he works them together, as he kisses the sounds from Giyuu’s mouth, as he whispers his name into the darkness.
Giyuu, the only thing on his mind when they both tip over the edge, hot and panting and so satisfied. Giyuu, Giyuu, Giyuu.
“Sanemi,” Giyuu says softly, catching his breath. Sanemi buries his face in his neck, kissing behind his ear as his palm rubs soft circles in his hair. Giyuu turns his head, so that they’re face to face, so that their noses brush sweetly. “I just showered. I’m all dirty again.”
“I’ll do all the work, idiot,” Sanemi says, sitting up. He takes Giyuu with him, lifting him and carrying him into the bathroom. He sets him down in the shower and turns the water to hot before stepping inside himself.
The water cascades down Giyuu, solidifying himself as the water pillar. It smoothly runs down his body in a way that makes Sanemi unable to look away. It drips through his hair, down his arms, rushes past the marks Sanemi left on him— his once perfect skin isn’t so perfect anymore. Sanemi thinks he looks even prettier like this.
Sanemi steps behind him and reaches for the shampoo. Giyuu simply leans his head back and allows Sanemi to run his hands through his hair, lathering him up, taking his time. He lets the water clean the soap out, his nose meeting the top of Giyuu’s hair— he smells so sweet, like honey and fruit, and Sanemi wants to taste him all over again.
Giyuu hums softly, leaning against him. Sanemi kisses his cheek. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
Giyuu looks at him and smiles, “That you liked my hair.”
Sanemi frowns, “What?”
“You’re always staring at it,” Giyuu says teasingly. Sanemi wraps his arms around Giyuu’s waist, and Giyuu’s hands come up to join them.
Sanemi groans, burying his face in Giyuu’s neck. “Fuck off.”
Giyuu laughs, and it’s the first time he’s ever heard such a noise leave those pretty lips. Sanemi commits it to memory. “It’s okay. I like you.”
“I fucking like you too,” Sanemi says softly. His nose brushes against Giyuu’s jaw. “Idiot.”
When the water goes cold, they get out. Sanemi dries them both off before throwing Giyuu’s clothes at him. Once they’re all warm and cozy, Sanemi takes a seat behind him on the bed and begins brushing out his hair. It feels like a dream, he feels undeserving of this, as Giyuu slowly makes his way onto Sanemi’s lap, his weight solid and mellow.
“Feels good,” Giyuu says. He sounds sleepy.
Sanemi snorts, “Don’t fall asleep on me.”
He begins braiding Giyuu’s hair— it’s a short braid, since Giyuu’s hair isn’t very long, but it’ll be easier to sleep on wet, and it’ll be pretty in the morning when Sanemi pulls it out for him. Giyuu hums softly. “You can braid.”
“Yes,” Sanemi says, finishing it off with a tie. “My mother taught me.”
Giyuu reaches behind his head to feel Sanemi’s work, and then he turns to place a soft kiss on Sanemi’s lips. “Thank you.”
So pretty, Sanemi thinks to himself as they lay down to sleep. All mine.
Giyuu curls into a ball, and Sanemi wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. He kisses the top of Giyuu’s head.
He doesn’t remember falling asleep. He just feels the warmth Giyuu provides, and knows he doesn’t ever want to let go.
___
Sanemi is standing in his normal spot, the other Hashira piling into the meeting room behind him. This meeting is inconvenient— he was having a wonderful morning before he remembered they were supposed to gather today.
Obanai stands behind him, snake in tow. Sanemi feels his skin crawl as he leans forward. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Shinazugawa. How have you been?”
So incredibly wonderful, Sanemi thinks to himself. He keeps his face neutral as he turns his head. “Fine.”
“He’s late,” Obanai points out. Sanemi knows. “When will the Master reprimand him for such insolence?"
Sanemi shrugs his shoulders. Honestly, this time shouldn’t be blamed on Giyuu alone— he left Giyuu this morning, cuddled up in his bed, telling him to leave a few minutes after Sanemi so they wouldn’t be caught together. It’s not even that he’s embarrassed to be with him. He wants to be with him. The others will just never let him live it down, and Sanemi doesn't want to deal with them.
Right on cue, Giyuu walks into the room. His haori is wrinkled and his eyes are half-lidded, but that’s not all that catches Sanemi’s eye— his hair is braided back, besides a few wispy pieces that fall in front of his face. Sanemi has the immediate urge to fix it, since Giyuu has decided to destroy his handywork, but he holds his fists at his sides instead.
Mitsuri’s eyes shine. “Tomioka! Your hair looks so cute like this!”
“I’m going to kill him,” Obanai whispers. Sanemi snorts.
“I like it too!” Kyujuro says far too loudly. “I didn’t know you could braid?”
Tengen, always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, grins, “He totally can’t. Who did that for you? Looks flashy.”
“Oh, you’re right,” Giyuu says. He brushes a piece of hair behind his ear, and Sanemi exhales, seeing his pretty face more clearly now. He smiles softly to himself, “My boyfriend did it for me. He’s very good with my hair.”
It’s subtle enough, lacking any specifics or details. It should be fine to say. Giyuu could be dating anyone in the world, not that Sanemi would want him to, but it doesn't incriminate him. Sanemi should be in the clear, so it doesn’t make sense— everyone in the room turns to look at him at the exact same time.
Sanemi’s eyes narrow. He hopes he isn’t blushing. “What are you all looking at?”
Shinobu smirks, “You’re not exactly subtle.”
Obanai looks absolutely horrified. “You’re dating Tomioka?”
“What the fuck makes you think that?” Sanemi asks, body tense.
Muichiro just blinks, toying with the end of Giyuu’s braid. “You’re always staring at him and talking about him. It’s pretty obvious.”
“I’m happy for you, Shinazugawa!” Kyujuro says, breaking his eardrum as he slaps Sanemi on the back. He grins, “Do you think you could braid mine next?”
Tengen laughs, joining in, “No, no. Me first. I want to be braided by the expert over here.”
“Oh, braid mine too, Shinazugawa!” Mitsuri squeals out, which earns him a death stare from Obanai. He steps back in case the snake decides to strike.
“Fuck off, all of you,” he finally yells out, silencing the room. “None of you have pretty hair like Giyuu does, so I’m not touching any of you! Now drop it.”
The room stays quiet for a moment. Sanemi feels heat rising in his face.
“Oh, it’s Giyuu now,” Tengen hums, gushing
He’s not even safe from Gyomei. The large man claps his hands together, humming, “Sanemi’s so soft for his boyfriend.”
Sanemi rolls his eyes. This is exactly why he didn’t want them to know. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away from all of them. Stupid idiots can’t leave him alone.
Giyuu steps closer to him in the chaos, leaning against him slightly. He smiles up at him, like Sanemi is the sun. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Sanemi says softly. He reaches out and tugs on Giyuu’s braid. “You messed up your hair.”
Giyuu pouts, “Sorry. I got distracted on my walk so I had to run here.”
“Whatever,” Sanemi says, not able to stay mad at him for long.
“By the way,” Giyuu says softly, the back of his hand brushing Sanemi’s. He wishes he could leave this stupid meeting and hold him closer than ever. “I think you’re pretty too.”
Sanemi can only roll his eyes. “You’re the worst.”
Giyuu laughs softly. “You don’t mean that.”
He manages a smile of his own, brushing a strand away from Giyuu’s pretty face.
“Not one bit.”