Work Text:
Tanjiro still gets nightmares, even all these years later. They come cold and harsh - vibrant, vicious images of blood and death and everything he feared.
Sometimes he only wakes to silent tears and nausea gripping his stomach. He lays there in the dark, listening to Kyojuro snoring next to him, letting the tears free fall to the pillow as he calms his breathing. It's been years, he knows, and he's safe. Even his arm doesn't ache anymore, for all its limp uselessness at his side.
But sometimes...
Sometimes they are brutal.
Usually, these are the nightmares of his family, or worse, Kyojuro. Time had healed many things, but the gaping hole in Kyojuro's chest never faded from his mind. Nor did the sensation of desperately pressing hands to it, so soaked in blood it couldn't have possibly all come from him--
Or Kyojuro, holding him down as Muzan's blood took hold of his body. Kyojuro with his throat ripped open, teeth and claws in his flesh. There were scars there too, scars which Tanjiro was diligent to kiss and remind himself that Kyojuro was alive, he hadn't managed to kill him.
But of course his nightmares never listened to such logic. He saw himself eating him. He saw Kyojuro in pieces under his hands. Or Kyojuro's bright red blade, piercing through his heart to hold him down as the sun hit him--
He wakes, screaming. Sobbing. He gasps and thrashes in their futon, gripping his chest, grasping at Kyojuro. There's no blood, but the sensation is so raw and real, and he cannot calm. The panic attack grips his heart and all he can hear is static and his own wails.
Kyojuro wakes quickly, of course. He grabs Tanjiro, pulling him tight against him so he won't thrash. Speaks calmly, in that rumbling voice, I'm here.
It's okay.
I'm here.
I'm right here, I love you.
Listen to my voice--
Tanjiro gasps for air and chokes on his tears. What if it's not real? And he's not here? All this pain, surely, it cannot be for nothing?
Kyojuro knows him well, though - better almost than himself. He does not ask before he pulls Tanjiro's robes open. He holds him down as he bites into his neck and shoulders hard enough to draw blood, so Tanjiro might feel the sting. It's tethering. Grounding. He can breathe again. And it allows him to feel properly as Kyojuro pushes inside of him, holding him firm and tight. He thrusts into him and it hurts, because he didn't prepare him, but they've done this many times before, and he's learned that Tanjiro needs this. It doesn't hurt for long. It's soothing to feel him; his weight is a comfort that Tanjiro doesn't take for granted.
It doesn't take long for sobs to turn to moans. He clings to Kyojuro tightly, gasping his name, I love you, Kyojuro, I love you, and Kyojuro responds in kind.
He's calm when it's done, gasping from pleasure and burying his face into Kyojuro's broad, warm chest. He feels his husband's hands curling into his hair.
I'll never leave you, Tanjiro. I love you.
The images are faded again, for another night.
Tanjiro can believe him.