A/N Cheers to my first Inotan fic! Thanks for reading!
It's a quiet night at the Wisteria House. Zenitsu is off chasing the girls, Inosuke is raiding the kitchen, and Tanjiro…
"Mm, mmm!" Nezuko insists, pushing something into Tanjiro's hand. He sighs, peering down at it, then back up at her with a smile and a nod.
And Tanjiro—Tanjiro is running a brush through his sister's hair.
It's something he's always enjoyed. The sense of caring for someone you cherish or being cared for by them. It's calming; and Tanjiro loves the chilly days spent by the fire, leaning into his mother's side as she stroked his hair and sang him lullabies. Although she is here no longer, Tanjiro vows to do the same for Nezuko. There is no need for another lonely being.
Nezuko is smiling through her muzzle, her eyes closed in contentment, when the door bursts open. Inosuke barrels through the doorway, licking the remnants of tonight's tempura off his fingers. Startled, Tanjiro stops mid-stroke, the brush only halfway through Nezuko's thick, dark locks.
"What're you doing?" he frowns, pointing to Nezuko.
"What do you mean?" Tanjiro asks.
"That," he points again, fiercer this time. "Why are you rubbing wood on the demon girl's head?"
"Wood…? Oh," Tanjiro looks to his hand. "It's called a brush—I'm brushing Nezuko's hair for her."
Inosuke doesn't understand. What the hell is that supposed to do? How does scrubbing your head with a tree do you any good?
"Why?" he asks, taking a seat on his futon.
Tanjiro's face spells surprise and confusion, "You've never brushed your hair?"
Inosuke scoffs, "Why would I do that? My hair's fine just the way it is."
Tanjiro sighs, "That's not the point. It's soothing, and it keeps your hair from getting knotted." He takes the brush out of Nezuko's hair—letting her bounce away towards her own room—and pats the ground next to him, "Come here."
Inosuke obliges, although warily. He still doesn't trust this brush thing. But Tanjiro only smiles—the soft, kind smile that makes Inosuke feel like he's floating. Now they sit knee-to-knee, faces barely a foot away. Inosuke watches him, waiting for him to begin. It takes a few seconds of silent staring before Tanjiro laughs, reaching out to pull the boar mask from Inosuke's head. He feels naked, and he doesn't appreciate it.
"I can't brush your hair if I can't see it!" he said, placing the mask in Inosuke's lap.
Well, if it's Tanjiro, he can deal with it.
"Inosuke, can you turn around please?" the red-haired boy asks, tapping the other boy on the knee. He nods, turning until his back is flush against Tanjiro's legs. "That's better."
Inosuke finds himself thanking the old hag for forcing him in the bath. At least his hair is clean. His brows furrowed at the thought. Huh. Why does that matter now?
Unfortunately, Inosuke doesn't have much time to think about it before Tanjiro squeezes his shoulder, "I'm going to start now, okay?"
Then Tanjiro's fingers are in his hair—smoothing the fine locks as he brushes—and Inosuke shudders. It's… nice. Very nice. Inosuke can't help but lean into the touch, seeking the warm hands caressing his tresses. Something hot pricks the corners of his eyes, and he blinks. This feeling is familiar; so familiar that it hurts; yet locked away in a distant corner of his memory, unable to emerge.
"You have beautiful hair, Inosuke. It's so soft."
And then Tanjiro is smiling again, and Inosuke's heart sputters like a flame in the wind. His face is burning, and he has the sudden urge to pull his boar mask right back over his head; but that would mean Tanjiro's hands coming out of his hair, and Inosuke doesn't think he can handle that yet.
So he compensates with volume.
"Of course it's soft, Monjiro! I'm the best at everything!"
"Yeah," Tanjiro's smile is fond, "You are."
Inosuke goes silent at that, and Tanjiro doesn't press him. The brush continues to run through his locks long after all knots have disappeared. Maybe it isn't so bad. Maybe they could do this again.
They sit like that for a while—Tanjiro humming a quiet tune as he strokes the other boy's hair. Inosuke's eyelids are heavy; and he can feel himself nodding off. They rest like that until Inosuke slumps into Tanjiro's lap, breathing deeply in slumber. Tanjiro lets him, setting the brush down and tangling his fingers once again in the other's hair. He allows himself to rest his eyes for a moment; but soon, he too succumbs to the promise of sleep.
If Zenitsu saw them the next morning—Tanjiro's arms gently wrapping around the boar's waist as they slept—he wouldn't say anything.
A/N I can't with these two. They're so soft. XD Please leave a review if you're able!