Hairo x Kyojuro College AU: Commission
Hairo x Kyojuro from Demon Slayer
Details: Like I'm fine with anything fluffy and au or Canon events are ok 👍. I just need hairo being an irresistible husband and kyojuro just can't resist 😭💖
Though he would never say it, it was humiliating how hard Hairo fell for Kyojuro.
When he signed up to be campus policy, he had thought that he would be able to use his position to help people. It was what he had spent his entire life doing, until the incident. Now, he knew that he would never be able to go back to a regular police force, and he would never be able to hold a gun without imagining blowing someone away with it. The same way he nearly had been. That’s what made the campus police perfect. He didn’t have to carry a gun. A taser. A batoon (close enough to a sword, right?).
“Hairo! You’re out early tonight,” Kyojuro smiled when he saw him making his way towards him.
“You remember my name?” Hairo smirked. His upper lip pulling to show off a row of razor sharp teeth. Kyojuro’s eyes narrowed, his smile warbling. Not into a frown, but into a softer expression. Hairo caught the sight, but assumed he misinterpreted it. Kyojuro was a well respected, polite, kind, young man that everyone orbited around. There was no way that an expression like that from him was directed at a washed up former cop still playing at the dream.
“Of course I do,” Kyojuro smiled brighter at him this time. “You’re out here every night. It would be rude of me not to.”
“Yeah yeah,” Hairo snorted, waving him off. His face flushed slightly.
“Well, I’ll see you next time,” Kyojuro said as he started to walk.
“Why aren’t you walking with your friends?” Hairo asked, flicking up the brim of his hat to better look at Kyojuro.
“They’re busy and I don’t want to ask them again. It’s fine. I can walk by myself,” he said, basically beaming. As always. Hairo had heard of that. That Kyojuro was always smiling. Always happy. Always strong. What would it be like to be around someone like that even for just a few hours a day? As much as he hated to admit it, even these few minutes of interaction a few nights a week had begun to have an affect on him.
“Alright, then you better get going,” Hairo said, inclining his head.
For the next few weeks, Hairo noticed that Kyojuro was walking home by himself every night after his night classes. The idea of anything happening to him made his stomach knot, though he never let it show on his face. To everyone else, he still had a face that would kill if looks alone could. Inside, he was whirling. What if something happened to Kyojuro?
So, he switched shifts. Now he was getting off just before Kyojuro’s last class got out. That way, he still had an excuse to be on the campus without it looking weird until Kyojuro got out. Then, he would hang a bit back, following him to make sure he got back to his apartment okay. He lived off campus, so he told himself that he was still doing his job. It had nothing to do with the bright eyed, warm faced college student.
Kyojuro knew full well that Hairo was following him, though he never said anything. Every night that he followed him confirmed that he was really just a misunderstood sweetheart. Clearly, if he went out of his way to check on him, he must care as much as he did. So, Kyojuro would linger when he didn’t see his guard dog. Knowing he would show up eventually. Hairo acted like he didn’t notice when he started walking up to him, telling him in that chirpy voice that his classes were done.
“All done for the night,” he said as he walked up to where Hairo was leaning against a lamppost, fingering the button on his taser holster.
“Alright. What’s it got to do with me?” he muttered, though he was already pushing off the post, the brim of his hat covering his eyes so he didn’t have to look right at him.
“Nothing if you don’t want it to,” Kyojuro smiled, his eyebrows raised slightly, as if in invitation.
Hairo huffed, not saying anything as he walked over to him. His dark eyes search Kyojuro’s lighter ones. Neither said anything this time as he walked with him to his apartment. Lingering a few steps behind, as if trying to keep up the facade that he wasn’t the reason he was going down that way.
“Are you going to come up?” Kyojuro asked, pausing at the base of his stairs.
“What?” Hairo stopped, flicking up the brim of his hat to look up at him. Searching his face as if for any sign of deception. Of taunting.
“You can come up. You walked all the way from the campus. You must be thirsty. Come have a drink,” he said, running a finger through his blonde and red hair.
Suddenly, he was parched. His mouth was dry and sticky. As if all the saliva had been sucked out. Once. Twice. He tried to swallow but couldn’t.
“Fine,” he muttered, adjusting the hat on his head.
Once inside, Kyojuro went off to go get the promised drinks. Hairo lingered by the doorway. Surprised. His heart pounding so hard that he could feel the thrumming in his fingertips. What an annoyance. To be so infatuated with someone that he would normally hardly look at. It was a quiet kind of devotion that curled in his chest.
It became a routine. Three times a week, he would walk him home. Come inside. Take a drink. Go home. Eventually, it changed just slightly.
“Here, I can tell you didn’t eat. You look pale,” Kyojuro said. That same bright smile as always on his face as he held out a protein bar.
Something painful twisted in Hairo’s chest. That was the real tipping point. After that, he was hanging around, waiting to walk Kyojuro to his classes from his apartment after that. Doing small things like starting to sit when he drank when he walked home with him. Bringing a coffee in the mornings. Reminding him when he had a test coming up (because of course Kyojuro told him during one of their walks home). All small things. Showing him that while his devotion was quiet, it wasn’t silent.
Kyojuro, naturally, saw every damn thing. Every action of love. Every proof of gentleness behind the cold facade. Not everyone loves loudly. He knew that. He didn’t need that. All he needed was the same unwavering devotion that he was willing to give. And Hairo, he could tell, was already giving it.
“Are you hungry?” he asked while walking home. Hairo still lingering a few steps behind.
“So?” Hairo gruffed, a lazy hand on his taser.
“So, I make a lot. I have extra all the time. You should stay and help me eat it,” Kyojuro said as he turned to look at him over his shoulder.
Burning, red hot heat flushed Hairo’s face in less than two seconds. Luckily he had the brim of his hat tilted down to try to hide some of it. “If it helps you, I guess I can do you a favor,” he finally muttered.
It was domestic. And way easier than Hairo had expected. For some reason though, after that, he felt the overwhelming need to do it back. To show Kyojuro that he could be domestic. That he could be more than just scary.
“My apartment is closer. It’s going to rain. Maybe we should go there,” Hairo huffed out one day when he saw Kyojuro walking towards him after class.
He looked up at the sky. While dark, the stars were twinkling. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. Oh, so he just can’t admit that he wants me to come over. He needs an excuse he thought to himself. He smiled.
“Alright. Thank you for worrying about me.”
Hairo mumbled something Kyojuro couldn’t hear, but he followed him as he started walking. Like every other time, Kyojuro was chatting endlessly to fill the void of silence left in Hairo’s flustered state. Though he didn’t notice the way that he kept glancing at him. The way his eyes lingered on the curve of Kyojuro’s lips. The way that he had slowed down so he was walking beside him. Not expecting or wanting him to linger behind the way he had him.
“There’s a spare bedroom. You can sleep there,” Hairo muttered as he unlocked the door.
“Thanks,” he said, following him inside.
That was when he knew that despite Hairo’s terrifying appearance, he was all mush under it. A dinner clearly meant for two had been laid out on a table. Everything painstakingly arranged to look like it had been set up for a magazine shoot. Picture picture. Still warm. The smells drifting towards him the moment the door opened. Drool pooling in his mouth as he looked at the spread, then back to Hairo, who was fidgeting with his hat again.
“You cooked for me. Only felt fair,” he said, scratching along his jaw.
As Kyojuro sat down to eat, he kept looking at Hairo. Who was watching him with a burning intensity that actually brought a flush to his cheeks. He liked him. He did. He was just shy.
“Umai!” Kyojuro exclaimed as he pushed the chopsticks into his mouth.
Hairo’s lips twitched into a smile. “You like it then?”
The blonde nodded, eating maybe a little faster than necessary now, but eager to taste all the flavors laid before him. When dinner was done, he tried to help clean up, but Hairo brushed him off.
“This is my home. Go sit. You’re a guest.”
“And let you do all the cleaning after you did all the cooking? You’re the host. Let me show you I appreciate it.”
A long, unsure silence stretched before them. Hairo nodded curtly. “Fine.”
Another scene so domestic that it left Hairo reeling, while only continuing to prove to Kyojuro that whatever this was, was real. That Hairo felt as strongly about him as he did for him.
That night, he did sleep in the spare bedroom, even though there was no rain. There was no rain the next week either, when Hairo said that he had heard it would thunderstorm so Kyojuro should stay at his again. No car accident when Hairo claimed that he heard crashing. Each visit was paired with another lavish spread that only proved he had been intending for Kyojuro to come over the whole time.
“My lease is going to be up soon,” Kyojuro said one night he was sleeping at Hairo’s, pushing a spoon of miso soup into his mouth.
“Are you going to renew?” Hairo asked, pushing the sweet potatoes around his plate with chopsticks. Every time Kyojuro was over, his stomach was so in knots it made it hard to eat.
“I was thinking of moving,” he said instead, taking another spoonful.
“You have a spare bedroom, and it’s closer to campus, so I thought… Maybe here,” he said, glancing up at him.
Hairo dropped his chopsticks.
His head snapped up so fast he almost made himself dizzy. “W-what? Here? Like, like with me?” his voice was uncharacteristically high.
“In the spare bedroom,” Kyojuro corrected, the spoon dipped into the bowl, but now unmoving.
“Right. Right,” he muttered. His throat bobbing as he swallowed.
It surprised absolutely no one when Kyojuro had moved into the primary bedroom with Hairo in less than a month after he moved in. There was no discussion. There was no grand gesture. No announcement. Just one day, Kyojuro walked into the bedroom where Hairo was laying down already, and he crawled into bed with him. Wrapping his arms around him, nudging his head under his chin. There was a moment of frozen panic, like he was afraid the world would shatter if he moved. Slowly, oh so slowly, he wrapped his arms back around him. His dark hair, free of gel so it shags, spills over into his hair too. The smell of his shampoo mingling with his.
“You can change your schedule back,” Kyojuro said quietly, his voice thick with sleep. “I know how to get home now.”
Hairo looked sheepish. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He chuckled, nuzzling closer to him. “Yes you do. I can wait until you’re done with his patrols to walk home if you’re that worried about me.”
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