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“Are you ever going to say anything?” Tobirama blinked and looked up from the last minute paperwork he needed to complete before they left for Uzushio.
“Say anything about what?” It was far too early in the morning to try and decipher Hashirama’s cryptic allusions.
“To Madara.” Hashirama mercifully clarified. “About the fact that you like him.”
Not so merciful after all. Damn. Tension ratcheted up Tobirama’s spine at the thought of confessing his affection for his elder brother’s unfairly pretty best friend. Damn Hashirama’s nosiness, and damn himself for letting Hashirama get him drunk enough that one time (or those many times) to admit his attraction to the Uchiha out loud where Hashirama could hear.
Tobirama knew all about the betting pool his and Madara’s nearest and dearest had set up, gambling who knows how much money on the resolution of Tobirama’s crush. Hashirama could try and wheedle a confession out of Tobirama all he liked, Tobirama refused to play the fool for their entertainment.
“No.” Tobirama turned back to his work as Hashirama deflated with a whine of dismay.
“Why not? You get along now, right? Izuna even likes you! You should ask Madara out for lunch.” Lost in his daydream Hashirama sighed and clutched his hands to his chest. “You can hold hands! And cuddle! And Madara will set all of your stalkers on fire! Oh! You can take romantic walks together! It’ll be so cute.”
As Hashirama’s rhapsodized over the hypothetical romance between his little brother and his best friend, Tobirama pinched the bridge of his nose in resignation.
Of course. Of course that would be Hashirama’s main motivation. This had little to actually do with Tobirama’s awkward crush (although said crush had probably been what led to Hashirama having this idea in the first place.) This was about the semi-annual visit to the Uzumaki.
Of course Hashirama would seize on the idea of pairing his beloved little brother up with his rabidly overprotective best friend right before they visited the one clan Hashirama was contractually unable to flatten in defense of Tobirama’s virtue.
Of course.
“Go away, Anija. I need to get this work done.” Tobirama resolutely pushed down the tiny flutters of hope Hashirama thoughtless scheme stirred up in his chest. Confirmation bias was a thing. Just because Hashirama said his foolishness would work as planned did not necessarily mean Madara actually had romantic inclinations towards Tobirama.
Enough fantasizing. Tobirama needed to get his work done so at least one source of his stress would be removed from this trip.
Hashirama slumped against Tobirama’s back with a whine of dismay. “But you’d be so cute together.”
Despite his best efforts to ignore his brother’s dramatics, Tobirama could not help but agree with the sentiment. Madara was adorable on a regular day. Seeing him in a romantic setting would probably be the end of Tobirama’s sanity.
/…/
Tobirama was pleasantly surprised when he discovered that Hashirama had managed to complete all of his paperwork despite Tobirama having taken the previous day off. If only Tobirama could find a method of encouraging Hashirama’s work ethic that did not hinge on Hashirama’s enraged big brother over-protectiveness being engaged. Still, Tobirama would take what he could get at this point, especially since dealing with the Uzumaki was its own special type of exhausting.
The Uzumaki as a Clan were loud, colourful, and dauntingly single-minded in pursuit of their interests. Which, with disheartening frequency, often turned out to involve attraction to Tobirama in some form or another.
It had taken multiple embarrassing encounters and repeat offences before Tobirama had cottoned on to the most effective method for deterring their interest. Blunt statements of disinterest were taken as a challenge to try harder, violence just seemed to excite them, and so Tobirama had learned to make vague if very emphatic statements that his interests truly laid elsewhere. That said method often involved the closest thing to a heartfelt declaration of his innermost feelings Tobirama was capable of was a large part of the reason why Tobirama did his best to keep knowledge of the aforementioned encounters away from Hashirama.
Unfortunately Tobirama’s own inhibitions against public displays had delayed his revelation regarding how to handle an interested Uzumaki long enough for Hashirama to have born witness to more than a few missteps over the years. Such as the incident with Mito’s very-forward cousin and her wandering hands.
On one hand, it was undeniably heartwarming to have tangible proof of how much he meant to his brother and sister-in-law. Watching Hashirama and Mito glare dire warnings at all and sundry while Tobirama played at being the innocent victim was a pleasant diversion from the tension that often accompanied the yearly negotiations.
On the other hand, it was more than a little annoying to deal with people who thought Hashirama’s explicit outrage meant Tobirama was unable to defend himself against unwanted advances. It had taken breaking Uzumaki Manzo’s arm in two places to get it through the man’s head that Tobirama was not and never would be interested in Manzo’s tasteless propositions.
Uzumaki Mika never had forgiven them for ‘stealing’ her daughter from her. Which was ironic, considering it was Mika herself who had initially proposed to match Mito with a Senju scion.
Still, every Clan contained at least a few objectionable people. It was simply unfortunate circumstances that Hashirama’s in-laws were the sour grapes in the Uzumaki Clan.
At least Tobirama would have company in his aggravation this year, thanks to the addition of the Uchiha to the proceedings. Both Madara and Izuna would be accompanying the Senju delegation to the Uzumaki Clan. Izuna’s presence among them was all Tobirama needed to know that Hashirama was probably filling Madara’s ears with all sorts of nonsense. The only reason Madara would allow Izuna to leave the Village before the younger Uchiha’s healing was entirely complete was because Madara thought there was someone else in greater need of protection.
That someone, of course, was Tobirama. It was all Tobirama could do not to cringe when he thought about what sort of stories Hashirama had been telling the Uchiha. Either or both, it did not matter. In the end the Uchiha brothers would share the rumours with each other and Tobirama did not need to be a genius to predict the rage that would follow.
Hopefully both Madara and Izuna would behave themselves. Tobirama really did not want to be responsible for the mess the Uchiha would make if they decided to take offense with the Uzumaki for existing.
/…/
The Uzumaki were as loud and boisterous as ever. Tobirama took a certain amount of pleasure in Madara and Izuna’s wide-eyed startlement. The reactions of the dark Uchiha to the colorful Uzumaki were priceless.
Watching as Mito offered stiff greetings to her mother and elder brother, Tobirama carefully hid his smirk. Uzumaki Mika’s pride was still stung by the fact that her little plot to steal Tobirama’s sensor abilities for her own clan had fallen flat.
Granted, if Tobirama had ever had any inclination at all towards women Mito might very well have been his type. To bad even the blind could see how Hashirama and Mito had been mutually smitten from the moment they met one another. Tobirama was already living the cliché of being infatuated with his big brother’s best friend. He refused to contemplate the overdramatic tragicomedy that would have resulted if Mika’s scheme to marry Mito to Tobirama had succeeded.
Thank all the spirits Mito had taken one look at Hashirama and set out to win him over. The thought of living under Uzumaki Mika’s thumb was distasteful in the extreme. It was undeniably more pleasant to think about how Mito had turned the tables on her mother when she married Hashirama instead.
Oh yes, much more pleasant.
Now if only Uzumaki Manzo would concede defeat and back off. Tobirama did not know, nor did he care, if Manzo’s attentions were due to genuine attraction or because of some asinine attempt to get back at Hashirama for ‘stealing’ Mito away from the Uzumaki Clan. Anyone who had met Mito even once could tell that she was the one who is chosen Hashirama, and if anyone was getting swept off their feet and carted away it was his ridiculous older brother.
Manzo was both deluded and self-important. Tobirama found him incredibly tiresome, and though he regretted the public loss of composure breaking Manzo’s arm last year has been fantastically satisfying. If nothing else it lent more weight to the gimlet glares Hashirama gave Tobirama’s erstwhile Uzumaki suitors. Mito tended to favor understated threats, which bypassed the more thickheaded members of her birth clan entirely.
It would be interesting to see which way the Uchiha’s overprotective gestures would lean. It was unfortunate that the bad apples in the Uzumaki bunch were Hashirama’s in-laws. It restricted them all to standard diplomatic gestures, rather than allowing for more flamboyant shows of offense. Madara and Izuna were not so restrained, and from what Tobirama had learned over the past few years the Uchiha might not have cared even if they had needed to be diplomatic.
Madara’s arm pressed against his own, the star-bright chakra a warm flair of support to Tobirama’s unique senses. Dark eyes were turned away as Madara glowered suspiciously at the surrounding Uzumaki. So it was safe enough for Tobirama to indulge himself for a moment, and admire Madara’s profile.
The elder Uchiha really was distractingly pretty. It was bad for Tobirama’s heart.
Izuna caught Tobirama’s eye and waggled his eyebrows with a salacious grin. Tobirama glared at the younger Uchiha and fought the urge to smack the smarm off Izuna’s stupid face. Bad Tobirama, no violence allowed while the brat was still healing. If anything happened to Izuna then Madara would kill everyone on the island and then himself.
… Hm. Tobirama would save that thought for later contemplation, especially if Manzo got really pushy. A rampaging Uchiha was the logical next step if a broken arm failed to make an impression on Manzo’s behaviour, right?
/…/
Hashirama’s hysterics over ‘the Uzumaki are trying to seduce Tobirama away from us’ were as overblown as always. To the point that Tobirama suspected his older brother was entirely ignorant of Uzumaki Mika’s standing orders for her clan members to try and catch Tobirama’s attention. Or he was deliberately ignoring it.
With Hashirama it was impossible to tell which option was more likely.
Having the Uchiha with them was understandably granting Tobirama a welcome reprieve from the constant bombardment of Uzumaki attention. The blood feud has lasted for so many generations that seeing an Uchiha without their sharingan activated was a novel experience. The Uzumaki were not much different from the Senju when it came to getting distracted by the sight of their old enemies enjoying some downtime. So Tobirama was left with ample time to admire the delightful sight of Madara in formalwear.
Such a lovely man. The way Madara filled out the drape of his robes was worthy of several hours of pleasant contemplation.
The fly in the ointment showed itself on the second day. Uzumaki Manzo was pushy and pompous, but not stupid. Tobirama had gotten a bit too comfortable with his fruitless crush and the way everyone in his social circle except Madara knew about it. So Tobirama had been too obvious in the longing looks he sent in Madara’s direction and Manzo had picked up on it.
Thus began the newest angle of attack.
Ah… Tobirama mentally apologized to everyone who had ever gotten offended on his behalf after the Uzumaki got too forward for propriety. If Manzo kept looking at Madara’s ass like that Tobirama was going to do something… undiplomatic.
Yes, Madara’s was a very nice backside, and it encouraged more than a few daydreams on Tobirama’s part, but the look of distain Madara gave the Uzumaki heir was very clear. The way Madara wrinkled his nose may have been unfairly adorable, but the Uchiha’s squinty-eyed suspicion of the Uzumaki was enough to hold most of them off.
The self-inflated idiot just kept on leering despite all that. It made Tobirama bare his teeth in a snarl, only barely keeping control because it was obvious that Manzo remembered the lesson Tobirama had taught him about consent during last year’s visit. Yet despite that Tobirama still had to break the fingers of at least four separate people who all needed an object lesson on keeping their hands to themselves.
This was quite possibly the most frustrating situation Tobirama had ever been in. Madara was all dressed up in formal robes and Tobirama was so busy trying to project death on anyone he caught staring with intent to do any real looking of his own. It was a tragedy.
At least Madara was distracted enough by his observations of the negotiations that he had missed the speculative looks he garnered from the Uzumaki. At least Madara trusted Tobirama enough that the small spikes of killing intent Tobirama wielded like senbon to make his point perfectly clear slipped beneath the Uchiha’s notice. At least Tobirama had managed to keep Madara away from the worst offenders for breaches of personal space.
All this and it was only the first day of their visit.
/…/
“You will keep your hands to yourself.” Tobirama hissed, the dull crunch of thin bones snapping in half disguised within the clatter of the scrolls Tobirama was carrying. Manzo was shinobi enough to silence any sounds of pain, but there was nothing the Uzumaki Heir could do to stop the blood from draining out of his face.
“You dare…” Manzo swallowed back the rest of his words when Tobirama’s glare sharpened with unspoken threat. “You… you have no claim on him.”
“And you have a tendency to presume too much.” Feeling his lips peel back from his teeth Tobirama realized that he was done being polite. Fuck representing the Senju Clan, this fuckery had gone on for too long. “Should I remind you of your manners once again? This lesson can be repeated at least nine more times.”
Now Manzo flushed with fury, but the terror in his eyes was enough to tell Tobirama his warning had been understood. Trying to save face, Manzo sneered. “As if a frigid little-!”
“Manzo-niisama, good morning.” Mito stepped gracefully into the corridor where are the two men were having their confrontation. Her eyes narrowed in icy disapproval as she took in the way Manzo was crowding into Tobirama’s space. “Tobirama, is that today’s agenda?”
“Good morning, Mito.” Tobirama inclined his head as he greeted his sister-in-law politely, both of them silently dismissing Manzo’s presence from their exchange. “Was there something else you wished to add to today’s talks?”
“No, I was simply making certain that you had them all.” With a gentle grip on Tobirama’s elbow Mito grew her darling little brother along with her towards the main gathering hall. Tobirama let himself be moved without complaint, amused by the way Mito shamelessly pushed him into the empty space between Madara and Izuna before sweeping off to link arms with Hashirama.
“There you are.” Izuna exclaimed cheerfully, as if he had conveniently forgotten about darting ahead to menace Mito’s overly handsy cousin. “Did you get lost?”
“I was just making sure I had all my scrolls.” Tobirama replied blandly, gazing around the room as he made a quick visual sweep of the occupants. Poor Mitsuki looked a little traumatized, but maybe now she would realize that not everyone appreciated a raunchy joke. Especially not one told at the victim’s expense.
“Fantastic.” Sighing in relief, Madara tossed his hair back. He ignored Izuna’s offended whine as some of the pins holding it down came loose. “The last thing we need is for this nonsense to take any longer than it has to.”
“Mm.” Tobirama stared straight ahead and tried to calm his racing heart. Was the eyeliner really necessary? Sage, this was just completely unfair of the Uchiha. This was Izuna’s doing, Tobirama just knew it was. Leave it to the younger Uchiha to find new and inventive ways to torment his rival. Tobirama had done nothing (recently) to deserve this sort of abuse.
“Are you alright?” Madara peered up at him, and Tobirama could clearly see Izuna that was smirking smugly at Tobirama’s distress over his brother’s shoulder. Tobirama’s breath was caught in his throat as Madara moved a bit closer, brow creased in concern. Those eyes were unfair. This was entrapment. Tobirama was wise to your wicked ways, Izuna! Oh shit, Madara was still talking. “Did something happen back there?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Clearing his throat, Tobirama inclined his head towards their seats. “We should take our places, the meeting will start soon.”
Madara frowned dubiously but stepped back to give Tobirama room to move forward. “If you say so.”
Izuna jabbed an elbow into Tobirama’s side, fluttering his lashes mockingly as he made a kissyface in Tobirama’s direction. Tobirama glared in warning and shamelessly tripped Izuna into the nearest potted palm tree.
/…/
With malicious glee, Tobirama watched Manzo hide his broken fingers in his sleeve. It was a lasting enough lesson that all Tobirama had to do to remind Manzo of it was bend his brush handle between his hands and the Uzumaki heir would flinch back. It cut down on the incessant leering by a considerable amount.
Mika was nothing but sour grapes as Mito bargained on behalf of the Senju clan. Hashirama was wearing his murder face, which Tobirama had come to expect during visits to the in-laws. Izuna looked both bored by the proceedings, and irritated by the company.
(Madara was pretty.)
For his part, Madara looked like someone watching particularly confusing theatre act. Somewhat torn between being entertained by what was currently happening while also being wary of what else might be coming.
Smart man.
/…/
Thank the Sage for Izuna. If Tobirama had been forced to stay in that stuffy room for even one more minute he probably would have done something… unwise. To say the least.
The Uzumaki would probably be even less enthusiastic about a sudden infestation of zombies than Hashirama had been.
Oh well, at least he had the chance to spend some quality time with Madara.
With… only Madara. Um.
Um.
/…/
Izuna was… not subtle in his intentions. Not subtle at all.
Tobirama had a feeling he knew who would win the pot if… well.
He glanced sideways at Madara, who still looked half-asleep with lingering boredom from the negotiations. Still, whatever Izuna’s motivations may have been, Tobirama could think of worse things than being tricked into going on an almost-date with Madara.
There was no real consideration as to their destination, Tobirama simply headed straight for Ayame’s sushi stall on autopilot.
“Sit down, you silly boy.” Ayame looked Tobirama over as Madara followed him into the little shop, and the chef clicked her tongue in dismay. “Now I know it’s a bit of a trip for you to come here, but bags that heavy are just ridiculous. Did you sleep at all? No, don’t bother to answer, the boulders in your back tell me everything I need to know. I said sit down. What sort of shop you think I’m running here? You want to ruin my reputation? Sit!”
“Of course, Ayame-san.” Tobirama pulled Madara to the little corner booth in the back he always chose as his seat when he visited. “You already know what I like, and inarizushi for Madara, please.”
“Coming right up!” Ayame was already moving to prepare their meals, but she was not even watching her hands in favor of looking Madara up-and-down. The salacious wink she sent Tobirama’s way was completely uncalled for.
This was not a date.
… Even if it would have been a perfect one, if it was. Which it was not.
The childish delight on Madara’s face when he tasted Ayame’s inarizushi made a chef’s misconceptions about the situation worth it.
“The pickled sakura blossoms are my favorite topping.” Madara admitted with a lopsided smile.
“I’m glad.” Tobirama gestured towards his plate with his chopsticks. “Ayame-san has a signature savory sauce that I’m particularly fond of. It’s the reason I keep coming back here.”
“Hm.” Madara flicked a glance at Tobirama’s dish. “I had noticed that you tend to avoid sweet things.”
“And you’re a menace to anything with sugar or spice.” Tobirama shot back, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll never forget Anija’s face after he stole your sesame ball. What had you put in the center again?”
“It was just a little chili oil.” Rolling his eyes, Madara scoffed. “Hashirama just has a baby palate.”
Amused as always by Madara’s strange relationship with his older brother, Tobirama just shook his head. “Which poor cook did you badger into making those things for you anyway?”
“I didn’t badger anyone!” Huffing in mock offense, Madara haughtily lifted his chin. “If you must know I made them myself.”
“Oh?” Oh no. Tobirama blinked and did his best not to get distracted by the onslaught of mental images focused around Madara puttering around the house in an apron, his hair tucked back under a handkerchief. “Do you cook often?”
“I… find it relaxing.” Madara admitted slowly, toying with his napkin as a faint flush colored his cheeks. “And putting together new recipes is fun.”
“It’s good to have a hobby you enjoy.” Well, all right. Fine. It looked like Tobirama was doomed to suffer a montage a domestic househusband fantasies. Of Madara cooking him dinner. Wearing a frilly apron. Only a frilly apron. With bows. Just like a present Tobirama was meant to unwrap.
Quick, Tobirama needed a distraction before he committed a public indecency.
/…/
… What the fuck had he been thinking? This was a horrible idea. Tobirama swallowed with a dry throat as Madara’s formal robes fluttered to the ground. This left the Uchiha in only a skintight undershirt and pants that left large triangles of hip and thigh exposed to Tobirama’s hungry gaze.
Which genius decided that getting sweaty and putting their hands all over each other was a good way to calm down?
Madara glanced up from his stretches and grinned, wide and wild and inviting.
Oh.
Oh, Tobirama managed to think through the daze that had fallen over his mind. Oh, Madara was beautiful and a taijutsu spar was one of the best ideas Tobirama had ever had.
/…/
Tobirama had a date.
Wandering down the beach as the sun sank lower in the sky, Madara’s fingers threaded through his own, Tobirama let himself revel in the knowledge of his success. Madara’s chakra was warm and bright and just as pleased by their proximity to one another as Tobirama was.
Madara wanted to date him. Tobirama had never known success so sweet.
They were going on a date.
/…/
Holding Madara’s hand was everything Tobirama had dreamed of and more. Not even the revelation that only Hashirama had believed Tobirama would be the one with the guts to make the first move in his and Madara’s relationship could ruin this day for him.
In fact, denying the meddlesome gambling addicts posing as his friends and family their long-sought-after winnings only made Tobirama’s moment of triumph all the sweeter. The indignant wailing from Izuna was like a fancy garnish on an already delicious victory cake.
Tobirama was going to have to do something nice for his brother soon. Hashirama had been nothing but supportive of Tobirama’s possible pursuit of a romantic relationship with Madara. Given Hashirama’s impossible-to-meet standards for judging the suitability of Tobirama’s romantic partners, it was telling that Madara had never received even so much as a warning glare. Hashirama had always had Tobirama’s best interests in mind, and Madara had been everything Tobirama wanted. There was no way Tobirama would have been confident enough to take the opening and ask Madara on a date without Hashirama’s previous encouragement of the idea.
… Actually now that Tobirama thought about it a date was what had happened today. Tobirama had asked Madara out for lunch and followed it up with a romantic walk on the beach. A picture perfect first date, and neither of them had ruined it by trying too hard. Granted, that was probably because neither of them had realized it was a date until it was halfway over, but that was just meaningless semantics.
The important thing to keep in mind here was that technically they had already been on their first date, and that meant Tobirama could show Madara his tattoos whenever he felt like it.
Like now, just for instance.
“Tobi?” Madara was still wearing eyeliner. The smoky lines were a bit smudged and somehow more attractive for it, drawing attention to the fey darkness of Madara’s eyes. Lips pursed in concern, Madara let Tobirama pull him through the doorway into the guestroom Tobirama had claimed as his own for the duration of their visit. “Are you… are you alright? If the attention was too much I can-mmrm? Mmm…”
Dirty thoughts aside, Tobirama had really only intended on sharing a few kisses. Only Madara was delightfully responsive, and his mouth was hot and welcoming against Tobirama’s own. Somehow Madara’s kisses managed to be both yielding and demanding at the same time, and he sighed when their lips parted. Happy murmurs passed back and forth between them, pleasure and well-met longing rolled together in a tangle of emotion.
Tobirama kept pressing back into the embrace, dizzy with feeling and eager, eager, eager to meet Madara desire for desire. Madara pressed in closer in turn, hands wrapped around the back of Tobirama’s neck, and Tobirama wondered if the Uchiha was standing on his toes to be able to reach.
So cute. That was so cute. How was it possible for a battlefield demon of flame and blood and maddened rage to be so cute?
A squeak of shock was trapped between them as Tobirama finally got his hands on Madara’s backside. Firm and plush and deliciously curved, it felt just as nice in his hands as it looked.
Tobirama came to the realization that he was going to spend the rest of his life breaking other peoples fingers in defense of that rump and he was going to do so gladly.
“You.” Madara gasped as he hitched a leg around Tobirama’s hip. “Are completely shameless.”
“Saa.” Scraping his teeth over the tender patch of skin under Madara’s jaw, Tobirama grinned playfully. “Are we doing something shameful?”
“Oh…” Madara blinked, his eyes going wide in revelation. He laughed, free and easy and delighted. Head thrown back and trusting Tobirama to take all of his weight. “You’re right… there’s nothing to be ashamed of between us.”
Hitching Madara up into his arms was easy, even with the other man giggling too much to be any help. A kiss was pressed to the tip of Tobirama’s nose, and Madara’s hair tumbled around them, blocking out the rest of the world and carrying the scent of wood smoke and salt.
“Would you sleep with me?” Tobirama asked softly, wanting to preserve the tender moment.
“For as long as you want me.” Madara murmured back just as gently, just as aware of how rare this sweetness could be. “I’ll be here to guard your dreams and wake beside you.”
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