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Madara is going to murder Hashirama. He's daydreamed about it, on days when the eldest Senju makes him want to tear his own hair out, but now he's actually going to do it, and god, he is going to enjoy it. Hell, he's going to laugh while he does it, and Hashirama's last thought will be of how much he regrets locking him in this damn room with Tobirama. He'll make sure of that.
He can feel Tobirama's eyes, watching him with what he's sure is disdain as he beats one hand against the door, yelling for Hashirama to let them out before he breaks the door down. On the other side, Hashirama just laughs, reminding him that they'd reinforced all the doors in the building after that security incident last year. He could try anyway, he supposes, purely out of spite-fueled rage, but he knows he'd never make it through no matter how angry he is.
"You may as well give up," Tobirama says behind him, and Madara scoffs, rolling his eyes and beating on the door again. And again, his demands to be let out are met with only laughter. "When Hashirama sets his mind to something, there is no changing it, and he seems to have gotten it into his head that we need to make peace. I doubt he'll let us out until we do."
"Then I guess we'll die in here, won't we?" Madara snaps, turning to level Tobirama with a sharp glare that the other man appears completely unbothered by. God, he's almost as annoying as his brother. "Now, unless you're going to help me, shut up."
"I could, but what would be the fun in that?" Tobirama asks, raising a brow, and Madara hates the smirk that crosses his face almost as much as he hates the man himself.
"You wouldn't know fun if it slapped you in the face," Madara mutters, rolling his eyes once more and returning his attention to the door, suddenly perking up. "Oh, there's an idea. We could make a game of it - each time you open your mouth, I slap you in the face."
"You and I have very different ideas of fun," Tobirama responds, and the amusement in his voice has Madara bristling, ready to turn and keep his word about hitting him, but before he can move, Tobirama speaks again. "We could at least try being civil, Madara. It won't kill you."
"It might," he mumbles, slamming his hand against the door once again before turning to face Tobirama, crossing his arms over his chest. The other man has taken a seat on a chair by the wall, looking way too calm for the situation they're in. It's infuriating.
"You're so dramatic," Tobirama mutters, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. "If you're not going to try and be civil, then at least be quiet. Hashirama may misread the situation, assume we're getting along, and let us out."
Madara considers his words for a moment, scowling angrily when he realizes that Tobirama is right. Not that he'll ever tell him that - he does not need the ego boost. Instead, he takes his advice silently, letting his arms lower to his sides as he walks across the room to sit on the edge of the desk. It's not a particularly comfortable perch, but it's as far from Tobirama as the small office will allow.
"You're surprisingly calm about this," he says after a long moment, glancing at Tobirama from the corner of his eye. From here, he cuts a striking figure - the sharp angle of his jaw, the taut line of his neck, the dark cut of the scars across his cheeks and chin.... He almost finds the view impressive, then remembers who he's looking at and promptly looks away, focusing his glower on the door once more. There is absolutely nothing impressive about Tobirama.
"I see no point in getting riled up about it," Tobirama responds simply, stifling a yawn. "Either Hashirama will get bored of this and let us out, or he'll leave us in here until security does their morning rounds and finds us. Of course, there is a way to speed this process along, but you've already expressed your disinterest so I won't bring it up again."
Madara growls under his breath, but doesn't bother with a response, crossing his arms over his chest again, throwing a furtive glance in the younger Senju's direction. He freezes when he sees him removing his dark blue suit jacket and loosening his tie. He can't help the way his gaze rakes down his body, noting the close fit of his crisp white button-down, the way it stretches across his shoulders, a little broader than the cut of his suit jacket had let on... No. Stop that.
"What are you doing?" Madara demands, shaking those very inappropriate thoughts from his head and glaring at Tobirama again.
"We may be here a while," Tobirama points out, carefully folding his jacket over the arm of the chair. "No point in being uncomfortable."
Madara stares at him for another long moment, completely caught off guard by just how relaxed Tobirama is, given that he's trapped in a room with someone he so obviously hates. Even more surprising, however, is that the longer they're in here, the more Madara feels his own anger melting away. Perhaps it's Tobirama's level-headed demeanor about it all, almost like he's used to Hashirama doing things like this, or maybe it's that he's getting used to Madara - though Madara very much doubts the latter. Tobirama had been raised to hate everyone that bore the Uchiha name, after all, and he is much less open-minded than his older brother when it comes to his family's long-term business rivals.
If he's being honest with himself, it bothers him, how much Tobirama dislikes him. Madara has always prided himself on his ability to form working relationships, at the very least, with others, even those meant to be his rivals. Hell, he'd managed to win over the eldest Senju brother, who had been hearing the anti-Uchiha spiel a lot longer than Tobirama, so what exactly was Tobirama's problem? At the very least, he should be able to pretend to like his brother's best friend...
And suddenly, Madara feels so incredibly stupid. Does he really hate Tobirama just because Tobirama doesn't like him?
Or does he hate him because he hates himself for wanting Tobirama to like him?
Madara chances another glance at Tobirama, finding him leaning back in the chair once more, and as his gaze traces over the taut line of his throat again, following the angle of his jaw, he thinks of the ridiculous conversation he'd had with Hashirama not two days prior, the suggestion that maybe he and Tobirama were so antagonistic because they had feelings for each other, and he feels sick to his stomach - because he's starting to think that maybe Hashirama was right, if the way his pants tighten uncomfortably when Tobirama's tongue lazily sweeps out to wet his lips is any way to judge the situation. Shit.
He knows now that Hashirama didn't do this just because he wanted his brother and best friend to get along - he was trying to play matchmaker.
Yes, Madara is most definitely going to kill him.
"Please don't," Tobirama mumbles suddenly, and Madara can't tell if it's the way please sounds so foreign in his mouth or the sleepy way he says it that sends another pulse of blood straight between his legs.
"Don't what?" he snaps, another surge of anger making his blood boil when his voice wavers slightly.
"Kill my brother," Tobirama responds, pushing himself up into a sitting position, yawning. "You keep muttering that you're going to kill him, do you not hear yourself? I-" He pauses, and Madara's gaze snaps up to find him staring at the obvious tenting in Madara's pants. He can see in Tobirama's eyes the moment he puts two and two together. "Oh."
"'Oh' what?" Madara asks gruffly, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the desk, willing himself to sink through the floor.
"I didn't realize," Tobirama answers quietly, and the unsure tone of his voice is surprising - Madara has never heard him sound like that before. "That you..."
"Feel free to ignore it and pretend it didn't happen," Madara snaps, turning his head to glare at the wall, cursing his own body for daring to react to Tobirama, of all people, in this way. He curses Hashirama again for good measure - it's his fault, after all, he-
His entire train of thought stutters to a halt when he senses movement, and then Tobirama is standing in front of him, eyes unreadable as he studies him. He wants out of this room, right this second, he thinks, breath catching in his throat when he realizes just how close Tobirama is.
Don't do it, Madara tells himself, a split second before his hands move of their own accord, catching on Tobirama's back and pulling him in. He finds his mouth easily, kissing him so hard he tastes the copper tang of blood - his blood, Tobirama's blood, he doesn't even know, doesn't even care, too distracted by the fact that his body has betrayed him once more, that he's just kissed Tobirama and Tobirama is kissing him back.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit-
Tobirama derails him once more as he steps closer, fingers tangling in his hair, and Madara is even more painfully aware of his own erection than before as Tobirama's body presses to his, but Tobirama doesn't seem to mind - in fact, unless he's imagining things, Madara thinks that maybe, just maybe, Tobirama might be reacting to him in the same way.
He's about to test that theory when a sudden, loud knock on the door makes Tobirama step back, and Madara is enraged all over again when he sees how composed the Senju still is, like he wasn't just making out with someone he was supposed to hate, while Madara is sure he looks as big a mess as he feels.
"You two still alive in there?" Hashirama yells through the door.
"I'm going to kill him," Madara growls again, earning himself a quiet laugh from Tobirama that's over so fast he's not even sure he really heard it, but he decides he likes it all the same.
"To be continued?" Tobirama asks, and his guarded expression is back, but there's a flicker of something strangely uncertain in his eyes, and Madara can only nod, completely winded by the simple question. "Good. Compose yourself, Madara, you look ridiculous." The comment is no where near as biting as some things Tobirama has said in the past, and he can't bring himself to be even slightly irritated by it, seeing it for what it is - a hint of normalcy following a strange and confusing situation that had left both of them needing to re-evaluate a few things.
Hell, Madara needs to re-evaluate a lot of things after this encounter. For now, though, he settles for smoothing down his hair where Tobirama's fingers had mussed it and adjusting himself so Hashirama wouldn't see any evidence of what had happened here. Once he's sure he looks normal, he nods to Tobirama, who tells Hashirama they've sorted everything and can let them out.
Madara breezes past the both of them the instant the door is open, mind racing as he puts as much distance between himself and the Senju brothers as he can.
What the hell had just happened?