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“We should get married.”
Madara lifted his head from where it had been buried in paperwork he wasn’t all that interested in doing, glad for any sort of distraction. He looked over to where Tobirama stood by the window with a whimsical expression on his face and his arms tucked in to the sleeves of his haori, half-lidded eyes watching the flow of citizens passing by on the streets below. With deliberate movements Madara set his pen aside and sat back in his seat to mirror the other man’s pose.
“Should we?” he asked, willing to play along if it would keep him from reading any more budget reports.
“Neither of us is getting any younger,” Tobirama pointed out. “And I don’t know about you but I think it would be rather nice to have someone to wake up next to. I’ve spent a lot of years living alone; it would be nice not to anymore.”
“Hmm.”
Tilting his head to one side, Madara considered those points. Forty years had done very little to age the man before him. Despite the lines deepening around the corners of Madara’s eyes and mouth Tobirama remained relatively untouched by the ravages of time. The animosity and anger that had defined their relationship during the early years of the village was long since cooled, leaving in its place mutual respect and a calm companionship. He might actually call them friends if not for the excuse that there was almost always another mutual loved one there when they spent time together outside of work. Whether it be Izuna or Hashirama didn’t matter, their two families had grown close enough to blur the lines in several different ways.
It wasn’t an unattractive proposition, really, just as Tobirama was not an unattractive man. Madara could admit that he had given thought to a tumble in the sheets several times over the past couple of decades but there always seemed to be something holding him back – one of their brothers, poor timing, the tumultuous nature of their relationship in the beginning. Marriage, on the other hand, that subject had been on his mind and stuck there more times than he could count, although never in conjunction with Tobirama.
Watching his best friend’s relationship with Mito grow stronger year by year left him yearning for that same companionship. Yet it simply wasn’t in his nature to set out looking for love, being more the retiring type who figured either love would find him along the way or he would merely have to content himself with the precious people already in his life. Tobirama’s whimsical suggestion rather neatly found a way around that.
“Are you saying I’m so undesirable that I can’t find a husband of my own?” he asked, unsure if he was even taking the idea seriously or not. A smile quirked his lips when Tobirama let out an easy chuckle.
“You haven’t yet.”
Madara narrowed his eyes playfully. “Don’t bring the truth in to this.”
He preened a little when that earned him an outright laugh. Despite age relaxing them both quite a bit Tobirama was still known as quite a stern and reserved individual. Outright laughter was a rare gift and hard-earned by very few, typically more given to quiet chuckles or soft huffs of amusement. Tobirama unfolded his arms and turned away from the window at such an angle that the afternoon sunlight lit his hair and left a crown of gold circled around his pale locks.
“We get along. I find you attractive. And one-night stands lost their shine long before I started approaching middle age. It would be nice, wouldn’t it, to have someone to call your own? It’s not love but companionship would be…well. We’d have someone to bring along to family dinners – that we both already attend anyway.” Tobirama shrugged casually, everything about him loose and at ease as though he were only speculating out loud without caring one way or the other what answer he got. And yet there was something about his tone and the faraway look in his eyes that said his suggestion hadn’t been quite as whimsical as it originally seemed.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Madara asked.
“It’s not a bad idea. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Hm.” Sitting forward and resting his chin on one palm, Madara tried to picture it.
Going home at night to find another body there like he used to find Izuna waiting to greet him. Laying his head down in the winter and curling himself in to welcoming heat. Lounging in the summer haze with their toes dipped in the koi pond in his backyard, shoulders brushing and voices low while they chatted about how far this village had come and all the great things the next generations would do with the foundations they had been given.
It truly wasn’t such a bad idea. Several extended missions together had taught him that Tobirama was an easy man to live with. Waking up to that face every morning and sating himself in that body when the mood took them wouldn’t exactly be a hardship. Actually the more he thought about it the more he realized the idea appealed to him.
“Alright.” It slipped out almost without his permission but he didn’t take it back. “Yes. Let’s get married.”
Tobirama blinked, watched him for a moment to be sure that he wasn’t just pulling some sort of joke, then ducking his chin with a warm smile that somehow made the hard angles of his face look soft. Looking at that smile made the corners of his own mouth twitch and Madara thought to himself with some surprise that he probably wouldn’t regret this. In fact, he was actually looking forward to it.
-
It was likely that if both of them had been younger and still clinging to the trappings of inflated pride their engagement would probably have stretched for twice as long as they quibbled over the smallest details of their upcoming nuptials, striving against each other for both of their clans to be properly represented. Pride still straightened both their tired spines in the morning but it had banked in to quiet embers rather than flames barely contained and ready to burst forth at the slightest notice. It was easy enough to come to a few compromises when they were needed.
Although they did take the time to enjoy a few arguments. They would always be themselves no matter how old they got and at this point bickering had become a beloved ritual they refused to give up on.
Barely a handful of months passed between their engagement and the wedding, just enough time for the winter snows to melt and spring to bloom with a little help from their retired first Hokage. Most of the planning had actually been handled by Mito and Hikaku while the two bridegrooms spent as much time as they could out of the village for any duty they could possibly scrounge up to avoid all the gossip surrounding their decision. Rumors about a hidden love affair were only humorous if they were kept to whispers when the subjects passed by. When people started approaching them with questions to settle the betting pools that had popped up, that was the point at which they both started disappearing. Where was the fun is clearing the mystery?
The ceremony was held on top of the mountain overlooking the village, Madara and Tobirama exchanging their vows as the sun set between their linked hands. Originally they had intended for Hashirama to officiate but after realizing he was likely to ruin the ceremony with copious amounts of crying they asked Mito instead. It was a good choice in the end as their predictions came true and Hashirama spent most of the ceremony weeping where he stood at Tobirama’s side in witness.
Not truly listening to the woman he already considered as a distant sister-in-law, Madara watched the orange and gold light of sunset play across Tobirama’s face, setting his skin aflame. Despite throwing himself headlong in to this partnership and experiencing no doubts since then it was still at least a mild surprise to find himself so calm now that it was all actually happening. Tobirama lifted one of his eyebrows ever so slightly as if to ask where his thoughts had drifted off to and Madara replied with a light shrug that could have been passed off as shifting his position, not wanting to anger Mito. Even after all this time it simply felt off to be so content with his place in life.
Izuna was making catcalls almost before Mito could finish telling them to seal their vows with a kiss, at which point Madara realized that the entirety of the small gathering was about to bear witness to their very first kiss. Before any sort of performance anxiety could take him Tobirama leaned forward to demonstrate one of the more interesting benefits of agreeing to this marriage.
Sweet kami but the man could kiss.
Wild applause from both of their brothers almost drowned out the smattering of enthusiasm from their other guests and they were each dragged in to tight hugs the moment their lips parted. Mito sounded both exasperated and fond as she announced them bonded for life, husbands until death parted them. Her words barely registered. Madara was too caught up watching over Izuna’s shoulder to catch what glimpses he could of the rare warm smile on his partner’s face and imagining what it would be like to wake up to that smile tomorrow morning – and the morning after that one and indeed for the rest of their lives.
They were swept away before he could get lost in his own head any further and hurried along to the pavilion set up a couple dozen feet back from the edge to have dinner with their families and treasured ones. During the rush of good food and endless well wishes Madara found himself strangely relaxed. It still felt odd sometimes looking out at all the faces around him and knowing that some of them had once been his dire enemies, that most of them would have killed him on sight with no remorse, yet now they would mourn his death nearly as much as they would Hashirama’s. The man at his side had been chief among those who once sought his death yet here they were now wearing matching rings and winding their arms together to drink from each other’s sake cups for the amusement of their guests. It was strange, the paths life had taken him down. Even stranger that he regretted none of them.
After dinner came the dancing during which Madara and Tobirama mostly sat to one side in conversation or mingled with the rest of the crowd. Only a handful of times were either of them successfully dragged on to the floor and only twice did they dance with each other, once in the traditional first dance of the night and once when half of their guests had already left, Tobirama surprising Madara by offering his hand with that same quiet whimsical smile he had worn when he offered his hand in marriage.
Of course Madara took it. They said little to each other as they danced, swaying together in a simple pattern since neither of them really knew how to do anything more. And when the music changed and Tobirama asked if he would like to go home Madara nodded without words. He was more than ready to start his new life as a husband – almost eager, in fact. They weren’t in love but they could be said to be good friends and he saw no reason they wouldn’t make each other’s lives better for being together.
-
Their wedding night wasn’t nearly as awkward as it could have been. In fact it was much more pleasant than most of the other experiences Madara had stumbled his way through in the past. Neither of them felt the need to stand on ceremony or do anything to make the evening special in any way but it was certainly a night to remember even without anything like that. Madara woke the next morning feeling languid and something close enough to happy that he was almost inspired to whistle as he made up their breakfast.
He didn’t though. Dignity hadn’t yet abandoned him entirely.
Life as a married man was…calm. Easier than he would have thought. Like all couples they had their disagreements and finding a way to balance their personal habits when they were both so used to being alone took a bit of figuring out. Yet the barriers between them were always thin and easily broken down with words. Age was rarely a disadvantage but in their relationship it was most of what kept them together until they found a way to coexist properly.
On their first anniversary Tobirama waited until evening had cleared the administration tower before leading Madara in to his office where he had pushed the furniture against the walls and laid out a simple picnic for them to enjoy.
“Well look at you being romantic.”
“Brother made so much noise when I mentioned we didn’t plan to celebrate that I told him I would think about it mostly to get some peace and quiet.” Tobirama shrugged as he settled on to the blanket and reached for the basket of food left close by. Madara followed with one eyebrow lifted.
“I will admit, that makes much more sense. And I’m not going to complain since this was my night to make dinner. If you want to do the work for me then I’m alright with that.”
“Oh don’t worry.” His husband smirked as he uncapped the sake bottle. “I’m going to let you cook dinner tomorrow to make up for it.”
Madara leaned against him to laugh, accepting his drink and the plate of all his favorite finger foods. Just inside the basket he could see a covered dish of inarizushi waiting for dessert. It was hard to tell sometimes what Tobirama had learned about him since they married and what he had simply picked up over the years through exposure of listening to Hashirama’s endless babble. Not that it mattered as long as it got him inarizushi to nibble on.
They ate together mostly in silence broken only by the occasional flicker of quiet conversation. Outside the window the stars were bright and the moon full, a pleasant backdrop to admire when they weren’t simply enjoying each other’s company. During the periods when they fell quiet Madara found himself reflecting on the past year, all the ways his life had changed and all the ways it hadn’t. He thought about what things would have been like if he hadn’t accepted Tobirama’s offer, how unremarkable his days would be, full of loneliness though he would still have denied it even to himself.
“Happy anniversary,” he murmured.
“It is, isn’t it?” Tobirama leaned in a little closer to refill his sake but Madara set the dish aside after only one sip.
“Kiss me,” he demanded. With a smirk, Tobirama was only too happy to indulge him.
He also seemed happy to indulge Madara’s stomach as well, feeding him inarizushi by hand and licking his lips clean for him afterwards until they set the food aside in favor of other appetites. It was hardly the first time they had defiled various corners of the tower but something felt different this time, warmer almost, like there was an element in their coupling that either hadn’t been there before or hadn’t been allowed. Madara couldn’t pinpoint exactly where his thoughts were trying to go with that but since he had other more interesting things going on at the moment he let the idea slip away from him as easily as the breathy moan that followed the hands drawing him towards an inexorable peak.
Tobirama was attentive in the aftermath, tracing patterns on his skin with something unreadable in his eyes. Without the energy to even think of trying to figure out such a complicated man’s emotions Madara simply allowed himself to revel in his husband’s attention. He created a clone just to have it clean up the room after them and pulled Tobirama down on to the picnic blanket with him, doing his best to disguise how out of breath he felt.
“Out of stamina already?” Tobirama teased him with a nip on the shoulder. “You’re getting out of shape, old man.”
“I’ll show you out of shape!”
Both of them were smirking when Madara pounced, ready to prove himself with another round.
-
As it had a tendency to, time went on. More anniversaries passed and their partnership only grew stronger with every one. Finally Madara had that which he had been jealous of others for: companionship. It still wasn’t love but he found as time went on that it was quite a pleasant substitute, enough so that he couldn’t speak to having any regrets about where life had taken him.
His thoughts were quiet and his mood content when he found Tobirama enjoying the weather on a warm evening just at the cusp between spring and summer. Some of the chairs on their back porch had accidentally been left out in the rain so he pressed his hands against each of the cushions to find one that wasn’t damp and pulled that one over to sit next to where his husband appeared to have spaced out entirely, staring out in to the empty backyard with no facial expression to speak of. It was only when Madara reached out to lay a hand on his wrist that he stirred.
“Is everything alright?” Madara asked.
“Yes, yes. Just thinking.”
“Anything particularly interesting? No more thoughts about the dead rising again, I hope.”
Tobirama cracked an easy smile but shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t want to listen to those lectures again, thank you. I had something rather more pleasant on my mind.”
“Could have fooled me with such a serious expression.”
He hadn’t meant anything by it so he was a little surprised to have Tobirama turn to him with a grave look in his eyes, deep ruby red in the low light yet pretty in a way that made him wonder how he could have ever hated this man. They stared at each other until he raised his eyebrows in question and Tobirama smiled at him again.
“I love you,” he murmured simply. Madara stared.
“You…did you…?”
“No, I didn’t feel this way when we got married. You grew on me over time, I suppose.”
“Oh.”
Something heavy like guilt settled in his chest. The life they had built together was a good one and he was happy, he couldn’t deny that, but love? If he were asked to be honest he could not say that he loved Tobirama, not in the way it was clear his husband meant. Whatever spiral he was about to go down paused at the touch of fingers to his jaw, the twist of Tobirama’s wrist to weave their other hands together.
“You don’t feel the same,” he acknowledged, “and that’s alright. We both knew how we felt when we got married. Nothing has to change; I don’t expect you to feel any different simply because I do. I only wanted to say it because…well because I wanted to.” With a shrug he seemed to dismiss the entire subject and Madara was left feeling adrift.
For a while they sat in silence again. It was almost unfair how at peace Tobirama seemed to be, his conscience clear with that off his chest. Madara, however, was left to wrestle with the weight of knowing that his partner loved him while he felt nothing but companionship, friendship. Obviously it wasn’t as though he felt nothing, just that he didn’t feel quite the same. It didn’t feel like enough. The issue stayed with him for the rest of the hour they spent outside and all the way through getting ready for bed. He was still wrapped up in it by the time Tobirama pulled him down under the covers and told him that he was being ridiculous.
“It isn’t hurting me, really. We’re already together so there’s no sense in pining for something I already have. Whether or not you return my love won’t change anything so don’t be stupid.” With a roll of his eyes he pulled Madara down to lay on his chest. “If it bothers you then I won’t ever mention it again.”
“No, it’s fine. If you want to say it…”
Tobirama’s fingers in his hair were unfairly soothing. “I love you,” he whispered. “This life is more than I could have hoped to have. Thank you for agreeing to marry me.”
Madara chose not to reply but instead rolled his body a little closer and entwined their legs like he always did before going to sleep. Before long his husband had given in to dreams and he was left awake to contemplate things he couldn’t change and things that he could. He could end this relationship, though it would throw several years of happiness out the window and benefit no one in any way. He also could stay and go on being happy with someone who cared for him and would continue to do so.
He’d always heard that married life would bring unique challenges, though he was fairly sure this wasn’t the sort of thing anyone had in mind when they told him that at the wedding.
After lying awake for several hours eventually Madara decided that the best course of action was to simply do as Tobirama had suggested, to let it go, to not feel bad about it. If Tobirama said that the situation wasn’t hurting him then all Madara could do was trust his word.
-
Since neither he nor his husband had ever had the urge to procreate or carry on their family genes, preferring to leave that particular duty to their other siblings, children hadn’t ever been a conversation they felt the need to have.
From the amount of times he had found Uchiha Kagami raiding their fridge before either of them had even made it out of bed Madara thought perhaps they would need to have that chat after all.
“You understand, of course, that this is not your home and that is not your food.” He took great pleasure in watching Kagami jump with fright, slamming his head on the inside of the cupboard he’d been halfway inside. When the younger man turned around Madara scowled. Closing in on forty himself now, Kagami could hardly be called a young man anymore. This sort of thievery should be beneath him.
“I was hungry,” the brat protested. “And my house is empty.”
“Perhaps you should stock up on nonperishables before leaving for extended missions then.” Despite his own protests Madara still pulled out three plates to set the table before he began cooking.
Kagami sank down in to one of the chairs with that same old innocent grin that had first charmed Tobirama in to teaching him all those years ago. If it wasn’t for the stubble around his jaw it might actually look the same as it did back then, stupid baby-faced idiot. Madara resisted the urge to press at the wrinkles gathering around his eyes.
The two of them were bickering like parent and child when Tobirama finally made his way out of bed, absently gracing Madara with a kiss on the way passed to ruffle Kagami’s hair. He didn’t seem at all surprised to find his old student there. It was things like this that made Madara wonder if the apron strings had ever truly been cut between those two or if Tobirama even realized that he basically acted like the boy’s unofficial adoptive father. It seemed like something his husband would do, adopt a child without ever really admitted it even to himself.
After setting the tea kettle on and preparing three cups Tobirama sat down across from Kagami and chatted with him about the mission he’d just returned from. Madara listened to their chatter with one ear, nodding occasionally and snorting at the stupidity of others. When breakfast was ready he separated three portions of egg and sat down between the other two where his fading hearing could enjoy their gossip better.
It was a pleasant way to spend the morning and, despite what his grumbling would have others believe, it was one of his favorite ways to start the day. Only waking slowly to a hot mouth exploring his body could beat out the lazy contentment of spending that first hour in the company of family. Sometimes he even preferred the company of these two instead of the days when Izuna showed up to bother him. Madara loved his brother, truly he did, would never not love him, but age had not dimmed his energy levels and there were days when Madara simply could not be bothered to keep up with the man.
Getting old was supposed to be honorable and majestic. So far he found that it only made his limbs creak.
Neither his husband nor his clansman mentioned anything about him not contributing to the conversation; there wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary about him preferring to keep to himself, especially this early in the morning. Until breakfast was done he stayed quiet and concentrated on his eggs and when Kagami left he mumbled a goodbye and made sure to ruffle those insufferable curls on the way by. If he had to feel old today then someone else should have to feel unnecessarily young. It was only fair.
While Tobirama puttered around cleaning up the plates Madara watched him. He was in an oddly contemplative and whimsical mood, apparently, as he found himself asking odd questions without thinking about them first.
“Did you ever want to adopt him?” His husband paused and turned to blink in his direction.
“It never crossed my mind.”
“But if you could have would you? He was always your favorite.”
“Who knows?” Tobirama shrugged casually like it didn’t matter and turned back to the sink, running water so he could wash the dishes.
Madara scowled. “Fine. Well if you could have adopted – not Kagami, maybe, but just a child of your own choosing – would you have?”
“Didn’t we talk about this shortly after we took our vows?” Tobirama shot back.
“Answering a question with another question is cheating! You know I hate that!”
“I just don’t see what the point of your question is. If I ever did want children, well, I suppose we do have Kagami now that you point it out. And if I didn’t, great, never had to change any diapers except a couple for Hashirama’s spawn.”
Resisting the urge to smile out of habit, because the mutual dislike between Tobirama and his nephew would always be hilarious, Madara scowled harder instead. He hated not getting answers and he hated ever more when Tobirama deliberately avoided his questions.
“Just answer me!” he half-shouted.
Tobirama turned away from the sink and dried his hands on a nearby towel, taking a moment to look Madara deep in the eyes as he thought about what to say. When he finally spoke it was with the dawning light of understanding in his eyes and a step forward to grace Madara with a single soft kiss on the lips.
“The answer is yes, you have always been enough.”
“But…that wasn’t my question,” Madara protested in a very small voice.
“It’s what you were really asking.”
He didn’t really have anything to say to that. Tobirama was right, although he hadn’t even realized it himself until it was said out loud. Rather than face the implications of that he huffed and pushed his husband back towards the dishes he was supposed to be washing. It was a deal they had made very early on, that whoever cooked should be exempt from the cleanup. So far it had worked to eliminate quite a lot of fights.
“I have…things to do,” he announced.
Tobirama’s warm chuckle followed him all the way out of the house but Madara couldn’t say he minded as much as he pretended to.
-
The lights were all out when he entered but Madara was able to make out Tobirama’s profile against the massive windows on the far side of the room. Muttering under his breath about creepy idiots wandering around in the dark, he made his way over to the desk and lit the candles there with a tightly controlled fire jutsu. When he turned around Tobirama was still in the same spot looking through the window at the village below.
“What, pray tell, is so interesting that you’re still here at this time? It’s passed midnight!” He shuffled over to bring a candle to his husband, clucking in disapproval when he noted the bags under his eyes. “Don’t you understand the meaning of retirement?”
“This is my last night as Hokage,” Tobirama said.
“So that means you have to sit vigil over the office until morning? Are you worried someone might make off with it or something?”
“No. I was just wondering…what Hashirama did on his last night here.”
Madara froze. “Oh.”
Well now he just felt like an ass. Here he was scolding the man for staying up late when all he was trying to do was honor the memory of a loved one recently passed. Hashirama’s loss had rocked the entire village and no one had taken it harder yet with more grace than Tobirama had. The illness that had forced their first Hokage to retire came back to hit him hard and this time his body was too old to fight it off.
Now here Tobirama stood in the place where his elder brother had stood, ready to give up his place as his predecessor had, and Madara supposed he could see how that would leave a man in an introspective mood. If the issue at hand weren’t such a heavy one he might have cracked a joke of some sort or broken the mood with the classic grumpiness others had come to expect from him. However, even he knew better than to cross certain lines. Tobirama gifted him with a soft kiss on the temple and a grateful look when he set down the candle and wormed his way under the man’s arm.
“If memory serves,” he murmured, “he spent his last night in office trying to complete some paperwork that he’d told you was done a week before.”
“That sounds like him.” Tobirama’s eyes crinkled in a smile. It truly was unfair how free of wrinkles he was even after all this time. Madara’s theory was a deal with the devil, though he still hadn’t figured out what the devil might want in return for a wrinkle-free face.
Each slipping away in to their own thoughts for a while, the two of them stood by the window of the Hokage’s office and watched the moon trek slowly across the sky above their village. Konoha had grown in so many ways since the days when it was little more than a collection of mokuton-grown huts and dreams tied together with hope. There was so much to be proud of, so many people to be grateful for. Madara could hardly believe that once he had thought this dream a foolish childhood distraction no longer within reach. It was hard to imagine where he would be now if not in the arms of the man beside him.
Tilting his head up, he studied the way Tobirama’s face looked framed with moonlight. No age spots marred his perfectly white skin, no discoloration had touched his eyes. His nose was slightly crooked now after getting broken on a mission and not healing properly but in Madara’s eyes he was the most handsome man in all the Elemental Nations.
“Should we go home?” he asked quietly, trying to make a suggestion without letting it sound like a demand. Demands were for those who were still young enough to have the energy to back them up.
“I think I’d like to stay a little longer.” Tobirama took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “This has been my office for almost longer than it was his and yet I still feel him here every day. I hope every person who sits in that chair feels the same.”
“A bit creepy,” Madara said under his breath.
To his delight that surprised a laugh out of his husband. “I suppose you could see it as creepy.”
“Yes, I could because it is. No one wants that mug staring at them from the afterlife.” He was relieved to hear laughter again rather than the sharp intake of an offended gasp. Tobirama’s arm tightened around him and he felt another kiss press against his forehead.
“Maybe you were right. Let’s go home. Brother won’t mind if I remember him from somewhere more comfortable than a dusty office.”
“As long as you don’t remember him from our bed,” Madara tutted.
“Yes, dear.”
Nodding in satisfaction, Madara waved his hand with a small wind jutsu that he only remembered because memories made with the Sharingan lasted forever. All the candles snuffed out at once and plunged them in to total darkness but he only leaned in to his partner’s side a little more and let the man with better eyesight lead them out of the room.
Someday soon they were going to have to face the fact that they had finally reached that age where their friends and family started dying of old age rather than the battles they had all retired from years before. But…not tonight. Tonight he had a husband with warms hands to hold as they tottered off in to the chilly night. Tonight they were still alive and ready to kick ass the next day, next week, and for a few more years after that at least.
-
“I’m old.” Watching himself in the mirror as he spoke, Madara grimaced at the way his lips didn’t quite move as spryly as they used to. Once upon a time he’d had full lips with a wicked grin. Now his wrinkles had wrinkles and his lips had thinned, all shriveled up as Izuna had once teased him.
“That you are,” an amused voice agreed from just outside the room. Madara harrumphed and stormed out of the bathroom as best he could on creaky knees.
“You’re supposed to tell me I’m still handsome!”
Unrepentant, Tobirama looked him down and back up with laughter in his eyes. “You should know my views on that by now, shouldn’t you? Fishing for compliments isn’t very gentlemanly.”
He was all but chuckling to himself as he stripped out of his lounge robe and pulled on a nightshirt, still disgustingly fit and attractive despite only being a handful of years younger. Every year Madara swore that the next would catch up with his husband and every birthday proved him wrong. Still he refused to give up on the idea and continued to insist; to give up on the idea would be to give in to the accusations that he was vain and there was absolutely no way he would be admitting to that.
At least he still had better hair, though. Even if it had gone white a long time ago.
Tobirama slipped under the covers and settled on his side. When he beckoned Madara resisted just to make his point but ultimately they both knew he was going to cave. Nothing got him to sleep faster than being wrapped up in his partner’s arms and listening to that soft familiar breathing pattern, feeling the comforting drumbeat of Tobirama’s heart against his back.
Crawling under the sheets and worming his way across the mattress in to the arms waiting for him felt more like coming home then he’d ever experienced all those years he lived by himself, dragging himself back to Konoha after a long mission just to pass out alone atop cold and dusty blankets. Neither of them had been out on a mission in more than a decade and still coming home to Tobirama’s embrace felt like he had won something from the day, beaten away the shadows of what could have been.
When soft lips pressed against the back of his neck he smiled and closed his eyes, expecting his dreams to be sweet.
“I love you,” Tobirama whispered.
Madara’s eyes slowly opened again as something bubbled up in his chest, foreign yet familiar, never named though it had been growing there for probably longer than he realized.
“I love you too,” he whispered back, awed by how much he meant it. Behind him Tobirama gave a sharp intake of breath and Madara realized suddenly that he was grinning like a fool. Just to feel the words again he repeated himself, “I love you.”
“You mean that.” Tobirama’s voice was filled with wonder and choked with tears that Madara simply didn’t have the heart to tease him for.
“Saying that if I didn’t mean it would be a special kind of cruel.”
The arms around him tightened and Tobirama burrowed in to him. Madara recognized the signs denoting one of the rare times when his husband was beyond words, moved so deeply he simply couldn’t speak. He was rather moved himself to finally realize such an incredible feeling and yet at the same time…
“I’m sorry,” he said, “that it took me so long.”
“No, don’t be sorry. If you never said the words – if you never felt this way – I would have loved you no less. I would not have been unhappy with what I have.”
Madara swallowed thickly and read between the lines easily enough. If he had never returned Tobirama’s love there would have been no regrets but that he did return it made things different in the best of ways. Pressed together like they were he could feel the thundering of the man’s heartbeat echoing his own, perfectly in sync the way they had been since the day they married. It was useless to wonder if there was anything either of them could have done differently that maybe would have opened his eyes to the possibilities earlier or even if he was simply meant to fall now after so many years.
Rather than waste time on any of that Madara turned his head and smiled in to the darkness over his shoulder.
“I love you,” he whispered one more time. Tobirama didn’t answer with more than a light squeeze but he didn’t have to; his feelings had been made clear a long time ago.
Silence fell but it was not an empty silence, the minimal space between them filled with understanding and more emotions than either of them were properly equipped to process. Madara had a feeling that he wouldn’t be getting to sleep any time soon but a little rest lost hadn’t killed him yet. Laying awake in his husband’s arms was far from torture.
Tobirama seemed to agree as he laid a row of soft kisses across the back of Madara’s shoulder, still not speaking but making his point perfectly clear. Madara hummed and rolled over on his back just to keep rolling to the other side where he could shuffle up under the other man’s chin. It amazed him that such an emotional moment hadn’t been marred by his habit of flailing over anything that even smelled like emotions, though he supposed that maybe it was finally being able to accept the feeling that had allowed him to recognize and express it.
Finally, he thought to himself with amusement, finally he was growing up. Tobirama was absolutely going to be smug about taking the credit for this. And after all the years he had waited Madara supposed he could let his husband have this one. He’d earned it, after all. If not for his whimsical question on a sunny afternoon none of this would have ever been possible.