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There really wasn’t much in the world that could surprise Madara at this point. He’d lived through war, seen death and fire and natural disasters, seen the creation of a whole new world order and had even helped bulldoze it forward when so many thought it wouldn’t last.
So the fact that the sight of his own boyfriend had him taken aback, coffee mug steaming away in his hand practically forgotten as he watched the man stumble about his own kitchen as if he wasn’t sure where he was.
“Uuuuhhh.” Could’ve probably said something more intelligent but Madara was at a bit of a loss, and Tobirama didn’t even react to the noise anyway. Just. Went about his way, patting around at the cabinets in search of presumably the latches on them. Then he just opened one and nearly threw himself off balance from the effort, and ended up standing there for several minutes considering only the gods knew what while Madara continued to stare at him.
Was he drunk? High? Madara stepped forward and tried to get a peek at Tobirama’s face. If he was drunk he’d probably be able to smell the alcohol on him from the front door (which, yes, he entered without knocking, but why else would Tobirama have given him a damned key if he didn’t expect him to use it), and he didn’t really smell anything gross or rotten about.
“Looking for something?”
Tobirama took a few seconds to answer him, listing to the left a bit in a way that made Madara honestly worried he might fall over. But eventually he turned his head just enough to blink over at him - and when Madara saw just how horrid he looked he nearly chocked on the shock.
“Good gods, when was the last time you slept?”
The zombified Senju cocked his head ever so slowly, barely able to focus on the person right in front of him, and Madara could practically hear the gears creaking in that genius head as if they hadn’t been oiled in years.
“Pretzels.” That utter nonsense was the first word Tobirama managed to slur out, and Madara almost went back on his thoughts to reconsider the drunk option. But even up close he couldn’t smell any alcohol on his breath - though he also couldn’t catch a whiff of any sense in his statement.
“Pretzels. That’s not...a very common measurement of time.”
Tobirama shook his head but he didn’t really look certain of what he was shaking it for, going back to staring at his spice cabinet as if he had no idea what was in there. “Out of sodium.”
Considering the nice sized bowl of salt in his cabinet, Madara assumed the sodium had something to do with the pretzels and not his lack of table salt. Either way, he sat his coffee down on the counter, patting the man’s shoulder and doing his best to ignore how Tobirama jumped from it.
“You’ll have to stay out of sodium because it’s bedtime.”
“But- my solution-”
Madara pushed his boyfriend away from the kitchen despite his babble about whatever research he’d clearly been doing for far too long without a break, determined to get him tucked in and let biology do the rest. At least with him this far gone he couldn’t put up much of a fight, though Madara did end up having to put the toothpaste on his brush for him lest waste even more precious sleep time for the overworking fool.
Almost as soon as the man’s head hit the pillow he konked out at least. Madara brushed his bangs out of his face, wincing at the dark circles under his eyes. Guess that meant surprising him for lunch would have to come some other time, but it also explained why he hadn’t seen him for a few days. Even on vacation the man simply didn’t stop.
Which, of course, meant it was up to him to make sure he took a break. Of course it was. Madara leaned back against the wall as he sat down on the futon, staring up at the ceiling as if his self-appointed mission really was some dark fate that had befallen him. Forever the carer of idiots, mainly those of the Senju bloodline.
At least this Senju came with the benefit of cuddles, though Madara would be quite firmly settled into his wooden onesie before he’d ever admit that was the bonus he most looked forward to in their time together.