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Izuna tapped on his brother’s door, then stepped inside without waiting for a response. He paused just inside, finding Madara, Sharingan active, staring intently at a deep blue parcel on his desk.
“. . .Aniki?” Izuna questioned, closing the door and approaching his brother. “What are you doing?”
Madara huffed and looked up, his eyes fading black. He winced a little. “I’m trying to discern how to disarm this . . . trap. Bomb. Whatever it is.” He frowned, looking back at the neatly-tied furoshiki.
Izuna eyed it as well. Madara poked it with the back end of a kunai.
“It looks like a present to me.” Izuna said slowly. He tried to hide a smirk. “A birthday present, perhaps, Aniki?” he pointed out. He had given Madara his own gift over breakfast, and he knew their cousin had yesterday, before leaving the village on a mission. Some of their clanmates might try to track him down to give him gifts themselves today or over the next few days, though Madara always insisted they didn’t need to.
“Ah, it might look that way,” Madara said, sniffing, “but it is from Senju Tobirama, so it’s clearly some manner of trap in disguise. I just . . . haven’t figured out how, yet. But I will! And I’ll disarm it and beat him at this little-” Madara dropped into muttering.
Izuna licked his lips, brows arching as he watched his brother poke at the present again, not touching it with his bare hands.
“Ah, Izuna-san! May I . . . ask your advice? On a personal matter?”
Izuna’s eyes widened, and he wasn’t quite sure he trusted that, but he nodded and stepped into Tobirama’s office. “What do you need, Sen- Tobirama-san?”
Tobirama’s lips twitched at the almost-stumble over his name, but he didn’t mention it. “Your brother,” he began, and Izuna tensed, not reaching for any of his weapons but mentally categorising where he wore them, “his birthday is soon, is it not? Could you. . . Would you advise me as to what he might appreciate as a token on the occasion?”
Izuna stared silently.
Izuna cleared his throat. “Don’t you think,” he began, remembering that incredibly strange conversation with Tobirama, “it would be rather unwise of him to try a trick like that? Not to mention strange, after he’s put so much effort into working on this village you wanted so badly . . . and working with you.”
“Senju are suspicious, sneaky, and dangerous.” Madara said absently, Sharingan active again.
Izuna rolled his eyes. “Most ninja are. Or they’re dead.” he added dryly.
He watched Madara fiddle with the present for a while longer - still without making a single move to touch it without the buffer of the kunai in hand, let alone unwrap it. He sighed.
“May I make a suggestion?” he asked, coming closer and leaning over the desk.
“What- Izuna!” Madara yelped, snagging Izuna around the waist and knocking the breath from him before they had even hit the floor, Madara blocking Izuna’s body with his own. It was sweet, and stupid, and entirely unnecessary.
“Madara!” Izuna protested breathlessly, shoving at his brother.
“. . .where’s the trap?” Madara asked, lifting his head, looking genuinely puzzled. He climbed up off of Izuna, giving him an apologetic look and helping him up, mostly focused on the present atop his desk.
The furoshiki was loose now, but it still wrapped fully around the present inside.
Madara reached out tentatively and Izuna pulled the kunai from his hand. “For fuck’s sake, Aniki, it’s a present, not a trap or an explosive.” he said, and Madara frowned, but pulled the fabric apart, revealing a very nice set of brushes and a blue-black inkstick. It was pressed in the shape of a stooping falcon, with the pattern of Madara’s Mangekyou in relief on its breast.
Izuna had expected something of the kind, he knew what advice he had given Tobirama, but his eyes still widened at the present. This was. . . This was more than he had expected, in every respect.
Madara brushed his fingers over the inkstick, then picked up one of the brushes. There was a little lacquered uchiwa inset in the butt, and the black handle shimmered purple as the light hit it.
Madara lifted his head, his brows drawn together. “This is . . . a very nice present.” he said softly. “And it’s very . . . thoughtful. Why. . .” he trailed off.
“Why were you so sure it was a trap, Aniki?” Izuna asked gently. “You’ve been working with Tobirama for months, soon a year. Did you really think he would try to kill you? Try to hurt you?”
Madara opened his mouth, then closed it, looking away. “No.” he admitted after a moment. “But- But this is. . .”
“What? A nice present?” Izuna said, though the understatement actually pained him.
“It is. Senju Tobirama gave me. . . The Demon-Ghost Senju, and he. . .” Madara looked up at Izuna, eyes dark and unsure, mouth twisted. “He’s not just the Demon-Ghost Senju, he’s Tobirama, and he chose these for me, they’re thoughtful and,” he paused, a faint flush rising in his cheeks, “why would he give me a birthday present?” he asked Izuna, looking lost again.
Izuna stared at him for a moment. “. . .I wonder.”
“We’ve been working together, maybe, but- He hates me!” Madara said, gesturing broadly with one hand. He was careful, Izuna saw, hiding a smile, not to bump the present on his desk.
“Mm, does he really?” Izuna asked, shifting his weight. “I wouldn’t have said so before, and now. . .”
“I don’t even know when his birthday is!” Madara said, and Izuna blinked. “Izuna! When is Tobirama’s birthday?” he demanded, suddenly loud.
Izuna leaned back a little. “Why should I know?” he asked, and Madara let out a thin sound of distress. He sighed. “It is nine days after mine. You have plenty of time to consider and choose a present for him, if you wish.”
“I- That’s not what I meant.” Madara said, but his faint flush was deepening, bit by bit, even as he turned away to focus on the unwrapped bundle.
“In the meantime,” Izuna said, clasping his brother’s arm - he reflexively tightened his grip on the present, Izuna saw, amused, “you should go thank him.” he suggested.
Madara stiffened, paling, his eyes wide. “I- No! I can’t do that!”
“He’s right across the hall,” Izuna pointed out, dragging Madara sideways from behind his desk, “take that pleased look you had on a minute ago and march across to thank him for his very thoughtful present.”
“No! I- I have things to do! Important things!” Madara protested as Izuna hauled him towards the door. “Paperwork! A land survey! Dinner! I was going to work on the mending!”
Izuna stifled a laugh and knocked on Tobirama’s door.
“Enter!” Tobirama called, and Izuna opened it, even more amused as Madara fell abruptly silent mid-protest.
“Here you go, Aniki!” Izuna said, and shoved Madara into Tobirama’s office without even a flicker of regret. He slammed the door shut and hurriedly slapped a seal on it. “He really likes his present, Tobirama-san! Here’s a surprise for you, early! Sorry I couldn’t put a bow on him, and please lock the door from that side before you unwrap him!”
“Izuna!” Madara bellowed, rattling the walls right through the sound dampening seals on Tobirama’s office. Izuna ran for it, leaving them to it . . . whatever they might get up to in there. He tried not to think about it.
“Does that mean I can’t unwrap you?”
Madara choked, then wheezed as he tried to catch his breath, spinning to face Tobirama, who was standing near his desk, head tilted slightly to one side. Despite the snow and harsh wind outside, he was wearing his usual short-sleeved yukata-style shirt, gaping open past his collarbones.
“It- It’s my birthday.” Madara said faintly. “Shouldn’t I be doing the unwrapping?”
“Yes. Izuna said you like your present?” Tobirama said at the same time.
Madara realised belatedly what had come out of his mouth and felt heat suffusing his cheeks. “Oh kami.” he breathed.
Tobirama blinked, bright eyes focusing sharply on Madara’s face, then beginning to darken. “I did give you your present already,” he said, and Madara hugged it reflexively to himself, smiling slightly, “I’m pleased you like it,” Tobirama added, and Madara ducked his head, “but I can be generous, if that is what you would like.”
“Thank you for the- Wait, what?” Madara asked, frowning slightly.
Tobirama’s lips curled. “If you wish to unwrap me.”
Madara’s eyes widened and he nearly dropped his lovely new brushes. Tobirama pulled the furoshiki from his hands and put the bundle on the desk behind him.
“Unwrap . . . you.” Madara said, and coughed thinly.
“. . .it wasn’t an expectation.” Tobirama said softly, his smile fading into a more serious expression. “I was teasing. You did say- Well, your brother.” His lips quirked briefly as he huffed a soft laugh. “I didn’t expect anything save that - I hoped - you would like your present.” He paused, stepping sideways and gesturing at the bundle on his desk. “That one.” he specified, a little wry.
“I do, very much, thank you.” Madara said, inclining his head, then huffed. “I simply didn’t expect to be offered-” He broke off, flushing. “Without even a kiss?” he demanded, with a spark of distressed, offended disappointment.
Tobirama stilled, eyes widening, and Madara grumbled, looking away.
He startled when callused fingertips brushed his cheek gently, and looked back up at Tobirama, who had come closer. Tobirama’s eyes were soft now. “Madara.” he said, his voice equally soft, his tone even warmer than the look in his eyes. “If you would like kisses from me. . .”
“Not for a birthday present.” Madara said, setting his jaw, though a tiny part of him he had been staunchly ignoring - possibly for far longer than this morning, though he refused to acknowledge that - protested turning down this offer. “Not- Not like that.”
“You may have as many kisses as you wish. Whenever you wish. Not because it is your birthday, but because,” Tobirama’s voice faltered, and he ducked his head, his fringe half-hiding his eyes, “because I would like very much to give them.”
Madara looked at him for a moment, wrong-footed. Tobirama made a soft sound and stepped back, looking away, shoulders stiffening, and Madara-
“Oh.” Madara said, and hurriedly reached for Tobirama. “Oh, I- Tobirama-”
“You needn’t feel-”
“Yes. Please.” Madara said softly, stroking Tobirama’s cheek as their eyes met again, breath catching with a shivery hitch. “I would very much like kisses from you. So many kisses. If you wish to-” he hesitated, taking a breath.
He didn’t continue, as Tobirama leaned close, then paused, fierce, brilliant eyes meeting Madara’s. Madara couldn’t find his own words again. Tobirama closed his eyes and closed the tiny distance between himself and Madara, his mouth warm and soft against Madara’s as they made contact, his fingers curling gently against the base of Madara’s neck.
Madara moaned softly, nuzzling into the kiss and letting his hand slide down from Tobirama’s arm to his waist, then wrapping an arm around him. Tobirama made a low, throaty sound that sent tingles up Madara’s spine, melting obligingly into the light tug and stroking Madara’s lip with his tongue.
Madara’s toes curled and he nipped lightly at Tobirama’s mouth, grinning as Tobirama pulled back with a soft, startled sound, his breath hitching. He smiled back, eyes gone darker, and kissed Madara again, winding two fingers into his hair and stroking his cheek with a thumb. Madara purred and leaned into the caress, and opened his mouth as Tobirama cradled his jaw with one hand, tongue curling invitingly against his own.
Madara sank into the kiss, feeling warm and shivery, reaching up to slide a hand over Tobirama’s shoulder as he pressed teasingly deeper then withdrew quickly. Tobirama made a rough little sound that sparked a shivery feeling in the pit of Madara’s stomach, and he made to do it again.
Tobirama’s grip in his hair tightened before he could, deepening the kiss himself and holding Madara close. He hardly minded, moaning and clinging a little more tightly to Tobirama to stabilise himself, pressing in close.
He broke away with a soft choking sound as his erection pressed up against Tobirama, jerking back a step, flushing. He realised, a moment later, that he’d felt Tobirama’s cock hard against him in return.
Tobirama licked his lips, uncurling his fingers and releasing the lock of Madara’s hair that had been wrapped around them. He looked . . . rumpled. Madara felt rumpled. He felt his face warming a little more, and reached up to push the stray lock of his hair Tobirama had just let loose back even as he ducked his head, hiding his face a little.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to unwrap me?” Tobirama asked, arching an eyebrow and shifting his weight, bracing his hands on his desk behind himself. Madara’s eyes dropped to where the hem of his shirt was hiding the erection Madara was sure he had felt and swallowed a whine.
“Yes.” Madara said breathlessly.
“Well then,” Tobirama said, tilting his head, “you are-”
“No! I mean, no, I don’t-” Madara rubbed his face with one hand. “I don’t want to . . . not like this?” he said weakly.
Tobirama frowned slightly, and Madara winced. “I’m sorry?”
“You,” Tobirama laughed quietly, a smile softening his sharp features once more, “want more than just to unwrap me?” he questioned lightly.
Madara swallowed thickly. “Yes. That is what I would. . . If-” He broke off, startled, as Tobirama leaned forwards and caught the front of his shirt, pulling him in close.
“I would have been happy for you to unwrap me,” Tobirama said, stroking Madara’s hair and down to cup his shoulder, “but I admit . . . I am far happier that you would like more than that.”
Madara relaxed, smiling, and Tobirama rubbed their noses together, a gentle affectionate gesture that made Madara’s heart squeeze. “Are more kisses all-”
Madara leaned up to kiss him and he made a startled sound, then hummed happily, wrapping his arms around Madara and holding him close. They traded more long, heated, lingering kisses, and Madara tried to ignore the throb of his arousal even as each kiss and light caress intensified it.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been lost in Tobirama’s kisses - though he could happily have remained just like this for far longer - when they were interrupted by the door rattling, then a loud knock. Madara jumped, looking around at it.
“Tobi! Are you in there?”
Madara winced, pressing closer to Tobirama by reflex as Hashirama’s voice cut effortlessly through the closed door.
Tobirama hummed, stroking his back. “What is it, Anija?” he called back, and Madara shivered under his hand.
“Otouto! Have you seen Madara? His office is empty. . .” Hashirama called. “Are you busy?”
“Well, I-”
Madara grabbed Tobirama’s shirt. “No.” he whispered intensely, suddenly remembering Mito’s warning a few days ago.
Tobirama looked at him. “I spoke with him earlier. Why did you want him?”
“You can’t tell him!” Hashirama cried, and Madara winced, sighing. “I’ll keep looking. It’s a surprise!”
“. . .good luck, Anija.” Tobirama returned, lips twitching. “What-”
Madara dropped his brow to rest on Tobirama’s shoulder. “I really, deeply do not wish to go to his ridiculous surprise party.” he muttered as he sensed Hashirama setting off down the corridor again.
“. . .surprise party?” Tobirama repeated, arm tightening around Madara.
“Madara-san, may I speak with you?”
Madara looked up, startled. “Of course, Mito-san.” He stood, gesturing her inside. “What may I do for you?”
Mito smiled slightly as she took the seat opposite his desk. “Thank you, but I need nothing. I came to,” she paused, then her smile turned almost . . . rueful? “warn you.”
Madara tensed. “Warn me? Warn me of what?”
“My husband has a plan.” Mito said dryly, and Madara tried not to wince visibly. “Indeed. He wishes to surprise you with a celebration on your birthday. I,” she paused, sighing, “thought it unwise. And also, perhaps, not enjoyable for you.”
“No.” Madara agreed before he thought better of it. “Ah. . .”
“I cannot blame you,” Mito said, arching a brow, “I would not find such a surprise enjoyable myself. I might not be able to dissuade Hashirama from his idea, but I could at least alert you in advance.”
“Thank you.” Madara said sincerely, rising as Mito did.
“Apparently Hashirama intends to surprise me for my birthday this evening.” Madara said, cringing and pressing a little harder against Tobirama’s shoulder.
“With a party? Ah. . .” Tobirama’s hand smoothed over his side and hip. “Do you want to- You said you wished you could avoid it?”
“I do, but he’ll track me down somehow if I don’t show up where he expects me.” Madara sighed. He knew his friend very well. Even if he occasionally wondered why he was friends with the aggravating man.
“Ah.” Tobirama shifted, nuzzling his hair, and Madara, aggravated as he was, couldn’t quite hold on to all of his upset. He wound his arms around Tobirama’s waist and leaned into his embrace. Even if he had no way to avoid Hashirama’s idea of a party - and kami only knew what manner of surprises he would have waiting for Madara - today was proving . . . one of his better birthdays, he thought, flushing.
“Would you,” Tobirama paused, fingers splaying wider on Madara’s back and head bowing closer into his hair, “like to spend the evening with me?” he asked tentatively.
Madara lifted his head, surprised. “I . . . would like to spend more time with you.”
“If we retreated to my lab . . . my brother is terrified to come in it; he wouldn’t find you there.” Tobirama said, and Madara’s eyes widened. “If you would like that. If you haven’t any plans already, given it is the evening of your birthday.”
“Yes. Please, I would like that very much.” Madara said, then paused and shook his head. “And no, I had no plans for this evening. Even if Hashirama wouldn’t run right across them with his own, had I made any.” he added wryly.
“Unfortunately all too likely.” Tobirama agreed, sighing.
“Your brother is really afraid of your lab?” Madara asked, tilting his head to one side and curling his fingers into Tobirama’s sash. “Why?”
“He’s strange?” Tobirama suggested, lips tugging towards a smile.
“Very.” Madara laughed. “I would like to spend the evening with you . . . in this incredibly Hashirama-proof place you say we might retreat to. . .” Tobirama laughed, thumb brushing Madara’s cheek, and he impulsively tugged Tobirama down and kissed him softly.
“I look forward to it.” Tobirama said, and nipped Madara gently. “Do you remember where to find my lab? I do, unfortunately, have one or two things I must finish up today.”
“So do I.” Madara admitted, shaking himself. He had forgotten. “And yes, I believe so.” He had never been there, but he had studied Konoha’s maps until he saw them behind his eyes almost constantly when they were laying out the village and beginning to build, and even now. “I’ll meet you there?”
Tobirama kissed him, hand sliding free of his hair and trailing down his back, fingertips brushing his neck. “I look forward to it.” he said again, warm and rumbling.
Madara shivered, but pulled himself away after only a few more . . . soft . . . lingering kisses. He licked his lips, catching his breath. “Oh, and Tobirama . . . thank you for the present. They’re lovely.” He collected his beautiful new brushes and ink from Tobirama’s desk and trailed his fingers down Tobirama’s arm as he stepped away.
“You’re welcome.” Tobirama said, his eyes warm.
Omake:
Madara made his way up the steps to his own door happily distracted, mind full of thin, smiling lips, and bright red eyes gone soft and warm, and a low, rumbling voice, and. . .
Madara’s own smile grew. And kisses. Wonderful, long, sweet kisses, and gentle fingers wound into his hair, and almost better, long talks; getting to know Tobirama better and finding . . . that even beyond being thoughtful and clever and . . . brilliant with his kisses, he wanted many of the same things Madara did.
Madara had been tempted to unwrap him - so very tempted, there in his office, even before they had retreated to the surprisingly comfortable lounge in Tobirama’s private lab - but he was even happier with what he had instead.
“Well ohayou, Aniki.”
Madara startled, turning to find Izuna at the table. He glanced back at the window reflexively, but it was still barely after dawn. He looked back at his brother, eyebrows raised. “Ohayou. . .” he said slowly, suspicious.
“What have you been up to all night?” Izuna asked, waggling his eyebrows and gesturing with his spoon.
Madara scowled. “I was with Tobirama.” he said, which Izuna had, he felt, probably known, though he hadn’t seen his brother to tell Izuna he would be out late.
“Ohhh? Did he like his present?” Izuna asked, grin widening.
“It’s not his birthday. Yet.” Madara said, flushing.
“Solstice was a few days ago. . .” Izuna said leadingly. “Or you could call it a thank you present. . . Or-”
“There was no present!” Madara said firmly.
“Aniki, I saw the present. It was very nice,” Izuna looked more serious for a moment, “I didn’t know he liked you quite that much.”
Madara’s stomach fluttered and he turned his back quickly, moving to the cabinet for something to do with his hands. “It- It is a very nice present. Tobirama is. . .”
“Very nice?” Izuna finished, and Madara felt himself flushing.
“. . .yes.” Madara admitted.
“And you really didn’t-”
“No!” Madara snapped, turning to face his brother again. Izuna raised his hands, one still holding his spoon, and actually looked a little contrite. Madara sighed. “Not yet. He’s. . . I want. . .”
“You didn’t know you liked him that much, either?” Izuna suggested more gently, and Madara swallowed, then nodded. “That’s good, Aniki.” He looked flustered. “I mean-”
Madara laughed. “It is good.” he agreed happily. Then he smirked, raising his eyebrows at Izuna. “Are you sure you should be up this early? You never do function terribly well at this hour.”
Izuna gestured rudely and picked up his bowl of soup, and Madara shook his head, moving to pour a cup of tea for himself and see what his brother had left him for breakfast.