Chapter Text
Madara was a man who tended to face whatever life threw at him with everything he had. He had suffered through years of law school, through countless hours of studying and forcing himself to be the top of his class. Things seemed to fall into place after he passed the bar exam, taking over what had once been his father’s firm. While his cousins were marrying and beginning families, he was a ruthless terror in court, undefeatable.
At least, he was, until life gave him an unexpected shock that came in the form of his closest cousin as messenger.
“What do you mean, ‘he’s mine’?” Madara snarled, glaring down at his cousin.
“He’s yours,” Naori said, shifting the baby in her arms. “I got a call not too long ago from some woman who said he’s yours, and she signed off her parental rights. We can order a test if you don’t believe me, but he’s definitely an Uchiha, and he looks just like you,”
The words sank in, his heart stopped for a brief second.
A DNA test determined that yes, the baby definitely was his, Madara assuming full custody. A short fling that he had honestly forgotten about apparently ended with the infant, now tucked safely into Madara’s arms.
“I have no idea how to take care of a baby,” Madara said, watching as Naori did a quick check around his house. “The baby can barely move on his own, I don’t see why you have to plug all of my outlets with those stupid plastic things,”
“He’s four months old, Madara,” Naori huffed. “Babies get into things. And he has a name, you know,”
Madara looked down at the baby in his arms, feeling a swell of affection towards the infant that looked an awful lot like the baby pictures he had of himself. The baby blinked wide, curious black eyes up at him, opening his mouth and cooing.
“Obito is a stupid name,” Madara said. “I would have named him something better,”
“Well, it’s his, so call him by his name,” Naori let out a content sigh. “I’m not babysitting for free. Baru isn’t, either, and don’t you dare try to rope in Hikaku,”
“You all are the worst cousins I’ve ever had the displeasure of being related to,”
Naori shrugged.
“You reap what you sow,” she said, grabbing her bag before heading to the door. “Welcome to fatherhood, Madara,”
She slammed the door behind her, leaving them alone, and Madara, for the first time in a while, was genuinely scared.
The first few months of parenting went rocky. Madara wasn’t used to caring for something that wasn’t himself, especially something as weak and feeble as a baby. Obito was fussy when Madara tried working from home, balancing the baby in his lap while typing away on his laptop, trying to get any semblance of work done. Bringing Obito to the office was usually the best option, since the baby slept while his secretary got to coo over how cute he was as Madara worked. Obito also was fond of trying to get himself injured, like trying to roll of the changing table, shrieking with laughter after Madara caught him, nearly giving his father a heart attack. He was also a loud baby. He recently realized that he could scream just for the fun of it, shrieking his loud baby babble to alert his father that he had yet again knocked the bowl of baby food from his high chair when Madara got up from his seat to heat up his coffee.
“Obito,” he groaned, picking up the now dirty spoon and bowl. “You made a mess,”
Obito smacked at the tray of his high chair, letting out another long string of baby babble.
Madara couldn’t deny how much he did genuinely love his baby, even if Obito sometimes spit up on his dress shirts right before he had to go to work. However, he was also looking forward to when Obito would be older and a bit more independent. Changing diapers was getting tiresome.
“Well, this is something I thought I’d never see,” Izuna said, leaning against Madara’s counter, a cup of coffee in hand. “I don’t see you for a semester and suddenly I have a nephew? Shame on you, big brother, for not telling me!”
“I’ve been busy,” Madara said, searching around to make sure he packed Obito’s favorite pacifier. “I was going to call, but you seemed busy,”
“Busy doing nothing!” Izuna cried.
“You’re busy with school!”
“Yeah, doing nothing!”
Madara narrowed his eyes, placing Obito into his car seat, thankful that his son was sound asleep.
“Then why am I paying your tuition?”
Izuna shrugged, looking down at his sleeping nephew. Obito gripped a toy fan in one chubby little fist, the other in his mouth.
“Aww, look at you,” Izuna cooed. “Are you trying to eat your fingers in your sleep?”
“Don’t,” Madara shielded Obito. “Don’t talk to him like he’s an idiot,”
“He’s a baby, Mads. What, do you read him your boring case files? He’ll be two speaking like he’s some little diplomat. ‘Why, hello Father. I would like to have some brie with my snack of goldfish crackers,’ geez, Madara,”
Madara rolled his eyes, grabbing his shoulder bag now turned diaper bag.
“Let’s just go to this stupid family reunion already,”
Madara hadn’t seen most of his family outside of Naori, who happened to work in social services and he saw her through work, and Izuna whenever he came home to visit from college. He dreaded family reunions, and since his father died, he had become the one who was usually tasked to host them. Thankfully, he had asked Hikaku to do it, cashing in on a favor from when they were teens and Hikaku had gotten into trouble with the law and Madara somehow managed to sweettalk the officers into letting him go. That little incident was what had actually made Madara realize his potential to be a lawyer.
They were all meeting at Hikaku’s home, and Madara, as technical family patriarch since his father passed, was instantly regretting it.
“Is that your baby?” his younger cousin, Mikoto asked as she peered into Obito’s car seat. “He’s so little! Can I hold him?”
Madara looked down at her, his favorite cousin. She was only his favorite since she was eleven and not as annoying as she possibly could be, and when she had been three she had declared him her favorite cousin out of all of them. In all the years he’d seen her grow, she had never been a troublesome kid.
Her friend, however, was.
“Can I hold the baby, too?” Kushina asked, more shouting than actual talking. Kushina had been Mikoto’s best friend since preschool, the two attached to the hip.
“Only if you sit down,” Madara reasoned, watching the redhead as she bounced up and down. “And you have to stay still,”
“Okay!” Kushina plopped herself down on the couch beside Mikoto. Madara unbuckled Obito out of his car seat, jostling the sleeping infant slightly. Obito made a noise, blinking open his eyes at the new people around him as Madara passed him gently to Mikoto.
“He’s so cute,” she said.
“Of course he is. He’s my son,” Madara said proudly.
“Nah, he’s only cute ’cause he’s a baby, ya know,” Kushina said.
He didn’t like Kushina much, but then again, she was still a kid.
He could let it slide just this once.
“Look at Dad of the Year over here,” Hikaku joked, coming to stand behind Madara. He laughed as Madara stiffened, not liking anyone at his back. “C’mere. Naori made inari for you. Take a little break, the girls are perfectly capable of watching Obito,”
Madara was in the middle of a Uchiha family argument when he heard the sound of Obito beginning to fuss.
An Uchiha family reunion was never complete without an argument, and Izuna happened to bring up politics which then divulged into differences of opinions on practically anything and everything, which resulted in Naori threatening to throw an expensive vase at him for being a little shit and Hikaku resigning himself to the corner with Madara as he drank throughout the argument. Kagami tried being the voice of reason, his attempt to mediate futile as Naori slammed her hands down onto the countertop, seething with rage as she argued with Izuna over family matters. Baru just sat back and winced every time his wife’s voice peaked, hesitant to stop Naori from all but leaping over the counter and strangling Izuna.
Mikoto came walking into the kitchen slowly, Obito beginning to fuss and push his way away from her, one little fist tugging on her hair. If it hurt, she made a good point to not show it, but the look on her face was a silent plea for help.
“Here,” she handed him off to Madara, turning and heading back to Kushina. Oh, how Madara missed the days where he could just hand a crying or smelly infant off to it’s parent and flee.
Now he was that parent, and even though he absolutely hated changing diapers and dealing with messes in general, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Big brother?” Izuna called out, tiptoeing around Hikaku’s house. Everyone had ended up falling asleep at some point or another, Izuna having to step over Kushina and Mikoto fast asleep in a pile on the living room floor, a board game out in front of them. Hikaku fell asleep outside on his porch, lounging in his chair. Naori was asleep at the table, head down with her emptied wine glass next to her. Kagami was snoring on the couch, slumped against one of their other cousins. Baru had curled himself up into the recliner, a blanket haphazardly thrown on him.
All Izuna could find were aunts, uncles, cousins, but no Madara.
He pushed open the door to the guest bedroom, smiling at the sight before him.
Madara was asleep sitting up on the bed, back resting against the headboard. Obito was clinging to his shirt, drooling onto his shoulder where he slept. It looked like Madara had been reading him a book, and from what Izuna could barely make out in the dimly lit room, it was something wordy and definitely boring.
He never expected he’d be an uncle. Madara was the type to sneer at parents with kids, since he had thought they were all money-grubbing hellions that were a curse to unfortunate souls. Now, watching his brother hold his son close even in his sleep, he realized that maybe his brother did have a soft spot after all.
Izuna snapped a quick picture on his phone, something he’d send Madara later.
He also would neglect to comment once he noticed it later became his elder brother’s phone wallpaper.
2.
Obito crept down the hall from his room as stealthily as a three year old could be, sliding in through the cracked door and into Madara’s room.
Madara was passed out in bed, still dressed in his slacks and dress shirt from work the day before. His hair fell over his face like a curtain, and Obito scrambled up the bed to pull his hair from his eyes.
“Daddy, wake up,” Obito said, not so gently patting at Madara’s cheeks.
Madara groaned, pressing his face into the pillow for a moment until he realized he couldn’t breathe. His nose felt stuffed to the brim with what felt like cotton, his head and chest ached, his whole body felt drained of energy.
“Obito,” he said, sniffling. “Dad doesn’t feel well. Can you get my phone?”
“Okay,” Obito patted around the bed before he retrieved Madara’s phone, quickly unlocking it.
“Call Uncle Izuna,” Madara said, holding out his hand and making the motion to grab for it. Obito knew how to look for Izuna’s contact, clicking the button to connect the call. Obito clicked the speakerphone button, holding the phone over towards Madara.
“Hello?” Izuna sounded too chipper for six in the morning.
“I’m sick,” Madara whined. “I need you to watch Obito,”
“Only for my favorite nephew,”
“He’s your only nephew,” Madara bit out. “Are you coming or not?”
“Is the door unlocked?”
“I can unlock it,”
“See you in a few, then,”
“Bye,”
“Bye,”
Izuna slipped his shoes off the minute he shut the door behind him. He heard the familiar pitter patter of his nephew barreling down the hall, Obito nearly slipping into Izuna.
“Whoa, there, cruiser,” Izuna caught Obito, preventing him from falling flat on his face on the hard wood floor. “Where’s Dad?”
“Sleeping,” Obito said. “He said his tummy hurts,”
Izuna smiled down at his nephew, seeing the genuine concern written across his face.
“Want to make him feel better, kiddo?” Izuna asked, watching Obito’s face light up. “Alright. Get dressed, and we’ll head on out,”
Izuna walked up the stairs to Madara’s bedroom as Obito ran back to the kitchen, where he must have thrown off his shoes the day prior. The door to Madara’s room was open, revealing that yes, his undefeatable brother was curled up in bed, dead to the world, a bottle of cold syrup sitting on his nightstand. He must have just taken it shortly before Izuna came, especially since he had left his apartment not even ten minutes prior.
“Ready!” Obito shouted from downstairs.
Izuna shut off the light and the door silently, creeping back downstairs.
“Can we take Daddy’s car?” Obito asked, jumping up and down.
Izuna eyed Madara’s car keys to his BMW, then the keys to his Prius.
Slamming his keys down, he picked up his brother’s, knowing that he wouldn’t mind if Izuna took it for just a simple trip to the grocery store.
“C’mon, kiddo. Let’s go,”
Obito was always a ball of energy, and no matter how much coffee Izuna had that morning, he felt like he couldn’t keep up.
In the two seconds it took Izuna to grab a grocery basket and put his reusable bag in it, making sure his wallet was in his pocket, Obito had run off over to the vegetables, standing up on his toes to look at the peppers.
“Can we get Daddy spicy ones?” he asked, looking up at Izuna with his eyes wide. Izuna stifled a giggle, the goggles his nephew insisted on wearing casting an orange shine across his face.
“I don’t think Dad likes spicy ones, babes,” Izuna ruffled his hair. “Here, I’ll let you hold the ginger, okay?”
“Okay!” Obito nodded, watching as Izuna grabbed a large piece of ginger root. He handed it to Obito, his nephew holding it in his grasp as if it were a precious jewel.
“If you’re good,” Izuna said, watching Obito’s face light up. “I’ll buy you some candy, but you can’t tell Dad, and we have to eat it in the car,”
Obito nodded furiously, following after his uncle as they traversed the grocery store. He hummed to himself, something that vaguely sounded like the theme song to one of his preschool shows he watched.
Izuna was busy looking at his list and a package of chicken when someone he hadn’t seen in years approached him, startling him into dropping the package in his hands.
“Izuna?”
“Tobirama?” Izuna raised an eyebrow. “Holy shit, man. It’s been ages,”
“Still as vulgar as ever,” Tobirama folded his arms over his chest, looking down at Obito. “I see your promiscuity in high school never ceased, either,”
“Oh!” Izuna looked down at Obito, now clinging to his pantleg. “This is Madara’s son!”
Tobirama looked like Izuna had just told him the world was ending in three minutes.
“No way,”
“Yes way,” Izuna said, putting his hand on Obito’s head. “Mads is sick, so mini and me are getting stuff to make him soup. How’ve you been, other than your average stick-in-the-ass Tobirama?”
“Uncle Izu, that’s a bad word,” Obito scolded. “Daddy said no bad words,”
“Sorry, babe,”
“I’m fine,” Tobirama said.
“Home from college?”
“I’m working on my dissertation,”
“Congrats,” Izuna feigned a smile. “Well, nice seeing you, but the brat and I have to go,”
Izuna steered Obito away from Tobirama, pretending to not notice the Senju glaring holes into his back.
“Uncle Izu, who’s that?”
“An old friend,” Izuna lied. “Let’s go pick out your candy, okay?”
“Yeah!”
Izuna took a turn too sharp and too close to a telephone pole, startling as he heard the distinct clink of glass breaking. Obito swayed a bit in his car seat, mouth wide as he looked at the passenger side mirror that was now bent downwards and dangling by its wiring, the glass shattered.
Izuna’s eyes widened as he glanced back at his nephew.
“Don’t tell Dad. I’ll buy you a new toy, I promise,”
“Okay,”
Madara woke up a few hours later, miserably congested. His throat and chest ached when he coughed, and all he really wanted was a hot shower, some comfortable clothes, and another nap.
He forced himself out of bed despite his muscles aching in protest. His shirt and pants were wrinkled from sleep, and he grimaced as he undressed before heading into his bathroom.
Madara set about his routine, letting the hot water hit his back as he worked through cleaning his hair and body, wincing as he kept hitting snags in his hair. Dealing with his hair was too much when he was so tired and sore, his arms feeling more like heavy weights than actual appendages, opting instead to feel the heat on his skin as he leaned against the cool tile. He tiredly blinked his eyes, feeling the worst he had been in a long time.
Work had been so stressful lately, working on a case where his client was accused of triple homicide. He did it, and even though Madara really would want him to get locked up for good, he had a job as a lawyer to at least attempt to get a bargain or a reduced sentence. It’s what he got paid for. Other than making sure Obito was taken care of, Madara had been neglecting his own needs, and that also had meant slacking on his sleep and eating.
It was also late spring, and the change in season usually made his allergies act up. Obito had just been whining the other week about his nose, which he had rubbed nearly raw from blowing it constantly.
There was a knock on the bathroom door, pulling Madara from his thoughts.
“We made food,” Izuna’s voice called from behind the door.
Madara found himself smiling slightly as he washed the rest of the soap from his body and the conditioner from his hair, ready to see whatever hellish concoction Izuna made for him.
Izuna, the brother who would put horseradish on Madara’s sandwiches when they were children and lied saying that it was mayonnaise. His little brother who once mixed canned cat food with mayonnaise and fed it to Madara under the guise of a tuna fish sandwich when they were in high school. Countless other times Izuna had “cooked” for Madara and he ended up suffering with food poisoning.
Hopefully whatever Izuna made him would clear his sinuses.
Obito nearly fell out of his seat once Madara finally shuffled his way into the kitchen, dressed in clean pajamas and trying to stifle a cough. Obito tackled his legs with a tight hug, buzzing with excitement.
“Uncle Izu and I made you soup!” Obito shouted.
“You did?”
“It’s just chicken noodle,” Izuna said from the stove, a bowl in hand as he placed it down at Madara’s seat. “I added ginger for you, but Obito wanted to put hot sauce and peppers in yours,”
“You didn’t put anything questionable into this, did you?” Madara eyed his brother warily.
“I followed Mom’s recipe,” Izuna said, sliding the bowl closer to Madara as he sat down. “Eat it,”
Madara looked down at the bowl, which seemed like a normal bowl of soup. Hesitantly, he took his spoon and took a bite.
“Not bad,” he said, despite being barely able to taste it.
“Told you so,” Izuna said. “I made Obito dinner already and called you out of work tomorrow. I took a sick day so I can watch Obito,”
Madara gave his brother a lazy smile before going back to eat.
He’d have no idea what he would do without his brother.