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His nap (which was not because of his age, damnit, it was simply because he had a long day wrangling those disrespectful brats at the Academy yesterday) was rudely interrupted by shouting outside his door.
"Madara-sama!"
His knees give an unfair creak that makes Madara curse. He struggles to his feet with the grace of a man far past his prime, yanking at the wall and clutching at the wooden chair he was in until he's upright. He doesn't hurry to the door, however, despite the increasing panic and the rising octave of the voice, because he's retired for Indra's sake, why does everyone expect so much of him? Madara swings open the door, unimpressed, to be met with frantic black eyes and apologetic dark brown ones.
Hashirama, the old fool, leans heavily against an Uchiha boy's smaller body, draped across him as if he were melded into his clothing. There was a sheen of sweat across his brow, and the long silvery-brown hair was ruffled messily. The Uchiha boy glanced at Hashirama, and a flash of pain crossed the old man's face for just a moment until it sent the boy into a new fit.
"Madara-sama." The Uchiha boy said, nearly hysterical with panic and concern. He moved a touch faster, yanking Hashirama roughly forward until the old man let out a soft cry of pain, and the older Uchiha moved to meet them.
He gave the pair an unimpressed stare, raising an eyebrow. "And what have you done to my husband?" Madara demanded, already looping his arm around Hashirama's waist, taking the weight off of the teenager that was falling apart at the seams over the ailing Senju. His knees gave a protest at the added weight, but Madara would be damned if he let his body act a fool in such a delicate situation.
"It was an accident, Madara." Hashirama moaned out, all pained gasps and gentle steps. "I was helping the new genin get ready for our session with them tomorrow, setting up and such, and--" He twisted his body backwards, one leg giving out so quickly that even Madara panicked. Thankfully the Uchiha genin reached forward, steadying the Senju.
"Hashirama-sama fell ." The Uchiha told him, looking far too sympathetic for the old Senju, as if he couldn't easily heal himself up. "And I wasn't sure where to bring him. It's his hip, but he refused a trip to the hospital."
"Oh, I'll be fine. I don't want to bother anyone." Hashirama stumbled inside their home. He reached out dramatically for his favored chair, a bulking wooden thing filled with cushions that were from some foreign country. There was a story behind them, but all Madara knows is that while he fought against the samurai guarding the Lord of the Land of Something or the Other, Hashirama was off somewhere in the damn palaced stealing these stupid cushions.
He dumps the Senju down into the seat as gently as possible, glancing down worriedly when Hashirama let out a pained gasp, and his heart skipped a beat at the way his husband let out a groan. Hashirama adjusted, favoring one side over the other, and waving the Uchiha boy over.
"Thank you for helping this pathetic old man." Hashirama praised, turning those shining brown eyes up at the boy, grasping at Madara's hand for comfort. He took the calloused palm into his own, squeezing hard. "But I'm...I'm so sorry to say I don't believe I'll be able to attend the training session with you and the other genin tomorrow. You'll have to forgive me." His eyes watered, either from emotion or from pain, but Madara wasn't sure from which. "But my husband can still go…?"
The genin offered a pitying smile, looking at them both in a mixture of embarrassment on their behalf (because the young always seemed to think them overly fragile and listless) and empathy. "No, Madara-sama should stay with you! Please don't worry about the training session, we'll have plenty of chances to get to speak to you both." Except the boy didn't sound convinced, as if the both of them were on their death beds in front of him. "Please get better, Hashirama-sama!"
Hashirama's smile is bright as ever, and just as deceivingly honest . "You're too kind. Do you see this, Madara? This village is full of such kind genin--!" He hisses, shifting again. Madara steps forward, lays a gentle hand against his cheek, examining his face for any signs of worsening pain, but Hashirama just gives a more tight smile.
The boy bows deeply, "I'm going to leave you to Madara-sama. If you need anything, please let me know. I'm sorry we couldn't prevent your fall." He lingers by the door frame, shame crossing such young features.
Hashirama laughs, loud and rough, waving him off.
"It wasn't preventable. My knees aren't what they used to be, my own fault. Aging and all." Hashirama shakes his head, and keeps that same idiotic smile until the Uchiha boy disappears outside the house and their door shut.
Madara glances down at the man, examining his softening features as the Senju relaxes into his favorite chair. He's still as handsome as he had always been, the Uchiha marvels for a moment, with the long dark hair peppered with bright silver. Not as fit as before, but some lean muscle remained under his softened body. Only a few laugh lines, some lines, some wrinkles by the corner of his eyes from his constant smiling. But still handsome, the bastard, and healthy as a damned horse.
So he promptly smacks the idiot as hard as he can muster upside the head. Hashirama lets out a pathetic yelp, jolting away and clutching at his head.
" Anata ." He whined, letting the word drag out far too long. "Why would you do that?"
Madara wasn't any more impressed now then he was when he first opened the door, " Hurt your hip? As if you don't self-heal in the blink of an eye." He shuffled on his bad knees, slowly sitting down beside his idiot husband.
Hashirama's lips twisted into a pout, and he kept rubbing at his head as if he were smoothing out a knot. "I don't heal as quickly as I used to! I could probably really break something!" He protested, as if trying to prove the ability to break a bone was somehow a good thing?
Madara raised an eyebrow. He set his lips into a thin line.
Hashirama wilted immediately.
"Alright, I pretended." He admitted, as if Madara had ever admitted the charade. Although he would concede that his husband's acting skills had improved some since their childhood when he'd fall into wailing, moaning, and over-dramatic gestures to get his way. "But I got us out of helping the genin, didn't I?"
Madara snorted, "At the expense of any reputation we had left. Now they really think we're damned old . Our hips break now apparently." He let his head fall upon his husband's shoulder. "Why couldn't you say your brother died again?"
Hashirama's arm was warm as it looped around his shoulders, and his breath was hot against the top of Madara's head. His chin rested there, near his forehead.
"Because I can only say Tobirama died so many times to get out of social functions. And remember what happened the first time? When his former students started crying? I felt so terrible."
"No, you didn't."
"No, I didn't." Hashirama agreed with a playful smile. Madara relaxed into the soft, buttery cushions stolen from some lord or another on that mission to who knows where , and into the warmth of his husband's far too comfortable body. "Speaking of Tobirama, did you check on him today?"
"No."
" Madara. "
He swatted at his arm, satisfied by the grunt he received in return. "Of course I did. The old bastard is still alive and kicking." Madara couldn't fight the satisfaction in his tone when he glanced down the hallway that led to Tobirama's room. "Although, he went down for a nap a few hours ago. Maybe he's finally done me the favor of dying."
Hashirama chuckled, "He's waiting for you to die first." He replies, and the Uchiha bristled at the thought of giving the pale Senju the satisfaction.
"He'll be waiting a while." Madara muttered. "Living in my house? He should be lucky I don't take a pillow and finish him myself."
" Madara ."
"I haven't done it yet, have I?"
Well, he'd thought about it. But that would involve use of muscles he hasn't had to use in years, and he'd have to get down beside the futon, and there was always the chance that Tobirama would fight back. By Indra, Madara was tired just thinking about all of that mess. The usual enjoyment of justified murder just wasn't what it used to be, not when his back was so often stiff and he got winded trying to climb the stairs of their cellar. Best to let the Senju idiot die of natural causes, because Madara had no intentions of letting him win by staying alive longer than him.
Hashirama slumped against him too, letting out a lazy yawn. He cuddled close, smelling of cut-grass, sweat, and nectar, and Madara cursed how much he loved the scent and the closeness of the man. Even all of these years later, after so many heartbreaks and fighting and a thousand things trying to tear them apart, Madara still felt just as giddy to be around this senile idiot as he was the day he saw him at the side of the Naka River. It was like looking at him for the first time all over, again and again, every day he woke up at his side. As sentimental as that was and all.
He sighed, "Do you feel like doing the broken hip act again?" Madara questioned suddenly. "We can get out of going to that birthday party for Tobirama's student. The one with the terrible beard."
Hashirama frowned, eyebrows furrowing. "Hiruzen? But he's the current Hokage, it would be rude of us not to go."
"Are you saying you're not going to do it?"
"Don't be hasty, of course I am. I don't want to go." Hashirama replied with a wink. "I never cared for that one of Tobirama's students anyway."
"You voted to make him Hokage."
Hashirama gave him a blank stare, "I know." He let out a tired groan, shaking his head dramatically, looking just as ridiculous as he did at twelve. "We founded this village. Wasn't that enough? Why do they want us to go to things? I just want to be here with you and my bonsai. And my brother, I suppose."
"Stop your whining, it isn't like we really go to anything. We always find a way out of it. Now come on, you senile old fool." He said fondly, fighting back a smile. "Let's go to bed. I've been up too long today."
"It's only two in the afternoon…?" Hashirama teased, looking far too pleased with himself. Every sentimental, sappy thought flew from Madara's head at the wicked look in the old man's eyes. "Getting old there, anata?"
Madara shoved him off the chair, letting him tumble to the floor with a loud groan. Unfortunately, none of his bones broke, to the Uchiha's disappointment. "Shut up. Now you can go take a nap with your brother, don't get into my bed. I'll make myself into a widow, I don't mind being alone as long as I outlive your brother."
" Madara!"