Work Text:
Izuna had just woken up from a very satisfying nap and had been idly stretching his wings as he lay on the tatami when Madara ever so rudely opens the door with a loud bang, dripping wet, stinking of fish, and his wings thoroughly soaked. Izuna wrinkles his nose at the thought of having to clean up the floors again when he had just finished before his nap.
He doesn’t even need to ask what happened—not that he would have, still a bit sluggish from his nap—because Madara immediately started ranting about “that damned Senju” and “fucking ospreys and their fucking fish.”
Ah yes, the memories come back to him now as he tries to blink away the last dredges of sleep tugging at his eyelids. Hashirama had been crowing about some trip in the woods he’d planned for Tobirama and Madara to “stop being so antagonistic; they keep scaring away potential traders.” The idiot two caved to his pleading immediately when the tall man started pouting and sending pleading eyes akin to the Inuzuka’s dogs.
Honestly, one would think him more akin to a budgie than an eagle personality-wise.
He tunes back in to Madara’s ranting when he starts screeching. “—AND THE GREAT ARSE HAD THE GALL TO THROW HIS FISH IN MY FACE! I DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING WRONG! I FUCKING GAVE HIM SOME FISH OF MINE TO TASTE, WHAT THE FUCK WAS WRONG ABOUT THAT! HASHIRAMA TOLD ME HE LIKES FISH!”
Izuna’s not entirely sure how they still haven’t figured it out. Everyone but these two already know. They aren’t exactly subtle with their, he shudders, attraction. Great Winds, most of the village even thinks they’re already in a relationship which they are not or Izuna wouldn’t have found himself in this present situation.
He idly picks at the tatami, blinking idly at Madara’s still-soaked form despite the fact that he could have dried himself off with a katon. Hopefully, Madara will finally get it and give them some fucking rest. It’s been years. “You know ospreys court with food too, right? Particularly the fish kind?”
Madara sputters into a pause, soaked wings suddenly flailing and splashing more of the tatami—dammit, he really will have to wash the living room’s tatami again; maybe he should nag at Hikaku to help him. “WHAT?!” Madara’s volume is still the same level as his screeching. Ow. Izuna tweaks a pinky in his ear.
“Yes, nii-san, I said courting. That thing that people who like each other do? Have you seen yourselves at all in the past two years? Everyone and their mother has seen you both sparring. You aren’t subtle with your flirting.”
“WE WERE FIGHTING!” Others would think constant exposure to this volume would make his ears more impervious to it; they were wrong. Izuna ignores the ring in his ears with the ease of familiarity.
“Yes. That was absolutely why you kept flying and flitting around him during a spar or a race or what-have-you like when Uncle Hikoji was courting with Aunt Musubi. Both of you flare your wings in display whenever you see each other. Not at all like courtship behavior right?”
Madara flails once more and even harder then takes a sudden pause, eyes wide in surprise. He’s finally figuring it out, Izuna rolls his eyes.
“Mothers kept covering their kids’ eyes, nii-san. Nearly everyone thinks you’re together. Hell, I almost did.”
“Together—” Madara chokes, his face turning nearly as red as their Sharingan.
Izuna enunciates. “Yes, nii-san. Together-together because you clearly like-like each other. Is that easier to understand?”
Madara splutters loudly for nearly a solid minute before he finally found his words. “I’M GOING—” Madara looks like he’s forcibly calming himself down but it’s not proving effective at all. “I’ll just— I have to take care of something.”
“Gross.” Izuna ignores the loud squawk and flops back onto his spot on the tatami, watching Madara starting to walk back through the door he nearly destroyed and, in an instance where his braincells finally gave him the idea to dry himself off with a katon, dry himself and his wings.
Madara’s feathers are still ruffled as he leaves no matter how much he tries to smooth them down. He looks so antsy it’s starting to make Izuna antsy as well, ugh. Madara finally flies off, taking all that restless energy with him.
He lays there in the quiet, contemplating another nap. He’s still tired after that stupid mission in Kaze no Kuni that ended up with him having to preen his tired and messy wings alone in the middle of a ridiculously windy desert. A sudden thought stops him from dozing off again though.
Izuna gets up to find some way to plug his ears. He’s more than sure that those two’s conversation would likely wake the village with their—mostly Madara’s—volume. He should probably get Hikaku to help him with the floors too.
—
Izuna’s not really sure what he had expected when he finally sees the two together with their hands intertwined, shoulders brushing with every step, wings pressed together, and disgustingly in love. (Izuna threw up in his mouth a little at the display. Ew.)
But Madara looks happy and Tobirama looks less like he’ll start freezing anyone who comes too close, too absorbed as they are taking glances of the one by their side as they walked in tandem like some courtship dance he had never seen before.
That’s enough for him.
(That won’t stop him from crashing their now-official dates, though. He’ll have to ask Hashirama if he wants in. Worded more diplomatically, of course.)