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Tobirama had been accused of being a perfectionist several times in his life. Mostly by his brothers (Hashirama mainly), mostly as an insult of sorts (whenever his brother thought him too finicky), but for once in his life Tobirama was putting his foot down about everything and giving no one any sort of wiggle room. Everything had to be perfect.
When he sent his brother out with a shopping list, it was with the sternest look he could muster on next to no sleep, not feeling any sympathy for the log even as he had to trudge through a good several feet of snow just to make it out the front yard. Izuna likewise received no sympathy whenever he showed up later than previously discussed with the wrong brand of whiskey, and he felt no shame in dangling blackmail right over his head to get the ass off his ass and back out in the harsh winter to fetch the right one this go around.
That would bite him later. Izuna’s eyes flickered dark in that way that promised something would be found broken or simply never found again, but that was a problem for future Tobirama to deal with. For now he had his worries and woes circling around one particular subject that had haunted him for far too many years to let even a speck of dust ruin the night he was planning.
It had been an innocent discovery at first. Enjoying the Uchiha’s company more than he’d expected, not loathing every second he had to spend listening to the man speak at meetings. Finding his voice grating throughout the years of blood between them had made Tobirama think he’d always hate it, but when Madara was calm his voice was nothing more than a voice. Just something Tobirama had to pay attention to, just something that brought him information he had to jot down just to be sure Hashirama wouldn’t forget about it later.
That had been it, and yet it could never be that simple.
He busied his hands in an attempt to busy his mind, scratching at his neck where the sweater made it a little uncomfortable inside. One of the greatest comforts that Konoha had brought them had been controlled temperatures indoors (an invention they all had the Nara to thank for, and something he’d personally pushed to make available to as many people as physically possible due to the harsh winters taking so many from the country in the past) but he could never quite get used to the idea that he didn’t have to drown himself in layers just to keep feeling in his limbs and toes. The sweater was overkill with how toasty he kept his house but at the moment he couldn’t be bothered to take it off, just shoving his sleeves up for a bit of relief as he tried to find something to keep his mind off of the end of the week.
The holidays were almost upon them, and he wasn’t ready yet.
Christmas had ever been an indulgence that Tobirama hardly participated in. He found the gifting of presents to mean little whenever it was a set date and expected, the cold too harsh to enjoy outdoor activities in winter, Hashirama’s insistence to spend whole days together overbearing. Perhaps it made him a bit of a grump but he really would have rather skipped the holiday entirely, saving his ryo to spend on gifts throughout the year as little reminders that he cared (gift giving had always been easier than showing with words). Even the feasting felt like a bit of a waste though they had both the ryo and the food to spare nowadays, what with all the comforts Konoha had brought them, his stomach protesting and his movements more sluggish because of it, making him feel far too vulnerable even though he knew the chance of an attack had dwindled so drastically now that they were at peace.
But that had been before, when the holidays had just been holidays and nothing more. Now that his stupid heart fluttered whenever the Uchiha’s voice directed something nice his way he couldn’t ignore the birthday that fell smack in the middle of the holiday season, and since he’d finally decided to do something about that stupid fluttering he had to make sure there wasn’t an ornament out of place or a ribbon tied wonky or anything not perfect lest it all be ruined and his suffering be for naught.
Tobirama did yet another sweep of the house, checking and rechecking that they had the right snacks, teas, cocoa powder, the correct amount of decoration. It wasn’t the last sweep of the night but it was the last he managed before Hashirama trudged snow inside upon his return, Tobirama hissing through his teeth as he forced him to strip in the entryway while he fetched a mop to clean up his brother’s mess.
It was well passed midnight when Hashirama shoved him off to bed, the man in his sleeping yukata and yawning hard enough to crack his jaw if he wasn’t careful. Despite Tobirama’s insistence that he was perfectly fine to stay up later, he had a lot of preparation to do if everyone would be over for Madara’s birthday, Hashirama didn’t listen to him. As a matter of fact he threatened to sling him over his shoulder like a potato sack and haul him off to bed by force if necessary, and even though they were the only ones in the house Tobirama was not willing to have his dignity drug through the muck like that.
That didn’t mean he actually slept much, or well. He tossed and turned like he’d never really done before, usually able to stay perfectly still and force himself to get an hour or so. But he was too busy running over lists in his mind, worrying over whether he’d forgotten something, wondering if it really would go as he’d planned.
Would it be worth it? Would Madara mind the surprise at all, or would he rather let his birthday slide as he had the past several years? Would the whole of his efforts be wasted and be for naught?
Did Madara feel the same?
At least by morning he managed to shove most of his worries to the side of his mind, left on the dusty shelves they’d crawled off of to bug him. Chamomile and lavender tea steaming away in his mug, both hands wrapped around it to keep his fingers from freezing off, Tobirama did his first sweep of the house for the morning, reminding himself that Hashirama had confirmed it for him quite clearly not a week before.
Madara wanted to celebrate his birthday, and only ever felt sour about it because so many overlooked it for the holidays. Over the years they’d become amicable enough, so much so that there was little reason to fear Madara loathing the idea of visiting his house. He’d been over on his own accord on occasions. All he really had to worry over was making sure nothing was out of place (like the stray bit of tinsel in the corner that was making his eye twitch, which was quickly tossed in the bin where it belonged) and whether or not his feelings would be returned.
Well. There was really nothing he could do about the last point besides find out on his own, something he was determined to get out of the way. But he also wanted to just make sure Madara had a pleasant birthday, whether or not the romantic feelings were mutual. The day wasn’t about him, or his feelings, but about Madara, and he’d be making certain to not make the day awkward or uncomfortable for him even if it meant pushing his feelings back once more.
Being in the house was making him cross-eyed though. Tobirama found himself overlooking far too much by lunch, unable to focus well, missing words and rereading whole sentences as he tried to make his way through some leisure book since Hashirama refused to let him pace the house anymore.
Outside it was, no matter that the cold would likely kill him. He made sure to layer up extra, even borrowing one of Hashirama’s coats to put up over everything else, wrapping his face up in a lovely scarf Mito had made for him before heading out into the snow.
At least his ears weren’t cold. He tucked his chin and pulled his hat down further just in case, crossing his arms over his chest as tightly as he could to trap the heat in. It was nearly impossible to move about gracefully loaded down as he was in wool and cloth but he did his best to not resemble too much a bumbling fool, making his way towards the market out of really nothing else better to do. Though really it might do him some good to peruse one of the few stores that remained open in such weather (mainly due to the fact that the owners lived upstairs anyway, so they didn’t have to risk their own digits just to keep their livelihood going), that way anything he might have forgotten could catch his eye as he wandered the aisles.
Not to mention it would get him out of the wind, which kept trying to catch and steal his scarf. Gods but he wished they lived closer to the coastline.
The little store was blessedly warm. He made sure to kick his boots clean as best he could before entering, then tapped them against the inside welcome mat until he was certain he wouldn’t mess up their floor like his brother had his own the night before. The heat was a bit much with all that he had on but he didn’t even bother unwrapping his scarf, going about the store as he was just thankful that he hadn’t lost the tip of his nose to frostbite.
Nothing really caught his eye. They had little candles for sale that were cute enough for perhaps Hashirama to coo over, clear ones in little glass cups that had preserved flowers in them, but Tobirama passed them up quickly with little interest. His brother had far too many useless knickknacks as it was; if he was getting anything else for Christmas it would be something as useful as the rest of the gifts he’d gotten him.
Most of the jarred and canned foods had been picked clean by the rest of the citizens, the food shelves almost barren save for a few dented cans that had been deemed undesirable. He still spent some time squatting down and peering through the lower shelves, mostly just to waste time so his brother wouldn’t try to send him right back out when he went home. Mostly all he saw was dust but he did see a few dead bugs, his curiosity almost getting the best of him and making him want to try to find a way to take them back home. Ever since the Aburame had moved in he’d become rather fascinated with the creepy crawlers, though he wasn’t certain they’d be all that flattered to know he mainly studied dead ones.
Best not to tell them.
He ended up spending the rest of the time in the spice section, in a bit of wonder over how many there were. Over the years several different people had expressed to him that his cooking was rather…bland, to put it more bluntly than they had (beside Touka, who always meant well even when she punched with full force), and he’d not really bothered to look much into what could make it any better. To find dozens and dozens of different types of dried herbs and ground nuts and the like sitting in the spice section - a whole section, dedicated to spices - well. Tobirama felt a bit like he’d discovered some new type of science, and really couldn’t be faulted for dumping a whole load of new ones to try on the sale counter.
Bounty in hand, Tobirama set off once more into the cold after a wave to the owner, shuffling through the snow and even managing to not glare at it as harshly as he had the way to the store.
The spices at least helped keep his mind and hands occupied during the last few days before Christmas Eve. In-between making sure Izuna, Hashirama, and Mito had their tasks delegated and completed correctly (bless Mito for understanding his need for perfection, otherwise he was certain she would have been done and out from her very first eye twitch warning directed his way) he went about the kitchen experimenting with the various leaves and spices he’d bought, combining them by compatible scents and tastes and even at random just to see what went well together. Sleeping even became easier once his shoulders weren’t attached to his ears, though it was a bit of an effort to force himself to go lay down instead of play around with this new sort of experimentations.
But then the morning came when he was laying away far too early, staring at the ceiling, his heart beating a frantic rhythm before the sun had even deigned to peek through his curtains.
Madara’s birthday. The day he’d been planning for so long, and now he oddly felt nauseous over the whole thing. Probably the nerves, a bit the feelings attached. He might be rather unused to such things but he wasn’t oblivious enough to not know the cause of the odd nausea, just that…how odd it was to feel something so normal, so civilian almost.
There were plenty of people who would argue that he couldn’t feel anything of the sort, but how wrong they were.
Having planned for the gathering to take place later on in the afternoon, Tobirama at least had plenty of time to soothe the nausea away. Tea in hand and a bit of old research in hand, he walked about the house and did his best to do just that, to focus on himself and his research and not the urge to run to the bathroom or perhaps call off everything.
Calling it off was a non-option. This day was not about him, nor his feelings or his nausea or anything of the sort. It was about Madara - it was his day, and Tobirama could bare through the potential embarrassment to make sure it was pleasant for him.
Mito had never truly gotten along that well with her husband’s best friend, though she did stop by before lunch and drop off a delicately wrapped present for him. It was with a click of her tongue and a sharp look before she left, not even stopping in for tea, and Tobirama was left staring at her back in wonder at how she managed to brave the cold in barely anything more than her typical summer wear. Sure, the many layers of her kimono had to be a bit warm, but she was from an island; they must have gotten more wind than snow, and yet she braved the latter with little fear, her ears exposed to the chill as if that wasn’t the single most painful experience in Tobirama’s mind.
There really wasn’t a sane one among them. He shook his head and shut his front door quite firmly, going back to his overheated house and his too many layers, tugging at his collar to let some air hit his neck.
By lunch, he was admittedly a bit frazzled. The tea wasn’t working, and burning his lavender candles was a no go considering the smell apparently gave Madara headaches. So he was left with Hashirama trying to distract him, keeping him seated instead of rearranging the gifts he’d arranged on the kotatsu or messing with the drinks and snacks he’d set up in the kitchen.
No matter how many times his brother told him it all looked perfect, he couldn’t help but want to keep trying to make it better. He had to cross his arms tightly and squish them against his sides just to keep his hands from reaching out and messing with one of the ribbons on the gifts, his whole body stiff from the effort to keep still.
Hashirama’s damned grin really wasn’t helping either. The cruel fool and his sparkling eyes over the whole thing.
By the time Madara was on his doorstep, Tobirama was ready to strangle his own brother. Hashirama was only spared by the griping that echoed in through the entrance as Madara came in through the front door, the cold having apparently put him in a right pissy mood despite how warm his fire nature kept him.
Not at all a good sign for the evening, given that Madara’s happiness was the main concern. But, that said, Tobirama had found the man’s moods could be rather fickle and his griping was often more hot air than anything else. As long as that pattern held true, the afternoon might not end in disaster.
A flaw in his planning, however, came up to bite him then. Tobirama stood up and his mind entirely blanked as he realized he did not know what to do with himself. Should he go and greet him quickly? Wait there in the living room and let Izuna guide him in?
How he could have overlooked such a crucial part of the afternoon - how Madara would be greeted at his own party - well. He could beat himself over the head with how asinine that was later. For now he had to face the unknown and uncertainty as Madara rounded the corner into the room, a frown marring his face as Tobirama quickly clasped his hands behind his back just to keep them occupied.
The nausea was back. But considering Madara was already there, frown turning more confused than frustrated, it was a bit too late for him to duck out towards the restroom. It was a damned blessing that his brother was better at social interactions than him, because it meant Madara’s attention quickly snapped to the older and more exuberant sibling, leaving Tobirama a few moments to breathe and collect himself as Hashirama threw himself at the Uchiha.
Using the ensuing bickering to his advantage, Tobirama quickly glanced around one final time to make sure nothing had spontaneously jumped out of place (all things considered in his life, stranger things have happened). It wasn’t the eagle eyed final look over he wished he could give everything but it was all he could spare before he took a deep breath and faced his decisions, stepping around the sofa to first and foremost remove his brother from the man of the hour. Or day, rather.
“Anija, have at least a modicum of decorum.” While his brother wrinkled his nose at that (whether because he didn’t want to listen or because he had to think about what Tobirama meant, he really didn’t have the time or the care to find out), Tobirama directed his attention to Madara instead, keeping his lips pressed together as the man grumbled and straightened back out his barely wrinkled clothes. “You can…make yourself at home.”
“Good to know.” It sounded grouchier than Madara meant, though it was only experience and clear knowledge of the man’s many different facial expressions that allowed Tobirama to know that. “Can’t believe you let your brother commandeer your house for all this though.”
Tobirama blinked as Madara moved passed him, staring at his back as Hashirama perked right back up and followed after his friend, chatting away excitedly as Madara griped at him.
Commandeer his house…? Did Madara believe this was all Hashirama’s doing? Even as Tobirama crossed his arms with a scowl, tensing a bit too much to join the two best friends now socializing on his sofa, he know the assumption made more sense on the surface than the truth. Parties weren’t exactly the sort of thing Tobirama made a habit of planning, let alone in his own home, while his brother held a dinner at his house every single chance he got.
Still didn’t take the sting away. All the effort and hours and perfecting, and the credit immediately went to Hashirama - who hadn’t even heard the grumbled assumption, leaving it uncorrected.
He wasn’t allowed to huff about it. The day was not his, and being snippy or in a sour mood wouldn’t be productive as far as making sure Madara’s birthday went well. So Tobirama forced himself to let that go, uncrossing his arms as he joined the others in making himself comfortable.
That was not the last thing he had to let slide. When Izuna broke out the whiskey too soon he had to focus on nudging the presents around instead of grinding his teeth or twitching his eye too much, and when Hashirama started shoving the gifts at his friend without even staggering them based on who they were from Tobirama had to flat out leave the room to calm himself.
At least he was self aware enough to know it all didn’t really matter that terribly. Whiskey before or after the gifts, receiving two from the same person in a row, the wrapping paper going in the floor first instead of straight into the waste bin he’d left next to the table on purpose - he pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to breathe, because it was all needlessly anal on his part.
Madara was enjoying himself. The few scowls he’d sent towards anyone had been directed at Hashirama over the gaudiness of the socks the idiot had knitted him, but it was clear to them all that he’d still wear them and appreciated the gifts. As always the man was filled with hot air, something it had taken Tobirama far longer to see than he’d care to admit.
Something to calm his anger, then. Whiskey had never been to his taste but the wine in the kitchen was, and considering everyone else in his house was partaking it would hardly be rude for him to break something out that he could enjoy as well. And that would help him put up with all the unnecessary changes to the night’s schedule.
His eye was still twitching by the time he had a nice glass of white wine in hand, something quite a bit sweeter than he usually enjoyed but the extra sugar would help it go straight where he needed it to. The first half of the glass he hardly tasted as it went straight down his throat, head thrown back and eyes shut as if not acknowledging what he was doing would make it any less undignified.
Guzzling wine. His mother would be ashamed.
“Didn’t realize we were that bad.”
It was sheer luck alone that kept him from spitting up his drink, an act that would have haunted him much longer than he would have ever let on. But Tobirama managed to only cough a little as he righted his own head, turning wide-eyed at the Uchiha who was leaning in the entranceway to the kitchen, smirking as Tobirama fought off the urge to keep coughing and choke around his wine.
The ass.
“You’ll have to give better context, Uchiha.” Tobirama waved his hand in gesture, clearing his throat one last time. “’Bad’ and you tend to keep close company.”
“Ouch.” Madara’s tone suggested anything but hurt. “You run off and decide to get drunk off your fancy wine, is that enough context for you?”
“I’m not so lightweight as to get drunk off half a glass of wine.”
“Certainly looked like you were trying.” Madara snickered at Tobirama’s scowl, pushing away from the wall and stepping around the kitchen table to pick the wine bottle up off the counter. He spun it around in his hand a few times, leaning back against the counter next to Tobirama, wrinkling his nose further and further as he scanned the ingredients on the back. “Should’ve went with straight honey at this rate.”
“Better than whatever dribble you lot were shooting.” The banter, at least, felt natural enough between them. Something Tobirama was more than happy to lean back on now, to help him relax despite his potential plans of embarrassing himself further. Madara’s wit and quick tongue had always made for a decent verbal sparring partner, and if the glint in the Uchiha’s eyes were ever anything to go by he felt the same.
Familiar territory for the both of them. Safe territory. Plenty far enough away from the idiotic feelings Tobirama wanted so desperately to get off his chest.
Damned Uchiha. Tobirama had never asked for this.
“I don’t suppose I’ll be getting a present from you, will I?”
The odd tone, as well as the shift away from banter, made Tobirama blink more than necessary. He eyed the Uchiha in his periphery, frowning as he took a dignified sip of his wine. “What, the party wasn’t enough of one?”
It seemed to take a second for Madara to catch his drift, unsurprising considering his assumption earlier had been that Hashirama had been the one to set the whole thing up. He managed to take the new information with rare grace, frowning in thought and muttering about how he should have known Hashirama couldn’t plan anything that involved more than just himself and a bathroom break.
But Madara didn’t let the surprise affect him for long. Determined to be a persistent fly he round right back on Tobirama, puffing himself up and standing right in front of him just to be certain he had his attention.
“That’s not a proper gift. It doesn’t count.”
He raised an eyebrow at the almost childish way Madara had put his hands on his hips, demanding another present on his birthday. At least the playful edge of his chakra gave away that he wasn’t serious, though what sort of game this was Tobirama really couldn’t say. Madara’s eyes were lit with a good natured sort of glee, a look the man most often gave to his younger brother whilst teasing him.
Since he didn’t know what game this was, he really didn’t know how to play along or not. But with the wine buzzing through his veins, and everything else in the house melting away from him under Madara’s burning presence, Tobirama decided he’d at least attempt to play along and humor his guest. He was the man of the hour, after all.
“And what exactly would count then? Apparently not whiskey or tinsel.”
He wasn’t sure why he brought the second one up. Possibly due to the trouble it had given him, or possibly because he really hadn’t given Madara much of anything tangible. Might have been an oversight on his end but it certainly wasn’t one he felt sorry for, though he felt it would have been at least better in his favor if he had. Giving Madara something personal would have opened them up to discussing certain emotions, and Tobirama was still struggling over how he’d possibly ever find the exact right moment to bring up such matters.
Despite how part of his brain wanted to spout out some weepy log bullshit over how one could never truly describe the way Madara’s eyes drew Tobirama’s interest more thoroughly than the deepest and darkest and most beautiful gemstone, and how his heart could never be truly expressed through words since it was but human nature to be flawed and never fully understood - but Tobirama was a scientist, not some love stricken buffoon swooning over their loved one. It would be simple to make his point. He liked Madara. All he had to do was say that to him. Why that was such a difficult thing to do was merely the fault of the aforementioned human flaws.
They were alone at the moment, though. Tobirama’s neck heated at the thought, realizing this might be the only chance he would get that night. Everyone else was in the living room distracted by each other. It would be so easy, to get it out and over with, to have the weight off his chest and onto Madara’s shoulders to bear - have him deal with the feelings, spare Tobirama further indecision and fretting over the thought of them.
It would be so easy, and Tobirama would be nothing short of a fool if he didn’t take advantage of this.
“A kiss would do.”
For a brief and terrifying moment, Tobirama thought those words had come out of his own mouth - ones far more embarrassing than those he’d planned to say. Asking for a kiss? For physical contact of such a fashion, without any sort of preamble, any sort of making their feelings or intentions known?
…but he really shouldn’t think any sort of complaints over this. Not that he could think of much of anything, with his mind scrambling to process what Madara had just said to him. And the tone in which he’d said it, teasing but not in some cruel and joking way, eyes still lit up, drawing him in.
It was Madara’s birthday. Tobirama had made it his personal mission to make the day perfect for him, to make him happy. Who was he to say no?
Madara’s cheek was warm under his hand. His lips lightly chapped from the cold weather, tasting of whiskey. The kiss itself was far from earth shattering - no stars fell into alignment, no toes curling or breath stolen from any lungs - but how quiet and natural it felt was what drew Tobirama in for a second and third.
One taste of them, and he hoped it wouldn’t be his last.
Concerning any other matter, Tobirama would have been at least a little irked that Madara stole his thunder. Made the first move with his demand, threw off all of Tobirama’s careful planning with four simple words. But, he would allow this without a fuss. Better than making a fool of himself, though as they pulled away from their kissing and he found his mind blank something worried it might not be too late for that.
How, exactly, was one to act right after kissing someone new? Should he say something? Compliment Madara’s kissing, or perhaps wax some poetry about how he looked that day, how his hair did…things- definitely best to leave the waxing up to Hashirama since Tobirama already felt sweat at his neck just thinking about it.
At least he was saved any blundering. He only had a few seconds to stare awkwardly into Madara’s eyes, wondering how to read the emotions in them or if he should remove his palm from his cheek, or if he even should considering Madara’s hand was over his own now - would that be rude or was it expected? Who was supposed to move first? Should their noses be touching like they were, should he move further back, should he kiss him again? All questions his brother conveniently answered for him with his loud booming just in the other room, since the buffoon’s stumbling gait was coming towards them.
They jumped apart as if hit by electricity, though Tobirama’s jumping only made him hit the counter right behind him. He winced at what would surely be a bruise later, jerking his head to look firmly away from where Hashirama came bouncing into the kitchen, hoping to calm the color on his face before his brother saw it.
A needless effort, in the end. Hashirama saw the red on both their faces and snickered, assuming the alcohol had gotten to the both of them. Tobirama breathed easily when his brother instantly had his attention on his friend, laying on Madara and forcing him to bear his weight on his shoulders, squishing his cheek on him and ignoring the griping and swatting hands that tried to get him away.
But Hashirama was a hard one to ignore. Evidently they had started a drinking game while Tobirama and Madara had been busy smashing their lips together, and Hashirama simply could not let the birthday boy miss out on the party games. His teary eyes and wobbling lip did not, however, convince his little brother to join in such foolery, so it was only the two friends that went off to join the others.
The look Madara sent over his shoulder as he left, however, promised Tobirama would not be alone for the rest of the night. His neck heated up as he watched Madara turn the corner, the bickering fading with them as he was left to pick lint off his shirt while he thought of the turn the night’s events took.
Well…at least he knew his answer. Madara was interested in some fashion. Discovering just what sort of fashion could come later, when nosy fools were no longer in his home. Perhaps next time they could use their words instead of macking on each other like that. Either way, Tobirama supposed the night had went better than planned, despite the pitfalls and screw ups along the way - though he would be damned if he ever let anyone know not following his plans to the t still led to a satisfactory ending.