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1.
Hashirama smiled as he stood over Tobirama’s prone form, studying his little brother’s face slack with sleep. It wasn’t often that he got to see Tobirama so relaxed and vulnerable.
He leaned down closer to study the shape of his brother’s smoothened forehead, free from worry and bare from the protector he wore during the day, trying hard not to breath too deeply so he wouldn’t disturb Tobirama’s rest.
This, this was why he wanted a village. He wanted his little brother to be able to relax in his own home without the fear of attack or the worry of the sick and wounded. Hashirama wanted his brother to experience peace, more than anyone, more than even Madara, if he was being entirely honest with himself.
But not today.
“GOOD MORNING.”
Tobirama screeched and shot up, struggling and kicking at the blanket before he ripped it off and smashed his face into the floor as he attempted some kind of unholy cross between a wiggle and a crawl to reach a kunai he'd placed near his pillow but had knocked away in his mad struggle.
He was on his knees, knife in hand a second later, hair sticking up in every direction and Hashirama died.
“YOU BASTARD I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK,” Tobirama snarled, breathing heavily.
2.
“I’m so sorry Hashirama-sama I had no idea this would happen,” the woman gasped, her hands flying to her face, “If I had known-"
“Oh it’s fine don’t worry about it!” Hashirama hid the bottom half of his face behind his hand where he was desperately trying to hold back his laughter. “Kids will be kids after all!”
Honestly it was too funny for Hashirama to even attempt at being mad, the kid had to have some serious guts to try pulling this one off.
But he couldn’t exactly admit that to the little brat’s mother, he was clan head after all and had to keep his reputation at least somewhere above the immaturity he was currently at; trying not to burst into laughter at the situation.
“But this is unforgivable Hashirama-sama! To throw a fit and resort to such vile conduct after you clearly said no!”
A choked laugh slipped through before he could stop himself and he tried to cover it up quickly with a cough, face schooled into the utmost of seriousness.
“It’s fine it’s fine Shoko-San,” his lips trembled, “it’s not the first time a toddler’s lost it’s temper with me and wet my bed in retaliation.” And here, he tried to stop himself, he really did, but he just couldn’t let this golden opportunity go to waste— “why one time when Tobirama was little he—“
“HASHIRAAMMMA!!!”
In a second Tobirama hit the ground and charged at Hashirama with all the fury of a mad raging bull.
Hashirama fled laughing like a madman.
3.
Hashirama and Tobirama were attending a meeting between the heads of the major shinobi clans of Fire Country. A temporary truce had been called to discuss the migration and forming of a small clan from Earth Country just inside the boarders of Fire Country.
The clan heads were seated inside a spacious tent around a collection of long rectangular tables pushed together to form a sizable square.
There was a selection of plates filled with small appetizers to snack on during the meeting accompanied by jugs of water and sake, all provided by the Sarutobi clan who had taken the initiative to call for the meeting.
They were three hours in and Tobirama could tell Hashirama was bored out of his damn mind and trying very hard not to show it. And he wasn’t doing that bad of a job actually, Hashirama was good at pretending to give a shit, but Tobirama had more than enough experience to be able to pick out when Hashirama was listening and when he was decidedly not, and now was one of those times. Unfortunately for Tobirama, who always had to deal with Hashirama’s bullshit damnit, Hashirama and boredom did not mix well. He shifted in his seat, a feeling of dread creeping into his lower gut.
Despite his apprehension however, Hashirama did not act upon his boredom, perhaps sensing the significance and importance of this meeting. They couldn’t afford to mess this meeting up, really none of the clans could. It was called under the guise of discussing a migrating clan and potential future threat but it was clear to any clan head worth their salt that the real purpose of this meeting was that it was essentially a trial run to determine if there was any hope at all of possible alliances or working together in the future, and if not, who and what to be weary of.
The meeting had started sometime during midmorning and after hours of bland politics under the pretense of great importance they were now well into the afternoon. It was clearly being stretched and dragged out at this point, they had all long since exhausted any possible concerns they could have about a tiny little clan on the edge of Fire Country whom most of them would probably never hear of again, but as this particular matter wasn’t overly concerning, despite what it may look like from a military perspective, as such there wasn’t really any chance to scope out and analyze the standings of each clan.
A few had taken the initiative to engage in small talk and platitudes, unwilling to leave empty handed, which seemed more likely to be happening by the minute. It was dwindling down to an almost awkward atmosphere, with only a select few actually engaging in the talks, neither of which were Hashirama or Tobirama.
Contrary to what most people who knew Hashirama would think, he actually hated pleasantries just as much as Tobirama did.
Small chatter? Definitely. Genuine inquiries? Go for it. But pleasantries? He couldn’t stand them.
Tobirama always found this small fact to be amusing, because it sounded so outlandish next to Hashirama’s general air of optimism and sociability.
Tobirama shifted again, not even trying to sit presentable at this point. He leaned forward and rested his hand on his chin, eyes lazily following the conversation.
Another hour passed. His legs were stretched under the table now. Two hours. The Nara two seats down was snoozing. A third passed. The Akimichi had long since cleared out the plates on their side of the table and were now subtly (however that was possible) eating everyone else’s. Tobirama eyed the arm slowly creeping toward the plate in front of him and Hashirama. The Akimichi blinked at Tobirama. His fingers were barely an inch from the plate.
Tobirama blinked back.
He pushed the plate a few centimeters away.
The fingers followed.
He pushed it another few centimeters away.
The fingers followed.
Tobirama reached out—
The Akimichi snatched it away before he could push it again.
They eyed each other.
Another hour passed.
Someone mentioned a traveling seal master that showed up from Wind Country and a few started up the discussion of storage scroll prices. Tobirama leaned forward, interested.
He himself made all of the Senju storage scrolls since he’d picked up his own mastery of seals, so he’d long since forgotten how expensive they were, especially the larger ones.
Perhaps he could start selling some of his own, by way of their discussion it seemed he could make quite the hefty amount.
Most of the clan heads and their companions had joined in.
Tobirama took out a few sheets of paper and was jotting down notes that might aid him if he ever decided to seriously develop a small trade for storage scrolls in the future (which he highly doubted if he was being honest), pausing here and there to listen to the discussion.
He rolled the sleeves of his black shirt up past his elbows, eyes switching between a Yamanaka and an Inuzuka who were complaining about a shared seller who upped his prices every other day.
Out of the corned of his eye he saw Hashirama turn towards him.
Sarutobi had joined in now, apparently the storage scroll seller was one and the same with the merchant who’d ripped them off earlier that month with a shipment of shinobi sandals of the most horrid quality.
Hashirama leaned in and Tobirama angled his head towards him in question.
He saw Hashirama’s eyes lingering on his biceps, now on full display and a feeling of dread creeped in when he saw the corner of Hashirama’s lips turn up the slightest at the edge, eyes turning wicked.
"Mhmm choke me daddy."
Tobirama flew to his feet and before he knew it he'd smashed the jug of sake on Hashirama's head.
In a blinding rage he grabbed whatever he could reach to beat the ever-loving shit out of Hashirama, face furiously red.
Hashirama shrieked with laughter, stumbling back to avoid the second jug of sake and tripped over his own chair when he shoved it to the side to escape, his laughter echoing around the tent.
Tobirama saw his chance and he grabbed Hashirama, reared back, and kneed him in the groin, hard .
Hashirama collapsed like a puppet with severed strings, both hands clutching at his manhood in agony.
“Worth it.” He choked, face pale.
With a jolt Tobirama realized where he was and straightened in an instant.
He cleared his throat after a second, "My apologies. My brother is mentally ill."
On the other side of the table to the right Madara and Izuna were sitting with their eyes bugged, mouths gaping, across from them the Hyuga looked a mix between outraged and utterly baffled. To their left the Nara was eyeing Hashirama’s curled prone figure, glancing between the two brothers. Two seats down the Hatake, his cousins to be exact, were turning red trying not to burst into laughter.
Tobirama cleared his throat, and grabbing a new brush and inkwell (the previous of which had suffered an ill-timed demise at the hands of Hashirama’s stupidity), he carefully resumed pretending to make notes on his now sake-splattered, soggy, miserable piece of paper.
4.
This really really wasn’t the time for this, Tobirama knew that, but resisting Madara’s chakra was like seeing Hashirama bend over to pick something up in front of him and trying not to rear back and kick him like he deserved.
Which is to say, it was ridiculously hard to resist, and the closer he got to Hashirama’s ass— er, Madara, whatever, the stronger the pull of his deliciously scalding chakra was.
And so, despite the obviously inappropriate time and place, Tobirama can’t help but lean into the boiling furnace of Madara’s chakra and immerse himself bit by bit into his monstrous, burning reserves.
It was almost instantaneous, his joints easing, muscles relaxing and his shoulders dropping from the strained arch they’d been in for the last few weeks.
His breath catching in his throat as a wave of soothing boiling fire travels up his limbs and engulfs his entire body. He shuddered.
Almost in a trance he found himself swaying towards the heat, just a bit more, just a little more.
It was so incredibly, deliciously warm, Tobirama never wanted it to stop. He wanted to stay there wrapped up in Madara’s chakra forever and just forget about everything and everyone. If he could just have this, if he could just have Madara and his adorable flailing hands and his ridiculously poofy hair he’d be—
A choked cough echoed like thunder and Tobirama reared back, heart stuttering in his chest, eyes wide.
His eyes flew towards Hashirama, whose face was turning red, mouth gaping, eyes bugged, looking straight at Tobirama. For a second time froze as Tobirama, stuck on a precipice waited in breathless horror as Hashirama glanced back and forth between him and Madara. Time caught up and Hashirama roared with laughter finger pointing at Tobirama like he was the sorriest bag of meat to have ever walked the earth.
Tobirama shriveled up inside.
“HAH YOU MUST BE SO EMBARRASSED!”
Hashirama collapsed banging his fists into the dirt until cracks appeared, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“The hell is his problem?” Madara growled from a lot closer than Tobirama remembered him being.
“OH KAMI WHO NEEDS ENTERTAINMENT WHEN YOU HAVE A LITTLE BROTHER.”
Mortification was rolling off Tobirama in waves and he turned, face scarlet, only to find himself mere feet away from Madara himself.
He started so bad his heart threatened to jump out of his chest and he stumbled back away from Madara before he could stop himself. Madara’s eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, glancing back and forth between Tobirama and Hashirama who was still dying on the floor. He turned to look at Izuna who shrugged, eyes narrowed, fixed on Tobirama and oh kami did he know something? He didn’t right? He didn’t see anything right? Tobirama paled.
He couldn’t know anything about this— if Izuna ever came to know anything about this Tobirama would die of embarrassment.
He couldn’t take this anymore.
He turned around and fled.
5.
“So. Madara.” Hashirama bit his lip as he slid his hand around the Uchiha's shoulder, glancing over at Tobirama who was sitting behind his desk, glaring at Hashirama in suspicion.
“Got your eyes on a special someone yet?” He winked at Tobirama.
Tobirama bared his teeth, eyes bugged making cutting motions at his throat.
Madara scowled, immediately wiggling to get out of Hashirama’s grasp, “Why the hell would I be—” he pushed at Hashirama trying to shake him off— “Let go dammit!” Hashirama tightened his grip, smile widening as he barged on undeterred.
“Perhaps a tall, pale someone with red eyes, anger issues and a stick up his ass?” He asked innocently, wiggling his eyebrows.
“I’LL KILL YOU.” Tobirama mouthed, furious.
Madara stomped on Hashirama’s foot flailing widely before he smacked Hashirama’s ugly face with his elbow. Hashirama stumbled back with a cackle, ducking out of reach when Madara made for a second go at his nose, snarling.
“I’m pretty sure I would know if I had my eye on someone.” Madara snapped.
“You certain about that Madara?” Hashirama singsonged, ducking again as Madara narrowly missed his jaw.
“Look if you’re so hung up on this tall pale,” Madara cringed, “someone, whatever that’s supposed to mean, then why don’t you marry them yourself? Obviously you’re the one with your eye on them.”
Madara abruptly turned around with a glare, leaning over his desk to gather the papers scattered on it in sharp jerky movements.
“No I’m pretty sure that’s you.” Hashirama snickered at Madara, who was eyeing Tobirama suspiciously when Tobirama failed to yell at them to take their shit somewhere else dammit.
Madara turned back with a scowl, Tobirama wasting no time flipping off Hashirama with a vengeance.
“Whatever I don’t have time for this.” Madara snatched the papers off his desk, stomping out of the room with a huff.
He was barely three feet down the hall when a startled yelp followed by a resounding thump echoed as Hashirama crashed into the wall behind him with a screech, water dragon swallowing him whole, a five foot wave roaring down the hallway on either side.
Madara yelped, stumbling back to avoid the onslaught of water, scrambling to protect the stack of papers in his hands.
The water dispersed abruptly leaving Hashirama choking and sputtering on the ground like a drowned rat.
Madara froze, staring with wide eyes before he leaned over in slow stilted moments to peer into his shared office with Tobirama.
Tobirama, ever the model paper pusher, was sitting at his desk diligently filling out his stack of paperwork.