Work Text:
“There’s just too much paperwork because that immature asshole has no control!”
“What do you mean?” Hashirama peered over at where Tobirama was shuffling stacks of paper around on his desk.
Picking up one of the sheets, Tobirama waved it in Hashirama’s direction. “This! This is a complaint about the bakery on the corner by the new park! According to Izuna they have used, and I quote, the wrong type of brick.”
He picked up another paper. “And this! This is a request for an inspection of the tunnels below the water purification facility. Because Izuna thinks they will not hold in case of a rupture of the water-main. He oversaw the construction himself! Why?! Why is he doing this to me?”
Trying to be diplomatic, Hashirama softened his voice. “Have you asked him?”
The glare that garnered him made him wilt slightly. Tobirama’s growl added to that. “He said that he’s just taking his job seriously. That if the village is to function, then we have to make sure it is done right from the bottom up.”
“Well, he is not wrong.” Even as he said it, Hashirama knew it was not the right thing to say just then. Tobirama’s glare took on a distinctly vicious quality.
With a sniff he turned away. “Well, if you feel that way, you can look through the rest of this pile. I’m going to get lunch.”
Hashirama hung his head, but… With Tobirama in that kind of mood, it was better to give him time to cool down. Shuffling over, he picked up one of the papers, not eager to start, but figuring it was better to get at least some of these requests out of the way before Tobirama returned. Then he frowned. “What is wrong with the roof-tiles on the Academy?”
Tobirama was already gone, so the question hung in the air while Hashirama scanned through the rest of the page, getting to the bottom. The glaze? The glaze?! How the hell could the glaze be wrong on the roof-tiles?
As he looked through the rest of the stack, he felt confused. Some of these were completely valid, but most were… Pedantic might be the right word. It almost looked like Izuna was trying to sabotage Tobirama by swamping him with work. Why would he do that? What did he stand to gain? Except for wasting Tobirama’s time. Perhaps Madara could answer it?
He sent an assistant out to find the Uchiha clan head, then he sat down, going through the pile one by one, sorting them into valid complaints, and a pile that he in his head dubbed the what-the-fuck pile. It did not take long before the second pile was far higher than the first.
When Madara ambled in through the door, Hashirama pointed to the second pile. “Hey, can you take a look at these and tell me why your brother thinks that Tobirama should be spending time on that?”
The Uchiha narrowed his eyes, but complied with the request, picking up the first paper. It only took about three seconds before his expression of suspicion morphed into one of confusion. Then he picked up the next paper. And the next. And started to mutter to himself.
It was at that time Tobirama walked in through the door, carrying a stack of bento. He glanced at Hashirama and Madara before setting the boxes down on his desk. “I see you needed reinforcements, anija.”
The esteemed Hokage stuck his tongue out. Madara gave him an unimpressed huff, then he turned to Tobirama. “I apologize for my otouto. I clearly gave him too much credit.”
That had Tobirama narrow his eyes and step closer. “What did you do?”
Madara dropped the paper in his hand on top of the stack and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. When he dropped his hand and met Tobirama’s eyes, he looked apologetic. “I may have let something slip, and then he would not stop pestering me until I told him.”
Tobirama winced, then he took a deep breath, clearly trying to hold back his anger. Another breath, and he folded his arms over his chest, glaring at Madara. “You told him.”
With a sheepish look, Madara nodded. “Uh, yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me that you had told him.” By now Tobirama was tapping his fingers on his arm, a clear sign he was irritated.
Fed up with being kept in the dark, Hashirama asked “What did you tell Izuna-san?”
Madara glanced towards him, then turned back to Tobirama. “You didn’t tell him?”
Tobirama’s expression turned—well, there was no better word for it—petulant. “No, I did not yet. I was looking for the best opportunity.”
“But you said you would..!” It looked like Madara was about to work himself into a flail, so Hashirama moved around the desk, to get between his brother and his best friend, to prevent another fight.
“Of course I’m going to, just… It’s not something I could just tell him over dinner!” Tobirama’s voice sounded almost… apologetic. It made Hashirama turn from Madara, to look at his otouto. Who was pouting. What?
Madara huffed. “I would think dinner would be the perfect time to say something like that.”
“Like what?!” Hashirama was growing worried.
Madara took a step towards Tobirama, and Hashirama followed, still concerned. Then Madara reached out a hand and coaxed Tobirama’s hand away from his arm, tangling their fingers together. Hashirama stared uncomprehendingly.
Moving closer to Tobirama, so close that their arms brushed together, Madara told him “We’re dating.” He sounded so sure, and Tobirama did not refute it.
Hashirama’s eyes swung from Madara, to Tobirama, to their hands. “Oh. Uh… What?!”
“I am dating your brother.” Madara’s tone sounded slightly less sure now. Hashirama just blinked, because what?! Madara and Tobirama..? But they always fought? How could they..?
Seeking confirmation, he turned to Tobirama. “You… Are dating Madara? For real?”
“We’re sleeping together.” Tobirama smirked.
Madara flailed.