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"Sorry, sorry!" Madara winces as he steps on his husband's toes again, but Tobirama doesn't even flinch.
Madara cringes inside at the idea that his husband is so used to being trampled that he doesn't feel it anymore, but does his best not to let it show on his face. Surrounded by all these people who he used to carry water for, he can't afford to look vulnerable, especially when he - somehow - managed to steal the heart of the second prince for his own.
"It's fine, love." The low rumble of his husband’s voice, quiet enough not to be heard by the other dancers all around them, is just as reassuring as the warm hand on his back. "I don't mind."
"You might not mind, but I do." Madara knows he's not very tall but he is muscled from all the work he used to do, and that makes him heavier than any of the dainty ladies that fill the court. "I should know this dance by now!"
"But you don't need to." Tobirama smiles down at him, grabbing his waist and swirling him out of the pattern into the clear space in the middle. "You're a hawk among doves, my love - there's no reason to attempt to hide your plumage to match theirs. Fly free with me, and know I'll never let you fall."
The music speeds up, picking them up and carrying them along, but Madara relaxes into his husband's arms and... it is easier like this.
Following his husband's lead, trusting it, isn't hard anymore, not after a whole year of marriage, and that seems to apply to dancing as much as any other part of their lives together.
The violins finish with a flourish, and Madara bows deeply, never letting his eyes leave the appreciative red ones which always seem to linger on him. They sleep together every night, waking tangled in the morning, but they've never done anything except sleep.
But the look in Tobirama's gaze kindles warmth in his gut, and Madara can't help wondering if they might match just as well in a dance of a different kind.
He'll just have to wait... and see.