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"Fuck!"
Madara snarls curses under his breath as the yarn curls up on itself, twisting into knots. "You stupid fucking thing - "
"You're over twisting it." Tobirama's pen doesn't stop moving as he continues right on marking up the academic paper propped on his knees with notes on how wrong he thinks it is. "You've got to let go of it more."
The bastard doesn't even have the courtesy to sound smug about it, just absentminded instead, and it's the last straw.
"You can spin it then!" Madara bundles up the batt that fills his lap into a ball and chucks it at his husband, meanly taking satisfaction in the way it smacks Tobirama full in the face.
He's petty, he knows this about himself.
"I did offer, but you said you wanted - " Tobirama frowns at him, and Madara growls as he stands up from behind the infernal contraption Tobirama insists on calling a spinning wheel.
Tea.
He needs tea.
Tea will make everything right with the world again.
The teapot is right where he left it - not always the case when Tobirama was the last one to use it - and he pours in some genmaicha. The scent alone is calming, the ritual of pouring water into the pot even more so, and he's no longer fuming with frustration by the time he gets out two cups.
He's not going to try the wheel again though, Madara silently vows to himself.
No, he's going to leave that to Tobirama.
There have got to be some benefits to having married a spinner, right?