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"Tobirama~!"
The singsong tone of his brothers voice was almost enough for him to put his clothes back on and run from practice, but the pool was calling. Choosing instead to ignore the lugheaded nuisance, Tobirama dove into the pool with one flip flop still on his foot. Avoiding Hashirama was important enough to sacrifice some footwear.
It didn't last long however, as Tobirama was not a fish (despite his deepest wishes) and he had to surface for air eventually. And since Hashirama had known him all his life, and even though Tobirama liked to pretend he could dupe his fool of a brother, the man was waiting for him exactly where he surfaced. Fuck.
He wasn't alone.
Tobirama started to wipe he water out of his eyes as his brother pulled him out of the pool by one arm and dropped him unceremoniously on the tile.
"Remember that guy who showed up with Mito last week? And remember how I said he looks like a swimmer? It's amazing Tobirama but he is, can you believe it?!"
(Tobirama could. While Hashirama had no common sense, his swim-dar was honed beyond imaginable perfection.)
Hashirama had continued his excited ramble, unaware of his brother's wandering thoughts. "He's agreed to join the team! Wants me to introduce him to everyone first but he's going to join isn't that great? And he swims butterfly, we need someone new and Toka's angry at me for not getting someone to join earlier. But I couldn't find anyone who had the right feel, you know? But Madara is perfect - oh, this is Madara, by the way - and his little brother swims too and I'm sure he'll join if..."
Hashirama continued babbling but Tobirama chose to ignore him once more in favor of the man next to him, whose eyes hadn't left his body since he was hauled from his paradise. He slowly stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off of the back of his jammers to analyze the burning gaze on him (that predictably followed his movement to rest on his ass). He raised his eyes to survey the man and froze, so quickly and minutely that no one but Hashirama would have noticed, if he had closed his mouth long enough to pay attention.
The man is practically short next to Hashirama, but he's broad and impossibly muscled. Coupled with his pale skin is a practical mane of dark hair tumbling down his shoulders, the same black as his eyes that were burning as they made contact with Tobirama's own cold red irises.
He reeked danger, and Tobirama had a burning desire to see him in a leather jacket and little else. His imagination didn't need much help on that end - Madara wore a sinfully microscopic speedo that must have been the work of Mito.
Damn that woman for knowing his exact type. She must have been involved in this nonsense, he knew it.
Despite his flustered moment, Tobirama managed to give Madara a disinterested once over before jumping back into the pool.
His jammers couldn't hide his interest, and he wasn't too sure he wanted to either.