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Tobirama couldn’t wipe the scowl from his face, even as Izuna elbowed him sharply. They bow deeply in unison, and sink into supplication before the Uchiha clan leader in his formal reception hall. Tobirama had never seen this room in the clan compound before, used for official clan business and requests. After the village had been established, much of the clans responsibilities had been relieved, and Madara and Izuna both had offices in the Hokage’s tower anyway.
But today Madara received them here. The big red Uchiwa behind him on the shoji was like the clans infamous sharingan, staring him down as Tobirama forced himself into submission before Madara. He felt like baring his teeth at it, the ancient symbol of the enemy he'd been raised to despise. His alpha instincts screamed in revolt, rankling against the blow to his pride. He turned his head slightly, baring his neck in submission just the slightest bit, his hands clenched tightly on his on his knees.
He raised his head slightly, averting his eyes from Madara, who sat, scowling fearsomely, ill contented chakra and his dissatisfied scent flowing off him in waves. His pheromones were nauseating, even shot through with the familiar woody scent of Tobirama's brother and the milky sweet scent of his nephews.
Tobirama had to admit, Madara was frightening, even despite his rounded stomach and infant clutched to his chest. Sat resplendently in front of the Uchiha crest, Tobirama’s brother in law resembled some sort of primeval Omega god, pregnant and glowing, a child in his arm, a snarl on his lips, free hand white knuckled around the hilt of his enormous war fan. He had dressed in an unfamiliar formal kimono today, and his red armor was polished- the parts of it that still fit him. It was a striking image, one of a man ready to kill. Tobirama could nearly feel the sear of the sharingan as Madara stared him down.
He glanced at his brother, wearing a formal robe of Uchiha blue, Uchiwa embroidered on the collar, his status as a married in outsider rather than a born Uchiha. The Hokage’s hat was perched on his head, and he was seated in seiza at the foot of the Madara’s seat, their other fat pup peacefully dozing in his arms. Hashirama gave Tobirama an encouraging, subtle thumbs up that prompted a near synchronous eye roll from Tobirama and Izuna.
“Speak!” Madara barked, and Tobirama’s is mortified to find that his palms are damp with sweat. He lays them on his legs, trying to surreptitiously dry them. Madara’s eyes flick to his movement, unimpressed. Tobiramas scowl deepened. He wasn’t nervous, necessarily. He was going to be Izuna's mate whether his completely unhinged, overbearing, paranoid, ruthless-
Hashirama cleared his throat in the silence, snapping Tobirama from what was sure to be one of many of his lengthy internal tirades against Madara. Little had changed in the relationship between Tobirama and Madara, even though Madara had mated his brother and gotten himself knocked up. Twice. Even as Izuna and Tobirama grew close, he and Madara remained at each others throats.
Tobirama tried to focus. Right. He would be Izuna’s mate, whether Madara gave his approval or not. As Senju clan head, the space being abdicated by his brother after his mating into the Uchiha, Izuna could mate into Tobirama’s clan if he needed to, but Izuna really wanted his brother’s blessing on this. Why was anybody’s guess. Madara and Hashirama hadn’t thought of anybody else but themselves when they had started this whole mess of a village, when they met each other in the woods surreptitiously and kick started this whole village experiment. Madara was Izuna’s last family member, and they were bonded in a way that Tobirama had trouble understanding, even though he too only had a brother left in this world. His working theory was that the weightened emotions of the sharingan, and omega social bonds contributed to their codependence.
But Tobirama and Izuna were trying to set a good example for the village, for clan unity and so here Tobirama was, baring his neck to one of his least favorite people, asking for his brother’s hand.
For Izuna's sake, he would do this. Izuna and he had a rocky start, growling at each other on either side of the Naka. They'd crossed blades, exchanged jutsu for years and years, growing up with one another from afar. They'd left their marks on each other's bodies.
Izuna and Tobirama had respectively been the most suspicious of their brother's plans for peace, but they also shared an inherent trust in their older siblings. They were heavily involved in the planning of Konoha alongside them, often pushed together out of the way so the disgustingly enamored couple could spend the time together they'd longed for.
Tobirama had been tasked with finding interested clans to subsume into the village, and Izuna had drafted carefully worded peace treaties that got sent to their potential allies. Izuna was a careful researcher, memorizing old tomes of local lore and politics, clan cultures and stories, learning everything he could about a clan before drafting the treaty. Tobirama was impressed by his thoroughness, begrudgingly at first.
Eventually it became less of a chore for Tobirama to bring things to Izuna. He consulted the Uchiha on matters completely unrelated to the work they did together, as he learned to value Izuna's knowledge base and trust his judgement. Izuna was shrewd and cautious, and he carefully considered the full scope of the information he gathered before he made decisions. Izuna began to appreciate Tobirama's calculating perspective, so similar to his own. He was interested in Tobirama's jutsu experiments, eventually even testing some of them himself. They worked well together.
It was enough for a tentative friendship to form, which soon blossomed into more. The more time they spent side by side, ironing out the various bureaucratic complications that came with their brother's idealistic dreams, the closer they became. Izuna, sharp and teasing, never failed to get a rise out of blunt Tobirama.
Tobirama had always appreciated Izuna's looks, his slender form and full lips, his swathe of raven hair, even when they were enemies on the opposite sides of the battle field. His attraction became only more intense as they worked and fought together, as they made physical the impossible.
Their courtship had been stunted and awkward at the beginning, both of them slightly shocked by their own audacity. But it was easy to be around Izuna, Tobirama found, and when he wasn't there, Tobirama found himself turning for him anyway. He noted new restuarunts he thought Izuna would like, and collected books for him. It seemed every spare thought went to Izuna, attracted to him like a magnet.
It was not long before they were both in too deep, and Tobirama found himself kneeling beside Izuna in front of his brother.
“Thank you for meeting with us Uchiha-sama. Beside me is Lord Senju Tobirama, my intended mate.”
He took a deep breath, and bowed to Madara stiffly once again.
Tobirama was not afraid of this man, he reminded himself. He’d seen Madara exhausted after birth, snuggled in his nest with his mate and pups, all glowing and soft and crying. He’d encountered him cranky after sleepless nights with Tobirama’s colicky nephews, seen him covered in baby vomit and milk. Tobirama remembers, disturbingly, a drunk, surly, blushing Madara falling all over Hashirama, hands a little too bold for public, and how utterly ridiculous it had been. He’d seen him be wooed by Tobirama’s goofy brother, giving him shy smirks at his idiotic lines. He'd seen him soft, knew it was theoretically possible. Tobirama tried to remember those times when Madara had proved that he too, was human, as he sat in front of him, trying not to cower.
His nephew in Madara’s arms blew a snot bubble with his nose, and squirmed a little in his mother’s grip. Which by all accounts should have lightened the mood a little. But somehow, he couldn’t focus on it. Madara’s presence was so oppressive, the thick blanket of pheromones hostile, it truly felt like he was kneeling before the shrine of some wrathful god of fertility and war, looking at him like Tobirama had come to loot the temple.
He swallowed hard.
“Uchiha-sama, I come before you today to…”
Tobirama had wrote it down before he’d come here, had formatted his speech perfectly, consulted dusty Uchiha etiquette guides and poetry. All the words he was going to say were dust on his tongue, and he strained for them. He could feel sweat beginning to head on his hairline and he struggled to suppress his nervous pheromones. His mind raced, and he could feel his face heating in shame and embarrassment, even as he struggled to remember what he’d been saying.
Izuna didn’t look over at him, but he reached over, his cool scarred fingers lacing together with his. Tobirama steadied himself. This was no battlefield, no important mission, there was no reason to be so nervous. It was just a formality, Hashirama and Izuna had assured him. Izuna had wanted it, and it was within Tobirama’s power to make it happen. So Tobirama would make it happen.
For Izuna, anything.
“I’ve come before you today to ask your blessing for our mating.” Hashirama smiles warmly, softly at him. Tobirama averts his gaze, his pale cheeks heating an even darker pink. Izuna's posture was tall and proud.
Madara's upper lip twitched up into a scowl of displeasure. Tobirama resisted, valiantly, the urge to return the sneer.
"Make your case," His voice is icy, even as he bounces his squirming son, trying to get him to settle. This was the Madara Uchiha that faced him on the battle field, not the childhood friend that crossed blades with Hashirama. The cold blooded killer, the monster, slaughterer of Senju.
Tobirama swallowed hard. There wasn’t a thought in his mind.
“Izuna is… utterly singular.” He said quietly. “I have never met his equal. He is my match, my better sometimes, across the battlefield and beside me in the office. He has become incredibly dear to me, more dear than I thought I could be for a person. I humbly beg for your permission to mate him. Even without it, my feelings nor intentions will change, but,” Tobirama grit his teeth. “I am prepared to beg.”
"What would you do if I said no," Madara asked, his dark eyes boring into Tobirama, leaning forward. Tobirama's lip lifted in a snarl.
"Madara!" Hashirama pleads, looking between Tobirama and his mate. Izuna is blazing with anger, fists quivering on his thighs.
"You'd be a massive hypocrite," Izuna hisses, livid. Tobirama is nearly suprised not to see the crimson of the sharingan spinning in his eyes, just the gleam of tears brimming at his waterline.
There is an unpleasant twist to Madara's mouth, like he'd eaten something sour, or the child in his arms had spoiled his diaper. He stares at Tobirama hard, and it takes everything in Tobirama to look back at him, defiant. His insides are shaking, but he knows, logically, that Madara would prefer to lose this battle than his brother. It's on Madara to realize that, too. He'd only gone through this as a courtesy to Izuna, to fulfill a ritual that meant a lot to him, that Hashirama had done for Madara. If Madara ruined it…
Hashirama's glancing between Tobirama and his mate anxiously, not even noticing when his son puts a lock of his long hair into his mouth. The room is incredibly tense, the agitated hormones making everyone's eyes burn and nose twitch.
Izuna slammed one of his hands to the ground, making Hashirama jump.
"This is ridiculous! You don't have a good reason to say no!" He began stomping to the door, only slightly hindered by his regal dress. Tobirama looked between his retreating mate, and Madara, still sitting on his ridiculous throne.
Madara huffed a resigned breath out, slumping into his chair. The bruises around his eyes are pronounced, the lines deep.
"I don't," He agreed, the words dragged from him. He grit his teeth visibly. Tobirama rolled his eyes. "And I won't."
Izuna whipped around, glaring at his brother. Madara held up his hand, acquiescant, exhausted. Tobirama huffed, rubbing his brow with consternation.
"I, the Uchiha Clan leader accept your suit of my brother, Uchiha Izuna." A brittle smile curving on his lips. Tobirama blew out a sigh of relief. He bows again, short and stiff and glaring. Finally he takes Izuna's hand. He presses a soft kiss to the delicate, milky fingers and gives Izuna a wry grin. Izuna just rolls his eyes at Madara's dramatics. Hashirama hunched over at the front of the room, clutching his chest.
"You scared me there for a second!" He laughed. Tobirama rolled his eyes at Hashirama's theatrics, but privately agrees. Izuna was still glaring at his brother, a cute frown on his lips. He marched up to the dais, hands on his hips.
"What is your problem!?" He snapped, throwing a punch, one that lands on his brothers' arm with a more than friendly sound. Madara sighs, letting go of the gunbai -finally- to ruffle his brother's hair. His expression is fond and sad, stretched thin.
"I don't like him," He said shortly, like Tobirama wasn't standing right there. Izuna hits him again.
"Too bad! He's family now!"
"I've been family," Tobirama reminds them crossly. Madara slants his eyes at Tobirama.
"Barely. You're only half brothers."
"Madara," Hashirama pleads, and his voice has the exhausted, threadbare quality of a well worn argument, one they've picked at many times. He rises to his feet, clasping Tobirama on the shoulder. His brown eyes are watery, Hashirama's emotion always seeming on the precipice of bursting out of him.
Madara seems like he wants to fold his arms into an obstinate frown, something he is incapable of with his hands full. He leans down to whisper into Izuna's ear, casting a mistrustful gaze at Tobirama the whole time. Tobirama frowned at him, but shakes his head and tries to ignore his brother in law, instead turning back to Hashirama, smiling thinly at his brother.