Chapter Text
Madara sat in the Hokage’s office, wearing the robe that Hashirama had unfortunately designed and with his wide-brimmed hat set aside. At first, he had laughed at his friend, asking why he created such a large and wide desk for him, but now, seeing it completely buried under stacks of documentation, the reason revealed itself.
“I swear, as the head of the clan, I never had to do so much paperwork,” he grumbled, putting the seal of approval on an A-rank mission and taking yet another almost identical assignment for a different job.
“That’s because you are a head of dozens of clans now, in a place that is still building,” Tobirama said coldly and with a thud dropped another stack of papers in front of him.
Madara leaned back, glaring at the Senju.
“Take it away. I haven’t finished reviewing the missions.”
“You should have been done with them fifteen minutes ago. You need to read this before the meeting with InoShikaCho at five.”
Madara rubbed the bridge of his nose. Was that why Hashirama wanted him to become the leader so badly? So that he wouldn’t have to deal with all this crap himself? If Madara had only known about the outcome, he never would have run for Hokage.
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door, and without waiting for permission, Hashirama poked his head into the room.
“There you are!” His friend exclaimed with delight. As if he could be anywhere else.
“Yes, Hashirama, what do you need?” Madara said wearily. The prospect of even more work did not inspire him at all.
“I’m done for the day, the weather is just perfect, let’s spar!”
Oh, yes, Amaterasu, please.
He started to get up...
“Absolutely not,” Tobirama cut in before Madara managed to say anything.
“What?” he barked.
The Senju tapped the stack of paper with his finger.
“Five o’clock meeting. Did you forget already? I just told you. And you,” Tobirama turned to his brother. Hashirama squealed a high-pitched “eeek!” and tried to disappear behind the door but the albino intercepted him before he could. “What do you mean you’re done for the day?! Weren’t you supposed to...”
Madara sighed and sagged into his chair, looking out the window with an unseeing gaze.
Despite how hard Tobirama had come down on his brother, he clearly favored him. Hashirama thrived in construction, public relations, and agriculture, and despite the amount of work, he seemed to have actual fun, while every day in this damn Tower was a living hell for Madara.
Hashirama groaned long and drawn out, bringing Madara out of his detached state of mind. Tobirama somehow managed to create another stack of documents out of thin air and loaded his brother with them.
“I’ll expect a report no later than nine o’clock this evening,” Tobirama said, pushing his brother out the door.
“But I will be home by nine o’clock!” Hashirama exclaimed with horror.
“And I’ll be home with you,” Tobirama retorted menacingly. “That is not an excuse.”
Well, Madara thought, at least he didn’t have to live with the White Demon.
Tobirama slammed the door shut and turned his full attention back to his Hokage. Madara suppressed the urge to call on his chakra as if preparing for a battle. This was Hashirama’s little brother, he reminded himself. He couldn’t hurt his best friend’s last surviving sibling. He wouldn’t be able to live with the devastation this would bring to his oldest and dearest friend.
And, well, killing his own advisers was a bad look for any ruler.
“Your mission review is overdue,” Tobirama said coldly, walking to his own table. Madara closed his eyes, fighting the urge to spit a fireball and just burn all his problems away.
Oh yeah, maybe he would have enjoyed being Hokage if Senju Tobirama hadn’t been his secretary.
***
“Maybe I would have enjoyed being Hokage if Senju Tobirama hadn’t been my secretary,” Madara complained over a cup of tea to his brother.
Izuna snorted. He lay sprawled on the ugly sofa that Hashirama gifted him for some reason, still in his work uniform. Blood stains that clearly didn’t belong to Madara’s little brother were slowly seeping through the flowered upholstery, clearly showing Izuna’s attitude towards such a gift. Maybe he thought that if he ruined it enough, he could finally throw out the sofa without creating a political incident and return their shared home to coherent decor.
“That man has a stick so far up his ass it can’t be surgically removed. I swear, he was more fun when we tried to kill each other,” Izuna said, and then silence followed. That was a very specific silence that Madara knew very well. It happened whenever his youngest sibling had something mischievous on his mind. Madara waited for his brother’s next words with anticipatory exasperation. “Or maybe... you should put another stick right next to the first one.”
Madara sighed and put the cup back on the low table.
“Izu, you’re losing me.”
Izuna sat up. His eyes glistered maliciously and his lips twisted into a sly smile.
“I’m saying you need to fuck him, Nii-san.”
“Izu!”
“What?! Put him in a happy mood for once in his life, that would solve all your problems.”
“Why in Amatarasu’s holy flames do you think he would entertain a thought of sleeping with me?”
“But Nii-san, you have all the tension for a good hateful hook-up! He literally fought to become your secretary. That’s saying something.”
“You provoked him into it and lost.”
Izuna grimaced. That was not his favorite memory. As soon as Madara won the election Tobirama gave a whole speech that he, naturally, would be his second in command and be basically responsible for everything done in the village. To “show unity” between their clans. And when Madara called him on his bullshit and asked if he would have allowed an Uchiha to be Hashirama’s assistant if his brother won, Tobirama immediately said no. Because “neither you nor Izuna have the necessary qualities to compensate for Hashirama’s shortcomings.” Bah! The man could logically explain his walk into hell if needed to.
Izuna, naturally, reacted to such a load of crap. He said that Tobirama could get the position over his dead body. Unfortunately, the White Demon took it literally. He didn’t kill him, of course, but managed to end the fight with Izuna being buried alive six meters underground. Hashirama had to dig him out with his roots because Tobirama refused to undo his jutsu.
Madara stood up. He was quite looking forward to a nice long hot bath, no matter how long Izuna would bang on the door demanding his turn.
“If this is such a magical solution, do it yourself.”
“Hey, I’m being fucked by Senju Tobirama every goddamn day, I don’t need it to be physical too!”
“And I’m not?”
“You’re his boss. He is my boss. That’s different.”
Madara rolled his eyes.
“I don’t even want to know the reasoning behind your logic.”
Maybe he could stretch out the bath time to three hours, just to make Izuna extra whiny.
***
The next day Madara was still fuming. As soon as Izuna realized his brother’s little revenge he slipped away to have a shower in a hotel room. Clearly, his younger sibling was in need of a good lesson. If he wanted him to put Tobirama into a good mood, fine, he had something in mind.
“Do you have any work that could be delegated to my brother from your busy schedule, Honourable Adviser Tobirama?” He asked the Senju in an even voice. “Izuna has time to spare.”
“He is already in a position perfectly suitable for his skills and personality,” Tobirama said without looking away from his documents. Madara raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Being the ANBU commander and a clan head is enough, he is hardly qualified for more than that.”
As if that was not impressive. Madara cocked his head to the side.
“Surely, there’s something of what you do, my brother can do just as well.”
Tobirama scoffed and looked him in the eyes.
“I doubt that.”
Nevertheless, he stood up from his little side table in the corner of the room and took out a hand-sized scroll from his bosom. When Tobirama stopped next to him and unrolled it, the thing turned out to be not so small after all. Its end was reaching the floor.
“What is this?” Madara said with slight irritation, taking the scroll by the middle and running his eyes over the symbols.
“A complete list of my responsibilities and current projects.”
What.
“You can’t be doing all of that, there’s not enough hours in the day!”
“There’s enough me to compensate for the inadequacy of the passage of time.” Tobirama turned his head toward his leader and clarified. “I use shadow clones.”
That certainly explained why he could do all this while sitting right beside him all day.
“Supervision of sewerage system construction... You can’t be an expert on this.”
“I did my research. Of course, I hire professionals in the field, but they are mostly civilians while a shinobi village has unique needs. I have infiltration missions under my belt that have exploited weaknesses in the sewer system. And I want to note that having water as your main nature makes these paths very exploitable. I also collected the data from other ninja who had similar missions about their experience.”
Now Madara understood why the Senju was so angry with all of them. Compared to him they must look downright lazy.
“Here,” Madara tapped one of the lines. “Development and planning of a cultural center. Izuna should suffice to oversee it since he has an interest in music and theatre.”
Tobirama looked at him with undisguised surprise.
“Uchiha Izuna?”
Well, that was just hurtful.
“I doubt you’ll ever have the kind of relationship where he’ll play the shamisen for you... but you can always dare him into it.”
Tobirama rubbed his chin looking thoughtful in a peaceful kind of way and not in the “I’m planning to destroy everything you hold dear” way he usually did.
“I see...”
He took Madara’s brush. There was a bit of hesitation but he still put Izuna’s name next to the task.
After a second of deliberation, Madara made his own Shadow Clone.
“I can free you from a task or two as well,” it said.
Tobirama looked at it with suspicion and hesitation.
“There’s no need.”
“It is an ungodly amount of work you are doing, Tobirama. I, frankly, feel outperformed.”
There was a hint of confusion in the Senju’s face. He made a last attempt at resistance by saying:
“It is ill-advised to use Shadow Clones the whole day.”
Madara rolled his eyes.
“I can handle it.”
The Senju looked down at his scroll staring at it far longer than necessary, and then marked one of the tasks.
“Monitoring patrols and guard rotations, it requires long-range sensing.” He walked over to his desk and pulled out a scroll with protective signs all over it. He handed it to the clone. “Read this. After you’re done, give it to my clone. Meet him on the roof, he will brief you and supervise your work until you are indeed suited to do it.”
“So thorough,” the clone said with a smile, taking the scroll. It went immediately using the window as an exit, clearly eager to do something more active than sit all day. Tobirama followed him with narrowed eyes. He went back to his desk and took out much bigger scrolls with “Cultural Centre” written on it. He created his own clone, which took it without another word and disappeared behind the door.
Just like that, Madara was left with his paperwork again but somehow he felt lighter. Especially when Tobirama’s clone returned with the information-sensitive scroll just after one hour. It poofed, making Tobirama grimace and rub his temple, sorting the new memories.
“Adequate work,” he said reluctantly, in a voice that said it was more than adequate but he would rather step on his own throat before admit it.
Madara just smirked and continued writing.
One more hour later a knock on the door made them both look up from their papers.
“Madaaaaara, fight me!” Hashirama started whining without any greetings right from the doorway.
Madara sighed. Didn’t he learn yesterday that as long as his brother stood guard like a ferocious dog, they weren’t allowed to do anything fun? He’d just leave with more paperwork.
“Hashirama...” He started but his friend already was by his table, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes.
“Come on, we didn’t hit training fields for weeks!”
“Hm,” Tobirama said, shuffling some papers, and Madara braced himself. Here we go, he thought, but instead of an angry speech about wasting precious time, the Senju said: “There are no meetings planned for today. You can leave for a couple of hours.”
Madara couldn’t believe his ears. Hashirama too.
“Really?” His friend said, sounding like a child whose strict mother finally allowed him to go outside instead of doing his homework. “Without even filling out three forms in six copies for time off?”
Tobirama glared at him, not impressed by his mockery.
“Yes.” He stood up and took a couple of papers from Madara’s desk, and relocated them on his own. “Both of you are the greatest weapons our village has. You need to stay sharp. Do not use training fields inside the village, they were recently constructed and you will just level them to the ground.”
Hashirama squealed. He grabbed his friend by the sleeve and Madara barely managed to stand up fast enough to avoid tipping over the table with all the papers from the force with which Hashirama pulled it.
“Let’s go!”
On his way outside the Tower, Madara was still bewildered. That was it? That was all he needed to do to be on Tobirama’s good side: acknowledge how much work the man did?
Unbelievable.
If so... He could work with this.
***
In the evening Madara understood why Tobirama advised against using clones for so long. He lay on the sofa, massaging his temple with a soft groan. Memories for the whole day were flooding his mind, giving him an enormous headache. And somehow Tobirama had ten clones running around. How come his head just didn’t explode in the evening? Clearly, there was a way.
He winced at the noise Izuna made when he burst into the house.
“Nii-san, you’re an asshole!” He shouted accusatorily and Madara couldn’t help but smile.
Chapter Text
Madara finally had the time to spend with Hashirama. He missed his friend dearly; paperwork was not what the village was all about. But now that he understood how Tobirama worked, his life became much easier. So much so, that people began to notice.
“He wants to fuck you,” Izuna said accusatory.
Madara rolled his eyes as he put on his black haori.
“This again...”
“Nii-san, yesterday he took the trade contracts from you without a single sarcastic remark!”
“That’s called being civil with each other.”
“Senju Tobirama can’t be civil!”
“You’ll be surprised,” Madara said, putting on his sandals.
He was going to dinner at Hashirama’s house for the second time this week. It had been a night well spent... but the next morning was not so wonderful. His friend could drink inhuman amounts of alcohol and still be fine, but Madara had to learn how shameful it felt to go to the hospital and ask a medical-nin for a quick fix.
The air outside was so sweet and warm, it filled his body with serenity with every deep breath he took. It was the end of spring but the scents of flowers were still heavy in the air. In the late evening, the streets were not as crowded as during the day, allowing one to move around the village with pleasant freedom.
Madara did not repeat the mistake of the last time. He sensed the surroundings the whole way to the Senju compound and therefore did not miss the ambush that his friend had set for him.
“Oooh, so quick!” Hashirama said, smirking as Madara gracefully dodged his jump.
“Hashirama, your wife almost killed us both when we showed up in dirty clothes last time.”
“Eh?! Mito didn’t say anything about that!”
“It was in her eyes.”
Hashirama chuckled but straightened up from his battle stance.
“I think Tobirama is rubbing off you,” he noted, starting to walk side by side with the Uchiha. “Next thing you will tell me to do my paperwork.”
“You should do it! You know how much stuff is delayed simply because we don’t know whether or not a bridge over the Naka River was finished on time?!”
Hashirama groaned.
“Oh, no, there are two of them now!”
Madara hit his friend’s shoulder and Hashirama laughed.
They walked into his friend’s home both smiling but when Madara met eyes with the lady of the house his expression soured.
She bowed.
“It is a pleasure to welcome you back in our home, Lord Hokage,” she said politely and Madara bowed in response.
“It is a pleasure to be here.”
She was clever, well-mannered but strict, and found Hashirama’s quirks, if not amusing, then tolerable. By all means, she was a great match for his friend.
He didn’t like her. He didn’t like her at all.
“Finally, I thought you would be late, like the last time.”
And here came the second bane of his existence. Senju Tobirama stood with his arms crossed and his gaze judgemental as always. He looked wrong in Senju-typical beige and green as if his whole being rejected a peaceful way of life. Armour and plain ninja black suited him much more. As did blood on his body.
“Otouto! Don’t worry, Madara kept us on track.” And he hit Madara’s back with a smile as if it was some kind of achievement worth praise. He just rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics.
The food was tasty and the company pleasant. Tobirama and Mito were mostly talking between themselves leaving their presence at the back of his mind unless Tobirama overheard something he couldn’t help but comment on with his harsh and unbending opinions. Even that stopped annoying Madara so much when food was stretching his belly and sake warmed his blood. He was laughing at something Hashirama said, which wouldn’t have been half as funny sober when Mito stood up.
“Please excuse the weakness of my body. I will retire to my chambers.”
“Eh?!” Hashirama immediately jumped to his feet. “I will help you!”
She hid her hands in her sleeves.
“My husband is quite generous for offering assistance when one is not needed.”
“No wife of mine should walk when tired!”
He scooped her up in his arms and Uzumaki braced herself for his embrace with the swift grace of a kunoichi of her caliber. The slightest of smiles curved her lips when her husband nuzzled her cheek with unfiltered drunken affection.
Cute, Madara thought, and immediately winced in disgust. He watched as Hashirama carried his wife away on surprisingly steadfast legs, mumbling some romantic nonsense. He emptied the cup of sake in his hand all too quickly.
That left him with the White Demon. Madara might have ignored him, after all, they weren’t at the Tower, he was not obligated to play nice in his free time, but the Senju drilled him with the gaze of his crimson eyes.
“What?” He dropped unfriendly.
Instead of answering, Tobirama slowly leaned all the way over the low table, placing his hands on Madara’s side to the clink of disregarded dishes. He stood almost on all fours just to be right in the Uchiha’s face and only now, with the smell of alcohol on his breath, Madara noticed that Tobirama was drinking too. For some reason, he thought the man refrained from sake like the Uzumaki did. Clearly, he should have paid more attention to his surroundings.
“You are jealous of Mito,” Tobirama stated, boldly looking right into the Uchiha’s eyes. It took an effort for Madara not to activate his Sharingan. Tobirama took his silence as an invitation to continue. “She is taking Hashirama away from you. And you are selfish.”
“You’re drunk,” Madara stated coldly.
“You are too.”
“Not enough to take your bait.”
“Not enough,” Tobirama repeated softly. He hovered a bit more in front of his leader’s face then slowly backed away without taking his eyes off the Uchiha. Even through the warm haze of alcohol, Madara thought:
Ah. So Izuna was right.
***
The next day, Madara sat at his desk, grimacing as he rubbed his temples in front of the unread letter from the daimyo. He had hoped to catch Hashirama in the Tower in the morning for a quick healing and save himself the embarrassing trip to the hospital, but somehow he had managed to miss him only by five minutes.
The way Tobirama noisily put down his papers and loudly pushed back his chair grated on his nerves and did not improve his mood. The man approached him and Madara expected a scolding about shirking his duties, but instead, he felt a cold, thin palm on his temple. His shinobi instincts screamed to grab the Senju by the throat and slam him into the table, but he remained motionless, allowing the healing chakra to enter his body.
Tobirama stood too close, his touch too intimate, and his approach unprofessional, and yet... Madara allowed all of this.
“Better?” The man asked, taking away his hand.
Madara just grunted but then reminded himself of his new approach toward the Senju.
“Much appreciated,” he acknowledged, and Tobirama nodded, returning to his table.
This is Hashirama’s last brother, he reminded himself and picked up the letter.
Chapter Text
Hashirama took advantage of the rare moment when Tobirama was out of the office to distract his friend from work, and yet somehow the conversation ended up being about the younger Senju anyway as if his ghost was supposed to hover over Madara’s shoulder as a condition of him taking Hokage’s robe.
“You’ve started getting along so well!” Hashirama couldn’t help but be overjoyed. He was sitting in a chair he created for himself right next to Madara and was carelessly resting his elbow on the desk. “You two get me really worried at the beginning.”
Madara hummed, sorting his documents by importance. If anyone had unique information on Tobirama, it was his older brother.
“Our relationships smoothed over when I figured out he liked to be praised,” Madara shared casually, as a little bait.
Hashirama blinked rapidly.
“Eh?” Then he sagged in his seat and his mood soured somewhat. “Ah, yes, he strives for recognition. You wouldn’t believe the things he had done just to earn a nod of approval from our father.”
It took a tremendous amount of effort for Madara not to react and stay relaxed and indifferent.
“Is that so?” He said instead with a slightly bored voice.
“Oh, yes. It was scary at times.”
Madara felt like a shark that smelled blood in the water. Now he understood what Tobirama wanted from him. He was a male figure in power over him, his direct leader, and that was a weakness to exploit...
No. Tobirama was Hashirama’s little brother. He couldn’t do such a thing to his friend.
“I see. I hope he sorted himself out,” Madara said diplomatically.
Hashirama’s face twisted in skepticism.
“Doesn’t sound like it.” He seemed to remember himself and started to wave his hands frantically. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve to be loved and cherished! He deserves to find someone who will meet all his needs!”
Madara looked at him with amusement.
“If you’re so worried about him, just arrange a marriage. That worked out splendidly with you and your Uzumaki. And you will even be able to plan a wedding, as you always wanted to.”
Hashirama crossed his arms and pouted.
“He wouldn’t let me.”
Madara laughed. His good mood seemed to put a smile right back on Hashirama’s face.
“Speaking of my happily married life that you just must witness... you’re coming to our place for dinner tonight, right?”
“Again?! Hashirama, are you trying to move me in with you?”
Hashirama’s eyes sparkled, and he sat straight in his seat, hovering over his friend uncomfortably close.
“Would you?”
Madara pushed him in the face with an open palm, causing Hashirama to fall back in his chair laughing.
“Stop it. What would your wife say?”
“Oh, don’t worry, she allowed me to have one pet.”
Tobirama opened the door to his brother wheezing a laugh in a choke hold.
***
It took Tobirama two weeks to become completely shameless in his advances. His comments often had a double meaning, he was looking for touch wherever he could and his provocations became so bold Madara noticed Shimura and Sarutobi clan heads looking at each other with clear “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” written on their faces.
He wanted him so much that he became unprofessional.
Madara couldn’t decide if this was pathetic or flattering. Amusing to a certain degree, sure, but mostly obstructive. Nevertheless, he endured it all... even if it was tempting.
There was a reason why Madara chose to remain alone even though he had no shortage of admirers: he couldn’t help but see a relationship as another form of fight. He wanted to take down the opponent, exploit their weaknesses, and ruin their defenses by force and his own cleverness. He couldn’t get excited otherwise.
Tobirama didn’t know what he was asking for.
The Senju stood next to him. He was pointing at different parts of the documents, trying to prepare him for a meeting with feudal lords. Tobirama stood close, much closer than necessary, his hip touching Madara’s shoulder. He bent too low too, his neckline slanting down to reveal the pale, thin skin of his collarbone. It was a direct invitation to look, and Madara lazily took it. Just a peek... but he could not help but glance to the hollow between two collarbones and then up the untouched column of his neck. Even his hand must look tanned against such a white skin. How easily was it bruised?
Madara suddenly noticed how many clothes the Senju wore... and how much he wanted to change that.
Oh. Oh, no. That wasn’t good.
He averted his eyes, returning them to the much less exciting papers in his hand.
***
“Nii-saaaan, I never saw a Water Style user this thirsty!”
“We are just working together,” Madara said, trying to decide which sandals were the cleanest to wear. Against his better judgment, he took another of Hashirama’s invitations. Luckily, his friend was too thick to notice his brother’s slow descent into insanity.
“Like hell you are! He touched your thigh!”
“He simply removed the leaf that fell from my hair.”
“Normal people use words for this, Nii-san! Knowing the Demon, he put that leaf there himself.”
He probably did.
Madara finally put on his shoes.
“Izu, there could be nothing between...”
“AAAAAH!” Izuna shouted, throwing his hands in the air. He paced back and forth a few times before stepping towards his brother and poking him in the chest with his finger. “Fine, I will prove it. I’m coming with you.”
“You? Willing to be in Hashirama’s presence for more than five minutes? The skies must be falling down.”
“Anything for you, Nii-san.”
Twenty minutes later he regretted his decision, however briefly.
“Izuna!” Hashirama shouted, causing Madara’s little brother to freeze in place. The bear hug came down on the Uchiha with the force of a deadly snare. “I’m so happy you could make it!”
“Let... go... you... oak!” Izuna wheezed into the Senju’s well-defined chest, fruitlessly trying to push him away.
Madara chuckled. Well, he asked for it. Hashirama saw in the younger Uchiha a free-to-adopt little brother which Izuna did not appreciate one bit.
The evening was going better than Madara had hoped. Izuna was quickly distracted by Mito. He was carried away by the polite political style of speech full of easy-to-refute innuendo that the woman seemed to breathe. It took Madara half an hour to realize that under the guise of pleasantries, they were exchanging intimate gossip about feudal lords but like every other evening, when the sake flowed freely, the Uzumaki excused herself and Hashirama happily jumped to his feet to take her into the depths of the house personally. As their footsteps faded into the distance, there was a couple of seconds of absolute silence at the table. Izuna was the first to break it.
“Is she pregnant?”
Madara hummed affirmatively.
“For about a month or two. My sensing isn’t perceptive enough to say more precisely.”
Tobirama scoffed at both of them.
“They are trying to keep it under wraps until it is clear the child will stay.”
“Aww, such a sweat, happy couple they are,” Izuna said in a tone that blurred the line between being genuine and mocking.
“Indeed,” the Senju agreed simply and took a sip from his cup.
“So, Tobirama,” Izuna said fully turning to the man. Oh, no. Madara immediately braised himself but it was not enough to prepare for his brother’s next words. “Do you plan to get married?”
Tobirama raised his eyebrow.
“It is inconsequential.”
“Come ooon, don’t you want to wake up next to a pretty face?” Izuna went so far as to bat his lashes and gracefully rest his chin on the back of his hand, openly hinting that his face was very pretty.
Was he flirting with the White Demon? Right in Hashirama’s house?!
Tobirama was cold and unbothered as always.
“No, I like them ugly.”
Oh, for fuck sake...
“Why are you looking at me, Senju?” Madara said with disdain.
“Why do you think I’m looking at you, Uchiha?”
Unbelievable. Madara had no words.
Izuna had none too, since he started choking on air.
As soon as Hashirama came back, Madara stood up.
“Unfortunately, we should cut it short today.” If his brother and Tobirama were like that as soon as Mito was gone, even his friend would notice.
“What? But whyyyy?” Hashirama whined.
“Your wife needs some respite from being a host so often. Let her rest.”
His friend pouted but didn’t argue anymore. Reluctantly Izuna stood up as well. He was glaring at Madara the whole short polite farewells.
As soon as they stepped out of the house Madara jumped on a roof and ran because his brother wouldn’t be silent and he would be loud.
And he was right. The second they reached their own home Izuna shouted into his face.
“Did you see that?!”
“Saw what?” Madara said wearily.
“You can’t be serious...” Izuna grabbed his brother by his shoulders. “Nii-san, let me explain what just happened: the White Demon flirted with you.”
Madara raised an eyebrow.
“He called me ugly.”
“Well, he’s mean, what else is new? He also told you bluntly he wanted to wake up next to you!”
Madara rubbed his face.
“Izu. I know what he is doing, I’m not blind yet.”
“You... you do?”
“He was starting to get really blunt with his “flirting” these past weeks. I think even the dead could see it,” Madara said sarcastically.
“What the hell. So what was this whole “oh, we just work together. Just two civilized shinobi, nothing to see here” farce?! You were saying this for the whole month! I thought I was going crazy! I thought my brother got some head trauma while I wasn’t looking!”
“Izu, calm down. It doesn’t matter, nothing could happen between us.”
“Why not?! He is practically lying in your bed already!”
Madara glared at him.
“You know how I am. I will ruin him.”
Izuna waved his hand dismissively.
“Just do it. Who cares about the White Demon?”
“Hashirama does. He will kill me.”
“Why would he? That huge log tried to set you up with his brother for weeks!”
Madara stared.
“What are you talking about, Izuna?”
“What did you think all those invitations to dinner were?! He is practically vibrating when he sees you two alone!”
“He... what?”
“Although that might be because he’s running a bet on whether or not you will get together.”
“He is what?!” Maybe he did have head trauma while Izuna wasn’t looking. “Does Tobirama know?”
Was this just an elaborate prank with him as a centerpiece?
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he does. He can’t bet, of course, but knowing him, he would just use a third party. That Sarutobi student of his put a suspicion big sum of money on...”
Izuna trailed off under the deadly gaze of Madara’s narrowed eyes.
“How do you know about the bet? Izuna. Did you make a wager?”
“That’s not important right now, Nii-san. What important is for you to fuck your secretary.”
“Izu!” Madara threw his hands into the air. “I can’t believe you! You despise Hashirama!”
“Hey, this is strictly business! I can put my feelings aside. Just as you should put yours and fuck your secretary...”
“Izuna!”
Chapter 4
Notes:
This was supposed to be a fun little "crack treated seriously" fic about Madara sleeping with his secretary... and then it went places
Chapter Text
Madara thought about the new revelation the whole night and the better part of the day. The sun began to set, painting his office in crimson tones that gradually plunged the room into darkness. It was the end of an unusually cold day for summer.
He stopped writing.
It was dangerous to acknowledge the tension between him and the younger Senju but it was getting ridiculous. Everyone seemed to be involved in it. Madara threw down his brush in irritation and turned his head towards his assistant.
“Did you know Hashirama is running a bet whether or not we will get together?”
Tobirama looked up from his own documents and huffed.
“Naturally. I suggested it.”
Madara stared at him.
“What?”
Tobirama stood up and walked toward his desk.
“Otherwise he would have interfered in my affairs.” The Senju leaned on Madara’s table with crossed arms, the side of his leg touching his superior’s knee. “He wanted to organise our wedding the moment we exchanged a few words without wanting to cut each other’s throats. It was annoying.”
Madara leaned back in his chair and looked out the window for a few seconds.
“Wonderful,” he said without emotion.
He was going to have a nice long vacation and leave Hashirama in charge of all this fucking paperwork with his beloved brother breathing down his neck.
Tobirama shifted on the table. He moved his leg, rubbing his foot against the inside of his Hokage's calf, and Madara rolled his eyes.
“Drop the act. There will be nothing between us.”
The Senju scoffed.
“What's stopping you? Cowardice?”
Madara’s cheek twitched. He leaned forward and spoke in a dangerously sweet voice:
“I know what you want from me, Senju Tobirama: to fill the hole your father carved in you with indifference. And you are not wrong, I can give you what you crave... and take more than you should give. There will be nothing left but a hollow husk of your mind behind.”
Tobirama blinked in disbelief and then narrowed his eyes.
“You think I will let you walk all over me?”
“There is a precedent.”
The Senju studied him for a few seconds with pursed lips.
“Then swear you would never repeat to anyone my next words.”
Madara raised his eyebrow.
“The promise is granted,” he said easily.
Tobirama slowly leaned down, filling Madara’s view with his sharp predatory face until they were almost nose to nose.
“I killed my father.” The words fell heavy from his pale lips and for a second Madara thought he had misheard but Tobirama continued: “He was going mad and refused to give up his position. Hashirama was a much better leader, everyone could see that but no one was willing to challenge the authority and do what must be done. I was correct, our clan thrived under him.”
Madara stared into the Senju’s cold crimson eyes.
He forgot the last time he was this hard. Maybe the first time Hashirama beat him? The promise of a struggle, the excitement of push and pull, the anticipation of a fight...
He lifted his arm and gently caressed Tobirama's cheek, touching his delicate skin with the rough texture of his leather glove. The man leaned into the touch, starved and desperate for attention.
“Oh, Butsuma... He raised exactly what he wanted: a perfect weapon for his clan’s prosperity.”
He could see the path clearly. Praise, too much and too often, let him get addicted to it... and then stop, without reason or explanation. Then start with the little things, a displeased grunt here, a little too harshly said word there... perhaps undeserved, perhaps not. Let him try to seek causes and patterns where there were none. He would do anything to bring the affection back, be as desperate as he was in trying to attract Madara’s attention. Even more.
How long would he last? How long would he fight back?
“Then give me your own promise, Tobirama... Whenever it is too much, run to your brother. Cry, yell, hide behind his back... Do whatever you need to do to stay whole.”
Tobirama grimaced in disgust.
“I’m not that pathetic.”
“But you will be. I will make sure of that. And you, my dear Tobirama, have your fingers in our village’s every part. We can’t have you broken.”
Tobirama's nostrils flared.
“You still think I’m weak.”
Madara’s hand dug into the Senju’s hair and he grabbed him roughly by the back of the head, bringing their foreheads together in aggressive mockery of affection.
“No, you’re not weak. But I’m stronger. It is my condition if you want to pursue me. Take it or leave it.”
The Senju was silent. He was proud but Hashirama was the only one Madara could never defeat. For this to work Tobirama must have a place to hide.
It still would be thrilling to pry him from behind Hashirama’s back and try to finish the job. It could even last for years, depending on how resilient Tobirama turned out to be. How exuberant.
He needed to talk to his friend about this. His little pet might be too proud to ask for help.
Finally, the Senju nodded.
“Alright.”
Madara’s lips parted into a smile.
“Splendid, my dear Tobirama.”
His grip on the man’s nape became dangerously strong. He stood up dragging the Senju up with him, and pushed him onto the desk. Tobirama was able to lean on his hands in time, saving the contracts that Madara had just signed.
“What are you doing?! These are important documents!” There was real anger in Tobirama’s voice. “Do you want to jeopardise our village for this?!”
“But I won’t,” Madara said, still grinning. With him standing and Tobirama leaning back, there was an illusion that he was taller. He loomed over the man. “You will make sure of that. You are that good, Tobirama.”
He placed his hand on the cozy spot under the man’s neck and pressed. Tobirama was as unyielding as a rock, even when he used chakra to increase the pressure, but Madara could feel him giving way under the sheer force.
Tobirama kicked him in the guts.
The Uchiha was able to block the hit, but its strength forced him to step back, giving Tobirama room to stand up and stop hovering over the contracts. The Senju was breathing heavily and his eyebrows were furrowed in a frown.
Madara laughed.
“Good, Tobirama, good. You are showing such promise.”
No hesitation in fighting back. No fear. No running away. This would be fun.
The Senju hastily moved away from the table, foreseeing that this was not the end. Madara threw off his Hokage robe with his undershirt onto the chair, watching him choose a strategic place that was farthest from anything valuable.
The Uchiha stood only in his black pants and gloves, his muscles on display. He ducked towards Tobirama, striking while still in motion. His opponent parried the hit as well as the following ones. Arm, leg, arm, arm, leg... Oh, how long had it been since he had fought not with the goal of killing but to physically put a man into submission?
Tobirama could never win this fight, not even because Madara was stronger, but because he cared that they were surrounded by important documents while his opponent was not. He tried to fight carefully... so it didn’t even last long. Madara hit him face-first into the wall, so close to Tobirama’s own desk that the man jerked, trying to move away sideways, even in a hold.
“It’s sheer idiocy to do it like this,” he wheezed out. “This location is insecure and...”
“Does it look like I care?” Madara growled into his ear.
The Senju hit him with the back of his head. They were both using chakra to protect themselves, so no real damage was done, but it was enough for Tobirama to free his hands and make signs. Immediately a clone appeared but it didn’t enter the battle, instead, it rushed to lock the door and close the curtain on the window, plunging the room into complete darkness. Tobirama wasted the precious opportunity to create his little helper, giving Madara the chance to knock him down. He put the Senju on his knees, holding his arms behind his back with one hand. The clone sealed away the papers from both desks and disappeared.
“So resourceful and clever,” Madara whispered into his ear, while holding him by the throat and feeling the man's rapid heartbeat under his fingers. “Truly a gift that fell into my hands.”
Now that Tobirama felt secure, his behaviour changed. He had no need to distract Madara anymore, so he stopped struggling against a harsh hold, instead, he leaned back into his Hokage’s chest, like a hungry cat ready to rub against human legs.
“You saw nothing yet,” he answered promisingly.
“Mmm, I will.” He stood up, roughly pushing the man away, making him stand on all fours. “But not today.”
Tobirama glared up at him with an angry look of betrayal, watching Madara walk back to his desk.
He didn’t like “no” as an answer and he was determined to get something today, so when he rose from his knees he jumped on his leader. Madara managed to turn around, but continuing the fight was not what Tobirama wanted. He locked their lips in a passionate kiss. Madara’s hip painfully hit the edge of the table from the force with which the Senju had run into him and his neck ached from the awkwardly raised head. If this was going to happen, Tobirama would not be in control. Madara grabbed the man’s chin, opening the Senju’s mouth wider and giving himself more access inside. The kiss was suffocating, wet, bordering on disgusting, but Tobirama still moaned from the tongue that penetrated the depths of his mouth.
Madara’s cock pressed against the man thigh begging for friction. He could claim the man’s mouth in more ways than one today... No-no. He wanted this thing to last.
“Not today,” he repeated gently when they separated.
The Senju pouted. It was a cute look on him.
“Why?”
Madara chuckled, wiping his mouth from excess saliva.
“You always know what you want, don’t you, Tobirama?” He stole a glance down the man’s throat. Tobirama’s nipples were so perked, they tented his black turtleneck even despite chainmail underneath. Madara resisted the urge to pinch them. Not now. He would not touch anything below Tobirama’s neck in any intimate way until he was withering in the need of his touch. Let him be bothered by it and make his brilliant mind wonder why he is neglected when he is being so good. “I know what I want too. And right now I want you to wait.”
Tobirama turned his head away from him, pouting even more. Oh, Amatarasu, he was sulking. What an adorable pet he would have.
Madara brushed strands of hair from his lover’s forehead with a smile.
“Do not worry, your performance today was perfect.” He gave him one more kiss, chaste this time, to the side of his lips. “So much so, you should pray I will not fall in love with you.”
Tobirama turned his head back to him and Madara couldn’t help but cradle the side of his face.
“What would happen if you do?”
“I will strip you of everything you are until you’re safe and docile under my care, under my rule.”
Tobirama frowned.
“No one is truly safe.”
“I wouldn’t care. And that’s the danger. I will declaw you and you will die, waiting for my protection.”
Tobirama huffed, and straightened up, disgusted by the notion.
“It would never happen.”
Madara hummed.
“No, not if you honour your promise.”