Friday night came around far sooner than Madara was prepared for. As it were, Madara was unprepared for a lot of things. Such as Tetsujin showing up at his dorm room. And the fact that he had apparently agreed to go to the basketball game tonight during their evening at the pub.
Tetsujin leaned against the doorway, ticket in hand, and all Madara could do was stand there like a dolt wondering what vengeful deity had it out for him.
“You’re coming, right?” Tetsujin asked, smile unwavering despite Madara’s speechless gaping.
“I…” Goddamnit. Goddamnit. “Uhh…”
His hesitation was what finally made Tetsujin’s expression falter, and fuck if it weren’t one of the most heartbreaking things Madara had ever seen. What was worse was that he was the cause of it.
“He’s got a date tonight,” Yagura provided helpfully from inside the dorm. Madara clenched his jaw. He was definitely going to make that bitch eat those condoms.
“It’s not a date,” he corrected immediately without looking back at Yagura. “I just… I...forgot…” Shit shit shit shit shit.
“Oh…” Yup. That one word was right on par with Hashirama’s puppy dog eyes. “Well—that’s okay! Really. It’s just a game, and I can’t ask you to ditch your date,” Tetsujin said with an obviously forced chuckle.
“It’s not a date,” Madara repeated with a note of exasperation, but he figured he was losing that battle. “I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry. I’ll come to the next one, I swear.” He prayed to God that he wouldn’t fuck up that one.
Tetsujin smiled; it was softer than those he usually gave, but genuine nonetheless. “Okay, but you have to let me buy you dinner again afterward.” Madara sighed, half in relief and half in incredulity. This guy really just did not give up. Regardless, Madara found himself returning the smile.
“Okay,” he agreed.
Yagura poked his head around Madara then, eyeing the ticket still in Tetsujin’s hand.
“If you don’t have anyone else in mind, I’ll go,” he offered. Tetsujin’s smile widened and he held out the ticket.
“Sure. It starts at eight-thirty,” he said. Yagura smiled back and plucked the ticket out of his hand.
“I’ll be there~” The blond winked and Tetsujin cleared his throat before bidding his farewell. Madara waved and closed the door before rounding on Yagura.
“What the hell?”
“What the hell what? That was absolutely pitiful,” the man said. “Trust me, I’m doing you a favour.”
“If you want to do me a favour, stop calling it a ‘date’ every time I go out with a friend,” Madara snapped, walking over to his dresser to pull out the outfit he had planned to wear tonight.
“I’ll stop calling them dates when you stop going to intimate places with hot guys,” Yagura said, flopping back down on his bed. “Hashirama showed me pictures, too. You really get around, huh?”
Madara narrowed his eyes. “I don’t. I haven’t had sex in years, for your information.” He pulled out a fitted fishnet shirt with fingerless glove sleeves and a pair of black harem pants. He avidly ignored Yagura’s guffaw as he changed clothes; the shirt showed off the black and red double phoenix tattoo on his right hip, an image he’d had printed onto the gas tank of his motorcycle as well.
“Dude.” Yagura sat up in his bed. “You are so out to get laid tonight.”
Madara shot the blond a seething look as he tugged on his leather jacket and a pair of Vans.
“Eat my ass, Yondaime.”
Madara arrived at the Senju Residence shortly thereafter. He had sent Hashirama home with a spare helmet when they had returned to their college that morning. The man had expressed extensive worry about Madara taking his little brother to a club on his motorcycle, but he couldn’t dispute Madara’s sense of responsibility and safety when it came to these things. He conveniently forgot to mention the fake ID he had made for Tobirama. Re: What Hashirama didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Dismounting his bike, Madara waited as Hashirama crushed his brother in a tight hug by the door. He took the moment to look over Tobirama’s state of dress. He wore a white long-sleeve shirt beneath a ripped up black band shirt, ripped jeans, and combat boots. His white hair stood out in stark contrast, and damn was it a good look on him. For a trashy teenage punk, he could dress well.
As the two brothers approached, Madara grunted as Hashirama crushed his ribcage next.
“Please be safe,” he said, worry ringing through his voice. “Don’t let him get into trouble. And don’t let him get you into trouble.”
“I won’t, I won’t. Let go; you reek of dog,” Madara said, pushing Hashirama away. “Where are all those little bastards, anyway? I haven’t seen a single one.”
Hashirama chuckled nervously. “They’re out back. I was able to find the homes of three of them! And the local shelter took in five, so we just have two now. I’m thinking of keeping them.” Madara rolled his eyes.
“Do you even know how to take care of a pet without spoiling it to death? Don’t answer that.” He sighed lightheartedly at Hashirama’s pout. “Anyway, if that’s all.” He gestured to Tobirama, who put on his helmet. Hashirama dragged them both into another hug, causing their helmets to clank together and drawing out simultaneous groans. The elder Senju laughed.
“Okay. Have fun, you guys. Text me your plans afterwards,” he said. Madara nodded and mounted his bike again, waiting for Tobirama to slide on behind him. He sighed at the lax grip of the boy’s arms around his waist.
“If you don’t hold on properly I’m gonna pop a wheelie all the way down the road,” he warned. That was all it took to make Tobirama tighten his grip considerably. Madara laughed and lifted the kickstand, easing out of Hashirama’s driveway.
Tobirama pressed even closer once they started down the road, and Madara relished the moment. There was no guarantee that he could ever get Tobirama to hold onto him like this again, so he would savour it for what it was. It was an oddly thrilling sensation to have someone depend on him like this; this was the first time he’d ever let someone else ride on his motorcycle in the two years that he had owned it. Hopefully Tobirama would enjoy it and want to do it again.
The ride to Voyeur was typically right around twenty-five minutes, made faster by Madara’s ability to weave through traffic. Tobirama clung to him when they turned tight corners or dodged around cars between lanes. But he didn’t complain even once, not even about Madara’s loose hair whipping in the wind. There wasn’t much he could do about that, anyway. It was too thick to tie up for any length of time and he absolutely refused to cut it off.
As he pulled into the parking lot and turned off his motorcycle, Madara quickly slipped the fake ID from his jacket pocket and put it in Tobirama’s hand before he could pull away. He waited for the boy to get off before he followed, glancing at his confused expression.
“What is this?” he asked. “I have a driver’s license.”
“I know,” Madara said. “But this club is twenty-one plus, and you’re eighteen.” Tobirama’s eyes widened.
“Did you tell Hashirama?” Madara gave him a look.
“Do you think he would have agreed to let you come if I did?”
“Alright, but—what if I get in trouble? This is kind of serious, isn’t it?” Tobirama asked, though he followed Madara toward the club entrance, leaving their helmets on the bike handles.
“You won’t get in trouble. I made sure to use the official format, and they only glance at it anyway,” the Uchiha said. “Just don’t act suspicious.”
“Easier said than done…”
They got in without a hitch despite Tobirama’s concerns. Honestly, those brothers were possessed by anxiety. Once inside, Madara let Tobirama take in the place. The main dance floor level was the heart of the party, but what Madara had in mind to show Tobirama required them to stay after hours.
“I hope you slept well,” he said, raising his voice over the music as he grabbed Tobirama’s hand and led him into the throng of people. “We’re gonna be here for a while.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Tobirama asked, stumbling along behind him.
“It means we’re gonna be here for a while,” Madara repeated with a roll of his eyes. He stopped once they were well into the midst of all the chaos. It may have still been early in the evening, but the club was known for being lively. Even so, this was nothing compared to the after-hours mayhem that required a special membership to attend. Luckily for the two of them, Madara had such a membership. It was one of the first unnecessary splurges he’d indulged in upon moving here and he had yet to regret it.
Releasing Tobirama’s hand, Madara let the deep bass settle into his bones. He hadn’t been clubbing in some time, hadn’t had a reason to, and the way his body vibrated alongside the music was both nostalgic and thrilling. Being in such close quarters with Tobirama amplified the latter feeling, and he didn’t fight against the crowd as they were pushed yet closer together.
“This isn’t really the kind of dancing I’m used to,” Tobirama said, barely loud enough to hear. Madara chuckled as he watched the boy look around at the varying degrees of public indecency surrounding them.
“Then it will be good practice,” he said. “Besides, everyone should know how to dance in a club. Don’t tell me you’re intimidated?” A little challenging nudge never hurt in the grand scheme of human nature.
As expected, Tobirama met his eyes, his own narrowing. “Of course not.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” And with that, Madara fell into step with the beat, pumping and rolling his body with the rhythm that all but controlled his movements. He caught Tobirama off guard, but the boy had always been a quick learner. He began to match Madara’s movements, albeit tentatively, and in time they danced with each other rather than one leading the other. The bass pulsed so thickly around them that Madara’s heartbeat was forced to fall into sync; he could feel it in his very veins. If it had been a long time since he had danced at a club, he couldn’t recall the last time he had done it while sober. It was decidedly underwhelming in comparison.
“I’m going to get us drinks,” he said. “You can show me your real moves after we’re properly plastered.” He returned Tobirama’s smirk and slipped around him to navigate his way toward the bar. He would have to decide on their plans for afterward soon; there was no way in hell Madara was sending a drunk Tobirama back to his brother. He couldn’t take the boy back to his dorm, either. He pulled out his phone and began to search for nearby hotels while he waited for their drinks.
Back on the dance floor, Tobirama swayed idly with the music. Lacking a dance partner made it difficult to do much more than that, despite the occasional broad that tried to fill that roll. Tobirama did his best to evade them politely without moving from his spot too much so that Madara would be able to find him again. For as anxious as he was about coming here, he thought he could actually have a good time. The place wasn’t trashy by any means, and just a few quick glances around provided evidence of Philadelphia’s widely accepting attitude. And he did mean widely. He was pretty sure the half-naked men on one of the platforms were not hired strippers.
A hand on his shoulder made him jump somewhat, his head whipping around to follow its path across his back to his other shoulder. The owner stepped in front of him: a thin, pale thing around the same height as Madara with straight black hair and the cold-blooded eyes of a snake. Her (his?) eye makeup tapered into points along their nose, further enforcing the snake metaphor, and their smile was just as sharp.
“Now, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in a place like this?” they asked, stepping into Tobirama’s personal space. His eyebrows drew together. I’m taller than you…
“I’m, uh. I’m not alone. I’m here with someone,” he said, casually trying to back away, but they followed his movements.
“Is that so? How inconsiderate of them to abandon you, then. I’ll be glad to keep you company if you’d like~” Even their speech was snake-like. Tobirama shivered.
“That’s—really not necessary,” he said, chancing a glance in what he thought was the direction Madara left in. Still no sign of him. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Oh, but I insist. It’s really quite dangerous to be alone in a club,” the person said. “There are all sorts of slimy vermin just waiting to take advantage of sneaky children.” Tobirama’s eyes widened. Did they know he wasn’t allowed to be here? Were they part of security or something? Was this some sort of test to try to rat him out? Dammit, Madara! Get back here already!
“I-I’m sure there are, but I can handle myself.” You’re probably one of those “slimy vermin”.
Just as the person made to take another step forward, a body placed itself between them and Tobirama. The albino blinked and looked down, then breathed out a sigh of relief. It’s about time.
“Is there a problem?” Madara asked in a tone of voice Tobirama wasn’t familiar with. It sent a shudder down his spine and those words weren’t even directed at him.
The other person simply smiled, flashing pearly white teeth this time. “Madara Uchiha. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in some time.”
“Orochimaru,” Madara returned. “What are you doing lurking around here? Aren’t you still on probation?” He turned to hold out a plastic cup to Tobirama, who took it wordlessly as he watched the exchange between the two.
“It ended just last month. I’m a free man now,” Orochimaru said.
“Man?” Madara asked, raising a brow. Orochimaru’s smile widened and Tobirama wondered how his face didn’t split into two.
“For tonight.” What did that mean?
“Then I suggest you keep your gnarly paws off my man,” Madara said. Tobirama froze. “Or did you want me to refresh your memory?”
Despite the underlying threat, Orochimaru only laughed. “My my, you do work fast, Madara. It seems to run in the family, doesn’t it?”
“And you can steer clear of my family while you’re at it,” Madara added in that tone of voice again.
“So cold. I take it you haven’t gotten over that?”
“No. I haven’t. Now kindly fuck off.”
“How can I say no when you ask me so nicely? Well, at least let me give you both a parting gift. It’s the least I can do,” Orochimaru said, reaching back into a pants pocket. He pulled out what looked like two small goody powder packets, handing one to each of them. Tobirama only accepted it after seeing Madara do the same. “Ta ta for now, boys. Do try to have a little fun tonight.” And with that, he slipped away into the crowd.
“...Okay, I have a lot of questions, but first of all, what the hell?” Tobirama stepped around to face Madara. “Who the fuck was that creep and why do you know him?” Madara sighed.
“Believe me, I wish I didn’t. It’s a long story,” he said. Then he gestured to the packets they held. “This is Ecstasy. Don’t take it if you don’t want to.” In spite of his words, Madara idly worked open the sides of the packet and downed the powdery contents in one go, washing it down with a couple large gulps of his drink. “It tastes like ass, fair warning.”
“Madara!” He didn’t mean to sound so scandalized, but his mind was reeling with everything that just transpired. “How can you trust what that guy gives you?”
“I’ve dealt with him before,” Madara said with a shrug. “He used to live in the same town as us. I’m pretty sure he followed me here,” he added with a grimace. Tobirama gaped.
“Why?”
“Because he’s obsessed? Like stalker-level obsessed.” Madara shook himself as if to escape a bad memory. “And not just with me. He’s approached practically my entire family.”
“Okay, you really need to sit down and explain this in more detail at some point. Preferably soon,” Tobirama said, heaving a sigh. “Anyway, are you really sure this is safe?” He held up the packet in his hand. Madara nodded.
“Positive. But like I said, don’t take it if you don’t want to,” he said. “I’m not sure this is the best place for your first time if you decide to anyway.” Tobirama studied the packet.
“...What does it do?” he asked finally.
“It makes you feel really, really good.” Madara smiled then, and as the coloured lights passed over his face, Tobirama could see the man’s pupils widening already. “It’s called ‘Ecstasy’ for a reason.” The Senju eyed him for a moment, then looked back down at the packet before putting it in his pocket.
“I’ll think about it,” he decided. The way Madara’s expression softened was almost reverent, which reminded him… “By the way, ‘my man’?” He raised a brow. Madara blinked for a moment before laughing.
“Sorry, sorry. The dude’s a creep, but he’s not a sleazebag. I just wanted him to leave you alone,” he said as he began rocking to the music once more, stepping close to Tobirama. “Did it bother you?” he asked.
“...Not really,” Tobirama said, giving Madara a brief once-over. His jacket had been zipped up until now and Tobirama finally saw the flimsy shirt he wore beneath it. It showed off his muscles gorgeously, along with a little red and black number along his hip that he couldn’t help but linger on. Even more so when that hip rubbed against his own.
“It used to be my old gang emblem,” Madara provided, drawing Tobirama’s eyes back to his. The Uchiha’s face was far closer than he had thought and he found their breath mingling in the air between them, but he didn’t pull away.
“I didn’t know you were in a gang,” he said, blinking. Madara chuckled, dropping his head momentarily before lifting it again.
“It wasn’t even really a gang. Just me and a few idiot friends who thought we were all that,” he said. Tobirama smirked.
“Sounds about right.” Madara returned the smile before reaching up to tap Tobirama’s neglected cup with his own half-empty one.
“Are you going to drink or not? I’m miles ahead of you already,” he said. Tobirama lifted the cup to his lips without looking away from Madara, tasting the bitter alcohol and resolving to chugging it before his gag reflex could kick in. Madara laughed and toasted him again.
“That stuff really works, huh?” Tobirama asked in regards to the drug. Madara looked half out of it, but in a good way, from the looks of it.
“I told you. This shit’s my favourite,” the man said.
“You’ve done a lot?” Tobirama asked.
“Mmm… You could say that.” Madara’s grin made him think “a lot” didn’t even begin to cover it. “All in moderation. Don’t worry. I’m not a total druggie.”
“Good. Hashirama would run your ass ragged if you were,” Tobirama said. Madara pursed his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment as he gently pressed up against Tobirama’s chest.
“Let’s not talk about your brother,” he said. Tobirama blinked, but nodded. His eyes lingered on Madara again as he took another swig, then finished it impatiently. He snatched Madara’s cup out of his hand before he could protest.
“You’re miles ahead of me, remember? I’ll catch up and then we can get down to business,” he said. He downed the rest of the second cup’s contents, forcing back a wince at the burn it left in his throat, then shot the cups into a nearby trashcan. With both of his hands free now, he grabbed Madara’s hips, guiding him backward as he brought them back into the heart of the crowd.
Madara was on an entirely different level. He felt as if he were swimming in the music, feathers beneath his skin keeping him afloat. Ecstasy was all about physical sensation rather than visual hallucination, and that was what Madara loved about it. He didn’t have to focus too hard or fear a bad trip; it never failed to be a good time. His tolerance was practically nonexistent by this point; he’d been relatively clean ever since starting college. He actually enjoyed taking a break from drugs, and he had no intention of falling back into his old bad habits now, but this was an opportunity like no other and he would regretfully have to thank Orochimaru for providing it. He probably hadn’t thought much of giving them the drugs at first, but in truth he had done Madara a huge favour. Now he could actually relax and not fear looking like a total idiot at the same time.
Tobirama’s hands on his hips felt like fire and he had to stifle a gasp (he may or may not have succeeded). This would be an interesting battle between his pride and wishing Tobirama would just keep touching him. Dancing had almost left the equation entirely. However, when the Senju began, Madara couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.
Despite the vague timidness remnant from being a non-adult that Tobirama still sometimes displayed, his confidence really shone through once he started moving. He was startlingly aggressive, exhibiting a total domination of space as he moved around Madara in ways he was hopeless to keep up with. If there weren’t two drugs duking it out in his body, he would probably be less than impressed, but as it were he could only rock along with the beat as Tobirama spurred him on with teasing brushes of his hands and breaths that lingered too long near his ears. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that Tobirama was a filthy liar and he knew exactly how to work a club floor.
Even so, Madara couldn’t help but notice traces of restraint here and there. The abandoned attempts at grinding into him from behind, the way he parted the hot friction between their chests before Madara could give in and reach out for him, the averted gazes when Madara refused to look away first.
He had had just about enough of that.
The next time Tobirama slipped behind him, Madara reached back and took his wrists, planting those hands firmly on his hips.
“Madara?” Tobirama asked in his ear with just the slightest crack in his voice. The Uchiha smirked devilishly, bringing up his hands to thread his fingers through Tobirama’s hair.
“You win,” he breathed. He didn’t know if Tobirama heard him over the music or not, but he didn’t bother to check. Instead, he ground back shamelessly, shivering at the shuddered breath in his ear. Tobirama’s hands tightened on his hips and Madara rolled them into his grip, fisting that snow white hair as he tilted back his head, revealing his neck. The Senju’s hot breath ghosted over his skin, raising goosebumps in its wake as Madara arched his back. He had lost any and all inhibition in this state and he was beyond glad Tobirama didn’t seem to mind. Quite the opposite, actually.
Only a few more beats later and the boy matched his movements, practically rutting against Madara’s ass. The sweaty mass of bodies around them were none the wiser, likely too engaged in similar activities to pay much mind to the two of them. But fuck if Madara didn’t feel centre-stage. The world moved around him, spinning and lurching as the body pinned against him kept him grounded. His own body felt unbearably hot despite the cool air wafting around them. He could feel his heartbeat acutely in his chest, in his ears, and most definitely in his cock. He was thankful for his decision to wear such loose pants.
The friction was better than the Ecstasy itself, and before he knew it he was right on the edge. He gasped out in Tobirama’s grip, stilling as he forced air in and out of his lungs. Tobirama paused as well, chin hooked over his shoulder and cheek just brushing against Madara’s.
“...Let’s get out of here,” the boy said after a few painful seconds. Madara nodded numbly, offering no resistance as Tobirama led him out of the crowd and out of the club.
The ride to the hotel thankfully went without casualty; Madara had been lucky enough to find a place only a couple blocks away from the club. The hyper-clarity afforded by the Ecstasy worked well enough to keep him focused on the road through his inebriation, and the exhilaration kept up his confidence. His heart thudded in his chest, sure to be felt by the palm resting against it, and if he weren’t so engrossed in all that he could imagine would come next he might have tried to see if Tobirama were in the same state.
Paying for the room and getting there were all a blur to the Uchiha. As soon as the door closed behind them, though, he rounded on Tobirama, immediately pressing up against him as he latched his lips onto the pale column of his neck. He felt the startled groan on his tongue, tasting the salty sweat of his skin. To his surprise and confusion, however, Tobirama’s hands planted themselves on his chest and pushed him away. He looked up at the boy with dazed eyes, eyebrows drawing together. Tobirama just sighed and gently grabbed his arms instead, turning him around to nudge him farther into the room.
“You’re drunk,” he stated, “and doped up. It’s a miracle we made it here alive.”
A heavy weight amassed itself in Madara’s stomach, constricting his chest and tightening in his throat as he was guided toward the bed.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t take that stuff,” Tobirama went on. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had.”
“I’m sorry.” The words spilled over his lips before he could stop them. “I’m sorry, I—” Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, Tobirama’s voice hushing him softly.
“Don’t worry. It’s okay. You’re okay,” he murmured. Madara did not feel “okay”. He felt quite the opposite of “okay”.
What the hell am I doing? he thought. What was I thinking? If Hashirama finds out, about any of this, he’ll—I’ll—
He wanted to fucking cry. The pit that had opened up in his stomach had as much to do with the blatant rejection as the realization that he was setting a horrible, horrible example for Tobirama.
“He looks up to you, so he’ll probably be more eager to follow your example than mine.”
And there go the waterworks. Tobirama must have felt the tears fall on his arms because he spun Madara around suddenly to see for himself the pitiful state the Uchiha was in.
“Shit, Madara.” He enveloped the man in another hug, this one tighter and more secure. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” The building hysteria in Madara’s chest proved otherwise.
He couldn’t even work out the words he wanted to say. Please don’t look up to me. Please don’t follow in my footsteps. Please, God, do something better with your life. Don’t become the sad, lonely bastard I am. Please, please…
Madara squeezed shut his eyes and buried his face in Tobirama’s shoulder. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad. He knew better. He’d always known better. He wasn’t stupid, so why…?
Why do I always fuck up like this?
He didn’t realize he was shaking until Tobirama pulled away, leaving him uncomfortably cold in absence of the boy’s warmth. He didn’t dare meet Tobirama’s eyes. He had hit the lowest of lows, and a part of him knew it was due in part to the Ecstasy. They must have been at that club for hours longer than it had felt to Madara; the spike of endorphins had run its course and now he was in severe lack of them. Chances were that he would not feel any better tomorrow, if he were even able to sleep. In light of recent events, he highly doubted it.
Without Madara’s being consciously aware of it, Tobirama had maneuvered them to sit on the bed. Madara leaned against Tobirama, more than grateful for the security of his arms even though he didn’t think he deserved it. The Senju rubbed his back rhythmically, his other hand on the back of Madara’s head and gently stroking his hair. His cheek rested atop the Uchiha’s head and the latter’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt Tobirama turn slightly to place a soft kiss there. It was oddly reminiscent of a parental gesture and it settled Madara’s nerves more than an actual kiss ever could.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but he was content not to move for the next week. Unfortunately, he had promised to have Tobirama home by tomorrow at the latest. He must have been cheating Fate somehow to have Hashirama put so much misplaced trust in him to take care of his little brother. He knew well what Madara’s record was like and he had no reason to believe it had changed in the slightest. And still, he…
Madara blinked back another wave of tears.
“...I’m going to tell your brother what happened,” he said then. He winced at how hoarse his voice was and cleared his throat a little. Tobirama froze beside him, then slowly eased back to look at Madara.
“That’s not a good idea,” he said, although something in his voice lacked the conviction to discourage Madara.
“I know it’s not,” he agreed. “But...he deserves to know. I shouldn’t keep something like this from him, and neither should you.” With a deep breath, he placed a hand on Tobirama’s chest and pushed himself up so that he wasn’t completely leaning against the boy. “I’d rather suffer any kind of torture he could put me through than go on letting him believe I’m a responsible adult.” He gave a little self-deprecating laugh at this last. Tobirama frowned.
“What if he doesn’t let us hang out anymore?” he asked softly. Madara heaved a sigh.
“To be frank with you, I wouldn’t blame him if he hated me after this,” he said, not meeting the albino’s eyes. “It’s probably for the best. Your brother is an intelligent man, despite all odds. If he thinks I’m not good for you, then he’s probably right.”
“...Are you really willing to risk your friendship with him over this?” Tobirama asked. Madara looked up to meet his gaze now.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m a bad influence, Tobirama. No one needs my shit in their life.”
He looked down again, but his eyes were drawn to their hands as Tobirama took his. Slowly, he interlaced their fingers. Madara blinked and looked at him again.
“What if I want you in my life?” he asked so quietly Madara wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. He searched his eyes for any hint of miscommunication, but when he found none, he pressed together his lips in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Then I just hope you know what you’re getting into because I don’t,” he said. Tobirama leaned forward to rest their foreheads together and he held Madara’s gaze.
“I know exactly what I’m getting into.”
And with that, Tobirama kissed him.