At first, Madara doesn't notice anything odd. Having just burnt down a swath of Hashirama’s mokuton brambles, he's just grateful he's managed to avoid getting any of the thorns caught in his hair. Hearing Izuna’s incensed yelling during battle is pretty normal, but since Hashirama is distracted yelling about a peace treaty—as if their clans would just be happy to sit down, make friends, and braid each other flower crowns—he thinks he can take a moment to check on his little brother when an explosion of steam bursts over the battlefield from where he can sense Izuna and Hashirama’s younger brother.
“Oi, Hashirama! Shut up a minute!” He shouts as he looks towards their siblings.
And then he notices. Five dark forms are approaching Izuna’s back from the Uchiha side of the field, but they have no chakra. In fact, the lack of chakra is noticeably weird. Just as he about to take off towards Izuna (there’s no way he’s letting whoever these fuckers are anywhere near his last living brother. No fucking chance), he sees the most unexpected and beautifully deadly thing he’s ever witnessed in his life.
He watches Tobirama disarm Izuna, and pull Madara’s brother behind him; Madara watches as if hypnotized, while from his snarling crouch (with just a single hand sign, by the flames of Amaterasu, is that hot ) Tobirama tears a gory spray of blood and viscera out of the three closest shinobi, leaving them as nothing but a pile of barely recognizable flesh and cloth. Dear gods of fire and flame, the feral snarl on Tobirama’s face is gorgeous. Gods, the killing intent whipping across the battlefield is thunderous, why hadn’t Madara noticed how fucking beautiful and deadly this man is before now!?
Then, Madara hears the most arousing sound, as Tobirama actually growls like a big cat before verbally ripping into the last two attackers who had frozen in terror. “Don’t get involved in my fights!” Tobirama snarls at them. “I’ve spent far too long bringing this one up to snuff and making sure he’ll stay alive for him to die now. Get your own! He’s mine!” The growl rumbles deeper and he watches in wonder (and with mild discomfort, since his pants have gotten a bit snug over his arousal—he thanks the gods his kusazuri is covering any evidence of his erection) as Tobirama turns the last two attackers into more bloody smears on the ground.
Hashirama starts to whine from beside him, “Tooobiiii, nooooo! How could you!?” Why is he berating his brother? “I told you that jutsu is forbidd–!” Madara shoves the handle of his gunbai into Hashirama’s unguarded ribs to shut him up.
“Shut up you moron!” Madara shouts at him, gods how did he ever become friends with this idiot? Oh right, peace, dead siblings, “I think I just fell in love. Why didn’t you tell me your brother was so hot?! That’s not fair!” By the gods, Tobirama protecting Izuna is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Not that it particularly had anything to do with Izuna, but…he’s tempted to wipe at his chin to check if he’s drooling.
“Whaaat,” Hashirama growls. “What are your intentions towards my innocent little brother!?” Madara’s eyes widen at Hashirama’s shriek of outrage.
“Innocent!?” he yelps, as Hashirama bears him to the ground and they wrestle for the upper hand, “How can he be innocent while looking like that !?” He strangles a shout when Hashirama yanks on his fringe. ‘Two can play at that game you stupid tree stump,’ he thinks as he tangles one of his own hands into straight brown hair.
“Like what? What are you implying about my precious otouto!?” Hashirama’s growls sound like an angry bear. It’s not endearing, or arousing. His erection is dying. Thank the gods. Rolling around with an erection while trying to avoid getting Hashirama’s knee in his groin was not fun.
“That there’s no way he’s still a virgin while looking like that! And sounding like that , all growly and rumbly and deep, and being all protective like that!? No one’s tried to snatch that? No fucking way, you imbecile!”
Madara finally disentangles himself from their grapple, and gets himself standing. He’s just in time to watch Tobirama shift his weight into a relaxed, if mildly catty position, and hear his deep baritone explain something to a flailing Izuna.
“If I have to battle in the open like a Samurai,” Tobirama says, “like hell am I doing it with a subpar opponent! I just got you up to this point in skill, no way am I going to start training a new Uchiha now! I’ll be damned if I have to fight someone boring and try to keep them alive so Anija doesn’t cry on me after every skirmish. Besides,” he mutters just loudly enough for Madara to hear, “you remind me of Kawarama and Itama.”
Oh. Oh. Tobirama hasn’t been trying to kill Izuna. He’s been subtly battle training him. He’s been underhandedly protecting Madara’s last brother for who knows how long and Izuna reminds Tobirama of his lost brothers, and there’s no way he’s going to let anyone else have him. ‘I want him ,’ Madara thinks, ‘He’ll be mine.’
Izuna’s floundering face is hilarious though, he looks like the koi in the pond Madara regularly dumps him in, and Madara can’t hold back his cackling guffaws of laughter, sending Izu straight back into another flail. “The fuck Senju!? You’ve been holding back on me!??”
Tobirama’s wide eyed face as he answers is pure trolling gold. How has Madara missed this perfect specimen of humanity for so long!?
Izuna’s depressive cloud is so cute. He hopes this doesn’t make Izuna less receptive to a ceasefire, because there’s no fucking way he’s letting Tobirama go without at least getting a chance for courtship. Tobirama is far too savvy to allow Madara to court him without at least a ceasefire in place, he’s sure.
When Tobirama’s gaze settles back on him and Hashirama, Madara’s not sure what he looks like, but he can tell the younger shinobi is a bit unsettled. He can’t help himself, “Senju Tobirama, give me leave to court you.” he blurts.
Tobirama’s eyes narrow, and his lips tighten into a firm line. Fire and flame, where did his verbal filter go? He could have at least asked instead of demanded, a ‘please’ somewhere in there would probably have been better.
He ignores Hashirama’s shout of, “MADARA!” as Tobirama opens his mouth to speak.
“Shut up, Anija,” Tobirama says before flicking his gaze back to Madara, “You’re the head of the Uchiha; why should I allow the head of an enemy clan to court me, while refusing my brother’s attempts at peace?”
Madara winces internally, he has good reasons, okay? Hashirama’s attempts at peace are basically shouting about love and dreams and family over a bloody battlefield while their clansmen kill each other. What is he supposed to do?
“Tobi…” Hashirama starts talking, as if Madara’s going to let him butt into this matter that’s between him and beauty personified standing across from him.
Madara talks right over him, “Allow me to court you and I will agree to peace negotiations, starting with a ceasefire.” There, that should be a good enough start. Why hadn’t Hashirama just sent him a ceasefire request the moment Madara had gained clan headship? Madara crosses his arms over his chest. Why did it fall to him to carry the braincell between the two of them?
Tobirama blinks slowly twice, does he have cat adjacent summons? That’s definitely not the first instance of catlike behavior he’s seen today. Tobirama nods, “A ceasefire agreement will be in your hands by morning, once that is signed,” he says, “I will agree to courtship on the condition that full peace treaty negotiations begin within the month and are sustained until agreement is reached or hostilities resume. Should hostilities resume, the courtship will end.”
There’s no way Madara is going to let the negotiations fall through if their courtship is on the line. He begins to walk toward Tobirama, he needs to be closer. “Agreed.”
He can tell Hashirama is on his heels as he gets closes in on Tobirama’s personal space. Tobirama is taller than him. Until now, Madara has never been close enough to tell. Madara’s shoulders may be a tad broader, but Toborama isn’t lacking bulk for all that he’s clearly built for speed under all that fur and armor. Just the idea that Tobirama could manhandle him is so delicious, Madara’s arousal is starting to cause him quite a bit of discomfort in his pants, again.
He cautiously reaches out, looking up at Tobirama through his lashes, he watches for any sign that he’ll be rebuffed. But Tobirama allows him to gently take his hand and press a chaste kiss to the pulse point in his wrist. And damn if that isn’t a show of trust, the heat of it goes straight south. “I look forward to having that ceasefire come morning,” His voice is half a register lower than normal. By the gods, is he in trouble.
Tobirama’s face is impressively impassive, but Madara still has his sharingan active and he can not only can he feel the increase in Tobirama’s heart rate against his lips, but he can see the dilation of his pupils and feel the cool sweep of Tobirama’s chakra as it circulates more quickly. A smirk quirks at the corner of his mouth. Letting go of Tobirama’s hand is a hardship, but he's the clan head and it’s time to get his clansmen back to the compound.
He backs away without tearing his eyes from his new intended, he grabs Izuna’s collar as he retreats, suppressing a laugh at his brother’s flailing. Once he’s far enough away that he won’t deafen Tobirama, he calls out “UCHIHA, RETREAT!” and leads his clansmen away. Running with an erection is the worst. He can’t wait to have that ceasefire agreement in hand. Hopefully, it won’t have to be revised too many times before signing. Madara is itching to find the perfect gift to begin his courtship. There’s no way he’s letting Tobirama’s perfection slip between his fingers for some other greedy fucker to take. ‘No,’ Madara thinks, ‘He’ll be mine.’