They were in silence around each other for the first day; avoiding communicates, dancing around verbal speech, walking out of the room whence the other entered. Naruto could not put himself to speculate over their situation, over his own emotional upheaval: For himself, in plain comprehension, he could say he was content, his husband sat safely upon the seat of their living room couch cramped in with a cup of coffee. But Madara's expression remained as it had the entire time he had been within the apartment, and that made Naruto shift in discomfort; Madara had never been an empathetic man, not a man of feelings or or expression, sympathy did not easily stagnate for the man, it had to be coached. Yet, in present, the blond had no idea of how to make his stoic spouse break away from the banes of his mentality; For as it was, Madara sat, in silence, with a cooling cup of caffeine, blankly staring to the carpet with no glimpse of whatever emotion he might harbour, and Naruto could only come to the possibility that the man was recounting his memories.
He had no true understanding of the torment it might cause for the man inside, or if any at all. Still, Naruto knew from what his father had said about Jiraiya that the memories of war were rarely ever a pleasant entrapment. So here they were, in an unfamiliar environment, Naruto did not know what to say, while his husband did not feel safe enough to speak, he was in a plague of self-doubt with his chest sinking ever further. It was odd, especially within his own home while near to the one he loved, feeling uncomfortable.
Yesterday, Madara had met Ino, if only briefly. She had been their ride home from the hospital. As common, she had been bright and cheerful, happily grinning to the man and portraying herself as the least threatening person he could meet, which Naruto had appreciated, as Madara had merely raised his eyebrow and nodded in kind return; more then he commonly did. In his own knowledge of the man, Naruto was almost certain that his spouse could recognize the last name of his own Special Operations soldier, even if he himself had never before met Ino's father he was certain Madara would have at least heard of him. Still, the air around them remained pinched silent, as if there were no topics to consider, no conversations to have.
Eight years, and Naruto had found himself under the bane of an awkward silence with the man he had been in love with for far longer. Unto the blond, the strange situation felt disdainful, the aura surrounding them felt unnatural and unprecedented unto them both. He drew himself upwards, even knowing that he hadn't changed greatly in nearly a decade, Naruto knew that he could at least hold himself rational, be mature and adult-like far more then when he and Madara had wed. He spun on the sole of his foot towards the gloomed couch, and plastered on a smile of determined joy. He padded up to the man without attempting to filter his steps and keeping his own form at least were he was sure Madara could catch him moving from the corner of his iris.
Which was probably why he didn't gain a flinch when he crouched in front of the man. Madara was still staring at the beige carpet, he had no expression, his eyes were blank, and he was methodically tapping at the handle of his cup with his forefinger in morse code. Naruto couldn't read much, but he had been taught basics, and he knew the language when he saw it, though watching his husband continue to tap without -proper- pause did make him sigh slightly. Tentatively, he gripped over the tapping finger and pulled the hand gently over to himself, kissing the bruised knuckles he found there.
It was not much, but Naruto saw the slightened shift it made to the man, the way he blinked the tilt of his lips changing from stoic to unimpressed; both his commonstance expressions. Naruto could not make a clear picture from what he'd seen, from his understanding, but he knew the man had been effected and that his mind was shaking in discomfort for his surroundings and his comprehension therein. Naruto had no clear reckoning with Madara's experience, still he managed to sneak himself into a cuddle underneath the man's arm, allowing his own brain to make the connection. The blond could figure that with what he did know of post-trauma, he knew enough to give enough stabilization to a screaming mind.
His own memories came to the forefront of his mentality at the familiar semi-embrace, and his smile danced mockingly into a frown he hadn't meant to make. The past haunting him in laughing bitter memory, as it danced over the glaze in his eyes, like sapphire meeting fogged grey. He felt with brief understanding, his husband's arm tighten over his shoulders, but the tear that slipped from his eye distorted his thoughts at the remembrance it provoked.Snapped away, he as he recognized the feeling of Madara kissing his hair; he fitted on a smile as he looked up at the man in gratitude for his comfort despite his own demons twirling, Madara knew very little of his spouse's past, and though Naruto remained thankful for that fact, the blond did consider it a deception to be broken. Without much consideration, Naruto kissed underneath the pale jaw above himself and grasped the remote at the table.
Flicking on the telly and changing the channel to something mindless and binge worthy. Beside him Madara wore no expression, just grabbed the book he had on hand nearby; the man hadn't much care for television, still Naruto smiled at the reaction and cuddled, comfortable, into the warm embrace.
The morning came to comfort then, neither of them had seen fit to rise from their positions, sat curled up on a ratted couch in the middle of a broken down apartment. Emotions worn from both their swirling minds, still Naruto stood with a minut smile and a sore arm to make a breakfast after having kissed the sleeping mans forehead. He'd decided on sushi, Madara disliked large first meals; his family originally having orientated from Japan he couldn't eat them easily, and Naruto had no qualms making something complicated to suit with the lifestyle, even if it were within the early hours of the morning. To glimpse he noted that the man was already waking, likely from years having been the first to rise on the field, he made no fuss of it, just sat up and cracked his neck slightly and with little motion stretching his muscles. Seemingly upon automatic motions, he watched Madara grasp the elastic on his wrist and tye his hair behind him in a proper styling for a soldier.
A frown twitched at the corners of a tan mouth, but Naruto did not let it form, ignoring the impulse, he smiled towards his rousing husband; careful to be attentive to the man's sensibilities, knowing that it was possible the dark-haired man did not yet know where he was in the midst of waking. He spoke in his normal voice with chosen wording. "You could sleep some more you know-" He said it lightly, still Madara stood to his full height, glancing about him for a moment before resting dark irises on the familiar figure cooking in the kitchen, Naruto watched him take a deep breath and he made himself give a grin in response. As well as he knew his grandfather, he knew very little about the consequences of war, and he was adapting to once more having his husband standing by him.
To have a hand grip his wrist mid-motion shocked him, but he managed to force his breathing to calm after the spark of adrenaline it caused. Looking up to see a frown and a serious gaze focused upon him, it made his heart flutter with nerves. Before they had begun their affair, Naruto had already recognized that Madara came from a darkened background, he had the stance and positioning of a man trained to intimidate- perhaps provoke a fear in others if necessary. Yet, in knowing the blond had only pursued the man further, in curiosity, in thrill of danger- even Naruto did not particularly know himself. But with that small thrill brought, the young man had always managed to keep himself steady around the man he loved, and he had no intention of breaking his hard wrought self-control now. He gave a simper, loosening his wrist into the major's grip in precaution, and stared into the irises afore him. Madara blinked downwards, face turning in understanding, then he let go of the grip he had, looking down to the tan -bruised- wrist with the eyes of a man lost.
Naruto said nothing, as guilt bled over the stoic expression he was so adapt to seeing, he kissed the pale lips before him and gained a twisted glare. "I-" No words came to his husband, and instead Madara leant against the wooden cabinets in a sour disposition. Naruto bore no complaint as the man watched him move about the kitchen.
However, as he hit himself on the edge of the cupboard, his bruised wrist tapped harshly against the door, he hissed to the sensation dropping the heavy pot in his hands, and it clattered loudly against the tiled flooring. He was going to pick up the rice pot, but pale hands beat his motions, and he was left staring as his husband did so in his stead, Madara put it on the counter before gently grasping his wrist. Something Naruto could not name crossed over the strained man's express as he turned over the bruised hand, and ran his fingers gentle over the reddened skin.
No baritone rang out in apologies or excuse, instead by the blond's own surprise all Madara did was make a slight sound that he could not properly hear, and he was then pult into a tight embrace. Madara's chest against his cheek Naruto could feel the fast beating beneath his skin, and he slackened from his tensed posture, he let Madara keep hold of his pained arm, but wrapped his other around the man in the best comfort he could offer. A chin rested on his head, and he felt warm in the embrace as Madara wrapped his arms around him. It was the second time in as many days his man of war had initiated a comforting hold, though Naruto could find no protest to the action, his knowledge of the man bore down on his mind in suspicion. An embrace was unusual.
Slowly, he let himself take a deep breathe, not quite certain with himself on how to proceed, his eyes were watching the legs of his spouse waiting for the man to step back. It was sensibility, and though they had both always argued the point, Madara had always considered physical affection, a weakness. It was welcome, the blond bore no protest to the warmth against his cheek, but still, his mind disapproved, his husband did not like embracing- cuddles- hugs- or warm snuggles on the couch, Naruto knew this; and it pushed him to pull away from the chest he rested against; he heard the heartbeat quicken momentarily at his action and a frown formed. Madara's head had found purchase over his own in an awkward angle of comfort. Though he too pulled away, and in distinct confusion, Naruto ran his hands up the tall shoulders in front of him, to the thinned ivory cheeks and strong jaw he so knew, but the proud gaze he would have recognized was gone; and in its place was the bleak expression of a dull stare. Naruto once more forced himself to action, in the way of making a conversation that he did not wish to make.
"Madara, what's wrong?" He was gentle he thought, worried by design but nothing could have made hostility. However, Madara made response by taking a breath through his nose and tentatively removing the hands from his face, for a fractional moment Naruto saw the indigo irises flicker to the right and a brief flicker of familiar anger formed within them, but as if unable to retain emotion the expression left in quick succession. And Madara stepped back.
"I need a shower." There was a blank disinterest in his tone, and it rang heavily in the small room like a hefty weight falling to the lino. The man staggered as he walked, bent over the counter in support and his legs dragged on the floor slightly.
"Do you need a hand?" The smile that the tan man forced on was faked, he knew so well enough, hurt rang in his stomach watching the man walk away. Still, he made himself offer even as a slight anger coiled in his gut.
"No." Firm, came the reply, and petulance rang in his head at the clear , Naruto shook himself from the pain it caused and focused on the meal he was making, the tight sensation in his throat he made himself ignore. Though his hands shook as he prepared the rice and the seaweed; changing his mind from sushi, to make onigiri instead a vague simper over his lips at the circumstantial irony: Though he knew his husband would enjoy the dish, onigiri was actually Sasuke's favourite.
The tile beneath his feet felt particularly cold as he worked, just as his waist did without the large arms engulfing his figure. That's when his cell rang on the counter, vibrating enough that the buzz nearly knocked itself off the surface. He answered the dismal song, not bothering to make a sound despite the rudeness of the action.
"You actually answered." Came the familiar droll tone of a familiar droll man, it had him closing his eyes against the sound for a moment, and a sigh left him without intent. He could force himself to hang up, just close the phone and ignore the fact that he was ever called, but he didn't move his hand and kept the plastic to his ear. Instead, he just leant against the counter, the coil in his gut still resonating.
"What do you want." He made no bid to appear kind, no question came from him, his mouth was clasped shut.
"To meet. I need to talk to you." The rice began to boil over, and Naruto barely managed to save the stove by leaning the phone on his shoulder and pouring the water into the near sink. He put the pot onto the metal, and turned the grill off, irritation beginning to bubble inside himself.
"What's there to talk about? You lied, to me, and more importantly to this conversation; to your wife. I have no sympathy here Sasuke." There was a sigh filtering in slight static from the other end, anger, the type the blond knew well; because he knew Sasuke well. Even so, he said nothing to the man and waited for the excuse to come, for he knew there would be one. Naruto knew it, he knew Sasuke Uchiha, there was always a reasoning behind every action he made, whether it was warranted or not, whether it was a comfort or not.
Naturally, it came, "I had no want to marry my wife and she is fully aware of that." It was made without remorse in the tone, plainly stated as if it were a fact made pointed without an impact. Naruto scoffed, rubbing at the scars settled on his face, already his mind was discounting the conversation.
"Not an excuse, and there isn't one to be made. You could have divorced her or at least informed her- and I know you didn't! Ino and Sakura are in the same business asshole!" His anger was amping up, and he was coming close to yelling into the phone, it was made worse by the fact that they'd all known each other in school. It felt, unto him, as if one large cheat, as a divine joke unto all of them involved. Sakura hadn't known her husband was cheating on her with a man they both knew, Naruto hadn't known Sasuke was married, Sasuke hadn't known Naruto was married- it rang as a 1950s black and white classic romance drama -or a comedy, Naruto couldn't decide which sounded more suitable.- His hand slammed onto the counter and he hissed as it somewhat affected his bad wrist.
"That isn't possible, moron! As much as I'd like to, I cannot, my father took that decision away from me before I was born." Naruto heaved, the hypocrisy would be obvious to a toad, and he was entirely ignoring it. Simply yelling at the man with the things he could have done sooner, he could have told his husband of the affair earlier and he hadn't, in truth, he could have divorced the man long ago and he hadn't. Naruto's next breath shook in his lungs, he was lucky that Madara had chosen to forgive him at all, his husband was a stern and strictly formed man; everything could have gotten far worse then it had, and he was scolding Sasuke for having the bitter end of the stick. Rather: he was putting all on his guilt upon the man.
It was then that Madara stepped into the room, as if in a subtle metaphor. He was wearing folded beige pants and a navy silk button-down not yet tucked in. Naruto found his face flushing at the image, suddenly reminding him of how handsome his husband could be in casual wear. He limped forwards, his breathing sounding somewhat struggled as he walked, but as the blond was about to make a comment for resting, the phone was snatched away from his hands. The protest on his lips was interrupted by the simple glare cast his way.
"Allow me to make this plain, keep yourself away from my wife." He flicked the flip closed without a care and threw it onto the countertop with grace and nonchalance. Naruto stood in gape for but a moment, before both of his hands found his hips and he found himself growling at the uncaring man before him.
"Wife!?" The loud yell echoed throughout the apartment. A reddened blush resting on dark toned cheeks the decoration of embarrassment plainly visible.