Madara has never seen Tobirama smile. For more than a decade, the Uchiha has known the other since they were children, Tobirama had displayed either a frown or his patented Neutral Expression of Apathy.
So this shy, blushing, smiling man walking into his private training ground was a complete stranger to Madara. The black-haired man blinked and rocked back on his heels, his sandals digging into the soft dirt. "I'm sorry, what'd you say?" he croaked, watching as Tobirama's(?) face took a turn into scarlet. The color deeply saturated against his pale features.
"I like you. A lot. I know it's sudden bu-" The white-haired man was cut off as Madara threw a kunai towards his jugular and ran at him with the intent to kill. Tobirama, no the imposter, launched himself backwards. "Madara!" He shouted; desperation shown clearly on his false face. Eyebrows twisted, eyes wide, Madara's Sharingan activated. Such an obvious lie would not go unpunished. "Please wait! It may not make sense now but I really do love you!" The fake pleaded.
The Uchiha grit his teeth, his Sharingan spinning rapidly as he shot through the hand signs for a Grand Fireball. Boiling chakra manifested itself in his chest. Condensing tighter and hotter until it felt like the sun was in his mouth. Madara released it with a vengeance. The trees made from one of Hashirama's biggest sulk episodes were incinerated on contact. The dirt of the clearing was charred black.
Tobirama's imposter flipped to the side, barely able to dodge with his slow speed. Another tally in the fake column, although the Uchiha clan head was already certain.
He'd known Tobirama Senju for over a decade. The river incident was the first time he'd ever seen Hashirama's little brother and even though Madara had been focused on the mokuton user at the time, Tobirama had still drawn his attention. At that time, Madara's first impression was that the young Senju was serious but gave him no further thought. Later, throughout the years of battle between their clans, he came to know Tobirama as a dangerously skilled combatant. His potential was ever increasing, his genius unmatched by even Hashirama. Madara had laid awake at night, occasionally wondering if the next battle would be Izuna's last. And when that terrifying moment came, Tobirama yet again pushing to the next level, the Senju had stopped his blade against Izuna's side.
Mercy. That was what had finally brought peace to the Land of Fire. Negotiations went on for months until finally, finally, the two clans could rest. Tobirama however, never adhered to that sentiment. He was always working, training, striving for better. In those first few months of Konohagakure's existence Madara grew to think of Tobirama as striking. Mentally, physically, in all the ways that mattered. After a year those thoughts grew fond, and heated.
Madara was no stranger to desire. The Uchiha clan as a whole operated on their potent emotions, but Tobirama as the subject of several wet dreams that left him panting and wanting was very new. Not to mention dangerous and almost certainly unwelcome on the side of the other man. Madara knew that Tobirama worked very hard for peace but he knew to an even bigger degree that the trauma of war didn't just magically go away.
So Madara made sure to keep his feelings in check; from those born from hours of gazing at the soft sight of Tobirama teaching the village's children, to the burning desire that one glance from a shirtless training session could bring. It was during Hashirama's birthday, the one where the mokuton user got so sloshed he created an entire forest and then cried all over Mito's absurdly beautiful kimono, that Madara screwed up.
"Wanna fuck?" Madara had asked. The Uchiha clan head's words slurred from the sake. The entire day he'd seen the Senju heir handle every problem that came up with an absurd level of competency. The entire day Madara had been holding back compliments and words of devotion. It was the sight of Tobirama leaning on a balcony railing cloaked in moonlight that completely crumbled his brain to mouth filter and Madara could no longer hold back.
Tobirama had blinked, set down his glass, and grabbed Madara's collar. Madara had been sure he was going to die, from the albino killing him or embarrassment he wasn't certain. But Tobirama simply teleported them to a dark bedroom and promptly proved that Madara had a shit imagination.
The sight of Tobirama's battle hardened body writhing with pleasure was beyond imagining. His scent, his words, the pressure of his hands urging Madara to fuck him harder were unforgettable.
If the fact that an imposter would dare try to get past Madara's senses wasn't enough to get him volcanically angry, the particular face that they chose would've done the job.
It took only a minute to catch the bastard and burn him to ash. Maybe an overreaction but Madara saw no point in leaving any evidence of such a useless existence. The Uchiha cast out his senses, sweeping over the many chakra signatures of Konoha before he pinged the tightly controlled tsunami that was Tobirama Senju.
Madara wasted no time. He jumped from rooftop to rooftop, his hair streaking behind him. He didn't worry for Tobirama, to do so would be an insult really, but the fact that anyone would dare try to use him against Madara made the clan head's chest tighten just a little.
A couple of minutes later and Madara had arrived. The place he ended up was a small wooden warehouse in the east of the village. There was no security to stop him. Which spoke of either great foolishness or Tobirama. Remembering the Senju's opinions on threat management and his opponent's skill level, Madara was leaning towards the latter.
Entering the warehouse was easy, civilian doors were not made to stand up to a chakra enhanced shove. The interior of the building was cold, far too cold to be natural in late summer of Fire country. Madara ignored everything around him, boxes and more boxes, running to where he felt the Senju heir's signature.
Ice developed the further in he trod and as Madara came upon the only door at the end of a long hallway he had to direct chakra to his sandals so he wouldn't slide. The wooden door was slightly open, he only felt Tobirama's presence so Madara pushed into the room without any hurry.
The room was a mess. A table and several chairs were frozen in icy stalagmites and what looked like a library's worth of paper was scattered around the room. Madara glanced around, counted seven corpses with various kunai, shuriken, and icicles in their chests before his eyes landed on Tobirama.
The albino looked completely unruffled, not a hair out of place or a wound on him. He had glanced up at Madara's entrance but went back to the page he held a moment later.
"They were dissatisfied with Konoha's trading policies." Tobirama offered, his deep voice laced with boredom. "A few mercenaries hired by merchants that wanted to attempt a ransom." Madara snorted.
"Yeah, that turned out well. They even thought it was a great idea to send a fake you to talk to me." Madara said, smirking. The Senju tilted his head as he considered Madara's words. The Uchiha shook his head, remembering the utter inadequacy of the imposter. "Incinerated him. Knew it wasn't you almost immediately."
"Almost."
Madara blinked and crossed his arms at Tobirama's statement. "Yeah." The clan head repeated his words. "Almost."
Tobirama's narrow gaze grew just a bit tighter, icier, as he took in Madara's defensive posture. Silence reigned in the room as the albino waited for clarification and Madara stubbornly stayed silent. After a few uncomfortable moments Tobirama set down the paper he was holding and turned to face the Uchiha fully.
"What in particular," Tobirama breathed, eyes sharper than his summons claws. "gave it away." It was a question and wasn't. Madara knew better than to point that out and sighed, glancing to Tobirama's cheeks.
"The blush was wrong." Madara stated. Tobirama's head tilted further to the side as he considered those words and his gaze softened imperceptibly. The Uchiha sighed again. "He was trying to catch me off guard or something. Confessed to me. In your form."
"Confessed." Tobirama said. His face carefully blank. "How trite." Madara watched as the Senju stepped to retrieve his kunai, never one to waste resources, and put the corpses into one of his scrolls. The other man wasn't facing him but Madara could see that safely behind the happuri the albino wore and barely hidden by his mane of white hair, Tobirama's ears were flushed the lightest shade of pink.
'Yeah' Madara thought fondly. 'That's him.'