The Deal
~*~*~*~
“Come on, princess. On your feet.”
Rather ungracefully, he was hauled to his feet, the slim chain between his handcuffs clanging quietly. He was too stunned to fight the manhandling, even as he was turned around, and pushed back towards the mansion beyond.
After a moment, his senses finally returned, and he dug in his heels, wrenching away from the Senju’s hand on his elbow. “Now, just hold on one bloody minute!” he snapped, whirling around to glare at him. “What the fuck, Senju?”
“Very eloquent. Do elaborate on just what your question might be.” The dry humor in his tone had his temper flaring once more.
“What do you mean, ‘elaborate’?” he said venomously. “Why the hell am I here?”
“It’s been a while. Maybe I wanted to catch up, and see how you’re doing.”
“Bullshit asshole! Why now? Why all of the sudden? I have an exam in 4 days and if I fail I swear I’m going to find a very creative way to shove your fucking femur up your-”
“Oh, so aggressive,” Tobirama crooned, looking even more amused. “If you really must know, I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since I left the clinic where I met you. Congratulations on graduating top of your class. And getting accepted into med school right away. Very ambitious of you. What was the reason for that?”
“No reason that you need to know.”
“Ah, but I already do. You remember in your first class for Respiratory Pathology, the lovely Professor Nara asked all his students what their reason for enrolling in Med school was. He handed out little papers, had all you fresh eyed students fill them out, and hand them back in. And you wrote down, and I quote ‘if I need to do an emergency surgery on some idiot from the streets I don’t want to have to call an actual doctor to walk me through it.’ Very good reason, if I do say so myself. It’s nice to know I had such an impact in just a few short hours.”
“Screw off, you self-inflated, pompous ass-”
“Tsk, task, language. Aren’t nurses supposed to be nice and gentle and soft spoken?”
“I’m going to kill you. That’s an unfair stereotype. We can be just as crass as anyone else.”
“Clearly.”
Madara brought one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Stop distracting me. Answer the question.”
“Which one?”
Ohhhhhh, the Senju’s throat was looking very chokable. “WHY am I here?”
The glunt of humor faded from those curious red eyes. “You lied to my face back then,” he said, his voice low. “No one is brave, or foolish, enough to do that. But you did, without a hint of hesitation or fear. And I believed you. You were so very convincing.”
Madara raised an eyebrow. “You dragged me all the way here just because you’re impressed that I lied to you?”
“No.” His long fingers curled around Madara’s wrists, bringing his hands up again to brush against the scar on his face. “I brought you here, because ever since that day, ever since you so fearlessly defied me, and yet attentively took care of me and my men, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. I promised you that I would leave you be, that you would never see me again. For the most part, I kept that promise. I kept tabs on you from afar, checked in on you without you even knowing about it.”
He leaned forwards a little, up into Madara’s space. “And then I saw you, strutting around in MY club, looking like that and you saw me, too. You broke the deal, technically, the moment you laid eyes on me. So I’m doing nothing wrong by bringing you here.”
“Nothing wrong?” Madara echoed in disbelief. He jerked his hand away. “I can name several things that are actually wrong. One, drugging an innocent civilian. Two, kidnapping said innocent civilian. Three, holding said innocent civilian against his will. Four, harassing and physically assaulting said innocent civilian. And five, threatening-”
“Yes, yes, I get it. No need to get so worked up about it.” The Senju crossed his arms, looking annoyed. “Look, Uchiha. All I want to do is talk. Catch up a bit. Sound agreeable?”
Madara gave him a suspicious look. “No, because I, for some odd reason, doubt that you’re going to just let me walk out of here home free after we’re done ‘talking.’ Am I right?”
“Yes. Now come.” With that, he put a hand in the base of Madara’s back, turning him around again and guiding him back towards the mansion, albeit gentler than before. For a moment, he considered fighting him, maybe attempting to get the chain of his handcuffs over his throat and strangle the life out of him. But, upon further reflection…..that really wasn’t such a good idea. So, he conceded, grudgingly letting the blanchette take him back.
With a monumental scowl, they bypassed the group of a dozen or so men that met them by the massive double doors, all of them seeming a bit out of breath, having just come back from running around the mansion grounds looking for him. The sight of that, at least, made Madara feel a little bit smug.
Tobirama wordlessly guided him up the massive stone staircase, taking him up to the third floor, and into a lavish room that probably took up at least a quarter of the entire floor. It wasn’t the room he woke up in, he couldn’t help but notice, somewhat disappointed. He at least knew he could slip out of that one and make a break for it.
“Sit,” Tobirama ordered, pushing him towards a massive leather sofa situated in front of an equally oversized fireplace. On the opposite side of the room, which was set up like some ridiculous penthouse, minus a kitchen, was an extravagant king sized bed. Who the hell needs a king sized bed?
He sat down begrudgingly, at the edge of his seat, watching the Senju as he paused by a shelf, taking down two glasses, and filling them with a rich, red wine. He set both of the glasses down on the ornate coffee table situated in front of the sofa, then sat down in a plush armchair with a sigh.
“So. What have you been up to since we parted ways?”
Madara snorted. “That’s a stupid question. You already know.”
“Yes. But I want you to tell me.”
He glared at him, contemplating his chances of success if he lunged over the table and tried to choke him. Not very likely, unfortunately. “Well. I’m not going to.”
Tobirama’s eyes gleamed. “The longer you put this off, the longer you’ll be here, and the less chance you have of getting home to study for this exam that you seem so hellbent on taking. So I suggest you cooperate.”
“I’ll “cooperate” whenever I damn well feel like it,” he spat back, curling his lip. The patient expression on the mobsters face darkened.
“You have very few survival instincts, it seems. You cooperated just fine when we first met.”
“Yeah, because I once made a vow to always help people in need, no matter who they are or what they are. So yeah, I cooperated. But THIS is an entirely different matter, and I’m not in a very good mood.”
“Clearly.” Tobirama picked up his wine glass, lifting it to his lips and taking a long sip. “Humour me then, please. Everyone here is so dry and boring. I’d like to hear something other than reports on finances and who died and who killed who and who is threatening our turf. Do so, and I’ll let you get to your books and studying. Deal?”
Madara pursed his lips, weighing his options. On one hand, fuck him and all this and everyone here. On the other hand, he was not in the mood to keep fighting. A headache was starting to set in, pounding away at his temples with a vengeance. Probably from all the drinking last night. And the chloroform. And then waking up and immediately sneaking out.
He sighed hugely, and held up his cuffed hands. “Undo these and yes, it’s a deal.” Tobirama eyed him for a moment.
“I’m not sure if I trust you, but I’m going against my better judgement here, as a sign of good faith.”
“Good faith, shocking,” Madara muttered, as Tobirama leaned forward, reaching across the space between them with a tiny silver key, undoing the cuffs and dropping them on the table. “So what do you want to know?”
The Senju leaned back again, relaxing into the plush pillows. “Let’s see here….. How was the party after your graduation ceremony?”
Madara frowned. “Ah….I don’t remember most of it,” he said truthfully. “The ceremony itself was long and boring and awful, and after that a bunch of us went over to a club nearby, and that’s about where everything disappears.”
“And why is that?”
“Probably because I drank enough to kill a horse,” Madara deadpanned. Tobirama smirked.
“I’m sensing a theme here. Do you regularly go out partying and drinking?”
“No, last night was the first time since then.”
“Interesting. How do you spend your free time then?”
“Studying. Sometimes I hang out with my cousin or my brother. Or both. And if luck is really not on my side I see the rest of my family.”
“For being barely 22 you have a very….calm life.”
“Don’t be judgemental. Define calm,” he said, raising his eyebrows. Tobirama shrugged.
“I know a lot of people your age who aren’t such….home-bodies, so to speak.”
“I don’t have time for any of that. I work, study, work the next day, study, and so forth.”
“How much more schooling do you have yet?”
Madara frowned for a moment, mentally tallying up the numbers. He never was good at keeping track of the time commitment. It was all just a blur to him. He got accepted the following fall right after he graduated (coming from the Uchiha family definitely helped with that, otherwise he might have been waitlisted an additional year), did his first year flawlessly, and was halfway in his second year.
“Well. Normally, you’d have to get a Bachelors degree first, which takes four years, and then go for another 4 years to get your General Practitioners medical degree, and then another 2 or 4 years residency. Since I have nursing already to bump me up a bit, I have….like 5 and a half years left.”
Tobirama’s only reaction was a slight quirk of his eyebrow. “And you intend to fully go through with that?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want to do for your residency?”
“Surgical.”
“What unit do you work in now?”
“Acute half the time, OR the rest of the time.”
“Sounds busy.”
“It is.”
Silence fell over them, thick and heavy and oppressive. Madara shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Tobirama took another sip of his wine, leaned back, and started talking again, prodding him with random questions to keep the conversation going. Madara went out of his way to give him the most brief, vague, boring answers he could manage, but Tobirama didn’t seem at all deterred.
It was really starting to grate on Madara’s nerves, but he bore with it, holding onto the promise that he would soon be able to go back and hole up with his books and not have to leave his house for 4 days.
It was starting to get light outside now, and Madara watched the sun's rays bathe the mansion grounds. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” Tobirama said, stretching slightly, but not standing.
“Not too bad,” Madara allowed, loath to agree with him. Tobirama hummed, leaning forwards to set his now empty wine glass on the table. Madara’s remained untouched. “Is there anything else you’re burning to know?”
“Not particularly. As vague as you were, I got what I wanted to hear.”
“Good. I’ll be going then.” He stood up, sweeping his hair back over his shoulder, and Tobirama smirked, just a little.
“Is that so? I didn’t say you were going anywhere.”
Madara’s temper flared. “What the fuck, Senju? You said that if I talked with you I could go, you absolute ass-”
“Ah, but that is not what I said. I said that if you talk with me, I’ll let you go back to your books and studying. I didn’t say you could leave here.” Madara stared at him, uncomprehendingly, and Tobirama’s little smirk grew. “I never meant that you could leave my home, princess. I simply meant that you’d be able to access your books and studying material.”
“What the fuck-”
“So, what do you need for your exam? I’ll send some people out to fetch it for you.”
“What? No! There is no way I’m letting your slimy little fingers all over-”
“Be grateful I’m nice enough to do this at all, Uchiha,” Tobirama said darkly, his face turning to what someone might expect the face of an angry mob boss to look like. “I’m not normally this gracious. Hush up and accept it.”
“Fuck you, you son of a-”
“Language, princess.”
Madara growled, grabbed his undrunk wine, and promptly dumped it over the Senju’s head. The deep red liquid spilled over his hair, his face, down his expensive looking clothes, and down onto his armchair and the pricey rug spread on the floor at their feet.
’Taste that, you shit head,’ Madara thought smugly, turning to chuck the glass against the wall, where it shattered into millions of little pieces and fell to the floor.
For a long moment, Tobirama didn’t move. The wine dripped from his white hair, which looked more pink than anything else now. Then, he exploded into movement, leaping to his feet and lunging at him.
Having expected that, Madara sprang backwards, bringing one hand up to flat palm punch him in the throat. The Senju choked, evidently caught off guard, but he didn’t let that deter him. Instead, he grabbed Madara’s wrist so tightly it hurt, and threw his weight backwards, dragging Madara with him.
Madara resisted for a moment, then suddenly relaxed, letting the Senju haul him forwards and throwing him off balance once again. He rammed his elbow under his sternum, driving in and up as hard as he could. In response, the Senju grabbed him by the nape of his neck, spun them around, and tackled him to the floor.
Madara was never one to go easily, and the moment his back hit the cold stone, he bent at the waist, hooking the back of his knees over Tobirama’s shoulders and crossing his ankles behind his head. His hands he pressed against the Senju’s face, pushing him back as far as he could within the confines of his legs.
Tobirama hissed, his face starting to turn red, and he pressed down hard on the front of Madara’s throat with his own hands. “Bastard,” Madara grunted, unhooking one ankle to straighten out his leg. Then he brought his heel down, hard, onto the Senju’s spine.
Tobirama snarled out a curse, finally managing to bring one elbow up and press it against the inside of Madara’s knee, breaking his hold and wrenching his leg to the side to free himself. Madara stuck with him, grabbing his hair and shoving his head to the right, intending on smashing it on the edge of the table, but Tobirama balked, holding firm and using the table to brace himself so he wouldn’t get shoved into it.
“Stop fighting,” Tobirama growled, and Madara responded with a punch in the face. Tobirama grunted, but didn’t get off. Instead, he grabbed Madara’s punching hand and slammed it onto the floor next to his head.
A familiar click and the cold press of steel had Madara abandoning all efforts, turning his head to stare in disbelief at the handcuffs around his wrist, and on one of the hooks of the table. Which, judging from its size and make, probably weighed about 500 pounds.
Tobirama smirked down at him, still perched over him, and wiped his bloody mouth clean. Madara’s other, free hand, he held down with his knee. “Here’s what’s going to happen, princess. I’m only going to say this once, so I suggest you listen.”
“Fuck you!”
“Maybe. Anyways. I will retrieve your books, notes, phone, laptop, tablet, and anything else you might need. You will stay with me, here, for a total of 365 days. One exact year. You can continue your studies, if you wish, but you will only attend campus under the supervision of one of my men. You will not be permitted to leave the grounds without accompaniment, and if you violate this freedom, it will be taken from you. Do you understand?”
For a moment, Madara stared up at him, bewildered. “Why?” he demanded. “Why the hell do you want that?” Tobirama’s eyes revealed nothing.
“Because I do.”
“Bullshit, there has to be a reason! No sane person makes such ridiculous demands!”
Tobirama stared down at him for a moment, then sighed heavily, like the weight of the world was bearing down on his shoulders. “You want to know why I want you here?” he asked, slowly, quietly. For some reason, the change in his tone changed the entire atmosphere, and Madara nodded, keeping his words to himself. For now.
Tobirama pursed his lips for a moment, his gaze intense. “I want you here, because I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the night we met,” he said softly, so softly it was almost a whisper. “I brought you here, because I think that after you saved me, and after I watched you from afar, I came to realize something. You’re here because in the months, the weeks, the days since we met, you’ve consumed my every thought, my every waking hour, my dreams, and my desires. You’re here because I want you, and you have 365 days to decide if you want me back. If you don’t, I swear by all I have that you can walk out of here, untouched, unharmed, and you’ll never see or hear from me again. But if, at the end of 365 days, you come to feel the same for me as I do for you….” He paused, his fingers dancing up to trace Madara’s jaw. “Then I will hold you to my side for as long as we both live.”
“You’re insane,” Madara breathed. “You are absolutely psyc-”
“Maybe, or maybe not.” Tobirama put his finger over Madara’s lips to shush him, and for a moment, Madara was tempted to bite it. “You have 365 days, Madara. Until you fall in love with me, or until you don’t. Think of it as a vacation from your very stressful life.”
With a final, fond brush of his knuckles over Madara’s cheek, he stood up, touching his wine stained shirt, and glancing down at the ruined armchair and rug. “I will have these replaced for you. This is your new room, by the way. I think you’ll find it much harder to break out of than the last one you had. And I think I’ll let you calm down for an hour or so before I send someone to uncuff you. I’d hate for any of my people to come out with a split lip to match mine.”
“Screw you, you arrogant-”
“Such foul language,” Tobirama scolded. “It’s not very nice. You still have to work on your bedside manners. We’ll get there, I’m sure.” As he stepped back, retrieving his unbroken wine glass, Madara slowly sat up, tugging briefly against his cuffs, and glared at him as he sauntered around the sofa, heading towards the fancy double doors of the room. Before leaving, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Is there anything else you might need or want from your home?”
Madara sneered. “My fucking cat.”
For the first time, Tobirama looked confused, a little furrow forming between his eyebrows. “But you don’t have a cat….”
“Exactly! Good fucking luck, prick.”
Tobirama stared at him for a moment, then the corner of his mouth turned up, and he chuckled. “Ohh, this is going to be fun. I’ll see you later, Ojo.”
With that, he sauntered out the door, and it clicked shut behind him. For a long while, Madara stared at those doors, then slowly surveyed the room. Even if he could wiggle free of the handcuffs, there was no way he’d be able to MacGyver his way out of here.
It was fine. This was fine. He could still take his classes, do his studies….. Now he just had to wait out 365 to NOT fall in love with the guy that kidnapped him. Piece of cake.
With a groan, Madara pressed his hands against his eyes, willing the growing headache to leave him alone, and cursed his entire existence.