Kindling

Tobirama thought that this was a little like watching a Uchiha fireball hit gasoline in slow motion (he had seen that once, it had been amazing and horrifying- well, more amazing than anything), there was nothing he could do but he already knew there was about to be screaming and running and pain. He drew in a deep breath as Sarutobi turned to him “And you’ll come with us of course? Right? After all we’re supposed to be at peace- peace for over a year- and what better way to demonstrate that than to be at our most vulnerable.” …had they forgotten that he was a suiton user? Hashirama stiffened beside him, well aware of Tobirama’s unwillingness to undress around anyone that wasn’t – well, wasn’t Hashirama “I’m sure that that’s not needed” he said (Tobirama was proud of his ability to keep his voice even and calm, it wasn’t easy for his emotional brother) watching the council with close eyes; Sarutobi smirked (Tobirama was beginning to wonder if he had ever done something to make the other man hate him so much or if it was just the normal revulsion he always seemed to prompt in others) “I’m sure he doesn’t mind, what could he possibly have to hide? We’re all shinobi here after all, I’m sure there is nothing new.” (Tobirama felt his hands shake) Hashirama’s hands clenched on the arms of his chair, wood twisting under his fingers “I can’t imagine why you are so invested in this Sarutobi” he was struggling to keep his voice above a hiss and Tobirama dropped his hand down to rest on his brother’s shoulder. “Very well” he said evenly, squeezing Hashirama’s shoulder gently when his brother flinched; Sarutobi smirked.

The hot springs had always been a place of calm for Tobirama and he… regretted that that was never going to be the same after this, still, what must be, must be and this mattered for some reason to Sarutobi so he would deal (he had too). He ignored the chatter of the clan heads as he untied his armor (Madara was here, it was a solace and a torment all at once – he always felt safer with the Uchiha but he didn’t, didn’t want Madara to see him, couldn’t bare it) until he heard a sharp voice (Shimura, not the clan head, his niece a rude, flirty girl Tobirama hated her that perused Madara fanatically) speak up “I know it’s all wonderful that we get along now but are we really going to get in the water with Senju Tobirama? I mean, just asking” he glanced at her over his shoulder as he unfastened to fur that protected his throat, grimacing when he saw the girl’s eyes fastened on Madara waiting for him to agree with her probably. He turned away again bending to the wraps around his lower legs, unwinding them methodically as he listened to the sudden ruckus until so fool pipped up (Tobirama could tell who in the noise) “-a chakra seal would-“ Tobirama couldn’t have stopped the full body flinch (dark room and the smell of blood and sex, metal biting around his wrists) if he had been given days to prepare. He turned to look over his shoulder in time to see his brother dressed only in his hakama burn with anger, turning on the Shimura  as the floor under his feet flexed “You’re the ones that wanted him to come, the ones that forced him to come, that is more than enough-“ Tobirama turned away, tuning out the voices with his brother’s protective anger burning at his back a reassuring warmth (he forced himself not to look at an increasingly naked Madara, he would make the Uchiha uncomfortable he knew even if the knowledge was a knife to his throat).

Yamanaka Kiku might have been old but there was a reason that her clan head had brought her to every council meeting; she was watchful, careful and observant and held her own counsel (much to Ichirou’s frustration sometimes when she refused to speak to him until she sorted through her thoughts), and had seen more in her long life than almost any. Her time with the Gashia had taught her more than just how to behave in a way that hid everything and convinced men to talk to her about everything, and after that there had been the time working with Guides (she forced down a shiver at the thought of that time, it was a travesty in every way) which had lead her back to the clan compound permanently to see that no Yamanaka Guide was ever treated thus; she had forced the clan to give up the Spur-braking of Guides (as the sister of the clan head at the time and one of their most accomplished assassins she had the power to do that, barely but enough) and forced changes to the Adjustment, overseeing it herself and slowly swaying the clan away from belief that it was necessary. Her old observant eyes saw what others might not have (though she had noticed the way the Uchiha clan head’s eyes seemed to wander to the pale Senju as if drawn to a loadstone- it was too bad that the albino wasn’t a Guide, if he was and was a little less cold they would be a good match), she saw the Senju coolly striping off his armor and clothing, reacting to the fuss behind him only when a chakra seal was brought up (as a sensor chakra seals would be extremely uncomfortable, but for the ever controlled Senju to react like that) otherwise simply undressing (he seemed to calm as his brother got angry, sometimes it was possible to forget how frightening the Senju clan head was, and then there was times like this).

As he striped his shirt off over his head Kiku snuck another glance at him (and tried not to snicker, she wondered if Uchiha had realized that he had all but stopped undressing to watched) trying to –

no

no

please sweet kami no

oh, but that sweet boy, oh terrible kami why

how-? How strong must he be to be still so calm, to be so restrained and protect them so

Kiku was hardly aware of freezing, hand pressed tightly to her mouth as nausea surged through her at the sight of the small red scars scattered from Tobirama’s skin from his rib cage almost to his knees (like tiny bloody stars spread over a moon-pale sky), so thick in some places as to paint white skin a variegated vermilion. (She didn’t even see dark Uchiha eyes dart to her or the frown on Madara’s face at the horrified look) She swallowed convulsively, trying desperately to force down the bile; if Tobirama had gone so long hiding this, had held his sanity under even under, under - if he had survived all of this she wouldn’t be the person to let those that would take advantage of his pain know his secret, wouldn’t be the one to do that when he deserved her respect, more of it than she had ever given another. Kiku dropped her head, pulling her eyes away from the scaring with difficulty as Tobirama moved to wash; all thought of politics and matchmaking driven right from her head.

Madara had been certain this entire farce was a bad idea when he had seen Hashirama stiffen at the idea of bathing with his brother, when he had heard the change in Tobirama’s breathing and seen the suddenly white knuckles but the Senju brothers were given little option as the council pressured them (and Madara knew it must be on Tobirama’s behalf, he had bathed with Hashirama before, knew the man to be not the slightest bit body shy, so why were they so tense at the idea of Tobirama bathing communally?); it was clear from their reactions that something was wrong and it bothered him to not know what (it bothered Izuna too though he had no way to know that Tobirama was distressed without Sentinel senses, but then his little brother had always watched Tobirama with overwhelming suspicion). Even without knowing though he wasn’t ok with the way that both brothers looked (sounded, Tobirama’s heart was racing worryingly, and why wasn’t that on his face) and the way that Hashirama was pressed close to his brother as he could be without giving to much away; the fact that he didn’t know how to help made his skin itch, (when had he become so invested in Tobirama and why?) and no amount of telling himself he was being foolish made any difference at all really. Madara couldn’t help settling himself a little between Tobirama and the rest of the room, fairly close to where Hashirama was doing the same farther into the room ensuring that anyone would have to slip past both of them to get close to the younger Senju without making it obvious; for now that would have to be enough for Madara’s antsy instincts (why were they running in overdrive?).

It was ok, for a while, as they all stripped off formal robes with or without armor (Madara was more than a little fascinated to see that Tobirama held his happuri on with chakra not ties of some sort, that was impressive control), it was fine (ish, Tobirama’s heart rate and breathing were worrying him) until that bitch Shimura spoke up in her whiny grating voice (he swore she could send him into a zone all on her own) and pointed out what Madara had been wondering about for a while but no one else seemed to have realized; getting into the water with Tobirama was walking into a dry August field with an Uchiha, except worse. Idiots. They immediately disintegrated into shouting right up until someone mentioned a chakra seal (Madara winced that would be cruel to a sensor) and panic pure and raw flashed through Tobirama, spiking his scent (there was something..) with terror as his heartrate and breathing got worse, freezing as his hands shook. And then Hashirama’s temper- normally easily soothed and hard to rile- exploded, the entire building flexing (he could hear the wood creak, smell the fibers shift, see the ripple of given life) as he sprung to his brother’s defense; Tobirama’s back and scent eased, the fear abating a little (had he really though that they Madara would let something like that happen?) with his brother’s anger.

Madara stripped his shirt over his head, reaching to tie his hair up and twist it into a messy knot near the tope of his head (it was a pain when wet) and glancing at the Senju as he did so, hardly noticing when his movements sowed as he watched the slim back flex as long fingered pale hands curled in the edge of his shirt and stripped it over his head in one sharp movement (he was afraid again); Madara swallowed, entranced by the play of long strong muscles under china white skin and swirling red tattoos spread over his shoulders like the fur he normally wore. His eyes dropped appreciatively, skimming down the graceful spine and frowning a little at the odd marks all over his sides; what were they? Without a closer look Madara couldn’t even tell if they were scars or more- if strange- tattoos given the way two long red tapered lines dropped off the main tattoo along his ribs and vanished in the odd red scar like marks (but what left scars like that? In that strange pattern Madara had never seen before?). a sudden shift in scent and tight sound made he twitch, dragging his eyes away from Tobirama with difficulty (he might be a cold bastard- maybe?- but there was no denying he was a beautiful one) and looking at the Yamanaka elder; the look on her face and sudden nausea (wait, why were his senses so strong and calm right now?) making his movements stutter, she looked… she looked horrified, like she had seen something the denizens of hell itself rise up in front of her, looked like she was going to be sick. And it wasn’t just horror in her gaze, it was… awe? And respect and grief and guilt as she gazed at Tobirama’s ribs; clearly she knew what those marks were.

The woman dropped her eyes as Tobirama stripped off his pants (even distracted and concerned Madara had to take a moment to admire the way his ass looked, damn but his pants did him no justice at all, that was… wow) and moved to wash off, his back tight and pulling tighter one he got out of Hashirama’s shadow where his brother was no longer between him and the rest of the room; Madara moved before he thought, striping down quickly and efficiently before moving to stand next to the albino (not too close, his breathing stuttered when he saw Madara and the Uchiha didn’t want to make him uncomfortable) and between him and the others, far more pleased than he should have been when the narrow shoulders relaxed with Madara a ballast between him and those that would deride him. The Uchiha forced his eyes ahead as he rinsed off (no matter how much he wanted to watching Tobirama) keeping his hair carefully out of the water and joined a moment later by a sharp eyed Izuna; he had to pace himself carefully to make sure that he was done only seconds after the albino- and just as they were joined by other counselors to wash off- as stood practically after the other man to slip out of the room and into the cooler air around the hot springs (Hashirama gave him a glance when he saw Madara following his brother, worried and watchful, but his shoulders dropped a little anyway, he knew that whatever Madara thought about Tobirama he would keep an eye on the younger man for Hashirama’s sake if nothing else).

It wasn’t until the albino slipped gracefully in the water that Madara noticed (for fucks sake, how had it take him that long to notice) because the sound he made as hot soothing water-a deep rich hum- set off a sense memory in Madara (strong fingers in his hair, a perfect touch to sooth and stimulate, a rich warm voice humming a song he didn’t know and luring him out of the empty gray space, the smell of darkvanillafreshcrispmintsweetwater a siren’s song he followed out of the deep). Transfixed the Uchiha shifted closer as the pale Senju slipped under the water, rising up out of it with another pleased hum as a little sweat beaded on his skin from the heat and let his scent spike in the space and vanillamintwatersage slipped through Madara’s senses like the taste of fresh air after a long imprisonment (Guide); it was…. Madara shivered, keeping himself from going to (Guide) the Senju only with strength of will and the forced knowledge that he had no way of knowing for sure that Tobirama was a Guide, after all the other man had never given even the slightest indication that he was one. And wasn’t that interesting, if Tobirama was a Gide that meant he had never once given it away, never once tried to pull any Sentinel (never tried to pull Madara, never tried to force him, and a Guide had told him once that it was almost impossible not to pull at a Sentinel of his strength), never once tried to use Thrall to his advantage on the battlefield, never once overrode another’s choices.

Madara watched as Hashirama joined his little brother, retreating to the other side of the pool against the pull of suddenly awake senses; Izuna settling beside him startled him (Izuna fought not to gape, he hadn’t surprised his brother since he cam online) and he blinked out of his too tight focus (vanilla-richdark-mint-refreshing) to stare to his brother. He gave his head a good shake and frowned down at the water; he had always promised himself that he would never take a Guide, never be controlled (Tobirama had never tried to control anyone) but the zones had been getting worse and (a strong back and shaking hands and Hashirama leaning close in comfort) and he wasn’t unaware of what was coming if he couldn’t get them under control. “Izuna” he said, slow and quiet “if I found a Guide, one that I thought I could want, and one that had never tried to pull or thrall anyone but they were… someone you hated, someone I almost can’t trust, what would-“ Izuna grabbed his hands, holding tight “You should try to see if they fit you, if there’s even the smallest chance that you could stand them, could bond, you should try. No matter who they are. After all if they’ve never tired to force someone they can’t be that bad, right? Please brother, I don’t want to lose you. I promise I would learn to love them for your sake, if hey could keep you safe I wouldn’t care who they were, not even if they were the Senju Demon himself.” Madara smirked a little, because, well, with an answer like that was he supposed to do?

He nodded, taking a deep breath “Ok, I don’t know if they are a Guide but, I’ll check, it will be easy enough.” He gave himself a good shake, drifting over to where Tobirama was relishing the heat, a delicate flush distracting Madara for a moment before he moved closer; Hashirama was distracted talking to the Nara head, he hadn’t noticed that Madara was coming closer to his brother or the way that Tobirama was having difficulty reaching his back with the cloth in his hands (scars then, that made the most sense as something that  could impede movement). Madara slipped closer, hardly noticing the way his focus was narrowing, “Let me wash your back?” he asked (those nearby started, sending entranced looks at the Uchiha and Senju), Tobirama started (heartrate and hands, face still utterly still), hesitated “I couldn’t ask-“ Madara shifted closer, voice dropping “Please?” Tobirama looked at him, something shifting behind his (pretty) red eyes before sagging a little (there was no way he could ever say no to his Sentinel, to Madara who was wonderful and passionate and cared and smart and-) “Yes, if you wish too” Madara nodded, trying to keep his growing anticipation out of his face as he stepped closer and took the cloth from unresisting fingers.

Madara forced his hands not to shiver with anticipation as Tobirama turned his back, focus so narrow that he didn’t even notice the silence from the rest of the group or the way Izuna was gapping (he knew he had said -  but he hadn’t actually thought -); Madara followed those long red lines (they almost looked like a seal) with his eyes, dipping the cloth in the water and bringing up his hands to slide the rough fabric down Tobirama’s back (the skin under the cloth jumped and shivered, Madara’s mouth was watering) entranced. It was hardly even a thought to slide his fingers sideways as he brought his hands up again and let his bare skin brush against the albino’s for the first time (MINE); and all the many little almost zones (standing at the gate waiting for Mito, at the festival with an aching head), the large deep one recently (a rich voice humming), even as a teenager in Wind country (a large leopard watching him), flashed through his head all at once. He shifted his weight- his was breathing fast, he could feel it where his hands were spread over heaving ribs, rag forgotten- wanting to move closer but – “Are you mine?” he asked, voice rough and deep (eyes in the pool went huge, Tobirama was facing away from them but-); a hesitation, then a slump, resignation and exhaustion “Yes” echoing more than it should in the space “but you are not mine, so there is nothing to-“ Madara was moving forward before he knew it, plastering himself against the narrow back as close as he could (ooooohhhh, that felt…) at the tired, sad sound of those words.

Tobirama jolted, spasming in his arms, a tight wanting noise sliding out too quietly for anyone but Madara to hear; the Uchiha tucked him closer, one arm around sharp hip and the other angled across his chest to press a hand to his heart, tucking his nose to the fast pulse point and breathing in the smell that had so often saved him from the zone – his, his, his Guide, his. “Why” he asked, “why are you mine but not me yours?” (behind them Hashirama shifted, putting himself between the observers and his brother and best friend), Tobirama shuddered, shaking “A one-way bond is still a bond, one willingly taken. But I would never force you to-“ Madara nuzzled impossibly closer “I know.” He rasped, then “Let me feel you Guide” Tobirama twitched and Madara tightened his hold; a moment later he was rewarded as Tobirama’s Presenceunfurled over the silent spring, spreading like feathering oncoming night and making Madara’s arms lock around him. The Uchiha didn’t even think, teeth sinking into white skin and his own senses expanding, soaking in the scentfeeltastesound of his Guide “Madara, you’ll bond” Tobirama whispered, aghast; Madara bit harder, there was no way he was completing a bond here but this was enough for now, enough to lock his Guide in his mind as tightly in his mind as he could “MINE”.