“Ah, I’m sorry, Madara, but you’ll have to repeat that.” Despite the casual tone, it hardly seemed like Tobirama was trying to hide his smirk. Madara gripped the edge of the man’s desk harder, knuckles white and jaw tight.
“I said I need your help, Senju.” This was necessary. This was absolutely necessary, and slugging him would be counterproductive - no matter how therapeutic the idea seemed.
Tobirama hummed, clearly taking great pleasure from his groveling. It made Madara’s usually high blood pressure skyrocket into dangerous new levels. “I suppose I could help you. He does tend to listen to me more. But,” he took a moment to shuffle some reports on his desk, no doubt just to aggravate him further by making him wait. The asshole. “What, exactly, would I be getting from this?”
At this point, Madara would be willing to do anything to get Hashirama to see reason. He’d been trying to stop the marriage proposals for months now. The idiot was mixing them into all of his files and reports, leaving stacks of them on his desk. Stapling them to his personal notes he needed for speaking with the council. Gluing them to his front door.
But the blind dates. The blind dates were the worst. He never knew who to trust anymore. Never knew if he was meeting with Izuna for some brotherly bonding or if there would be some stranger waiting to have lunch with him - because of course the damned brat was in on it too. And even work meetings had somehow turned into personal attacks on his person, potential marriage partners slipping into the meetings and being introduced without warning.
It pained him to be here, to have to come to Tobirama for help, to outright beg for it. But it had to stop. “Name your price.”
The wicked flash of teeth made him want to break something. “Come again? Afraid I missed that, too.”
“Name. Your. Price. Senju.” He’d likely break his teeth if this went on much longer, clenching them as tight as he was, hissing through them. And no doubt he’d regret this whole conversation later as well. Nothing good could come out of being in Tobirama’s debt. Shame he had no choice at this point.
“Anything, you say?” Tobirama drummed his fingers on his desk, leaning back in his chair as if thinking hard on what torture to dish out. “I suppose, if I can have anything-”
“Yes, anything, so just spit it out and let me be on my way!” Gods, did he want to kill this man. Wring his pretty little neck. But no, apparently that might upset someone else, and sage forbid he do something for himself for once.
Madara paused, all thoughts of irritation-induced murder coming to a screeching halt. “...dinner?”
“Dinner. At my house. Tomorrow night.”
...that was it? No weeks of doing his work for him? No embarrassing stunts in public? No shaving half his head?
“Alright.” He straightened back up to leave, not at all willing to question his good fortune.
“Y-you do know I meant like a date, yes?” Hand already on the door, Madara turned back at the question, finding Tobirama flushed pink.
“Believe it or not, I’m not that dense.” He left without another word, feeling quite good about that unexpected outcome. Soon the unwanted marriage proposals would stop - and having a quiet date with an extremely attractive man would be the perfect celebration.