"So that's why I- Uh. Madara?" Hashirama paused, leaning in a bit and . . . sniffing, even as Madara side-eyed him and leaned away. "Madara you smell like . . . jasmine sencha?"

Madara huffed, crossing his arms, his - slightly damp, Hashirama now realised - hair falling forwards by one side of his face. "I- I ran into your brother this morning." he huffed, and Hashirama's brows rose. "Never mind, it's not important! What were you saying about that stupid petition? Focus, idiot!"

~

"Senju, this is not-" Madara skidded to a stop, face scrunching up as a warm splash dripped down his cheek and into his hair. He licked his lips, blinking slowly, and stared at Senju fucking Tobirama, standing before him holding a scroll with a delicate and ornate wave pattern in one hand and a (now) mostly-empty cup in the other.

Tobirama looked at him for a moment, wide-eyed and still, then twitched, eyes sparkling, and Madara drew a deep breath to shout but before he could speak Tobirama just- Burst into laughter, bright eyes crinkling, silvery hair flicking across his face as he struggled to catch his breath, only half-managing an apology that was hardly convincing as he gestured at Madara with the scroll.