Madara opened his brother’s door then immediately scrambled backwards and closed it again . . . mostly. He stopped and peeked through the narrow space he’d left open and told himself if Indra hadn’t glared at him and yelled for him to get out then it wasn’t a problem - Indra always noticed.
Although he quietly wondered if maybe, this time . . . his brother was just too distracted.
Tobirama sat in Indra’s chair behind his desk, head bowed and striking eyes closed, his shoulders slumped. Indra was leaning over him, expression soft and fond, fingers ruffling through his hair and massaging his head. He was speaking but Madara only caught a few words here and there, and . . . that wasn’t the part that snagged him, either.
He’d known his brother had gone from thinking Tobirama was a fascinating curiosity to delighting in working with him to, recently, enjoying physical intimacy with him, but. . .
Madara licked his lips, then pressed them together, closing the door on the sight of Tobirama straightening, very slowly, and leaning back into Indra. Indra who was looking down at Tobirama with an overwhelmingly warm, soft look in his eyes.
. . .it was more than Indra enjoying the way he thought and working with him - having someone who could challenge or outmatch him in jutsu and theory for the first time, Madara thought, with a regretful pang - and finding him attractive in addition. That was. . .
That was Indra’s heart in his eyes, Madara thought as he made his way back to his own office, the lunch invitation he had been going to issue forgotten as he tried to frame this in his head. How could he feel about it? Could he accept. . .
Could he do anything else? Indra had never been seriously taken with anyone, had barely had brief flashes of interest, and this was clearly far more. Could he do anything other than be happy for his so-often isolated older brother?
Madara smiled ruefully.