I wish you would write a fic where Hashirama adopts (gets adopted) by a lunatic cat named Madara who keeps cockblocking Hashirama with Mito. Also the cat is very ambivalent with Tobirama (please please but no pressure)
(For the “I wish you’d write a fic where…” meme.)
Content warnings: Language.
Notes: Sorry it took so long for whatever this is :’( I’d have loved to write an entire novel of cat!Madara shenanigans but unfortunately no time.
*
“Please,” Hashirama begs, close to tears. “Please, just two nights! Mito’s going to divorce me if we don’t get any alone time soon!”
“You’re not married.”
“Pre-emptively divorce me.”
“Why not Itama? Itama likes cats.”
“Itama accidentally stepped on Madara’s tail a few months ago and they haven’t been on petting terms since.”
“And I am? He slashed my arm last month! I wasn’t even reaching for him, I was reaching for my tea and he came out of nowhere to attack me!”
“It was only really a tap,” Hashirama hedges, sniffling. “He was only playing with you. And Kawarama’s got the dogs otherwise I’d ask him.”
“I’m sure Madara can hold his own against the dogs.”
“That’s the problem,” he moans. “Please, Tobi!”
“Don’t call me that!”
Hashirama blows his nose loudly.
“Oh, alright!” Tobirama fumes. “But if he bites or scratches me, I’m locking him in the bathroom with enough food and water until you get back.”
“THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANK—”
Tobirama hangs up in disgust. Hashirama stuffs his cell into his pants and rushes home from the park a safe distance – out of cats’ hearing range – from the flat.
“Mito!”
“Where were you? I heard you come in and immediately rush off.”
“Just taking a walk,” he says, winking too many times to be subtle. “Tobirama agreed to babysit!”
Mito immediately drops her book. “Really?”
“Two days on the sea!”
“Two days’ opportunity to fuck without the threat of claws,” Mito whispers distantly. “No screeching cat outside the door. Oh, I don’t know if I can wait.”
Madara erupts into the room, shrieking. Hashirama swings him up and cuddles his face into springy black fur. Paws bat violently at his head, claws retracted.
“Never mind,” Mito says dryly, picking up her book again.
*
Getting Madara to Tobirama’s house would be nothing short of impossible, meaning Tobirama has to enter the devil’s den. The devil being eight kilograms of fur and malice.
(The fur alone makes up six of those kilograms.)
Tobirama told Hashirama just to leave the house as normal, but he insists that Madara will think he is being abandoned if they leave without a goodbye. He sits on the only non-furred sofa and sips his tea as Hashirama tries valiantly to remove Madara’s claws from his leg.
“We’ll be back in just two days!” he says with false cheer. “Be good for Tobirama! I’ll call you tomorrow morning!”
“I am not,” Tobirama hisses, “facilitating a phone call between you and a cat.”
Hashirama ignores him. Madara is finally removed from his person with minimal bodily trauma. “Kiss, kiss! I love you!”
With that, he hurls Madara across the room – low enough for him to merely skid across the floorboards – and legs it. Mito slams the door after them. Madara crashes into the shut door a split second later, HOWLING.
Tobirama carefully sets down his teacup. Perhaps he had agreed too quickly to this nightmare, he thinks, but Madara does not try to attack: he screams at the door, running back and forth. Claws rake already flaking wood.
Tobirama feels something like pity watching the frantic animal try to find a way out, after his humans. It is then, as if sensing this weakness, that Madara turns to him.
A healthy amount of adrenalin, Tobirama would say, is released into his system. “If you bite or scratch me, or for that matter piss or shit anywhere near me, you will be locked in the bathroom until Sunday evening. Do you understand?”
Madara spits at him, advances close enough for Tobirama to draw up and brandish his house slipper threateningly, and darts off to find an open window. There are none; Mito had triple-checked and checked again. Madara, seemingly born and raised on the streets before latching onto Hashirama one cursed year ago, has a habit of bringing home dead and sometimes injured animals if he’s allowed outside unsupervised.
The live, venomous snake that he had found god knows where, considering they live in the middle of the city, and left in the sitting room seemingly as a gift had been the last straw for Hashirama. No more outside cat.
*
Tobirama somehow makes it to dinnertime unscathed. Madara had spent a few hours howling at every door and window available, but finally accepted the futility and instead went into hiding. Tobirama is half-sure he has disappeared when he opens the tinned food, and suddenly there Madara is, storming into the kitchen.
He dumps the tin’s contents into the wet food bowl and dashes away as quickly as possible. Madara goes back into hiding when he is full, but emerges silently once more when Tobirama is frying up his fish. Idiot, he chides himself. He throws a bit of cooked fish in offering and guards his plate. Madara glares at him from the elaborate cat tree next to the sitting room window for a straight two hours before Tobirama decides now is a good time to lock himself in the bedroom to sleep.
He washes up and texts Hashirama that there have been no casualties (as of yet). Madara is loudly grooming himself in the sitting room when Tobirama does a sweep of the house, making sure the windows are shut and the front door locked. Madara glares at him as if he’s the one licking his own asshole in the family room and Tobirama scoffs and goes upstairs.
“Good night, beast. You best not keep me up.”
Sleeping in Hashirama and Mito’s bed is not his idea of a good night’s sleep, but it’s that or the sofa. At least they had changed the sheets for him. He shuts the door and pointedly turns the key to lock it.
As if that’d keep him out, Tobirama thinks, rolling his eyes as he flicks off the bedside lamp and gets into bed.
*
The door thuds open. Tobirama bolts upright, staring blurrily into the dark. Something hares across the room—
“How did you get in here?!”
Madara leaps onto the bed and stalks across the mattress, growling loud enough to shame the neighbourhood dogs. Tobirama rolls away and covers his face, but no strike comes. Madara instead throws himself down between the two sets of pillows, in a slight indentation that Tobirama really should have known was his sleeping spot.
Terrifyingly, settled and kneading the duvet, Madara begins to purr. It sounds like the spluttering rumble of an old diesel engine.
“You beast, what have you done?” Tobirama bemoans. He slides carefully out of the bed and goes out into the hall with a hand clamped over his nose and mouth, expecting to smell shit or piss or the innards of some animal.
He finds nothing.
He searches the house from top to bottom. No bodily excretions, no animal corpses, no broken dishes or prized vases, no new furniture damage. The windows and doors are still locked. He even checks his shoes for any gifts, but they are just as he left them. There is food around Madara’s bowl and water splashed around the cat drinking fountain as if he had dipped his paws in and walked about, but Hashirama had already warned him what a messy eater Madara was.
He grabs an extra blanket from the linen cupboard and makes a pathetic bed on the sofa for the night—only to wake an hour or so later to a diesel engine atop him, claws kneading his chest.
“If you’re going to kill me, just do it, you coward,” Tobirama mouths. A furry head bumps into his chin and nuzzles his face, claws pricking his skin in warning.
Madara settles down, paws under his body in what Hashirama fondly calls the bread loaf position. Eventually, Tobirama falls asleep beneath the rumbling sack of hair and wakes unscathed in the morning (other than the coating of fur that refuses to brush off).
*
It is a very long two days of spitting fur out of his tea and withstanding Madara’s knife-edge affection, but Tobirama somehow makes it out without any injuries.
When Hashirama begs him to babysit next, he wearily agrees.
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Something something 80s American horror movie where, as a side plot, Hashirama keeps mentioning his girlfriend that goes to another school, you wouldn't know her—oh, her name is... Maddy! Yeah, her name is Maddy :) and at the very end of the movie, as Hashirama, Tobirama, Touka & Mito pull up to prom traumatised and covered in blood, they pass by a guy in his dad's tuxedo playing cards with some unnamed background characters. He immediately scrambles up and, seemingly glazing over the blood and gore, yells, "Senju! Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to show up after you begged me to come to the lamest event of the year? I'm making waves in the Magic! community and I didn't know how to play four hours ago!"
Hashirama leaps into his arms and gives him a big wet kiss on the cheek. "Maddy! You came to the lamest event of the year! For me!"
"Who the hell is Maddy? Did those Penthouse magazines finally rot your brain?"
Tobirama, Touka and Mito are too traumatised from fighting God to really pay them any mind. They go inside, wash off in the girls' bathroom, and eat leftover prom snacks while HashiMada slow dance to Fear of the Dark. The end.
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Hashirama dives behind the nearest wall and fumbles for his cell phone.
"Hello? Don't you have a presentation in two minutes?"
"I just met Uchiha Madara and he said he likes my dick. What the hell am I supposed to do? I invited him to watch the new film with me!"
"Who?" Touka asks impatiently.
"Uchiha! Madara!"
"I suppose the name is familiar... Is he the one who fucked himself with the eleven-inch tentacle dildo? I don't know why they even bothered making it eleven when it could have been—"
"What on God's green Earth are you talking about? Did he do that?"
"Someone did. May not have been him. You know what? I think I saw it on a strap site. Does he do pegging?"
Hashirama hears the rapid clacking of her keyboard.
"Oh, no, wasn't him," she says boredly. "Uchiha only does male/male videos. How do you know who he is, then? Are you considering making a male/male video? I wouldn't recommend it if you want to keep making For Women, but you have been dominating this market for a decade... It could be time to break into something new. How do you feel about bisexual threesomes?"
"The real question," Hashirama splutters when he finds his breath again, "is how did you see a video on a strap site?"
"Do you not pay me to analyse what women want? The data shows women want to fuck men in the ass with unique dildos. You're going to be late for your presentation."
He's already late!
"We'll talk about this later!"
"Great. I'll make up a report on pegging statistics."
"About you using the research budget for personal use!"
"I'm only doing what you pay me to. It's on company time and the websites are legit. The research budget is being put to good use."
Hashirama groans and hangs up. He should have called Tobirama if he wanted someone to bash him over the head with a lead pipe for leading on strange men at porn conferences.
Networking, Madara thinks as he sulks around the 20XX AV Conference, is bogus. When this shit is over he's crawling back to his indie hole and ignoring Hikaku's advice about branching out from obscure kinks and opening up new revenue streams. He's never seen so many nosejobs in one place.
The conference hall is packed to the brim with AV superstars and nobodies alike for dullard presentations on hot new trends and ass-kissing awards for standout actors. Madara can barely keep track of his manager, thus he does a neat double-take when he spots, with his own two eyes, Senju Hashirama speaking with an employee next to an information booth. He is dressed as if he expects to accept an Oscar: sleek black suit, heeled boots Madara might actually kiss if asked nicely, and a one-of-a-kind floral shirt buttoned only halfway up his stupidly lickable chest (so maybe not an Oscar).
Hikaku hisses at Madara to be normal, for the love of god as he marches single-mindedly across the conference hall. Madara declines to notice.
Senju looks up and smiles politely when he senses someone approach. Madara thrusts out a hand and says, "Uchiha Madara, actor and director. Big fan of your dick."
Hikaku turns on his heel and leaves the hall altogether. The employee slowly backs away into the safety of the booth.
Senju shakes his hand bemusedly and replies, "Thank you. I'm not familiar with yours but I'm sure it's perfectly adequate."
"No, I don't suppose you would be, but I can send you a few of my films."
Senju blinks, looks him up and down, and asks politely: "Are you by chance flirting with me or are you simply, as you said, a big fan of my dick?"
"Both, but whichever keeps you talking to me."
Senju grins and reaches into his pocket. Madara dazedly accepts a sleek, minimalist business card.
"You're a real character, hm? They're screening my newest film at 7. I have a presentation in a few minutes or I'd take you to lunch, but text me if you want to sit together. It'll be a real hoot!"
Madara agrees and watches Senju's ass disappear into the crowd before looking down reverently at the card in his hands.
Senju Hashirama
AV Actor | Ethical Porn Consultant
Book me: 03 1900 1023
If this is what Hikaku meant by networking, then Madara won't ever ignore his sage managerial advice again.
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