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Tobirama is twenty when an Uchiha boy tumbles out of thin air and proceeds to cry on him, clutching his shirt desperately tight, whole body shaking with the force of his sobs. By all rights it should read trap. And if it is, he muses, running a thumb along a scarred cheek, it has long since closed on the intended recipient because it certainly isn’t meant for him. He doesn’t recognize the boy but he isn’t much surprised, Izuna’s quite the attention grabber, they both are when it comes to each other. Regardless, a boy with teleportation skills— and it is teleportation, he didn’t sense anything until the portal opened, the possibilities! —with injuries like these? Deeply troubling.
Eventually, the tears taper off. Tobirama feels it’s safe now to withdraw and reassess. The boy makes a wounded noise when he pulls away, refusing to let go of the double handfuls of shirt he clutched, but that’s fine, Tobirama wasn’t going far anyway. Just far enough that he could get a good look at the boy’s face and mismatched eyes.
“You realize,” he says, dry but not harsh, “this is a troubling situation.”
“I just,” the boy choked, throat hoarse from crying. “I just want to know if it was a dream or not. I don’t want it to be a dream.”
“If by dream you mean your escape from whichever dungeon held you captive, I assure you, the lack of bars are very real,” Tobirama said. Because that was the only explanation that made sense given the context. The Uchiha would never do this to one of their own, not even to awaken a Sharingan. And to be driven to seek comfort in the arms of an enemy, an adult no less? Someone had been holding the boy for quite a while, and it definitely wasn’t the Senju Clan.
“No!” the boy cried, “Not that! I’m not—I wasn’t a prisoner!”
Tobirama severely doubted that. Call it a hunch.
“I just,” the boy buried his face in Tobirama’s front again. “I didn’t always understand Minato-sensei when he was rambling about space-time but I remember enough.” A shudder racked his frame. “Time’s supposed to be another dimension and I went back, I did, but nothing changed when I returned. Rin’s still dead, she’s dead, and I don’t know what to!” The boy looked up, eyes beseeching and lost. “You’re the expert! Why didn’t it work!?”
Oh, Tobirama thought, more pieces slotting into place. Oh. Oh. It wasn’t a whole picture, not by far, not even by a long shot. But it was enough, just enough, to get the general shape of what he was dealing with.
“It’s called the Set in Stone Principal,” he says, carefully cupping the boy’s elbows rather than his shoulders so he hopefully wouldn’t feel trapped. “It’s one of the laws of space-time consequential effects. Going back in time to tamper with your timeline doesn’t alter it; it causes a split where the altered timeline becomes a new dimension in its own right while your native timeline continues uninterrupted.”
That young, scarred face crumpled, fresh tears welling up in his eyes to accompany the misery and abject denial already there. Tobirama tipped the boy’s chin up when he tried to look away, trying to convey the sincerity with which he means his next words.
“Young man, whoever you tried to save, you succeeded,” He said with utmost seriousness. “You did. Trust me. It wasn’t a dream. Somewhere, there is a timeline where your friend didn’t die when she otherwise would have because you succeeded. It hurts that your own didn’t come back, I know.” Somewhere, there was a timeline where he got to watch all his brothers grow up, even if he could never experience it in this one. “But that change you wanted? You did it.”
The boy started sobbing again, loud, messy tears that came straight from a reservoir of grief, somewhere deep in the soul. Tobirama pulled the boy close, running his fingers through his hair, content to ride out the storm for as long as he needed too. It was a tad awkward to be doing this in the middle of a bunch of corpses, but the mission objective had been achieved so he had plenty of time for this. Once again, the boy eventually calmed, tapering off into exhausted silence. He trailed meekly after Tobirama when he led them back to his campsite and accepted food and water and a blanket with little fuss.
Slowly, Tobirama coaxed his story out of him. It was wondrous and horrifying in turns.
In the morning, he saw the boy off with a stern reminder to remember what he told him, and to make good choices.
Obito’s mismatched eyes glowed with an innerlight they’d lacked at the start, the Will of Fire reignited in his soul as it should be. “I won’t forget,” he said solemnly. “I know what to do now.”
Tobirama runs into Obito again nearly a year later. He almost wouldn’t have recognized him if it weren’t for the distinctive scars and mismatched eyes. What stood before him was not a lost teenager, but a young man in his majority, nearly his age and height. If only his timing wasn’t still awkward as hell.
“Um,” Obito blushed sheepishly. “Is this a bad time?”
“It could be better,” Tobirama acknowledged, snapping the Hagoromo’s neck with a grunt. “Can it wait until I’m finished?”
“Uh,” Obito cast a look around the clearing, kept safe from the flying kunai and shuriken with an utterly fascinating technique that turned him incorporeal. “Is this an ambush?”
Technically; in the sense that the squad of Hagoromo hadn’t known Tobirama was there until he sprung his trap. Eight to one odds meant things were rather unfairly stacked in Tobirama’s favor, much to the Hagoromo’s consternation. It didn’t take much longer to finish them off. He turned to his not-so-little-anymore-time traveler.
“Have you escaped your captors then?” Obito certainly looked healthier, mind and body, since he’s seen him last. The scars weren’t livid anymore, and he carried himself upright and calm, no longer bowed by the force of his grief and turmoil. Tobirama never thought he’d be thankful to see an Uchiha looking well but, in a strange sideways fashion that involved space-time acrobatics, Obito was one of his people. Or he would be, someday. The descendant of people Tobirama would one day consider part of his. Again, space-time acrobatics.
Obito flushed further and wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Ah, yeah. I, um, seriously considered what you said about Z—my circumstances and,” he looked up and Tobirama tried not to shift in discomfort at the clear gratitude shining in his mismatched eyes, “I snuck away. I went to Minato-sensei and told him everything. Madara was already dead, I mean, really, he only lived long enough to ensure I was back on my feet, so. So it was just Zetsu.” He chuckled softly, under his breath. “He really wasn’t expecting to get Kamui’d into a volcano.”
And that, that was fascinating. Teleportation that transported not only yourself, but people and objects independent of yourself? Even into extreme environments? He’d only just figured out how to translate simple teleportation into a rough seal matrix— because time travel is not the same as teleportation even if they’re both aspects of space-time — and the added complexity of teleporting anything with a measure of independence nearly made him space out trying to calculate it. How did the mangekyo get around needing anchors?
“—want to see it?” Obito looked so earnest and Tobirama had no idea what he just asked. Oops, guess he did space out.
“Pardon, could you repeat that?” Tobirama folded his arms, a little awkward now that he’d been so rude. “Apologies. I was—”
“A thousand miles away trying to figure something out?” Obito finished, dry and amused. “I recognize the look.”
“That’s...politer than people usually put it,” Tobirama agreed.
“Did you want to see the future?” Obito held out a hand. “My future, I guess. I can’t imagine you’d make the same choices knowing what you know now.”
Well no, of course not. Not now that he knew how dependent Uchiha mental health was on having stable anchors. Admittedly, no one took the death of their siblings well but you also wouldn’t expect their deaths to spiral out into a plot for (failed) world domination. That was kind of out there.
Tobirama took Obito’s hand without hesitation. “I would love to.”
It was the most fun Tobirama can remember having in his entire life. The looks on people’s faces were most amusing when Obito dumped them out right in the middle of a Council meeting with a sheepish oops. This Minato he’d heard so much about seemed to take it with good humor, calling for a brief recess to allow everyone to comport themselves.
Tobirama wasn’t quite sure what to make of the wizened Elders who were apparently once his students. His students. Gods, he barely felt himself knowledgeable enough to call himself a master and here are people who call him sensei like he deserves it. Minato was comparatively easier to deal with, leader and titan that he was Tobirama could still recognize a fellow fuinjutsu enthusiast. They spent a solid twenty minutes rambling chakra theory at each other before Obito’s not inconsiderable graciousness ran out.
For some reason, Minato looked particularly amused when Obito started insisting they’d interfered with his schedule enough and he’d promised Tobirama a tour, sensei. He promised!
And what a whirlwind tour it was; the markets, the academy, the mountain, the training grounds! Tobirama had never known such a feeling of safety as he’d found in the Konoha of his brother’s dreams, had never dreamed it possible to see Inuzuka and Hyuga and Nara and Uchiha all in place without bloodshed, only a united sense of purpose. It was enough to make a hardened shinobi reel.
Then there was Kakashi. Glorious, glorious Kakashi of the thousand jutsu and genius intellect and the shared sharingan eye; Obito’s Bakashi. As far as Tobirama knew, Kakashi had to be the only person in existence to wield a sharingan without dropping dead of the strain. Unlike the Hyuga, the Uchiha’s defense against theft was entirely biological and highly effective.
Kakashi who brought the tour to a grinding halt with a smirk at a flustered Obito and a casual invitation to dinner.
“Maa, Obito, you should have said you were lonely when I’m away on missions,” Kakashi remarked quietly to Obito later while watching the future Nidaime get buried under ninken. It said good things about the Senju that his pack were so receptive to his presence, animals often could sense the truth of a human’s nature long before humans themselves could.
“It’s not—!” Obito flushed. “It’s not like that, really. I just. Wanted to let him know that he helped. He deserved to know that, and that his future’s brighter than he thinks it is. That’s it’s not just…” He trailed off, expression solemn. “Both times I’ve met him it was during, or just after a battle. I wanted him to know that there’s more to look forward to than bloodshed.”
Kakashi hummed contemplatively, seemingly content to take that at face value. Then his expression turned sly. “Do you think if I casually remarked on the differences between Spiral Emission Theory as it applies to different elements I’ll get him to space out again?”
“Bakashi, no,” Obito said, expression going flat. “Stop trying to overwhelm him with what an elemental ninjutsu nerd you are.”
That sly look became an incredibly inappropriate leer, get that look off your face Bakashi. “Like you aren’t trying to impress him with your political and social acumen? I think he looked tempted to whip out a notebook last time.”
“Shut up!” Obito blushed a bright, incriminating red. Okay, maybe pointing out the exploitable weak spots in various administration systems had been a bit much for casual conversation. No one had ever accused Obito of half-assing. “It’s not like you weren’t impressed either. You’re both peas in a socially clueless pod, the both of you!”
“Maa, so rude Obito,” Kakashi simpered in that annoying manner he knew got right under Obito’s skin. “Oh, Tobirama! Which guest room would you like? You’re more than welcome to stay for however long it takes for Obito to return you.” The look on Kakashi’s face suggested he knew what he was doing perfectly well, thank you. Obito’s simmering embarrassment was just a bonus.
“That’s very courteous of you to offer, Hatake-san,” Tobirama carefully extricated himself from the impromptu puppy-pile, scritching ears and under chins when the ninken whined at him for leaving. “I had thought to air out a room at the Senju Compound till then.”
“A guest of Obito’s is a guest of mine,” Kakashi drawled cheerily, wrapping an arm around Obito’s shoulder and jerking him close when he tried to protest. “He’s the one who invited you, therefore it wouldn’t be right to make you seek your own accommodations.”
“He does have a point,” Obito grumbled begrudgingly. An unwilling flush was still clinging to his ears and cheeks because all three of them would in the same house. All of them! What was he going to do!?
Tobirama smiled in thanks and oh. Oh no. It was crooked and dimply and a little stilted and damn his type for being so predictable, Obito despaired. He glanced at Kakashi, only just curbing the urge to shove his middle finger in his smug face. Fine, okay, maybe he was in denial. There was no reason for the bastard to be so smug about it!
“I appreciate it,” Tobirama said, still smiling.
Honestly, Tobirama didn’t know why Obito thought he was being subtle. It wasn’t like he couldn’t draw the parallels between himself and Kakashi, numerous as they were. Plus the blushing, it was kind of a big clue. Watching Obito try to keep his mind out the gutter around them both was prime entertainment, like watching Hashirama attempt to be smooth around Mito minus the second hand embarrassment.
Kakashi seemed to be in agreement if the sly looks he was giving Tobirama across the dining table were any indication. Well, if he had permission then he guessed there was no need to hold back. They were both irrepressibly charming in their own ways and Tobirama wanted.
He started with Kakashi since he seemed to be the most openly receptive, politely asking for him to pass the soy sauce and letting his fingers brush lingeringly against his. Kakashi shot him an approving look under his lashes, the hint of a slow smile under his mask, Apparently he also felt no compunctions about throwing subtle out the window because a foot hooked around Tobirama’s ankle under the table and pulled it forward, rubbing teasingly over the strong bones.
He blinked, the only allowance he made for his startlement. Okay then.
“What are you two doing?” Obito asked, peering at them suspiciously over his chopsticks. “I know what your plotting face looks like Bakashi.”
“How suspicious,” Kakashi said, affecting a wounded air. “Can’t a man flirt with his boyfriend’s crush without being in the wrong?”
“Is that how it is?” Tobirama asked over the sound of Obito choking.
“Wouldn’t have it otherwise,” Kakashi said, smug and cheery.
“In that case,” Tobirama turned to a blushing Obito, expression thoughtful. He leaned forward, cupping the Uchiha’s cheek. “May I?”
“Yes!” Obito met his kiss eagerly, leaning in and tilting his head for a better angle. Tobirama slid his hand from Obito’s cheek to cup the back of his head, ruffling the short hair. The low, throaty noise Obito made when Tobirama mapped out his mouth with his tongue sent tingles down his spine. They parted with a breathless gasp. At some point Obito had worked a hand into Tobirama’s hair, clenching tightly.
“My, what a nice sight,” Kakashi hummed appreciatively, visible eye half-lidded. “And it’s not even my birthday.”
“Shut up, Bastard. Like I’d get you something this nice for your birthday,” Obito retorted, still a bit breathless.
“I like to think I’d have much nicer wrapping,” Tobirama agreed, smirking.
Kakashi and Obito considered him for a moment, eyes wide.
“Bed?” Obito turned to Kakashi, who nodded. “Bed,” he agreed.
Kakashi wasted no time rounding the table, pulling his mask down and yanking Tobirama into a heated kiss of his own. Letting Obito guide them down the hall without mishaps. Tobirama hit the bed with a soft ‘oof!’, pulling Kakashi down with him, fingers already working him out of his shirt. Obito pressed kisses to Kakashi’s neck from behind, hands unfastening his pants.
“Ah, no fair ganging up on me,” Kakashi ducked down to nip Tobirama’s throat, making a pleased noise when he automatically tipped his chin up to give him better access. A surprisingly trusting move for someone fresh from the Warring Era. “This won’t work if I’m the only naked one.” And saying such trailed his hand under Tobirama’s shirt, tracing his stomach muscles. Tobirama arched at the contact.
“But you’re just so pretty, Kakashi,” Obito nipped his ear and Kakashi gasped, “we just can’t resist.”
Tobirama felt warmth flood him at the appealing sight. He trailed a hand down Kakashi’s bare chest to watch him shiver and traced Obito’s scars with the other. “How do you want to do this?”
They paused.
“Obito?” Kakashi looked over his shoulder. “You brought him home, you get to pick.”
“Hmm,” Obito reached around Kakashi to trace a finger down Tobirama’s throat. “I think I want to watch him fuck you while I fuck him. What do you think, Tobirama, that sound good?”
Tobirama had to take a second to compose himself, the mental image inspired by Obito’s suggestion having stolen his breath, and his higher functions. “Indubitably. I mean. Yes. Yes, lets.” He scowled when both of them smirked at him. In retaliation he hooked a leg between Kakashi and Obito, pulling Kakashi close and rolling him under. Obito wasted no time plastering himself to his back, rolling his hips hard, grinding Tobirama’s erection into Kakashi’s.
“Again with the clothes,” Kakashi groaned, tugging at Tobirama’s shirt. “Shirt off.”
“Impatient,” Tobirama chided idly but none the less obliged. Even going so far as to tug Obito down beside Kakashi to help divest him of his clothes too, in between kisses. “Where do you keep the lube?”
Obito promptly pulled a bottle from between the mattress and the head board. He obligingly let Tobirama slick his fingers first before moving behind him. Tobirama preoccupied himself kissing down Kakashi’s toned stomach, reaching between his thighs and smirking when Kakashi gasped at the first languid stroke to his entrance. Then he was smothering a moan of his own when Obito stroked him, circling his ring with a thumb and pressing gently.
“Having difficulties?” Obito asked, applying more pressure with his thumb.
In answer Tobirama sucked a hickey into the junction where hip met thigh and pressed a finger into Kakashi’s entrance. Kakashi twitched, gasped, “I think we’re good.” He gave a shaky thumbs up, his other hand threading through Tobirama’s hair. His hips twitch when Tobirama nips his way to Kakashi’s erection and licks from root to tip.
“Um,” Obito stares, transfixed. Kakashi fixes him with a gimlet eye, the message clear. Tobirama moans, low and throaty, when Obito presses in first one, then two fingers in quick succession, scissoring and twisting and searching. He grinned gleefully when Tobirama arched with a wordless shout, muffling any further noises by burying his face in Kakashi’s curls and sucking bruises into the delicate skin there, making Kakashi writhe. A deep groan signified that Tobirama had found Kakashi’s prostate too.
Kakashi guides Tobirama to take him into his mouth and it’s the final straw for Obito, he can’t wait any longer. He slicks his cock and aligns himself to Tobirama’s entrance, pressing in slow and steady and careful, kissing down his spine. Tobirama is making exquisite, desperate noises around Kakashi’s cock that are just the best thing. Kakashi moans, quivering from the heat of Tobirama’s mouth and his fingers buried deep and pressing mercilessly on his prostate, and Tobirama takes him all the way down to the root and swallows.
Kakashi comes with a shout, curling up and thighs locking, shaking. He pulls Tobirama up into a messy kiss, drinking his moans as Obito thrusts, hard and intent and right there, right there—
By the time the fuzz fades from Tobirama’s vision he’s firmly ensconced between Kakashi and Obito, feeling pleasantly sore and just a bit sticky. “Apologies, Hatake,” he murmured into Kakashi’s shoulder. “Got a bit carried away there.”
“Anytime.” Kakashi sighed contented. “And call me Kakashi. Anyone that good with their mouth has earned it.” He waggled his brows and Tobirama laughed.
Obito made a deeply, deeply, aggrieved nose in the back of his throat. “Why do you have to be so crude?”
“Me?” Kakashi had the audacity to flutter his lashes. “You’re the one who nursed such a huge crush on Senju Tobirama you offered him a jaunt through space-time.”
Tobirama laughed again, twisting onto his back and tugging Obito into his side to nuzzle at his hair. “For which you have my thanks. Definitely the nicest date anyone’s ever offered me.”
“That’s just terrible,” Obito breathed, horrified, eyes wide. “All I did was show you around my home and introduce you to my boyfriend.”
“I introduced myself, thanks,” Kakashi drawled, wrapping an arm around them both. “And I invited him to dinner, which you were terribly remiss in.”
Obito stuck his tongue out at him, scowling. “Fine, then you plan the next date, Bakashi.”
Tobirama went still, breathless, “There’s going to be a next time?”
Obito and Kakashi looked at him in concern. “Do you not want there to be?” Obito asked, brows furrowed.
“I do!” Tobirama hastened to assure. “I just, what does one do in a long distance relationship?” Because obviously Tobirama couldn’t stay indefinitely, his Clan needed him.
“Maa,” Kakashi drawled, lazy and content once more. “We’ll make it up as we go along.”