It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out Hashirama and Merlin had a history.

I had never seen Hashirama so stiff, so nervous. I had honestly never really seen Hashirama stiff and nervous at all, but this was really something else, and would have been for anyone. Whenever Merlin came into his close proximity, Hashirama would look down, chopping vegetables like mad, hiding behind a few strands of his beautiful hair that fell from his bun. Whenever Merlin came to work, Hashirama went from soft and chatty to a closed shell, hiding that beautiful pearl that was his soul within himself. Hashirama even stopped cooking with me after work, coming up with excuses which hurt me deeply. I believed he didn't understand it hurt me. I had that about me, I thought. People thought I was unhurtable.

But Merlin the sous chef was nothing but polite and respectful towards Hashirama. He was handsome, I thought; tall and slim with tousled blonde hair that had strands of grey in it, a stubble that was darker blonde and not quite long enough to count as a beard, and wrinkles around his eyes as if he'd smiled a lot throughout his life. I couldn't imagine what had ever happened between them that made Hashirama shun him so much. But Merlin avoided Hashirama as well, probably feeling the tension from him, and didn't ask him to chop or prep anything, doing it himself to spare Hashirama from talking to him. I wondered if Merlin knew what a chef Hashirama truly was. Maybe, Merlin knew the role of junior was beneath Hashirama and thus didn't want to use him as such. 

I interacted a bit with the blonde surfer sous chef myself from time to time. I had to, seeing I was now head chef and had to give orders. And he was endlessly pleasant.

"Merlin. Plate, please!"

"Yes, chef!" he said happily and then kept whistling while plating up something perfect. Maybe, he had changed from the man he was when he and Hashirama had last met.

Whenever I said his name, however, I could see Hashirama's shoulders tense up. I couldn't help but see the humour in that; for every time I said Merlin's name, his shoulders would go up little by little until, at the end of the day, they were basically in the ceiling.

"Relax", I would tell him, walking up behind him and massaging them back down to Earth. "You're safe", I would murmur much more hotly into his ear. "I'm here."

He would turn then, put his arms on my shoulders as I had my hands on his waist, and we would kiss shortly.

That was something new for me as well. T and I were desperate to fuck each other, as if we had limited time together and needed to hurry, but with Hashirama, it felt different. It was... Important. No rush. Nothing to worry about and no reason to hurry as I trusted him enough to believe he would stay with me. With Tobirama, there was none of that safety and I couldn't help but think about what he'd said, that he thought Hashirama would be better for me than he ever would.

I was torn. I was torn between the two men in a way I didn't want to be. I tried to convince myself that the situation was not about me choosing which one was best, but I couldn't help but notice that that was exactly the situation I was putting myself in. I loathed myself for it.

I sat down in my window, looking out over my beloved Paris, on the Eiffel Tower. I desperately wanted to take Hashirama there on a date, I thought. I'd never wanted to take Tobirama on a date. I breathed in the smoke from my cigarette.

I smiled a little.

Because all in all, I was happy. 

Hashirama changed.

For every day Merlin was in our kitchen, the beautiful, chestnut-haired man closed himself a bit further. I also noticed Hashirama was always hyper-aware of where I, T and Merlin were. It wasn't like him. I always looked for him and T. T always looked for me and Hashi. But Hashi, in turn, had always looked cool, doing his chores calmly while smiling, trusting that we would still be there even if he wasn't constantly looking for us. Now, however...

I noticed he lost focus particularly when Merlin interacted with T. I bit my lip. Was Hashirama actually jealous? Of whom? Tobirama or Merlin? And why wasn't he jealous when I spoke to Merlin? Was I jealous? Of Tobirama or Merlin?

I got a headache from all the thinking.

But what mostly got to me was the way Hashirama seemed to dumb himself down. Even when doing simple tasks like chopping, he did them slowly and without any kind of gusto. I had, of course, already realised he was hiding his talent for some reason, but he'd never hidden it to this level. This was ridiculous.

"Why do you do this?" I asked him once in the kitchen, loudly so everyone around could hear. "I know you're better than this." Even Merlin, who always seemed to mind his own business, singing or whistling happily, looked up.

I instantly regretted it. Hashirama looked up at me, and I expected his face to display shock caused by me being so revealing about his true talent, but saw nothing of the sort. Instead, he gave Merlin one short, panicked look, then looked at me with so much hurt in his eyes, tears welling up in them, that I stopped breathing.

He pushed past me and left.

How could you do this? Hashirama's soul said to my heart. You know I wouldn't be hiding if it wasn't important.

I swallowed. Was Hashirama in danger? Had I put him in danger?

I did cardio in the gym that night.

His face lit up when he saw me in a way I wasn't used to. I looked down, hid my lower face in my scarf; the spring air was a bit chilly and even if I'd switched my thick, black winter coat for my grey spring coat, I still had my black cashmere scarf around my neck whenever I went out. It made me feel safe, hiding my smile, hiding how happy I was to meet him.

"Hi", he said simply.

And he offered me his arm.

I stared at him. I must've looked funny then, mouth slightly parted, lips glistening, eyes large. He just smiled, anchoring me to the safety that was him.

"Go on, take it", he said. "I have already told you I love you, haven't I?"

I took Tobirama's arm, and we started walking.

My Paris looked beautiful in spring. Especially when the buds on the trees had just begun to reveal spots of green, promising a sea of green to come in a few weeks. White cherry blossoms were an echo of the snow that had come and left so quickly during winter, as if it had spared its whiteness to be poured into the flowers of spring instead, figuring we needed the comfort of flowers far more than we needed the joy of snow.

"It's strange", he said. "How all of the coincidences in life led up to this particular moment." I looked at him as I walked beside him, my chin reaching his shoulder so I had to tilt my head up slightly. "I'm so glad for all the decisions I've ever taken, Madara. They led me to you."

It was what I would take with me regarding him, throughout my life. This moment when he well and truly confessed how much he loved me.

"What about Hashirama?" I asked carefully.

Tobirama smile widened. It softened my heart. When did we become this? When did we all become so good for each other?

"I feel like we're reaching a point of no return", he said. "The three of us."

"Do you..." I looked straight ahead. "Will it ever be us three? Truly?"

"I don't think so, Madara", he said. "It's not that I don't love you enough. I just love you so much that I don't want to hurt you."

"That's an admirable quality", I said, but my heart was broken.

"I hope you still want to enjoy your time with me", he said. "That goes for you both."

"I already am", I said. "Hashirama is, too."

We went to the Louvre. We walked around looking at paintings, hand-in-hand, like a couple. We got a few funny looks and some tourists even took pictures of us. Had they never seen a huge white-haired man and a huge black-haired man together before? Then I realised we were famous and they were probably going to sell those photos to the gossip magazines. I sighed.

"I don't care." I looked at Tobirama. He was smirking, looking at a painting of a bowl of fruits that was unfathomably boring. "I don't care what they say", he repeated, squeezing my hand, reading my mind through his palm.

We kept walking slowly around the museum until we reached the cafe. I sat down, and T bought us both coffee with cream.

"I don't know how you like your coffee", he said.

"Black with whisky in it", I said and took a sip.

Tobirama smiled (he really smiled a lot nowadays), rolled up the sleeves of his fantastic grey turtleneck cardigan.

"So you say", he said. Then, his demeanour changed, became more serious. "Have you..." Tobirama took my hands, played with my rings mindlessly. "Have you noticed? About..."

I nodded. I knew he was talking about Hashirama.

"I have."

"What do you think?" he asked.

"There's definitely something going on between him and that sous chef of yours. Or rather, there has been. Not now. Hashirama can't stand him."

Tobirama took my hand to his lips, kissed it. I shivered.

"Where did you find him, anyway?" I asked. "A beach?"

"We've met from time to time at different galas and gatherings", he said. "We're not friends but always got along."

"That's huge, for being you", I teased. "You're usually not that approachable."

Even if my words were harsh, they caused me immense pride because he had been approachable to me.

"He's a very good chef. I suspect he's striving to become head chef."

I put my cup of coffee down, cupped his hands in mine, looked at him intently.

"Be careful, Tobirama", I said.

He looked right back at me, a serious expression on his face.

Oh, how I wished I'd told him more sternly.

How I wished I had grabbed his shoulders, shaken him, screamed at him to please, please be careful and then kissed him forcefully to make him understand, to make him really understand how much I needed him to be careful.

But I didn't.

I couldn't have known. 

"You relax", I said softly.

"I'm not used to this", he said, biting my ear from where he lay naked below me.

I kissed him. He was a good kisser. Especially with his tongue. His short, white hair tickled my face.

"I want to take care of you for once", I whispered into his mouth, putting a finger underneath his chin.

I let my hands roam over his arms, his chest, his hips. As opposed to me, who always wore a collections of rings, wrist bands an necklaces outside of work, Tobirama was completely bare except for his Rolex that I wouldn't take off anyway because I found it hot. I bit his neck. He leaned his head back and moaned, finally giving in to letting me top him.

"Good boy", I cooed.

He looked at me, his light eyes completely hooded over of desire. I moved so I was on my knees between his legs, placed one hand on his thighs, the other around my length, stabilising it. I put it at his opening.

"Are you okay with this?" I asked.

To my surprise, he looked away a little, grabbing my arm.

"Could you... Could you prep me first? With your fingers? I've never..."

I completely melted. Of course he hadn't. I went down with my face, took him into my mouth. He tasted of salt and skin and danger. With my finger, I loved him open while he leaned his head back, eyes closed to enhance the sensation, his hand softly in my hair.

And as I finished loving him with my fingers, I asked him for consent which was granted to me and I melted our souls together as I melted myself into him, our eyes never losing contact as I leaned over him with one hand on his beautiful face as I thrusted.

I loved him until he could take my love no longer.

But poured it out.