The thorn in his side

You wouldn't know it looking at him but Hashirama doesn't really have a problem with people. He doesn't have a problem with people as long as they stay away from him and outside of his personal space and in general don't try to approach or interact with him. And Hashirama doesn't really have a problem with children, either. As long as they stay away from him. And in fact, Hashirama doesn't have a problem with crowded, open spaces either, as long as they are not part of the same situation as Hashirama.

Hashirama doesn't like casual contact, open and crowded spaces, people, children and perhaps life in general.

But, by some strange case of fate called life and the need to refill painfully empty kitchen units, Hashirama finds himself standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle staring at a box of apple juice with his right hand in his jacket pocket clutching tightly a bottle of sanitizing gel and his left hand tightly around the cart's handle to avoid the shaking, his knuckles completely white.

The left hand will be covered in gel as soon as Madara catches up with him and Hashirama will release his grip on that piece of plastic handing the cart to Madara.

The green medical mask that covers the lower half of Hashirama's face and protects him from contact with the unhealthy air of the supermarket can not completely shield the smells and Hashirama takes short, shallow breaths through his ajar mouth; Hashirama thinks that he and Madara will have to go to the pharmacy to buy thicker masks or with a better air filtration system, at least.

The slow and regular heartbeat of his heart thrums in his ears and seems almost a contradiction to the tense position Hashirama has taken and the stiffness accumulated on his shoulders but Hashirama continues to fix the juice on the shelf right in front of him, considering how many times he will have to wash his hair as soon as they get home to eliminate all bacteria and consequently how long it will take to dry it almost completely.

Although his hair is tied up in a high tail, the tip of the tail reaches the hem of his jeans and Hashirama would really like to tie it up in a bun but the weight of all that rolled up hair will only give him a terrible headache that Hashirama doesn't want anything to do with.

A movement at the edge of his field of vision makes Hashirama notice in time the little girl who is approaching him and looking at his hair with a look that Hashirama can't completely identify and Hashirama manages to turn and put his back to all the juices accumulated on the shelves and face the little girl. The little girl stops only a few inches from Hashirama with her hands tightly around a puppet, at the mere sight of which Hashirama would like to slip himself into a washing machine, her mouth wide open and stares at him without blinking for at least a minute. Hashirama stares back at the little girl. The little girl is a tiny dirty thing who barely reaches his hip standing on her tiptoes, dressed in a blue and pink jumpsuit and rebellious blond hair.

Hashirama doesn't understand children and therefore remains motionless under the little girl's gaze. Doesn't this little girl belong to anyone? Why is there no screaming parent in the distance desperately searching for this child? Hashirama is about to leave because the child is only five inches away from him and keeps staring at him without saying a word and Hashirama needs to step away when the child exclaims "Princess-san, can I touch your hair?" Hashirama arches an eyebrow and tilts his head by a fraction because the girl's request makes absolutely no sense and, finally, a screaming parent appears at the end of the island and Hashirama is freed from the curse that is this encounter.

The parent lowers himself to take the child in his arms and because of the movement he almost touches Hashirama's jacket and Hashirama has a painfully clear vision of the fact that there will be a contact to which he has no way to be prepare or escape but fortunately, or by some divine miracle, Madara rounds the corner or the island and in a few quick steps he's at his side and avoids unwanted contact with the couple in front of them.

Madara doesn't hate people but if he could he wouldn't interact with anyone so his discontent at that moment is absolutely justified as well as the bored and at the same time poisonous look reserved for the parent and the child.

Madara's hair is left loose and between the black mask covering half his face, his dark eyes and rebellious hair he could look like the villain of some movie. The little girl doesn't seem to think the same way and stares at Madara's hair in ecstasy, stretches out a hand towards him but luckily the father takes two quick steps back. The girl exclaims "Princess-san! Can I touch your hair?" Just as the father takes a little bow, apologizes for his daughter's rudeness and walks away quickly, clearly distressed and scared.

Hashirama can relax and take the gel out of his pocket to spray it first on Madara's palm and then on his. Madara rubs his hands together to sanitize them and grumbles "What else do we need to buy? I want to get out of here, I can't take it anymore." Hashirama sprays another dose of gel on his own hands before taking his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and checking the shopping list that they have compiled the night before, he reads it back to Madara and then heads off to the next lane leaving it to Madara to push the cart; Madara follows him grumbling but without really complaining.

-

Hashirama and Madara spend another hour in the supermarket aisles looking for all the products they need and in the end Hashirama feels completely drained of all his strength; it's a feeling shared by Madara judging by the curved pose he has assumed, with his arms intertwined on the cart's handle and his forehead resting on his forearms. Hashirama is leaning on his side with his head on Madara's shoulder and is alternately staring at the phone in his hands and the cashier who doesn't seem to understand their tiredness and is chatting cheerfully, wasting a lot of time with the customer in line in front of them to pay.

"What time are you going to work tomorrow morning?" It's the mumbling that rises from the figure of Madara and Hashirama straightens his back and pushes the cart slightly further forward because luckily the line is moving; there are only three other people queuing in front of them, in less than half an hour this torture will be over. "Never. Tomorrow is Sunday." Madara sighs gratefully and replies "Oh Kami, thank you." "We have lunch with our parents tomorrow." Madara grunts then straightens his back and rubs his eyes tiredly; Hashirama fully shares his suffering. "I'd rather go to work, you know?"

Hashirama smiles slightly under his mask, shakes his head and presses his lips against Madara's shoulder through the fabric covering his mouth and Madara circles his shoulders with one arm before placing him between his chest and the shopping cart; Hashirama concentrates again on his phone reassured that no one will be able to get in touch with him now that he is in Madara's arms.

-

Finally their groceries are placed on the tape and Madara begins to put the products into the bags as soon as they are passed by the saleswoman, who is chatting freely; Madara does not participate in what is basically a monologue interrupted only by a few affirmative and astonished words and verses that Hashirama releases at the right point during the breaks in which the cashier takes a breath. She smiles, chatters, asks and smiles again and Hashirama simply passes the products to Madara who puts them in the bags and then puts the bags back in the cart.

After thanking the cashier, they head for their car in a tired and comfortable silence and both of them joyfully welcome the sound that signals the opening of the boot of their suv; Hashirama can't wait to sit down because his feet and back really hurt. With a bit of force they manage to put all the bags in the trunk and while Madara returns the trolley Hashirama washes his hands again with the gel before climbing into the driver seat and pulling out of the parking lot.

When they get home Hashirama would really like to be able to sleep curled up on the sofa but in reality it's only 15:41 and they still have to sort out the groceries, walk the dog, shower and get ready for the evening with their friends so Hashirama resigns himself to the fact that he won't rest at least until he's out of the shower. Grocery shopping has always been the biggest thorn in Hashirama's side. At least it's a thorn shared with Madara, like all other thorns of his life.