Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto…
Author's Note: More HashiMada fluff/sad fic. This is basically more tribute to my favorite pairing, because there is still not enough love for this pairing for my liking.
The Only One
It is said that love and hate are not so far away from each other. That true hate is just love that has gone bitter or been misplaced.
And that may very well be true.
Because like true love…
The sounds of crashing waves in the distance, and the feel of salty wind through his hair brings the Uchiha from his trace like state. He looks out over the open ocean and watches the last rays of light floating lazily on the horizon. The waves are foaming against the rim of the beach.
Ah, this place.
Madara closes his eyes and digs his feet into the cool sand, letting it nest between his toes and around the soles of his feet. He takes a deep breath and leans back onto the palms of his hands, rolling his shoulders with a satisfying pop.
…If it weren't for that damn conservationist, Madara probably never would have set foot on these sands.
He opens his eyes again and looks in the direction of the tide pools, wearily assessing the lone figure standing calf deep near the water's edge, with his long, blackish brown hair flowing beautifully over his bear shoulders. The man off in the distance notices the Uchiha's gape upon him and waves to him with a gentle smile.
Madara scoffs and sharply turns his head in the other direction, away from the man's kind gaze. He misses the way the man's smile widens and eyes crease in silent laughter.
Madara hates the man for being so kind-hearted.
That man is nothing like the people Madara grew up around, and the personality clash distresses him. But this is mostly because he doesn't know how to coop with the man's way of thinking.
Madara's hair and skin smell heavily of crude oil and iron, black locks matted with days of neglect and strenuously heated temperatures. Not even his clothes had escaped the onslaught, littered with rips and black stains as they were.
Stress driven flesh and blood, working day in and day out on the ocean-going oil rigs no more than forty miles from the chores the company's young heir was. That's what Madara knew. But here he was, watching as the very man who apposed his family's corporation worked on collecting trash from the sea chore.
It is rather ironic.
For years, he and Hashirama had been at odds with one another…
Even going so far as to aquire hired hands to sabotage the other's building projects and resources.
They were enemies and yet they were the very fixation that kept the other going, made all the struggle and hardship worth wile. It was because neither was willing to back down once they had established their cause.
It was because they were both so stubborn.
Madara's eyes narrow ominously as he turns to sneak a quick glance at the other man, wondering vaguely what it was that makes a man with such potential give it all up for the sake of such folly.
World peace and prosperity is a dream…
Madara blinks in surprise when he finds the man in question missing from his place in the water, his muscles immediately becoming rigid and still. He casts a wide stare over the ocean shore and silently curses when he doesn't find him.
"Senju!" Madara bellows when he is suddenly grabbed from behind and pulled into the warmth of another's arms.
He struggles at first, hissing every curse imaginable before he finally starts to calm and goes still in the other's hold. When Madara's insults eventually stop falling from his lips, he feels a chin resting lazily on his head, much to his discomfort.
"You're like a child sometimes, Madara." The elder man comments, and Madara feels his blood begin to boil. "Are you always so defensive?"
"Says the man who believes I'll ever feel anything for him." The way Hashirama tenses for the briefest of moments did not go missed by Madara. He inwardly smirks at his victory, casting a condescending glance over his shoulder. "Kidnapping and dragging me out here to the middle of nowhere will not change that, Senju." He adds arrogantly, smirking smugly as he feels Hashirama's hands tighten on him.
Then with a recovery as smooth as silk. "Yet you allow me to hold you like this, Madara. You, who have never been touched so intimately in your life before this."
Madara turns his defiant glare on the Senju, pushing away and all but snarling at the other man, as would a cornered, ferial animal. "Bastard. Its not like I have a choice…"
He is cut off abruptly as Hashirama pounces on him, trying to pin him down to the sand.
They struggle and fight to hold the other down, locking arms and kicking out to better their position. But in the end, when Hashirama manages to pin both Madara's shoulders to the sand, Madara stops struggling and glares up at the elder man, seething.
There is silence as they stare challengingly into the other's eyes.
"If you take me for a virgin, then you are gravely mistaken, Senju." Madara says at last, raising an eyebrow up at the man. "Did you expect that I'd save myself for you." He is dead serious as he says this, not a hint of mockery evident in his voice.
Hashirama blinks slowly, staring down at the other with an expression just as unfeeling as Madara's. He shifts positions above the other man, and leans down beside his ear. "Sex does not equal intimacy. You of all people should know this." Light smile. "And I…" He forces his fingers to intertwine with Madara's. "Am the only one who can make you feel this way."
Madara feels the indignant need to tell the man off, to tell him that he is wrong and that he feels nothing for him. But instead, he goes completely lax under the other's weight, and turns his gaze away. There is no point to continue lying on the matter…
When his heart is beating so hard he knows Hashirama can feel it.
"I hate you." Madara says after a long silence. "I hate you." He repeats, bitter and calm. He feels the agonizing heat in his belly tighten.
Madara remains silent as Hashirama slips off of him; coming to lie beside him quietly, before pulling him into a tight embrace. He can feel the elder man's lips brushing lightly into his coarse hair, breathing in his scent.
"Than hate me, Madara." He whispers into the oily black locks. "Hate me with everything you are. I ask neither for your trust nor your love. Just please…" Hashirama turns Madara in his arms to face him, to look deeply into his eyes. "Don't ever stop feeling this way."
Madara casts one glance over his shoulder and his eyes close, tired and defeated.
In a voice so quiet, Hashirama never hears it, and very likely, never shall. "As long as it's you, I never will."
Only that one person can make you feel that way.
HashiMada sad fluff. What more needs to be said? T_T