So, here's my new OS ! Translated by myself and beta readed by the lovely Angelbloodlover !

It comes from a fanart one of my readers gave me, the link is on my profile ^^

And I do not own the characters.

I hope you like it !

Never again.

That was what Madara was repeating to himself ever since he woke up that morning. Never again would he make a stupid bet with Hashirama, his best friend. He should have known it though, Hashirama would never have suggested such a humiliating bet if he wasn't sure that he would win it.

Hashirama must have cheated to win, there was no other possibilities for it, only that.

The bet was really simple. The only thing he had to do was to eat the "Big Burger" from a fast-food in town. So far, it wasn't anything impossible, except the fact that the burger in question weighed ten pounds. Even thinking about it, Madara felt nauseating. He would never enter a fast food restaurant again! Ever!

Hashirama had swallowed the entire burger without showing any difficulty and, although, they were friends since childhood, Madara would have never thought his friend could eat that much. Tobirama, Hashirama's little brother had warned him though! He had told him when Hashirama started eating, he could be a bottomless pit and swallow anything in his reach, but stubborn Madara didn't believe that, thinking that he knew his best friend.

Oh how wrong he was!

And now, he had to become a fucking cross-dresser to fulfil the stupid bet.

Ever since they were kids, Madara and Hashirama were rivals, though at the beginning of their friendship, it started through resentment. Already in kindergarten, it wasn't rare for them to say "You can't do that.". Both of them always found themselves in weird situations. When Madara was five, he had gone home, covered in paint from head to toe, after some stupid challenge. And Hashirama had sealed his pants with tape to fill it with sand from the tray of the schoolyard. When his poor mother had undressed him in the bathroom, it transformed into a self-made beach!

Thus, their parents had often tried to reason with their children, telling them that their challenges couldn't go so far because it wasn't right and that it could go significantly wrong. But the small rascals got so much fun with these challenges that their parents deemed it useless to even reason with them. When fun and logic bumped against each other, the adults had to face the facts.

Children would always choose the one where amusement was in it.

And now, twenty years later, when they were adults, the boys still continued to challenge each other. The latest bet was won by Madara, who had to bet that his rival wouldn't dare to dye his hair pink. Hashirama had used, of course, a temporary pink colouring and went to work like that. His boss had threatened to fire him if he did something so stupid once more, much to his annoyance.

So for several weeks, Hashirama had sought revenge for that foolish bet. Something capable of humiliating Madara at the highest point, and most importantly, it would make sure that he would win. He had found the perfect pawn for it. The ultimate humiliation, although it certainly would put an end to their bets.

That's why Madara was getting ready in his bathroom, thinking only about that stupid bet, dreading the moment when he had to do it. It was the last bet he would ever make with his friend. The last, mark his words!

And the reason to this was simple: Hashirama had gone too far this time.

The bun in his long black hair was not so bad for Madara. The dress however… He had forced Hashirama to wear a dress once, for a school day and everybody made fun of the brown-haired Senju. Of course, heels were a requirement for a dress, it was mere logic. But fishnet stockings, garter and makeup? No, absolutely not, this time Hashirama would pay one way or another.

Simply put, for this bet, the two men agreed that the sucker would play the maid to the other for a whole day. And the change of clothing was the most important part of the bet.

Thus, Madara found himself dressed with some kind of maid costume with a very short skirt, fishnet stockings, accompanied by a garter, especially made for the occasion. Hashirama had even embroidered the emblem of the Uchiha family on it, which was excess detail but important detail nonetheless.

Walking carefully on the shoes that Madara had borrowed from one of his friends, whom fortunately for him didn't have big feet, he advanced towards the entrance to put on the coat he had planned for that day, to hide his embarrassing clothing if even for a bit. Looking at himself in the mirror, which was placed near the door, he had to face the facts. He looked even more stupid that he had imagined. This was infuriating him to no end! Hashirama would pay for this cruel bet, he was going down.

But if there was one thing Madara wouldn't do was sulk about losing a simple bet, consequences be damned, so he pushed his head up high since he refused to admit defeat to his arch nemesis. Madara left his house and hurried into his car. At least there, behind his tinted windows, nobody would see him.

He tried to go to his friend unnoticed but unfortunately Kami wasn't always on his side. When he parked in front of the house, he saw that the front door was open and the master of the house looked at him with a smirk. Madara didn't like that kind of smile, he couldn't deny it but a bet was a bet and there was no way he would give his rival a chance to remind him all his life that he didn't have the balls to finish his side of the bet.

The look Hashirama sent him, made Madara shiver pleasantly. Why did the Senju have that sort of effect on him while he was feeling so humiliated? He was wearing a dress for Kami's sake! He was disguised as a maid, he didn't want to think about those stuff! Enough with the humiliation already…

Head low with a furious blush on his cheeks, the Uchiha entered the house without uttering a single word. He took off his jacket and hung it up on the coat hanger, feeling Hashirama look him up and down. "It's not bad, in fact…," The Senju commented, trailing off as his eyes were looking at his rival, clothed like a maid.

"Well, what do you want me to do? Hurry up, I don't have all day." Madara replied gruffly without looking at him.

Hashirama smirked smugly at him, hand on his hip, "In fact, you do. I hope you didn't forget about the bet, Madara-chan?"

Madara sighed, glancing at him with annoyance and waited until Hashirama stopped looking at him, or more specifically, ogle him to finally know what he would have to do as his …maid.

"For now, I'll have breakfast." Hashirama smiled, scratching his neck. "I just woke up and took a shower".

Without a word, Madara walked towards the kitchen, unsure with these stupid heels since he wished not to twist an ankle, and put the coffeemaker on and warm up as he started buttering some bread.

He knew his friend, he knew him by heart, he knew exactly what he liked and disliked. And even though sometimes he was still surprised at his behaviour, like when he learnt that Hashirama could eat so much, their relationship was sometimes like an elderly couple. For some reason this thought made goose bumps appear all over his body.

Stubbornly keeping his back to Hashirama, who took a seat at the bar, which separated the kitchen and the dining room, Madara had to be honest with himself. Being in these clothes so close to Hashirama made him nervous. Not because he was ashamed but because he was hiding something for many years. Something that had slowly grown inside of him, he had tried to push it away, disgusted with himself, unfortunately life was cruel at times. Finally, with the help of his little brother Izuna, he accepted that idea, no matter how disgusting it was.

He was in love with Hashirama. For over fifteen years now. At first he had only thought of their relationship as he saw it, a deep friendship tinged with a certain rivalry but for him, it was much more than that. Every time he was near Hashirama, talking, laughing, together, his heart always beat harder and every time, he hoped Hashirama wouldn't notice his most darkest secret.

Because, and it crushed him to even think about it, Hashirama was straight. He loved them with all his heart and his current relationship with Uzumaki Mito, a lovely young woman with lots of temperament, would certainly lead to a successful marriage. The agonizing, crushing pain that Madara had felt when his friend showed him the engagement ring he intended to give to the young woman, especially when he announced that he would do marry her quickly, hurt him so much, he almost fell in a depression. Of course, Madara didn't blame the woman, she had nothing to do with all of this. These feelings she had developed towards Hashirama were normal, along with her boyfriend' sexuality but the fact stayed the same, it hurt.

Ever since then Madara had decided to choose the most heart-breaking but necessary choice. He would never speak of his feelings to his friend. Ever. Hashirama would never know about them. Madara would attend his wedding as best man for the unfortunate ceremony. But for his best friend he would force a smile, congratulate the bride and the groom, be nice and fake his happiness for all of them. It would be perfect this way, he wouldn't hurt his friend's feelings, although on the inside he was literally dying. He knew how Hashirama loved Mito, he couldn't break that couple just because he had a one-sided love going on for so many years.

Hearing Hashirama clear his throat behind him, Madara snapped out of his thoughts and added a cup of coffee on the tray, orange juice, toast with butter and everything Hashirama loved, which he brought to him, glancing at his friend who was beginning his breakfast.

How could he just stand there when he saw the man he loved with that smile, tucking his hair behind his ear to prevent it from getting it dipped in his bowl as he crunched heartily on his first buttered bread?

"Are you feeling alright, Madara?" Hashirama suddenly asked, worried for his friend's wellbeing. "You look weird."

Madara replied quickly with the half-truth, not wanting his friend to notice something amiss, "This… disguise is making me sick, that's all" Shrugging his shoulders, he continued. "I'd rather be naked."

"Oh, no, please don't, I don't want to see that!" Hashirama joked, laughing heartily.

Despite his fake smile, Madara felt his chest tighten deeply and looked away while the other continued his meal with great enthusiasm. He had a feeling the day would be long if it started like this.

When he finished his meal, Hashirama took a few seconds to think about the next events before telling his friend to do the dishes, specially kept for that day for him. Madara went to work, perched on his high heels, his lower back already aching and disturbed by the fresh air caressing his muscled legs.

"You know," Hashirama began, "looking at your legs, you almost look like a girl from that view. I didn't know you were that thin?"

Madara sighed, rolling his eyes at that stupid comment. "You saw me naked enough times to know."

"But the heels are…" Hashirama said, trailing off. "Take them off if you don't like them."

Madara grunted in irritation. "Later…"

Madara didn't need something more to understand that his friend would make the most of this day. After all, Hashirama had always sought the most humiliating bets to get revenge for everything that Madara had thrown to him and he had absolutely found the right one with this disgraceful disguise. And with that last things he had done to Hashirama, he didn't refrain himself from humiliating Madara deeply.

After the dishes, Hashirama made his friend prepare a bucket of water with some detergent and then proceed to give him a small brush before indicating to the tiled entrance hallway. At the beginning, Madara thought his friend was joking, he wasn't going to kneel and clean the floor, right?

Oh, how wrong he was! Especially the way Hashirama glanced at him showed him that he was not joking and that he had to do it. Of course, Madara complied, sighing in annoyance and trying not to think about his skirt rising up on his butt.

Damn you, Hashirama…

"A thong would have been better, don't you think?" Hashirama commented, laughing. "Your trunks doesn't match with the dress."

Madara glared at the floor, rubbing it harder and harder, "Don't be like that."

"Your ass isn't so bad that way." Hashirama joked again, voice laced with humour.

Madara knew his friend spoke just for fun, to humiliate him more than he already was but that position made him think about something else, and it wasn't really chaste, in contrary.

Because despite being in love with his friend, Madara had preferred …to test his sexual preferences. He had found it repulsive at first and he feared the pain that came with it as he thought that his attraction was inhumane at first. No one except his brother knew he preferred men and to avoid suspicions, he went out with several women. If there was something Madara refused, it was to be considered as a fag, only good to suck cocks, and for this specific reason, he didn't do his coming-out yet. Only Izuna knew and it was just better this way, he thought in the safety of his mind. Even if he was always bothered on being asked when he would introduce a girl to his family and friends, whether he intended to get married one day, and if he ever thought about having children.

He had to admit, his first time with another man was amazing. Very painful at the beginning, that, he couldn't deny but all in all, it felt good, no, amazing.

His partner was a little older than him, whom he had met on the internet. Madara was at that time seventeen and he had already slept with several girls but the way he felt when he was with that man, the intensity of his caresses, the soft kisses, the man's muscled, toned body grinding against him only strengthened his likings.

Yes, he was gay.

Yes, he liked men and had even enjoyed sleeping with them. Although it wasn't with Hashirama, much to his dismay.

At the beginning, Madara had asked to be on top. To be the man. This term made his partner laugh a lot but he understood that Madara wasn't really fine with his sexuality at that moment and had agreed to be the one being screwed, for this time.

It wasn't so different as with a girl, Madara thought. It was even more enjoyable and frankly, he would have asked to do it again if he had not been so scared afterwards. Because during their conversations, on the internet, Madara had made the mistake to ask about being initiated to such practices, to be the one below. He was sick to the core when he had read on the internet that it could be very painful.

The pornographic films didn't reassure him and he had asked himself many times if it would be like that. Without lube, without feelings.

But his partner was perfect. His name was Nagato and Madara would never forget his name, even though they had agreed to never meet again.

At first, Nagato, seeing perfectly that the young man was literally shaking on the bed, took his time to reassure him, explain him how it would happen and most importantly, that he wouldn't urge him. If Madara was in pain, if something was wrong, Nagato would stop and would ensure that everything would go well.

Thus, at the beginning, he only kissed him. He joked about the fact Madara was a good kisser and could do it for hours straight, which made Madara blush profusely but made him also more comfortable. Slowly on, he relaxed enough to let Nagato prepare him for the final act. He took all his time, used a large portion of the lube bottle he had brought for that occasion and had applied it to please the younger one pressing his prostate gently. Then, Madara had discovered a new pleasure.

The one of being on the bottom.

Penetration, back then, was painful, agonizingly so. As much as Madara had imagined the pain to be but Nagato really was gentle, kissing his shoulders blades softly because he had positioned Madara on the belly, his butt up with the help of a little cushion. The sex in general was disturbing and unpleasant to say the least, and Madara had vowed to never do it again, until one night, he had fantasized too much about Hashirama.

That night was like a revelation. Oh, he loved it, despite the apparent disgust he had felt when he had to put his fingers …in there. Thankfully, the pleasure had taken him over, numbing the disgust he felt towards himself.

Izuna, his poor little brother, had sworn himself never to speak about the quiet whispers and rough panting he heard that night. Madara knew what that meant. His little brother was even more embarrassed then himself.

Later, when Madara moved in his own house, he didn't have to restrain himself anymore and it was an euphemism to say the least. And when the frustration was too much to handle, when he didn't bear any longer to see his love and his desires away from him, he used everything he could to forget his weakness. Even if, at night, he felt better, the next day, he always felt pitiful.

Thus, being in this position in front of Hashirama, Madara felt a smothering hotness inside of him. Burning, and he would give everything to see Hashirama put off his trunks and just take him right away but that would never happen. Hashirama was just reading the mail that had just arrived, fortunately for him though, otherwise he would surely have noticed the constricted erection, which Madara hoped that he would never have to see.

But unabated, Madara continued scrubbed the ground, always trying to turn his back to Hashirama, the skirt was not practical to hide an erection. Then, while the floor was drying, Hashirama allowed his friend to take a break in the kitchen and drink a glass of water.

"Are you warm?" the Senju asked, not far away from him.

Madara shrugged, turning away and congratulating himself on having put a new boxer. It had the advantage of not having been weakened by the washing machine and was hiding his erection brilliantly. But he would also have to get rid of it, and for that, he had a rather unpleasant but effective trick. So he apologized to his friend telling him he needed to go to the bathroom and went to the first floor where he splashed some fresh water on his face, removing his make-up and a little lower, to weaken his hard-on.

Oh, he would love to get rid of his erection in another way but that was just not possible, you can't let the impossible become the impossible. If it took too long, Hashirama would come and see what he was doing and if he saw Madara masturbating in his bathroom, friends or not, he would surely be shocked and probably disgusted.

When he came down, holding on to the handrails because of his really uncomfortable heels, Hashirama called him from the living-room and proudly handed him a feather duster, those that could only be seen in porn movies.

With an irritated sigh, Madara started his new activity, dusting all the objects, which Hashirama had lots of them. He liked wooden carvings so much that he exposed his art in his living room and gave some to whoever wanted one. On the fireplace, for example, there were two fox sculptures and several photo-frames. In the middle, there was the very same photo Madara had in his bedside table, a picture of the two men when they were children, laughing happily and their eyes sparkling with happiness.

Madara had laughed so much about his friend's bowl cup back when they were around the ten years old. And dear Kami all those lame clothes that Hashirama had! Madara was always well dressed but Hashirama had tried many different styles, allying perfectly with his changing personality.

The other pictures were more the general ones; family photos, for the most part, and, even if, Madara tried not to look at it every time he came here, there was a picture where Hashirama was holding Mito in his arms. But, as he was preparing himself to dust it, Madara frowned in confusion when he saw that it wasn't there anymore.

Weird…

So he looked over his shoulder, to see Hashirama typing something on his phone and comfortably lying on his couch. "That picture with Mito isn't there anymore?" He asked loudly, making sure that his friend heard him since he looked focused.

"I put that away." Hashirama mumbled without looking at him, eyes fixed on that damned phone.

"Really?" Madara wondered aloud, wondering what was up with that.

Hashirama nodded, forcing a smile on his face when he looked at his friend, "Yeah, I'll put another one, later"

"Hashi …is everything fine with you and Mito?" Madara asked seriously, concerned for his best friend's feelings.

His eyes sparkled with some emotions, which Madara couldn't identify perfectly, and Hashirama shook his head, "Everything is fine." looking at his friend before resume reading his phone again.

Madara stood there, sceptical, with a raised eye brow. Hashirama never hesitated to talk to him when he had problems. About Mito or anything else. But this time, he didn't, Madara saw it in his eyes and it hurt him. Why couldn't his best friend tell him what was wrong? Wasn't he important to him?

Well, he knew the heart-broken Hashirama, he saw him so many times in the past when he had been dumped and he couldn't bear to see his friend in pain but it was nothing like the way Hashirama acted at the moment. Hashirama wasn't sad or distraught. A little distant, maybe, but it wasn't surprising. He just wanted to spend time with his fiancé.

Madara couldn't help but think about himself. It wasn't polite, but he couldn't fight it off. What if Hashirama discovered his true nature? And the feelings he had towards him? What if …his friend was disgusted about the way he was? Hesitantly, Madara glanced over his shoulder but Hashirama seemed normal. He was just reading something on his phone.

Maybe he was making all this up? Or maybe he was right and Hashirama just waited for the right time to tell him to go away? A last humiliation before telling him he didn't want to see him again.

This thought made Madara's heart twist in an ugly shade of purple. He never thought about their bets as something degrading. It was always friendly and the two of them always complied to honour them without complain. Even this time, while Madara was dressed as a French maid, he didn't think of himself as stupid. He just lost a bet and he had to do it. But …what if Hashirama wanted to punish him for what he was? Just to mock him and reduce him as trash before abandoning him completely?

"Madara…?" Hashirama called loudly. His friend's call made Madara sick to the core but he glanced at the Senju, over his shoulder, just to see him take a picture of himself, dusting the room as he smiled like the devil. "For my personal file." the Senju added, his eyes glinting wickedly as his lips curled upwards.

Impassive, Madara resumed his task and sighed as a headache was threatening to explode his mind. If Hashirama wanted to humiliate him, he would never show him how much it hurts him. It wasn't in his personality to show his true feelings and he was sure Hashirama never saw him cry. Heck, even his own brother, Izuna, never saw him cry and although he felt his heart being crushed and squeezed slowly until there was no drop of blood left, he would never show his weakness to the Senju.

Certainly not so if said man only saw him as pure amusement.

With a heavy heart, he pushed back all his feelings, frowning unhappily. He had done that during all these years, ignoring his feelings towards his friend, avoiding himself to suffer even more than necessary. He wouldn't change it this time either. He wasn't like that and if Hashirama decided that his preferences towards men bothered him, it wasn't that bad either, in fact.

It only meant that the Senju wasn't a good friend.

After the dusting, Hashirama made him order the books on the shelves, alphabetically, and Madara never had thought that he had he had so many books. Several times, he had to start over again.

Afterwards, Hashirama made him go upstairs. Hashirama's bedroom was quite unique and very calming to the heart. Like a cocoon, where one could rest without any trouble, and Madara, who had slept in here various times on this bed knew how comfortable it was. And every time he woke up, he had the same thought. If it was possible, he would stay in this place where he felt so tranquil, like a carefree cloud.

Hashirama had prepared a fresh set of sheets to make the bed up and Madara had to concentrate hard to ignore all the horny thoughts he had swirling inside his head. Then, he had to tidy those magazines Hashirama left on his bedside table, about gardening since Hashirama was impassioned with gardens, bonsai trees in particular.

And then, Hashirama did the only thing Madara couldn't bear. He lied down on his bed, his arms behind his head with his lips parted as he sighed in bliss. That picture of his friend was perfect. And very much attractive to his black eyes. Madara even forget about those thoughts he had earlier, about Hashirama playing with him. He was just looking at one of his real-life fantasy, one who was lying there, not knowing about all the perverse thoughts flying in Madara's mind. Moreover, the Uchiha loved Hashirama's slightly dark-toned skin as his shirt went up, revealing his chiselled chest, where he could trial his fingers over his flexing and twitching abs.

It was, to say the least, suffocating.

"Like what you see?" Hashirama asked with a devious smirk.

If he wasn't sure that Hashirama was totally heterosexual, Madara would have understood this comment in a different way. Or rather in accordance with his tendencies but he knew his friend was engaged with Mito and Madara would be the first to know if the engagement was broken. Or the second, just after Tobirama, Hashirama's little brother.

Resuming his arrangement, he tried not to think about it. Madara followed his order to go and start the washing machine, which Hashirama already prepared it for him and went to the Senju's bedroom once more, said man still didn't move an inch from his comfortable position.

"What should I do now?" Madara asked coldly, a hand on his hip.

Hashirama smiled softly, rubbing his eyes, "Come and lie down for a couple of minutes." Adding, "And take off your shoes."

Madara rolled his eyes as he was wondering where this torture would lead him to but felt so much better when he took off these damned shoes and climbed on the bed without uttering another word.

First, he stayed on his back, in the same position as Hashirama but he was starting to feel unease. This bed wasn't a friend's bed anymore but a nearly wed couple's. A couple, that word left a bitter taste in his mouth and even if he just changed the sheets, the situation still didn't please him.

So he turned on the side, his back to Hashirama and glanced at something shining on the bedside table. He didn't saw it earlier, when he was tidying so he thought Hashirama maybe put it there but, narrowing his eyes, he recognized Mito's engagement ring. A simple white gold ring mounted with a little diamond, which Mito never put off and showed to everyone.

"Mito forgot her ring this morning?" Madara mumbled quietly, closing his eyes.

Hashirama sighed behind him, gloomily, and straightened himself, legs crossed, supporting himself on his hands. What he was about to say to his friend was hard, for him, he didn't even know how he would react but he had to do it. Because it was the right thing to do.

"She …gave it back to me," Hashirama whispered softly.

Madara's eyes widened as saucers and exclaimed loudly, "What?!"

Madara straightened quickly, staring at his friend as if he couldn't believe what he had just said.

Hashirama shrugged uncaringly and in impassive. "She gave it back," He repeated uncaringly. "And we cancelled the engagement last month."

"But …why?" Madara asked, not understanding the situation at all, his pounding returned with vengeance.

Hashirama looked down, shrugging once more at Madara evident shock. His friend turned away from him and stood up, took his shoes and approached the bedroom door.

"You could have told me." He said, clearly upset, "I thought I was your friend?"

"I'm telling you right now," Hashirama replied with a smile.

Madara spat out in anger, red clouding his vision, "I'm sure everybody already knows by now."

"…That's true. But I couldn't tell you before. Not with what I had heard."

Madara froze on the spot. What Hashirama just heard? He knew it! He knew about his sexuality, even about his fucking feelings and to Madara, it was clear. He'd kill his brother in cold blood, torture him and gouge out his eyes. Izuna was the only one who knew about his most darkest secret and he could be the only one who told it to his best friend.

There was a ghost in his throat, his mouth contorted by the bitter taste of treason. Madara was about to open the door but Hashirama pushed the door with his steady hand, standing behind him.

"Why didn't you tell me, Madara?" He asked softly, his voice stuttering a bit, "During all those years…"

Madara replied without looking at him, finding the door much more interesting than his ex-best friend, "Izuna told you, right?" Continuing with venom in his mouth, "He's going to hear about that…"

Hashirama smiled tenderly, "In fact, it was my brother. But yes, Izuna told him."

"Let me go." Madara demanded icily, his voice sending a shiver up Hashirama's spine, never in his life did he hear his friend talk in that voice.

But even if Hashirama's heart started drumming faster with each seconds, even if he started sweating so much, he could fill the bath tub with it, he would budge, no, he had to say it, he had to spill out his heart towards his friend, his best friend, "Are you that ashamed of yourself? So ashamed you went out with girls to let people think you're straight?"

Madara bit his lower lip, his hands trembling as is stomach churned unpleasantly, making him feel sick but Hashirama still didn't let him go, demanding answers, answers that even he despised.

"You should have told me. I would have understood, you know…" The Senju said, trailing off as he bit his under lip from the nervousness he was starting to feel.

Madara chuckled humourlessly, answering softly, "No, you wouldn't."

"Of course I would! Did you ever hear me joke about gay people? Do you think so bad of me…?" Hashirama protested in anger, a displeased frown marring his handsome face.

"No, you couldn't…" Madara whispered the same sentence again, his hands clenched tightly.

Hashirama sighed tiredly, "Then why didn't you tell me…? You're ashamed of it, is that it?"

"…Yes, I am," was Madara's cold reply.

Hashirama sighed again, feeling a migraine popping up his head. He hated himself for not knowing that his best friend was suffering for so many years. At first, when Tobirama told him about it, he didn't believe it. He knew Madara, he would never hide something that important from him! Well, that was what he thought but Tobirama insisted and Hashirama had to call Izuna, for the younger Uchiha to confirm it who told me that, yes, Madara, in fact, was gay. He loved men and it wasn't something recently. When he had asked why Madara never told him, why he was hiding his true personality, the answer was rather simple. Madara hated himself for being like that, for having those shameful likings.

Making use of his friend's apathy, Madara tried to open the door, wanting nothing but to leave this house but, once again, Hashirama stopped him and Madara turned to face him, his eyes flickering red from the raw anger he felt at the moment. Wasn't he humiliated enough…?!

Damn him.

"Open the door!" he spat furiously, not caring that his friend flinched slightly.

"Not before you tell me why…" Hashirama said softly, not budging a bit, he was used to his friend's anger but this was slightly getting out of hand.

"I like cocks! Isn't it enough…?"

Hashirama yelled back, starting to lose his temper, "Fuck, Madara! Why on earth did you hide something so important from me?! I thought I was your friend, no, your best friend?"

"Don't complicate the situation as it is now…" Madara mumbled annoyed and wanting nothing more than to leave this godforsaken room.

But Hashirama wasn't going to let his friend go, for good, he had to say it. "What's wrong? Do you thing I'd be disgusted to know the truth? That I'd ignore you because of it?"

"And you, why didn't you tell me about you and Mito?" Madara counterattacked, wanting revenge for the fact that it's almost a month later that he heard about this change of event.

Hashirama sighed again, the pounding in his head was starting to burst his eardrums. "Because I wanted to be sure about something."

Not knowing what Hashirama was spewing about, Madara rolled his eyes, shaking his head but Hashirama saw the hurt gleam in his dark eyes and his head sagged down, his shoulders hunched. "Tell me why you never talked about it…" Hashirama asked stubbornly.

"Don't." Madara said, refusing to answer that simple answer because he was afraid of it himself, afraid of the consequences.

"I'm not letting you go! Tell me! Now!"

"No." Madara spat out, his stubborn dark pools never leaving the ground, which interested him more than his screaming friend.

"Madara-" "I'm in love with you!" Madara cried out in anger, interrupting him as tears collected in his eyes since he knew that this would be the end of their long friendship. "Are you happy now…?"

Furious, Madara thought that Hashirama would chock from the disgust or even angry at the fact that Madara longed for him but, shockingly, he was doing nothing of those, in contrary, the Senju was smiling lightly, a small dimple visible on his left cheek and Madara knew that look well. It was that cramped smile, fit for a female teenager that Hashirama always got when he was put in an embarrassed situation. Not because he was feeling unease but because he just heard something he liked. Something he really liked. Exactly like that unfortunate day that he told Madara the good news about him and Mito getting married.

This time, it was different. Right now, Madara didn't know why Hashirama was having that smile. Was he mocking him?

But when Hashirama came closer towards him, looking down shyly, and then proceed to give him a kiss on the lips, in all simplicity, well, to say that Madara was shocked from disbelief was the understatement of the year.

Madara's eyes widened when he felt Hashirama's lips on his. It was something he had often imagined, something that made him fantasize for long but his imagination was far from the truth. It was even more soft as it was intense and he felt his heart beat faster in his chest, threatening to burst out his ribcage. And his surprise amplified even more when he sensed Hashirama's hands on his shoulders, pushing his back against the door.

Madara dropped the heels from the sheer surprise and dramatic change of event while he glanced at his shy friend.

Here they were, their lips just a few inches apart and Hashirama's gaze on him was perfect. His eyes half closed, in a tender expression and his hair falling on his shoulders, like a waterfall.

"Don't toy with me." Madara whispered, frowning. He couldn't bear the thought that his friend was merely playing with his feelings, things were hard as they were already. "Don't."

Hashirama laughed tenderly but genuinely and kissed him one more time, more passionately, and this time, Madara dared to take part of the kiss. One of his hands slid over his friend's neck and he grabbed his shirt with the other and drew him against himself. Hashirama gasped softly, without trying to escape the intimate kiss. On the contrary, they even deepened the kiss, their tongue meeting each other and Madara realized something important.

No, Hashirama wasn't toying with him, he didn't want to leave him, he didn't mock him and wouldn't fight him off. He was there, against him, like in his wildest dreams he had every single night, and he was kissing him as if his life depended on it, like if his feelings were two-sided.

At this thought, Madara opened his eyes and made Hashirama take a step back as he stared at him but above all, he tried to ignore his hard-on as Hashirama asked in concern, "Is there something wrong?"

"Y-you aren't gay. Not even bisexual and yet…" Madara sighed, the confusion killing him.

"Indeed." Hashirama nodded in agreement, flexing his fingers as he looked down at them. This felt so unreal and yet reality was right in front of him, in the form of his best friend, whom he had just fucking kissed.

"So why are you doing this?"

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two for a few minutes and Hashirama's lips parted and closed, looking like a stupid, gaping fish in the open dry, not knowing how to answer that question. He knew exactly what to say, in his mind, he had prepared himself for this but somehow, his mouth betrayed him and the words were stuck in his throat. His confession.

Madara reacted quickly and turned away, once more trying to escape. He wanted to get away, he had to protect himself and his, already, vulnerable heart. He knew that kind of disappointment would be hurtful, shredding his heart in thousandth pieces, he knew it, and he didn't want to hear Hashirama telling him his feelings weren't returned or something he did for pity. That would be even worse.

But, once again, Hashirama stopped him, grabbing his hand and forced Madara to face him, his cheeks blushing furiously and his eyes not daring to look at him.

"Don't ask too much from me…" the Senju whispered shyly, "I'm …I'm already struggling to get used to this idea."

"What idea?" Madara asked slyly, his heart beating violently as sweat poured down his face.

Hashirama sucked in a deep breath and answered truthfully, "The idea that …I like you more than Mito or …or any other woman."

Before Madara could answer and tease him one more time, Hashirama kissed him again, and this time, he dared to lean against his friend, his …boyfriend? He wasn't sure what to call him anymore… And their chest touched as he held him, Madara's hair tickling him.

Madara's silky mane cascaded over his shoulders and Hashirama didn't wait to slide his fingers in it, loving the soft touch. If there was one think Hashirama was jealous about, it would be Madara's fabulous hair and he remembered that day where they made a bet about it. The first one who would cut his hair would lose the game.

Feeling uneasy at first to learn these things, Madara slowly on released him in his embrace and put his hands on the Senju's hips, grabbing them with lust. Their pelvises touched, enough time for them to dawn on their respective hard-on, even if Hashirama's was quite shy about it.

Blushing and feeling rather uncomfortable, Hashirama stepped back without looking up as Madara tilted his head to the side, a sly smirk plastered on his face.

"Your body doesn't seem to care." His friend commented easily.

"Madara, don't…" Hashirama implored, wanting some time to digest this weird situation. "Let me…"

Hashirama's eyes widened when Madara tried to reach his trousers and hurriedly he stepped away, terribly embarrassed, until he tumbled clumsily on the bed. Madara laughed softly, amused by his friend's reaction and took place on the bed, legs spread apart and totally at ease as he sported a large smile on his face

Because Hashirama didn't want to abandon him, he wanted to stay. He wasn't disgusted with his true feelings, he didn't hate him for it, he didn't want him to go away. Hashirama was just completely lost like he used to be when he discovered that he was gay and for this reason, Hashirama didn't say a word until sooner. But their kiss was all he ever wanted in his life and now he hoped to get more than a simple kiss since Hashirama seemed to be attracted by him. And his whole body made him aware of that.

But, seeing that Hashirama didn't know what to do, Madara straightened himself slowly, crossing his legs. "Something wrong?" He asked in amusement, wondering what was up with Hashirama's disbelieving frown.

"I-I never saw you smile like that…" Hashirama stated, glancing at him "It's rather …disturbing."

Madara tried to be more like his friend knew him and for a while Hashirama smiled widely since he never imagined that his friend could look so happy. Madara was always serious and introvert with his feelings, bluntly cold without any form of shyness. But this smile was perfect on his face and right then and there Hashirama knew his choice was the good one.

"And you could close your legs, you know…" Hashirama said, blushing.

Madara's smile turned into a smirk, teasing his uncomfortable friend, "I've got nothing to hide."

"Go on, take off those clothes, I'll let you wear something more comfortable."

Nodding unnoticeably, Madara pulled down the zipper on the back as Hashirama searched in his closet for comfortable sweatpants and a simple white shirt. The Senju couldn't help but blush when he saw Madara in his underwear on his bed. But Madara didn't make any comment on it and dressed quickly before looking at him again.

"You owe me an explanation." Madara said, without blinking as he folded his arms over his impressive toned chest.

Hashirama nodded softly, "I know, I…" Slowly, Hashirama turned to his friend, his legs folded on his side as he sighed. "A couple of weeks ago, Tobirama came to me and told me the truth. Afterwards, your brother confirmed my doubts about you and your likings and related everything to me, including your hidden feelings for me." Hashirama explained in one breath, looking at his friend.

The Uchiha turned his gaze away, feeling weird that they could speak of this so sincerely, especially when Hashirama placed his hand on Madara's kneel, reassuring him in his own way.

"And it made me think. Lots of thinking. About what I wanted, about my relationship with people, and …about you. When I talked about it with Mito, to get her real opinion, she just said that …she was happy for me, she wanted me to find my true feelings and that I shouldn't wait any longer to confess my feelings towards you." Hashirama breathed out, wondering how he could have spoken so much in one breath. Maybe he was just that good.

"Your …feelings? You…" Madara asked, feeling rather uncertain by this situation.

Hashirama stuttered, cheeks blushing profusely, "I-I don't think I'm ready to …say it but our kisses made me think…"

"Do you think you're …gay then?" Madara questioned curiously.

Hashirama nodded hesitantly, "I think I am …well, I like you, hell, I'd even like you if you would have been a man or a woman. So I don't mind the fact that you're …a man."

Moved by the effort Hashirama just did for him, Madara felt his cheeks blush softly and he came closer to Hashirama to kiss him gently, pouring his feelings in the kiss since he didn't dare to touch the confused man.

To Hashirama, Madara was the first man he had ever kissed. He never thought something like this would happen, nor that he would love it. But once again reality was sitting opposite of him, his best friend's lips on his with his face so close to him that he could feel the hot breath caressing him. It was so exciting, so new, that he couldn't even think about kissing another person. And then, he thought about Madara and what he had felt during all these time, frustration, jealousy, hate, disgust… He must have suffered so much because of him, because of all this and he hated himself for not being aware of it sooner. But now, everything was right, wasn't it? They were a …couple, this fact made him blush hard.

Of course, Madara didn't miss his reaction and pinched him on the cheek as Hashirama straightened his back, smiling with discomfort but he only wanted another kiss. Kisses after kisses, they soon found themselves lying on the bed, Hashirama straddling his friend's hips.

Heat was rising, which they couldn't ignore and even if the Senju didn't know what he wanted, or if he wanted this to continue, the fact remained the same that his friend liked him and that he was currently eying him intently, between the kisses. Even if Madara's hands on his butt made him uncomfortable, even if they were now both conscious of their respective hard-on.

"I can take care of it." Madara whispered with lust, the intensity of his eyes made Hashirama light-headed.

"Y-you do…?" the Senju replied, not looking at him.

Madara nodded slightly, being serious about, "Only if you want it, that is."

Hashirama bit on his lips, gazing at Madara and then nodded slowly, trying to stay calm as he let Madara made him lie on his back. He thought about his soft touch, loving the kisses that he was getting but he couldn't stop the bubble of panic when he felt Madara parting his legs. "N-no, Madara, I-I can't do this." Hashirama rushed.

"You can think it's not me doing it or…" Madara said softly, trying to calm him.

Hashirama shook his head, trying to explain to him, "N-no, you don't understand. Tobirama gave me some lube but I can't…"

Seeing Hashirama's evident panic, Madara laughed heartily as he stroked his thighs and shook his head. "Do you really think I'd do that to you? On the first day?" Madara asked softly, wondering what his friend was actually thinking about.

"I don't want to feel pain." Hashirama replied.

"You'll need some training for that." Madara said, kissing him again.

Hashirama whispered softly between the kisses, "A-and you? You ever…?"

"I did. In both positions." Madara replied truthfully. "And …which one do you prefer?" the Senju asked shyly.

"Undress me and I'll tell you."

Hashirama was starting to calm down a little. He had already seen Madara naked, many times before and for some strange reason it comforted him. At least, this way, he'd be on familiar ground. So, the two of them were in his bedroom, lying next to each other and Madara didn't seem to be insistent. He let him do whatever he wanted, without turning his gaze away and Hashirama loved that gaze. Full of tenderness, love and kindness.

First, he took off Madara's shirt then he placed his trembling hands on the Uchiha's zipper, unbuttoning it and then opened the trousers. Madara took his hand to place it on his hard-on, which was starting to be painful, throbbing merciless and begging to be released from this pain.

Disturbed at the first touch, Hashirama soon appraised its shape, its contours, under his friend's trunks and allowed Madara to guide his actions until Hashirama felt him shudder from pleasure.

There, Madara made Hashirama lie down again and undressed him completely without bashfulness and Hashirama cleared his throat, trying not to look at it.

"S-so, what do you prefer…?" He stuttered, repeating the same question from before now that Madara was undressed. "I must say that I like to be on …the bottom," Madara confessed sincerely.

"In that case, I don't mind going further!" Hashirama exclaimed on that opportunity.

"You don't mind or you want that…?" Madara asked coldly, not even batting his eyes.

The way Madara wanted to clarify what he had just said surprised Hashirama. It wasn't in his character to do so but his demand was legitimate. He understood Madara's needed precision.

"I'd like to try it out. And you must have waited so much time…" Hashirama nodded, hoping that that was a good enough answer for him.

"I can still wait until you're ready. It's not a problem." Madara affirmed quietly.

Hashirama interrupted him, "Madara, I-I really want it." Taking another deep intake of breath, he continued, "And I know that you don't really want to wait with…"

His last word lost itself in a weird silence and Madara couldn't help but laugh as he kissed the Senju on the cheek. "But if you really want it, I won't restrain myself." Madara muttered. "

What should I do…?" Hashirama asked with hesitation, finding the entire situation weird.

Without waiting much longer, Madara made him lie down, once again, kissing him as placed Hashirama's hands on his butt, ignoring the way the Senju froze a bit, and he left his delicious lips to nibble the skin of his neck until he finally heard what he was waiting for. Hashirama moaned softly and right then and there Madara realized that it wasn't a dream, that everything was real.

Supported on his knees, Madara then unbuttoned his friend's shirt, slowly enough for Hashirama not to panic again until he could take it off, and discovered that Hashirama's muscular torso, his naturally tanned skin as sweet as he imagined it to be, if not, more so.

But the moment he was going to take his trousers off, Hashirama stopped him with sweaty hands and looked him in the eyes. "N-not now," he whispered in fear.

At first, he thought Madara would take it badly but the Uchiha just nodded, kissed him again and let him push him on his back until the Senju was lying on Madara's stomach, between his thighs. The position bothered Hashirama a bit since he wasn't used to the fact that he had a man below him. Hell, he couldn't even think about the bump he felt but when he felt Madara fondle his back, his shoulders, his neck, Hashirama couldn't even remember what his name was.

All this was too good to be true and he didn't even know about it during all these time.

With a slow motion, Madara surrounded Hashirama's hips with his legs and rubbed his hard-on on Hashirama's, who moaned at that, his forehead on Madara's and his face distorted by all the pleasure he was feeling. It was weird but stirring at the same moment to feel such so much lust and that only triggered by a person he always considered a friend until this very moment. Now, Hashirama wanted more. So much more.

When he allowed one of Madara's hands sneak between them, Hashirama opened his eyes slowly, glancing at Madara as the Uchiha slipped his hands under his trousers, in his trunks as he started to stroke his throbbing member gently.

Once again, Hashirama felt uneasy, because it was difficult for him to consider Madara as a lover and not a friend anymore but he couldn't deny his feelings. What he was living at this moment pleased him to no end and he would never exchange this situation, even for all the gold in the world, even Mito, whom he had loved dearly for all these years, never had such an impact on him and he had to face the facts, Tobirama had read him like an open book.

His whole body shuddered and Hashirama moaned again as Madara continued masturbating him.

"You tell me if you don't like it." Madara said, amused.

"N-no, it's-" But Hashirama was interrupted by a whine when he was starting to feel dizzy.

Madara allowed himself to laugh about his friend's antics since he was so happy to see the effects of his touch on his so long crush.

Then Hashirama, feeling like he had to do something too, placed soft kisses on Madara's neck, on his collarbones, which he clearly loved, and licked Madara's skin, over his breastbone. Madara shivered fiercely when Hashirama grabbed his hips, closing his eyes as he waited for the next movement. Hashirama told him he wanted it, that he didn't do it just because he had to and that was the only thing that mattered for Madara. Knowing that the man he loved for so long desired him, meant the world to him.

When Hashirama's lips moved over his belly, trailing ghost kisses on them, Madara sighed from pleasure, and the Senju looked up, with a smile, just to notice that Madara had never seemed so happy before, before. Feeling like he needed some comfort, Hashirama asked another kiss from his lover and nearly jumped up when Madara's hands slid on his back until he could put them on his butt.

With another playful smile, Madara made them roll vice versa until he kneeled between the Senju's thighs. "Where did you store that lube?" He asked quietly, not wanting to break that loving silence.

"In the closet, behind the socks." Hashirama answered with a blush.

Madara nodded, thrilled at the thought that he would be doing this after dreaming about it for all those years, musing that it will happen at last and stood up to search in the closet and found said lube. Then, he re-joined his lover, throwing it to Hashirama, who, hesitantly, straightened himself.

"Undress, now." Madara asked, crawling next his friend.

Hashirama, blushing, lowered his pants, slowly, then his boxer short while Madara was doing the same and the men observed each other for a long time, in a weird silence, until Madara lied down, pulling Hashirama against him and proceed to kiss him with lust.

Embarrassed by their nudity but really horny, thinking what was going to happen, Hashirama let himself relax, placing a hand on Madara's thigh and folded up against his hips, pushing him gently to pour some lube on his hand. He told Hashirama to prepare him for the penetration but the Senju froze, understanding what he had to do.

"Don't worry" Madara said with a soft voice, trying to calm him down. "It's not so different than with a woman, you know."

"B-but …I-I…" Hashirama stuttered again, pale as a ghost.

The Uchiha looked at him, whispering reassuringly, "I can do it for this time, if you prefer…"

Hashirama nodded quickly and Madara, a little disappointed, retrieved the lube to prepare himself, without turning away his gaze.

"Touch yourself." he whispered with a groan.

Getting out of his thoughts, Hashirama grabbed his erected manhood and looked at Madara as he bit his lower lip, wondering how Madara could be so hot in such a weird moment. Since years, Madara always remained calm, cold, even with his friends and, in that moment, he was panting, his free hand twisting the sheets with lust, all his body covered with a layer of sweat.

When suddenly Madara stopped himself, quickly drying his hand on the shirt his friend gave him.

Hashirama cleared his throat, asking a question that was bothering him. "Do we use a condom?"

"Of course," Madara nodded seriously.

The Senju quickly took one from his bedside table, ignoring Madara's smirk and put it on before looking back at him. The Uchiha then positioned himself on the side, one leg up and drawn to Hashirama, grabbing his wrist.

When he was once again starting to feel sick, Hashirama sensed his discomfort fade at Madara's contact and enjoyed the tender kiss he received from his skilled lover while Madara was guiding him to his entrance, to finally have a feel of him.

Sensing himself so close to everything he feared, Hashirama took upon himself to not to step back and chewed on his lips as he plunged his member inside of Madara. Not because he was disgusted, like he once thought he would be, not even because he didn't like it. On the contrary, he was feeling Madara tensing below him, from pleasure obviously. And his hard-on never weakened and that thought kind of cheered him up. So he started to draw back slowly, to, once again, thrust inside of him and enjoyed the way Madara moaned, pushing his cheek butts open, encouraging Hashirama to continue.

"I'm not made of sugar," he said annoyed. "Harder…"

Hashirama nodded, his hand on Madara's hair as he twisted them around his fingers. the Uchiha groaned when he felt the Senju rub his sensible prostate and started to gain confidence.

This was a thing Hashirama never understood. How could a man take pleasure from down there? He was raised in pure heterosexual traditions and was known that that entrance was either shaming or unclean. Proof was, he was enjoying going back and forth inside of Madara's rectum. It had certainly something to do with Madara's loud moans and harsh pants and he couldn't think that Madara was faking it, in fact, he was enjoying it. And then, when he had been told that Madara was gay and in love with him, well, Hashirama felt incredibly appeased. As if all those years he had spent worrying for his friend's love life, had just disappeared in a whim since he was reassured that he would be the one to make Madara happy. Sure, he had a hard time accepting it and tried to ignore it but his feelings for the Uchiha were above a simple friendship.

This was pure love.

While he was making love with him, Hashirama knew it. Madara, the way he was, his delicate smile, his indecent body, Hashirama loved all of him and this specific thinking made him nearly come. As he placed his forehead on Madara's shoulder, his arms wrapped around him, their two hands intertwined on the bed, everything else disappeared and he felt Madara come. The Uchiha trembled a bit, tightened on his manhood and then groaned with ecstasy and Hashirama was disappointed since he didn't see him ejaculate like he was used to. His sperm slowly flowed on the clean sheets, without a squirt, without the usual firework but the way Madara was panting made him understand that it was fine this way, that there were no problems.

Seeing his lover didn't come, Madara made him withdraw and lied him down comfortably on the bed as he took off his condom to stroke him with mischief, playing with his Hashirama's pulsating member until Hashirama reached his climax. And when that was done, with a satisfied smile, Madara accepted the kiss Hashirama gave him and lied down next to his lover, head on his shoulder.

The Senju stayed there, eyes closed a long moment as he pushed away all his heterosexual habits, his apprehensions, his doubts and ran one hand through Madara's hair, fondling the nape of his neck tenderly.

Without re-opening his eyes, Hashirama placed his head against Madara's, nuzzling his hair, with lots of questions in mind but he wanted to make the most of it. Even if the future was looking unsettling, even if he didn't know if this life would suit him, he wanted to try it out. Because he was sure that it was worth it.

"Say, Hashi, you …don't regret it, do you?" Madara asked after a couple of minutes.

"No, I don't." Hashirama answered truthfully.

The Uchiha couldn't help but question him, "And you liked it…?"

"Yes. Were you afraid I would leave you?"

Madara didn't answer, pushing away all his fears and turned on his belly to glance at Hashirama, who was still caressing his neck, with a pleased look. "We …won't talk about it, will we…?" Madara whispered uneasily.

"Not now, at least."

"Izuna and Tobirama knew that …I would confess my feelings to you and even kiss you. They helped me to organize this day, the bet included, so I could have a day with you alone." Hashirama informed him, blushing.

"You could have just ask me to come here, you know?" Madara groaned in frustration, frowning as he thought about that ridiculous maid outfit.

Hashirama answered him quickly, not wanting him to be angry, "I tried to but I didn't have the courage to do it…"

"Did you really eat a burger that big?"

The Senju laughed loudly, his chest rumbling loudly as the sound vibrated through Madara. "That was perfectly genuine. I'm just a hog."

Madara smiled, his eyelids heavy on his eyes as Hashirama kissed him on the forehead.

"But, if that's what you want, we won't tell a thing to the rest. But …keep the maid disguise." Hashirama said with a sly smirk. "You looked good with it."

Light-hearted, with a sly look, Madara shook his head, laughing as Hashirama proceed to kiss him once more. And Madara hoped, with all his heart, that they would stay like this. Forever.

Fin