Doubt

19.

Hashirama:

The proposal came two years later.

We were out on a lake canoeing, just the two of us, Madara in front of me, looking out on the beautiful mountains ahead of us. I was trembling with anticipation, with nerves.

This is it, I thought. It happens here.

I put my oar to the side and slid to the seat just behind him and put my arms around him, one leg of either side of his light body. I kissed his cheek, his curtain of hair, now reaching his shoulders, coming in the way between my lips and his skin.

"Hashi!" he laughed. "You're not supposed to switch places in a boat!"

"Madara..." I said, and he instantly heard the gravity in my voice. He turned and looked at me, eyes huge.

"No..." he said, shock on his face.

I pulled out a navy blue velvet box and opened it, revealing a broad platinum band with a small white diamond that I had thought would suit him perfectly. "Would you do me the honour-?" My voice thickened up, became hard to muster so the second part came out in a whisper: "-of becoming my husband?"

Madara just stared as I threaded the ring on his finger. It looked so right there. So. Right. Tears welled up in his eyes.

He stood up, threw his arms around me so we flew out of the little canoe and into the water.

We resurfaced, kissed and cried.

"Yes!" Madara screamed. "Yes, motherfucker!"

God, I was in love with his energy. 

The wedding was held one year after that, in a beautiful forest. The rain was heavy, creating a magical scenery.

I stood in the front of the aisle created on the forest floor, the deep green surrounding me matched by the deep green shirt I wore under my dark grey suit. I had washed and oiled my hair to perfection, wanting to look its best for my soon-to-be husband. I swallowed. I was so, so nervous. I knew I was going to see something extraordinary.

"Hashirama..." Madara had said tentatively one evening when we sat in bed with a notebook between us, trying to plan a wedding for us.

Madara was adorable, loving the process of wedding-planning, being excited about everything. He never became stressed over it; he just radiated a genuine excitement for it all. When I asked him how he could be so excited when he'd done this once already, he just looked at me as if I were dumb. "But I haven't done it with you, have I?" My heart had melted at that.

But now, he as looking at me with huge, questioning eyes.

"What, sweetheart?

"I would..." He looked down, looking insecure for the first time in the wedding planning. I felt my nerves tingle.

"Spill it out, lovely."

He looked at me dead-pan. "I would like to wear a dress."

Whatever I had expected, it wasn't this. "You'd... Like to wear a dress?"

He nodded earnestly. "I'm so tired of suits. And... I don't want to bring my last wedding up, but it didn't feel right. Me in a suit on my wedding day didn't feel right."

I remembered the Madara I'd known from university, who'd always painted his nails, worn makeup, that donned feminine clothes sometimes. This Madara, who wore a suit for work each day, was still the true Madara, but that other part of him had been put on the shelf. The thought of that Madara coming forth again from time to time made me smile. Or smirk, really.

"Hashi..?"

"I think that's the loveliest idea you've had for the wedding so far."

Madara threw his arms around me.

But despite knowing about the dress, nothing could have prepared me for this.

Out behind a tree he came, wearing the most gorgeous cream-colored creation I'd seen.

It was so skillfully tailored, bringing out the masculinity within him while enhancing his feminine sides. He had cut his hair to that outgrown short length and wore his glasses, which complemented the dress fantastically. When he got closer, I could se he had lipgloss and smokey eyes. He bore no flowers ("I still want to be a groom, not a bride!" "Madara, with all due respect, darling, you're going to wear a dress."), and no jewelry. I don't remember this, but saw it on the films later on; that when I had seen him I had sunken down to my knees, hiding my face in my hands. My groomsman, Madara's friend Hanna's husband that I'd bonded with, had put a hand on my shoulder. I don't remember Madara pulling his hand out and helping me up, but I saw that on the video as well. I struggled looking him into his eyes because I just kept bursting into tears, and I could see Madara was crying too as we stood, hand in hand, in front of the altar, as we were claimed husbands.

It was followed by the wildest afterparty of our dreams, full of stars and candles and and love, so much love. The rain kept pouring, and when everyone were busy dancing, I pulled Madara with me to the sea outside the venue where the party was held, and danced with him in the storm on the beach, just the two of us, in the dark, under the stars.

"Fuck, you look gorgeous in that dress."

"You don't think it's dumb?"

I took his hand and kissed it, admiring the plain platinum wedding band that had taken place above his engagement ring, matched by the golden band on my finger. "Not the slightest. Please, Madara, when we go on dates, fell free to wear whatever you want."

He smiled happily, leaning his chin on my cheek.

And we kept dancing in the storm.

Just us two.