Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“If you fight someone over and over enough, you stop being able to tell if it’s a battle or a date.” - Goodnight, I Did Not Give That Spider Superhuman Intelligence! by Richard Roberts.

The first time Cu met him, it was in a school yard, and he was the girl in the red jacket’s Servant. The second time was when Archer betrayed his master, traded her for Caster, and Cu took his own initiative. That was when he decided he hated the Archer in red, for the way he so callously betrayed his Master, for his pessimistic view on what it meant to be a hero, for the way he dared to survive Gae Bolg’s thrust. He stood there in that crater, bleeding and half dead, and Cu would have finished him off if his absence wouldn’t have been noticed, if that order to retreat if someone survived Gae Bolg’s thrust wasn’t still in place. So he left him there, alone and wrecked. If Cu never met him again, it would be too soon.

He wasn’t that lucky, of course.

Over and over again, memories upon memories. It felt like every Holy Grail War he participated in, Archer was there. He shouldn’t remember him or any of the times they met and fought, but he did. The tan skin, the white hair, the grey eyes that looked amber in the right light. Time after time again they met on the battlefield, and it wasn’t just the Wars from this world, he caught flashes of other worlds too, other lives where they fought each other or fought on the same side. Beyond Archer, everything was hazy, every memory he shouldn’t have was indistinct, but whenever Archer was there, things became clearer, as if they were cut into crystal. He remembered countless battles, Gae Bolg versus Archer’s twin blades, growling at each other over crossed weapons, sparks spitting into the air and lighting up the night. He remembered odder things too, a restaurant, a volleyball game, an outfit different then his own where his enemies disappeared into pixels when he smote them. He remembered countless instances where they fought, their fights always ending with no definite victor, either one or the other dying or their fight being interrupted before their ideals could be proven through the clash of blades and the spray of blood.

It was galling, because part of Cu knew that it would not end until one of them showed a true victory. It was his own fault, really, Gae Bolg, the fate altering spear, had struck without finding it’s target. They were linked now, tied by fate, and it would only end when Gae Bolg finally pierced Archer’s heart. After that, they would go their separate ways, and he would finally be freed from the Archer in red.

But time is a tricky thing, and so is fate, and so are hearts. A dozen instances, a dozen Wars where the only recognizable thing was each other. Is it any wonder things changed?

He knew when it started, when his hate for Archer began to peter out into a simple desire to defeat him. They were fighting, as always, and then suddenly they were seen. A child, wandering the park at night, eyes wide, cheeks hollow with hunger. Cu’s Master ordered him to retreat. Archer’s Master ordered him to strike. 

Cu remembered that night clearly. He remembered the way Archer’s fingers had tightened around his blades. He remembered how Archer’s face had gone shadowed, his eyes closed, his mouth clenched. He remembered how stiff Archer’s shoulders had been, how his Master had screamed and ordered and how Archer had refused to move. He remembered how Archer’s Master had fired off that command seal, the red searing the dark of the night. He remembered the pain in Archer’s eyes, he remembered him moving sluggishly, fighting with all his will against the order.

Cu remembered the child, frozen in fear, so small, so scared.

Cu remembered thinking that he would have done it, he would have mourned the unnecessary death, but he would have done it. He’d done it before.

Cu remembered thinking that it was admirable that Archer fought so hard to save that child's life.

Cu remembered thinking that it was nice to see that there was truly something heroic in the Archer that had so callously betrayed his previous Master.

Cu remembered that split second decision he made, the rush of air as he turned his retreat into an attack, the widening of Archer’s Master’s eyes as Gae Bolg rushed towards his face. Then Archer’s sudden appearance in front of him, blades crossed, stopping Cu’s thrust, his grey eyes hard. 

Cu remembered thinking that there was a thanks in those grey eyes.

He remembered thinking Archer owed him.

He remembered that the child escaped.

After that, things eased between them. Oh, they still argued, but the hate mellowed into something softer. Cu had found a reason to see Archer as a hero. Archer had seen that sometimes Cu was willing to disobey his orders to save lives. In that briefest moment, they connected, even if their battle hadn’t finished. And so time passed, War after War after War after War. Soon, Cu stopped dreading their interactions and started delighting in them. If there was anything he could count on Archer for, it was being able to stand toe to toe with him in a fight. But their battle still didn’t end, always interrupted or one of them dying before it could. It was galling.

If anyone was going to end Archer, it was Cu Chulainn, if only to free them both from their fate of circling around and around each other like two mangy dogs over an old bone.

Chapter Text

It was broad daylight, sure an abandoned park, but still broad daylight. So the sound of a battle was startling, because fights were too easy to see with the sun in the sky, they were too easy to stumble upon. Cu stopped, and in an instant, he was in his battle gear, Gae Bolg in his hands as he went to investigate. It was Archer, of course it was, his dual blades resting in his hands, his red coat shifting with every movement, his hair as spiky and white as ever. And he looked to be having trouble. He was wrapped up in chains, dark black and purple ones, and every time he would break one, a new one would appear to take its place. He was clearly straining, the cords in his neck bulging, his teeth gritted and his eyes narrowed.

Cu felt anger surge through him, a burning river of fire that lit his blood lust like a candle. “Back off lady! This one's mine!” He lunged forwards, spear hurtling towards the woman at the other edge of the clearing. She raised one eyebrow, waved one spiked hand, and a shield formed before her. His spear hit, the shield cracked, her amber eyes widened, in a flash she was gone. Cu was left in the clearing, alone, with Archer.

He turned, and watched his rival from more than a dozen lives as he recovered from the woman’s, probably Caster, attack. Archer glared at him from where the chains were dissolving into smoke. There was blood smeared over one cheekbone and his grey eyes were hard, like flint. Small cuts littered his armor, his coat’s edges were ragged as if it had been spattered with acid. “This one’s mine?” There was anger in that voice, and his tone, as always, was dry and sarcastic.

“Yeah, well,” Cu slung his spear over his shoulders, looped his wrists over it lazily, “this has gone on long enough.”

Archer’s eyes narrowed, the wind played with his stiff white hair. For a second, Cu wondered what he would look like with it down, without all the hair gel. “This?” Archer asked, the faintest trace of confusion touching his voice.

Cu gestured the best he could between the two of them. “This, always fighting, never coming to a conclusion. I figure it's past time we have a proper match without anyone interrupting us. Therefore,” he grinned, all white teeth, his sharp canines on full display. “you’re mine. I ain’t going to let anyone kill you until I get to.”

Archer held his twin blades tighter, shifted his stance slightly. There was a darkness in his face, anger, disgust, perhaps something else. It was hard to tell with Archer, he always seemed angry when Cu was around. Occasionally, though, Cu could swear that he saw something else in Archer’s face that wasn’t his normal black mood. He was always looking now, just in case there really was something beyond the dislike. “How very pretentious of you. Unfortunately, I have to agree. I am tired of seeing your ugly face in every fucking Grail War I’m summoned to. So let’s end this, now.”

Cu held up one hand, inwardly bristling at the ‘ugly face’ comment. He wasn’t ugly! Not by a long shot! “Hold your horses, Archer. this is hardly the place or the time. We’ll have to wait until nightfall.”

Archer didn’t move. “So leave.”

Cu barked a laugh, unlooped his wrists, spun his staff, leaned on it, and grinned sharply at Archer. His voice had taken a cheery tone, almost playful, but there was steel there. “And risk Caster snatching my prize?”

“I’m not your-”

“Hell no. I ain't leaving your side until night falls. I’m going where you're going.” 

Archer’s guard dropped along with his jaw. “You are not.”

“I am too.” 

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“And what,” Archer spat, fuming, “Would your Master say about this?”

Cu scratched his hair, “I don’t see why she’d be angry. I’m still going to end up killing you, and this way, I might get Caster too. Win win situation.” He dismissed Gae Bolg and his armor, then in a flash he was by Archer’s side, his arm dropped over the other man’s shoulders. Archer had always been taller than him, not by much, but it had always felt like a personal loss. Not any more, now, he had his fight in his sights and he wasn’t letting go for anything. He looked into Archer’s grey eyes, and smirked. “What’s the matter, Archer? Afraid of spending your day with me?”

Archer scowled, his brows drawn together in a furrow. “Like hell I am. Fine. Until nightfall, we’ll stick together. But until then, I choose where we go. Understood?”

Cu grinned, delighted. Finally, things would end between them. “Perfectly.”

“Good,” Archer growled, shoving Cu off him, his armor dissolving to be replaced by black jeans and a black, button up shirt. The look suited him, but Cu felt like a splash of color would do him a little bit of good. “Come on.”

Cu wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but a grocery store wasn’t it. “What is this?” He hissed at Archer, aghast.

Archer raised one single eyebrow. “What? Is the great Cu Chulainn scared of a little shopping?”

Cu sputtered. “I am not! I’m just surprised, that’s all. Why are you shopping anyway? Don’t tell me your Master sent you to do this. Running errands isn’t what Heroic Spirits are for! I think even you would agree with that!”

Archer studiously ignored him and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, scanning the list. “I’ll have to get the refridgerables another day. Come on.” He started forwards, pushed open the doors, and strode into the grocery store. For a few seconds, Cu just stood in shock. Archer was shopping for his Master! Actually shopping for his Master! But then he realized his prey was getting away, and he lunged forwards into the store.

He fell into step beside Archer, hands shoved deep into his pockets, eyes scanning everywhere for that Caster lady. What had she looked like again? Long black hair, black dress, pointed ears, yellow eyes, spikes through her hands. But then again, that didn’t mean much, she could be wearing a glamour. He felt wary, unnerved, there were too many sights, too many smells, too many threats. Any one of these people could have been Caster, or another servant, and not everyone was willing to abide by the rules of the Holy Grail War. It made him on edge, ready for an attack, and this crowded store suddenly seemed to be filled with enemies. Archer, however, seemed to relax slightly the minute he transitioned from street to store. He moved with confidence, glancing around at deals and bargains, lifting cans to read their labels and compare their contents and price. He seemed almost at home there, and somehow, his ease settled Cu’s nerves. 

“How long are we going to be in here?” Cu asked, leaning over Archer’s shoulder to see the label he was reading. He only caught a glimpse of the label before Archer stepped away from him, glaring at him reproachfully.

“As long as we need to be.”

“And after that?”

“And after that I will be taking these to my Master, I certainly can’t carry them around all day.” He paused, tilted his head. “I might as well get the refridgerables then.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill him?” Cu watched Archer’s face carefully, the tuck of his mouth, the tilt of his chin, the shadow in his eyes. Most of the anger and disgust from earlier seemed to have washed away, leaving only an echo. Archer seemed more comfortable here than on the battlefield, as if this was the environment he preferred.

“Hardly,” Archer stated, setting his selection in his cart and continuing down the aisle. “After all, If you kill my Master, you won’t get your fight with me. Besides, you’ll be dead after tonight.”
Cu scowled faintly, indignation bubbling up. “That's an awful lot of assumptions, Archer. May I remind you who has the class advantage here?”

Archer snorted, not even looking at him. “Hasn’t helped you in the past, won’t help you now.”

Cu stepped up behind Archer, breathed into his ear, “Oh, Archer, you’ll find out just exactly how strong I am in a few hours.” He grinned, moved away, leaning against the cart, staring at Archer with faintly glowing eyes. “But seriously, how long is this going to take? I’m getting bored.”

Archer turned to look at him, glared with those grey eyes of his. Was that a hit of red on the tips of his ears? Or was it just the light? “Well, be patient. I’m certain the famed Cu Chulainn can think up something to entertain himself while I shop.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and Cu gritted his teeth and growled right back at him.

He may no longer hate Archer the way he used to, but by Lugh, that man knew how to get under his skin.

Archer made him carry half the groceries. Cu almost argued, after all, they weren’t his groceries, but one look from Archer made his arguments turn to dust in his throat. It was odd, because Cu liked arguing with Archer, liked the back and forth, the bickering, the trade of insults, it was almost as good as battle. But, this time, Archer’s eyes had been flat, they held none of the normal sparking anger, just flat and cold. So Cu had silently gathered half the groceries in his arms and followed Archer out the store.

The day was bright and clear, the sunlight shining on the people who walked the streets. The sidewalk was crowded, the roads filled with cars, the city was a busy place, full of life and light. Cu walked close to Archer’s heels, far enough away he wouldn’t step on him, but close enough the other man couldn’t make a break for it. Neither of them spoke, no bickering, no casual conversation, just silence. It was obvious why. They had been in Grail War after Grail War after Grail War, but never in a situation like this. Archer was willingly leading Cu towards his Master’s house after running errands with both of them loaded down with groceries. All while Caster was running around, probably hunting them down right now. 

It was a first, for the both of them.

Archer stopped outside a well off house, turned to stare at Lancer. His face was blank, his grey eyes inscrutable. The sunlight made his skin seem warmer and tinged his hair with gold. He looked, Cu suddenly realized, at home there, standing outside a wrought iron fence in his jeans and button up shirt, as if he fit. He wore these clothes better then his armor, and Cu couldn’t imagine why.

When he was young, he had traded a long life for a famous and short one. He didn’t regret that decision. But Archer, Archer couldn’t be much older than him, and he looked like he was cast from the mold of this modern world, not like a hero, just an ordinary man. What had changed? Why had he become a hero? How had he lost himself? Cu realized, despite countless battles across time and worlds, he knew next to nothing about Archer. He didn’t even know the man’s real name. 

And just like that, Cu found himself hungering to know Archer, not just to defeat him.

“You,” Archer said, his voice flat, “will stay here, I’m not letting you inside. I will be back in a little bit for the rest of the groceries.”

Cu leaned against the gate, stared out at the street and the sidewalk and the people. It was the time of day where the sunlight gilded everything with it’s light, turned the greens to gold and touched everything with it’s radiance. With a sudden pang, he thought of Ireland, how the whole world would look like some kind of ethereal painting when the light hit it just right. How had his homeland changed with the centuries? 

What would Archer think of it?

“Fine with me,” Cu said, tilting his head towards the sun. He felt the warmth strike his face and sink under his skin. “You go do what you need to do.” His words were mellow, and for the moment, he was calm, just content to bask in the sun’s warmth. He would fill his body with its energy in preparation for tonight.

Archer made a “hmm” sound, and then there was a click of the latch, the squeal of hinges, the sound of footsteps, and then nothing. Cu opened one eye lazily, he could see Archer walk up the path, he could see the door open and the face that peaked out of the gap. A kid’s face, young and scared, staring at Lancer with wide eyes. Archer’s demeanor shifted, his shoulders softening, and Cu could imagine his voice going gentle and warm. But Cu couldn’t hear anything beyond the gate.

Was the kid Archer’s Master? Or one of the kid’s parent’s the Master? Or perhaps an older sibling? Either way, it was a well constructed Barrier, one designed to keep sound inside, perfect for mage work.

Cu thought of the kid from that one Holy Grail War. He thought of Archer’s reluctance to strike, and felt a pang of pity for the other Servant, a pang of sorrow for the kid. So young, younger than that high school student, too young for a Holy Grail War. Cu had been young when his adventures had started, but this was a different time, a different age, and kids were expected to be different things. Not warriors, just kids.

Archer came back, silently took Cu’s bags, walked back into the house, and closed the door behind him. Cu waited, one minute, two, three, four. It felt like forever, but he was content to sit there, waiting, soaking in the sun. Sometimes, a hunter had to be patient, and this battle would be worth the wait. 

Finally, Archer came back, and for a few seconds, the two stared at each other. The stiffness had returned to his shoulders, there was a solemnness in his eyes, a trace of sorrow. Cu wanted to do something, to wash that look away. Hell, even Archer’s hatred was better than the melancholy that graced his features now. Finally, Cu asked, “Where to next?”

Something in Archer shifted, the line of his shoulders, the shadow in his eyes, the tilt in his mouth. He relaxed, just slightly, as he understood the implications of Cu’s question. Cu was not going to ask, and Archer would not have to talk about it. Archer turned, and for the briefest second, the light caught his eyes and they flashed amber like honey, then he was heading down the street and the moment was gone. “This way, I’ve got a place I’ve been meaning to try out. It’s food is supposed to be good.”

Actually food, how novel. Cu remembered suddenly that Archer could cook, the day when he had dragged the reluctant man into a restaurant to fill in for the missing chef springing into his mind. Relief hit him, he knew something about Archer at least, a silly, unimportant detail, but it was something. “Delightful, do you know if they have any beer?”

And suddenly Archer’s relaxed posture stiffened, and he let out an aggrieved sigh. “Like most restaurants it probably does. Please don’t drink too much. I would hate to win on a fluke.” His voice was very dry.

Cu grinned, wide and sharp. “Oh come on, I could probably out drink you, and I could definitely beat you while drunk.”

“Uh huh.”

“What the hell is that dismissive tone for? I totally could!”

“Sure you could.”

Cu growled, low and long, and Archer looked at him over his shoulder, smirking, one eyebrow raised. “Are you coming, or not?”

With a muttered oath, Cu caught up to Archer.

They got an outdoor table, Cu ordered salmon and beer, Archer ordered some kind of dish that looked much, much fancier than his own. They ate in silence, Cu gulping down his food and guzzling his beer while Archer worked through his own meal at a steadier pace. The sun was starting to set now, and the sky was awash with oranges and reds and golds. The light suited Archer, tracing his features and making his eyes seem softer, warmer. Cu kept catching himself staring, although he wasn’t the only one. Their waitress seemed to be fascinated by them both, there almost too often, asking if they wanted refills every time one of them took a sip of their drink.

“So,” Cu said, setting his fork down onto his empty plate and staring at Archer, chin on his fist, “What’s your professional opinion?”

Archer narrowed his eyes, but with a good meal, the buzz of alcohol in Cu’s blood, and the sun painting it’s colors across Archer’s skin, the glare really didn’t have an effect on its target. At least, not its intended effect. “It’s good.”

“Is it Archer level?” Cu asked.

Archer scowled faintly, he looked at the plate, his ears red. His hair was still spiky, and Cu had the sudden impulse to ruffle it, just to see if it would fall out of it’s gelled form. What would it feel like? Soft? Silky? Both? “There are a few things I would have done differently,” Archer admitted, “but not much.”

“Hmm,” Cu played with the condensation on the side of his glass, watching Archer from between his lashes. “You know, I’ve never tasted your cooking.”

Archer frowned. “So?”

“I know you can cook,” Cu continued, “I’ve just never had the chance to sample your wares.” He laughed softly, almost bitterly, “I don’t even know your real name.”

Archer jerked his head up, stared at him, still frowning. “Why does that matter?”

Cu shrugged, “How long have we known each other, Archer? How many Holy Grail Wars? And yet, I know almost nothing about you except the fact that you cook, and now the fact that you will do chores for your master.”

Archer was still staring at him, Cu could feel his gaze on his face. “Are you drunk?”

Cu jerked his head up, insulted. “Please! I’ve only had two glasses of beer! That is not near enough to get me drunk.”

“Are you sure? You’re being awful philosophical.”

“You don’t think I think?” Cu yelped.

Archer’s eyes widened slightly, “No, shit, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant that you don’t normally talk like this. You mostly throw out insults or innuendos or something, not, not this.” He sighed, rubbed his hands over his face. “It just surprised me, that’s all.”

Cu snorted, loudly. “I’m not just a pretty face, a spectacular body, and an amazing fighter. I have hidden depths you know.” He turned away from Archer, stared out into the street and the people walking by. The sky was redder now, lighting up buildings and making glass flash like fire. Cu placed his cheek on his hand to watch it. He felt . . . slow, a little bit lazy, a bit fuzzy, and it wasn’t the drink. Something . . . something was -

“You glow, you know.”

Cu’s head jerked around, his train of thought disappearing. “What?”

Archer was staring at the drink in his hands, fingers playing with the side of the glass. Part of his face was bathed in light, the other side cast into shadow. Like his swords, yin and yang. “You glow, in the sunlight, as if it's drawn to you or something. It’s not very noticeable, but it’s there.” He jerked his arm up, took a swallow of his drink, set it down again. “Fuck, I don’t know why I said that.”

Cu stared at him, the curve of his mouth, the line of his cheek bone, the cut of his jaw. Finally, he shrugged, summoning a smile from somewhere. “It’s a child of light thing. Come one, it’s getting time, and you’re getting soppy.”

Archer’s head jerked up, their eyes met. “I am not!”

“You are too.”

“Well,” Archer sputtered, standing up sharply, “I’m not the only one.” He made to move, stumbled, and Cu leapt automatically to catch him. For a few dizzying seconds, the world swam as they held onto each other for stability, fingers grasping each other's arms, hearts pounding too loud. Cu caught a whiff of Archer’s scent, something that smelled like baked goods and cinnamon. It wasn’t what he was expecting, too nice, too enticing. How had he not noticed it before? He’d been this close while fighting Archer plenty of times, but only now did the other man’s scent hit him. He let go hurriedly, took a few, shuffling steps back. They stared at each other, eyes wide, panting hard. 

“Are you okay?” Cu managed, not exactly sure what possessed him to ask that question. His head was still swimming. It wasn’t the drink, he could hold his drink. What was it? What was it? What was -

Archer straightened, his face going blank, but he couldn’t hide everything. This time it wasn’t just his ears that were red, it was his whole face. “I’m fine,” He growled, looking away, “come on, it’s time to pay.”

They made their way back to the park in silence. The sun was almost down now, the shadows stretched across the road. Cu stayed close to Archer, just in case he bolted, just in case whatever happened at the restaurant happened again. But nothing happened, just two heroic spirits walking towards an abandoned park for duel to the death.

They found themselves in the clearing from earlier. The scars from the previous battle littered the ground, the sky above a brilliant, bloody, sunset. In a flash Archer was in his armor, his blades in his hands. Cu followed suit, he sent a grin Archer’s way, wide and ferocious. “Are you ready?”

Archer stared at him, the corner of his lip twitched. “Are you?” He moved, fast, too fast, it didn’t matter, Cu was already moving.

It was the same dance, performed over and over again. By this time, they knew each other's fighting styles so well they could predict each other's moves. They fought differently, Cu was all feral energy and battle lust, while Archer was cold and calculating, like it was some kind of equation he had to solve. But it didn’t matter, because by now they had long since passed being Cu and Archer, and were closer to being CuandArcher, their styles blending and mixing, picking up tricks to use on the other. There! That kick, it was his. There! That twist, it belonged to Archer. They flowed around each other, two forces of nature, Gae Bolg striking while Archer’s twin blades ducked and weaved. Shard’s from Archer’s blades shot through the air before dissolving into blue sparks. Cu’s attacks left great gouges in the ground. They met in the middle briefly, Cu could feel his wild smile, his wide red eyes, he knew they glowed, the battle lust brimming and spilling over. Archer’s face was no longer stoic, his eyebrows were drawn together, his teeth gritted, the reflection of the sparks caused by their clashing weapons played in his eyes. 

They separated, gasping for breath. Cu had a cut on his cheek, his blood sticking to his face. Archer had a shallow gash along his side, a line of red where his clothes had ripped. Cu’s head felt dizzy, his lungs hurt with each breath he took. He adjusted his grip, his hands sliding across Gae Bolg’s length. “This is nice,” He said cheerfully, “How long has it been since I’ve had you to myself?”

“Too long, apparently” Archer shot back, he held out one open palm, his black blade reformed to land in it. “Because you’re being sloppy. How many blades have you broken? Only twenty? If I didn’t know better, I would say you were drawing this out.”

“If I am, I’m not the only one.” Cu shot back. Perhaps he was drawing this out, but . . . when Gae Bolg finally found it’s target, that would be the last time he saw Archer. No more battles, no more bickering, no more grey eyes that occasionally looked like crystallized amber, no more scent of baked goods and cinnamon. He wanted this last battle to be epic, etched into his memory forever, so he could turn it over and over like a gem in his fingers, watching the light play off it’s sides. “Now that the warm up is done with.” He moved, his foot impacted with Archer’s side, the other man was sent spinning, crashing into a tree. There was a loud crack, blood sprayed from his lips.

Cu followed the attack, Gae Bolg plunging down, but Archer was already rolling, inside Cu’s guard, slashing furiously. A blazing line of pain cut across his inner thigh, another almost caught his heel. Cu moved, Archer followed, his blades slicing towards Cu’s gut, Cu spun his spear, the blades shattered in Archer’s hand, Cu followed up his attack, it was blocked by a newly formed weapon. For the briefest second, they were face to face, noses inches apart, their breath mingling, then they were back to back and still moving, blade clashing against blade, their forms dancing around each other, each step choreographed as if in some kind of production. Just two blurs, blue and red, clashing together in a violent confrontation.

Then, just like that, everything was thrown off balance, into chaos, the predictable swirl of battle tossed into treacherous waters.

There was a loud snap, not as if a twig had been broken, but as if somebody had snapped their fingers.

Cu felt his insides wretch, his blood began to boil.

Archer cried out in pain, coughed, fresh blood sprayed from his lips, spattered onto the ground.

Caster materialized from the shadows, smiling thinly, her amber eyes cruel and cold.

How? How had she gotten there without them noticing? She was a Caster, and Casters didn’t have presence concealment. Unless . . . unless she wasn't a Caster. But, her magic, what? It didn’t make sense. His head was spinning again, spinning spinning spinning. 

Another snap of her fingers, and chains burst from the ground. Archer wasn’t fast enough, one spiked him through the shoulder, another short bark of pain. Cu almost made it, but his head was spinning, it wouldn’t stop spinning. He tripped, a chain snaked around his ankle, another curled around his neck. He struggled, it didn’t matter, he felt weak, drained. He coughed, he saw the blood spray, drops glistening in the air like rubies.

Cold trickled down his back.

Poison.

Of course it was.

He was poisoned.

How had he not noticed earlier?

A slow clapping, Caster, or whoever she was, watched them with her cold eyes. They looked like a snake’s eyes, hypnotizing, holding her prey steady so she could strike. “Well, well,” she said, “Two bigger fools I couldn’t find. Both of you are so, so blind, too focused on each other to notice anything important.” She tilted her head, smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. “You should have paid attention, maybe then you would have had a chance.”

“How?” Cu gargled out, jerking his arm. One of his chains broke, dispersed into black mist. Another replaced it immediately.

Archer was quicker on the update. “You were the waiter, you spiked our drinks.” His voice was rough and cold. Furious, and Cu was glad for it. A furious Archer was an Archer who wasn’t out of the fight. Their eyes met, red to grey, Archer’s mouth tightened, Cu nodded slightly. They’d fought so many times against each other, rarely on the same side, but they knew how the other worked, how the other thought. 

“Correct,” Not Caster said, chuckling softly. “If you two had stopped drinking your drinks earlier, you would have been fine. How much did you have Archer, a cup? A cup and a half? But you, Lancer, you had two full cups, maybe more.” She smiled again, her eyes cold. “Your friend might be able to fight off the effects, eventually, but you, Lancer, are done for.”

Cu grinned at her, wide and fierce, there was blood smeared across his teeth. The sclera of one of his eyes was red now, and there was a track of blood down his cheek. “Perhaps, but you’ll be dead before I will. I’ll make sure of it.”

Archer’s twin swords dissolved into blue smoke.

She raised one eyebrow, “And what can you do? Trapped as you are?”

Archer’s lips, smeared with blood, were moving, although the exact words couldn’t be heard.

Cu just continued to grin. “Me? Nothing. I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

“So as I pray, UNLIMITED BLADE WORKS!”

Not Caster jerked, her eyes widening in surprise, the chain’s grip slackening. “Wha-?” It was too late, the park, the trees, the grass had all disappeared, replaced by a world full of swords and sand, gears clogging the cloudy sky.

Archer moved a finger, just one finger, and suddenly swords from all over jerked out of the sands and shot down towards them. Not Caster teleported, the chain’s were broken, dissolving into black smoke. Archer stood unhindered, a hole in his shoulder, his armor bathed in his blood. Cu pushed himself up, coughing, wiping his mouth. His hand came away glistening, smeared with red. Together, they watched as Not Caster reappeared a little ways away.

Cu’s fingers wrapped around Gae Bolg’s shaft. “Lady,” he spat, “You picked the wrong two to fuck with.”

“For once,” Archer said, “I agree with Cu.” His skin was ashen, his eyes bloodshot. “Prepare yourself woman.” His finger twitched, a dozen swords, more, shot from the sands and in the woman's direction, this time she didn’t teleport. Her amber eyes narrowed, her teeth gritted. A shield formed around her, layer upon layer, ready to weather the barrage.

Cu smirked, shifted his grip again. His lungs hurt with each breath, his vision was fuzzy, there was an odd gurgling noise when he breathed. 

Archer’s swords impacted Not Caster’s shield, sending up a storm of sparks. Cu took that moment to strike, he could feel his mana, building, building. This woman's heart was his. “GAE BOLG!” He threw his spear, no longer a spear, a shaft of jerking, twisting red light, edges jagged and torn. Her shield was better than anything Archer could put up, but with Archer’s barrage of swords, it didn’t matter. There was a sound like glass shattering, a cry of pain, Archer’s swords stopped, the sparks cleared. Not Caster stood there, Gae Bolg half in, half out of her body. She had grabbed it in her hands, and was bent over, her long black hair covering most of her face. Gae Bolg’s tip protruded from her back, blood dripped down the engraved blade.

“No . . .” Her voice was a whisper, “Not like this . . . not yet .  . .” It didn’t matter, in a moment she was nothing but dissolving, golden light, and Cu’s spear was flying back to his hand.

Archer’s reality marble collapsed, Cu fell to his knees, throwing up blood. It was wrong, too thick, and it tasted sour in his mouth. He threw up again, the substance splattered across the ground. “Cu,” Archer, that was Archer’s voice. A hand on his back, holding his hair out of his face. “How are you doing?” His voice was surprisingly gentle, Cu could smell baked goods and cinnamon.

“It feels like my insides are melting, you?” Cu spat, sitting back on his heels and wiping his mouth. His head pounded, his vision was fuzzy.

“Not as bad. Damn, I was hoping when Assassin was dead, the poison would go away.” Archer sat down a little ways away, one hand rubbing his head. He looked tired, his shoulders slumped, his arms shaking.

“We aren’t that lucky,” Cu muttered, bracing Gae Bolg against his shoulder. So Not Caster had been Assassin, huh? It fit. He eyed Archer, a sick feeling in his gut. Then again, that might have been the poison. “You’re fading.”

Archer eyed him back. “So are you.”

Cu sighed, “Damn it, and I had you this time too.”

“You did not.”

“I did too.”

Archer scowled, “I’m not getting into a childish argument with you,” for a few seconds silence lay between them, then Archer sighed, placing his hand behind him and leaning back, tilting his head to the sky. Cu could see his profile, drawn in sharp relief by the meager light the moon cast on them.

“Oh please,” Cu said, “You love arguing with me.”

“I do not.”

“Yes you do, otherwise you wouldn’t argue with me.”

There was a pause, then Archer chuckled. Cu started, because Archer’s chuckle was warm and soft and rich, something he could have listened to forever. “Perhaps you’re right, and perhaps you’re just argumentative.”
“Fuck you.” Another laugh, and Cu’s heart skipped a beat. It was probably the poison. Most definitely the poison. “So, Archer? How long do you have left? I know I drank more of the poison then you, but I bet I can last longer.” He forced a grin, but it wasn’t his normal one, filled with blood lust and delight. No, it was a little bit sickly, a little bit awkward.

Archer glanced at him, “Doubtful.”

“Well, if you have enough time,” Cu said, laying down and crossing his arms under his head, trying to get comfortable. Well, as comfortable as he could with his stomach heaving and his lungs melting and his head aching and his vision blurring and whatever else Assassin’s poison was doing to his body. “Could you tell me why you did it?”

Archer froze. “Did what?”

Cu tilted his head so he could watch Archer. The other man had pulled himself up straight and was staring at him with a particularly blank expression. The tips of his fingers and hair were transparent, the edges of his body indistinct. “You know what I’m talking about.”

He closed his eyes, sighed heavily. “I suppose I do.” He opened them again, stared at nothing, “In the beginning, I didn’t mean to betray her, I . . . didn’t remember except for flashes.” He closed his eyes again. “Let’s just put it this way, imagine you could go back into time, and you had the chance to destroy your younger self to prevent all the pain you would go through. Would you do it?”

Cu moved, the world swimming around him in a blur of colors. In less than a second he was sitting in front of Archer, peering into his face, trying to determine what he saw there. Cu took in the way Archer’s mouth was twisted, the way his face was held as if braced for a blow. The ashen skin, the bloodstained lips, the bloodshot eyes. Slowly, he pulled back, so they weren’t separated by mere centimetres. “No, I wouldn’t. I don’t have any regrets killing my younger self would solve. I knew what I was getting into.”

“I didn’t,” Archer’s voice was dark and bitter, he stared down at his palms, his gaze shadowed and pained. “My goal was never fame, or riches, or reveling in battle, it was to save people. Every one and any one I could, I would try to save them all. At the time, I didn’t understand what that entailed, but I learned.” He laughed again, and this time it was bitter, angry. “To save someone, somebody else must be abandoned. To rescue a life, you must destroy another. I thought it could be different, I was wrong. When I was alive, I made a deal with Alaya for the power to save lives. I was sent all over the world, through different times, to different places, to save people.” His voice went darker, the next words were spat out. “To kill people.” He sucked in a breath, almost like a sob, “It broke me. And in the end, I was killed by people who believed I had orchestrated everything.” His voice shook, so did his hands. Impulsively, Cu took Archer’s hands in his, the roughness of Archer’s calluses scraped against his own. “And it didn’t even end with my death.” His whole body was shaking now, “And then I was summoned to that War, with Rin as my Master. I didn’t remember much, but she caused me to remember, and that was when I realized my chance. I could stop it all, I could prevent all that pain, all those deaths, everything, if I stopped my younger self. Killed him, made him realize his ideals were stupid, anything to force him off the path I would follow. And therefore save myself. And in doing that, I ended up throwing everything away.” Another bitter laugh, his form was almost transparent now. “I couldn’t even do it in the end. Those damn ideals were just too fucking strong.”

Cu didn’t know what to say. Archer’s situation was vastly different then Cu had expected it to be. He’d been a desperate man, and desperate men make horrible mistakes. Cu thought back, back to that first war with Archer, to everything that happened. He knew who Archer was. The answer was closer than he’d thought all along. He squeezed Archer’s hands, letting him know he was there. “Well,” he said softly, “I guess I have tasted your cooking after all.” He gave a teasing smile. “Have you improved with the years or . . .?”

Archer stared at him, before scowling, although traces of that horrible self hatred that had painted his face disappeared. “You ass.”

Cu squeezed his hands tighter, “I’m sorry, Archer, but there isn't really much more I can say. That story is something else,” he smiled again, this time softer, gentler, his red eyes warm. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through, but,” he closed his own eyes, sighed, “sometimes things don’t work out. Sometimes you think you want one thing when you really want another.”

Archer sighed, closed his eyes. Cu thought he saw the glimmer of tears on his cheeks. “I think that’s obvious.”

Cu let go with one hand, reached out, wiped the tears away. Archer’s cheek was smooth beneath his fingers, he could feel the other man stiffen at the touch. “Yeah, but hey! On the bright side, you do have somebody to talk about it when it gets too much.” 

Archer glared at him. “Who? You? We’re trying to kill each other, remember?”

Cu shrugged, “So? Who says enemies can’t also have heart to hearts?”

Archer scowled, “I hate you.” He said, without conviction. Cu held his fist up, grinning. Reluctantly, Archer tapped his own fist against his. There was gold drifting off Archer’s fist and arm. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but a small smile had slipped onto his lips, and Cu counted that as a win.

“Yeah, well, kinda have to be. I’m dying by poison,” Cu made a face, “Not exactly a warrior's death, is it? You better not tell anyone.”

“I won’t, and Cu,” he hesitated, his grey eyes unsure, “Call me Emiya.”

A spark of delight lit itself in Cu’s chest at the words, “Very well, Emiya.” He couldn’t stop himself from lingering on the word, it fit right in his mouth. Emiya. “Until next time.”

“Gosh,” Emiya said, “If only I could be lucky enough to not see you again.” He was almost gone now, lights drifting towards the sky.

Cu could feel it now as well, the tingling sensation as he dissolved. The pain that had drifted into the background with Emiya’s story resurfaced, wave upon wave upon wave. “We aren’t that lucky,” he said with a smile.

Emiya chuckled again, and Cu laughed. The echo was all that remained as the two disappeared into swirling motes of light that eventually faded as they reached the sky.

Chapter Text

The next time Cu saw Emiya, the Archer found him first. There was the scream of air as it was displaced, Cu moved, Gae Bolg spinning, his feet skipping over the earth as the arrow that would have penetrated his back plunged into the ground. Cu twisted, turned, and there he was, bow in hand. Emiya. His white hair bright with the full moon’s light. His features etched with silver, his grey eyes warm. His red jacket tugged and tossed by the wind, sending fluttering shadows across the ground. Emiya. How well that name suited the Archer in red. It could be read in the lines of his shoulders, the shape of his eyes, the planes of his face. Emiya. As obvious as that red coat, now that Cu knew to look.

Emiya. 

Cu grinned, wide and fierce and joyful. “Master, you might want to get the hell out of dodge. I don’t want you getting hit by stray shrapnel.” Then, aloud, he said, “Hey, Emiya~. Long time no see.” He lingered on Emiya’s name, on the way it fit into his mouth. He liked it. He liked the fact that Emiya had told Cu his story, his name. Cu had been trusted with Emiya’s secret, and that was enough to set his heart on fire.

Emiya winced slightly, his ears going red as he glanced around anxiously with his grey eyes. “Look, Lancer, let’s not use real names, okay? Middle of a fucking Holy Grail War, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Aww,” Cu pouted, “But I just learned yours. And I like saying it.”

“Uh . . . Okay. Tell me when you’re finished.” His Master’s words were faint, fleeting, and Cu felt a jolt of relief that he was out of the way. He was a good Master, but weak and unskilled. He would have been killed if he stayed.

Emiya flushed, his whole face going red this time, and once again Cu felt delight light up his insides. Score one for Cu. “Look, that, uh,” Emiya narrowed his eyes, glared down at Cu as if his face wasn’t on fire. “I don’t know why I told you that. Could you forget it? All of it?”

Cu grinned again, “No can do, Emiya~. Now, are you going to continue to shoot your ineffective projectiles, or are you going to come down here and face me? You know, attempt to penetrate me with your swords.” He winked.

Emiya flushed harder. Score two for Cu. “Seriously? Seriously?! God you are so annoying!” In a flash and a flutter of red cloth, he jumped from his perch and landed on the ground.

Cu was already moving, a smile wide on his face. Emiya was so easy to fluster, whether it was his ears that went red or his whole face, that at least, hadn’t changed. 

He struck, Emiya blocked, his dual swords taking the brunt of the hit. He was still sent flying off his feet, but it hardly lasted, and by the time Cu followed up, Emiya was ready for him. Once again they were a blur, a crash of blades, a force of nature. Cu twisted, his foot shooting out. Archer spun, gliding out of the way, before striking with his swords. Cu was ready, twisting out of the way of one strike, Gae Bolg shattering the other blade. Emiya didn’t back off to summon another, instead pushing forwards, his white blade striking in sharp, short jabs. A few seconds later, that blade broke too, but Emiya’s black blade, once again in his hands, almost caught Cu’s side. Cu switched to a one handed grip, grabbed Emiya’s arm, then struck. Emiya barely summoned his white blade in time, as Gae Bolg glided past his arm, ripping open the sleeve of his jacket.

For a second, they stayed that way, struggling against each other, until Emiya managed to break Cu’s grip and dart away. Cu grinned at him, lazily twirling Gae Bolg in his hand. “So, Emiya~, what have you been up too?”

Emiya went red again. Score three for Cu, he was racking up the points today. “Would you stop saying my name like that? Seriously, what the hell is up with you today?”

Cu shrugged, “Look, I have to say your name as much as possible, Emiya~, to make up for all that time I didn’t know it. So, Emiya~, how was your day?”

Was it possible for him to get any redder? Cu wasn’t sure, but it looked like he was attempting it. “None of your business.” He growled, then he was a blur, both blades in hand and headed towards Cu’s throat.

Cu danced back, feet gliding, twisting and spinning Gae Bolg to block Emiya’s frenzied strikes. “Now, Emiya~, don’t be like that. I thought we had bonded? You know, over the shared pains of being killed off by poison?” He shifted from defense to offense, Gae Bolg a blur in his hands as he struck.

Archer lost both his blades blocking, and gained another scratch as he frantically jerked out of the way of Cu’s strike. “I thought,” he shot, his eyes gleaming with the fervor of battle, “That you didn’t want to bring up the poison incident, Lancer.” He was too close now, in Cu’s guard, both hands gripping two new blades.

Cu dropped and twisted, not quite fast enough as a line of pain drew itself across his shoulder. His foot shot out, wove between Emiya’s legs, and the Archer started to fall. “Well, you know, Emiya~, that I’m going to bring it up if you act like the whole thing didn’t happen. We had a moment Emiya! A moment! You can’t deny it!”

Emiya hit the ground, made a sound like an exploding teapot, and rolled out of the way as Cu drove Gae Bolg into the spot where his chest should have been. “It was an accident,” He growled, “I didn’t mean to tell you all that! I wasn’t thinking straight! You know, poison!” He scrambled to his feet, blades at the ready.

Cu followed, Gae Bolg’s tip glinting in the moonlight as he brought it down once again. “You told me to call you Emiya! There are no takesy backsies!”

“There are always takesy backsies!” He yelled back, crossing his swords overhead to intercept the blow, one knee driven to the ground. Then in a lower voice, he added, “I can’t believe I just had to say that.”

Cu almost burst out laughing at Emiya’s affronted expression. “Come on, Emiya~, lighten up a little bit.” He grinned down at the other man, sparks flying around their faces. “Nobody’s here but us.”

“That you know of!” Emiya growled back, heaving Cu off of him, sending the Lancer skidding back. “Assassin could always be somewhere!” He followed up, both blades a blur.

Cu dodged, blocked, scowling at Emiya. “Let’s not talk about Assassin. Let’s talk about the moment that totally and completely happened!” 

Emiya swung both swords at Cu’s side, Cu stuck Gae Bolg in their way. For a second, they struggled, growling angrily. “So what if it did?” Emiya asked through gritted teeth, his white brows drawn together, his eyes alight. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters a lot!” Cu growled right back at him, taking a step forwards, twisting and striking and pushing. Emiya went flying, hitting the ground hard and rolling a couple of feet before stopping, blades disappearing into blue smoke. “It means a lot.” Cu’s last words were quiet in the suddenly silent night. “It means everything.” And the scary thing was that it did, it did mean a lot, even if he hadn’t quite figured out why yet.

Emiya pushed himself up, arms shaking. One half of his face was coated in blood, his grey eyes were hard. Cu felt the loss of that warmth that had been in his gaze previously keenly. He should have held his tongue, shouldn’t have pushed them both into this ridiculous argument. But he had, and now here they were, fifteen feet apart but feeling farther.

Then Emiya closed his eyes and sighed. It was a heavy sigh, full of something that Cu couldn’t name. Then he started to laugh, harsh and horse. “You are ridiculous. It was just a story. That’s all.” His words were bitter, angry. “It doesn’t matter.”

Cu relaxed his guard, stared down at Emiya. “Yes it does. Your history matters. You matter, even if you're too thick-skulled to see it. I’m glad you honored me with your story, Emiya. I’m happy to finally know something about you besides the fact that you cook.” He gave Emiya a crooked grin.

Emiya looked at him, and he looked, almost, vulnerable. Cu’s heart ached. He wanted to wipe the blood off Emiya’s face and tell him that everything was going to be alright. But it wouldn’t be, because they were in the middle of a Holy Grail War, and one of them would die. One of them would always die. “I’m nothing Cu, just a man who lost himself. A nameless counter guardian, broke to pieces.”

Cu sighed, ran one hand over his hair. “We’re all broken, Emiya, it kinda comes with the territory of being a hero. Some of us are just able to hide it easier.” He stepped forwards, Gae Bolg’s tip dragged across the ground, sending sparks flying into the air. “And you’re not nothing, Emiya, not by a long shot.” He grinned then, fierce and wide and violent. “You’re something to me.” He struck.

Emiya rolled, shot up, blades once again in hand. “Har har,” he said sarcastically, but he was smiling. “And what am I to you, Cu?”

Cu’s heart skipped a beat when Emiya said his name. It was silly, and stupid, but it still did it. Cu’s bloodlust roared back into life, fanning the flames of what had dimmed as their conversation continued. “Well for one,” strike, block, “you’re my rival. Two,” Another flash as Gae Bolg danced, Emiya twisted out of the way, “You’re the only person I’ve been this close to since my death. Three,” Another dart, another block. “You’re my connection to pretty much every Holy Grail War I’ve been summoned into.” Their blades were locked together now, they stared at each other, red eyes to grey, Cu grinning, Emiya stoic. “So I would say that you mean a lot to me, Emiya.” 

Perhaps even more so than what Cu had said. 

Emiya stared at him, and in that second they were frozen, time ceased to exist. This close, Cu could see that Emiya’s grey eyes weren’t completely grey, they were flecked with amber and brown. His lashes were thick and dark, his lips slightly parted as he breathed. Cu could see the faint scars on his skin, from a dozen battles, one curved under his eye, another flicked up from the corner of his mouth. A tapestry of nicks and scratches that wrote out Emiya’s life as a Counter Guardian. He could smell Emiya’s scent, baked goods and cinnamon, despite the tang of blood in the air, heavy and intoxicating, sending his head spinning.

Then Emiya licked his lips, and the moment was shattered, time resuming it’s normal, frenzied speed. “Yeah,” he breathed, his voice ragged, “Let’s go with that.” Then he was moving, backing away, eyes wide, ears red, face quickly following. 

Score four? Did it count?

Cu followed the retreating man, quicker than him, heading off his escape. This time there was no banter, all that needed to be said had been said. No, now there was only movement, the clash of weapons, the dull throb of pain as wounds were drawn across skin. Their breaths had evened out, their chest heaving together. Emiya’s blades shattered and were reformed, weaving and darting and scoring slices across Cu’s knuckles and hands. Gae Bolg was a constant blur of motion, and when it hit, the results were devastating. They were both drawing this fight out and they knew it, but Cu didn’t want it to end, and he could tell by the look on Emiya’s face that he didn’t want the battle to end either. 

But battle isn’t like that, people make mistakes, and experienced warriors take advantage of those mistakes before thought can kick in.

Emiya tripped, his foot hitting one of the many gouges in the ground and sending him stumbling down. His hands flew out to catch himself. Cu struck, Gae Bolg striking in a second. His spear buried itself a few inches beside Emiya’s heart, punching through his lung. Emiya’s eyes widened, blood sprayed from his lips, but even he wasn’t going to let that blow stop him. His feet tangled with Cu’s sending the Lancer sprawling. There was a flash of pain in Cu’s back as the two heroic spirits hit the ground.

The clever bastard had stabbed him in the back as they fell.

They lay there on the ground, legs tangled together, Emiya’s arms around Cu’s middle and back, one of Cu’s hand’s wrapped around Gae Bolg, the other braced beside Emiya’s head. “Ow,” Emiya breathed, glaring up at the sky with it’s full moon and shining stars.

Cu pushed himself up slightly, staring down into Emiya’s face. “You just couldn’t let me win, could you?”

“How could I let somebody so sloppy win?” Asked Emiya, coughing. There was blood on his lips, his chin was smeared with red. “You missed my heart for fucks sake. Now get off me, you’re heavy.” 

Cu stared down at him with narrowed eyes, then plopped back down fully onto Emiya, tucking his face into the other man’s neck. “Sorry, but I can’t do that. You stab me in the back, you get to be squashed.”

Emiya let go of his blades, Cu could feel them as they dissolved, pressure in his wounds, then nothing. He heard Emiya’s hands flop to the ground, listened to the Archer’s wheezing breath. “Cu . . .”

“Once again, can’t move.”

“I’m serious here.” Archer sputtered, there was a gurgling noise in his lungs that Cu didn’t like. 

“So am I,” Cu said, lips brushing Emiya’s neck. He could feel the other man squirm. “You could have hit my spine, Emiya~. What if I’m paralyzed? Then I would be stuck lying here, and you would be stuck serving as my pillow.”

“But you’re not.” Emiya said in a strangled voice, “I didn’t hit your spine. So get off me.”

“Hmm,” Cu breathed, “But I could be.”

“But you’re not.”

“But I could be.”

“But you’re not.”

“But I could be.”

“But you’re not.”

Cu sighed, “Emiya, you’re a heroic spirit. You could move me if you really wanted too.”

“I have a punctured lung.” Emiya growled out, his words vibrating through his chest. “Your spear is sticking through my chest, in case you haven’t noticed. So get off me, so my final moments can be peaceful and unsquashed.”

Cu chuckled. “I could, but you stabbed me in the back, so I’m just going to lay here. Besides,” he smiled, “I’m comfy.”

Emiya made another strangled noise in the back of his throat. It sounded vaguely like get off. Or it could have been fuck you. Or, even possibly, but this was a stretch, fuck me.

Cu laughed again, the sound soft and delighted. He wiggled slightly, trying to get comfortable. His ‘I’m comfy,’ had been a lie, one that he was determined to fix. 

Emiya made another strangled noise, “Okay, that’s it.” He grabbed Cu’s shoulder’s and pushed. Cu didn’t resist, rolling off the other man and onto the broken ground. He glanced at Emiya. His face was red, so red it almost glowed. Score five for Cu. But still, Cu couldn’t help but think that Emiya didn’t look so good, with the blood smeared across his lips and plastered to his face, with Gae Bolg protruding from his chest. 

Cu rolled onto his side, tucked his arm beneath his head, and watched Emiya’s pained breathing. He’d thought that he wanted to defeat Emiya, to free them both from this cycle, but now he couldn’t help but look at the other man and be sad. Blood didn’t suit him, no, Emiya wasn’t made for battlefields and war, he was made to help people, to make them happy. It was why he looked so right while shopping for his Master. In that second of time, both of them bleeding and dying, Cu realized that Emiya was no warrior, heroic spirit or not.

Emiya glanced at Cu, his face still red, his grey eyes bright. “What?” His voice was carefully blank.

Cu reached out, tried to wipe some of the blood from Emiya’s face. “It doesn’t suit you, blood, it doesn’t look good on you.”

Emiya’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Why didn’t you become a healer?” Cu asked, the words soft. “Most people take that path when they try to save lives.”

Emiya looked at him, then turned to the sky. “Because I was a young, naive, idiot. I never thought about it that way, I just wanted to save people.”

“Ah,” Cu said, his voice soft. Emiya was disappearing, sparks, gold and blue and white floating off his form. Cu reached out, grabbed Emiya’s arm, trying to keep the Archer here, with him. “Do you like fighting?” He wasn’t sure why he asked it, but suddenly, it felt important, like everything depended on it.

Emiya turned his gaze to Cu again. “I . . . never really thought about it. Fighting you is okay, but . . . even now killing gets to me. Are you going to call me a coward, Cu?”

Cu shook his head, “No. I would never. I was just thinking that, if you don’t like fighting, then you shouldn’t have to. Maybe we could work something out?”

Emiya’s lip twitched. “Am I to make a deal with the devil?”

“Har har, listen up, you don’t have much time. What if, just hear me out, whenever you encounter a fight you don’t want to fight, or whatever, you send up a flare, and I come running and fight it for you. It’s a win win situation, don’t you think? You don’t have to fight, I get to fight to my heart’s content, and in the end, we’ll be the only two left and our battle will be uninterrupted and epic.” Emiya opened his mouth to say something, but Cu removed his hand from Emiya’s arm and placed his finger on his lips. “Don’t. You don’t have to answer immediately. Just, if you want to, send that flare up and I’ll come running.” He smiled, wide and fierce, “I promise you.”

For a few seconds, Emiya stared at him, then he closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine, you battle hungry idiot, I’ll think about it.” But his lips were pulled into the slightest smile, and his tone was warm. “I’ll see you around.” And then he collapsed into that glittering dust, travelling up into the sky to disappear.

Cu watched him leave, feeling both pleased and sad. “You too, Emiya.” He lingered on the words, thinking of Emiya’s small smile. Then he pushed himself up, ignoring the ache in his back and the pool of blood that marked where he had lain, grabbed Gae Bolg, and started off to see if he could find his Master. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would make it in time to be healed. But he doubted it. He wasn’t that lucky, and somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to be sour at that fact. 

Not this time.

Chapter Text

The flare was bright, so bright it lit the sky, turning the black into white. Cu saw it through the window of his Master’s limousine, saw the brilliance as it lit up the city. His heart immediately started pounding in his chest, Emiya, it had to be Emiya. Immediately the suit he was wearing shifted into his battle attire. Immediately his seat belt was unbuckled and he was half way into spirit form.

“Stop, Lancer.”

He froze, quivering, turned to his Master, who sat in front of him, sipping from a container of hot tea.

“That is a Servant, correct?” They didn’t wait for an answer. “They are bold, whoever it is, to send up something that bright. It will alert the authorities. If you go, you will have to end the battle quickly.”

“I know,” he said, wrestling with his impatience. Emiya had sent up the flare, and Cu had promised to come to him when he did so. He had too.

“Then go, and bring me a swift victory. I will be there as soon as able.” They rapped the window that separated the front seat from the back, then returned to their newspaper. 

Cu was already in spirit form, jumping through the car’s door as it raced down the road, headed straight towards the flare. He was fast, it didn’t take him long, and he skidded to a stop to see Emiya and another figure standing there. Emiya was injured, blood coating his side, breath crystallizing in the air with each panicked gasp he took. Cu felt rage take him, something beyond his normal blood lust that tinged his vision with red. He turned his gaze to the enemy.

To his surprise, it was a girl, small and young, holding a doll in her hands. Crystals of ice danced and bloomed at her feet, her blue ermine cloak was coated in frost. Cold seemed to radiate from her, chilling the already freezing air and turning even Cu’s breath to ice clouds. He couldn’t imagine what Emiya was feeling, without the blood of Lugh in his veins to help him stave off the cold.

He glanced at Emiya, their eyes met. Frost coated one of his cheeks, drew patterns on his jacket and armor. The blood that coated his side was sluggish, his lips were tinted blue. He wasn’t in good shape, that was obvious. But his grey eyes were wide, perhaps a touch delighted. The corner of his lips pulled into the tiniest of smiles, and his voice was dry and sarcastic, maybe a bit warm. “Lancer, what a surprise.” 

Cu flashed a grin in Emiya’s direction, sharp and wide. “I know, right? Who would have thought?”

He turned to the girl, almost too late, she’d taken their moment of distraction as an opportunity to strike. Ice hurtled at them both, shards that ruptured from the ground at the tilt of her head. Emiya retreated, Cu spun and dodged, then ran at her, Gae Bolg’s tip glinting darkly in the meager light, striking towards her chest.

She spoke, one word, in a deeper and smoother and colder voice than Cu would have expected for one her age. “Viy.”

Something dark coalesced behind her, a shadow with hints of blue, it’s edges blurred, breaking off into dark snow. For the briefest second, Cu got the glimpse of two freezing blue eyes, then the thing curved around the girl, deflecting Cu’s blow. It unfurled, and Cu caught a glimpse of the girls eyes through her white bangs, as frozen blue as the shadow creature’s, then she was reaching out one hand, and Cu scrambled to dodge as ice crystallized in the air and shot towards him.

He tripped. 

It was so unexpected that he couldn’t stop himself from hitting the ground. His rage and blood lust was frozen, his mouth a surprised o, too stunned to move. The shadow behind the girl swelled, she took in a deep breath, then breathed out, a stream of ice and snow that headed in Cu’s direction. There was the scream of air as it was displaced, the shadow looked up, curling around the girl and stopping her attack. Ice formed around the girl and her shadow creature, and Cu pushed himself up and scrambled back as one of Emiya’s arrows shot towards them both. There was an explosion, and Cu was thrown into the air by the shock wave, sent skidding across the ground. It felt like his limbs were sluggish, as if they were filled with ice, but the heat from the explosion warmed him and reignited his blood lust. It was the girl and her creature, they froze the world around them, slowing everything down. It was a dangerous power, and excitement stirred in his blood. A worthy opponent.

Cu turned to where the arrow had come from, made out Emiya’s form against the dark sky, and mouthed a quick thank you. Emiya deserved it, his arrow had most likely saved Cu’s life. Emiya made a motion that looked like a shrug from this distance, then flapped his hands. Cu turned back to the girl.

The arrow had shattered the ice barrier, and large chunks glittered on the ground, a dozen colors reflected of their surfaces. The dark creature uncurled from it’s master’s form, holes sizzling in it’s shadowy body. The girl stared out with glowing blue eyes, blood trailing from a cut in her forehead. But other than that, she looked unharmed. She straightened, proud and regal, with the air some kind of royalty, and spoke again. Her voice was cold and furious, she stroked her doll’s hair. “You hurt Viy.”

“Viy was trying to hurt me.” Cu said, lunging forwards, his feet dancing across the ground.

The girl’s eyes, no, Caster’s eyes, glowed brighter, as pale and frosty as the ice chunks that lay steaming on the ground. She jerked her head, sharply, and ice formed again, spears that hurtled in both Emiya’s and Cu’s direction. Cu laughed, projectiles. Projectiles were nothing to him. He danced and dodged, spinning through the attacks, untouchable.

That was the theory, at least.

Pain in his shoulder and thigh, his feet once again tripped up on their own accord. Snow rushed in his direction, distantly, he could hear Emiya’s cry of pain. Cu used Gae Bolg to flip himself out of the way of the stream of snow and ice, right in the nick of time. He felt his fingers grew colder from the edges of that blast, and if he hadn’t been the Child of Light, frost burn would have been the outcome. Briefly he caught a glimpse of Caster, the shadowy creature, Viy, curled close to her form, her eyes glowing, a whirlwind of snow and ice spinning around her, making her dress and cloak flutter. 

Glowing eyes.

She had some kind of mystic eyes.

Cu cursed violently, and hit the ground running, a blue blur as he rushed back to attack. She twisted around, her eyes tracking him, her ice whirlwind shooting spikes in his direction. Cu tried to dodge, again, he failed. Another burst of pain through his arm, sharp slashes all over the rest of his body. Another scream in the air, Caster jerked her head around, her eyes leaving a trail of light with the movement. Her whirlwind spun into a shield, leaving her back open. Cu took that chance to strike. Viy intercepted him, Gae Bolg cutting through the fabric of the creature. It cried out in pain, retreated into the doll Caster held in her hands. Cu reversed his strike, bringing it across Caster’s back. 

He tripped again, because of course he did.

His strike was fumbled, what would have cut open her back merely sliced her thick cloak in half. She turned to him, furious, Archer’s arrow impacted her shield, and ice was sent raining down as they were both tossed from the shock wave. Cu managed to flip to his feet, ready for another attack. Caster wasn’t that lucky or agile, she was sent spinning, rolling across the ground, her dress ripping and tearing. She lay, no, curled around the doll, protecting it. She looked up, her white hair was disheveled, blood and grit covered her face. She smiled, thinly, a smile as cold as her magic. “This is not over. You will freeze.” And then she was gone, in spirit form and rapidly retreating.

Cu turned to where Emiya stood, so far away, a barely discernible figure. He sent a grin and a thumbs up in his direction. Test run number one of his plan was successful. Not only did Emiya not have to fight, except for the few strategically placed arrows, but Cu had a strong opponent that he would have to defeat. Everything was working out wonderfully.

Emiya, after a second’s pause, waved goodbye and disappeared into spirit form.

A car screamed into the battlefield. A door opened, and Cu’s Master stepped out, staring at the frozen and cracked ground. “Did I miss it?”

Cu set Gae Bolg on his shoulders, grinned at them, reveling in his and Emiya’s victory. “Yeah, you did. But boy do I have a lot to tell you about Caster.”

Later that night, Cu traveled around in spirit form. He had no fear of his Master being attacked again tonight. Every servant in this Holy Grail War had decided to raise their heads. Assassin was, to Cu’s great relief, dead. So was Saber. It was startling, the first night of the War ending in the death of two Servants, but that ensured that no one else would try their luck. No, they would be busy collecting information on the Servants that remained and recovering from the mana drain.

So here Cu was, running down streets and across rooftops, scouting out the city for the best place to fight tomorrow night, if Emiya didn’t send a flare up first. 

The night was still, the clouds covering the starry sky above. There was a bitter chill in the air that reminded Cu of Caster. Winter was well on its way, and he did not want to face that girl when there was already frost on the ground.

A building caught his eye, towering over the landscape. It would offer the perfect bird’s eye view of the city. Cu smiled, sharp and fierce, then changed course. A few minutes later, he was coalescing back into his real form, sitting on the building’s roof, feet dangling off the edge, staring at the city below. It was a tapestry of buildings, some lit up, others dark and silent, a patchwork quilt of humanity.

Cu kicked his feet, waiting, hopeful.

Time passed, Cu was almost ready to give up, ready to jump down and leave and continue scouting the city when he felt it. The approach of a Servant, the sound of a very familiar, aggrieved voice. “Oh, come on! What are you doing here?”

Cu turned sharply, unable to keep his grin off his face. “Well, hello there, Emiya~. Why the sour face?”

Emiya, who had been frowning, rapidly started blushing. He was looking better now, obviously his Master had healed his wounds. His face was unmarred by frost burn, the rips in his clothing repaired. He held himself stiffly, his shoulders straight, gripping the package in his hands. His hair glimmered in the faint light, Cu could just make out the planes of his face, the line of his nose, the tightness in his lips. But for all the annoyance that showed in his face and was presented in his words, his grey eyes were warm as he gazed at Cu. “Is that,” he growled out, “going to become your standard greeting now? And move over, that’s my viewing spot.”

Cu just sent another grin his way, scooting over an inch or two. “It is if you keep on blushing like that.”

“I am not blushing.” Emiya grumbled, moving over to sit beside Cu. He didn’t dangle his legs over the edge like Cu was doing, instead he sat cross legged, his knee bumping Cu’s thigh. “Your eyes are faulty that’s all.”

Cu scowled faintly, but amusement bubbled in his stomach. “You are so blushing, look, your ears are red. Don’t worry, it’s adorable. Is that for me?”

Emiya’s face went even redder, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “If you keep on antagonizing me, it won’t be for you.”

“WAIT!?” Cu yelped, startled, “It is for me?” He’d been joking, never in his wildest dreams had he believed that Emiya would actually get him something. Unless that something was coal.

Emiya passed it over, looking away awkwardly, his lips twisted in embarrassment. “I figured I would run into you again tonight, with my luck. It’s a thank you for . . . well, you know. I didn’t think I was going to do it, I didn’t think you would . . .” He trailed off, sighed, slumped, ran a hand over his spiky white hair. He looked tired, his shoulders weighed down with too many burdens, too many responsibilities. Cu suddenly felt like tucking him into bed and smoothing the wrinkles from his forehead.

He took the wrapped box, “Yeah, I didn’t think you were going to do it either.” He shook the box, sniffed it, “What’s in here?”

“Don’t shake it! Seriously, what are you, a child? And . . . I wasn’t, I wasn’t going to do it. And then Caster and I started fighting, and,” He scowled, sighed, fiddled with his fingers, “I couldn’t stop thinking about your words, and then I started asking myself those questions, and then I was firing that flare.”

Cu took in Emiya’s beaten expression, the shadow in his grey eyes, the way his shoulders curled up around his neck. Then he bumped the other man’s shoulder with his own and said cheerfully, “Well I, for one, am glad you did. And I am also very thankful for those arrows. They were very helpful.”

Emiya’s black mood lifted, and he sniggered. “Yeah, I noticed. I didn’t know the great Cu Chulainn could trip in the middle of battle, let alone multiple times.”

This time it was Cu’s turn to scowl. “Caster’s fault.”

Emiya sent him a small, almost teasing smile, and Cu’s heart skipped a beat. “Sure it was. Are you going to open that or not?”

Cu turned away from Emiya’s smile and towards his gift, grinning slightly himself. Delight bubbled up in his stomach. Emiya had known Cu would seek him out, and had known where Cu would be waiting for him, and had brought this for him. For him! Emiya, whom he had once hated. That time seemed so distant now, with Emiya beside him, the scent of baked goods and cinnamon in the air, and Emiya’s gift in his lap. Eagerly, he started ripping open the wrapping, jerked open the box.

His jaw dropped.

His head swiveled towards Emiya, his eyes wide, his mouth stretching into a delighted smile. “You made me food!”

Emiya’s ears went red again, he looked away, rubbed his face with one hand. “I didn’t make you food,” he said, his voice strained, “These are simply leftovers, okay? I didn’t make them for you, I just figured that they could be put to a better use then sitting around in the fridge.”

“Sure you didn’t, Emiya~.” Cu turned away from Emiya, and towards the food Emiya totally hadn’t made for him. Then, smile still on his face, he dug in. Flavor exploded on his tongue, and Cu couldn’t stop himself from moaning in delight. “It’s so good!” He managed, before turning back to the very important task of stuffing his face as fast as humanly possible.

“Hey!” Emiya yelped, grabbing the box from him. “Don’t eat so fast, you’ll choke.” But he was smiling, an honest, pleased smile, and the sight of it sent Cu’s heart racing. “So, have I improved?” He asked slyly, his grey eyes veiled, handing back the box when Cu was done with his mouthful.

“Yes.” Cu said emphatically, before going back to demolishing his gift. Albeit, slightly slower, just to appease Emiya. 

“Good,” Emiya said, his tone smug, and they fell into silence as Cu chewed, swallowed, and then stuffed his face again. It was a comfortable silence, as one stared out into the city and the other devoured his meal. Just two Heroic Spirits who were supposed to be enemies enjoying the sight and possibly each other’s company.

Cu finished the food, “That was good. I know I already said that, but it bears repeating. That was good,” he proclaimed, setting the box behind him and tossing an arm around Emiya’s shoulders, “You need anything from me, ever, I’m your man.” He grinned, wide and sharp and happy, his red eyes gleaming with good humor.

Emiya brushed Cu’s arm off his shoulders and gave him a blank look, “You have meat stuck between your teeth,” he said.

Cu shrugged and threw his arm around Emiya’s shoulders again.

With an aggrieved sigh, Emiya let him, the tips of his ears red. Alas, his face didn’t go red again as well. How many points had Cu racked up tonight? One? Two? Eh, he would count later. For now, he was content to sit there, swinging his legs and staring out at the city, his arm around Emiya’s shoulders. 

Finally, after the silence stretched a little bit too long, Emiya said, “What do we know about the other servants?”

Cu raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

Emiya’s ears were still red, “The other servants, comparing notes. Is your brain working?”

Cu scratched his hair, staring out on the horizon. “Are we supposed to be comparing notes? Isn’t that, I don’t know, betraying our Masters?”

It was Emiya’s turn to raise an eyebrow. His voice was dry and disbelieving. “Look where you’re sitting, Cu. You are sitting beside an enemy Servant, with your arm around said enemy Servant’s shoulders, after eating food that same enemy Servant gave you. We should be fighting, instead we’re just sitting here. I don’t think sharing information is going to make things worse.”

Cu shifted his arm, removing it from Emiya’s shoulders and setting it on the ground behind him so he could look up at the sky. “I guess you have a point,” he mused, the words slow and reluctant. “Caster has Mystic Eyes, I noticed that in our battle. And that shadow thing, she called it Viy, lives in her doll. Berserker is, from what my Master has found out, strong. Very strong.” Cu grinned, wide and sharp, his bloodthirsty grin. He couldn’t wait to fight Berserker. “I don’t know about Rider, though.”

“I can tell you a little bit about Rider,” Emiya said, his voice soft. “I caught the ending of her battle with Saber. She rode a white bull, was guarded by a giant robot, and,” his eyebrows drew together, “her demeanor was very cheerful and bubbly. But it wasn’t like your type of blood lust, this was something different. She herself doesn’t seem to be very powerful, but the bull and the robot are.”

“And Assassin and Saber are dead, which leaves us, Caster, Berserker, and Rider.” Cu’s grin stretched another inch. “I like those odds.”

Emiya rolled his eyes skyward, and Cu glanced at him. His hair moved slightly with the faint breeze, his lips were pulled into the slightest smile, his grey eyes were warm. For their topic of conversation, he seemed very relaxed, almost peaceful. Cu drank in the sight, committed it to memory. There weren’t many times Cu could remember Emiya being this relaxed. “Of course you do,” Emiya said softly, his words lingering in the air. Then he stood, stretched, and Cu watched that languid movement too. Emiya’s hands dropped to his sides, he stared down at Cu. “I better head back. See you around.” He turned to go.

Cu’s hand shot out, grabbing Emiya’s pant leg. “Wait a minute. I want you to see something.”

“Oh?”

“Be patient and sit down. You’ll see.”

Emiya smirked, “You, telling me to be patient? It’s almost funny.” But he sat, and together, they faced the horizon. “So what am I supposed to be seeing?”

Cu smiled, a gentler motion then his normal bloodthirsty grin. “When was the last time you watched the sunrise, Emiya?”

Emiya froze, then he burst into laughter. “You? Watch the sunrise? Seriously?”

Cu eyed him, scowling, ignoring the warm feeling Emiya’s laughter gave him. “Yes, I do. You didn’t answer the question.”

Emiya’s laughter died off, and he sighed. “I don’t know.”

“So stay, watch with me.”

A pause, then a reluctant answer. “Fine.”

Time passed, and the two sat in silence once again. Emiya’s leg brushed against Cu's, their shoulders bumped together. They might have been sitting a bit too close for such an open space, but neither of them brought that up. Slowly, the black sky started to turn blue, then purple, then red, then orange, all the way down to the yellow ball of fire that had begun to peak over the horizon. The clouds were painted into a million colors, blues and purples and pinks and oranges and golds. Light edged each building, drawing them in sharp relief. The chill in the air seemed to fade with the brilliance of the rising sun. 

Cu took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and soaking in the sun’s rays. He felt it call to him, warming him, curling in his bones and thrumming in his blood. “Morning Father,” he breathed, then he opened his eyes and looked at Emiya, “What do you think?”

Emiya was staring at him, wide eyed, mouth parted slightly. “I - ugh -” He coughed, turned away to stare at the colors that claimed the sky as their own. His ears were red, his voice was soft and tender, his face painted with the colors of the rising sun. “It’s beautiful.” He breathed, the words hanging in the air long after he spoke them.

Cu sucked in a deep breath, took in Emiya’s scent, baked goods and cinnamon. A warmth began to fill his veins, a warmth different than both battle lust and the light of the sun. “Emiya . . .” he whispered, just to say the name, just to feel it take from and to hear it in the air. He trailed off, unsure of what to say, knowing he was going to say something. He sat up straight, reached over with one hand, set it gently on Emiya’s broad shoulder. “Emiya . . .”

Emiya’s head jerked around, their eyes met, just for a second, just for a moment, and Cu caught a glimpse of those grey eyes, the flecks of gold and brown glowing with the dawn's light, giving his eyes that amber look. He took in how wide they were in that moment, how they shifted from soft and warm to alarmed. Then, in a panicky, jerky, ungainly way that was uncharacteristic of him, Emiya yanked away from Cu’s touch, tumbled backwards, and struggled to his feet. He grabbed the box and the torn up wrapper, holding it against his chest like a shield. His eyes darted around, looking everywhere but where Cu sat. His face was red, the reddest Cu had ever seen it. “Cu,” he rasped and there was a wild note in that single word that Cu couldn’t decipher. Then Emiya closed his eyes, took a deep breath, licked his lips, and tried again. “Cu, I’ll see you tonight.” Then in a blur of movement, he was gone.

Cu could have caught up to him, could have stopped him, could have asked him what was wrong. Perhaps he should have, he wanted to. But he didn’t, he just sat there, head swimming with their abrupt parting. Finally, shakily, he stood, then slipped into spirit form to head back to his Master’s side.

He didn’t get to fight Berserker the next night. No, when Emiya’s flare lit the sky, he rushed to the Archer’s side, heedless of his Master’s words. All he could think of was that moment that morning, the sunrise, the food, Emiya’s panicked expression. 

He wanted to ask what had happened, why he had rushed off so suddenly. 

He was afraid of the answer.

Cu arrived at the battlefield, skidding to a stop. Emiya was nowhere to be seen, obviously having already retreated. His enemy was in front of him, astride a white bull. Not Berserker, unfortunately, but Rider. That was good enough, he was itching for a fight, his veins buzzed with the need for movement. He would have preferred to corner Emiya and interrogate him, but a fight would do. 

A fight would do wonderfully.

The woman sat on the bull, balanced delicately on it’s wide back, a harp in her hands. Her long blond hair danced and spun with the breeze, she sent Cu a wide, dazzling smile. There was no sign of her supposedly giant robot. “Hi there Lancer! Archer seems to have retreated, so I guess I have you to myself.” She giggled, a soft, gentle sound. “Say hello Taurus, say hello Talos.” The white cow mooed. She placed a hand over her mouth, her pale purple eyes going very wide. “Ooops, I wasn’t supposed to say that,” she removed her hands, smiled again. “I don’t suppose you’ll forget that?”

Cu snorted, “Sorry, no chance.” Already, the differences between Caster and Rider were apparent. Caster was as cold as the ice she wielded, her voice soft and clipped. Rider was warm and bubbly, more than a bit of an airhead. Two different types of battles, two different types of opponents.

She pouted. “Well fine then, I guess I’ll have to get Talos to crush you.” She ran her fingers over the strings of her harp, lighting flashed down from the sky.

Cu was already moving, he had been as soon as his words had left his mouth. He rushed towards her, mentally calculating. Emiya said her power came from the robot and the bull, so he had to take those two out first, because it was doubtful that either would let him slay their owner. But if he had the chance to take down Rider, he would take it, that would guarantee the defeat of her guardians. Gae Bolg flashed, the tip glinting. Something thundered down from the sky, his spear skidded of metal, sparks flying into the air. A fist headed towards his head, he ducked, spun around, once again Gae Bolg scratched against metal, this time drawing a thin line in the material. Another swing of a fist, another dodge, Cu raced away, arching across the battlefield, gazed at his opponents.

Emiya hadn’t been kidding when he said the robot was tall.

Rider pointed a hand, “Get him Talus!” 

And suddenly lasers were everywhere, burning into the pavement beneath Cu’s feet. He twisted, spun, ducked, dodged, turned. Unlike his battle with Caster, his Protection from Arrows seemed to be in full effect. He turned his head, caught a glint from the sky, ducked and rolled as Emiya’s arrow came screaming down to impact with Talus’s back. Tauros dashed away from the impact area, Rider clutching his back. Talus took a step forward, unbalanced. Cu caught the glint of another arrow, this time he rushed forwards between the giant’s legs, swinging Gae Bolg with all his might as Emiya’s second arrow collided with the giant robot’s head. He fell, hitting the earth with a massive thud, and Cu took that time to get to work. Talus had plates of armor everywhere, but to be mobile, his joints had to be unimpeded. He targeted those areas, Gae Bolg slicing metal apart as he put all his strength behind his strikes. Metal ripped open with a tortured sound, ichor, golden and oily, sprayed into the air. Talus cried out in pain. 

“Talus!” It was a desperate cry, and Cu turned and jumped out of the way just in time as the white bull came thundering in his direction. This close, he could tell that it too was made of metal, the same type of metal the giant Talus was made of. Rider stood at the edge of the battle field, her semi-transparent dress flapping, one hand held out, the other gripping her harp, her face twisted in worry. 

Her mistake. Cu grinned, wide and fierce and bloodthirsty. He raced away, his fingers sliding across Gae Bolg’s length, his feet hit the pavement, he jumped, drawing his arm back. Something grabbed his ankle in a crushing grip, pulled him back to the ground. It didn’t matter, he’d already released his grip, already thrown his spear, already called the words. Rider’s heart was his. “Gae Bolg!”

He didn’t see the shaft of jerking red light strike, he only saw the world spinning around him. He didn’t hear Rider cry out, he only heard the impact he made against the pavement, the sound his ribs made as they cracked. Above him, the bleeding giant Talus brought his fists up for a final strike. 

“No, Talus! It’s okay,” the words were pained and whispered, and Talus froze. “Both of you stand down.” Cu pushed himself up, ignoring the gritting pain in his side and back as he, the giant, and the bull looked at Rider. She smiled, her white dress stained red. “I was never much of a fighter, even with all of Zeus's gifts. Will you be alright?”

Cu stood, held out a hand, and Gae Bolg jerked out of her chest and flew back into his grasp. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He said, wiping a trickle of blood from the side of his lips.

She closed her eyes, tilted her head to the sky, and smiled. “Then that’s okay then. Good luck.” And then she and her two guards were gone. 

Cu looked up to where Emiya had been.

He wasn’t there either.

Cu winced as his Master’s magic bit into his skin, sinking deeper into his flesh and curling into his broken bones. He was back in his Master’s limousine, and they weren’t happy. Their brows were drawn, their eyes narrowed, their mage craft a bit too sharp, especially for healing magic. Finally, they spoke. “Tell me about Archer.”

Cu’s heart plummeted. It wasn’t that his Master was a bad Master, no, not by a long shot. But neither were they a particularly good Master. No, what they were was competent, as cold blooded as a proper mage should be while being talented in many fields of magic. And what they did know was how to use a Servant. His Master knew he thought and had opinions, and instead of caring about them, they utilized them. It was a cold hearted thing to do, but it wasn’t the worst thing a Master had ever done to him. But still, to hear them ask about Emiya sent a chill down his spine. “What about him?”

“Don’t deny it,” they said, “You know him. So tell me about him.”

Cu’s mouth gaped, and for the first time, he was torn. His Master was demanding that Cu spill all that he knew about Emiya, but Emiya . . . Emiya had trusted him, had trusted him with everything. The least he could do was keep it confidential. “How do you know?” He asked, trying to buy some time, his mind scrambling.

“These past two nights, Archer sent up a flare whenever he went into battle. Whenever you see that flare, you drop everything and run to his aid. Once was curious, but twice is dangerous. You know him, plain as day, and the other Masters will have figured that out to. There will be traps, and we will have to be ready for them. Is he from your myth?”

Cu shrugged, feigning unconcern. He could deal with traps, no it was something different that swirled uneasily in his stomach now. “Yeah, I know him, and he’s not from my myth, not really. And I can’t tell you his name, it won’t mean anything to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s not in any myth.” He felt a sad smile prick at the edges of his mouth, he tried to keep his face blank. “He doesn’t like fighting, so even though he qualifies as a Heroic Spirit, his name isn’t well known.”

“How do you know him?”

Through multiple Holy Grail Wars across time and space. He couldn’t say that, so Cu did something he never did. He lied. “I’ve met him a couple of times, we hit it off and made a deal. Whenever he’d got caught in a battle, I’d bail him out and fight it for him. Seeing his flare, I just went towards it. Habit.” His mouth tasted wrong, sour, he felt sick. He didn’t like lying, not to his Master, not to anyone.

“Will you be able to kill him after this all ends?” 

Cu stiffened, the words sinking into his mind. Yes, he would kill Emiya. Like so many times before, he would kill Emiya. And the thought made him sick. Why? Why? He had fought the red Archer so many times before, and none of those times had the thought of striking the final blow made him sick. He had literally killed the guy in the last Holy Grail War for Pete’s sake! But perhaps it was because he knew more about Emiya now, knew his history, knew his apathy towards battle, perhaps it was this knowledge that made the idea harder to stomach. But it didn’t matter why, the simple matter of the problem was that he didn’t want to see Emiya die. Not again.

Cu wanted to hear Emiya laugh. 

Cu wanted to see Emiya smile.

Cu wanted Emiya to be happy.

Cu didn’t want to see Emiya covered in blood, breathing his last, ever again.

Each thought was like a gunshot, each understanding sinking deeper and deeper. No. No. No. No. No no no nononononononono. How could he not have seen it sooner? How? He cared about Emiya, perhaps more than cared. He was either falling or had fallen and he had no clue how to stop or if he even wanted to stop. It was repetition, a cycle, fate had always thrown him up against the people he loved, Ferdiad, Fergus. Cu was a loyal person, down to the very marrow of his bones, loyal to his friends and family, loyal to his lord and Master. And sometimes those loyalties tore him apart.

Ferdiad, his brother in arms, his lover, who had fought for Medb for the sake of his honor.

Fergus, his adopted father, who had fought for Medb for the sake of his love.

And now it was Emiya. Emiya who he had met time after time again. Emiya who preferred chores and cooking to battle. Emiya, who was his enemy, and would always be his enemy no matter how close they became. And even though these thoughts, these realizations were only surfacing now and would sink in completely later, he knew that Emiya was something to him, meant something to him. Cu knew that he cared about Emiya. Just as he knew they would always be on opposite sides, and one of them or both of them would always die, whether it be by each other's hands or another's.

But he couldn’t say all that, not to his Master. So all he could say to his Master’s inquiry was what they wanted to hear, a simple “Yes.” 

He would have to, he’d done it before. Over and over and over again. Even if he didn’t want to. Even if the very thought made him feel like throwing up. He would have to, he would have to. He didn’t have a choice.

Cu closed his eyes and let the pain of his Master’s healing magic drive away his circling, panicking thoughts.

He was back on the roof of that tall building again, although he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because he needed to see Emiya again, after that revelation. How? Why? When? How was easy, in their situation, it was guaranteed that they would have become at least friends eventually. The better question was how had he not noticed sooner? Perhaps it was because he had hated Emiya for so long, although that thought now left a bitter taste in his mouth. The thought of caring, the thought of loving, was too foreign a concept to assign to a man he had hated so vehemently. Why was easy too. Emiya was attractive, a wonderful fighter, and an amazing cook. But beyond that, he was funny and clever, and he was kind, and even though he’d been through so much, and he’d still managed to keep that kindness, was still able to care. When was the real question? When had it started? He wasn’t sure if there was a definite time, a definite moment, but it had to have started somewhere, right? Right? 

He paced across the rooftop, thoughts swirling, a restless energy humming in his veins. Emiya wasn’t here yet, perhaps he wasn’t coming, perhaps Cu had scared him away. He thought of the sunrise that morning, and realized, too late, just what he’d been about to do. He’d been about to kiss Emiya, been so close to doing it. He could see the whole scene play out in his head, could follow it to the logical conclusion, Emiya’s lips on his as the light of dawn blessed them both. And Emiya had realized it and had panicked and ran. Cu felt so stupid, so, so stupid. He stopped, hands clenched, fists shaking, staring out over the horizon where, almost twenty four hours ago, everything had seemed so right. 

An idiot. 

Emiya was right.

Cu Chulainn was an absolute, fucking idiot.

There was the sound of footsteps on the roof, and Cu twisted, Gae Bolg appearing from nowhere as it plopped into his waiting hands. 

Emiya stood there, in his armor, another box in his hands. He raised one white eyebrow, his breath coming in plumes of fog. Was it that cold already? Cu hadn’t noticed. “Jumpy tonight, aren’t we?” Emiya’s voice was warm, and the sound of it eased some of the turmoil within Cu’s mind and heart.

He stood, let Gae Bolg disappear, and rubbed his hair awkwardly. He tried to look everywhere but at Emiya, but the task was impossible, it was as if his eyes were drawn to the other man’s face. His half smile, his raised eyebrows, the warmth of his grey eyes. If Cu had scared him away with his almost kiss that morning, it didn’t show on Emiya’s face now. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

Emiya narrowed his eyes, then walked by Cu, pressing the box into his hands and then sitting on the edge of the roof. “Yeah, well, eat up.”

Cu stared at the box in his hands, his mind whirling.

Cu didn’t believe in soulmates. Emer and him had had a pretty open relationship when they were alive, neither of them had slept around to the insane amount Fergus and Medb had, but the two of them hadn’t just loved each other. There had been plenty of people in his life, both men and women, but Ferdiad and Emer had been the biggest ones. In the end, however, he had always come back to Emer, just as she had always come back to him. So soulmates? No. But love? Yes, Cu believed in love. And he knew that it meant something that Emiya had come back, even though he wasn’t sure what it meant yet.

Beyond the fact that he hadn’t scared him away, which was almost good enough. 

Emiya glanced back at him, his grey eyes narrowed slightly, his lips pulled into a small, teasing grin. “Hello? Earth to Cu? Are you in there?”

Cu blinked, shook himself out of his tangled thoughts, then moved over to sit beside Emiya. “Food again?” He said, cheerfully, as if the turmoil inside was nothing, “You’re spoiling me. Not that I’m complaining.”

Emiya snorted. 

Cu just sent him a grin, ripping open the package, thinking that he should have sat a little bit farther away. There was plenty of room, but he had sat so their shoulders and legs occasionally bumped, and he wasn’t going to move now. No matter, if Emiya didn’t like him sitting this close, then he would ask Cu to move, or scoot away himself. But he didn’t, and their shoulders and legs brushed against each other with each movement they made. Cu, with effort, turned his thoughts back to his food before Emiya could pick up on them, and his jaw dropped at the sight. It wasn’t just a couple of scraps like last night, it was a full freaking five course meal, with a main dish and everything. He turned towards Emiya, taking in the forced blankness in his grey-eyed gaze. “Leftovers?” He asked wryly, red eyes dancing.

“Leftovers.” Emiya agreed, the tips of his ears stained red. 

“Your Master must have the appetite of a sparrow.” Cu said, smirking.

“He does.” Emiya answered, and now his own grey eyes danced with good humor.

Cu grinned again, turned back towards his meal. It was, he realized, the same thing kid Emiya had made him in that peculiar Holy Grail War. He was salivating, he knew he was, and he wasn’t going to try to stop himself, it would have been a futile endeavor. Instead, he started eating. The first bite touched his tongue, and his taste buds exploded. Not literally, but it felt like it. Cu moaned. This dish had been good before, so how had Emiya made it taste even better? That should have been impossible. “Please, for the love of Lugh, marry me Emiya.” He breathed, already going for his fifth bite.

Emiya stilled, then smirked. “Sure.”

Cu choked.

Well, choked was an understatement. It was more that Cu heard the word he hadn’t expected Emiya to say, inhaled his current bite of fish in surprise, and almost died of asphyxiation. All while his face rapidly turned the color of a tomato, not only from lack of air, but from surprise, and perhaps a little bit of embarrassment. Of all the things Emiya could have said, ‘Sure’ wasn’t anywhere on the list Cu had thought up off. So now he was choking on a piece of salmon because Emiya might have maybe just possibly accepted Cu’s unintentional marriage proposal.

And to make matters worse, instead of helping with his plight, Emiya rescued the food that had caused this whole mess in the first place as he burst into laughter. It was the type of laughter that started as chuckles which transformed into guffaws that dissolved into strangled snorts. It was joyous and honest and it made Cu’s heart dance, which would have been wonderful in any other situation where he wasn’t currently choking on a piece of salmon. Emiya grabbed Cu’s shoulder and started pounding his back, finally finishing his mission of rescuing the meal and starting the mission of saving Cu’s life and pride as a hero. 

If anything, this made the whole thing worse, because Emiya was laughing so hard that he became unbalanced, which isn’t the best situation when you’re sitting on the edge of a tall building, and what had started as keeping Cu from choking to death quickly became a scramble to keep them on the building and not becoming a splat on the street below. Finally, finally, they managed to get their respective problems under control, although the end result was Cu half in and half out of Emiya’s lap, his hands clinging to the Archer’s strong shoulders, while one of Emiya’s hands was flat on his back and the other wrapped around his upper arm, Emiya laughing and Cu coughing and gasping.

Cu, once he was able to breath properly, looked up. It was a mistake. Emiya was still chuckling, a wide smile stretching his face. It was such an honest, open smile, that Cu’s heart melted. Time seemed to slow to a crawl then freeze in place. The world ceased to exist. It was only Cu and Emiya, hearts beating together, breathing billowing in the cold air. But Cu wasn’t cold, he was warm, a heat that thrummed in his veins and amplified his senses. He could feel Emiya's hand against his back, the fingers spread, supporting him, and through the thin fabric of his armor, his skin tingled at the touch. The same went for where Emiya’s hand was wrapped around Cu’s upper arm. He could feel the muscles in Emiya’s back and shoulders through his jacket and shirt, he could smell his scent, heavy and intoxicating, apples and baked goods, his eyes were drawn towards Emiya’s smile, his lips. All his confusion and worry from earlier was driven away in the moment, this moment where it was just the two of them, clinging to each other as if afraid to let go. 

Emiya’s chuckles finally dissolved into snort’s, and he opened his eyes, staring down at Cu. His grey eyes, not grey this close, gold and brown and grey, beautiful, glistened with humor, and tears were gathered at the corners from his long bout of laughter. His lips were still stretched into that smile, and Cu wanted this moment to last forever, always. Forget the Holy Grail War, this was what mattered, this right here. “You, Cu,” he said, his voice light and warm and amused.

Cu’s heart skipped a beat, his fingers flexed automatically into Emiya’s jacket, twisting the fabric. “Yeah?” He breathed, the word hanging in the cold air between them.

Emiya closed his eyes and shook his head, still smiling. “You should have seen your face. Absolutely priceless. God, I’ve never seen your face that shade of red.” He started to crack up again.

Cu blushed, hard, embarrassed beyond belief. But he couldn’t stop his eyes from tracing the scars on Emiya’s face. His fingers itched to run over the one below Emiya’s eye, to touch the one at the corner of his lip. To appease his itching fingers, he started to rub circles into Emiya’s shoulders, feeling the fabric of his jacket shift and pull with each moment. “You caught me off guard,” he said defensively, “I wasn’t expecting you to -”

“What? Joke back?” Emiya said, leaning forwards just slightly, his smile transforming into his customary smirk. But there was playfulness in the glint of his eyes, the tilt of his lips. His lips . . . “Don’t tell me the great Cu Chulainn can’t take what he dishes out?”

Cu flushed harder, now slightly annoyed at himself. Emiya did have a point. Here Cu was, basically in Emiya’s arms, and he was a flustered mess. He had to get control of himself, now, otherwise he would be leaning forwards to close the gap between their faces, and then Emiya might panic and run away again. And he didn’t want that, no, he didn’t want that at all. So all Cu did was lick his dry lips and raise one eyebrow. “What makes you think I was joking?” He made sure to keep his tone light and playful, to keep the hunger out of it. 

Emiya raised an eyebrow right back, his words were immediate and amused. “You would only want me for my cooking.” 

“That’s not true,” Cu said, pretending to be affronted.

“And maybe my sparring abilities,” Emiya acquiesced. 

“Oh Emiya~,” Cu said, and, try as he might, his gaze once again drifted to Emiya’s lips, and he couldn’t stop the littlest bit of desire from making its way into his voice, “I’m certain there are other things you’re good at that I would enjoy immensely.”

Emiya froze, his wondrous, glorious, grey and gold and brown eyes widening as he, finally, realized where their important struggle with salmon and laughter had left them. He didn’t quite drop Cu, as that would have resulted with Cu falling to the street below, but his face did go red, a glowing, almost luminescent red, and he gently moved Cu around so he was safely on the rooftop “Yeah - well - I - uh -” He mumbled, looking away awkwardly.

Cu released his grip on Emiya’s jacket and slapped his shoulder, grinning, acting as he hadn’t been about to kiss Emiya senseless. “Thanks for the save, by the way, I did not want to add death by salmon to my list of accomplishments.” He stepped away, collected his meal from where Emiya had shepherded it to safety, and stepped back, sitting beside the Archer once again, this time not as close as he had before. That . . . would not have been a good idea, not really, not yet, at least. “Now,” he said, waving his fork around, “It is time to demolish this wonderful testament to my prowess on the battlefield.”

Emiya was recovering, his face not as red, his eyes fixed on the city. “That stuff nearly killed you.”

“Your fault,” Cu countered around a mouthful of food.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful.” Emiya said immediately.

Cu stuck his tongue out, but alas, Emiya wasn’t paying attention to him anymore.

The two fell into silence, lost in their own thoughts, the air between them filled with tension. Cu didn’t remember moving, but sometime while he was eating, his elbow had started brushing against Emiya’s arm again. Even that simple touch was enough to send sparks skittering up his arm. There was no doubt about it, he wasn’t falling, he had fallen, and that was that. He was in love with Emiya. There was nothing for it now. The only question was did Emiya feel the same way? And, unfortunately, Cu couldn’t use Emiya’s blushes as evidence. Emiya blushed when he was hit on, that was just how he was, whether it was Cu or another person. Cu remembered the time they had encountered that Assassin a few Holy Grail Wars back. What had her name been .  . . Mati Hari? Well, just talking to her for two minutes was enough to send Emiya into a flaming mess. 

So he couldn’t use Emiya’s blushes as clues.

No, the only way, the best way, to go about finding out the truth would be to ask. And he almost did, he almost opened his mouth to ask, but he froze. What would it accomplish? Knowing what Emiya thought of him would mean nothing in the long run. No, they would always be enemies, unless they managed to end up in another Holy Grail War like that odd one, but with their luck, that was unlikely. So, did it matter if Emiya liked him back? Because in the end they would always end up on the opposite side of each other's blades. 

Cu glanced at Emiya, to where his wonderful eyes were fixed on the horizon. He took in the way he sat, legs dangling off the edge of the roof, leaning forwards slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin tucked into the palm of one hand. The wind played with his hair, his breath billowed out into the cold air. Emiya, who had trusted him with his background, with his tortured past. Emiya, who didn’t like fighting but fought anyway to save lives. Emiya, who cared despite himself.

Yes, it did matter. He couldn’t go forever like this, wondering, wishing. He wouldn’t go on like this, he’d go crazy. He had to ask. One way or another, he would find his answer. He opened his mouth, ready to ask his question, then Emiya spoke, his voice soft and vulnerable. “I thought you were dead.”
“What.” The word was out before Cu could stop it, the dissonance between Emiya’s words and his own thoughts painful. 

“I thought you were dead,” Emiya repeated, straightening, meeting Cu’s gaze. “When Talus grabbed your ankle and yanked you to the ground, I thought you were dead.” His eyes darkened. “I’m glad you’re not.”

Cu licked his lips again, a bit nervously. “Yeah, me too,” He tried on one of his customary smiles, “But I’m tougher than that. You should know that, better than most.”

Emiya smirked, his gaze lightened. “I do.”

Cu moved his empty box from his lap onto the rooftop and twisted so he was facing Emiya. “Still,” he said cheerfully, “I owe Rider one.” He hesitated, stared into Emiya’s eyes, then said softly, “Are you going to watch the sunrise with me again?”

Emiya froze, then smiled, a soft, slightly nervous smile. “You know, I think I will.” He looked at the horizon, looked back at Cu. “What you said, while the sun was rising, I don’t fully understand it. I know you’re Ireland’s Child of Light, and I know bits and parts of your story, but I don’t know all of it . . .” He trailed off, the meaning of his words clear. He had told Cu his story, he was hoping Cu would tell him his.

For a long time Cu didn’t answer, just stared at Emiya, drinking in his soft gaze, the sculpt of his face, the many nicks and scars. Then he answered, “Yeah, I don’t mind. My father is Lugh, the most powerful god, and one of his domains is the sun and light. It’s why I glow, and I’m warmer than pretty much everyone I’ve ever met, and I also have a little bit of fire resistance. You know, demigod stuff. I didn’t really know him, but when the sun rises, I like to say hi, to greet him as if he’s actually there with me.” He shrugged, playing it off, “So you could say my story started with him and my mom, but it really started when I was a child . . .'' So until the sun rose, he filled Emiya in. The prophecy, his knighthood, Emer, Scáthach, Medb, Fergus, Ferdiad, all the major players. He spoke of his adventures until the sun turned the sky into a masterpiece and it’s light bathed them both. His voice broke on some of the words, shook when he spoke of Ferdiad’s death, tightened when he spoke of his own. And Emiya sat there through it all, watching him, not judging, just soaking in the information, as the sun rose to transform the world again.

He didn’t get to ask how Emiya felt about him.

This time it was not Emiya’s beacon that heralded his battle. This time he felt the Servant’s presence and went with his Master’s permission. This time, when he skidded to where the Servant lay in wait, he only got a glimpse before Berserker sprung into action. A young woman, white hair, skin laced with scars, a muscled build, two giant freaking balls of flaming death on a chain. Then he was moving, dodging, spinning away from her attacks.

He was faster than her, that much was clear, but she was an expert with those ridiculous fire flails, using them to tangle Gae Bolg and stall his attacks and blocks. The most he could get were scratches and nicks, but she ignored those, focusing on him with the single minded attention of an experienced warrior. He disentangled his spear from her chain once again, retreated, feet dancing backwards as she raged forwards, one of the spiked, flaming spheres crashing into the ground his feet had been moments earlier, cracking open the earth, the other spinning towards his head. Cu ducked under it, planted the but of Gae Bolg into the ground, lept into the air as her second flaming sphere was yanked out of the ground and up. He twisted to avoid another strike, grinning widely. His feet touched the ground, and barely a millisecond later he was moving in for the strike. She twirled around to face him, wrapped her chain around Gae Bolg, and yanked him off his feet. He was sent flying, slammed into the ground, something cracked.

Oh yes, he was faster, but she was most definitely stronger.

He got up, wiped his mouth, “You’re good, very skilled for a Berserker.”

The woman smirked, and he could see an echo of his own blood thirst in the movement. “I would hope so.” She said, and her voice was rough with a wild growl. Then she jerked her arms, and Cu was desperately dodging the flaming spheres of doom once again.

One hit with those, and he knew he wouldn’t be getting up. He also couldn’t block, she would just power through his defenses. No, this was not a battle that was going to be won by strength or speed alone. He grinned, wide and violent, his feet skidding across the ground, using Gae Bolg to spin him around so he could run at her again. She dodged, once again pulling the chains up to block and tangle his spear, this time, Cu was ready. He pulled back and reversed his strike, hitting her with the end of his spear instead of his tip. It was a well aimed strike too, it struck her temple. Unfortunately, she didn’t stumble back, or even blink, she just kicked him. He’d been expecting that too, had tried to dodge, but there was a very good reason the tops of her boots had those massive spikes. He felt it enter his side, felt it puncture his lung, he was sent spinning across the pavement again, rolling as he gasped for breath. He pushed himself up, looked to see Berserker leap at him, both balls of fury doom headed straight for his head. He planted Gae Bolg’s tip in the ground, used it to flip himself out of the way. She hit the earth like a meteor, there was a tremendous crash,  the spray of shattered rock. 

Berserker straightened in the crater she had created, the dust settling on her skin and in her hair. 

She caught Cu’s eyes, and grinned. “Nice dodge.”

Cu grinned back. “Doing pretty well yourself,” he said, ignoring his cracked rib and punctured lung. “I’m glad to have been able to fight you, Berserker. You’re as strong as you are beautiful.”

“Lancer,” said his Master in horrified tones, “You did not just do that!”

Berserker bowed her head, her shoulder’s stiffening.

“Do what? I was just complimenting her.” He hadn’t been flirting, not really, not after what he had discovered about how he felt about Emiya. Emiya  . . . was he watching this now? Or was he stuck with Caster? He hoped Emiya was watching, he had been putting a little bit more flair into his movements than normal just in case he was.

There was a low vibration in the air, like a muffled growl.

“You need to get out of there, now, Lancer.”

Berserker's fingers clenched tighter on her chain.

“I don’t understand, do you know who that is?”

Berserker looked up, her bloodthirsty grin transformed into a snarling visage.

“Ugh!” They yelled back, their calm utterly shattered. “I told you this earlier, so apparently you weren’t listening. That’s Penthesila, Queen of the Amazons, the one Achilles dishonored after their duel by praising her looks instead of her fighting skills. And guess what you just did!”

Her eyes were wrong when she focused on Cu. The sclera black, the irises grey, her pupils a violent red that made it look like her eyes were on fire. Her teeth had sharpened, her growl rose to be more than just a vibration. 

“Oh.” He thought, then he shifted his stance, getting ready for the storm that was headed in his direction. He wasn’t running, he was Cu Chulainn, Ireland’s Child of Light, he didn’t run from fights. “Well then, Penthesila, are you done playing around?” He smirked, his blood lust growing. Okay, so he might have made a mistake, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy that mistake, right?

Penthesila, roared, and the ground shook. “ACHILLES!!” The word was a furious snarl that raised itself into a bellow. It was so hate filled that Cu took a reflexive step back, a thread of nervousness slipping into his battle lust. “ACHILLES!!” He didn’t see her move, he was already dodging, but he felt the earth shake as she leapt out of her crater, her feet hitting the ground with a huge boom. She turned to Cu, still growling. Gone was the warrior queen, now a raging animal stood in her place. Well, she was a Berserker, and this was closer to what he had been expecting.

She lunged at him, faster then she had been previously, swinging her two flaming spheres in his direction. He wasn’t fast enough to dodge this time, so he swung up Gae Bolg to block. The chains bent around his spear, one fire spiky death headed towards his head, another crashing towards his feat. Cu leapt curling into a ball, spheres passing above his head and below his feet, wrapping around Gae Bolg. Penthesila yanked, he let go instead of allowing himself to be pulled within her reach. He landed on the ground panting, rolling, as his spear went flying across the battlefield. His little trick hadn’t left him unscathed, he had a nasty cut across his back, and another one on the sole of his foot. Both scratches had the additional pleasure of being burned, although those burns weren’t as bad as they could have been. He needed to thank his father when the sun rose next, oh yes, he definitely needed to thank him. Penthesilia ran at him again, screaming her fury, Cu got ready to move, held out one hand. Gae Bolg jerked back into his grip, flying towards him from where it lay so far away, cutting a nasty gash in Penthesilia’s side as it did so. It didn't deter her, once again her twin spiky, fiery spheres headed towards his head. He ran out of the way, feet slipping and tripping over the broken ground. The gash in Penthesilia’s side bleed freely, standing her skin red. Cu’s own slash across his back burned, his ribs ached, his breath gurgled, the injury to his sole flared up with every step he took, but at least he was no longer unarmed. 

Cu grinned. 

This was a good battle, scratch that, this was a great battle.

He could hear Penthesilia chasing him, her angry growl, her furious roar. He twirled around, turning his retreat into an attack. Gae Bolg struck towards her, red tip glinting in the moonlight. She ran into it, continued forwards, her fiery eyes narrowed. Cu tried to back up, one of her hands reached out, the claws attached to her arm punctured through his shoulder, then fiery, spiky death descended from above. 

He almost managed to dodge, but almost never counted in battle. 

Penthesilia’s ball and chain impacted his chest. He was knocked to the ground, spikes driven through his body, flame’s licking his flesh, all of his ribs crushed, a few turned to powder. She pulled her claws out of his shoulder, stood shaking, her face shadowed, Gae Bolg sticking through her stomach and protruding from her back. She started to laugh, a hysterical sound, wild and lost. “Finally . . . Achilles . . . you have paid for dishonoring my life . . . I have had my revenge . . .”

Cu, teeth gritted, reached out and grabbed Gae Bolg again, keeping her there, preventing her escape. Over Penthesillia’s shoulder, there was a flash of light, like a descending star. “Yeah,” he managed, “You did good. It was a brilliant battle.”

She looked at him, the wildness was gone from her face. She was smiling, tears gathered at the corner of her eyes. “Yes, I know.”

And then the world dissolved into light.

The first surprise was that he woke up. The second surprise was that his head was being cradled in somebody’s lap. The last surprise was that somebody was speaking rapidly to him, their voice was ranging widely from scared to pissed. “You idiot, you absolute idiot. God, what am I going to do with you?” A thumb ran across his cheekbone, the touch sent shivers down his spine.

His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself staring up into Emiya’s pissed off and worried face, his marvelous, wide eyes. “Emiya?”

“Who else would it be?” He snapped, his voice shaking slightly. “I sometimes think . . .” he trailed off, shook his head, then fixed Cu with those glorious eyes of his. “You,” he said, his voice back under control, “Need to stop antagonizing your opponents! One of these days it’s going to get you killed!”

Cu attempted to look down at the damage so he could make a snide comment about how it had already caused his death, but Emiya grabbed his chin and forced him to stay still. “Don’t look. Trust me, it’s bad.” He sighed, heavily, “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” His other hand stroked Cu’s hair absently, the motion soothing. Didn’t stop Cu from being vaguely annoyed that Emiya had gotten to touch his hair before he had gotten to touch Emiya’s, but he still leaned into the touch, relishing it.

Cu closed his eyes, and opened them again. “Lesson learned,” he croaked, “the only person I’ll be calling beautiful from now on is you, Emiya~.”

Emiya’s face went red. “Shut up,” he growled, “You’ve lost the privilege of speaking to me. Especially like . . . like that.”

Cu laughed, a short, pained bark. His eyes traveled across Emiya’s face, the many scars, the line of his nose, the cut of his cheekbones, the shadow in his grey and gold and brown eyes, the tightness in his lips. Perhaps it was blood loss, perhaps it was lack of air, but his decision was made. He was Cu Chulainn, and he didn’t hesitate, on or off the battlefield. “Emiya . . .” He breathed, because even that one word was hard to get out.

Worry flashed across Emiya’s face, he leaned closer. “What?”

With the last of his remaining strength, Cu jerked up, pressing his lips to Emiya’s, his one working arm wrapping around Emiya’s back, fingers threading through his hair. Emiya’s hair was soft and thick, his lips warm, and Cu felt a wild note of delight and desire slip into his dying form. But he kept the kiss simple, gentle, nothing too desperate or needy, just their lips pressed together in Cu’s dying moments. 

Emiya stiffened, and Cu didn’t know whether it was in shock or disgust or what, so he pulled back, just slightly, so their breaths mingled. His vision was fuzzy, the colors smeared and whirled. He couldn’t see Emiya’s face, his expression, no matter how much he wanted to. “See you around, Emiya~” He breathed, his voice fading as his body collapsed into shimmering motes.

Leaving Emiya alone among the shattered remains of the battlefield.

Chapter Text

Cu didn’t run from battle, not unless his Master had certain requirements that made it so he had to run. He fought, and he fought fiercely, pouring his heart and soul into the clash of weapons, the confrontation between heroes from different ages and countries. He loved to fight, craved it, it was the reason why he always answered a summons. So no, Cu Chulainn didn’t run from battle. Which made this situation all the more odd. “Master! Please, for the love of Lugh, you can’t make me do this!”

“Lancer!” Came his Master’s voice, “What are you doing?! You’re supposed to be fighting, not running away!”

“I am aware of that!” Cu thought back, feet and arms pumping, a panicked expression on his face, not daring to look over his shoulder. It didn’t matter, he could hear the clatter of wheels and hoof beats on the pavement. His opponent was not far behind him, yet still unable to close the gap. Thank Lugh. “And in any other situation, I would completely agree! But this is that one exception!”

A voice came from behind him, just managing to reach his ears. A cheerful, bubbly voice, one that sent shivers crawling down his spine. “Oh Cu~! Where do you think you’re going~?”

Cu put on another burst of speed. “Master, please!”

“Fine! Retreat then! You will explain this, Lancer.”

Understood, Master!” He yelped, relief obvious in his voice. Then he slipped into spirit form, racing as fast as he could towards his Master's side. Would his explanation be satisfactory? He could only hope so. And he hoped beyond hope that Rider would die before he met her on the battlefield again. 

He doubted his luck was that good. 

Rider pulled the reins on her chariot, slowing it down to a stop. For a few seconds she sat there, fingers gripping the reins, staring out in the direction Cu had disappeared to, annoyance painted on her delicate face. Then she smiled, “This time, this time for sure.” Then with a cluck of her tongue and a snap of her reins, she too slipped into spirit form.

Later, much later, when the sun was just touching the horizon, Cu finally found his way to the tallest rooftop in the city again. It was the same as the last Holy Grail War, except Emiya wasn't here, and Cu didn’t know if he would come. The memory of that kiss rose in his mind, the softness of Emiya’s lips, the way he had frozen up. Had Cu scared him away? Was he gone forever now, nothing but an enemy? He hoped not, he desperately hoped not, just as he couldn’t really bring himself to regret the kiss, not yet, at least. He’d made his move, and now Emiya would make his.

And if that move was to ignore Cu, to act as if they were enemies once again, then yeah, Cu would regret the kiss, if only because it pushed Emiya away.

He held himself still, watching the sun as it crawled up the sky. He wanted to say “hello father”, like it was an ordinary day. But it wasn’t an ordinary day, it was the dawn of the second day of the first Holy Grail War after the kiss. So all he could do was stand there and reach up to run his fingers across his lips and remember the feeling of Emiya’s lips against his. He felt a bubble of giddiness rise up in his chest, and he grinned. 

There was a shift in the air, sudden and abrupt, Cu turned, then Emiya’s voice, blanker than Cu had ever heard it. “Don’t you dare move.” 

Cu froze, keeping his eyes forward, even as warmth curled in his chest at the sound of Emiya’s voice. “Hey Emiya~” He said, lightly, happily, a bit giddily. He had come, Cu hadn’t scared him away, he had come. He had come. 

Footsteps on the rooftop, but Cu didn’t move. He could hear Emiya step up behind him, smell the familiar scent of apples and baked goods. He sucked in a big breath, warmth buzzing in his veins. Emiya moved, fast as only a Heroic Spirit could, and then one of his arms was wrapped around Cu’s waist, and cold metal touched Cu’s throat. “You, Cu, have a lot of explaining to do,” he whispered into Cu’s ear. 

This time, his voice wasn’t blank, this time, it was mind numbingly furious.

Cu suddenly felt like he might have made a slight mistake, and he tried not to enjoy the press of Emiya’s body against him too much. He was failing, he was most definitely failing. “Explain what?” He whispered back, leaning slightly away from the blade at his throat. 

“You know exactly what,” Emiya growled, his lips brushing against Cu’s ear.

Cu’s shivered, a bolt of electricity crackling down his spin. Mindlessly, he took a shuffling step back. Emiya didn’t move, his blade didn’t waver. They were pressed together now, not an inch of space between them. Cu could hear Emiya’s breathing in his ear, feel his chest as it rose and fell with each breath. “Well,” he said, swallowing, “I would think that what I did was obvious,” his voice dropped a fraction, husky, “I kissed you, Emiya,” he licked his lips, “I -” but before he could continue, to get out what he wanted to say, Emiya interrupted him.

His voice shook slightly, strained, the wild note of anger still present. “Cu Chulainn, you have flirted with one third of the heroic spirits we have encountered over these Holy Grail Wars. You have, most likely, made out with at least one of them.” Which was true, and they both knew it. “So, you - kissing me - I -” His voice cracked, and then his grip on his blade loosed, his head thunked against the back of Cu’s own. “I don’t know what it means,” he said, his voice quiet and desperate, almost pleading.

Cu closed his eyes, tried to focus on his words and not the way Emiya was pressed against him. It was hard to do. “Emiya,” he said softly, “I like you. I like you alot. I like your smile, and your smirk, and your laugh, and I like the fact that you care about more than just the fight. I like how clever you are, and your sense of humor. I like the way you take whatever I give you and throw it back in my face, whether we’re fighting with words or with blades. I like it when you’re peaceful, when you look as if you’ve lost all that weight you carry around on your shoulders, and I want to see you like that more often. I lo-” He babbled, words getting faster and faster, and he wasn’t sure if he could stop or even wanted too, but then Emiya cut him off, placing his now empty hand across Cu’s mouth. 

“God,” Emiya said softly, “What a pair of idiots.” He sighed, heavily, then let out a single tired laugh. “I should be angry at you, you know, you don’t just kiss a person without asking and then die!” His voice rose, once again there was a trace of wildness in it.

“Sorry,” Cu mouthed against Emiya’s palm, feeling the calluses scrape against his lips.

Emiya shivered. Slowly, he removed his hand, letting it dangle beside him. Cu wanted to reach out and grab it, to intertwine his fingers with his. “You, Cu, are going to be the death of me.” His voice was very quiet.

“I already have been,” Cu joked, forcing his desire down. Not now, not yet.

“You really mean it?” Emiya asked, his voice small, a whisper. “What you said about . . . about me?”

“Yes,” Cu breathed, “I love you, Emiya. I love you.” It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, from his chest, he laughed, wild and delighted. “I love you!”

Emiya started to chuckle, an almost disbelieving, surprised chuckle “ . . . well, I guess I don’t hate you.” He said, amusement and something that was quite possibly delight bubbling in his voice, then it darkened. “But I’m still annoyed that you left me with Caster.”

Cu smiled, feeling delight burn in his chest. Emiya didn’t hate him, and that tone of voice, well, Cu knew it, he knew it very well. “Oh yes, how did that go?”

“Great,” Emiya’s voice was dry, he tucked his chin on to Cu’s shoulder, “I got frozen in a block of ice and was then shattered into itty bitty pieces. Best battle ever. Now, are you going to tell me about Rider?”

Cu winced, “You saw that?” 

“Yes, I saw the great Cu Chulainn running from a battle. The sight did a lot to alleviate some of my anger with you.” His voice rose again, but the anger was gone, just amusement with a trace of annoyance.

Cu groaned, giving up the fight and moving his hand so he could trace patterns onto Emiya’s arm, still wrapped tight around his waist. “That,” he said, voice tight, “was Medb. Trust me, whatever noble phantasm she has, it won’t be good for either you or me.”

“That was Mebd?” Emiya yelped, shocked. “She wasn’t what I was expecting.” He chuckled, and Cu could feel the vibration against his back. “Not at all.”

“Yeah,” Cu said, moving so he could grasp Emiya’s hand with his free one. “Let’s not talk about Medb. I’ve already had a very long talk with my Master about her.” He shuddered at the thought, and then forced some cheerfulness into his tone, switching the topic. It was an easy thing to do, there were plenty of more delightful things to talk about that weren’t related to Medb. “This is nice, we should do it more often.” Preferably with less clothing.

“Hmmm,” Emiya said, twining his fingers with Cu’s, and it felt so right, holding Emiya’s hand. He wanted to do it more often, he needed to do it more often. “I’m not quite sure I’m ready to forgive you yet.”

“Anything you want, I’ll do,” Cu said, voice serious.

“Anything?” Emiya murmured against his ear, and Cu shivered.

“Anything,” this time his voice was husky, the word a whispered breath.

“Hmm,” and then suddenly, Cu was being spun around, and Emiya’s lips crashed against his. This wasn’t a soft, gentle kiss like before. No, this was desperate, needy. One of Emiya’s hand’s threaded through his hair, the other clutched at his back. Cu could taste him, and he tasted how he smelled, like apples and baked goods. And then as suddenly as it started, it ended, and Emiya was pulling back. Cu tried to follow him, but Emiya moved his hand from Cu’s hair to cover his mouth once again. He was panting, his grey and gold and brown eyes shining, his pupils dilated, his ears and face stained red. 

“I thought,” Cu murmured against Emiya’s palm, smiling, “That kissing someone without asking first was a no no.”

Emiya shivered, he looked at Cu with heat in his gaze. “Yeah, well, that was revenge.” His voice was low, it sent shivers down Cu’s spine.

“Should I be ready for more vengeance?” Cu asked cheekily, leaning forwards even with Emiya’s palm in the way.

Emiya smirked, his wonderful eyes dancing, “Maybe.” And the single word was filled with promise. Then he retreated into spirit form, and Cu stumbled forwards on the rooftop, head swiveling left and right, his whole body tingling, a wide, delighted grin on his face.

There was an explosion of air, and Cu moved as a ball of silver metal and red lighting plummeted down from the top of one of the shipping crates towards the spot where he’d been standing moments before. He was at the docks, and his Master had been adamant about drawing people out to fight. He had yet to see Emiya’s flare, and he was hoping that he could finish this fight before it did pop up. But now, he had to deal with the form that was uncurling from it’s crouch.

“Evening,” Cu said cheerfully, he’d been cheerful ever since Emiya’s kiss. His lips still tingled from it. “How are you doing?”

The form pulled himself up to his full height, which was way shorter than Cu’s, a figure in silver and red and black metal, with a large, horned helm, wielding a giant red and silver bastard sword. “Way better than you’ll be doing in a few moments, Lancer.” Saber said in a voice that was vaguely familiar.

“Wow,” Cu said dryly, “So confident, and we haven’t even traded blows yet. Perhaps your helmet is on a bit too tight.” He shifted his stance, got ready, a grin crawling onto his face. He could already tell that he’d enjoy this battle.

“Hah! You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Saber laughed back, and for a second, Cu thought he glimpsed the eyes behind the visor, then Saber was rocketing forwards in a burst of red lightning. 

Cu twisted and swung Gae Bolg in front of the descending bastard sword. Saber hit him with a crash, and Cu strained as sparks flew around them both, Gae Bolg bending from the strength of Saber’s swing. The ground beneath him cracked from the impact, and Cu, with a heave, tossed Saber off him and went in for the strike. Gae Bolg smashed into the bastard sword, and Saber threw himself forwards, crashing into Cu. It was a foolhardy, stupid move, and Cu wasn’t expecting it, at all. Saber’s horned helm smashed into his face, and he was sent skidding back as his vision went white. By the time it cleared, Saber was already there, his sword arching in for another wild strike. This time, Cu didn’t try to block, this time he dodged, then immediately switched to an attack. Saber swung, lightning trailing from his blade, and Cu was forced to pull his attack short, the tip of Gae Bolg glancing off Saber’s armor as he ran past him. There was a woosh, he ducked and rolled, caught a glimpse of something silver and red as it flew past his head.

Had Saber just thrown his sword?

It seemed impossible, but as soon as he was on his feet again, he saw Saber descending from above, red lightning trailing from his armored limbs, ready to crush Cu with fist and feet alone. Cu grinned, planted the but of Gae Bolg in the ground, ready for impact. Saber fell on him, there was the sound of armor shattering, then a fist hit his cheek with enough force to crack the bone and a knee hit his ribs and a spike was driven through the top of his foot, and then Gae bolg was ripped out of his hands and Cu was struggling to breathe, the blinding pain in his cheek making it hard to see. 

Saber stood a little ways away, one of his shoulder pauldrons shattered, Gae Bolg Sticking through his flesh. Then, to Cu’s shock, he began to laugh. “Ballsy move there Lancer,” he ripped Gae Bolg out of his shoulder, holding it in one hand, his pauldron reforming. His helmet started to unlock, dropping down to become part of his armor. He was grinning, a wide, violent, bloodthirsty grin. “I would have done the same thing myself.”

Cu froze.

Because he knew that face. It was Artoria’s face, and it was Artoria’s voice. Yes, there were differences, this Saber’s face was wilder, a bit sharper, the eyes fiercer. Artoria had mostly been calm and composed, her hair in that bun of hers, radiating complete control of every situation. This Saber’s face was as expressive as Cu’s, hair pulled back into a tangled ponytail with braids, eyes wild and shining. This Saber fought differently, Artoria had been strong, but she always made sure to defend as well as attack. This Saber threw away caution and did whatever the hell he wanted, choosing power over self preservation, fighting more like a Berserker than a Saber.

Mordred, this Saber had to be Mordred, there wasn’t anyone else he could be.

“What?” He continued, “Cat got your tongue? Or are you missing your spear?” He waggled Gae Bolg tauntingly.

“Don’t worry,” Cu shot back, “I’ll get it back in a minute.” Then Gae Bolg was a bolt of jagged light, heading straight towards his hands.

Mordred didn’t let go, and he crashed into Cu, feet first into his rib cage, there was an audible crack, and Cu was driven back, his breath whooshing out in a great, pained gasp, but now Gae Bolg was in his hand, and he recovered his feet and raced back to attack. Mordred blocked with one gauntleted fist, still grinning, and punched him again. But Cu wasn’t there, running around to slash at his unprotected back. Mordred twisted, kicked, his heel hit Cu’s knee with a crunching sound. Then in a burst of red lighting, he was gone, and then he was back, his sword back in his two hands and he was swinging down at Cu, teeth gritted with effort. Cu barely managed to duck out of the way, his injured knee impeding his movement, his foot throbbing. Cu noticed briefly that Saber was still using both hands. Both hands! Saber still had a gaping hole in his shoulder and he was still using that arm! “You’re one tough bastard, aren’t you?” He gritted out, Gae Bolg’s tip impacting Mordred’s other pauldron, crack’s spread across the metal, but it didn’t give.

“Of course I am!” He yelled back, his helm clicking back into place to cover his head, his sword swinging in a wide arc, crackling with lighting, as Cu danced and weaved around his strikes, using Gae Bolg to deflect instead of block. “I’m the strongest Saber!”

Cu twisted out of the way of another attack, not quite far enough, a slice drew itself across his side. He turned, struck, this time Gae Bolg shattered Mordred’s armor and penetrated his side. Mordred continued forwards with a pained growl, swinging his sword in a wild arc towards his head. He tried to dodge, but wasn’t wasn’t fast enough, and the red and silver bastard sword cleaved into his shoulder. He cried out, yanked Gae Bolg away, retreated quickly, catching his breath, ready for the next attack. Mordred turned towards him, the air screamed, something shot towards where Mordred stood, impacting in a burst of flames. 

Cu’s heart leapt in his chest. Emiya, it was Emiya. Was he watching? How long had he been there? His grin stretched a little bit wider.

The smoke cleared, and he could see Mordred just beyond it. He seemed to have avoided most of the blast, his armor was cracked in places, the hole in his side still obvious and bleeding heavily. He began to laugh. “Two of you? Bring it on! I’ll take on all six of you if it means winning the grail!” He froze, stilled, his eyes widened. Cu lunged forwards, a blue blur, then with a yell, Mordred cried, “Damn you Master!” He was in spirit form by the time Cu buried Gae Bolg where his chest had been.

Cu straightened, looked around at the battlefield, his grin still resting on his face, his heart bursting with delight. Then, when he was certain no one was looking, he turned to the direction the arrow had come from, and blew Emiya a kiss.

By the time Cu managed to get to the rooftop he was starting to think as theirs, Emiya was already there, perched on the edge. For a second, Cu just stood there, watching him as he watched the city. It was warmer now than it had been last Holy Grail War, summer possibly, maybe spring, but either way, Emiya had discarded his red jacket, and now Cu could drink in the sight of his muscled, bare arms and the way his shirt clung to his back. It wasn’t nearly as skin tight as Cu’s own gear, but he couldn’t have everything. 

Cu stepped forwards, then, grinning mischievously, he flung himself towards Emiya, draping across his back and burying his face in the other man’s white hair. It was so soft, and Cu couldn’t resist nuzzling it as he wrapped his arms loosely around Emiya’s neck. “Hey Emiya~,” he murmured, “Thanks for the save.”

Emiya stiffened slightly, then Cu felt one of his hands take his own, and happiness burned bright in his heart. “You’re welcome,” he said, softly, gently, slightly awkward, “I would have helped out sooner, but I wasn’t sure of my shot.”

Cu smiled, then kissed the back of Emiya’s neck. “Hmmm,” he whispered against his skin, “I don’t think it would have mattered, Saber seemed to have some kind of defence, he dodged your arrow quite readily.” Then, because he wanted to, because he liked the feeling of Emiya’s skin against his lips, he kissed the back of his neck again.

“Cu!” Emiya yelped, his voice cracking, his fingers tightening on his. After a seconds pause, he spoke again, voice once again in control. “I will have my revenge.”

“Looking forward to it,” Cu mumbled, then he hopped off Emiya’s back, making sure not to pull his hand out of Emiya’s. He sat beside the Archer, pressed against him. He wanted to stay draped against Emiya’s back, he wanted to kiss him again and maybe give him a little nibble just to see how he reacted, but what he had to say deserved to be said. He remembered that Emiya had been close to Artoria when he was younger, he needed to know who his opponent was now. “Did you get a good look at Saber’s face?” 

Emiya turned to stare at him, his glorious eyes confused, his ears red, his cheeks tinged with the color. His thumb was rubbing circles on the back of Cu’s hand, and the motion was very, very distracting. “No, I didn’t. Why?”

Cu licked his lips. “It’s Mordred.”

Emiya froze.

Cu took a breath, “And he has Artoria’s face. There are differences, yes, the biggest being his fighting style and his expressions. If he was able to put on the calm mask Artoria wore, then they could have been twins.” He closed his eyes, opened them again, stared at Emiya worriedly. “I just .  . . I thought you should know. I know you and Artoria were close.”

Emiya sighed, his shoulders slumping. He dragged his free hand over his face, the other held limply in Cu’s own. “It was a long time ago,” he said quietly, slightly bitterly, “But thank you for telling me, I’ll make sure to keep it in mind.” 

Cu nodded, then leaned so he could rest his head on Emiya’s shoulder. It was nice, this was nice, the two of them together, with the city sprawled below them, despite the news. He pulled Emiya’s hand into his lap, started to draw patterns on the skin. They sat there in silence, the wind playing with their hair, thoughts swirling in their minds, until, finally, Emiya spoke. He spoke in a soft voice, confused, maybe a little bit scared. “What are we Cu?”

“Well, I would say we’re Heroic Spirits, but I don’t think that's what you want to hear.”  Emiya sent him a glare, Cu ignored it. Instead, he brought Emiya’s hand close to his face, turned it over and over, counting the little nicks and scratches that decorated his tan skin with silver. “I love you, Emiya.” And how wondrous it felt to say those words, to feel them take shape on his lips. “And you,” he grinned wryly, “apparently no longer hate me. Although that was one hell of a kiss for someone who supposedly just tolerates me. So, tell me, Emiya, what are we?” He glanced at Emiya, the Archer was flushing, nibbling his lips. “What am I to you?” He asked it softly, but he needed to know. He thought Emiya loved him, that kiss certainly seemed to say so, the hand holding too, but things like this were complicated, they needed to be said in a way that others could understand. He shifted around, moving from Emiya’s side and twisting so he could stare him in the face. 

“I-” Emiya started, he licked his lips, met Cu’s eyes, tried again, “Cu - even if,” he flushed, “even if I - it doesn’t change anything! We’re still, enemies, we’ll still end up fighting each other, killing each other.” His hand squeezed Cu’s hard. “This is not a good situation for a relationship!” His voice rose, a bit wild, a bit panicked.

Cu smiled, brought Emiya’s hand to his lips and kissed his fingertips, then his knuckles. “You said relationship.”

“I - you know what I mean! We’re enemies, Cu.” His eyes were wide, worried, his face was flushed, the words pained.

“I do,” Cu said, hadn’t he had the same thoughts himself? “I know exactly what you mean.” He turned Emiya’s hand over in his hands, running his fingers lightly over his scarred skin. “But here we are, on this building, together despite it all.” Gently, he kissed the inside of Emiya’s wrist. 

Emiya squeaked, actually squeaked. “Cu! You’re making it very difficult to think!”

Cu met his eyes, those grey and gold and brown eyes, and smiled. “That’s kind of the point.” He watched Emiya for a little bit, the tilt in the brow, the way he was biting his lip, his many scars, the curve of his cheekbone, the line of his nose, the slight dilation in his pupils. “You don’t have to say it now,” he said softly, “tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

Emiya hesitated, then nodded, his hair shifting with the movement. “Alright,” he said it gently, like a promise, and Cu’s heart leapt. 

“So,” Cu said, cheerfully, letting go of Emiya’s hand and reaching out to tug a lock of his spiky white, soft hair. “How much hair gel does it take to get your hair like this? I'm betting a bottle per day.” He leaned closer, grinning widely, “Well?”

Emiya scowled at Cu, his eyes dancing. “Seriously? That’s what you focus on? You’re ridiculous. I don’t use hair gel, it’s like my armor, it gets put up with my battle gear. Would you stop tugging on it?”

Cu stopped, then dropped his hand to trail across Emiya’s arms, leaning in a little closer. “I noticed that you’ve gotten rid of your jacket,” he purred, “I like the look.”

Emiya flushed, hard. He scooted back slightly, glancing around. “God, you’re - ur - you realize we’re on the edge of a roof, right? If you start anything here, we’re going to fall.”

Cu pouted, “Damnit, Emiya, you foiled my perfectly good plans to - well, I guess you don’t need to know now, do you?”

Emiya eyed him suspiciously. “To do what?” But his breath was coming faster and his voice was husky, so Cu knew that Emiya had to have some idea of what he’d been about to do.

“Too bad,” Cu said, grinning, eyes dancing, leaning back, away from Emiya. “Do you ever let your hair down?”

Emiya groaned. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” Cu said, with a wide grin.

“Well, I -” 

There was a sound, less like an explosion, more like a roar of energy, not perceptible to human ears. Both Servant’s heads jerked, eyes wide, staring in shock at the red beam of crackling, twisting, light that shot out over the ocean. Then their heads turned, back to each other, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ll see you later,” Cu said, leaning forwards to press a quick kiss to Emiya’s lips. He hesitated, remembering Emiya’s words, and then Emiya was closing the gap. For a second, the world disappeared, it was just the two of them, together, here, in this moment. Then Emiya pulled back, gasping.

“Be safe.” 

And then he was in spirit form, racing to his Master’s side, with Cu following his lead.

His Master was not happy, she paced around the room, worrying her fingers together. “This isn’t good, it’s only the second night of the Holy Grail War and Mordred’s already used his noble phantasm! Where were you?”

Cu swallowed, “Scouting the city,” his second lie in as many Holy Grail Wars, he hoped that he wouldn’t have to lie again. He hated it, but he couldn’t say that he’d been spending time with Emiya, could he? “Who got killed?”

She stopped pacing, stared at him. She reminded him of Tosaka, at least her age did. She wasn’t as talented, and neither did she have the other girl’s calm in difficult situations. “Caster. Any advantage we had by knowing Mordred’s name is gone, everyone will know it now.”

He thought of the large beam of red energy, “Yeah, I can see that. What will we do?” The sun hadn’t risen yet, there was still time if his Master wanted to choose another battlefield.

She froze, ran a hand over her face and sighed, “We’re staying in here, shoring up our defenses, tomorrow, we move again, and tomorrow night,” She attempted to smile, “We attempt to knock another contender out of the war. Archer would be preferable,” Cu’s heart sunk, “But as he technically helped us with Mordred, we’ll leave him for later. You don’t want to fight Medb, so she’s out of the picture. Which means we need to take down Mordred, Berserker, or Assassin. I’ll send my familiars out again, maybe one of them will strike gold.”

Cu tried not to show his relief. He wouldn’t be fighting Emiya yet, although . . . fighting would be fine, no, it would be the killing that got to him. It always hurt to kill his loved ones. But to fight Mordred, Berserker, or Assassin? To kill them? He could live with that. He grinned, wide and violent, just a shade less excited then normal. “Well then, Master, let’s hope we get a strong opponent to fight.”

“Yeah,” she said, unconvincingly, “lets.”

Cu wasn’t lucky, because of course he wasn’t, that would have been uncharacteristic of him. He was starting to think that his good luck, what little he had, only happened around Emiya. So no, because he wasn’t lucky, he didn’t get to fight Mordred or Berserker or Assassin. No, because he was unlucky, Medb found him. But this time, even with the unease tugging at his insides, he didn’t run. Not with the memory of Emiya’s kisses swimming in his veins. No, he could run, or he could fight, and if he defeated Medb, then he could go back to that rooftop without the guillotine above his neck.

And, well, Cu could only run from so many fights before his patience snapped.

Medb stood on the other side of the battlefield, hands behind her back, leaning forward, her white armor glittering in the moonlight. Someone, a person who obviously didn’t know her, might have said that she looked almost angelic, but Cu knew better. He bent his knees, slid his hands across Gae Bolg’s length, then bared his teeth at his opponent. “Let’s get this over with.”

She giggled, pulled out her whip and began to play with it. “Oh, Cu~, as if I’m going to kill you before you grace my bed at least once~”

Cu closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. “Look, lady, I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again. I’m not going to sleep with you!”

She giggled again, “I’m sure I’ll be able to make you change your mind~”

Cu groaned. “Can you not accept that there are some people who don’t want to sleep with you?!” He hoped Emiya wasn’t here, watching this debacle. The thought of Emiya seeing this mess sent shivers down his spine, and not the good kind either. How would he react? Although, if he reacted in a certain way . . .

“Nope,” Medb said, popping the p, interrupting his thoughts.

“What if,” Cu said, getting ready, “I told you that I’m already in a relationship right now?” He felt a jolt of delight at the word relationship, Emiya’s word for what they were, for what they could be. For a second it pushed back his annoyance at the menace in front of him.

“Never stopped you or Emer from sleeping around,” she pointed out, cheerfully, her pink eyes gleaming.

“Emer and I had an agreement, okay?” He said, growling, his eyebrows furrowed. “Different relationships have different rules.” He just needed to keep her distracted for a little bit longer, just a little bit longer, so he could get a clean strike. If he could keep her prattling . . .

Medb placed one hand to her lip, “If I remember correctly, Cu~, you were still married to Emer when you died. So how could you have a new relationship now, as a Heroic Spirit? You’ve only been in this world for how long, two days, maybe three?”

Cu’s eyes widened slightly. Shit, fuck, damn. 

Medb laughed, bright and delighted. “Oh Cu~” She sang, “I’m going to have so much fun when you’re mine~” There was the sound of hooves against the pavement.

Cu dodged, ran, a blur, Gae Bolg aimed right for Medb’s heart. She leaned out of the way, twisting, her pink hair dancing behind her, and Cu knew that she had moved from in front of him to her chariots seat. How? He was certain she wasn’t faster than him. So how? The answer came to him as he rolled away from trampling the feet of her bulls, mana transfer. Of course Medb would have done a mana transfer with her Master. In fact, she’d probably done multiple. It was the only way she could hope to stand against him in a straight up battle. He jumped to his feet, running, Gae Bolg a red arc in the air. It slashed across one of the bull’s sides, drawing a red cut against it’s dark skin. It faltered, didn’t fall. He saw Medb’s face twist briefly in annoyance before being replaced with a smile. Then she began to speak, and Cu could help but feel a cold trickle of fear run down his spine. “All power is my power!” She cried, throwing one arm out, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “The authority of government, the steel of oppre-”

“SO AS I PRAY, UNLIMITED BLADE WORKS!!!!”

The voice that cut through Medb’s incantation was very, very familiar, and Cu’s heart leapt at the sound. Suddenly, they weren’t in an abandoned lot, suddenly they were in a field of sand and swords, cogs and clouds cluttering the sky. But there were differences compared to when Cu had last been in Emiya’s noble phantasm, the skys were clearer, shafts of blue were peaking through the orange and grey clouds. For the first time, it didn’t look like a wasteland. For the first time, it looked like a place where hope might bloom.

Medb twisted, her outstretched hand clenching, her face furious. “Excuse you! I was in the middle of something.”

Cu turned, and he couldn’t keep the wide, slightly goofy grin off his face. Emiya stood there, not far away, bow in hand, furious. Cu remembered that look, from a long, long time ago, when they simply hated each other, but now it wasn’t focused on him, it was focused on Medb. So was the arrow that he currently had knocked.“That,” he growled, “was the point.”

Cu allowed his guard to drop, just slightly, “Hey Emiya~”

Emiya’s eye’s flicked towards him, his eyes softened, his lips pulled up slightly, “Hey Cu.”

Medb glanced between the two of them, reins held loosely in her hands, then she whistled. “So, you weren’t kidding when you said you were in a relationship. I would have expected your Master, but to secure another Heroic Spirit in just a couple days . . . you work fast. Tell me, Emiya~, is he as good in bed as I think he would be~?”

Emiya flushed, and his eyes flicked towards Cu. “Relationship?” He hissed, a mixture of embarrassment and mortified horror. “You told her that we’re in a relationship?” His arrow though, didn’t waver.

Cu just grinned at him, “Those were your words, Emiya, remember?”

“I - you,” he broke off, growled, “You’re going down. Right after this. I am taking you down.”

Cu winked. “Looking forwards to it, Emiya~”

Emiya’s face went red, redder than it already was. “Seriously?! I take back whatever I said abo -” 

“Ahem,” Medb said primly, and their heads swiveled back to where she sat on her chariot. Cu realized, blankly, that he had moved a couple steps towards Emiya, too engrossed in his bickering to focus on their enemy. Emiya had taken those couple steps too, and his bow had lowered just slightly. “As amusing as it is to watch you flirt, I had asked a question, and it’s rude to keep a Queen waiting. Well, Emiya~, is Cu~ as good in bed as I think he would be~?”

Emiya yelped, “That is - I’m not - this isn’t - I -” He somehow contrived to get even redder, any second now, steam would be escaping from his ears.

Medb rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips. “I’m going to take that as you haven’t had the chance to find that out yet. I understand, truly I do, Holy Grail War’s eat up all the free time. So,” her smile widened. “How do you feel about sharing~?”

“WHAT!?” It was shouted from two throats. Weapon’s were dropped, so were jaws.

Medb just rolled her eyes, and set her chin on her fist, leaning forwards slightly. There was a predatory glint in her pink eyes. “How do you feel about sharing? Or, if it makes it easier for you, I could take you both to my bed. I’d be okay with that~”

“No!” Emiya yelled, fingers tightening on his bow. “I am not okay with that! You will stop bothering my boyfriend!” 

Cu’s heart stopped. Emiya had said boyfriend, not friend, not enemy, boyfriend. He felt his lips pull into a wide smile, happy and delighted. He was pretty sure that Emiya had just claimed him, and it was an odd feeling, being claimed. Normally it was Cu who did the claiming. “Emiya . . .” he breathed, delight evident in his voice.

Emiya met his eyes, his own grey and gold and brown ones widened in shock. He started to flush again, his face a flaming wreck. “I - er - uh - god, this is such a mess!” 

Medb was staring at him, frowning. “Just because he’s your boyfriend doesn’t mean you can’t share. I shared my husband, and my husband shared me. I still think you should lend him to me. How about Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays? You’ll get Fridays and weekends. How does that sound?”

Cu choked, Emiya acted. From the sands a dozen swords shot towards Medb and her chariot, leaving an arching silver trail in their wake. Cu got ready for the impact, pulled back Gae Bolg to throw if the swords didn’t finish her off. 

They didn’t even hit.

Halfway through their arch, they dispersed into blue mist, and suddenly, they weren’t in Emiya’s reality marble anymore, they were back on their previous battlefield. Emiya’s eyes widened in shock, Cu growled. “Well, will you look at that,” Medb said, glancing at her wrist as if she had a watch, “You ran out of time~.” She clucked her tongue. “Never let it be said, boys, that I don’t know how to draw out a good time. Well, it’s my turn -”

“Like hell it is! Gae Bolg!”

“Clarent Blood Arthur!”

Cu had maybe a millisecond to realize that the other voice didn’t fit, that the call wasn’t right for the situation. Adrenalin filled his veins, and he was already spinning, Gae Bolg turning into mist so he could tackle Emiya. Cu saw his face in that instant, the wide eyes, the white, spiky hair, the scarred skin, all lit up in red. And then they were tumbling, rolling, scrambling away. There was a roar, a rush of electrical energy, something that might have been a scream. And then it was over, and Cu lay there on top of Emiya, his back and legs feeling like they were on fire. “Cu,” he heard, Emiya’s voice, urgent, “Cu, you better be alive, you hear me? You better be alive.”

Cu opened one eye, “Ow.” They had barely avoided the blast, and by Lugh, just the edges of that ray of energy hurt like hell.

“Damn it,” said a voice, it sounded like Artoria was a bit too wild to truly belong to her. “Only got one out of three, I’m slipping.” 

Below him, Emiya stiffened. Cu, with a groan, tried to move. It hurt to try, it hurt to breathe. Gently, he felt Emiya move him, and he twisted painfully to watch Emiya stand up. Unlike Cu, thanks to Cu, he was mostly unharmed by the blast, his clothes signed in some places, burn marks and soot streaking his face. He twitched his fingers and his swords manifested in his hands. Cu’s heart stopped, and this time it wasn’t from delight. Archer always fought fiercest to defend someone. He only killed to save someone. And here Cu was, useful as a half cooked boar. He gritted his teeth, summoned Gae Bolg, and forced himself up. He couldn’t make Emiya fight for him, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t.

Mordred turned to look at them. He was in his armor, his bastard sword balanced on his shoulders, his helmet deconstructed. “Eh?” He grinned at them, wide and sharp, “You're still up to a fight? Sheesh . . . I really am slipping.”

A muscle in Emiya’s cheek twitched, he stared at the doppelganger with shadowed eyes. “Mordred.” The name was a growl, his fingers tightened around his swords, then he took a deep breath and spoke. “What is your wish?” His voice was blank, as it always was when he was pissed and trying to hide it. But Cu knew that blankness, could read it easily.

Mordred’s blue-green eyes widened slightly, confusion and surprise flashed across his face. “Huh? Why the hell would you want to know, Archer?”

But Cu knew. Artoria had meant a lot to Emiya, she’d been his Servant, his friend, his teacher, and, in some of those wars the two had participated in, young Emiya’s lover. And here was Mordred, the boy who brought it all down, who had destroyed Artoria’s dream and ended her life. Artoria had wanted to save Brittain, that was her wish for the grail. But what about the wish of the child who had killed her? The Knight of Rebellion, the end of Camelot. What was his dream? What could it be? It was that lure, a need to know no matter how morbid it was. Emiya needed to know the wish that belonged to the killer of his friend.

Cu moved, just slightly, closer to Emiya. Letting him know he was there, making sure he understood he wasn’t alone.

“Seriously,” Mordred grumbled, scratching his head when Emiya didn’t answer. “I guess I could answer before I kill you.” He grinned, wide and violent, sharp and ready. “My wish for the grail is a chance to pull the sword from the stone.” Emiya froze, in all honesty, Cu hadn’t been expecting that wish either. “And of course, once I do that,” Mordred continued, eyes gleaming, “I’ll become a great king. Better than Father! And to do that,” he shifted, and suddenly the point of his blade was directed at them, his face serious, “I’ll have to kill you both.” Then, to Cu’s and Emiya’s surprise, his blade dropped and his shoulders slumped. “AWWWWW!! Come on! There’s only two of them! And one’s almost dead already! And I spent way too long standing outside that reality marble waiting for them to come out! I was bored! You owe me this!” A pause, Mordred groaned. “FINE! I’m coming, I’m coming!” He pointed his sword at the two again, “Next time, then.” In a flash of red lightning, he was gone.

“Well,” Cu said, after a moment, “That was surprisingly anti climatic.”

Emiya sighed, the tension in his shoulders draining, his fingers loosening, his blades disappearing. “Don’t use such big words, it will hurt your brain.”

“Oi!” Cu protested, placing a hand over his heart and pretending to be injured.

“But,” Emiya continued, his lips pulling into a small smile at Cu’s antics, “I agree. Thank goodness for cowardly Master’s, huh? And speaking of my own Master,” he scowled, “my own is pitching a fit. I better get back before he has a stroke or something.” He eyed Cu, his eyes softening, “Will I see you at our spot?” Our spot, he had said our spot.

Cu jerked a finger at his roasted back, burying his delight. “Depends on how long it takes my Master to heal this. But don’t worry, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Shame,” Emiya said dryly, then he was gone, and Cu didn’t even have time to ask about a goodbye kiss.

Very well, he sighed, smiled, and then thought, “Hey, Master, I’m ready for pickup.”

Cu did make it to their spot, barely. His back still ached, but it was the ache of newly healed skin and not the ache of skin burned to a crisp. Emiya was already there, standing, staring out at the city. He had discarded his jacket again. Cu moved up next to him, leaned close, “So,” he said, grinning.

Emiya glanced at him, “So?”

“No food tonight?” He asked plaintively, “I was thinking about a fancy dinner to celebrate our new status as boyfriends.”

Emiya’s ears went red, “I can’t believe I said that. I can’t believe I even thought of saying that.” He groaned, pinching his nose, “You are never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” Cu said, “you are officially my boyfriend now.”

“I’m not.” Emiya grumbled.

“Are too.” 

“Are not.”

“Emiya, you should know there are no takesies backsies.”

“There are always takesies backsies.” This time, he managed to keep a straight face.

“You claimed me,” Co said, leaning against him, grinning happily. “I am not going to let you go now.”

Emiya’s whole face flushed, and he muttered unintelligibly for a few minutes.

“So,” Cu persisted, “food to celebrate our getting together?”

Emiya closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “My Master,” and how he growled the words, “won’t let me in the kitchen.”

“Damn, that sucks.”

“Yes, it does.” Emiya said, empathetically, forcefully.

Cu decided to stop pushing, to stop teasing him, for now at least. So instead, he raised an eyebrow, and changed the subject. Abruptly, because besides the two of them, there was only one thing that really needed to be talked about, something important. Not necessarily to Cu, but for Emiya. “What did you think of Mordred?” He wasn’t sure he knew what he was thinking about Mordred himself, but then again, he hadn’t been as close to Artoria as Emiya had, he didn’t have the history they did.

Emiya hesitated, confusion shining in his wondrous eyes. “Not what I was expecting. I was . . . expecting someone less, childish? His wish, Cu, that surprised me. I thought it would be something more destructive.” He was frowning now, his eyes shadowed, and Cu wanted to wipe that look away.

But he couldn’t, so instead, he shrugged and said, “Me neither, but he is a wonderful fighter, I can’t wait to meet him on the battlefield again.”

“Of course you can’t,” Emiya said, slightly amused, then his tone darkened. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Cu blinked, surprised. “Don’t ever do what again?”

Emiya turned on him, his grey and gold and brown eyes furious. “Push me out of the way of something like that! Don’t risk your life for mine,” his fingers clenched, “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Cu reached out and picked up one of his clenched fists. “And I don’t like seeing you die. So, I will save your life if I can, as many times as I can. I love you Emiya, I’m not going to let you get hurt if I can help it.”

Emiya wasn’t looking at him. “I’m not worth it.”

Cu reached out with his other hand, ran his finger over Emiya’s cheek, tracing his scar, bringing his fist to his lips. “Yes, you are.”

“Cu.” His voice was pained.

“You are, maybe not in your own mind, but to me, you are.” And Cu would say it, over and over and over until Emiya understood it. No matter how long it took to get it through his thick skull. He leaned forwards, gently set his forehead against Emiya’s. “I love you.” 

Emiya sighed, his breath rushing against Cu’s lips. “I know.”

For a while they stood there, leaning against each other, heads touching. It was Cu who broke the silence. “Good,” he said, then, grinning, he moved his hand to ruffle Emiya’s hair. “So? What does it look like when it’s down?”

Emiya groaned. “That is something you will never find out.”

Cu grinned wider, “Are you sure about that, Emiya~”

Emiya’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare take that as a challenge!” He was too late, Cu was already moving, his feet tangled with Emiya’s and he knocked them both down, twisting so he could take the impact. His back ached when it hit the ground, but he ignored it, instead rolling so he could pin Emiya to the rooftop and reach out to ruffle his hair. Emiya cursed, flailing his arms and fending off Cu's searching hands. Then he changed tactics, one hand jerking out to dig into Cu’s side.

Cu yelped, nearly jumped back a foot, and then froze, staring down at Emiya with wide, fearful eyes.

Emiya was starting to smirk, his grey and gold and brown eyes dancing. His face was flushed, but his hair, annoyingly, was still in place. “Don’t tell me,” he drawled, slowly, “That the great Cu Chulainn is ticklish?”

Cu opened his mouth to protest, Emiya didn’t give him a chance.

Cu yelped again as Emiya’s fingers grazed his side, then jerked out of the way as he started to tickle. His arms flailed, trying to cover himself, but it was useless, Emiya was freaking everywhere, fingers digging into his sides and stomach, tickling relentlessly. Cu managed to disentangle himself from Emiya, tried to run. Emiya grabbed him by the ankle and pulled. Cu fell, and Emiya pounced on him, his fingers running over Cu’s sides, his neck, leaving tingling paths in their wake. Cu shrieked, and laughed, trying desperately to cover his sides, to get Emiya off him, but it wasn’t working, every time he covered one area, another was revealed, and then Emiya was there, tickling. “Emiya!” he gasped, tears in his eyes, trying to breathe, failing to breathe.

Emiya paused, one hand had made its way to Cu’s armpit, the other had dug in above his hip. Cu could feel his weight against his back, felt him shift as he leaned over, felt his breath against his ear as he spoke. “Do you surrender?” He was grinning, Cu could tell. Cu was basically being tortured, and the bastard was grinning. 

“No,” he gritted out, because he was Cu Chulainn and he didn’t fucking run away from a fight, even if it was a tickle fight. And also because, well, yes it was tickles, but he wasn’t exactly going to object to the position they were in.

“Hmmm, I guess I have no choice but to continue.” Emiya murmured, and damn him, he had to know exactly what he was doing to him, there was no way Emiya could be that oblivious. Cu was tempted to just flip over and show Emiya exactly what he thought of this, but then those plans scattered as Emiya’s fingers began to move again.

Cu started to jerk and squirm as Emiya’s fingers continued to assault his poor, sensitive, ticklish skin. And it was stupid because he was wearing his armor, but it didn’t exactly defend his from this. And he could feel Emiya shaking against him, and he knew he was laughing, laughing at him. And his thoughts were swirling, and all he could do was try to protect himself but he couldn’t because he was laughing too hard, and he couldn’t breathe. “Stooop . . .” he wheezed, “Can’t . . . breathe . . .”

Emiya stopped, and now Cu could hear his laughter as well as feel it. “You,” he managed to gasp out, and then Cu felt him lean over again, and could see one of his hands, placed against the rooftop by his head, “are ridiculous. I have never seen anyone react to tickles like that.” He started to crack up again.

Cu was inclined to agree with him, not about the tickles, but about how ridiculous he was being. Was it ridiculous to be relieved that he had stopped, but to also be desperate to feel Emiya’s hands on him again? He groaned, setting his forehead against the rooftop, trying to ignore the flush in his cheeks and the way Emiya was pressed against him. It was very hard to ignore, especially since he didn’t want to ignore it. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he begged, “My reputation will be ruined.”

“Hmm,” Emiya considered, and he shifted his weight slightly. Cu bit back a moan. Freaking - he was doing this on purpose, he had to be. “You,” he said softly, one hand brushing Cu’s hair from his neck, “nearly died by salmon. I don’t think you have much of a reputation to protect.” His lips glided over the back of Cu’s neck. 

Cu gasped at the sensation, twisting his head so he could pear back at Emiya. “What,” he panted, “was that for?”

Emiya laughed, “Didn’t I say I would have my revenge?” He kissed the back of Cu’s neck again.

Cu growled, a low, hungry sound, “Oh, Emiya~, just you wait.”

Emiya chuckled, then rose, not off of him, but moving back so his breath was no longer skittering across Cu’s neck. “I assure you, I have no clue what you mean,” his voice was filled with false innocence, but his hands gripped Cu’s waist, hard.

Cu pushed himself up slightly, twisting so he could stare Emiya in the face. His retort died in his throat. Sometime during their struggle, Emiya’s hair had fallen down. Cu wasn’t sure if it was because of their completely one sided tickle fight or some other reason, but he had to see. He had to see better than this awkward position let him. He twisted underneath Emiya, and then, while the Archer was struggling not to fall over, Cu rolled on top of him and pinned his hands above his head. He stared down intently at Emiya, taking in the sight of his flushed face, his glittering eyes, the locks of soft, white hair that had fallen over his brow. It made him look younger, more carefree. Cu began to smile. 

“What,” Emiya said, trying and failing to control his voice, “are you looking at?”

“You,” Cu said, simply, leaning forwards slightly. He let go of one of Emiya’s wrists, ran his fingers through his hair. “Just you.” His voice was soft and warm, he couldn’t help it, he didn’t want to help it.

Emiya’s eyes widened, he looked away. “It fell down, didn’t it?” He moved his free hand to grab Cu’s own, to bring it away from his hair.

“Yes, it did.”

Emiya sighed, hard. “I look like him when it's down.” He grumbled, his face still flushed, but there was a shadow in his eyes. He didn’t need to explain who the ‘him’ was.

Cu let his other hand trail down Emiya’s arm to cup his face. He ran his thumb over the scar beneath his eyes. “No, you look like yourself.”

Emiya looked at him again, gentle and soft and surprised and unsure. Then they were kissing, and Cu wasn’t sure who started it. This kiss wasn’t like Cu’s dying kiss, or like Emiya’s revenge kiss, or like their goodbye kiss from last night. No, this was them, pressed together, hands in each other's hair, lips touching. Gentle, soft, quickly getting needier, more desperate. It was like he’d been waiting for this forever, perhaps even longer than that. Cu could taste him, apples and baked goods, could feel Emiya’s hand tangled in his hair and the other clutching his back. Cu’s one hand still cupped Emiya’s cheek, the other wormed its way under his body to bring them closer together. It was just them, on this rooftop, no Holy Grail War, no rush, just them, together. And then, just when Cu’s hand was starting to pull Emiya’s shirt up, just as his fingers were starting to graze the flesh beneath, Emiya pulled back, gasping. “How long do you have before your Master notices you’re gone?” He sounded breathless, the words husky.

Cu groaned, touching his forehead to Emiya’s. “An hour if we’re lucky, probably less.” He had gone out with his Master’s permission this time, supposedly to sight-see, and technically staring at Emiya counted as sightseeing, but his Master would probably call him back anyway. She was that type, too scared of being left alone for long. 

“Then we should probably stop here,” Emiya said, regretfully.

“Emiya,” Cu whined, even though he knew Emiya was right. It would be a bad idea if his Master, or even Emiya’s contacted one of them while the two were busy. “Not fair.” He grumbled. 

“Very not fair,” Emiya agreed, poking Cu’s side. “You’ll just have to be patient.”

Cu, with a yelp, slid off him. “I,” he said, “don’t want to be patient.”

Emiya sent him a teasing smile, sitting up. “All good things come to those who wait.”

Cu groaned dramatically at that. “Har har, did you get that out of a fortune cookie?”

Emiya just continued smiling, an awkward, happy smile, patting the ground before him. “Come on, sit. Back facing me please.”

Cu pushed himself up, frowning, one eyebrow raised. “What are you planning?”

Emiya's smile hadn’t faded, and Cu loved the sight. The way he looked, that smile on his face, that flush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, his hair mussed. He looked so relaxed, so happy, and Cu could have watched him forever. “Not funny business,” he said.

“Damn it.”

Emiya rolled his eyes, his cheeks darkened a smidgen more, he raised one hand, in it, something metal glittered. With a yelp, Cu reached back, and sure enough, his hair tie was missing. “You can come over here,” Emiya said with a sly look in his glittering eyes, “or I can keep this, your choice.”

“It seems I don’t really have one,” he said, mock sorrow in his voice, as he scooted over to sit with his back to Emiya. He felt fingers in his hair. “What are you going to do?”

“None of your business,” the reply was immediate, the tone amused.

Cu pouted, “It’s my hair, I would hope it’s my business.”

Emiya chuckled, “Not anymore, now, shush.” 

So Cu sat there, silent, as Emiya tugged at his hair, enjoying his proximity to the Archer, a suspicion welling up with each tug. Finally, when the curiosity bubbled up, almost too much to bear, he opened his mouth to speak. Something, interrupted him, well, someone. “Uh, Cu?” It was his Master’s voice, sharp and worried. “I need you to come back, as fast as you can, please.”

Cu closed his eyes, fighting back a groan of frustration. “Emiya, I have to go, my Master calls.”

“Just a second,” another tug, “There.” Emiya stepped back, and Cu turned to raise an eyebrow. Emiya held up his empty hands. “Hair band returned.”

Cu stood as well, reached back to run his hands over his hair, felt the smooth lumps of a braid. His eyebrows rose. “You braided my hair?”

Emiya’s ears went red, he ran a hand over his own loose hair. “Well, you messed with my hair. It was only fair that I got to mess with yours.” He muttered the words, but his glorious eyes kept glancing at Cu, the happiness in them obvious.

Cu grinned, “You, I will see you later. Definitely, when we have time for,” he waggled his eyebrows, “funny business.”

Emiya groaned, “I’ve made a monster.” But then he smiled, and his eyes met Cu’s, and his voice was filled with earnesty. “Be safe.”

Cu just smirked at him, and then he was in spirit form and running, leaping down to the next rooftop, then to the next. He didn’t kiss Emiya goodbye, because one kiss would have led to another, and another, and another, and then Cu wouldn’t have been getting back to his Master any time soon. So instead, he ran, the world a blur around him, replaying the night's events in the back of his mind, wishing, longing. Emiya’s smile, his blush, the feeling of his hands through Cu’s hair, how it felt to kiss him as if they had all the time in the world even if they didn’t. Perhaps that was why he didn’t realize it until too late, perhaps he wouldn’t have realized it even if he had been focused on his Master and her words. Either way, it didn’t matter, he was unprepared, unready, his guard dropped. He glided through the door of their current abode, as if it wasn’t a Holy Grail War, as if there weren't three other Servants running around, one ridiculously powerful, two unidentified. He spoke with his happiness in his voice, unable to contain it, “Master, I’m he-”

“Cu Chulainn, by order of command seal I compel you . . .”  

Chapter Text

Emiya stood on the rooftop, head swirling, that unfamiliar giddiness once again bubbling in his chest. Happiness, it was happiness, almost too different to identify. Happiness was a feeling that was almost unfamiliar to him, foreign, because he hadn’t felt it in such a long time. Yet Cu was able to summon it with his very presence, and Emiya couldn’t help but be so happy near him. It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, but here he was, fighting a smile, failing, wishing, longing. Happy and content. And wasn’t it odd to be both happy and wishing for more, to be content but longing for something he knew was a very bad idea? But here he was, feeling all that and more. 

He closed his eyes, let the wind ruffle through his hair. It was still loose, brushing against his brow and ears. He hated having it down, because if he looked in a mirror all he saw was him, wide amber eyes, red hair, that stupid, stupid boy who he had once been. “You look like yourself.” That was what Cu had said, in that voice, so soft and warm, and something in Emiya had melted like ice before hot water. Because Cu didn’t see the boy with red hair and amber eyes and that stupid dream, he saw Emiya. The current Emiya. The broken one who had lost his way too many times.

And Cu still loved him, not the boy he had been, but the man he was now. And it seemed impossible, like this was some kind of dream, and he kept waiting with baited breath for it all to go wrong because didn’t it always? Happiness wasn’t something that lasted for Emiya. It never had been. It had always been faint and fleeting, leaving him in the dark once again. 

But here he was, his skin still tingling from Cu’s touch, the taste of him still on his lips, the memory of his fingers darting through his blue hair lingering, happy. So very happy, and so terrified that it would all fall down. And perhaps that’s why he hadn’t said it, hadn’t said those three words, hadn’t let them hang in the air. Because he was certain, so certain, that it would end, that this, between the two of them, would all come crashing down the minute he told Cu he loved him. Because he did love him, all of him. Those shining red eyes, so bright and fierce, his blue hair, dark but with lighter streaks that caught the light. That grin, wide and blood thirsty, and the softer one that seemed to be meant only for Emiya. His laugh, his warmth, his understanding of what it was like to be scarred. His acceptance, his cheer, his bravery. It was like a fire before a freezing man and Emiya couldn’t help but be drawn in. 

Oh, he had hated him at first, but Cu was hard to hate for very long, and by that time that odd Holy Grail War had rolled around, he’d been able to tolerate his presence for more than a few minutes. And they kept on coming, Grail War after Grail War after Grail War, and Cu became an anchor of some sort, the only familiar face unless it was that damn Holy Grail War being replayed again. And then Emiya told him, his story, his pain, and Cu hadn’t told him he’d been stupid, and Cu hadn’t rolled his eyes and called him an idiot. He’d understood, not all, but part, and that was enough. 

And still Emiya had been blind to what was happening between the two of them until that first sunrise, when he had glanced at the blue haired Lancer. He hadn’t even meant too, he just had, and then he hadn’t been able to look away. His hair had glowed, his head tipped back, the sun dancing on his pale skin. And he’d looked like a fucking masterpiece, some painting that belonged in a museum where no one could smear it’s colors but could still stare at it in awe and wonder. But more than that, he had looked peaceful, and peaceful was not a word he would have ever associated with Cu Chulainn before that day. And Emiya had been stuck there, staring, until Cu had looked at him and he’d managed to break free of the sight. And then, then, three seconds later but what felt like eternity, he’d met his eyes again. Cu’s red, red eyes, they’d been soft, so soft, and warm too. 

And Emiya, the realization hitting him like a freight train, had panicked and ran. 

He loved Cu, and Cu, brilliant, burning, brave Cu, could never love him back. Because Emiya was a broken thing, only now starting to pick the pieces back up and put them in their places. It was impossible that Cu could love him back, not him, not Emiya. Not Emiya, who had lost his way too many times, so sure that he couldn’t claw himself out of the pit he had dug himself into. But Cu did love him, despite it all, and now here Emiya was, lips still tingling, standing on their rooftop, so very happy.

Emiya sighed, and shrugged, his jacket coalescing onto his arms, his hair going back into its slicked back and spiked form. But he didn’t leave, not yet, unlike Cu, his Master was pretty lax this war, on certain things at least. He was allowed to be out, as long as he didn’t announce his presence to anyone. He wasn’t supposed to fight, just watch and wait until only the strongest were left. The rules were simple, and Emiya had managed to break every one, and he didn’t feel an ounce of regret. 

The sun was starting to rise, the sky changing colors, and the sight reminded him of Cu. Emiya smiled, and then sat on the edge of the building, watching. It wasn’t the same without Cu, oh yes, it was still beautiful, but it wasn’t the same. He almost regretted letting Cu leave, he did regret stopping the kiss, though the word kiss didn’t cover what had happened before, it didn't cover the sensation of Cu pressed against him, so close, as if he was trying to merge into Emiya, to make the two of them become one person. But Cu was loyal, always loyal to his Master, and, as hard as it was to understand, he was loyal to Emiya too, and Emiya didn’t want to test those loyalties, to make Cu choose. 

Because it would break Cu, like killing Ferdiad had broken something in him, and Emiya didn’t want to see Cu broken and hurting.

How would they live like this? Stolen moments between battles, until they died only to be summoned again. How would they survive it with this thing, this love, between them intact? Was it even possible? Emiya didn’t know, and it scared him, the uncertainty of it, the way things might or might not work out.

It was quite possible he might have sat there for the rest of the day, thinking until nightfall, his thoughts swirling and swirling inside his head until something came out of them, but he was interrupted. “Archer,” his Master’s voice, cold, a thread of fear twisting through it, “Come here, right now.”

His Master’s house was small, unassuming, but the bounded field around it was strong, fitting for a man who was almost always too cautious. So when Emiya slipped into the living room, he was expecting the pinched, nervous face, the tight, shifting eyes. He was not expecting the letter that was jabbed at him. “This arrived for you.” He said, his voice strained.

Emiya looked down at the letter in his hands. It was a plain letter, with Archer written in elegant script on the white paper. It was, to his slight surprise, written in English, cursive if he wasn’t mistaken, and it was sealed with red wax. It was all very old fashioned, gentle and unassuming, but his stomach plummeted at the sight. “You haven’t opened it?”

His Master snorted, “I did a cursory sweep with my magic, so I know it’s not trapped.” He glared at Emiya, “Which I wouldn’t have to worry about if you hadn’t ignored my orders and rescued Lancer twice in a row!” His voice rose, taking an edge Emiya knew very well from his previous outbursts.

Emiya ignored him, he’d had a lot of practice at that through the various Holy Grail Wars he’d been summoned into. Gently, he pried the seal off, opened the flap, and then unfolded the paper within. 

Dear Archer,

You were not as careful as you thought you were.

Emiya froze, his fingers tightening, gripping the letter, wrinkling the paper. He stared down at those words, that first sentence, feeling like ice was creeping down his back. What? What was this? No, he knew what this was, he knew. Distantly, he could hear his Master’s voice, asking what it meant, demanding to hear what was written. Emiya ignored him, staring down at the cursive. No, it was a simple word, a small one, but at that moment it filled his mind. No. 

We know of your meetings with Lancer. We know what you two mean to each other.

The world was spinning. Assassin. They hadn’t kept track of Assassin. Caster and Medb were dead. Mordred was running around picking fights and blowing up shit. But no one had heard from Assassin. No one. God, he was such an idiot. He had forgotten about the existence of the most dangerous Heroic Spirit for those with secrets.

We will keep this brief. We have Lancer. We control whether he lives or dies. You will come to the Fujō Building tonight at twelve, or we will kill him. 

But Cu wouldn’t let himself be captured, he wouldn’t, unless . . . oh God. Oh God. Assassin had Cu’s Master, had probably grabbed her while the two of them were canoodling on the rooftop. He could have forced her to use a command seal to order Cu’s compliance. Or to kill him. It would have been safer to kill him then. In all likelihood, Cu was already dead. And if Emiya went walking into this trap, he would be dead too.

It is your choice whether he lives or dies.

But he couldn’t take the risk. If Cu was alive, if there was the slightest chance he was alive, and Emiya didn’t come, then he would die. Even if Emiya came, Cu still had a chance of dying. But a chance of dying was basically a chance of surviving, so if he went, and Cu wasn’t dead, he could get them out. Possibly. But to do that meant they had to have a plan, but what plan, how? His thoughts were circling but he had already made up his mind. He was going, he had to go. He wouldn’t let this happen to Cu, not to Cu, not to Cu who looked at him and loved him despite all his flaws. Not to his Cu.

We look forward to seeing you.

It wasn’t signed. Of course it wasn’t. But it was written in English and in cursive, and the seal made it look old fashioned. English assassins. English assassins. Who was an English assassin? His mind was drawing a blank. All he could think of was Cu, Cu locked up, held in chains made of Command Seals and loyalty. Cu wouldn’t risk anything that would harm his Master, but Emiya bet that if he managed to get Cu the chance, he could escape. He was too strong, too dangerous to be held for long. That thought eased the tightness in his chest, just a little bit, but then a vice squeezed as his next thought filtered through. 

All the more reason to kill him while he was down.

“God fucking damn it!” He growled, the paper crumpling in his hands. “I’m going out.”

“No you aren’t Archer! What does it say?!”

“None of your damn business!”

“Archer!”

Emiya ignored him, rushing out the door, heedless of the fact that he was still in his armor, a red blur as he ran to a place where he could think through his next steps.

He was on the rooftop again, their rooftop, pacing, feeling guilt rise up like black bile in his throat. Cu’s Master had been kidnapped because of him, because he had drawn Cu away. Idiot, he was an utter idiot. But he couldn’t focus on that now, he could wallow in that guilt later, right now, he had to focus on rescuing Cu. The very thought almost made him laugh, who would have imagined this situation? Nobody, nobody would. It was ridiculous. Cu wasn’t the type of person who needed to be rescued, Cu was the type of person who did the rescuing. He was Ireland’s fucking Child of Light, not some fragile damsel in distress.

With a growl, Emiya turned and gripped the letter in his hands. Tonight, at midnight, Assassin and their Master would be at the Fujō Building with Cu and his Master in tow. He had until then to figure out a plan and gather information. He needed to find out who Assassin was and . . . Berserker. The thought hit him, hard. Berserker hadn’t made an appearance yet. Emiya resisted the urge to scream in frustration. Normally, Berserker would have popped up by now, but they hadn’t which meant it was possible they were working with Assassin. Which meant he would have two enemies to defeat, unless he got lucky and Berserker was hiding somewhere else.

He doubted it, though. 

He wasn’t that lucky, and neither was Cu.

Emiya looked back down at the letter, the Fujō Building , that was where they would be tonight, but he bet they were already there. It would make sense, they would need time to set up the trap, to get things ready for him. They probably believed he wouldn’t come during the day, Archers didn’t have Presence Concealment as a general rule, so if he popped up, they would know. So obviously, he wouldn’t pop up, he wouldn’t sniff out the trap. They would be safe, they would have time to get everything ready.

For the first time, Emiya smirked, wide and violent. He folded the letter, and slipped it into his belt. He held out one hand, then murmured, “Trace On.” Each move was deliberate, the words cold. He felt the tug of his magic, the burning through his extremities. Swords were his main thing, all kinds of swords. They were the easiest for him to create. But Emiya had traced every weapon he had ever encountered, he had too. He wasn’t as fast or as strong as Cu was, nor was he as good of a fighter. But if he was prepared, and he was clever, Emiya could take down anyone.

The weapon took shape in the air, smaller then his swords, dagger sized. He felt a bead of sweat run down his brow. He’d never summoned this blade before. Carnwennan, Artoria’s dagger. The dagger that granted the user invisibility, and with a little modification, granted Emiya Presence Concealment. It plopped into his hand, a small blade, a white hilt. He felt himself fade out of existence, no longer there, even though he could just make out the edges of his form. Not perfect then, he would have to be careful.

But it would be enough.

It would have to be.

The Fujō Building was an apartment building, old, abandoned, the streets quiet and dusty and empty. Emiya could feel the bounded field, pulsing faintly, warning him off. He entered anyway, settling on the roof of the building, hoping Artoria’s dagger would keep his entrance hidden, even with the bounded field. He waited, nothing, no mages rushing out, no Servant’s aiming for his head. He gripped Carnwennan tightly in his hand, feeling the hilt press painfully into his palm, eyes scanning the street below.

He’d been right, they had gone ahead and set up here, he could feel it, the presence of two Servants below him. One had to be Cu. The other couldn’t be Assassin, because he wouldn’t sense Assassin, which meant the other was either Berserker or Mordred. He briefly considered Mordred, but he doubted it. Murderer or not, he didn’t strike Emiya as the type of person to kidnap somebody to force a confrontation. But then again, who knew what his Master was like? Masters had a nasty habit of twisting their tools out of proportion to fit their needs. His own was yammering in the back of Emiya’s mind now, like a little, yappy dog, but he hadn’t used a command spell . . . yet. He wanted the root, and Emiya had Independent Action, so his Master needed to save his command seals for then. So he wouldn’t use one unless he was truly desperate. Which meant that Emiya was free to do as he pleased in the meantime.

He tightened his grip on Carnwennan, his teeth gritting, eyes flicking across the rooftop.

The two Servants, Cu and whomever, were on one of the lower floors. Plus Assassin, probably somewhere close. If this wasn’t a rescue mission, and if Cu wasn’t in there, Emiya could have collapsed the whole building on their heads. But he couldn’t, so he had to find a way down. He couldn’t go down the stairs, because those were most likely trapped. If he wasn’t holding Carnwennan and had the letter tucked into his belt, he could have slipped into spirit form and gone that way. It was no use, he would have to climb down and enter through a window on the floor they were on. 

Or, alternatively, he could jump. That would be faster.

So he jumped.

His feet hit the rooftop, pushed off the edge, then he plummeted, the air snatching the edges of his clothes, tugging at his hair, pressing hard against his face. He could feel the floors flashing by, one after another, then, there! He plunged Carnwennan into the side of the building, hoping beyond hope that it wouldn’t break as it slid against the stone. It didn’t, and he slowed down enough to grab a window sill as it flashed by. He could feel magic against his fingers, fine, that was fine. He hadn’t triggered the bounded field, and he wouldn’t trigger this. Thank God for magic daggers. 

He pulled Carnwennan out of the wall, then hoisted himself into the room. The window was open, a small miracle, although perhaps it wasn’t meant to be. Emiya could see shards of glass stuck in the window frame, glittering like frost in the light. Broken then, and it hadn’t been replaced. The Masters had probably thought their bounded field would be enough, but they were no Medea with her territory creation and magecraft from the Age of Gods. He slipped into the room, silent, barely visible, then he froze, taking slow, even breaths. One of the Servants was moving. Slowly, he glided to the otherside of the room, pressing against the wall and peeking out the doorway. There were two sets of foot falls moving down the hall, one a heavy tread, the other light, two voices, two sets of footsteps, one Servant signature. Emiya took a deep breath, held it.

“Seriously,” A booming voice said, gruff and deep, “I don’t know why they need both of us. It will probably be a bird.”

“Well,” the second voice was softer, slightly unsure, with a crisp english accent. “It’s not like he can do anything.”

“Hmm, true.” The footsteps grew louder, the voices grew softer. “I don’t like this, Assassin. It’s hardly fair.”

“I know,” Assassin replied.

They passed by the doorway, and Emiya caught a glimpse of two figures. They were both male, one tall, the other smaller. The small one had to be Assassin, sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, glasses, a jacket hanging off his shoulders. He looked frail, weak, a gentleman instead of a fighter. The taller one had to be Berserker, and Emiya wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or angry at the fact. As a general rule, Emiya didn’t do revenge, but for Artoria’s killer, he might make an exception. He would make an exception for Cu’s killer, if he was dead. The thought hurt, and Emiya blinked, closed his eyes, then focused on Berserker. He looked strong, muscled with deeply tanned skin and lots of scars, most of them more grievous then Emiya’s own, his hair was also blond, a more golden shade than Assassin’s, and his eyes were red. Assassin and Berserker, a gentleman and a barbarian, the two seemed too different to work together, but they looked like they were on good terms. And neither of them seemed to like the situation they had been forced into. That was fine, he could work with that.

Emiya gripped Carnwennan harder as they continued on in silence, waited until their footsteps faded into the distance, then slipped into the hallway. Five doors down, he found the room they were keeping Cu in. The door was closed, he tested the doorknob, unlocked. He cracked open the door, just slightly. 

Cu’s voice greeted him, annoyed and angry. “Oi! Assholes! Are you back again already? What, your Masters sending you off to chase pigeons or do chores? There’s only one Heroic Spirit I know who would do any of that willingly, and he’d look ten times better doing it then you two. I bet you can’t even -”

Emiya slipped in, burying the warm feeling Cu’s voice down deep. He was alive, he was alive which meant they had a chance. Softly, he closed the door, then he stuck Carnwennan in his belt, hoping he was right and Assassin and Berserker wouldn’t tell their Masters they suddenly had a Heroic Spirit pop up on the premises. His invisibility dropped, he crossed his arms, trying to keep the relief off his face. “Seriously? Are you trying to get them to kill you? Idiot.”

Cu’s jaw dropped. “Emiya? What are you doing here?”

“Playing the knight in shining armor to your damsel in distress, obviously.”

Cu went red. It was so funny, he flirted and he tossed out innuendos at practically every opportunity, but the minute Emiya threw them back he flushed. “You shouldn’t be here,” he gritted out, lowering his voice, “This is a trap Emiya, they’ll kill you.”

Emiya took a second to look at him, just to look. He was tied to a chair, the chains binding his arms and legs thick and numerous. Emiya was pretty sure he could have broken them, so he must have been under the influence of a command seal. His hair was still in the braid Emiya had put into it, and the sight made something burn in him. Delight, it was delight, because he looked good in that braid, and Emiya had wanted to make sure that some part of him stayed with the Lancer. It was soppy, and stupid, but there he was, with his blue hair shining in it’s braid even though the room was mostly dark. Because it was dark and gloomy in this room, shadows gathering in the corners, the windows boarded up, but Cu stood out like a beacon with his pale skin and glowing red eyes and blue hair. Child of light indeed. “I know,” Emiya said, simply, “but if you get to push me out of the way of noble phantasms, then I get to rescue you when you allow yourself to get captured!” His voice rose slightly, and with an effort, Emiya strangled it down.

Cu stared at him for a few seconds, then, impossibly, he began to smile. It was that soft smile, the gentle one, and Emiya could feel his heart melt. Goddamn it, this wasn’t the fucking time. “Fine, I get your point,” Cu said, then he pouted, “and I didn’t allow myself to get captured.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Emiya shot back, uncrossing his arms, and walking over to Cu’s side. He knelt by the chair, started to test the chains. “. . . I’m sorry.”

He could feel Cu’s surprise. “About what?”

He gritted his teeth. Shouldn’t it be obvious? It was his fault, his fault, if he hadn’t -

Cu must have realized something in the tilt of his shoulders, because Emiya had made sure to keep his face hidden. “It wasn’t your fault, Emiya.” He said it in that soft voice, the gentle one, as Emiya tugged at the chains around his arm. They were stronger than they looked, he couldn’t even make them budge. Magicked, maybe. “I made my choice to go up there. I made my choice to come to you. My choice,” his voice became even softer, “and I don’t regret it.”

Emiya looked at him, and Cu’s red eyes stared back down at him. How could they be so warm, so gentle? Because when he first saw them, hard as flint and glowing in that schoolyard, he’d thought the only expression they could hold was bloodlust. “Even if you got captured? Even if your Master was put in danger?” It came out sharper then he wanted, but he wouldn’t take that back.

Cu made a face, his nose scrunching up. “Well . . . if I compare being captured to making out with you on a rooftop, I would choose making out on a rooftop with you anyday. But this has its charms too.”

Emiya stopped trying to pull at the chains in favor of staring at Cu incredulously. “Seriously?”

“What?” Cu asked, all wide eyed and trying to be innocent, but his grin gave him away. “You’re cute when you get to play knight in shining armor. Should I not enjoy the sight of my boyfriend coming to my rescue?” 

Emiya groaned, he could feel the heat in his face, rising to the surface. “I should just leave you, it would save me a lot of trouble.”

“But you won’t.” He said it smugly.

Emiya didn’t deny it, flushing harder and changing the subject before their conversation could fall into more bickering. “Tell me about Assassin and Berserker.”

Cu just looked at him, “Tell me about how you got in here unseen.”

Emiya dropped his hands to his side and stood up, “Carnwennan, it turns the user invisible. Now spill.”

Cu grinned at him, a bright, sunny grin that lit up his whole face. “Well, the two of them are not happy about this, not at all. Assassin keeps on complaining that it's not a gentlemanly thing to do. Berserker grumbles about the fact that he hates keeping couples apart.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Emiya rolled his eyes, trying to keep his blush under control. He failed, because of course he did. “So both of them are genuinely good guys, I think. Their Masters, however, are horrible. But, and here’s the interesting part, Assassin’s Master is reluctant to use his command seals.” He leaned forwards, his voice lowering. “Assassin forced my Master to use one of her command seals so I would comply with their demands. He was supposed to make her kill me. But his Master didn’t press the issue, which means he’s scared of Assassin. So Assassin probably has a trump card, one that’s indiscriminate about who it hits, one that his Master will be hesitant to use.”

Emiya bit his lip, burying his rage at Assassin’s Master’s plan. He could use this, he could. He would not focus on the fact that it was thanks to Assassin that Cu was alive right now. “All good information, anything else you can share?”

“I don’t know Assassin’s name, but Berserker is Beowulf.”

Emiya winced.

Cu was staring at him, his red eyes sharp. “I assume you have a plan, Sir Emiya~”

Emiya groaned, feeling the heat in his ears as Cu said his name in that way he had, as if it was some gem he was turning over and over in his hands, “Stop that. No, don’t give me that look, you are currently tied up, you don’t get to give me that look. I do have a plan,” he thought he had a plan, “I’ll be back for you tonight.”

Cu nodded, “Counting on it,” then he grinned, “do I get a goodbye kiss?”

“No,” Emiya grumbled, “considering you didn’t follow my instructions to be safe.”

Cu pouted, fluttered his eyelashes, “But here I am, all tied up. I’ll need something to keep me warm as I await your return.”

Emiya was tempted to point out that Cu was plenty warm already, but he would just find a way to turn that into another joke. “You have the memory of the rooftop to do that for you,” he paused, “Are you not pissed?” Because Emiya had been so certain he would be.

Cu’s playful expression dropped, “Emiya,” he said, “I’m absolutely seething. But this is also a novel experience, so I might as well go with it until I have a chance to do something about it.” He grinned and winked, “I can be patient about some things. Do I get my goodbye kiss, Emiya~?” 

“You,” Emiya muttered, “are the worst.” But he leaned down, cupping Cu’s face in his hands, and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, gentle and sweet, Cu’s lips warm against his. Not a goodbye, but a see you later. Because he would see him later, he would make sure of that. Emiya pulled back, not far. “I’ll return for you, you hear me? You better not die before then or I will be so pissed with you.”

Cu’s lips twitched into his familiar grin, his red eyes sparkled. “Yessir,” Emiya rolled his eyes, and Cu’s face fell into serious earnestness. “Be safe.”

“I’ll be safer than you,” he shot back, and then because it was Cu, he leaned forwards and kissed him again, before pulling back and drawing Carnwennan, disappearing into just an almost form. Then, he was gone. 

He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d had a plan, not exactly. He had the bones of a plan, one he didn’t like, not at all. He would have preferred to find Cu’s Master, to sneak her out so Cu could escape, but she was probably just as well guarded, and his own Master was not going to back him up. Either way, he was going to have to fight both Assassin, Beowulf, and their Masters. Alone.

Except he wouldn’t have too, because there was still one other Servant in this Holy Grail War, and he had proven willing to fight multiple servants at the same time already, even if his Master was a coward.

Emiya hated this plan.

He hated this plan so much, but it was the only way he was going to get Cu out of there alive.

Mordred was not hiding his presence, it had barely taken Emiya ten minutes to locate the Saber after leaving Cu’s side. Emiya was currently in an alleyway, Carnwennan still gripped in his hand, staring at the place where Mordred currently resided. It was an all you can eat buffet, and he could easily imagine Artoria sitting down and absolutely devouring whatever she piled on her plate. He could barely stand the fact that her murder carried her face, if Mordred shared Artoria’s appetites as well, then he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

He let go of Carnwennan, watching it dissolve. Then he shrugged off his jacket, without it, he almost looked like he was wearing regular clothes. Cu, he was doing this for Cu. He would do this for Cu. With a deep breath, he left the alleyway, crossed the street, and entered the restaurant.

It didn’t take him long to locate Mordred. The Saber was sitting in a booth, a table filled with food before him, and Emiya had to hold back a wince. He looked like Artoria, had that same shine in his eyes as he stared down at his meal. He didn’t want to do this, he wanted to walk away or perhaps snipe Mordred from afar, but he had to. For Cu. It was a mantra in his mind. For Cu. For Cu. For Cu. Slowly, step by step, he walked over and sat in front of the Saber.

Unlike Emiya, Mordred was wearing normal clothes. Ripped jeans, black combat boots, a red leather jacket, a white shirt with what looked like a cartoon version of Arthur pulling Excalibur from a stone.  The sight hurt, to see Artoria’s killer wearing an iconic moment in her life. He swallowed his anger. He couldn’t pick a fight now, there were too many civilians.

He shouldn’t have let his curiosity get the best of him last night. Shouldn’t have asked. Should have just ended him there.

Mordred glanced up at him, blue-green eyes flashing. “What,” he said around a mouthful of food, “the hell do you want, Archer?”

“You eat like Artoria.” He said it before he thought it, and he snapped his mouth shut. Cu was rubbing off on him.

Mordred swallowed his mouthful, raised an eyebrow, and set his fork down on the table. It hit the wood with an evident click. “You know Father? I don’t recognize you.”

Emiya shrugged, feeling unease curl in his gut. He didn’t like speaking to him, he didn’t like being civilized to him, but he needed Mordred’s strength to win this upcoming battle. “Well,” he said, voice blank, “It’s been a long time since then.”

Mordred snorted, “No shit.” He picked up his fork and shovelled another mouthful of food into his maw. “You don’t like me very much.”

Emiya gritted his teeth. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.”

“Good for you, being so perceptive.” 

Mordred waved his fork, “It’s a look I’ve been on the receiving end of multiple times before. Now, what the hell do you want.” His eyes flashed, his tone was unfriendly, but he didn’t look like he was about to jump out of his seat and attack. Perhaps he didn’t like getting normal people mixed up in Holy Grail War shit either? It was a disturbing thought, to think that Artoria’s killer could have any semblance of morals.

“I have a proposal for you,” Emiya said, swallowing down his anger, his disgust for the boy in front of him. For Cu, he was doing this for Cu. He had to deal with Mordred for Cu. “I know where Berserker and Assassin are.”

“Eh?” Mordred blinked, then he started to grin. It was a grin Emiya was very familiar with, wide and bloodthirsty and challenging. It was Cu’s grin on Artoria’s face and Emiya hated seeing it there, he hated that Mordred was similar to Cu in some way. “Berserker and Assassin? That sounds exciting. Why not have your boyfriend help?” He shoved another forkful into his mouth, chewed viciously.

Emiya froze, Mordred’s words hitting like a sledgehammer, then he jerked forwards and hissed angrily, “You know about that?”

Mordred raised an eyebrow, and, around a mouthful of food, he said, “It was supposed to be a secret?”

Emiya pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

Mordred started to laugh, loud and long. “Oh god,” he spat out, “You two are the absolute worst at hiding it! Oh fuck, that’s hilarious!”

“Shut up.” Emiya growled back at him.

Mordred continued to laugh.

Emiya jerked his head up and glared at him. “It is because of Cu that I am here today, talking to you, instead of ending your life.”

Mordred simply smirked, “Big words, Archer. You better hope you can back them up. So, tell me why you need my help instead of your boyfriend’s.”

Emiya growled in exasperation, “Assassin took Cu’s Master, therefore they have Cu -”

“Really? I’m in.”

Emiya froze, “Just like that?” He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it.

Mordred shrugged. “I’m a knight. Rescuing people is what knights do, idiot. Just tell me one thing though,” he leaned forwards, smirking, “I assume Cu wasn’t near his Master when they got snatched, so does that mean his Master got snatched while the two of you were fu-”

“Shut your mouth.” Emiya growled, feeling his face heat up.

Mordred’s smirk got wider. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“We . . . were . . . not . . . fucking,” Emiya sputtered, dangerously.

Mordred just grinned at him, a wide, knowing grin, and then turned back to his food as Emiya recovered. He started demolishing it, like Artoria would have done, inhaling it as if he hadn’t eaten in years. Emiya swallowed hard, bitter anger rising up again. He looked like Artoria, he ate like Artoria, but he grinned like Cu grinned, widely and without restraint. “Why did you do it?” The words were out of his mouth before the thought was fully formed. 

Mordred froze, fork halfway to his mouth. “Do what?” His blue-green eyes were guarded.

Emiya forced the words out of his mouth. “Why did you kill her?” He didn’t want to know, he didn’t want to know the reasoning behind the act. Because he was afraid he would sympathize, because he was afraid he would understand, because he was afraid that he would find a little bit of himself in this Saber. Artoria was in his face, Cu was in his grins, was it such a stretch that Emiya would find a little bit of himself in his mindset? And he hated the very thought of that possibility.

Mordred’s face shut down, he set his fork down, it clacked against the plate, metal against ceramic. The sound was final, echoing in what felt like a suddenly silent room. “You,” he said slowly, his voice bland, “Want to know why I killed Father?” His eyes narrowed, flashed dangerously, then he sighed, picked up his fork, finished his mouthful, and stared off at nothing. “Do you know what it’s like to live with Morgana as a mother?” His voice was cold, distant, but his hand gripped his fork so tight it bent the metal. “My siblings were lucky, most of them didn’t have to deal with her for long. I’ll give you a hint, I wasn’t her son, I was her instrument of revenge. She wanted me to kill Father.”

“Are you going to tell me you lost some kind of battle with her and was forced to kill Artoria?” He kept his voice as bland as Mordred’s but even he could hear the thread of anger, the thread of disbelief in his words.

Mordred barked a laugh, a short, sharp laugh, and something in Emiya sank because he recognized that laugh. He knew it all too well. “Hardly. Killing Father was my choice. Destroying Camelot was my choice. But Father,” and something in his voice changed, from blankly angry, to despairing, perhaps a bit self deprecating, “was everything to me. Everything. But I,” his voice went black with anger, “was nothing to him.” He spat the words, like they were poison or venom. “So I made myself be something for him. If I could not be his son, then I would be his enemy. If I could not follow him without him facing me, then I would leave him to make him face me. That was why I killed him. Not because of Morgana and what she tried to mold me into. It was Father’s choices that led to that battlefield, it was my choices that led to his death.” For a second, he sat there, his fists clenched tightly, then he loosened his grip on his fork and started to eat, sharply, angrily.

And Emiya stood there, frozen, because he knew that voice, that black anger. It was the voice of someone who had believed in something so fervently that they were lost when it was ripped from them. It was the voice of someone who had floundered in the darkness when their light was torn away. It was the voice of someone who had been cast in despair so deep all they could ever hope to do was lash out and hope something would be there on the receiving end of their anger. It was Emiya’s voice, every time he mentioned his younger self, everytime he faced him on the battlefield, every time he thought of his stupid dream and the path of pain it would lead him down.

And he hated it. He hated how he saw a little bit of himself in the boy who had killed Artoria, who had destroyed her dream. He hated the little bit of sympathy that trickled in, made him look at Mordred like he was a broken thing like he was, but Emiya refused too. Mordred was Artoria’s killer. Perhaps he was fractured, perhaps he had been lashing out, but that didn’t matter because he had ended the glory of Camelot. He had ended Artoria’s life. So Emiya, even if he understood that darkness somewhat, refused to be sympathetic. He refused.

“Do you regret killing her?” 

His fists were clenched, his nails dug into his skin.

Mordred looked at him with Artoria’s blue-green eyes.

“I don’t know.”

Emiya stood, dug out the letter, and tossed it on the table.

“Meet me there at nightfall.”

Mordred looked down at the piece of paper.

Emiya stood and left the restaurant, walked across the road, and stood in that alleyway. 

Slowly, he opened his hands.

In each palm, there were four small cuts where his fingernails had bit into the skin.

Emiya waited outside the bounded field, Carnwennan gripped tight in his hand. His cuts still stung, but he ignored them. They were insufficient to what injuries he might gain later tonight. Anger still seethed in his gut, even hours later, but it was starting to be replaced by the coldness that always came with every battle. He wasn’t like Cu, he didn’t enjoy fighting, although fighting Cu was different than fighting other people. No, Emiya didn’t face battle with a burning heart, excitement building in his chest. He faced it codly, analytically, like a problem that needed to be solved.

So he buried his rage at Mordred, his anger at himself for understanding something of what the Saber had been through, and summoned that icy cold until everything felt sharper, in clearer focus. He waited, he didn’t have to wait long.

Minutes later, there was a crash of metal and lightning against pavement, and then  Mordred straightened from his crouch, helmet up, armor on, and some part of Emiya couldn’t help but be relieved. His armor was so different then Artoria’s, it made it easier to see him instead of her. 

Emiya let go of Carnwennan, stepped into the street. “Third floor,” he muttered.

Mordred tapped Clarent against his shoulder, “Which room?” His voice was distorted, not hard to understand, but deeper, different.

Emiya pointed, and Mordred moved, a burst of red lightning. The bounded field was ripped apart, there was the crash of metal against stone as Mordred hit the side of the building, ran up the wall, and burst through the window. Emiya couldn’t help but be impressed. Why was Mordred’s Master holding him back? The boy was a monster, he might have won the war already if given the chance.

Although, perhaps his Master was afraid of the damage the Knight of Treachery would cause if given that chance.

Emiya shook the thoughts out of his head, summoned that coldness again, and then lunged through the hole Mordred had created, quickly joining the Saber on the third floor. He could already hear the sounds of fighting, Mordred’s laughter, the sound of someone else laughing, the laugh deeper with a pronounced growl.

Emiya moved on, in second he was by Cu’s side. He raised one blue eyebrow, red eyes gleaming. “Mordred?”

“He seemed like a good distraction.” Emiya shot back, summoning Kanshou and Bakuya to his hands. “Now, hold still, I don’t want to cut you.” He got to work, not targeting the chains, but the chair. Soon, he was pulling the pieces he had cut off away, until the chains hung loose and limp. Cu slipped out of them, grinning, then he lunged forwards, grabbed Emiya’s face in his, and kissed him, hard.

Emiy pulled back, gasping, his previous detached cold evaporating. “Now is not the time. Where is your Master?”

“Nowhere you’ll find her.” The voice was soft, gentle, with a crisp english accent. There was the press of a knife against the base of Emiya’s neck. Fuck, Assassin. Goddamnit.

Cu growled, a low, angry sound. His eyes burned, so red, glowing in the gloom.

“You,” Assassin said, “still have to comply with our orders, and my order is for you to sit back down.”

Cu cussed violently, stepped back, and sat, his red eyes flashing with fury. “To think I actually liked you, asshole.”

“I’m truly sorry about this,” Assassin said, “but if I don’t do this, my Master will make him do it, and I don’t want to let him out. It would be very bad for all of you.”

“You don’t want to let Beowulf out?” Emiya asked, allowing Kanshou and Bakuya to dissolve.

“Not Beowulf,” Assassin said, “Him. Trust me, he’s way worse.”

Emiya’s eyes met Cu’s, a moment worth a whole conversation. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” He said, darkly. Then Kanshou and Bakuya were in his hands again, this time reversed, and he stabbed backwards. Assassin yelped in pain, stumbling back, and Emiya twisted, Kanshou slicing widely. Assassin dodged, his own knife sliding against the black blade, sparks flying into the air. He was bleeding, blood coating one thigh and his shirt and vest on his other side. His face was wide, eyes behind the glasses panicked.

“I don’t want to do this.”

“You,” Emiya growled back, “don’t get a choice,” even though bile was riding up in his throat at the thought of where this battle would lead. He tried to summon that numbness again, but as always, Cu’s very presence made it impossible.

Assassin raised his knife, dropped it, it hit the floor with a clatter. “See, there we go. I’m no longer a threat,” he flinched as if struck, “No - I’m - I won’t -” he flinched again, “Not going - to let - you out -”

The wall exploded, and Mordred hurtled between them, impacting the other wall, breaking it, before slumping onto the shattered remains. He pushed himself up, slowly, shakily. His helmet was in pieces, he was bleeding from his mouth and forehead. He wiped his chin with his gauntlet, blood smeared across the metal. A man stepped through the other opening, Beowulf, a sword in each hand, chains connecting his wrists, blood drenching his chest from a nasty cut. There was a deep slice in his right arm, many other smaller nicks and scratches across his body. “Come on Assassin, I get that this isn’t exactly pleasant, but we have a job to do.” He said it darkly, his red eyes flashing.

Assassin flinched, “I know, I know,” He straightened, adjusted his glasses, but his eyes shifted too and fro as if looking for an escape.

Emiya stepped back, and he glanced down at Cu. The Lancer was sitting with his legs and arms crossed, scowling, his eyes burning in frustration. “Where’s your Master?” He hissed.

Cu glanced at him, “Two floors up,” he whispered back.

Beowulf glanced at them, and something in his red eyes seemed to soften. “Hey now, none of tha -”

There was a cry of pain and fury as a small bundle of metal and lightning rocketed towards Beowulf. It hit him center mass, and the Berserker stumbled back, coughing, blood splattering out of his mouth. There was the sound of metal ripping through flesh. Beowulf struck, and Mordred was thrown back again, crashing through the already destroyed wall, tumbling, rolling to his feet. There was a giant hole in Beowulf’s stomach, blood was smeared across his abdomen, dripping down his skin to strike against the floor. Beowulf looked down at the hole, looked up at Mordred, looked back at the hole in his stomach. “Well, this is going to be interesting,” he said, grinning with blood stained lips.

Mordred straightened from where he’d been crouching. The armor on his side had been completely demolished, a nasty gash bleed freely. He laughed harshly, wildly, “I’m the only person who’s ever fought the King of Knights and won. A wimp like you will be a pushover.” He grinned violently, wide and fearless, eyes gleaming in excitement and anger.

Oh god, was everyone in this bloody Holy Grail War as bloodthirsty as Cu?

Emiya looked down, Cu met his eyes, nodded, and then Emiya was in spirit form and rocketing out of the room and up. Distantly, he could hear Beowulf yelling for Assassin to follow him, his voice cut off with a grunt as Mordred used the opportunity to strike. There was the sound of a body crashing through a wall, a cry of pain. Goddamnit, the two were going to take the whole building down if they continued throwing each other through walls. 

He just hoped Cu would be able to stay out of the way as the two clashed.

Who was he kidding? Cu was going to find some way to get right in the middle of that battle, orders be damned.

His feet hit the ground of the room above the battle zone below, and Emiya jumped again, two floors up was what Cu had said, and he figured Assassin had to be on his trail. This was the second floor. Where was Cu’s Master? Not in this room, and Emiya ran out of it, started searching from room to room. The floor shook with the crash of blades two levels down, and he could imagine the damage the Beowulf and Mordred were doing. 

Not that room, not that room, there! Emiya skidded to a halt, his body reforming, Kanshou and Bakuya already in his hands. He caught a flash of the room, Cu’s Master, tied up, a girl about Rin’s age, eyes wide and scared, mouth gagged, she was in a summoning circle of some kind, runes drawn across the floorboards in sweeping arcs. Two mages guarded her, the other Masters, incantations already spilling off their lips as Emiya took form in front of them. This fast, their movements were slow, almost as if they were submerged in molasses. Emiya chose one, ludged, a flash, metal against metal. Emiya was thrown back, Assassin stood in front of the Master, still bleeding heavily from his previous injuries, glasses and hair eschew, knife back in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he panted, “but I can’t allow you to do that.”

Emiya growled and lunged, swords flashing. Assassin met his attacks, spinning his knife in a panicked defense. He was faster than Emiya, stronger too, but not as talented, a novice with the blade. Emiya attacked again, twisting his blades as Assassin blocked. The knife went spinning across the room, hit the wall, fell to the floor, Kanshou and Bakuya buried themselves into Assassin’s chest. Emiya let go, blazed past him, allowing those blades to dissolve, summoning new ones in his hands. The Master in front of him finished her incantation, a shield flickered into life between the two of them, a golden dome of solid light. Kanshou crashed across the surface, skidded off, the strike with Bakuya sent cracks spider webbing across the surface. The other Master raised his hand, shouted, there was a flash of red light. “Henry Jekyll, with this command seal I order you to unleash your noble phantasm!”

“No!” Assassin’s voice, weak and quivering and begging, “Please - you can’t!” Emiya twisted around, just in time to see Assassin, Jekyll, lift a vial to his lips. His hands were shaking, his eyes were wide and scared. “Please -” He downed the vial.

The room shook, another explosion from downstairs. Emiya lost his balance, stumbled, and when he looked up Jekyll was no longer Jekyll. He was straightening, running his hands through his hair, cackling. The smile he sent Emiya’s way was too wide, unhinged, his glasses held loosely in one hand, his once blue eyes now red as blood. He removed his hand, his hair stayed in wild spikes. His previous wounds were gone, his clothes still splattered and soaked with blood but the skin beneath unbroken. “Well now,” he said in a voice vastly different than his previous one, sharp and crazed, “this should be fun.” He tossed the glasses aside, they hit the golden barrier, shattered.

“Oh god,” the other Master said, the woman who had set up the barrier, “What have you done?”

“He can’t get to us while we’re in here,” Assassin’s Master argued, but his voice trembled.

The building shook again, violently, and Assassin moved, faster then he had before, knife once again in his hands. Emiya got Kanshou in the way, struck with Bakuya, felt a burning slice across his hand as Jekyll, but if it wasn’t Jekyll then it had to be Hyde, dodged Bakuya and slid his knife around Kanshou’s guard. He powered into Emiya, laughing wildly, and Emiya was thrown back, pain blooming in his side. He didn’t have time to recover, because Hyde was there again, all flashing blades and deranged red eyes, his laughter echoing off the walls. Emiya rolled out of the way, one leg striking out to trip Hyde, he leapt to his feat, going in for the attack as Hyde fell. Hyde rolled out of the way of the attack, flipped to his feet, moved again, fast, too fast, Emiya felt pain draw against his rib cage, another slice against his legs, with a curse, he twisted, brought a knee up, Hyde doubled over, gasping. Emiya followed his momentary advantage, Kanshou buried itself in Hyde’s side, Bakuya went to draw itself against Hyde’s throat. Pain burst in Emiya’s stomach as Hyde ducked low and jerked his knife into Emiya’s gut, twisting the blade. For a second, Emiya focused on Bakuya whistling over Hyde’s head, cutting off a few sandy blonde hairs, then he stepped hard onto Hyde’s foot, jerked Kanshou out of Hyde’s side, stabbed him again, reversed Bakuya, and stabbed down. Hyde let go of his knife and jerked out of the way, a hair too slow, a line of red blossomed across his chest, Kanshou still in his side. Emiya pulled on the connection his two blades had, and Kanshou ripped out of his side, flew to Emiya’s hand, spattering blood across the room. 

For a second, Hyde stared at him with the anger of a cornered animal. 

Sometime during their fight, Cu’s Master had woken up, her voice a shrill scream, muffled by the gag. 

The floor beneath them was shaking constantly, the sound of crashes distant but present nonetheless. 

With an angry growl, Hyde charged at him, yelling incoherently, madly. Emiya stepped forwards, allowed one of his blades to disappear, grabbed the wrist with the knife, twisted it, then buried his blade in Hyde’s chest. It was smooth and quick, but he still felt wrong, sour. He hated this, God how he hated this. The gargle in Hyde’s chest, the bloody strings of saliva as he spat on the floor. Then Hyde moved, and Emiya was thrown to the ground, and Hyde was above him, a bloody rent in his chest, knife in his hand, flashing down, laughing hysterically.

A blur of blue and red, too fast, and suddenly Hyde was tossed against the glowing, golden barrier, cracks spreading from the impact. Emiya blinked, because it was Cu standing there, Gae Bolg held in his hands, his braid still drifting with the momentum from his movement. The golden light from the barrier played across his face and cheeks, landed in his hair, picked out the different reds in his eyes. He looked otherworldly, inhuman, and Emiya could feel a great big ball of happiness bloom in his chest. 

Wait.

How the hell had he gotten out of the disaster zone downstairs? Jekyll had told him to sit.

“And fuck you too!” Cu was yelling, violently, as Hyde collapsed into black dust. His Master was wide eyed and pale faced, trembling. Beowulf’s Master lifted her chin and raised her hand. Cu’s Master had tears running down her cheeks. 

Another crash from downstairs.

Sudden silence.

“It seems,” Beowulf’s Master said, her voice barely shaking, “that we are at an impasse. You must still follow our commands, or we will kill your Master. Archer can not fight us, because if he does, you will die. Beowulf has unleashed his noble phantasm, and Mordred will soon be dead. I still control the cards in this battle.”

“Counter point,” Emiya spat out, “I take down your barrier, and kill you before you can kill Cu’s Master. I’m faster than you.”

“Cu Chulainn, I order you to defend me from Archer if he should move in this direction.” Her voice was smooth.

“Fuck you!” Cu yelled, and then he dropped Gae Bolg and crouched at Emiya’s side, fingers brushing the floor, glaring with too bright eyes. His finger’s found Emiya’s, then twined with his, and Emiya was too relieved to pull away.  He wouldn’t have anyway, he knew Cu needed the connection.

The Master’s watched them, Beowulf’s impassively, Cu’s with scared eyes and tears running down her cheeks. Jekyll’s Master was the only one who wasn’t watching them, he had fallen back against the wall, eyes wide and staring at nothing, mouth gaping, closing, gaping again, before falling into incoherent mutters. Beowulf’s Master was right, they really couldn’t do anything.

Emiya sighed, heavily, tugged on Cu’s hand. “I thought Jekyll had told you to sit.” He said it softly, gently, questioningly, as if this whole situation wasn’t spiraling beyond control.

Cu met his eyes, grinned, although it was a shade less then his normal grin, and pulled Emiya into a sitting position. His gut wound ached with the movement. “As if I would let that stop me from getting to your side.”

There was a harsh, tired laugh. “Aww, how cute. Jekyll told him to sit, not to say.” Emiya twisted, stared, Cu growled. Beowulf stood there, tall and proud, looking as if he’d been stuck through a meat grinder. He was missing his left arm, the hole in his stomach was larger, the wound in his chest still bleeding freely. The amount of nicks and scratches had tripled, there wasn’t any patch of skin on his body that wasn’t covered in bruises or blood. “Mordred put up a good fight,” he said, grinning, “I am proud to have known him. I’m here now, Master, what do you need me to do?”

His Master’s shoulders slumped slightly, she sighed, then she straightened. “Well, Berserker, I -”

“NO!” Jekyll’s Master jerked up, eyes wide. “NO! I won’t be defeated! NO!” He pulled something out of his jacket, and for a second, Emiya couldn’t understand what it was. There was a short, sharp pop, loud, too loud. Cu moved, a blur, Gae Bolg back in his hands, the barrier, already damaged, shattered into golden shards, there were more pops, the crack of metal against metal, Emiya caught a flash of Cu, eyes furious, sparks raining off Gae Bolg, then he was a blur again, and Jekyll’s Master’s scream was cut off as Gae Bolg was driven through his chest so forcefully it was buried into the wood of the wall. He stepped back, turned to stare at his Master, face stricken, eyes still narrowed with anger.

Emiya was staring too, staring at the neat round hole in the teenager’s forehead, the small trickles of blood from his wound from the one bullet Cu had not been fast enough to block, because none of them had been expecting the magus to pull a gun out of his jacket and shoot her.

“By all the gods above.” Beowulf gasped, disgust thick in his voice.

“Cu,” Emiya breathed, getting up, shock whipping his features clean. He should have recognized it, should have recognized the shape. Had he not been through enough wars to know it well? How would Cu take this? Not well, not well, he knew that.

Cu looked at him, that fury still in his red eyes, then slowly, it drained into sadness. Because he had failed, and Emiya felt bile rise up in his throat, thick and bitter. Cu moved, didn’t say anything, just moved to Emiya’s side, close, as if he was afraid Emiya was going to die if he looked away for a second. Heat radiated off his body in waves, Emiya reached out to grip his shoulder, and Cu, after a second, reached up with one hand to cover his. He squeezed, painfully, fingers digging into Emiya’s skin. 

“Well,” Beowulf’s Master said, unconcerned, “That was something. Berserker, kill Archer.” Not a command seal, but still an order, delivered in a cold voice. Cu began to growl, low and long and vicious.

“Master,” Beowulf said, “you’ve already made me help kidnap Cu and kill Mordred in this mad blackmail scheme. Allow Cu to have his battle with me first, before he follows his Master into death. And please, give him time to say his goodbyes.” His red eyes flashed dangerously.

She stared at him for a few seconds, then sighed, “Fine, you sop. One minute, then you better kill him.”

Beowulf nodded, his eyes dark, and Emiya felt gratitude build in his chest. Beowulf was giving them time, it would be stupid to waste it. So Emiya turned to Cu, tightening his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, gently, softly, “I’m sorry.” 

Cu looked at him, eyes sorrowful and still furious at the same time. Emiya saw them there, the deaths Cu hadn’t been able to prevent. He bet Cu still remembered the name of every Master he had ever failed. “Not your fault,” he murmured, then he crashed against Emiya, lips pressed against his, as if he was trying to make sure that they were both there and alive, as if Emiya was the only thing that was stopping him from drowning in rage, but for all the force in that kiss, his lips didn’t feel as solid as they should have. He pulled back, his red eyes burning, “I know my wish for the grail now,” he said it softly, his voice clogged.

“What is it?” Emiya murmured back, running his fingers over Cu’s smooth cheekbone, wiping away the tears that hadn’t spilled.

Cu closed his eyes, leaned into his touch, “It’s for us to have a chance.”

Emiya hummed slightly, “That sounds like a good wish, I think I’ll steal it for myself.”

Cu chuckled, and something in Emiya lifted at the sound. He would be okay, not right now, but eventually. They would both be okay. “You do that,” he murmured back, then he stepped away from Emiya, cracked his knuckles, and Gae Bolg flew into his grip, Jekyll’s Master’s body crashing to the ground. “I’m ready.” His voice was no longer soft, but neither did it carry the wild blood lust that usually infected it when a battle was near.

Beowulf brandished his sword, his loose chain swinging, “Good.”

They both moved, spear against sword, two violent blurs. Emiya watched them, two titans clashing, sorrow and black disgust rising in his throat. This day has been a mess, one problem after another after another. The hits had just kept coming, and he felt like sinking to the ground and passing out. But he didn’t, he just watched as Beowulf and Cu clashed, sparks flying. Beowulf was holding on well, for a man who’d already gone toe to toe with Mordred, and had come out on top, even if he had lost an arm in the process. But Cu, even as he disappeared, was a whirlwind, flashing across the room, a blur, strikes strong enough to send the hulking Berserker stumbling. He was impossibly strong and fast in those final moments, too fast, too strong, and Beowulf was sent skidding back with each attack, teeth gritted in a pained grin while Cu’s eye flashed like fire. And Emiya, on the edge of their clashing battle, watched as Cu took a hit to his chest that carved between his ribs and cut deep into his lungs as he lunged forwards and buried Gae Bolg into Beowulf’s heart.

Beowulf groaned and stepped back, “You got me.” His remaining sword fell to the floor, and he shook his head, grinning, red eyes flashing. “Damn, you’re good, I can see why Archer’s head over heels for you.”

Emiya rolled his eyes, flushing hotly, “I am no-”

Cu cast a grin his way, and Emiya’s words died in his throat. He looked a little bit lighter, after that battle, as if it had washed away some of the sorrow his Master’s death caused. “What?” He said, his voice soft, slightly teasing. He was fading, sparks breaking off his form, drifting away. “Not even a little bit?”

Emiya sighed, shaking his head. “Maybe a little bit. But that’s an extreme maybe.” When he looked up, Cu was gone. He closed his eyes, sighed again, then summoned his calm, his cold detachment. He would see Cu again, next Holy Grail War, where they could talk about what had happened tonight. He looked at Beowulf. He too was fading away, his solid form becoming transparent. “You killed Mordred?”

“Well,” he grimaced, “I didn’t stay to see if he disappeared or anything. But he did take a direct hit from my noble phantasm, and he didn’t get up afterwards.”

“Delightful,” he looked at Beowulf’s Master, “Are you going to let me go?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to give me a choice?”

“No.” He turned, then left the room, walked down the stairs, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Finally, he sat down at the entrance of the floor Cu had been kept, placed his head in his hands and sighed. God . . . an absolute mess. This whole night was an absolute mess. He could return to his Master, at some point in the night he had stopped yelling in Emiya’s mind, but, what then? Just to be ordered to kill himself? He was almost positive that the wound Hyde had left in his gut and side and leg were going to do that for him if they didn’t stop bleeding anytime soon. He groaned, leaned back, and thought about Cu’s words.

He wanted them to have a chance, and wasn’t it a lovely dream? To not wake up in a summoning circle, to not fall asleep to death and pain. To have all the time in the world, not just stolen moments and conversations. It was a beautiful wish, and only reachable if one of them reached the Holy Grail with a Master who didn’t want the Root. But suddenly, despite the fuck up that tonight had been, Emiya had hope. Hope, it was such an odd feeling, warm and soft in his chest. New and fragile, and he couldn’t help but want to protect it.

He wouldn’t give up, he couldn’t give up, not on this.

He would . . . hope.

He felt a smile slip onto his lips, sad, bittersweet, hopeful.

This would work.

They would make it work.

The door to the stairwell cracked open.

Emiya jumped to his feet, Kanshou and Bakuya appearing in his hands, staring at the sight before him. It was Mordred, using Clarent as a cane. His armor had been broken completely, his red undergarments tattered. One arm hung limply, he had two black eyes, a broken nose, a busted lip. Bruises littered his body, his skin glistened red with blood, some patches dried, others still wet and shining, his breath wheezed as if his rib cage had been crushed. “Oh,” he said, blue-green eyes flashing, “is it over already?”

“You're not dead?” Emiya said, shocked.

“I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me,” he grinned, a pained thing, but then that grin dropped, as if it had never been. “I did pass out for a bit,” he shrugged, winced, “just woke up. Your boyfriend not with you?”

Emiya didn’t have the strength to deny it, or the strength to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. “No, he’s dead. So is Jekyll and Beowulf, we’re the only ones left.”

“Aww, I was going to bust that asshole Berserker’s behind.” Mordred sighed, “Whelp, if he’s dead, then I’m going to settle this with you instead.” He straightened, held Clarent up with one hand. An impressive feet, as he was weaving and the sword was practically as tall as he was. “On guard, asshole.”

Emiya stared at him for a second. Their conversation had been almost civil, without the acid beneath his words. He couldn’t hold onto his anger, not with this hope fluttering in his chest, warming his limbs. “Let the best man win.”

Mordred snarled, eyes flashing, then he threw himself at Emiya, Clarant striking in wild arcs. Emiya bent away from the strikes, tripped over a step, tumbled down the stairs, head over heel, jarring his elbow, hitting his head, Mordred leaping after him. He rolled away from the attack that rent the ground, shifted to spirit form, entered the empty street, Mordred hot on his heels. He reformed, twisted to block the overhand strike, Mordred’s heel hit his chest, he was sent skidding back. “CLARENT BLOOD ARTHUR!!” The words were yelled, sharp and hard and furious, a desperate cry because Mordred was on his last legs and Emiya knew it. 

Emiya allowed Kanshou and Bakuya to disappear, threw his hands up and yelled, “Rho Aias!” The flower opened up in front of him, the purple petals forming, barrier after barrier after barrier spinning out in front of the flower. The bright beam of crackling red light hit it head on, stronger than expected, and Emiya could see Mordred holding the hilt with both hands, red lightning playing over his broken arm. He saw Mordred’s face in that moment, the blood, the bruises, the blue-green eyes, Artoria’s face with Cu’s range of expressions, lit with the red light from his noble phantasm, eyes burning, teeth gritted. He saw him, the killer, the kid, the weapon, as Rho Aias broke, layer by layer, shattering into fragments that were blown past his head. He could have summoned Kanshou and Bakuya, thrown them. Mordred would not have been able to block unless he stopped his noble phantasm. Perhaps he should have, for Artoria.

Artoria would not have wanted vengeance.

And Emiya did not want anyone else to die today,

So as the last flower broke, and the red light of Mordred’s noble phantasm consumed him, Emiya chose hope.

Chapter Text

The rooftop was empty when he got there, but Emiya wasn’t worried. Cu would make it if he could, and then they would talk about what needed to be done. Until then, he would wait. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long, there was a Servant’s presence, fast approaching, there was the tingle on the back of his neck as the Servant slipped out of spirit form, there were his footsteps, there was the familiar “Hey, Emiya~” even if it was slightly more subdued than normal.

Emiya turned, smiled softly, “Hey Cu.”

Cu stared at him with his red, red eyes, and then moved, a blur. He crashed into Emiya, and Emiya stumbled back as the Lancer buried his face into his neck and wrapped his arms tightly around Emiya’s back. Emiya froze in shock, then returned the hug, setting his chin on Cu’s warm shoulder. “I told my Master,” Cu said into his neck, breath skipping over Emiya’s skin, and even though this was a serious topic, Emiya couldn’t repress a shiver.

Or his surprise. “You told him?”

Cu nodded, “He isn’t so bad, not at all. Get this, he’s an archaeologist from Ireland, currently on vacation. When I appeared and introduced myself, the first thing he did after falling over was bombard me with questions about my myth.” He chuckled softly, his voice dipped. “So I told him about us, because I thought he would understand. We need to hide this better, Emiya,” His fingers gripped against Emiya’s jacket, bunching the fabric, his voice shaking. And Emiya knew why, Cu wasn’t the type to hide things. Not at all. “But we also need to tell the Masters that will understand, they are affected too. No more screw ups.” His voice darkened slightly, dangerously, and Emiya knew he was thinking of the teenager with a bullet in her head.

“No more screw ups,” Emiya repeated, “but I’m not telling this one. Classic mage, you know the deal.”

“Wonderful.” Cu muttered.

“Mhm,” Emiya agreed, wishing that Cu was a bit shorter so he could stick his chin on top of his head. But no, he liked the fact he could look Cu in the eyes, that he didn’t have to bend to kiss him, and the fact that Cu fit against him nicely . . . no, he was not focusing on that. Not at all. Not until they figured out to prevent another mess, not until they knew who to prevent any more unnecessary deaths. “Daytime.”

“What?” Cu’s voice was shocked, he stiffened slightly in surprise.

“We should meet during the day instead of at night,” Emiya continued, “Most of the Masters will be sleeping at that time to recover magical energy, and their Servants should stay with them to keep them safe. Normal clothes, so we don’t use up so much magical energy or give off such a big Servant signature. We use Lancer and Archer instead of each other's names unless we are positive that we aren’t being watched. We keep our meetings to a minimum.” He fell silent, thinking, “I’m going to stop sending the flairs.”

“Emiya!” Cu pulled back in shock, staring at him.

“Shush, I’m not done yet. I’ll still make a big enough commotion that you’ll be able to recognize it’s me, just nothing as flashy or as obvious as a flare. If you do come to help, I’ll have to shoot at you too.”

Cu nodded slowly, “Okay, but no rescuing me from noble phantasms.”

“No rescuing period,” Emiya shot back, “Unless there is only one other servant left besides us.”

They fell silent at that, thinking. “Sounds like a plan,” Cu said eventually, “I don’t think there’s much else we can do.” Except to stop seeing each other completely, and that wasn’t a choice Emiya was willing to make, and he doubted that Cu would want that either. Cu’s lips twitched into a small grin, “So, head over heels, huh?”

Emiya closed his eyes and groaned, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Cu kissed the corner of his mouth, a feather light touch that sent sparks skidding across his skin. “Really?”

“Not at all,” he managed, voice strangled.

Cu laughed, loud and wild, and Emiya felt something in his heart unclench. “Not even a little bit? Because I was sure you’d said you might have been.”

Emiya struggled to keep a straight face, “I said maybe.”

Cu leaned forwards, red eyes glinting softly in the low light, murmured teasingly, “Maybe’s not a no, is it?”

Emiya smirked at him, “You were dying, I figured I could throw you a life line.”

Cu pouted, “So cruel, Emiya~,” and then he stepped back, moving so he could sit on the edge of the building. 

Emiya was left swimming in the suddenly cold air, cursing him, cursing him for leaving him wanting like this. He stepped forwards, sat beside him, and Cu laid his head on his shoulder, automatically, as if they were meant to sit like this, side by side, leaning against each other. “Did you have a wish before?” Emiya wasn’t sure why he asked it, why the words took form on his lips then took flight, but it felt like the right thing to say.

“No,” Cu said, “I always came for the fight. But it’s a nice feeling, having something to fight for beyond the battle. Did you have one?”

“Yes,” to turn himself onto a different path, to end his younger self, “but I like this one better.” Hope instead of regret, love instead of hatred, happiness instead of bitterness. His past still hung over his head like a dark thundercloud, but with Cu by his side, it suddenly seemed manageable.

“That’s good.” Cu murmured. 

Emiya smiled softly, “Yes, it is.” He hesitated, then pushed on, “If we are the last one’s standing, I’m going to throw the fight. With your Master, you’ll be more likely to get the wish without being sacrificed.” His lips twisted slightly.

Cu cursed softly, “I hate that, I mean, I’ll fight you, but I don’t want to kill you.”

“We throw the fight so whomever has the most suitable Master wins,” Emiya argued, “It's the only way this is going to work out.”

Cu growled, low and long, “. . . fine.”

Emiya closed his eyes, leaned back slightly, tipping his face towards the sky. “We can do it, we will do it.” Hope, he was hopeful, and that made this impossible task seem less impossible. Get a Master who didn’t want the Root, win the War, get the wish. Three steps, that was all. Three steps.

“I like hearing you so confident in this plan,” Cu said, his voice light but slightly solemn at the same time. “But you’re right, we can do it. We will do it.”

“Good,” Emiya said, opening his eyes so he could stare down at the blue head on his shoulders. As always, he was captivated by the sight of Cu’s hair, so many shades of blue, darker and lighter intertwined, glinting in the darkness as if lit with an inner light. “You realize,” He murmured gently, “that you’re going to have to leave soon. So people don’t wonder about the two Servant signatures and the lack of a battle.”

Cu groaned in despair, “Why are you always so right?” He whined, pulling back and twisting to stare at Emiya with his soft red eyes. “I love you.”

Emiya stared back, felt the words catch in his throat. “I -” He wanted to say it, didn’t want to say it at the same time. Was afraid to say it. But the hope in his chest made it easier. “I love you too.” The words left his lips, barely a whisper. Emiya had just enough time to see Cu’s red eyes widen in delight before he crashed into him, warm hands cupping Emiya’s face, lips pressed against his. Emiya pulled back, gasping for breath. “Cu - ” another kiss, harder, more desperate, and Emiya had to force himself to pull away. He didn’t want to, he wanted to stay, to twine his fingers in Cu’s hair and pull him down and forget the world. “ - isn’t discrete,” he managed, the words despairing. Did he really sound so needy? It seemed impossible, but still . . .

Cu pulled back, red eyes flashing, glowing in the darkness. “Damn you,” he breathed, but he didn’t sound particularly angry, his voice wild and lilting, “but . . . you said it.” No, it was glee infusing his voice, delight and happiness in equal measure.

Emiya flushed, “It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled, even if it was, even if he felt lighter for saying those words, even if he felt happier. “Now scram.”

Cu laughed in delight, moved to kiss him again, “As my boyfriend demands,” he whispered against his lips, and then he was gone, in spirit form and rapidly retreating.

Emiya collapsed onto the rooftop, hand over his flushing face, groaning in dismay. But he didn’t try to stop the smile that had crawled onto his lips.

Holy Grail War after Holy Grail War after Holy Grail War, flashing by like chapters in a book. Sometimes they got minutes, sometimes not even that. Sometimes they were extremely lucky, and got hours and even rarer a whole day or two. Brief moments between battles that took lives and threatened the foundations of the world. Sometimes, and this was even rarer than their whole days together, they were summoned without the other, a battle where they could throw everything in without having to see the other’s face above crossed weapons. So time ticked on, and opportunities were gained and lost and gained again. 

Cu told Emiya about the few times he had failed his Masters, about Bazett and the girl, whose name had been Sueno Kisa, about the few others that had been killed on his watch. Emiya told him about the wars he’d been through, the people he had failed to save, the people he had killed. They talked and mourned and healed, so they could laugh and joke and make the most of the time they had. They fought and hoped and died, only to be summoned again to start the cycle over. For the most part, they were able to keep it a secret, sometimes, though, they failed, sometimes things went from bad to worse, slipping downhill and dragging everyone along with them. But they continued on, fighting, dying, living, loving, despite it all.

Hopeful that things would change.

Certain that they would make it through, together.

It was a bright, burning light, brighter than his normal summons, almost too bright, burning his eyes, blinding him. But it didn’t last long, and soon he was coalescing, taking shape, speaking, “Lancer-class Servant! I have bee -” Cu’s words died in his throat, because things were rapidly becoming clear that something was very different with this summoning. First off, the room, modern, with technology, not some dusty old basement, and it had an almost clinical feel, as if it was some type of hospital or research facility. Secondly, his Master, the girl he supposed was his Master, was wearing a uniform and was giving him a wide, welcoming grin. He’d never had someone grin at him before on his summons, well no, there was that one Master, but he had been bat-shit insane. Thirdly, two people were watching, staring down from a platform overlooking the chamber, one a man with orange hair, the other, a curvaceous woman in renaissance clothing, was obviously a Servant. 

The girl, the Master, jumped in at his pause. “Hi! I’m Fujimaru Ritsuka, but everyone just calls me Gudako. It’s very nice to meet you, Cu!”

Cu blinked, “Ah, I didn’t give you my name?” He was starting to remember something now, the Throne of Heroes, something about saving the world.

Gudako scrunched up her nose and rubbed the back of her head awkwardly, “Well . . . the thing is . . . uh, well, I think you’ll have to meet them, it sounds like something they should explain, not me.”

Them? He looked up at the woman, who was now leaning over to the man and muttering in his ear. Her blue eyes were sharp and inquisitive, calculating. “So, this is Chaldea, right?” That had been the name the Throne of Heroes had used, if he remembered correctly.

“Yep,” Gudako said, jumping up and down on her toes, “We are currently working to restore the foundation of humanity, and are summoning Heroic Spirits like you to do so. We have quite a few already, whom you’ll be fighting with to save the world! Or fix it, that might be the better description for what's going on. Anyway, up there is Dr. Roman, head of the medical bay and current director of Chaldea, the woman beside him is the marvelous Da Vinci!”

“Okay . . .” Cu said, leaning on Gae Bolg for support. His mind was spinning, spinning, spinning, but something stood out of the rush of words. Other Heroic Spirits. He would be fighting with other Heroic Spirits. Was it possible? Was he that lucky? He didn’t remember winning a Grail, he was certain he hadn't won the last war. His last memory was being killed by his own spear, not by his Master, thankfully, but by some Berserker with black mist floating off his armor. So did that mean -

A girl entered the summoning chamber, interrupting his swirling thoughts. She had purple hair, purple eyes, glasses, a uniform both different and similar to Gudako’s. She stared at him with surprise and delight, then rushed to Gudako’s side. “You did it, Senpai!”

“Yes,” Gudako said, smirking. “I did. Did you doubt me?”

The purple haired girl averted her eyes, coughed awkwardly, then turned to Cu, leaving Gudako to stare at her in open mouthed shock. “Hello, I’m Mash Kyrielight, Senpai’s personal Demi-Servant. Has she offered the tour yet?”

“Tour?” He still felt a little unbalanced, but he was regaining his feet, hope burning hot in his chest.

“Yes, tour!” Gudako said, recovering from her shock at Mash’s blatant avoidance of her question, “Chaldea is a large facility, we normally give a tour to the new servants while explaining different rooms, yadda yadda, the whole spheal. You can either take it with me and Mash, or someone else. I know they will want to take you on one, but if there is anyone else you can think of, I’ll be happy to see if I can track them down.” 

Cu couldn’t take it anymore, lunging forwards and grabbing Gudako by her shoulders, gently of course. He wasn’t going to harm his Master. “Is there a red cloaked Archer here?” He asked, desperately.

“Emiya?” Gudako asked, blinking repeatedly.

Cu had a moment to realize that she knew who he was talking about, that Emiya had told her his name, both delight and a bit of jealousy rising up. Delight because that meant Emiya was opening up, jealousy because that meant it was no longer their secret. Then a rush of warmth that overpowered both because if she knew his name that meant he had to be here, that he was here. Then Mash spoke, her voice warm, a knowing glint in her eyes. “He’s normally in the kitchens right now.”

Cu let go of Gudako, spun around to stare at Mash, “And where are the kitchens?”

“Just follow the scent of food,” Gudako mumbled, a bit dazed. “That will lead you to them.”

Cu wasted no more time, slipping into spirit form and racing out of the room, materializing in the corridor beyond, and yes, there was the scent of cooking food in the air. His heart felt like it was a great big ball of fire, hot, too hot, burning inside. He thought he heard Mash giggle, “You should have expected that, Senpai,” then he was moving, rushing off towards that smell, careening down hallways at a reckless speed. There were people, normal people in uniforms, robots, and Servants. So many Servants. He thought he recognized a few as he flashed by, and he definitely recognized the hulking form of Beowulf. He would have to thank the Berserker for his act of kindness, and get a proper spar in with him as well. Whispers trailed in his wake as he ran, and he caught only snatches of speech, pieces to a puzzle that had yet managed to click into place.

“Is that -”

“ - another one -”

“Somebody tell -”

“ - you -”

“ - Proto -”

“CasCu isn’t -”

Then he was sliding to a stop before a set of double doors, staring at them intensely. The kitchens, and Emiya was in there. Emiya was in there, in the kitchens, in front of him. They were on the same side, working towards the same goal. No longer enemies, but allies, more. He felt like he was floating, high on delight. But he slowed his breathing, forced himself not to rush in and throw himself at the Archer. If Emiya was in the kitchens, then he was cooking, and if Cu interrupted him while he was cooking, this would not be the reunion he was hoping for. So instead, he slipped into spirit form, walked inside, and reformed against a wall, leaning against it, watching.

And there was Emiya, delightful, handsome Emiya. He wasn’t wearing his armor, but normal clothes, black slacks, a button up black shirt, sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms, a black apron, tied at the back, speckled with flour and other mystery ingredients. He was mixing something in a bowl, wondrous eyes narrowed, brows furrowed in concentration, hair slicked back, the harsh kitchen lights playing on the planes of his face in a way that should have been illegal. He looked relaxed, at ease, and Cu loved the sight. Especially the sight of Emiya in an apron. Cu needed to get him one, perhaps a pink one with ‘Kiss the Cook’ written on it. Emiya might kill him, but it would be worth it to see his face. 

A woman walked into the room, not through the kitchen doors, but from another area, further in. Red hair, blue eyes, flour smeared across one cheek, Servant signature. She looked at him, looked at Archer, looked back at him. Cu raised a finger to his lips, and she smiled, nodded, eyes twinkling, then she turned to Emiya, hands resting on her hips. “Are you still in here? I thought I told you to take a break hours ago.”

Emiya winced slightly, “Boudica, we have four Artoria’s here. FOUR. I can barely keep with one of them, four is a nightmare.” 

“I’m sure the rest of the cooking staff could keep up with them if you give them a chance.” Boudica said, a bit sharply, “You have been working for days now, I’m surprised you haven’t passed out yet.” She sent a significant look Cu’s way.

Cu frowned, that wasn’t good.

“Servant, Boudica,” Emiya grumbled, “I don’t need sleep.”

Bodica tapped her foot against the ground, “I’m starting to think you’re hiding.”

“I am not hiding,” Emiya shot back.

“You are too. You’re hiding from CasCu.”

CasCu? He’d heard that name in the hallways. What had Emiya said? Four Artorias, that didn’t make any sense, but if there were somehow four Artorias . . . did that mean there could be other versions of himself running around? CasCu did have Cu in it, and it would explain how Gudako had known who he was. But if Emiya was hiding from one of his other selves . . . then was that self hitting on him? Cu wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Should he be relieved that another version of himself shared his tastes? Annoyed that another version of himself was hitting on his boyfriend? This was confusing as fuck.

The metal bowl Emiya had been using hit the counter with a bang. “I,” he growled, “am going to kill that man.”

“Sounds serious, Emiya~. Should I be worried?” Cu said the words lightly, playfully. Emiya had set his bowl down, it seemed like a good time to intervene.

Emiya groaned, started to turn, “CasCu, I swear to God, you are not supposed to be in he-” he froze, his marvelous eyes wide, his mouth parted slightly in shock.

Cu just grinned at him, “I’m not CasCu, bu - mpph!” Emiya crashed against him, driving him painfully against the wall, his lips pressing against Cu’s, hard, violent, cutting off his words. Cu was hardly opposed, he wrapped his arms around Emiya, clutched him tightly, kissed him back just as desperately, the taste of Emiya, of apples and baked goods, filling his mouth. It felt like coming home, like he had reached some sort of safe haven or harbor, and this time, finally, he knew it would last. They had their chance now, and Cu would make sure to make the most of it. So he kissed Emiya like there was no tomorrow, even if there was, no longer aware of the red haired woman, who had averted her eyes to give them some privacy even if she was smiling triumphantly. But, as much as Cu wanted this to continue forever, breathing was a thing. He pulled back, gasping for breath, his head thunking against the wall, “What?” He grinned, “Miss me?”

Emiya glared at him, his grey and gold and brown eyes bright, and kissed him again, before pulling back and resting his forehead against Cu’s. “Four months, Cu. Four months! I have been waiting for four months! Its a fight to save the fucking world, I though you wouldn’t miss it. I thought you would come, but you didn’t! I was starting to believe . . .” He trailed off, the rest didn’t need to be said.

“Never,” Cu said, pressing his lips to Emiya’s once again, “I will always come for you.” Another kiss. “I promise.” Another, “always,” he tightened his hold, kissed him harder. 

And Emiya kissed him back, only pausing to murmur, “I know,” against his lips. Then it was just them, and maybe the wall that was supporting Cu, in the world. A bubble of happiness, of desperation and longing and love, together at last. It was all that mattered.

“Boudica, Emiya’s making out with a Cu.”

“I can see that.”

“But it’s not sanitary, woof.”

“Give them this.”

“But if Nightingale finds out, she’ll kick us all out of the kitchen, and then burn it down to sanitize it. And then we won’t have a kitchen any more. So how will we feed everyone? That would be bad.”

“I hate to agree with this poor, deluded creature, but I really don’t want to see the kitchens destroyed in a mad sanitary spree.”

“Hmm, you do have a point, and if any of the children try to sneak in for a snack . . . very well.” A cough, “ahem, you two. That’s enough of that, save it for the bedroom.”

Cu growled and clutched Emiya's shirt tighter. As if. Emiya wasn’t going anywhere, because Cu finally had him and he wasn’t letting go for anything. But Emiya was pulling back, away from him, face flushed, eyes gleaming, gasping for breath. Or at least, he was attempting to pull back, Cu however, still gripped the back of his shirt with white knuckles, refusing to let go, because part of him believed that this was some kind of dream, and the minute he did let go they would be back to their normal song and dance. “Boudica’s right,” Emiya panted, voice regretful, “we do not want to get Nightingale on a rampage.” 

Cu groaned despairingly, looked into Emiya’s eyes pleadingly. “But Emiya~”

Emiya’s already flushed face went redder. “Don’t give me that look. I have work to do. I’m in the middle of cooking.”

“I can do that,” said one of the new voices, “I just finished my part of dinner.” Cu glanced past Emiya to see that Boudica had been joined by two other women, both with fox ears and tails. One wore red and had cat paws and cat booties, the other wore blue and had a more regal expression. 

“Tamamo,” Emiya argued, twisting in Cu’s arms, “Not only do I have that dish to do, but at least five others, plus I still have to teach Gudako how to co -”

Boudica interrupted him, in what seemed to be a mock, sorrowful voice. “I guess Cu will have to go on his tour by himself.”

“I can teach Master how to cook tonight!” The red clad, fox tailed woman said, jumping on her toes.

Emiya’s head jerked, he stared at Boudica in horror, “I can’t let Cu go through the halls by himself! He’ll start a fight with Achillies, or Diarmuid, or both of them at the same time! And if we let Tamamo Cat teach Gudako to cook, the kitchen really will be on fire!”

“Wow,” said Cu, a bit amusingly, “I can’t believe you have to think about this. Actually, I can. Such dedication from my boyfriend.”

Emiya twisted around to stare at him, face on fire. “I’m n-”

“Fiance then?” Cu offered, grinning.

“CU!”

“Emiya,” Boudica said, aghast, “You’re engaged and didn’t tell me? When is the marriage? What are the plans? You are not allowed to cook your own wedding cake.”

Emiya’s head jerked to Boudica’s delighted expression, to Cu’s grin and back again. “It was a joke,” he hissed, his face flaming, “Only a joke."

Cu put on his best innocent face, “But you accepted my proposal.”

Emiya glared at him, “A joke proposal.”

“You don’t know that.” 

Emiya growled, released his grip on Cu’s armor, and slapped his hand over Cu’s mouth. “You need to shush.” He turned to Boudica, Tamamo, and the other woman, “Look, you shouldn’t believe anything he says, he’s a terrible jokester.”

“I am not,” Cu said against Emiya’s palm, with mock hurt. Then he kissed his palm, because it was there. Emiya jumped, but didn’t remove it. Fine, he could play this game. Cu kissed him again, then, for good measure, licked him. He tasted like flour, egg, and spices, and Cu hummed approvingly. Emiya, with a vicious curse, yanked his hand from Cu’s lips and glared at him, ears red. 

Boudica was grinning, “Cu,” she said, “Emiya has been in this kitchen for days now. He needs a break. How long do you think you can keep him occupied?”

“Boudica!” Emiya yelped.

Cu grinned right back at her, “How long do you need me to?”

Tamamo chuckled delicately, “Good answer. A couple days, maybe three.”

“I think that’s within my capabilities,” Cu said, smugly.

Emiya groaned, and went limp in his arms, his head thudding against his shoulder. “I hate you,” he muttered despairingly. 

“You love me,” Cu said, delighted, still beaming at his co-conspirators. He wasn’t sure whether the fox-eared woman in red, Tamamo Cat, counted; she was currently running around, pulling out stuff to help her teach Gudako how to cook. His co-conspirators, or at least the two that did count, smiled back. It was a united front, and Emiya had no chance.

“You should probably take him away now,” Tamamo said, straight faced, “He has been missing you ever so much.”

“I bet.” Cu said.

“I hate you all.” Emiya grumbled, and Cu ran his fingers through Emiya’s soft white hair consolingly.

“No, you don’t,” Boudica said, “You hate that fact that we’re trying to -”

“Get you laid!” Tamamo Cat broke in.

Cu burst into laughter, while Emiya just groaned loudly. “Hmm,” Boudica continued, “I was going to say that he hates the fact we’re kicking him out of the kitchens, but I guess that works too, now scat.” 

“As you wish,” Cu said, smirking, pushing off the wall and dragging Emiya out of the kitchens. He gave a token resistance, then gave up, and soon, they were back in the hallway, holding hands, Cu grinning, Emiya a flushed mess. “So,” Cu said cheerfully, his voice lilting, “Where to next, Emiya~?”

Emiya groaned again, but leaned against him, “We’re going to be behind on dinner thanks to you,” he grumbled.

Cu tried to look apologetic, but failed, cracking up into laughter, “It’s nice to know that I’m as special as cooking to you.”

“Shut up.” Emiya muttered.

Cu spun around to face him, grinning widely, “Make me.”

So Emiya did, quite forcefully, pressing him against the wall again, kissing him as if the world was ending, and Cu kissed him back, just as desperately, hands cupping his face, running through his soft hair, clutching the fabric of his shirt. Ecstatic that they had this chance. Delighted that they finally had all the time in the world. “Seriously?!” A voice, his voice, and Emiya groaned in despair against Cu’s lips, “Right in front of me? I’m hurt, well and truly hurt. I might never recover.”

“No,” his voice again, rougher with a pronounced growl, “You’re not.”

“Should we stop them?” His voice a third time, younger, “I’m on rotation in like, two minutes, I won’t have time to say hello if they keep on making out for much longer.”

“Great,” Emiya grumbled, “It’s the peanut gallery,” but he stepped back slightly, giving Cu time to peel himself off the wall.

Cu didn’t go far, stepping close to Emiya’s side so he could hook an arm around the Archer’s shoulder. He looked at . . . words failed him. There was a dark red and black scorpion or dinosaur person with his face. There was another person in a truly awful Hawaiian shirt that Cu wanted immediately, with longer, lighter hair and his face. And there was his younger self, wearing armor he hadn’t worn since he saw Scatheth fight monsters in her own revealing battle attire, a fight he had been so certain he could replicate, spandex and all. He wasn’t sure what to say, what should he say to three other versions of himself?

His younger self didn’t have such reserves, he lunged forwards, grabbed Cu’s free hand, shook it wildly. “Hey older me! I’m you, but better. Everyone calls me Proto, that,” he jerked at Hawaiian shirt wearing Cu, “Is CasCu, and that” he jerked at hulking dinosaur Cu, “Is Alter. I'd love to talk to you more, but I’m on rotation. See you around!” Then he blasted by Cu and Emiya as he dashed down the hallway.

“HAVE FUN ON YOUR DATE!” CasCu yelled after him, cupping his hands around his mouth.

There was the sound of somebody running into a wall as they missed a turn. “IT’S NOT A DATE!”

“SURE IT ISN’T!” CasCu dropped his hands, turned to Cu and Emiya. There was a very familiar look in his red eyes, and Emiya’s face had gone blank, which meant internally he was about to blow a gasket. “So,” he started.

He never got to finish.

Alter’s tail whacked him in the head, and he stumbled forwards with a yelp. “Don’t start,” he growled, his red eyes flicked at Cu, then at Emiya, then back at Cu. “We just came to say hello. If you have time to talk later, you can come and find us.” Then, with one of his clawed hands, he grabbed CasCu by the scruff of his Hawaiian shirt and started walking down the hallway, dragging the other Cu behind him.

“Oi!” CasCu protested, “Let me go you over grown porcupine! I ain’t done talking yet!”

Alter growled, and CasCu shut up.

Cu blinked, feeling dazed and very, very confused. “Date?” He started.

Emiya shrugged, “it’s not a date, he’s about to rayshift. CasCu just likes giving Proto a hard time.”

Okay, next up, “Why is there me but a dinosaur?”

“Medb got a grail.”

Like that explained things at all. “Why are you hiding from CasCu?”

Emiya groaned and leaned against his side. “I may have gotten into an argument with him on the first day here about how he’s not my Cu. He was insulted, proclaimed that he could do anything you could do but better since he’s you but older and wiser and has more experience. So he’s been trying to seduce me.”

“For four months?”

“Yes.” It was practically a growl.

“Your Cu?” He couldn’t help it, he was starting to grin.

Emiya’s ears went red, and his words were mumbled. “Well, there’s four of you, I have to point out one of you as mine, idiot. Come on, this way.”

Cu beamed, “Better idea,” then he scooped up Emiya in his arms, looked down, grinning widely, “So, Emiya~, where to next?”

Emiya’s face went scarlet, he crossed his arms and glared at Cu, but his grey and gold and brown eyes were shining. “I am not going to be carried like this.”

“I could run?” Cu offered, “that way no one would see you.”

Emiya groaned, sighed theatrically, then hooked his arms around Cu’s neck and kissed his jaw, “Asshole,” he grumbled, “Go down this hallway, make a right.” Cu did so, feet pumping as he sprinted off, grinning delightedly. The mess of three other Cu’s could be dealt with another day, for now, this was all that mattered. “Left here,” Emiya muttered against his neck, and Cu nearly tripped as he turned, the sensation of Emiya’s lips against his skin making his brain short circuit for a second.

“Come on,” he hissed, when his ability to speak returned, “don’t do that while I’m running.”

“Right again,” Emiya said, and Cu could hear the laughter in his voice. Antagonizer. Everyone thought Cu was the flirt, but in all reality, it was the man in his arms who pushed buttons whenever he could. Every freaking chance he got.

Cu turned, feet skidding across the floor, saw a sign flash by, barely caught the words. SERVANT’S QUARTERS. It was written in large letters on a golden plaque bolted into the wall. He began to laugh, wildly, delightedly, “Emiya~, you naughty, naughty Archer.” His voice darkened slightly in approval.

Emiya pulled away from him slightly so Cu could see his smirk, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” Cu shot back, skidding to a stop, and setting Emiya on his feet so he could give him a proper kiss, pulling back only to whisper against his lips, “I love you.”

And Emiya, Emiya, his grey and gold and brown eyes burning, his face flushed, a smile on his lips, in a voice warm and soft, murmured back, “I love you too.”