Dagaz - Dawn and day, unity, breakthrough, the ideal.

A/N: I posted this ages ago but got embarrassed and deleted it SO. Here we go again, with a couple of updates here and there. Mentions of alcohol and smoking, descriptions of being drunk and also a little NSFW. Wrote this for my boyfriend.


The night was alive in the Emiya residence.

The living room was cozy, warm, and smelled of the best cooking in town. While Shirou, Saber, and Illya gathered around the kotatsu for their second helpings, Taiga had already passed out in her room after several rounds of drinking games and the other guests were watching TV, exchanging laughter and smiles all around. It was the image of an ideal family gathering.

Almost, at least.

Two servants in red and blue, long-time rivals, continued to drink, challenging each other in intense drinking games in the corner. Shirou had already scolded them for being too loud, so they begrudgingly took themselves away from the main gathering to the guest room. Lancer had challenged Archer to shots, to which Archer couldn't decline - as if he'd let that terrible spearman win one fight. That was never going to happen.

As the night quietened, everyone scurried off to their respective rooms to sleep, leaving the duo alone in the quiet of the night. Shirou made them promise not to break anything, gaining a thumbs up from the troublesome blue servant and a grunt of acknowledgment from the Archer in red. For a while, they awkwardly sat in silence, unsure of what to do now that they were alone. They felt like they should say something, but neither knew what. Just, something to break the tension and sidelong glances.

As usual, Lancer was the one to break the silence.

Lancer stood and threw a noticeably long look at Archer. "You. Outside. We're goin' for a walk."

"Come again?" Archer tilted his head and frowned. The sudden head movement made his head spin and he grimaced at the feeling.

The blue spearman's smile widened to a grin. "Just wanna talk. It's nothin, swear." And with that, he took himself outside and began to casually wander down the road, bottle in one hand whilst the other fumbled for a cigarette in his back pocket. The chain clipped to his belt clinked subtly with the motion.

Confused but now curious, Archer followed suit with a noticeable stumble in his step. He did not catch up to the rival servant for some time, refusing at first to be caught dead just walking beside him, not without a sword in hand at least. Thinking back, he found it pretty amusing actually - the dog asking him to walk with him. He wasn't objecting to it though, strangely enough - he wasn't going to let Lancer keep anything hidden from him.

Lancer stopped beneath a streetlight and leaned against the post, taking a long drag of his cigarette. As he exhaled the smoke, he lifted his head to find Archer stood a couple of feet away. He laughed.

"Oi, I don't bite. Wanna smoke?" Lancer casually offered Archer a cigarette, to which he lifted his hand and shook his head, declining the offer. Lancer shrugged one shoulder and returned it to its pack. "A'ight then ya hipster. More for me."

"So... What's this about, Lancer?" Archer finally asked, cautiously leaning against the brick wall with his arms folded. A defensive gesture that was difficult to take seriously when he was obviously leaning to one side, then the other, unable to stand straight, and his face flushed red. The walk from the Emiya residence to this spot had caught him off guard and suddenly he felt even drunker than ever before.

"Jeez, you're such a shutoff, Archer. Jus' relax." Lancer grinned and patted his companion on the shoulder, to which the other man jerked away and mustered the best glare he could. At the same time, his lip quivered into a ghost of a smile - he didn't have many friends, and the friendly gesture did not go unnoticed even if it was from this rival servant who supposedly hated his guts.

Archer figured he wouldn't get an answer. He couldn't really argue though - it wasn't like he hadn't sought out Lancer in the past to just hang out before. Maybe Lancer was just pining for his attention again. What a hopeless fool. He broke the silence first, sounding surprisingly sober considering the state he was in.

"You're... Still wrong, you know. About what it takes to be a hero, about pride. I cannot see us being friends or anything else other than two servants who fight each other with every Grail War," Archer began, "and if you think I'm about to buddy up with you, you're sadly mistaken. You are an enemy to me, nothing more." He finished with his head tilted back a little, trying to come off as cold and uncaring as he usually did, but Lancer didn't buy it. Not with the slurring of Archer's words to top it off as well.

Lancer snorted and tapped the end of his cigarette, smiling. "Have you not been paying attention to this relationship? Have we ever agreed on anything? Fightin' is pretty much all we have ya know." Now finished with his smoke, he tossed the end into the gutter, where the last wisps of smoke died out into the air.

Archer straightened at that choice of words. "Don't call it a relationship. This is nothing more than... Than-" He found himself stumped for a moment. The alcohol was enough to make his mind swim on its own, let alone some mind games about his relationship with some asshole "Hero" who he was actually more fond of than he would openly admit.

Curse that damn dog.

"This is nothing." Archer concluded.

"Are you suuure?" Lancer asked, smugly grinning at him.

They looked at each other for a long moment.

Under the influence of alcohol, everything seemed like fun. Conversations that would be dull under normal circumstances would become thrilling with the loss of filter and a burning desire to be brutally honest. There was a small voice quietly nagging in the back of Lancer's mind, reminding him that he would not feel this open tomorrow and that his actions would have consequences, but he was beyond the point of caring. Just live in the moment, as he would always say, consequences be damned. Burn brightly before dying out as he was cursed to endure every lifetime.

So, those few moments of silence were all Lancer needed. He pushed himself off of the wall and closed the gap between himself and the archer, looking at him for a long moment. Archer met his eyes with a frown, but somewhere deep down, he knew what Lancer wanted. He leaned forward to meet him.

Lancer slammed his face into Archer's and kissed him. Hard. He held his rival's face in both hands to prevent his escape. Archer gasped and tried to pull away in surprise, but the other man's hands refused to let him go. The man in red caught on that he would have to fight back - he refused to let this dumb dog win - and leaned into the kiss, at first unsure and slow, but soon matching his partner's own speed and intensity as he got used to the idea.

The spearman's kiss was seeped in dangerous passion. A promise of realness, of primal desire, something once restrained now let go. With it, he told the counter guardian that he embraced himself as he was, rather than hiding as a copy of romanticized heroic idols as Archer did. Lancer was the real deal, as much as Archer hated to admit that. He probably never would, not even with vodka and wine threatening to tease drunken admissions out of him. Lancer was impulsive, reckless, but true to himself, making the most of his days even with his curse - it was admirable. He was a hero. He was what Archer wanted to be.

No, Archer wouldn't have this. He shut off that train of thought.

"D-don't kiss me just because you don't wanna hear what I have to say!" Archer protested with a growl as he managed to pull back for air. "You know I'm right!"

"Jus' couldn't bear listening to you spout that hero of justice drivel a second longer." Lancer quickly countered with a teasing tone. They kissed again, this time more fiercely, and Archer grew more desperate, fingers twining into Lancer's hair to hold him close. A grind of hips and a rake of nails against the back of Archer's neck came in reply, drawing a needy sound. Lancer pulled away, wanting to keep Archer needing more like the bastard he was.

Finally came Archer's reply. "You..." Archer narrowed his eyes. "You're terrible. Do you always talk so much crap?"

Lancer's grin widened and his expression shifted to one of determination, taking that as a challenge. "Only when it works you up this much," he smirked and took a swig of his drink with one hand, dangling the other over Archer's shoulder, "so yes, always. Yer just too easy."

That was it.

Archer caught the spearman's shirt and spun him, slamming him so that his back was to the wall. Lancer's eyes widened in surprise and his breath snatched in his lungs for a second.

"Oh. You're just begging for someone to shut you up now, you damn dog. Who do you think you are?" Archer asked him in a low voice, brows furrowed dangerously.

Lancer growled under his breath at the dog insult. Damn that Archer. Damn him and his incessant need to push all of his buttons at every opportunity.

Damn him, and the fact that Lancer loved it.

Lancer took a breath. "If you think tha's enough to shut me up, Archer, then you-"

His rival deliberately brushed his lips against his, very softly. Not a kiss. Not yet.

Lancer's face quickly flushed bright red at the teasing gesture. Archer chuckled at the sight, pulling away slightly. "Ah, Lancer... You have a reputation for being mouthy. But that's when you're with anyone else. They just don't know how to play you, do they? You're easy, aren't you?"

It was maddening. It was exhilarating. A bolt of confused heat shot through Lancer's stomach before he finally collected himself, his confident smirk returning quickly to his face as he turned back around. "Wow, you shut me up for three seconds. Mus' be real proud of yerself, Archer." Now it was his turn. He glanced away for a moment before meeting Archer's intent stare. "You know," he said with a smirk, "If you keep havin' me up against walls like this people will think ya have a thing for me."

Archer raised a brow and smirked right back. "Will they now? Then I suppose I will have to take you down before anyone finds out."

"You want me to go down on you Archer? Let's not pretend you could handle that without begging for it now. We're pretendin' ya have dignity ya know." Lancer replied in a hushed voice, leaning closer to the archer in red.

"This coming from the dumb mutt who practically begged me to pay attention to him? Not once, but every time we met? You are no better." Archer countered with a hint of smugness to his tone.

"Then I guess we're both as dumb as each other. Is' always been that way between us, right? Wantin' each other's attention I guess."

The pair let the mutual admission hang in the air for a moment, and in that moment, Lancer's hands seemed to move on their own, drifting down to Archer's hip and, with uncharacteristic gentleness, herded the servant closer.

Archer glanced down at the touch and felt his face flush all over again, his eyes shooting back up to Lancer's with a questioning and intent expression.

"Listen. Not gonna say it ever again. Ever. I's probably the drink even makin' me say crazy fuck off shit. But..." Lancer paused and took a breath. "I meant wha' I said. When I said you lacked pride." He stopped to read Archer's expression before continuing, almost expecting a sword to the face for that, but it didn't come - whether it was the drink making him more docile or whether it was somehow newfound respect, he didn't know. "Look at yerself. Ya have everythin' to be proud of. Ya survived hell. Over an' over. You can keep up with the best of 'em, includin' me."

Archer's brow furrowed subtly in worry at where this was going. He didn't know how to process praise, especially not from his supposed enemy. Lancer saw this and gave a reassuring look, or, as reassuring as he could with his face bright red from intoxication and the disbelief that he was even hearing these things right now.

"You're a lotta things. Insufferable. Got no self-esteem. Stubborn. Social skills? Nonexistent." Another pause as his hand drifted up Archer's back towards his shoulders. "But... Worthless ain't one of 'em. It's not shameful to be proud of who you are. You should be proud of everythin' you've done in your life. Ya know better than most how sometimes th' only one you can depend on is yerself. Don' be your own enemy, Archer. We got enough 'a those in these Wars as it is."

Archer's expression softened and his lips parted a little in surprise. "Was that a genuine compliment, Lancer? With no strings attached?"

Lancer smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "S'ppose so. B'don't get used to it, that was just a one-off 'cause I'm feelin' nice."

His partner chuckled. "You flatter me, Lancer."

Lancer snorted at the reference to one of his own lines in a previous war. "You remember that fight that well? Even down to my quips? Damn. Tha's just proof that you think of me too much." With that, he wordlessly lifted one hand and set it on Archer's chest, then gently traced the rune "Dagaz" in the middle. As it glowed and then faded, Archer lifted one hand and took Lancer's in his own, as if making to push it away.

"I... Do not know what you just did. Was that a curse of some description? Should I expect Gáe Bolg to materialize in my chest in my sleep?" Archer reacted with a chuckle, too enamored with the seemingly gentle gesture to actually be concerned about harm coming to him.

"It's just a rune. Means "The ideal", hope, gentle change. Some bullshit like that. Think it suits you." Lancer explained with a shrug of one shoulder. Before Archer could let go of his hand, Lancer closed his around it.

Archer smiled. "Thank you. That... That sounds better than a curse."

A painfully familiar voice completely broke the mood.

"Lancer! Archer! Where did you go?!"

Archer spun around and sputtered. Practically tripping over his own feet he held one arm in front of Lancer, as if shielding him from view. His stance softened once he realized it was just the kid, and a disgruntled huff came from him.

"There you are! I thought you guys might be fighting again!" Shirou exclaimed. He skidded to a halt and leaned one hand against the street lamp, panting. He glanced between Lancer and Archer and smiled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Oh. Were you guys having a Grail War talk?"

Archer shrugged and turned away slightly, glancing back at Lancer, who smiled and held his hands up in defeat.

"You got us, kid. Just talkin' about Grail War strategy. In private." Lancer lied through his teeth, but not without a rather un-subtle hint at the end that made Archer's face heat up just enough to get a smirk from the spearman beside him.

Shirou narrowed his eyes and took on a thoughtful look. "You know, for two guys who apparently hate each other so much, you spend an awful lot of time up close and personal."

"And you spend a lot of time getting into other peoples' business. We will return soon." Archer responded, making a grand effort to sound sober now. It seemed to work, as Shirou nodded and began to walk home, satisfied that the two weren't tearing up the streets with deadly weapons and explosions.

Once he was out of sight, the duo exchanged amused looks. Wordlessly, Archer took Lancer's hand once more, and Lancer let him. They began to walk home under the cover of the night, now side by side. Archer leaned into Lancer slightly as his balance faltered a little, and Lancer made sure to match his slower pace.

"Ya better not regret this tomorrow. Don't make me look like an idiot now."

"Brilliant people shine more brightly than ordinary ones. They never regret or agonize over what they've done-"

"And there's the hero drivel again. It almost makes you sound smart, ya know."

"Shut up. I was complimenting you."

"You flatter me, Archer."

Lancer took two cigarettes from the pack in his pocket and handed one to Archer, who took it this time.