This is an epilogue/side story of sorts based on some outtake scenes I had while writing the story. They all take part after part 1 of FGO so beware spoilers for that and Fate/Extra.
To say he was having an off day would have been an understatement. After S.E.R.A.P.H. and being re-summoned to Chaldea as the grim caricature of himself he was when hunting Kiara in life, he'd been rather on edge about just having the demonic bodhisattva in the organization's presence. Perhaps this aged, exhausted form altered his temperament more than he thought; Nero and Tamamo had a lot more trouble getting a raise out of him than usual and he was almost convinced Gilgamesh of all people was trying to hide a motivational speech in his usual mockery of the "Faker".
Nero had also decided to throw a fancy dress party to welcome the new Chaldean servants and celebrate the achievements of the old guard. He really did wonder what the point of them sticking around was if they were nothing more than a glorified cleanup crew, especially when he'd ended up on the wrong side of the cleanup twice.
His moody thoughts were interrupted by a hand on the brown straps of his pitch-black suit. Spinning around, his thin golden eyes met a pair of large piercing ones of the same color, accompanied by a runic tattooed pair of eyes not far behind.
"Enough of this, Shirou." Artoria Alter's brown jacket and tight black pants are clearly meant to pair with his outfit and her black horned crown. "We are going to Nero's Gala."
"I'm a little out of the mood for it, Saber." He tries to be gentle, but his voice is scratched with cynicism and flashbacks to a massacre he really did not want to remember.
"Neither are we." Cú Chulainn Alter's raspy voice grumbles as he adjusts his glaringly pink tie that screams this was the fastest way to shut Medb up. "Her damn knights roped her in somehow."
"And you're trying to make me suffer the amusement of my friends." He dryly replies. "I'm still adjusting to this Saint Graph, Cú. It's an exciting time to be alive."
Artoria gives him a little squeeze on the shoulder and smirks. "You would not be the first to have had that privilege. Are you that concerned of souring the mood, Shirou?"
"Yes. I may also be missing a 'common theme' with everyone else." Even without the tainted nature of this Saint Graph affecting his demeanor, he'd have rolled his eyes at Nero's excited chatter about having the older Servants dressed based on their exploits – particularly the one that required those that fought in Okeanos to wear 'tasteful swimwear'.
"Oh, that's perfect then." Cú Alter gives him a toothy grin. "Our theme's gonna be 'Party Crashers'."
"Indeed. We shall take every opportunity to sour the mood, albeit only lightly." Artoria gently presses against him with a gentle smirk, pecking him on the cheek. "Think of it as our tribute to the fallen."
It's such a ridiculous idea that he can't help but laugh. "Alright, you two win. Feel free to drop the act if you start to enjoy yourself, though."
After effectively dodging Medb 50 times (he's counted because he has nothing better to do), Cú has finally been convinced to shed his upper suit coat, unfitting pink tie, and apparently even his Berserker class as the blue-vested Irishman cheerfully chats with Marie Antoinette and Sakata Kintoki over boar hunting, of all things.
He hasn't said much, mostly keeping to himself near one of the drink tables and occasionally humoring Nightingale with a scenario of removing a bullet. He names an angle of entry and a gun model, and she painstakingly describes the ideal procedure to remove and treat it. Nero and Tamamo have come over as well to chat (or perhaps the better term is "tease") him with Meltlilith's presence, and he manages to give a pretty decent impression of his usual self when he sees Gilgamesh almost trip over his own kimono in the back of the room.
"Pardon me." A rich, regal trill of an older woman interrupts his thoughts as he turns around to witness Artoria at her full height, draped in a white dress with sea green ribbons, two strokes of radiant gold hair draping down each side of her face like a graceful mane.
Even when forced into his old, bitter age, he has to admit she looks very beautiful.
"I trust you're not feeling too out of place, Shirou."
"I've had company." He answers and allows himself to smile a bit. "Decided you can make this party worth your while, Saber?"
"Perhaps." She gives him a warm smile, just like she had on that fateful day. "But I will need to ask you a question."
"Hm?" He quickly connects the dots as she does a slight curtsy.
"Will you dance with me?"
Yellow eyes meet green ones and he's starting to feel very amused now. For all the time they've spent fighting, have either of them learned to dance?
"I hope my combat movements are adaptable to it." He settles for a joke, replying with a slight bow to indicate that yes, he is okay and his thoughts haven't been locked on his failures this entire night.
"I hope so as well – I've Rin and Sakura to outperform now." She takes him by the hand, but it is clear to everyone on the dance floor that it soon becomes a paced fight for control. Both of them are in the mindset of trying to lead, but her slow, graceful movements somehow match the pace with his quick, reflexive ones and he's able to end by letting her spin out and pulling her back in tightly.
"C'est très bien!" Marie calls from the back, as Mozart nods while flipping note pages. "I'd love to see more, Mr. Emiya."
He grumbles in amusement as the twin-black tailed hair of Tohsaka Rin, her eyes colored red with the influence of Ishtar, swoops towards them in a red kimono, with the blue woven dress of Sakura Matou, host of Parvati, not far behind. "This was your idea, wasn't it, Saber."
"Perhaps." Saber's replies, her back arching gently as she pecks him on the cheek. "You have a lot of catching up to do."