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Notes: Written for assistedrealityinterface and a tumblr prompt meme. Feel free to leave them in my ask box.
Title: the edge we fall from
Fandom: Fate/Zero
Pairing: Lancer/Waver
Words: 975 words
Prompt: insanity
the edge we fall from
Whenever Waver closed his eyes, the images of Caster's lair flashed across his eyelids and he snapped them open again. The wind whipped against his cheeks and made his eyes sting, but he couldn't close his eyes. He tried to concentrate on something else – the roar of the wind in his ears and the warmth of Lancer's chest against his side.
Unlike earlier, he didn't look down at the city blurring past as Lancer leapt from one roof to another; soaring above the city with effortless grace. The sight had been fascinating earlier, now he feared that he'd vomit again if he saw just how high above the ground they were.
The only constant were Lancer's arms, holding him tight and close. Warmth seeped through and Waver couldn't deny the feeling of safety – of protection – he felt with them around him. Lancer would not let him fall.
The return to the Mackenzies was quiet, Lancer entering through Waver's unlocked window and setting him gently on his feet. When Lancer turned away to lock it behind them, Waver's knees gave out and he collapsed; the weight of all they had seen – what they had done – crushing down on him.
He could remember the blood. The bodies – so small and helpless – mangled and defiled in so many, many ways that he couldn't even have hoped to ever identify just how many victims there had been. There had been nothing they could have done. Except burn everything that remained.
What kind of Heroic Spirit would–?
The warm familiarity of Lancer's arms settling around him and drawing him close against his strong chest broke his train of thought.
“Lancer...” His voice caught in his throat and he shuddered. The chill of the night sunk in, Waver shivered violently. He felt Lancer's arms tightened around him, like he could fight them off with just his body heat alone.
“I...” Lancer hesitated. He was shaking just as much as Waver was. His voice was rough as he forced the words out, “Forgive me.”
He wanted to say something, but he was shaking too badly. Instead, he reached up and fisted his hands into the rich green fabric of Lancer's bodysuit. He buried his face into Lancer's chest, where he could hear Lancer's heart beating against his ear. The steady sound sunk in, calming Waver as he took in deep, gulping breaths of air.
One of Lancer's hands was running up and down his back in a soothing motion. Waver leaned into the touch, hungry for it. Comfort like this was nearly alien to him; his grandmother had never been one for gestures of affection – with little exception.
Waver wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but the stress of the day and the steady beat of Lancer's heart eventually lulled him to sleep.
He did not dream.
Sunlight streaming through the window falling on his face woke Waver. He made a small noise of complaint, trying to bury into the warmth that surrounded him. His mind was still in sleep land, so it took several moments before he realized that there were long, callused fingers carding through his hair.
He would have shot up if it wasn't for the fact that those fingers knew exactly where to caress to make warmth bubble up from his stomach. Waver couldn't remember the last time he had woken up feeling so... content.
“Good morning,” Lancer said. His voice was soft, fingers still moving gently through Waver's hair.
Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Waver realized – cheeks turning bright red when he did – that his head wasn't resting on a pillow, but was nestled on Lancer's lap. And Lancer wasn't wearing his armour or bodysuit. Instead, he was wearing a soft pair of pajama pants and a matching dark shirt.
“Morning,” Waver replied, rolling over. He rubbed at his eyes and looked up at Lancer, ignoring the twinge in his chest when Lancer's hands fell away from his hair. “Where'd you...?”
Lancer took a deep breath, “Your – ah – grandmother came in last night after you fell asleep. I didn't think it would be good to leave you alone so she made an... assumption about our relationship. She said that you should have told them sooner.”
Waver stared. Then he shot straight up, “And you didn't say anything?!”
“She had every reason to believe such. I moved you to the bed so that you would be more comfortable and, well...” Lancer was refusing to look at him, a dusting of pink had settled high in his cheeks. “It seemed inappropriate to leave you alone, so I stayed with you.”
“That... that wasn't necessary.” He was flattered. Very flattered. But it was Lancer and Lancer being Lancer meant that he would be willing to do anything, no matter how uncomfortable it might make him, for Waver's well-being and protection. And that probably extended to pretending to be his – his what? Boyfriend? Lover? What? “You don't have to say that or pretend–”
Lancer still wasn't meeting his eyes, the pink in his cheeks darkening, “I – well – if you – that is – I suppose that if you were willing it wouldn't... have to be that way...”
Waver stared. He seemed to have lost his voice. Lancer looked like he was hoping for the ground to open up and swallow him or that he contemplating disappearing into spiritual form.
“Are you–”
“Yes.”
Lancer finally met Waver's eyes, though his cheeks were still a very bright shade of pink. But his eyes were warm and, as always, earnest in their honesty. It was impossible not to doubt his conviction.
“O... okay.”
Lancer smiled, and it completely lit up his face. His eyes were a molten shade of gold. Carefully, as though he was afraid that Waver might bolt, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Waver's forehead, “Thank you.”
Really, Waver thought he should be the one to say thank you.
FIN.
Title: the edge we fall from
Fandom: Fate/Zero
Pairing: Lancer/Waver
Words: 975 words
Prompt: insanity
Whenever Waver closed his eyes, the images of Caster's lair flashed across his eyelids and he snapped them open again. The wind whipped against his cheeks and made his eyes sting, but he couldn't close his eyes. He tried to concentrate on something else – the roar of the wind in his ears and the warmth of Lancer's chest against his side.
Unlike earlier, he didn't look down at the city blurring past as Lancer leapt from one roof to another; soaring above the city with effortless grace. The sight had been fascinating earlier, now he feared that he'd vomit again if he saw just how high above the ground they were.
The only constant were Lancer's arms, holding him tight and close. Warmth seeped through and Waver couldn't deny the feeling of safety – of protection – he felt with them around him. Lancer would not let him fall.
The return to the Mackenzies was quiet, Lancer entering through Waver's unlocked window and setting him gently on his feet. When Lancer turned away to lock it behind them, Waver's knees gave out and he collapsed; the weight of all they had seen – what they had done – crushing down on him.
He could remember the blood. The bodies – so small and helpless – mangled and defiled in so many, many ways that he couldn't even have hoped to ever identify just how many victims there had been. There had been nothing they could have done. Except burn everything that remained.
What kind of Heroic Spirit would–?
The warm familiarity of Lancer's arms settling around him and drawing him close against his strong chest broke his train of thought.
“Lancer...” His voice caught in his throat and he shuddered. The chill of the night sunk in, Waver shivered violently. He felt Lancer's arms tightened around him, like he could fight them off with just his body heat alone.
“I...” Lancer hesitated. He was shaking just as much as Waver was. His voice was rough as he forced the words out, “Forgive me.”
He wanted to say something, but he was shaking too badly. Instead, he reached up and fisted his hands into the rich green fabric of Lancer's bodysuit. He buried his face into Lancer's chest, where he could hear Lancer's heart beating against his ear. The steady sound sunk in, calming Waver as he took in deep, gulping breaths of air.
One of Lancer's hands was running up and down his back in a soothing motion. Waver leaned into the touch, hungry for it. Comfort like this was nearly alien to him; his grandmother had never been one for gestures of affection – with little exception.
Waver wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but the stress of the day and the steady beat of Lancer's heart eventually lulled him to sleep.
He did not dream.
Sunlight streaming through the window falling on his face woke Waver. He made a small noise of complaint, trying to bury into the warmth that surrounded him. His mind was still in sleep land, so it took several moments before he realized that there were long, callused fingers carding through his hair.
He would have shot up if it wasn't for the fact that those fingers knew exactly where to caress to make warmth bubble up from his stomach. Waver couldn't remember the last time he had woken up feeling so... content.
“Good morning,” Lancer said. His voice was soft, fingers still moving gently through Waver's hair.
Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Waver realized – cheeks turning bright red when he did – that his head wasn't resting on a pillow, but was nestled on Lancer's lap. And Lancer wasn't wearing his armour or bodysuit. Instead, he was wearing a soft pair of pajama pants and a matching dark shirt.
“Morning,” Waver replied, rolling over. He rubbed at his eyes and looked up at Lancer, ignoring the twinge in his chest when Lancer's hands fell away from his hair. “Where'd you...?”
Lancer took a deep breath, “Your – ah – grandmother came in last night after you fell asleep. I didn't think it would be good to leave you alone so she made an... assumption about our relationship. She said that you should have told them sooner.”
Waver stared. Then he shot straight up, “And you didn't say anything?!”
“She had every reason to believe such. I moved you to the bed so that you would be more comfortable and, well...” Lancer was refusing to look at him, a dusting of pink had settled high in his cheeks. “It seemed inappropriate to leave you alone, so I stayed with you.”
“That... that wasn't necessary.” He was flattered. Very flattered. But it was Lancer and Lancer being Lancer meant that he would be willing to do anything, no matter how uncomfortable it might make him, for Waver's well-being and protection. And that probably extended to pretending to be his – his what? Boyfriend? Lover? What? “You don't have to say that or pretend–”
Lancer still wasn't meeting his eyes, the pink in his cheeks darkening, “I – well – if you – that is – I suppose that if you were willing it wouldn't... have to be that way...”
Waver stared. He seemed to have lost his voice. Lancer looked like he was hoping for the ground to open up and swallow him or that he contemplating disappearing into spiritual form.
“Are you–”
“Yes.”
Lancer finally met Waver's eyes, though his cheeks were still a very bright shade of pink. But his eyes were warm and, as always, earnest in their honesty. It was impossible not to doubt his conviction.
“O... okay.”
Lancer smiled, and it completely lit up his face. His eyes were a molten shade of gold. Carefully, as though he was afraid that Waver might bolt, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Waver's forehead, “Thank you.”
Really, Waver thought he should be the one to say thank you.
FIN.