Archer x Lancer_I DARE YOU

Chapter 12: Alter Cu

Lancer is frozen in place, by the solid arms wrapped around him, and the weight of the Berserker pressed to his back. The smell of blood permeated from the other man, he could feel the warm rouge liquid seep through the fabric of his clothes and smother his skin, as the man rested his head on the curve of his neck, breathing heat into his skin.

His entrance from earlier, indicated the blood was his and somehow, some strange part within Archer pitied him. Was it the face that gave the effect? Even if it was Lancer's face, it shouldn't have bothered him but seeing a man with the same face, wounded and struggling...an uneasy mercy grips his heart tight.

"I found you..." The voice says behind him, in hot shuddering breaths. "At least, the other you."

Archer raises an eyebrow. The other you? Was this really Lancer but in a different dimension? It sounded ridiculous to the likes of Archer. If there was ever another version of Lancer, he should be twice as annoying and loud, but this one doesn't seem to be the case. But how could he judge? There was only one statement shared between them and Archer is not sure on how to respond.  This Servant spoke to him so familiarly, but couldn't the same to a stranger with only the likeness of a face.

"You're wounded," Archer says, stating the obvious.

That ridiculously merciful part of Archer makes him sigh and slowly turn to the man, who obediently unwraps his hands without resistance. Once Archer had fully faced him, he could finally see him in another light, not the terrifying Berserker than entered the room but a different Cú Chulainn, bathing in his own blood.

Red eyes burned into him, radiant with power, his body brimming with chaos but it fades when he takes Archer's hand with his clawed ones, and cradles it lovingly unto his bloody cheek. He closes his eyes and hums in satisfaction, the armoured tail of spikes slowly waving behind him, like a cat curling to the warmth of a fireplace.

"I don't mind, I've found you," he repeats, purring into his hands. His skin was hot but in a feverish way, and Archer blushes at the small display of intimate affection. Whatever did his other self do with this Berserker to reach this level of familiarity? Archer wonders whether he's unintentionally intruding into a relationship that wasn't his.

It was strange, very strange but Archer's hand was still on his pale face and the silver-eyed man doesn't remove it, taking in his chance to study him in close proximity.

Red jagged tattoos are drawn under his eyes, and underneath his hood, his long dark hair is still tied by a golden ornament. He looks so familiar but as far as familiarity goes, the rest of him is built as someone else, the sharp teeth that lines his mouth and his lips flattened into default grimace. And he was taller too, by a head or more he wasn't sure, he felt much smaller in comparison.

Archer didn't think that the mistress of this prison realm would go as far as wound him this badly, he thought that she would have preferred to keep them, her playthings, in pristene condition. However thinking back on the trials he and Lancer had endured so far, what would have awaited them was a trial that may have sent them to a fate like his.

Not entirely sure with what to do with the wounds the second Cú Chulainn had sustained, Archer gathers his options. He remembers their objective, the relics they were supposed to hunt in this place, before all the distractions. Chances are, at least one of them bridles healing magic. It would probably be too dangerous to wait out his wounds, out in open space like this where 'she' owns the domain and oversees their every move. And this Servant's Master, if he had one at all, they wouldn't be here to provide the mana to heal him significantly.

Afterall, Archer knew the Berserker of the current war was not this one. 'She' could have altered dimensions as she wished.

"Let's find a relic, one might be able to heal-" Archer begins to propose, pulling away his hand but Berserker doesn't allow it. He swallows Archer's wrist with his large hand, with a pull of defiance to match his uncompliant expression.

"Stay," he says, in a low calm voice that rumbles from the back of his throat. With an annoyed twitch of his brow, Archer was about ready to argue or leave him altogether, but upon meeting his gaze, he freezes.

The fiery gleam in his eyes had been reduced to something likened to the gentle glow of embers, into an impossibly loving gaze, one beyond his comprehension.

It was enough of a distraction before Archer registers a hand gently pushing him down to the ground, and the large shadow of the man looming over him. The man hovers above him, staring at him and Archer lies intensely below him, waiting for his next move.

Much to his surprise, the man sinks down to closely hug him from his waist, resting the side of his face on the surface of Archer's toned abdomen. Heavy as he was, he lies beside Archer, avoiding the rest of his body from sprawling over Archer's legs.

Archer remains still, with only his hips pinned on the spot but it's the thoughts in his mind that immobilizes him. He wanted to be angry, had it not already been subdued just earlier.

"She'll find us," Archer says raising himself on his elbows, looking over the man who already seems enthralled by sleep. With closed eyes, the other replies, "I've escaped her eyes. She won't find us here, and if she does, the other one will buy us time."

"Is it the other Emiya then?" Archer asks.

Cú Chulainn doesn't answer, he simply tightens his grips around Archer and rubs his head into Archer, as the pillow-turned-human he has become.

"Listen to me," Archer complains but the Berserker's tail simply appears to push him back down to the floor and gently brushes his cheek before settling back. Silent as the Berserker may be, he was demanding and unluckily, Archer's stuck with him until they find their way out, or at least, hopefully find the original one so that he doesn't have to bother with this one alone.
__________
I live to worship Alter Cu! ❤❤❤❤