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Didn't Even Make It	By : ArashiLeonhart Category: +. to F > Fate/stay Night Views: 51995 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: TYPE-MOON, Fate/stay night, and all related characters are not mine. I am still a poor starving writer that makes no money on this.

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Didn't Even Make It (to the Hospital)

Caster held the knife to Shirou’s neck. “So, my beautiful little sword, would you truly endanger your Master so?”

Shirou grimaced at having fallen for such a stupid ploy, especially when they had already discovered that Caster was the type that layered in trickery to her actions. The illusion Saber had cut before hand was nothing more than a ruse and Caster had sidled up behind Shirou like the proverbial cat cornered the mouse.

“Don’t list—” Shirou tried to say, but quieted as Caster pressed the knife in closer to his jugular.

“So you would hide behind a captive, Caster; I assume you understand that you cannot defeat me without resorting to such dirty tactics?” Saber said, her voice clear of any discomfort.

Shirou was glad to hear that in her tone; maybe, he thought, she had come to trust him fully as a partner.

“Release your sword, Servant Saber,” Caster said, ignoring the question. “And then come to me, slowly.”

Saber’s eyes met Shirou’s.

He nodded as much as he could against the dagger.

The swirl of wind removed itself from the golden weapon, and Saber dug the blade into the ground. She held her gauntleted hands up and approached slowly. “You do understand, Caster, upon my word as a knight: I will show you no mercy for your treachery.”

“Save it, little one, and approach,” Caster said.

Shirou watched, eyeing the distance between them, until Saber had stepped just out of reach from any knife-jab Caster could throw, but close enough for a sword-strike. He glanced once to Saber, then to his left slightly.

“Trace, on!”

It didn’t matter that he felt Caster’s dagger dig into his shoulder and backside as he dove to the right. He knew he would be safe; Caster was no good at close-combat, he could tell, and Saber—

Saber neatly fielded the blade he had produced and took one deep swing.

A flash of golden light and then one less figure stood in the yard.

Saber gingerly helped Shirou back into the house. The cut, though not deep, had caused a gash that ran from where his left shoulder met his neck down between his shoulder blades to mid-back. His shirt hung partially away, cut at the neck, and he moved stiffly, obviously trying not to twist his shoulder or back muscles in any fashion.

“That was…very skillful of you, Master,” Saber said. He dared not to turn to look at her, but could detect the faint smile in the quiet tone of her voice.

“You mean the part where I charged in blindly into a trap and got taken hostage by my enemy, right?” He grinned.

“I am politely ignoring that part for now, since you are wounded. I would hope the injury is enough to sustain an argument itself.”

He risked saying it anyway. “It worked, though, even if it wasn’t part of the original plan.”

Saber gave a faint little sigh.

The living room had piles of the golem bones about, though the magic that had summoned them was slowly wearing off and their forms were fading from sight. Rin was standing in the center of the room, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. Illya was on the floor at her feet, not moving.

“What happened?!” Shirou said, unable to contain the panic he suddenly felt.

Rin huffed. “I clocked her one when she refused to stay out of the way.”

A long silence.

Shirou shook his head, then twitched in pain. “I…just…ugh. Forget it.”

Rin eyed him. “You did something incomprehensible again, didn’t you?”

“What gave me away? No, don’t say it. That was sarcasm.” He gave her the same grin he gave Saber. “We made it, anyway. More or less in one piece. And we’re both still functional this time too!”

“Yes, when you need to qualify with ‘and we’re both okay this time,’ there is certainly something wrong with how you are going about things,” Rin said. “You should get that looked at.” She motioned to the area of his neck that was now starting to crust with drying blood.

“I don’t suppose I could just check into a hospital this time, huh?”

Rin gave him the are you stupid? look.

“Well, you know, Lancer is the only one out there now, right? I kind of doubt he would attack me at a hospital.”

Rin kept tapping her fingers against her elbow.

Shirou looked to Saber, found her also giving him a stern expression.

“Just thought I’d put it out there. I didn’t get a choice last time.”

Shirou groaned as he lifted his hands over his head to pull his shirt off and toss it into the garbage. Rin had already repaired that shirt before, so feeding magic into it again was not likely to mend it.

“At least I stayed conscious this time,” he said aloud.

“Yes, indeed, that is a fortunate change of pace,” Saber said.

Shirou startled and glanced over his shoulder, quickly forgetting about his injury; he winced as his neck muscles pulled at the wound and he felt the cut reopen. “Saber, what ar—”

“Be still and sit down.” The order had a tone that suggested defiance would earn swift and painful retribution. “We need to treat that wound.”

“It really isn’t that bad,” Shirou said, though he sat as ordered. The moment he felt the futon beneath his fingers, though, he realized how tired and generally sore he was. “I was just trying to make a joke earlier.”

He felt Saber’s hands carefully brush a wet cloth along the edges of the cut, cleaning the dried dirt and blood there away. Shirou wavered slightly in place, the touch soothing despite the faint stinging from the wound. Briefly, he wondered if even as King, she would have had to give medical attention to allies, or if she was merely defaulting upon personal experience with injury to handle this.

Still unable to really turn his neck, he could not do anything when she reached up to hand him the bandage she would wrap around his body to cover the cut. He held it in place at his collarbone and waited for her to spin it around his body a couple of times before releasing—

The ribbon of cloth slipped out and completely unraveled about his shoulders.

“Uh, Saber, do you actually know how to dress the wound?”

Her hands stopped at his shoulders and she sighed. “Not with how your injuries keep happening, Shirou.”

“Well, sure—” He shut his mouth with a click of teeth as he felt Saber’s breath against his skin and her lips tentatively touch the very edges of the cut. “Saber?”

“I do not know how to heal your wounds, Shirou. Not with how fast they disappear within you.” He felt her breathe out a huff, felt the warmth of air that reminded him of how alive this other person was, how more than some spiritual entity she was. “Even now, this one is already fading into the others.”

Shirou was positive this was no longer about the actual cut, but could not think of anything to say. When she pressed her lips to his back again, he shivered, but was able to note that the touch was no longer anywhere near the wound.

Her fingers brushed along his neck, and he tried to turn to face her, but her other hand kept a firm hold of his shoulders. “Stay still, Shirou.” Her voice was lacking the pressure of a command, though, and came out almost breathless.

“Well…” he could not help but flush at the thoughts jumping to mind. “If it’s healing, I sort of want to look you in the face when we’re talking…” he realized though that talking was not really on his mind, and he felt the embarrassing feeling stretch from his face down his neck.

Her arms came around his collar and Saber pressed herself up against his back and her face came into his peripheral vision. She was blushing as well, her hair down and curtaining her expression, though a faint look of amusement fought for dominance on her lips.

Shirou thought it might be amusement at their embarrassment itself, because he felt similarly. “Okay, that works I guess,” he said, not really sure what he was saying. The feeling of how she embraced him was causing his brain a malfunction. “Saber…um.”

The way Saber’s eyebrows tilted upward but the smile stayed, embarrassed as it was, he realized she was probably thinking the same thing. “Hm?”

He tried to think beyond the single layer of fabric separating their bodies. “Er…” Really, though, that was all that he could concentrate on.

“You look troubled, Shirou,” she said. “Perhaps the wound was worse than I thought?” Her hand came up and traced just below where his neck had been cut. “I cannot see it from here…”

She rounded on him before he could react. With a deft sort of move that almost looked like she were dodging the swing of an enemy sword, the young woman was on his lap and curling her body to look at his neck up close. Shirou realized her hair was down then, and he felt the inexplicable urge to tug at it just to see what she would do.

“No,” she said, her voice even quieter than before, “I do not see a problem.” And then her lips descended on his skin again, touching where her fingers had been just before.

His hands moved on their own, wrapping around her body to bring her closer. “J-just hold on…a second…Saber…” he ground out.

For a fleeting moment, he caught a look of panic in her eyes, though she quickly covered that up with the embarrassed look from before.

“I mean…” he tried to overcome his own embarrassment to make her understand. “No, don’t stop, just…” he bit his tongue. “Oh, just, dammit, this.” He impatiently reached up and started unbuttoning Saber’s shirt.

“Oh. Oh.” And this time, she went as red as he was.

Shirou flicked the last button open, flipped her shirt open, then pulled her so her body was flush with his. Saber’s blush intensified and he was sure his own did as well. “Fair is fair,” he managed.

“So, this is about fairness?” There was a faint look of challenge to her eyes now. “Did I not instruct you that you should recognize a weakness and strike if you have t—ahhh.” She let out a breathy gasp as he moved his hips up against hers and she responded by rocking against him, desperate for the same touch of friction between their bodies.

“Saber…can we…?” he hated how it sounded like he was begging, but…

“Is that an order from my Master?” she whispered into his ear. Regardless, it must have been rhetorical, because she stood, and as he went for the clasp of his pants, she reached to the zipper at her skirt.

Completely forgetting about the injury, Shirou nodded. Furiously. “Oh please yes, if that’s what it will take.” He shoved his pants and underwear right off, and before Saber could even fully step out of her leggings, he was reaching up and grabbing her, hands clutching at her rear, his lips diving in between her thighs.

“S-Shirou, let me sit—”

He made her giggle first, the way his breath tickled her skin, and when he nipped at her leg with his teeth, she outright laughed. But then his tongue found the space where her legs met her hips, and she hissed in arousal.

“N, now,” she said, pushing him back and kneeling over him. “My attack,” she said, reaching down to find him.

He tried to say “fair is fair” again, but when she thrust down atop him, he completely forgot his train of thought.

Saber impatiently lifted herself up and plunged down onto his body, gripping his shoulders such that her knuckles turned whiter than the rest of her skin. She gasped with each motion, sweat beading about her body in ways not even battle could bring her to. When one of Shirou’s hands went down her back along her spine, she shuddered.

“Saber,” Shirou moaned into her shoulder. His other hand went up to where her breasts bounced up against his chest—

Her hand darted to catch his, and with the strength that belied her tiny frame, pushed him onto his back and loomed over him. “No,” she said, “now I have you right—” she gave a tiny moan, “—where I want you.”

Shirou tried to retort, though again his mind blanked as he felt her tongue dart out against his neck, and the strength of his upper body was completely converted to goose flesh.

Saber swayed over him, leaning back, and the sight of her bare skin beneath her open shirt caused him to groan, his hands going to her hips to push into her further, squeezing the flesh there as hard as she had held onto him. “S-Surrender?” she said, trying to keep her voice even and failing.

“No,” he said from behind clenched teeth.

She shook violently and he thought she might have come, something between a whimper and gasp seeming to involuntarily escape her lips. She continued to move, though, grinding even tighter against him. “Now,” she moaned. “Now, Shirou.”

Shuddering himself, Shirou felt his toes curl, his heels digging into the floor as he moved himself up as much as possible to meet her, frantically, until he felt the tight warmth around him become too much, and spilled into her with a gasp.

Distantly, he remembered hearing the sound of something tearing, and when he felt his senses returning, realized Saber was pulling at something that was lodged beneath one of his legs.

He lazily glanced down past Saber’s pearly skin and the curve of her rear, and realized one of her legs was still caught in her tights, the other end pulled taut and beneath his leg.

“Um,” Saber said, completely unlike any voice she had uttered to him before.

They stood before Rin the next morning, Shirou giving his best I’m sorry Tohsaka but please help smile, Saber with her hands clasped before her and her eyes turned downward in embarrassment.

The pigtailed magus looked at the ruined tights she had been given, then crossed her arms. “And just how, exactly, did this happen?”

Shirou did not know why he suddenly felt the need to say, “We were training last night, over attack strategies.”

Saber did know why she suddenly felt like a very bad influence.
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Didn't Even Make It