Author's note: I wrote this story while waiting for Fate/Hollow Ataraxia's translation to reach that slow, slow 100%. I never thought I'd see that dream come true!

Living Fairytale

Bazett had been sensitive today, practically punting Lancer out the door of her home and telling him to leave her alone for the evening. Essentially ordered him to have a beer to entertain himself while she did... whatever it was she planned to do.

She didn't literally shove him outside, of course. Bazett requested in a pacifying, polite manner befitting a magus hunter.

Lancer didn't understand what bugged her enough to chase him away for hours after sunset, but if beer and a round of darts were involved, he wasn't about to deny those.

Being a faithful Servant, Lancer did as ordered and went out for a drink.

A hearty number of frothy mugs of beer later, Lancer came back to the McRemitz residence. Phasing through the front door -being a spiritual being had its advantages- Lancer found the house oddly quiet. The lights were off as he strolled into the living room, save for the fireplace where a pleasantly crackling fire burned. Bazett's airy home tended to get chilly in the evenings and this day was no exception.

"Bazett?" Lancer drummed up places where she could've hidden away. Basement? Kitchen?

No reply. Lancer peeked into various rooms and called out a little louder, "Bazzy," hoping to irritate her enough with her nickname to answer.

He hadn't felt any mana cut from her, so where in Dublin's Irish cream was she?

Bedroom? The bath? Lancer playfully wiggled his eyebrows with a canine grin. Life couldn't be that good.

Oh, but it was. Lancer, entering the bathroom hallway, saw the sliver of hazy light from the crack beneath the closed bathroom door.

"Bazzy..." he sang in front of the door, sure she would scream at him or throw something even if he couldn't see her. She was such a cutie when he riled her up.

Still nothing. Growing concerned as the seconds ticked by, Lancer's hand inadvertently gripped the doorknob. He twisted, willing to accept head trauma to find out Bazett's condition.

Lancer pushed open the door with more force than necessary, an uneasy heat flashing across his chest that maybe his assumption was totally wrong and Bazett really was in peril. Magic did have its tricks.

The main lights were off in here, too. Dim, golden light filled the humid bathroom, thanks to the multitude of lit candles lining the tub edges. Lying in soapy water, Bazett dozed. She must have been here a while; the mirror was completely fogged over.

Romantic, Lancer idly mused as he stepped into his Master's holy sanctuary: a hot, flowery-scented oasis. A weathered book perched on the rim of the tub, along with an almost empty goblet of red wine. Apparently things to keep her company as she soaked in here.

"And not choose me?" Lancer murmured lightly. But he got that Bazett needed her privacy. He appreciated his lucky view for a long moment. Bazett, her short magenta hair damp and skin shining from the reflecting candle flame. Her chest slowly rising and falling, the creamy flesh of those lovely breasts concealed under the milky water's surface.

It would be so very easy to sink his vision further below to the most tantalizing parts of woman. Lancer caught himself halfway into the naughty act when he deemed it unfair. If he couldn't witness her flustered blush when her clothes were off, what fun would an unsolicited peek be? Lancer liked his rewarded challenges.

"Oi." He hated to break the silence, but knowing human bodies caught colds rather quickly, Lancer felt obliged to prevent sickness of his Master.

Lancer knelt at her side and dared reach out to shake her arm. His rough fingers touched Bazett's silky flesh and a surge of longing raced up his arm to his heart. He secretly dreamed of doing this, touching Bazett without her recoiling in fear or embarrassment or whatever negative emotion prevented humans from accepting a simple gesture.

He suddenly wanted to glide his fingertips into the water, down the supple skin of her back and trail to the side of her thigh. Push deep in tangled curls and she would cry out his name because she yearned for him-

Lancer shook her before he let that wandering fantasy take a hold of his common sense. Someday, he wistfully wished.

Even with his movement, Bazett didn't rouse.

Really liking not getting a bumpy head from flying hard objects, Lancer let her sleep longer.

Outside the lukewarm water, that is. Swiping a towel off the side rack, Lancer flipped the fuzzy material open. He leaned over to blow out the candles -more to keep his honor in check and not reverse his no-peeking decision- and the title of her literary pleasure caught his eye. He grinned and set that and her drink aside on the counter before he blew out the candles.

Darkness enveloped the room. Only the small frosted window provided a semblance of luminance. The moon had been out, Lancer recalled. It wasn't on this side of the house so the bathroom was nearly pitch-dark. Lancer just interpreted Bazett's outline the best he could.

Carefully, he lifted her. Water sluiced off Bazett's skin as Lancer tried to balance her in his arms without jostling her awake. His shirtfront dabbed with wetness, but Lancer ignored it. He drew the towel around Bazett, aware of the soft feel of her body and her puffs of warm breath on his cheek.

As hard as he was getting at the beautiful opportunity to regale in Bazett's naked glory, Lancer again reminded himself that he would be a gentleman tonight. Besides, when -and Lancer convinced himself there would be a when- the real reveal happened, Bazett's consenting self, it would be infinitely better.

He cradled Bazett against his chest with one arm as he clumsily adjusted the towel around her torso with the other. Acute as his sight was, dark was dark and his eyes strained.

Bazett's head lolled gently onto his arm and her bosom pressed against him. Lancer's resolve weakened. With the towel loosely around her, Lancer saw just how full her breasts were. He gulped.

The towel finished its gift wrapping with hasty expediency. For Lancer's sanity.

Keeping Bazett's firelight mood in mind, Lancer thought the fireplace was a quick way to dry her off. He made his way to it. The hearth burned as strongly now as it did when he passed it earlier.

Lancer's godlike visual acuity let him smoothly slip around the scattered furniture placed around the living room, now that he had illumination. The distraction of such a calm Bazett made Lancer stare at her sleeping face, at the peace instilled in the curve of her lashes and the almost pouty lips.

This fine lass was doing a number on him and she wasn't even awake.

Almost at the fireplace, Lancer rounded the last corner around an armchair. His lousy innate luck came into action; his foot caught the damn edge of the throw rug.

The world tilted. So did Lancer. He did the only possible heroic thing and twisted himself to cushion Bazett's fall. He groaned loudly when the back of his head whacked the floor.

Bazett jolted out of her serene nap, gasping at the startle. She sprawled out across Lancer, her arms and legs in a tangle, yet her head was delicately cradled in his protective arms.

Lifting her head from his chest, disorientation still lingered in her eyes. "Lancer?"

She sounded muzzy. Lancer took that as a positive sign. Maybe he would get lucky and she would keep thinking she was dreaming. Through his pounding heart, he chirped, "You're such a darling."

Bazett merely stared at him. Blinked in confusion. Her towel, formerly tightly wrapped around her, had slipped haphazardly down her shoulders and Lancer's large hands rested on her bare upper back.

Lancer felt sweat misting across his forehead at what was forthcoming when he saw the beauty mark beneath Bazett's left eye twitch. Her pink irises widened in horror and her face burned red in dawning comprehension.

"Lancer! What's going on?!" Her normally cool exterior was lost in an embarrassed frenzy.

Lancer winced. Here cometh the raging storm.

Bazett's glare could've burned holes in him. "You- you took advantage of me!"

"It wasn't like that!"

"How do you explain how I'm out here in a towel?"

"Aye, a towel, but-"

"Was this your plan all along? Sneak in on me?"

"No! If you lemmee explain-"

"What's to explain? Lousy Servant!"

"I'm tellin' ya, I wasn't gonna-"

"Pathetic! That's what you are, you dog-"

He wasn't standing for slings at his dignity. Lancer pressed a hand on the back of her neck and tugged her forward. His mouth sealed hers. It was the only way to placate the lass to let him properly finish a sentence. He felt her temperature spike. Bazett struggled, but when Lancer refused to let go, she grudgingly slumped in surrender.

Heat and wetness was the moment and then her luscious lips left his much too soon. She wasn't yelling at Lancer anymore. Her cheeks blazed a pretty rose, a glassy expression lowering her eyelids as her quickened breath filled the air.

One minute Bazett flared fire and the next instant she cooled to ice.

This thrilled Lancer to the deepest fibers of his magically-infused veins. He suppressed a shudder his damnedest, getting away with a hard swallow.

"Bazett." Her name rasped from Lancer's throat, though he meant to sound firm.

Bazett's eyes shimmered as her gaze darted around his face, as if memorizing it, and Lancer thought maybe she felt the same.

"F-Fine, I'll listen to you." Bazett's anxious hands pressed the cotton of her towel higher on her chest and Lancer resisted the urge to take those hands and kiss them to tranquility, kiss the spot they held, then the rest of her to explore the other sources of ardor he could excite from her.

For god's sake, she had just shot an arrow to his pride, so why was his mind filling with such irrational thoughts?

Lancer composed himself as best he could, considering someone he wanted in more ways than one straddled her weight on him. "You fell asleep. You were gonna catch a cold."

The intoxicating lull of Bazett's heated expression chilled. "So you got a nice look since you could. Maybe played around, too?"

"Hey, I did you a favor by bringin' you here. No, I didn't do anything. I don't care if you believe me." He turned his chin away defensively to the firelight.

But he did care. His words of truth were a part of him. If Bazett wasn't going to accept what he told her, there wasn't anything he could do to change her mind.

"Really?"

He didn't answer. Frowned at the bristling flames.

"Then I will take your word."

Her admission caused Lancer to glance at her. Bazett shyly smiled.

Lancer, still holding onto her, returned her smile, absently rubbing his thumbs along her warm skin.

A little squeak escaped her. As if remembering she was on top of him, Bazett hastily moved to scoot off. She sat near his hip and faced the fireplace.

Lancer reached for her waist, sitting up as he did. He curled up behind her. Bazett's face flushed when Lancer looked at her.

Bazett cleared her throat. "T-Thank you for... Y'know."

"No. No, I believe I don't." A teasing melody enchanted Lancer's unconcealed lie.

And Bazett knew he wanted to hear her say it. "You do. You do!" She fumbled with tracing the lines on the rug they sat on, not meeting his eyes.

"Tell me just to make sure, hmm?" Lancer tilted his head, his ponytail drifting to his shoulder. Confusing her Servant was indeed unwise.

Bazett turned to him and Lancer saw gratefulness in her eyes. "Thank you for not letting me freeze."

"No problem, missie," Lancer drawled. "Now I'll understand what 'private time' means when you ask for it."

Bazett's mouth opened and closed in some retort, then she focused on the hearth and its drying properties without adding anything. Her cheeks burned, though.

Lancer's lips brushed the crook of her shoulder and neck. A sensuous shiver rippled through her before she could stop herself.

Lancer liked his charming effect on Bazett. He smirked into her scented skin. "I like the book you were readin'."

"Cu Chulainn's history. I, uh, sometimes catch up on it." Bazett sounded caught.

"You could just ask me about me." Lancer stated this matter-of-factly.

"The book will tell me a lot you don't." Bazett tried to hide a smirk.

"Hey, I can talk endlessly about myself." Give him some extra pints and Lancer really could go on hours about his history.

"I'll bet." Leaning into him, Bazett sighed in content.

"So, is the real Cu Chulainn better?" He playfully squeezed her.

Bazett checked over her shoulder at Lancer, eyebrow arched teasingly. "Nope."

-THE END -