Unnamed 2
He is in the middle of pulling up his pants when Rider calls his name. His hands freeze in the process of zipping his fly. Oh God, he used that tone of voice. Archer’s shoulders tense just a little bit, knowing a scolding is about to befall him. His brain tries to find something to delay the inevitable, but he knows it’s useless. Whenever Rider gets something on his mind, he won’t let it go that easily. So, Archer looks up, his red eyes glaring daggers at the broad back of his friend.
Rider feels the murderous look as if real knives had backstabbed him. He doesn’t look away from the telly in front of him though. His hands are occupied with the game controller but his mid is fully on the conversation.
Tension hangs in the air, almost thick enough to see.
‘’Archer, it’s been three weeks since you’ve left your Master’s house. The man must be worried about you. Don’t you think it’d be a courtesy to at least tell him you’re alright?’’
Archer bristles at that. ‘’What the fuck! I don’t want him to know that I’m alright! I don’t give a shit if he’s worried!’’
Rider sighs deeply. He pauses his game then finally turns around to face his friend. Archer’s glare could have sent him running for his mother had he not known better.
‘’What happened to make you run away like that?’’ the red-haired Servant asks, and his voice holds a soft note of concern.
This time, the blonde looks slightly away, his face reddening. Rider sighs deeply.
‘’Don’t tell me it has something to do with that bloody priest you’re in love with, again?’’
Archer’s jaw works as if he is trying to find something to say. He grunts and crosses his arms, still looking sideways.
‘’…no. At least not entirely.’’
Rider sighs then rubs his face tiredly. He has yet to meet the man his friend has fallen for, but he knows that whenever it happens, the bastard will take a good punch in the face. He doesn’t understand why Archer fell for someone who doesn’t give a damn about him. With his good-looks and natural charm, he had half the male population of this city at his feet; yet, his feelings had to be for the only man who doesn’t care about him.
He wants to probe for more details, but he fears that Archer might clamp up tighter if he does. The blonde is just standing there, arms crossed as if hugging himself and a hunted look in his red eyes. Rider feels pity wash over him. There are times when he feels like punching Archer for being so blindly in hopeless love. He feels like Archer is too old, too wise, for such childish things. Then he remembers how it felt to be in love and how the thought of not being loved back hurts. Archer is a passionate man. He doesn’t do things half-heartedly. When he loves, it is with a burning passion hot enough to destroy him, and sometimes Rider fears that this fire might destroy everybody else around him. Yet he doesn’t care. He gets up and hugs the blonde tightly to his chest, feeling the lithe strong body beneath his hands. Let the fire comes, he thinks. It has never scared him.
As always, Archer tenses under the touch. After a few seconds, he relaxes, his shoulders slumping. He rests his forehead against Rider’s shoulder, sighing. No words are exchanged for a long moments. Gently, Rider pets the blond hair, ignoring the overwhelming smell of cigarette smoke, alcohol and sex. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine himself more than two hundred years ago, back in his own time with his own people, hugging another man whose presence stirred deep feelings. He still doesn’t understand how or even why he has grown so attached to Archer. People like him; high and mighty, self-confident, strong-willed, hard-to-deal-with have never been his cup of tea. Furthermore, they are enemies in this war. One day or another, they are going to have to fight against each other. Only one will be allowed to walk away with his life. Rider knows that his feelings for the blonde won’t still his sword; he respects Archer too much for that, yet he fears the emptiness his death might leave. Of course, he doesn’t love Archer the way he loved Hephaistion, but both men stirred passion inside him.
Selfishly, Rider wonders what will become of Archer if he dies first. Even if he never said it out loud, Rider knows that Archer considers him a friend. He has opened up to him quickly, only after a few meetings and he is the one Archer runs to whenever he gets fed up when his own Master. Who will he turn to, then? Who will be there to entertain him, to stand up to up, to try to talk sense to him? Certainly not his Master, who appears to be lacking a backbone when talking back to his Servant is needed.
‘’Rider… you’re strangling me…!’’
Rider is finally snapped out of his reverie. He realises that he has been hugging Archer way too tightly. With a sheepish grin, he lets go of his friend who makes a show of rubbing his ribs as if they had cracked. Archer’s face is a bit red as he looks away, probably embarrassed by this open display of affection. This is something Rider has yet to understand; the blonde can boldly talk about sex without the hint of a blush on his face, but the thought of something a bit more profound makes him redden like some kind of schoolgirl.
‘’Whatever. You have a shower already, then you’ll have to eat something.’’ Rider frowns disapprovingly down at the blonde. ‘’You’re losing weight. You should be careful or you might lose that perfect body of yours.’’
Instead of taking that as an insult, Archer grins seductively. ‘’Wouldn’t it be a shame.’’
He wants to add something more daring, but Rider pushes him out of the room, his face suspiciously red.
***
Rider is many things, but a good cook is not among them. He looks down at the… thing cooking on the stove with disgust lining his face. It doesn’t smell that bad, but the texture is far from being appetizing. He never had to make food before. Servants always had been around to make him something to eat whenever he wanted. They had made it look so easy that he had expected to be able to replicate what they had given him. However, he doesn’t know if he lacks any culinary skills, or if he can blame his disastrous food on the cooking appliances of this new era. At first, the cooker with its hob and its oven had looked like some kind of invention of the Gods. It has fascinated him how easily it cooked, boiled, grilled, and broiled any kind of food without need of a fire. Of course, he knew of these new gadgets. Everything about this modern era has been engraved in his brain as he was summoned. Yet, knowing and seeing were two very different things; so were looking at someone cooking and doing the actual work.
Whatever. Rider grunts in annoyance as he stirs the odd mixture in the frying-pan. He himself isn’t very picky. He has eaten weird food from Asian and India that looked and tasted far worse than what he cooks himself. However, he knows that Archer is very picky that he is going to turn his nose up at that food. The blonde loves to be difficult. Rider can’t actually blame him when he thinks about it logically. Archer used to be a king, so he must have had tons of cooks concoct all his favourite meals whenever he wanted to have them. And, from what he said, his Master was quite the chef, so Archer always ate only the finest of food. There was nothing surprising that he should have turned to be quite picky.
The red-haired Servant rolls his eyes, knowing it was only half true. When they had met, Archer hadn’t known what junk food was. Rider had him eat chips, pop-corn and chocolate for the first time when they played video games. It had appeared like some kind of revelation to Archer, who now seemed to favour those snacks over real meals. Thinking about it, the blonde should have been gaining pounds instead of losing them…
‘’The fuck smells this bad?’’
Archer now stands beside Rider, frowning down at the frying-pan on the hob. He smells of soap and cleanliness, clearly an improvement from an hour before. His hair, now looking dark blond, is wet and dripping water on his shoulders. Rider realises with some kind of alarm that he is wearing the white bathrobe that had been lent to him the first day they meet; that damned piece of clothing that had sent Rider’s lust into overdrive. The red-haired Servant can’t stop himself from staring at his friend until a boiling drop of oil escapes from the frying-pan and lands on his hand. The pain startles him out of his lustful reverie. Oblivious (or faking to be) of what had just transpired, Archer looks up when Rider jerks away from the cooker, an eyebrow raised.
‘’What?’’
‘’Just burned my bloody hand…’’ Rider mutters, looking at the small patch of blistering skin on the thumb of his right hand. It is a tiny wound, and yet it throbs in pain.
‘’Who would have known that Alexander the Great was such a clumsy man!’’ Archer sing-songs mockingly before sitting at the table, gracefully crossing his long legs.
Rider looks just a tiny bit insulted at that. He wants to retort that his inattention has been caused by Archer’s arousing body, but he prefers to stay silent. He knows he would never hear the end of it and that it might boost Archer’s ego just a step too high.
Whatever it is that is cooking seems ready. After turning off the hob, he divides the content of the frying-pan into two plates. He hands the half-full plate to Archer who makes a face at its content. Rider glares at him before sitting down to eat. The odd mixture doesn’t taste as bad as it looks after all. Seeing that the other man doesn’t instantly die at the first mouthful, Archer deigns to take a bite. The taste is surprisingly good. He can’t actually say what it tastes, but the mixture is oddly pleasing.
‘’You’re a man of many talents, Rider,’’ Archer says, smiling crookedly.
‘’Cooking isn’t one of my talent,’’ Rider answers back with a roll of his eyes. ‘’I have no idea how I managed to make that taste good. It was luck I guess.’’
‘’Aww, don’t be so humble! You wanted to cook something good for me because you know I only deserve the best.’’
The red-haired Servant nearly chokes on his food at that. He looks up from his plate at Archer who is grinning wickedly at him. Oh, look at how self-satisfied he appears to be! Rider most certainly won’t go down without a fight. He eats another mouthful, racking his brain for a good come back.
‘’Do you know why I added sugar to the mix?’’ he asks in an off-handed manner.
The question seems to take Archer off guard. He raises his eyebrows, looking slightly confused. ‘’Why would I know that? I’m a king, not a cook! I know nothing of how food is made!’’
There, I have you. ‘’Because sugar is sweet, and so are you.’’
The reaction is immediate; Archer’s face turns bright red. He sputters something, looking half embarrassed and half insulted. Rider starts laughing.
‘’W-what the fuck!’’ the blonde exclaims. ‘’I-I fucking hate you, mongrel!’’
‘’Hah! You always react as if nobody ever complimented you!’’
‘’You know that’s not true,’’ Archer says, almost pouting. ‘’People just don’t compliment me… like that.’’
‘’Nah, they prefer to compliment you on your ass and your prowess in bed. ‘’ Rider trails off. ’’… not that they are not deserving of praise…’’