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"No. Absolutely not." Like a petulant child a quarter his age, Shiro of Emiya crossed his arms and stalked away from the room. His mother stared after his retreating back, then shrugged at Rin Tosaka, before taking leave of her and the Servant Saber with a bow.

When she came to the living room, Taiga Fujimura came out and said, "Shiro just passed by with a face looking like a tomato. Did something embarrassing happen?"

"A small disagreement," his mother replied in fluent Japanese.

"Teenager passions, I tell ya," said the not-so-secret yakuza daughter, shaking her head. "C'mon Sakura, let's go raid the larder."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, teacher," said the other girl, voice sounding like a robotic terminator.

"Aw, don't be like that~" Shiro's mother left the moaning Taiga behind and went for the door, then to the paved pathway outside the front door. She looked left, then right, then somersaulted backward up the air, landing a tad ungraciously on the rooftop. Her son was there, his feet hanging over the edge. Blue eyes glittered her way, then were quickly averted.

"How did you find me that fast?" asked the boy.

"You're going to need a lot more than supernatural abilities to evade your own mother," she said, settling down next to her boy. "Besides, we can smell each other, remember? It's sort of a thing among us-and you, though you're just half of it."

Shiro grunted. "I won't do it. It's too much, mother."

"It might be important for your continued survival," she said. "You got yourself into this mess, the least you could do is make sure you survive to the end of it." She ruffled his silvery-blonde hair, which made him wince. "No one wants you to die, kiddo."

"Then why don't they come in, and sort this whole thing out?"

"Rules of the land," she said, shrugging. She frowned. "Not that I like it one bit, myself. I'm just lucky I got inside before things got worse. Why, if I still had that sword..." She clenched her fist at the horizon, making Shiro smile. "And so, to not belabor the point, you gotta man up now, Shiro." His smile faded. "Do that tantric whatchamacallit with your Servant, so you can get better at this Master thing."

"I seriously won't do that!" he yelped, blushing.

"Why not? It's just sex. You don't have to make a big deal about it. It's not like you're marrying the poor girl."

"She's exactly the reason, and you know it!"

"Why? Because she's me?"

"That's exactly why!" Shiro roared, staring at his mother, the lingering, immortal legend of King Arthur, looking exactly like the Servant down there in the house-save for the fact she wore an entirely different dress more suited to this era. Well, an era where an American West Coast beach honey would belong, anyway.

The circumstances of his birth were complicated, and suffice to say something like him was an existence said to be an impossibility. Arturia Pendragon, or Penny Y. Drake, as her passport proclaimed, was the enduring shade left behind when she was forever immortalized a long time ago by the World. Immortal and ageless, they had a physical body, and could do everything a mortal could-except procreate. Their "kind" had certainly tried, for as long as humanity had existed. And only a brief fling between Penny and a mortal Japanese salaryman had somehow broken that rule, producing Shiro.

Shiro's feelings for his biological father were hazy, as he'd died in that dreadful fire years ago, in which Shiro had been the only survivor. Mother had frantically searched for him for months until she found him, an amnesiac, under the care of Kiritsugu Emiya. Bits and pieces of his old life returned to him slowly, and Penny certainly never insisted on taking him from the Emiya house. "You're fine just where you are," she'd said. "You'll get a good life, more than I can give." Though he knew she loved him dearly, she also held quite different values from humans, or it could just be that she didn't quite know how to handle motherhood. She was a flighty creature, only appearing for a night every week or month, though she did send him postcards of the places she'd been. When his foster father died, she became a more frequent visitor, joining hands with Taiga Fujimura in raising him through adolescence.

It had been quite the surprise to see the face of his own mother staring at him on that fateful night on the tool-house. Only then did he believe what his mother claimed about herself. His wonder at summoning his own mother, even if it was an entirely different "copy' of her past, was explained away as his possessing a relic of hers, given him by Kiritsugu. Said artifact incidentally was one of the main pillars fueling her own existence on Earth.

So with all that said, naturally he should be excused from even contemplating the notion of having sex with Saber, as Tosaka had suggested to "open his circuits". For one, cut off mother's long, messy hair, tie it in a bun and add makeup to her face and the two were practically twins.

Second, he was already wrestling with very strange, and naughty, urges of his own regarding his own mother. The feeling was very near to incest, by his reckoning, and he was appropriately horrified when he realized it. Mother was a beautiful woman, a gaijin most boys in his school lusted over; particularly after that memorable Parents' Day awhile back, when the "immodest Yank" had sauntered into school wearing only a sports bra and exercise shorts, revealing pale, toned limbs that fired up their imaginations.

"Don't think of it as having sex with me." Shiro blanched, already not liking the way the conversation was going. "Think of it as a living blow-up doll looking like me."

"That's not making it sound better." He sighed. "It's alright mom, I'm mother we can figure out something." Something other than sex with a lookalike of his mother, obviously.

"Auntie Morgana did say Tosaka-san's theory is sound, even if the method's lacking."

"Can't Auntie send me a magic potion to make me like Superman or something?"

"No, but she might turn you into a frog for weeks if she finds out you've been as stubborn as a mule. And everyone in the crowd's laughing at you now, you know. It's just sex. It's not even incest, technically, because that woman down there didn't bring you into this world. Mind you, there's a whole bunch of the crowd who think that sort of thing's okay."

"Yeesh." Shiro shuddered. He did not want to think on the legends who still carried the notions of their time. Especially those damned Emperors and Pharaohs who believed siblings and uncles and aunts were fair game. And freaking Oedipus, too, who'd practically wrote a long email message to him! He could almost throttle the lech, for putting ideas in his head!

"Huh. Well, okay then. If that's the way you want it..." Penny hopped down from the rooftop. She went inside, leaving Shiro to brood alone. He was halfway through thinking up a suicidal plan to raid Illyasviel von Einzbern's base of operations when the front door again opened below.

"We're heading out," Penny said with a wave, taking Saber with her. The latter was trying hard to wrench her hand from the other woman's grasp. When they went past the gate, Tosaka craned her neck to look up at him.

"Where are they going, Emiya-kun?"

"They didn't say. They didn't tell you?"

"Your mother seemed very insistent on taking your Servant along for some reason."

About an hour later, he found the reason why. Two virtually identical people stood before them, each hair short and groomed, each wearing the exact same thing, a french maid ensemble undoubtedly bought at a cosplay shop. Even Shiro was taken aback, and felt panicked at seeing this double vision, since he was unable to distinguish his mother from his Servant.

They turned their backs to them. "Just like we planned," said one of them. "Very well," said another. They whirled around, their expressions identically cheerful, and did a thumbs-up pose, then said together, "We've come back, Master!"

"Oooh!" Taiga and Sakura were clapping enthusiastically at the novel display.

"How is it, Shiro?" said one, face brimming with mischief.

"Ain't it good?" said the other.

"You're Mom, aren't you," he said desperately to the latter.

"Nawp, that's me," said the first one cheerfully.

"Hah, this was a good plan," said the second one. "Iz gonna be gooood." They both winked at him. Shiro's eyes widened. No way! They were sounding exactly alike! Not a single thing distinguished one from the other. His Servant was cold and stoic, keen on precise words. Now both of them, mother and Servant, spoke just like the former, and he could not mark one from the other!

"Awww, he sure likes it," said one of them, hooking an arm around his and pressing her boobs to it.

"Stop it," he whispered, trying not to relish the feeling of small, warm pillows.

The other took position on the other side. "You're blushing, sweet thing!" How was this possible? Mom could not have coached his Servant to act like her in so short a time.

"Oh my, you certainly look pleased, Emiya-kun," Tosaka said drily, tossing her hair behind her.

Sakura smiled crookedly. "This was a good surprise, wasn't it, senpai?"

Help me, he wanted to say, trying not to imagine his mother in that way. Oh, that's right! Taiga knew his mother as much as him, maybe she could-

"I kinda like that look," said Taiga, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe I should have Shiro wear one sometime."

"Oh no, my Shiro's far too manly for that sort of thing," said the blonde on his right, who then squeezed his arm.

"Maybe a butler's outfit would be nice-I know lots of people," said the other, brushing his head with a brazen familiarity. Damnit, now he could smell them-they both smelled really good!

Shiro mentally swore a litany of profanity, as the two led him over to the living room, neither refusing to relinquish their place at his side. He closed his eyes. Trace, on, he muttered to himself, wanting to find serenity in his magecraft. Then both heads leaned against his shoulder, simultaneously.

Shiro's silent scream echoed in the afternoon light.

(()()()()()(()()(

When supper was over and he'd seen Sakura and Taiga out, he found that neither doppelganger was willing to drop the charade.

"Saber," he said, not knowing which one to address. "Aren't you going to guard me while I sleep?"

"We will," they said in unison. "Don't you worry, my dear, momma's gonna keep a close eye on you." He almost whimpered.

"I-I'll use the Command Spell," he said desperately. "With this I'll know for sure!"

Abruptly, both maids now looked cold and angry-identical now in acting like his Servant (in a maid dress). "Don't joke about things like that, Master," one of them said seriously.

"A tool like that should be used when it is most needed, Master," the other one lectured. Who was the Servant? This one or that one? They spoke exactly the same! "Do not waste it on frivolous ends." They glanced at each other. "And with that said, good night!" this one said, ruffling his hair.

"Hope you have nice dreams, my son," said the other, with a wink. He jumped up and pointed at her.

"Aha! You're the one. You're mom."

"No way," said the one not chosen. She gave him a nice, tight hug. "That would be me."

"And me," corrected the other, joining them to make a big, three-way hug-a-thon.

Shiro lay in the darkness, restless and unable to sleep. True to her word, Saber wasn't there watching him. He blinked at the sliding doors, wondering if they were peeking at him through a small crack. He wanted to fling the covers away, slide the doors open with a bang, and thus the truth would come out. He forced his eyes to close. No, he'd just look like a paranoid idiot. He managed to coup a few winks after forcing his mind clear.

He wasn't entirely sure what happened next. It was as if his mind had slipped into a hole, and from inside that hole he watched himself at a distance.

Certainly he detected a hint of incense, so thick and heady it overpowered his scent, and all his other senses. He cast his gaze around, seeing shapes in the dark. Then he felt a warm sort of wetness bloom on his pants under the cover of the futon. A moment later he realized there was no cover.

And he had no pants.

He glimpsed a flash of blonde hair between his legs and tried to speak, though the heavy incense made it come out as a moan. Under the stray shaft of moonlight he was able to see his mother, or so it appeared, servicing him ardently.

"He's awake," someone said, though it sounded like it came from the bottom of a well. He lay back, struggling to move muscles that would not, and when his peak came he felt a sense of self-revulsion upon finishing in his own mother's mouth.

Or was it? The woman could have been his Servant. That didn't make it any less weird-they had the same face. She disappeared from between his legs, and he felt hands on his body pulling him up.

"...Think I should try a geas?"

"...barbaric-see, he's well-prepared already. We just need-"

Shiro, shiro, shiro

A thousand voices repeating his name echoed in his mind. As of a dream, he felt a haze over his eyes, and when they cleared he was looking at his mother's bare back, pale, smooth and supple in the moonlight. He felt like his hands were gripping something pillow-like and soft, like two mounds of plump flesh. He felt white-hot heat around his waist-a pleasure indescribable washing over his body. He thought he was moving, as his vision seemed to shift and rock.

Worst of all, his mother-or was that really her?-was screaming his name through a veil of harsh static, in a tone he'd only heard in Shinji's illicit JAVs. The normal disgust was not present-rather he seemed to like it. Yes. He liked it.

This ain't so bad, Shiro decided, and so pursued that spark of bliss on the horizon, acting harder and moving his body faster and faster and faster...

He closed his eyes, falling down into a bed of clouds and roses that smothered him forever and ever.

"Gaaaah!"

He was breathing heavily. He patted his body. One, two, three. All his clothes were still on. Check.

He looked around. Sunlight. He was in bed. The room didn't appear strange. No strange shapes. No mother.

But the images were still so vivid. He could close his eyes and see them again, which made him quite queasy-halfway between disgusted and aroused. Speaking of aroused, his morningwood was there, though he'd just dreamed of it being inside somewhere both horrifying and wonderful.

He dashed out. Whatever had happened last night-he had to have answers! No one was in the living room, the bedrooms, the bathroom, the kitchen-

Shiro heard sounds from their dojo, and practically ran there.

"Mom!" The two of them were there, although he could now clearly see who was whom. His mother, in her loose clothes, lay on the floor, panting, her practice sword beside her. His Servant, wearing the simple, functional dress, stood in front of her, wooden blade planted on the ground. Her face shone, like she'd been working hard.

"Whoa, good morning, Shiro," said Penny.

"Good morning, Master. Is breakfast ready?" Saber asked.

"Wait, wait, wait," he shouted, waving his hands. He took a moment to breathe in long gulps, then pointed to one, then the other. "Did you... Did something... Were you doing something... last-" he gulped. "Last night?"

The two looked at each other, brows raising. "Nope," said his mother. "After that maid thing, we were kinda tired. I don't know where Saber slept, but I went to my own room after supper."

"I was watching you, Master," said Saber.

"Y-you were?"

"As I vowed," she said seriously, in a tone that did not want arguments.

"Huh..." So had that all been a dream? It seemed so real. Too real, even for his usual wet dreams involving his mother.

"Is something wrong, Master?" Saber asked, when the silence continued.

"You look pretty slovenly. Did you run here from bed?" asked his mother.

He sighed. "No. It's just..." He scratched his head. He looked around. "Where's Tosaka?"

"Went home," mother said with a shrug. "She'd gotten fed up with your stubborn ass. She did tell me to have you talk to her at school. For plans, or whatever."

It was good to see that Tosaka had given up on the perverted line of thought. What else was there? "Well, I'm sorry to have intruded," he said slowly, his thoughts still a million miles away. "I'll leave you to it. I'll call you when breakfast's ready."

"Make it a big one," said his mother. "I-er... because Saber's a big eater."

"Oh-um yes! If you please, Master."

Shiro shook his head, and left. Damn that dream. He hoped this War would be over so he could go back to a peaceful life with his mother, and Saber could go where Servants went. That wet dream may well become reality if Saber was here any longer than she needed to be.

()()()()()()()

Both watched him leave. Then one turned to her other.

"So how do you really feel? He was railing you real hard."

The one he'd addressed as mom had a cramped look on her face. "It is but a pain of the mind. My body's already been healed by the renewed connection." She patted her hip. "Though that begs the question of how I'm even injured like this. It, of course, should have been impossible, but..."

The other shrugged, looking comfortable even while acting as a heroic spirit. "Well, he is born from a legend, if that counts. He doesn't have my faded strength or your heroic power, but he still packs a punch."

"And a big fat pecker too," Saber said glumly, her cheeks flushed, as if she were recalling his fierce thrusts.

"Well, anyhow, thanks for herding my son to adulthood."

"Hmph."

"Aw, c'mon, we did good. That was a good plan I cooked up there. And you were a pretty good actor, yourself. So here's to a job well done."

Saber stared at the high-five, blinking, before she sighed and placed her palm on Penny's as a dog might for a trick. "He is a good man, your son. My son, in a way," she said.

"Yep," Penny said, wistful. "He is at that."

"I shall do my best to ensure he survives. Not just for myself or for you, but for everyone."

()()()()()()()

Heroic Spirit EMIYA watched the two, his Master and himself, bicker on the rooftop. Now that he thought about it, his mom's deception had been useful in his lifetime. His arguable success in the War had made him a living legend among the legends, his ego pumping up like a blow-up doll. Even if it did lead to many botched expectations, ending up with his head on the chopping block, and this incarnation emerging from the legend of the half-legend.

He wondered what his shell was doing, in that distant future. Probably trying to get away from Penny, who'd gotten strange ideas since that fateful night-which was just last night in this world.

He sighed. Damn that fucking Greek.

This story commissioned by HMerlin, thank you.

My first non-smut commission-well, technically it's lemon-y but not really full-on smut. Not that I'm complaining, of course. Smut or no, just shoot me a tell and let's get to business.

If you'd like more from this series, or a commission on another kind of work entirely, good news! Just shoot me a message here on fanfiction dot net or over at theruffpusherdottumblrdotcom.