Hey howdy hey. Back again. And it's multi-chaptered! Huzzah. So, warning: this is basically a ridiculous/humorous/not-to-be-taken-entirely-seriously story. I'm setting it amongst the mass of Chapter 8 game-wise, granting me Nowi and Gregor, but also with the fact that Em is taken. So... really, Chrom should not be focused on his tactician's apparent lady-like-ness, and said woman should have more sense than to be swayed with desire. I say should because well, I did try. But funny thing; characters have minds of their own, the pesky blighters.

I get that may be rather disappointing for some expecting a more serious tone, but to all those who have no qualms against a little madness, be welcome! The title is probably clue enough. The M is for as much (light) sauciness later as it for the loose tongue, so take heed!

Fire Emblem: Awakening does not, cannot and shall never belong to me. This is solely for entertainment. Or so is the intention...

..

~ Go get Her, Tiger ~
..

He was going mad. It was a slow progression, idly chipping at his sanity without care, but progressing it was nonetheless.

There were indeed preventative measures to save his mind from degenerative thoughts; rooster formation, weapon inventory and the like, but the prognosis was still not a good one. Even the famous method of distraction was futile, valiant though his efforts would be to occupy both his body and mind. And as for shouting loudly in his head, as he had heard Lissa's strategy to be, that only appeared to exacerbate the symptoms.

His madness always seemed to increase when in the presence of his tactician, and his period of convalescence from madness was quickly diminished if he even so much as thought of her. There was probably some correlation between her and the palpitations, dry mouth and urge to run or stay – he could never quite decide what the latter's outcomes would be – but that was too much effort to even consider, much less go about achieving.

No, the only true cure of – or rather, a successful master of masking - his madness he had found was alcohol. In his hand sat a tankard of something Feroxian, blessedly only a quarter full. The liquid sloshed against the side as he swirled it round, its richness promising to embrace his thoughts and locate them away from consciousness to the drunken haze he could feel descending.

It had already descended – a half-tankard full ago. But Chrom, in that wonderful haze, probably couldn't have distinguished left from right, much less his mental capacity.

He took a hearty gulp, regretting the burn and pleasantly warmed by its heat. How utterly seductive alcohol was; granting the warmth a lover might and luring him with its appeal of lucidity. A master of disguise, it was the sly culprit behind his rapidly decreasing coherency, but granted him no wisdom to detect that fact.

As for the Feroxi drink, oh what a mischievous bugger. For all the bliss the loss of his thoughts granted; that slip of responsibility from his shoulders, the relaxation brought from holding nary a care; it seemed to enjoy coaxing the deepest desires from his mind. Tampering and manipulating the longings, their natures became far more amorous than he would usually dare himself to think.

The key word was usually. He was only a man and he had an imagination. An overactive one.

He'd been doing fine… fine-ish around her as of late. But presented with the options of leaving her startled at his constant absconding or tugging her close and allowing his primal natures to take captive of his actions, he was certainly sure his choice of the former was the better option. Perfectly fine, that was Chrom. Until the mention of drinks had been made.

He could rationalise all he liked that a drink would soften the blow of his sister's capture. But the simple truth was that only played the minority of his reasoning.

Not usually a man to drown his laments in alcohol, he had noted the surprise in his friend's features at his acceptance, but neither had made mention of either's action and had instead poured the drinks. He had sought a distraction away from pale hair, smooth curves and the voice smugly declaring in his head that, oh yes, she was definitely a lady, and that call of alcohol had been welcome.

In hindsight, he should have known that from all the males in his camp, the two beside him were decidedly the worst for objectifying women. A trait that usually set the Prince's teeth on edge. His mother and sister would remain to be included in the influential women in his life, and ones whom he loved dearly. He detested the thoughts of them being reduced to sexualised beings, and dreaded to think other woman were too.

Usually, an intervention would have been made. But again, usually, Chrom wasn't drunk.

Sat with his alcohol laden mind unable to even distinguish up from down, formulating the correct reprimand felt beyond him. As did the desire to clout them both for their degrading conversation. There was decidedly a reason why ceasing their caterwauling would be wise, but to the drunken mind, morals and rationality weren't exactly favoured.

For all his sense, fluctuating though it was known to be, Chrom could not help but listen to the men across from him. The rowdy banter of two highly inebriated, alpha males who discussed female anatomy with no reserve sounded pretty damn good to Chrom's ears. Oh, his brain was protesting vehemently, but it was that second, purely metaphorical, but still influential second brain than had control.

"Ave yer seen 'er mate. Her ass could fill my hands!" Vaike enthused. His hands rose to emphasis the largeness of the woman's in question assets and at the vigour of such a movement, the proclaimed "Teach" fell backwards.

"Perhaps Teach be wishing he fall into bottom of lady rather than ground, yes?" Gregor said, guffawing loudly.

With the peculiar combination of intrigue and detachment, Chrom watched their antiques. Or attempted to; it was nigh on impossible to focus on figures in constant motion when his eyes felt like they were rolling his head. Still, Chrom continued to observe them – or perhaps squinting was more apt a word – and rather belatedly, felt himself blush.

Ah. That was the reason he hated drinking: the absence of his brain. A measure of mental clarity returning, prompted perhaps by the blood returning to his head, Chrom let out a small groan. He knew it, knew it damn fine well, that Robin's own buttocks – one that was delightfully curvaceous and creamy might he add – should not be in his thoughts. And it most definitely should not having been consuming his mind's eye. Oh, he was well aware that should she somehow discover what exactly he was thinking of, she'd have his head. And his manhood: Robin seemed to be quite interested in that part of him if his memory was anything to go by. But that was the wonderful thing about alcohol - he didn't have a care in the world.

"What I wouldn't give to get a feel of Sumia without that armour!"

Sumia? Chrom blinked, images of Robin and bubbles suddenly dissolving. (He regretted having ever told Gaius of his plight. The thief had taken to calling Robin 'bubbles' from thereon much to her confusion and Chrom's great embarrassment.) However, unlike his comrades, it was not Sumia who rose in his mind, but rather her pies. At the presentation of a rhubarb pie, Chrom frowned. Yet just as he was beginning to lament the loss of Robin, the image transformed. In his head was his tactician… slathering the contents of a pie over her chest and licking her fingers clean in a manner that had heat rushing straight to his groin.

"Oh no, Gregor be preferring Cordelia! Is like beautiful rose! With body likely just as beautiful!"

"Not as arousing as my Robin's is," Chrom suddenly stated, tightly as he shifted uncomfortably and firmly nodding his head in a show of confidence. He regretted the action as soon as he did it.

"Ohoho! Your Robin, eh, Chromy? When d'ya decide she belonged to you, huh?" Vaike asked, wriggling his eyebrows as he made to stand and resorted to using Gregor for balance. "Look at me!" he slurred, exaggerated arm movements almost knocking him over again, "I'm thuuur fancy, schmancy prince and ahh think me lady's body is arousing!"

Stabbing a finger in Chrom's direction and actually pointing to the tents behind, Vaike continued, "Purrr-leaase, pretty boy. Just say you wanna shag the girl. We're all brothers here! Am I right? Course I am, cos ahhm the teach!"

"Shud up, Vaike," Chrom said, musing briefly at how drastic his accent changed under drink's influence, or hearing Vaike's own common tongue. He wondered how Robin's tongue would feel like in his mouth.

"Make me!" Teach garbled, almost tripping into the hearth as he strutted over to Chrom.

Chrom pulled a face. "Why'd I do that for? Imma hit no bro o' mine." He'd been hit a lot recently, thank you. His hand tugged at his ear and he winced, recalling the soap… holding container thingy Robin had lobbed at his ear. And she'd walked in on him! The silly, erratic, impulsive, intelligent, gorgeous, sexy…

"I should see Robin!" Chrom proclaimed abruptly, nearly knocking heads with Vaike as he dived up. "Yeah! I will tell her she is beautiful! And wonderful! And…" He rotated his hands as though searching for the next word and nodded enthusiastically with a wide grin as Gregor suggested, "Wonderful," and continued on, "Yes, wonderful and beautiful!"

"Yeah, man!" Vaike agreed, "Show 'er 'ow mightyyyyy Falchy can beeeeeee!"

"More like show her what an utter prat you can be."

All three men turned, complete with fights of balance, as a fourth voice interrupted their cheers and set her steely glare on all of them.

"Sup, Sully? Yer here to drink too?" Teach asked, drink sloshing over his hand as he picked up the glass and thrust it before her.

"No, you moron. It's bed time."

Behind her stood Stahl, Virion and – Chrom lost him momentarily – Kellam, all of whom had varying degrees of amusement and worry playing on their faces. Stahl's face was one of anger as he looked at Vaike. "I expect you to be an airhead, but dragging our highness into this?"

"Hey! Chromy wanted to! S'alright."

"T'was a titbit of fun," Chrom said, trying to hold himself up and finding, rather annoyingly, that his body was quite unable to.

"Yeah, I'll say," Sully snorted and hooking an arm under Chrom's shoulders, let him lean against her. Her amour was hard under his head and he pushed a finger against it the way he would with a lumpy pillow. He huffed: it was still uncomfortable. "You guys take those idiots back and I'll get Captain here back into bed."

The other, sober, males nodded and half-heaving half resorting to simply dragging them, they lugged Gregor and Vaike back to their respective tents. Their efforts were completed in silence, the hour late and the silence likely being a much welcomed respite from the rambunctious behaviour. Sully, on the other hand, enjoyed ribbing her Captain too much for the moment to pass.

There had been speculation recently in camp concerning two particular members of the Shepherds. The first tactic of breaking the tactician had proven futile, as had been expected and had quickly been deserted. The second employment of fishing for gossip was far easier implemented.

Previous celebrations involving copious amounts of alcohol had introduced that the prince, for all his formidability and stalwartness, was a lightweight. Frederick had made it clear than no exploits of this were to be made of this weakness, be it good-natured or not. The knight hadn't said an exception couldn't be made for the greater-good, and knowing what the heck was eating at both Robin and Chrom was too good to pass up on.

"I'd say they're secretly together!"

"Our Captain is not a man of secrets! He would divulge his intention to us all!"

"Yeah right, twenty silver says he's seen her naked. Did you not hear the commotion from the baths?"

"He 'accidently' walked in on her, apparently. As if! Chrom's not that ignorant. Twenty says they've saw each other nude."

"Forty then for more than a Valmese kiss?"

"Hah! They've done more than kiss! Look at the way Captain flushes when she sits beside him. That's the look of a man who's tapped her ass and is recalling the memories."

"Forty says they've went down on each other?"

"How about fifty silver in if they've been to fourth turret and beyond? I'd say bubbles would be up for a bit of fun, not sure about Blue though."

At this point, both Pegasus knights had flushed to the tips of their ears. "The Captain wouldn't, surely…"

"You'll be losing fifty silver, Stumbles…"

With wagers increasing in increments, no-one had been willing to bet with a 100 silver coins.

"How about, my fellow Shepherds, we play the game instead of who is more daring?" Virion had suggested. "We shall place our wagers, but it shall begin from now. Who, from our darling Robin and noble Chrom, made the first move? If any move has indeed already been made?"

"So, we're betting on who has the balls to get the other into bed first?" Sully had clarified, finding herself smirking. "I'm game. Twenty down for Chrom, that sneaky dastard."

"Yeah right, Teach is gonna win this round! Twenty for Robin – the gal's got something up that cloak of hers."

"That'd her breasts, and twenty says Blue can't resist those bad boys."

In the end, with the exception of Frederick, who could not know for as long as they all drew breath and Panne who refused to participate in "the foolishness of humans" every other member of the Shepherds had placed a bet. The collective 140 from the supporters of Chrom had almost been exactly by the supporters of Robin.

Sully grinned; plan one had been expertly executed by Vaike and Gregor – "Piss up the Prince" – and she had the wonderfully naïve and exceptionally drunk Chrom in her arms to prove their success.

"Shaaay Sully, weeze seeing Robin right?"

The cavalier cackled and taking a wild sweep for the unexpected appearance of Frederick, patted Chrom on the shoulder. "You betta believe it. I'd say Robin would be happy to see you," she said with exuberant enthusiasm. Robin would likely kick his ass to the moon and back, but her Lord didn't need to know that. "In fact, I bet she's waiting already in bed for you to join her."

Thank the gods Chrom retained enough sentience to hear her emphasis. "In bed? For me? You mean like…"

Sully snorted, finding it incredible how Chrom could be blushing brighter than even Cordelia could manage, yet still grinning like she'd just handed him that bastard mad king's head on a silver platter.

"Yep. Go get her, Tiger."

"No. Nope. No way." Chrom shook his head fervently with every staccato refusal. "She's sleeping!" He made the point to place his finger to his lips then, loudly whispering, "Shuuuush!"

Gods did she wish she could capture this moment to blackmail him later. Easing Chrom off her side, content he'd be alright on his own, Sully placed her hands on her hips. "Listen here, buster. That girl is probably gagging for it, and is your duty to provide for all members of your realm." She pushed him lightly, glad to see he didn't swagger too much. "I guarantee you Robin is up!" Sully said, hardly caring if Robin was indeed still awake and pushing Chrom in the direction of his gal's tent.

Even if she was asleep, a drunken Chrom would definitely wake her up; that was for sure.

..
..

The faint scratch of a quill against parchment and the soft whisper of flames burning their wicks filled the tent. For noises so gentle and soothing in their repetitive nature, it was a shame that their sounds were disrupted by the huffed breaths of an irritated tactician.

Stack of tomes littered her desk, their height met with old war manuscripts and stratagems, atlases and encyclopaedias. Balanced precariously on top were candles and wedged between pages were scraps of parchment and ribbons acting as makeshift bookmarks. The nib of her quill caught roughly, the ink blotching onto her page smudged as her hand passed over it. The tactician grumbled and crossed the word out entirely with a furious scribble. The parchment was not at blame for her irritability, but it was certainly bearing the brunt of it.

'Blue is referred to as the Ylissean colour of Royalty. A visual representation of the blue blood they are said to possess, great King and Lords throughout history have been shown to have blue hair. Such royalty includes Marth of Altea and the bloody annoying Prince Chrom whose royal blue hair even proudly decorates his royal dic-'

Robin jerked, yelping slightly as she caught sight of her mindless scrawling. Her growl of frustration part equal screaming too, she ripped the parchment in half and tossed it far across her tent before slamming her head down to rest atop her arms crossed on the table.

Turning her head slightly, she could see truly how much of her work of revision had been reduced to crumpled balls flung around her tent and groaned.

"Damn him," she muttered. "Damn him and his eyes and hair and body and allure even when soaked. Stupid Prince and his bloody handsomeness." Robin lifted herself up and away from her desk, looking over work she was supposed to be doing. It didn't help much that she was fuming over the impossibility of completing work for the prince when she was swarmed with certain images of said prince.

Kicking the pieces of paper, inexplicably more infuriated when unable to even do that right, she grabbed her hair between her fingers and had the urge to murder something. Her eyes flickered over her work surface, spying the mug Chrom had entered her tent with days ago and seeing her without a drink, had handed her his half-drunk tea. She had drank from the same cup that his mouth, that sensuous mouth, had touched. On top of her bed lay the blanket he had wrapped her in one cold Ferox night. His scent still clung to its fibres.

She was blushing. She could actually feel that heat in her cheeks. Gods help her.

And she was also muttering to herself. Even better. Maybe the Gods would have pity on her now and just let the ground swallow her up whole.

Amidst her garbled grumble to herself, it wasn't until the unmistakable sound of Sully's voice outside her tent made her stop and listen. Tilting her head, Robin stepped closer to the entrance of the tent. A second's listen confirmed it was indeed Sully and another slurred voice which belonged to… Chrom?

Intrigue peaking – so too, did the desire to see the object of her mind's concerning, but realising that would spark another blush – Robin poked her head outside her tent. The display before her had her grappling for her sanity, undeniably certain she'd lost it and would never find it again. "Er, Sully? What's going on?"

The cavalier turned and glanced at Robin over her shoulder, indisposed as she was with Chrom leaning on her. If she had harboured any concern that Chrom was wounded, it was quickly abolished as Sully sent her a grin. It wasn't particularly reassuring, all teeth and cunningness, but surely such a grin would not be signal to an injury. Robin let her eyes quickly scan Chrom, as objectively as her loins would allow her to be, and had a moment of relief before being met with baffling confusion.

"Robin, just the gal we were coming to see! Right, Chrom?"

Sully's wink and nudge couldn't have been any less inconspicuous if she had tried to Robin, but to their intended recipient, Chrom was ignorant. Slowly and surely, the man rotated on his feet and, squinting at the bright light framing Robin, twisted his mouth. Robin's own lips twitched into a smile. "Is he drunk?"

It was a tale oft told, much to the prince's chagrin, of his intolerance to drinks; the results of which would have the Shepherds guffawing and Chrom hiding his face in his hands. Being one of the few members who had never been granted the occasion of seeing their leader inebriated, it had been Robin who had been quick to his defence. Partly as when the tale had been told, the casualness of which Chrom and Lissa were treated had still had her baffled, so sure there must be some form of regal propriety that would demand her respect. And secondly, because she had known the Shepherds to favour grandiose tales over those of truth.

Yet, seeing her commander, the prince of Ylisse, stumbling and gaping at her in unsurpassed astonishment had Robin, for all her previous agitation, giggling.

"Robin! Say, you're really glow-y. Woah, can you do magic to make you all…" Chrom waved his hands in front of himself as he stepped away from Sully. The action itself was adorable, but coupled with the way he titled his head and stuck his tongue out in concentration, Robin experienced a sensation she had never felt before: She wanted to squeal.

"It's the candles, Chrom."

"Candles! Hah! Of course it is." He shook his finger at her then, shaking his head at her and chuckling. Robin just rose her eyebrows, laughing breathily and resisting the urge to squeeze him into a hug and declare him goddamn adorable. She had never understood the senseless cooing Lissa would descend into upon being met with a cute animal. Right now, Robin had a much greater appreciation for the feeling.

Her eyes closed and her head shook, both at the scene presented before her and the ridiculous plethora of giggly giddiness she felt. At least, she thought to herself to shed some reasoning back to the situation, a cutely drunk Chrom was easier to be in company with than, basically, any other type of Chrom. "Do you need a hand getting him to bed?" Robin asked out-loud, opening her eyes to see Sully. She blinked. Sully had vanished, and even jogging out to fully brief the area, it was apparent that the cavalier had taken a runner. Robin huffed.

"Guess it's just you and –" She turned back to face Chrom then and jolted at not immediately finding him. That was until she looked down and broke into fresh laughter.

Chrom had decided, perhaps not entirely consciously, to lay on the ground and wave his legs and arms in the dirt. Peeking up at her face looming over him, he declared self-assuredly, "This would look sooo much better if I was in snow."

"I imagine it would, now come on," Robin said, holding her hand out for him to grab and heave himself up. His hand in hers, she felt oddly reminiscent of months past in green fields when being brought upwards, she had been met with a handsome man. That exact same feeling of excited nervousness rammed into her full force just as it had that time before.

"Umm, yes, so off to bed!" she giggled and then exhaled, sighing at herself.

Chrom, still standing and waiting obediently for her next move, suddenly leant against her. His hair tickled her neck. "…Your bed?"

"Of course my bed, Chrom. I'm not dragging you to yours."

Struggling under the sudden weight of him leaned fully on her, Robin awkwardly manoeuvred herself to grasp him around the waist. Her strength was by no means on par with Sully's and Robin sagged under the heaviness. For all that being muscle as he was without his pauldron or sword, she marvelled at Chrom's physique and what he was packing beneath his clothing.

Her hand met his stomach as he swayed, taut under her fingers and she gasped, stumbling. How strongly she had wanted to trail her fingers over the line of hair under his navel, to let her tongue lap at the water pouring from him only a week gone. That urge still hadn't quite abated it seemed.

Robin shook her head and took a breath to clear her mind and shared with herself a pearl of wisdom: Don't envision men naked and under your touch. Especially when said man was currently indisposed and subject to persuasiveness. Using a man for sex went against every moral, but goddamn was the temptation there. It took more effort than it should have to not let him fall and climb atop him there and then.

The swell of gratitude was immense as she was finally able to let Chrom drop to her pallet, free to release her shoulder from the strain. Grinning obliviously to her inner thoughts, Chrom stretched out languidly, drawing her eyes to his form inadvertently. It was objective – as she would observe her comrades for anything deviating off the norm, so too, would she take a thorough glance at her captain.

"Wait," Chrom said, flinging himself up into a position of sitting and scaring Robin half to death. "Where you sleeping?"

"On the floor?" she supplied, averting her eyes. She hadn't thought that far through, an embarrassment for the usually holistic tactician. There was the idea of Chrom's bed, but not only did the very thought have her flushing – he wouldn't even be in it and yet she was still going red – leaving a drunk Chrom alone seemed hardly sensible.

"No, no." Chrom shook his head, his gestures becoming all so animated, each one had Robin smiling. "Sleep here." He patted her pallet and inviting though the notion was, she refused.

Instead, Robin rested on her knees and began a methodical process of removing anything bulky from him. Off came his boots and belts, but at his tunic, Robin hesitated. Held by its array of various buttons, she doubted she had the known dexterity, and such a reason was enough to leave it on him. The fact that he would not be topless happened to be an added-

In one fluid motion, Chrom slid his tunic over his head, revealing the muscles that Robin had to sit on her fingers for to stop herself from touching.

"Umm, no. I'll take my floor," she decided, skidding back away from him as though distance could detangle her fantasies. Quickly grabbing her blankets, she threw them over him, deliberately covering all skin save for his face. Even that was temptation enough.

She stood then and had only got to kicking her boots off and removing her cloak when she was pulled back down. "Gaaah! Hey! You-!" She stiffened.

The tickle of Chrom's hair and next, his lips on the back of her neck as he mumbled, "Stay here," caused her stomach to do all kinds of weird things. His breath alone on her skin had her shivering, the slow, tickling way his fingers danced across her stomach had her biting her lip.

"I need to blow the candles out." Thank the Gods her voice wasn't quivering as every other part of her felt like it was.

"Then you'll come back here?" Chrom asked and when she turned to face him, feeling all resolve slip, the begging look he gave her was impossible to say no to.

She nodded, making quick work of snuffing the candles and returning to the bed. Chrom held his arms out, waiting for her to curl against him and Robin squirmed with the heat steadily working down to rest between her legs.

"I won't bite. Knight's promise," he said with a smile.

"What if I want you too?" she muttered back, too low for him to hear, and taking a gulp of air, eased herself next to him. The squeak she emitted as he pulled her close had him laughing.

"Has anyone told you your bed is really comfortable?"

"No-one has been in my bed before."

"Really?" Even in the dark, she was sure she could see his grin. His surprise at that only tempered her rise of indignation due to the fact he sounded thrilled. "I'm the first?"

Robin relaxed a little against him and placed her hand atop his collarbone, finding it the safest place. How tempting it was to just turn her head and dot his shoulder and neck with her lips. "Yes, Chrom. You're the first."

She felt Chrom sink deeper into the pallet as he released a satisfied exhale of breath. "That's good." He yawned, natures ingrained enough for him to cover it with his hand. "I don't want others in your bed. Just you and me."

"Okay, Chrom."

"No, no. I mean it." He pulled away slightly just to prop himself up on an elbow over her. "I'll be sharing my bed one day, and I have every intension of you being at my side." His eyelids dropped slightly and that was all he said before he smiled softy at her and dropped down so it was his head that rested on her shoulder. He snored softly against her skin and Robin felt her lips curving into a smile.

Brushing his hair to one side as she would never allow herself to do when he was awake, she almost missed his sleep-infused murmur of, "I love you."

Robin froze, eyes caught as wide as a doe's in the face of a hunter until he snored again, tightening his arm slung over her waist. Likely in an alcohol-induced dream state, Robin gave no great heed to his muttering, also declaring that to be safer than untangling the complexity of emotions in her. For all she was aware, he could be dreaming of Sumia's pies. He had often declared his adoration for them, much to her annoyed exasperation. Though even if he was, that was not enough to deter the sensations fluttering in her chest.

Pressing her lips to the crown of his head, she whispered softly back, "I love you too, you adorable man."

..
..

Waking up, for all the wonderful connotations it held of blissful awakenings and birdsong and God knows what else, was rather cruel. He already missed his slumber brimming with senseless dreams that were devoid of logic and reality, and thus wildly welcome for that reason. Distanced from the truths of life, it was easier to revel in them then face his life waiting beyond his closed eyelids. His conscious mind told him the sense of unease was ridiculous, his gut feeling was one of worry.

With great reluctance, Chrom opened his eyes, groaned, rubbed a hand across his face and let his eyelids close shut again. Soft pillows under his head, warm blankets encasing his body that felt good against his bare skin…

Bare skin? Chrom jolted, lifting the edge of the blanket to confirm that yes, he was wearing trousers. He hadn't been held captive by ladies of the night – a possibility Frederick had embarrassingly often warned him of when gallivanting out with Gaius. Still, this wasn't his tent.

His had distinctively blue interior, which he put down to Frederick's pedantic attention to his fondness of the colour, and contained considerably less books. On the floor, atop the trunk and table, piled high beside the pallet and even down beside a pair of sock clad feet.

For the second time that morn, Chrom felt a ripple of shock go through him. Cautiously, his gaze trailed up from the feet, already catching sight of the coat, but nevertheless continuing until he could be entirely sure in his confirmation. Seemingly unaware of his gawping, Robin sat idly at her table, quill in her left hand with a frown creasing her brow. The soft long scratching of her quill made him think she wasn't writing and giving the slight sighs she was making, whatever her work was, it wasn't going accordingly.

With a deeper frown, she swiped her hand across the page, uncaring of the ink left on her hand and took the opportunity to look up at him then. For the briefest moment, surprise flitted across her face, as so too, even more bafflingly, did a blush.

"Good morning," she greeted, dropping her chin down to avoid his eyes.

It was then Chrom noticed her hair was devoid of its usual braids and half-up do. The style that granted her practicality and teased him with the way tendrils caressed her neck the way he wanted his fingers to. Down and curling slightly, it reached her mid back and framing her face, made her rich eyes appear darker, smokier.

He swallowed and sat up fully. Again, Robin blushed, her eyes darting to his chest before turning away. Male pride welled up in him as did the urge to smirk, but neither quite quelled his embarrassment. "Uh, good morning to you too. Did I…" he begun, gesturing wordlessly to the pallet beneath him. He was certain of his having spent the night, but still he felt compelled to ask. Somehow though, even without voicing out loud that he'd slept in her bed – Robin's bed – he still felt a mixture of pleasure and awkwardness. Thank the Gods he was wearing his trousers.

"You were drunk," Robin said by way of explaining, still studiously avoiding his gaze.

"Right." He nodded, finding he had no recollection of it. Very drunk was more applicable it seemed.

"I woke you in the middle of the night and forced you to drink a pint of water alongside some dry crackers. I hope that has deterred any headache?"

"It has worked a treat: aside from confusion, I can report no other concerns." There was the matter of the tightness low in his abdomen, but he didn't feel like divulging that.

"That's good then," she said, voice trailing off.

Chrom looked at her, enraptured by the way her hair was coiled around her fingers and the restless way her foot tapped against the floor. The back of her neck was exposed as she leaned forward very slightly and Chrom was suddenly met with the image of him kissing that patch of smooth skin, breathing in her scent of vanilla and cinnamon.

"Ah, er. May I ask where you slept last night?"

"…Do you recall anything of the previous night?" she asked in return, and perhaps it was a fault in his hearing, but he was sure there was a worried hesitance in her voice.

Images rose to the forefront of his mind as so too did the feel of her snug in his arms, pulling her against him and taking satisfaction in feeling no inhibitions. How easily he had revelled in enjoying the rightness of her being at his side. Had he maybe said…? He gulped and again, he chose not to speak those musings out loud. "No, not really."

"Oh," she sighed. Disappointedly? Relieved? He really couldn't tell. "Well, at your insistence, I slept with – ah! Beside! – you!"

Chrom would have chuckled, so rare it was to see Robin flustered, but he felt the own colour on his cheeks and tried not to think heavily on why he felt a surge of disappointment at her change from "with".

It was around then he was reminded of the nakedness of his chest and how wonderfully drawn, yet embarrassed of that fact, Robin seemed to be as a result. He really couldn't quite dispel his smirk nor his blush as he drew the covers fully back and declared he would return to his own tent.

As he rose, however, he was bewildered when Robin too jumped up and held her hands up. "You may wish to wait a while. Frederick came by on his quest for your presence. I told him I was not yet dressed to deter him entering and sent him towards the command tent. I believe he bought my alibi of having arranged to meet you there."

"As quick witted as ever, Robin," Chrom complimented, having halted his steps forward but now with his tunic back on. The addition of clothes brought back some sense of normalcy, if he could avert his attention from still being in her tent. He'd only been in here four times, two of which had been to check on her health, once to give her a map and the other because truthfully, he had just sought her presence.

With the opportunity to, his eyes gave a brief once-over her items more thoroughly than he had when first awaken. The books and various titbits were no shock, but the mug he'd had in his possession days past and the blanket he'd draped over her one cold night had him pleasantly surprised. And warm, there was a definite warmth descending in him, though he quite couldn't decide why, or rather, believe it wise to think why he might be so warm.

"Yes, well. You being here for a while longer won't cause any harm," she said. "Less than appropriate it is, I do like you being here." She gasped then, quickly shaking her head and correcting, "I mean, I enjoy the company. It could be anyone, not just you. But I like that it's you. No, I mean-!"

"Gods, Robin," Chrom interrupted, "If you wanted to keep me here for personal reasons, you could have just said so."

Robin's head jerked up towards him then, mouth agape and eyes wide. It was then that Chrom spluttered and his voice caught on his, "Uh." He had no plausible answer for having said that. It had come into his head, amused at her being the one flustered rather than himself, bypassed reason and was out his mouth before he could have stopped it.

"It… May seem that the alcohol has not yet truly left my system."

To his great relief, Robin laughed. "Perhaps, but the fact you can be rather impetuous may be playing its part too."

Chrom huffed a breath, mocking an affronted attitude before he grinned. "True, yet at least I have my reasons. What are yours?"

"Working for a damnable prince who has the gall to steal a woman's bed. You should be grateful I'm so accommodating. Is it not royal law for a prince to be officially courting a woman before partaking in any activities than may tarnish his name?" she bantered back.

"Uh… Officially courting…" Gods, he could feel another wave of heat spreading up. Though unlike previous ones, this too was descending at the plethora of ideas that arose at the two words.

"I'm jesting, Chrom!" Robin laughed, and perhaps it was his mind playing tricks – incapacitated as it still seemed to be - but before she could conceal it entirely, hurt appeared to flit across her features. That was hardly possible though. She had threatened to hang him with his intestines when he had idly mentioned how he wouldn't mind being married to a woman like her. He hadn't even said it would be her specifically, much though the idea was appealing, just one who happened to be a lot like her. He figured she was still stingy over the whole "not a lady" thing. Though in all fairness, he had clammed up when she had made mention of desiring a man with certain traits and had pointedly looked at his lap.

"What if I suggested the idea though?" he asked.

Robin's face coloured brilliantly, and in contrast to her pale hair (he was met with the desire to run his hands through it every time he looked at it), her blush was all the brighter. Yet for all her redness, none of her embarrassment was belied when she answered, "If that's some ploy to get me into bed, you're going to need to try harder."

It was Chrom's turn to look away from her piercing stare, and not having a good enough reply – he refused to take action on the thought of pulling her to him and throwing her on the bed: partially because she would gut him, somewhat because he would honestly never leave her tent – he shook his head, bid her a hasty farewell and taking his chances, left her tent.

..
..

Try harder… Why was he considering those words far greater than what he should?

It was purely rhetorical: there was no-one in the clearing save for himself and the whistle of Falchion through the air. Frederick was likely nearby, his dedication to duty ensuring he was never far from his Lord's side should he desire an answer, but he decided against that quickly. There was no doubt that asking his friend would only result in a lifetime of chagrin. It had been bad enough creating valid excuses as to why Frederick had been unable to find him the other morning. He took no pleasure in lying, but that fleeting emotion of guilt was favourable over detailing why exactly he'd not been in his tent. Ironic as it was, he had spent most of that remaining day in his tent, but as much with his whereabouts, Chrom had no desire to disclose what he'd been doing whilst there.

"Gods," he muttered quietly to himself, stabbing Falchion into the ground and sinking down to rest against a nearby tree. He could have remained there for minutes or days, silently brooding and, if being honest to himself, regretting not having thrown Robin onto her pallet and meeting any protests with his mouth.

That was until he heard the chatter of his Shepherds and when opening an eye, noted Sully and Gaius walking near him.

"Say, Blue. You aint looking too bright. Up late last night?"

Chrom opened both eyes and raised a brow at the thief. He was well aware that the camp knew of his drunken moment, but both Robin and he had been adamant that he'd returned to his own tent. Unaccompanied. "I retired as early as I'd expect you all to."

"I'd say he needs a night being kept awake. If you get my gist," Sully said, hands situated firmly on her hips.

"You gonna give him the honours?" Gaius said, smirking around the lollipop perpetually in his mouth.

"Did you get slapped up the head, Chuckles? Course I'm not! I'd say that's a certain gall's job."

Chrom looked at the both of them, unable to shake the feeling that this conversation had been rehearsed previously. Given both their smirking faces, he very much doubted he would like the conclusion. He didn't need to be goaded into asking whom they were referring to, already holding a suspicion.

Nevertheless, Gaius, taking a seat next to him and bumping his elbow into Chrom's side, continued, "There's a pretty lass with white hair I've heard you're taking a shining to."

Chrom rolled his eyes. "Yes, Robin is a dear friend."

"With benefits?"

"Not in that sense!"

Sully plopped down beside him too, and in a similar fashion to Gaius, knocked her shoulder into Chrom's. "I'm no expert, but even I'd say Robin's quite the catch. Her physique is tight and us girls would kill for a pair like hers."

The Prince sighed and lent his head back to avoid their eyes by studying the canopy above.

"She won't be single forever, Blue."

"Robin does not appear to be the type for settling down," he answered and in a many ways, that was the root for his hesitance around her. He could harbour many daydreams, be they achievable or entirely composed of fantasy, but if his feelings were unreciprocated, what good was it doing him to pursue them?

"As if she'd even turn you down if you plucked up the courage to court her. She doesn't half watch you a lot around camp," Sully added and Chrom desisted the reaction to say, "She does?"

He let his thoughts roam to times he'd caught her staring under her guise of reading, the blushes dusting her cheeks, how attentive she was to his anatomy. An attraction was not enough for a relationship though. He was likely just a friend in her eyes, and although painful to consider, he would come to live with that. She had made it clear even when not on the subject of romance that she would always be his tactician as long as he continued to need her. What he hadn't said was his question of if she would remain at his side even if he no longer needed a tactician.

"Considering she kept that… motivation poster too, I'd say she thinks of you in her tent too."

"And in privacy, who knows what Bubbles gets up to," Gaius said, taking the sweet from his mouth and studying it appreciatively, he rolled the stick between his fingers.

Chrom sat up then and with his eyes narrowed, said, "I would ask you to remember that Robin is the royal tactician, Gaius. I will not have you speak of her… activities so freely." He swallowed and clenched his hands together, loathing the very idea that Gaius had pictured or even briefly considered what Robin may, or may not, be doing.

Gaius shrugged. "I bet she's doing them over you."

That had the royal's tongue catching in his throat. That cunning smile of hers which could hold myriad secrets; it was hard not to imagine his Robin engaging in something so illicit. Chrom abruptly stood up, grabbing his sword from its position and quickly slotting it through his belt.

"Need I remind you whom you are talking to? I will not tolerate such salacious gossip." Chrom lifted his head and set his glare on Gaius, shifting his eyes to Sully to deter the remark he could see brewing. He despised the very notion of pulling rank, much less resorting to it, but he disliked the idea of Robin and he being seen as nothing more than people falling privy to their desires even less so. If Robin and he did engage in such activities, however fantastical the thoughts were, he would not be goaded into it, regardless how tempting it sounded.

To his relief and slight guilt, his comrades dropped their eyes, both muttering a form of apology that was hardly sincere, but at least it was something. Still, he hated to think his friends were discussing their time spent together and expecting that is was something incredibly different to tactical manoeuvres they were performing.

"I would not think my reminder is needed, but nevertheless, if I so much as hear a whisper of this, I will guarantee my punishments will be far worse than Frederick's. Am I understood?"

Gaius and Sully nodded once, and in unison, said, "Yes, sir."

"Good." Chrom nodded sharply and left them both sitting.

Once he had vanished from their sight, the two red-heads turned to one another. Both had mirroring expressions of sheepishness. By no means was the bet being called off, but 'subtly' was the new key word.

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Thank you all for reading! I make no promises of updating, but alas, I hold the great intention of completion.