A/N: THIS god-awful manifestation started after I wrote a position paper and is the type of madness that only animal rights essays can bring forth. It's so sad. My brain hurts. Stupid math test and then the social essay and then… ::muttering to self::

This was inspired by the underwear mention in my Oscar/Soren crackfic (reeeaaad iiit…). It's nothing, really, and contains some Ike/Reyson. But just a bit…okay, fine, I'm a liar. LOTS…okay, that's a lie too. IN BETWEEN…but LEANING TOWARDS lots.


Boyd was not known for being the most clever fighter in the Crimean Army.

…okay, so there were a few people he was smarter than (such as Nameless Soldiers #1 through #69). But every self-proclaimed genius had his or her down moments.

Well, with Boyd it was more of a…down...lifetime.

This, however…this took the cake.

Oscar was firmly denying that he was in any way related to the fighter while Soren stood in complete shock. Rolf, Shinon, Gatrie, and Janaff were all laughing far too hard to focus on anything other than breathing. The rest of the mercenaries (or could it be considered an army by now?) were either laughing, shaking their heads, or walking away.

Ike, however, had such an odd look on his face that anyone who looked at him would immediately burst into a fit of giggles. The only one that was managing to contain his laughter slightly was Reyson, who had a hand on Ike's shoulder and was softly singing into the commander's ear, occasionally pressing a soft kiss against the blue-haired man's neck. Ike's right eyebrow twitched, and Reyson kissed that too, smiling.

"You know, that could become the Crimean Army's symbol. None of this crest madness. Just a simple poleaxe," the heron murmured, hooking his arms around his commander.

"That poleaxe," Ike said through gritted teeth, "has my underwear tied to the top. And we are marching into Crimea. What is everyone going to think?"

"That you have a wonderful taste in undergarments," Reyson replied. "Don't fuss about it."

"But Boyd has my underpants on a poleaxe and he is marching into battle with it and everyone in Crimea is going to be greeting the guy with his underpants in the air!!!" By now Ike was shouting hysterically. Reyson visibly flinched and Ike gently wrapped his arms around the blonde. "I'm sorry, Reyson. Shouting bothers you…I know that. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," the heron replied. "You…you calm me down. In all this chaos…"

"Shh." Ike smiled and lightly kissed the heron. "Don't worry about it. Look at me, Reyson. I'm here to protect you. And I'm going to do everything I can to make this easier on you."

Reyson smiled and the pair kissed again; a quick, soft tangle of tongues and one small squeeze of the heron's backside.

"HEY!" Boyd shouted from somewhere ahead of them. "This mercenary company will now be called the Undergarment Mercenaries instead of the Greil Mercenaries, okay?!"

Ike sighed softly. "I swear to all the higher powers that I am going to kill him," he whispered, half-laughing. Reyson smiled.

"That's the spirit," he murmured, running his tongue up the shell of Ike's ear. "If you're going to kill someone, at least be pleasant about it."

The commander smiled, tugged the heron close, and kissed him again. "Yes, love. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a fighter to go murder."

Reyson sighed. "Have a good time."

Ike laughed. "Of course!"

())CRAYOLA))

Twelve bruises and a few cuts later, Boyd decided that 'Greil Mercenaries' was a better name for the company anyways.


A/N: CURSE YOU, POSITION PAPER!!!