Chrom knows he's in for trouble the second he steps inside their tent from the way Robin smirks at him. He falls back half a step, feels the tent flaps brush his cape, but stops just short of running the other way. His gaze drifts away from his tactician to his cot, and unease starts to well in his chest.
Robin watches him carefully, waiting for Chrom to make the first move, and all Chrom can do is shift uncomfortably in his mismatched boots. He knows that look. It's that same look-calculating with a hint of mischief-that Robin has perfected when it comes to getting Chrom to agree to his proposals, and even though Chrom recognizes it, he feels his resolve waver.
Robin gives in first, biting his lip to hold back a larger grin. "Well?"
Chrom stares hard at the cot and starts to shake his head. "No," he eventually says, tone harsh compared to Robin's entirely too calm prompting. "Absolutely not."
"Why not?" Robin asks innocently, stepping forward to pull Chrom farther inside the tent by the hand.
Despite his misgivings, Chrom doesn't resist, though his frown deepens the closer he gets to the armor Robin has spread out for him.
As if it can be called armor, he thinks with a scoff.
He's seen on the collection of arm bands and chains on Vaike everyday for the past two years, and he hopes to every god in existence that Robin will make Vaike reclass immediately. The whole thing is impractical at best and downright scandalous at worst. Plus, Vaike had never able to give him a straight answer as to what the chains were even for. He's about to tell Robin as much when he notices that the other man is doing a very poor job hiding his mirth.
The prince rolls his eyes and states simply, "You aren't serious."
"I'm always serious," Robin replies easily, smile growing even wider at Chrom's huff.
He's convinced Robin is trying to get back at him for something careless he'd said. It's the only explanation for why he'd think Chrom as a fighter would be a good idea. The trouble is that Chrom makes so many offhand comments that frankly it could be anything.
He racks his brain, nothing immediately coming to mind. "Is this about what I said the other day?" he tries, hoping Robin will have mercy and give him the answer.
Robin shakes his head and picks one of the bands up, pretending to inspect it. "You mean that comment about me needing to put on more muscle?"
Ah. Chrom grimaces at the memory of a conversation that had gone completely wrong (since when did any conversation of his ever go right?) and rubs at his exposed arm.
"I meant that we should build up your endurance, so you don't get so tired every time we march, not that you need to be..." He waves a hand in Robin's general direction, his cheeks flushing. "...bigger."
"Hm, right." Robin narrows his eyes playfully, setting the band down. "And no. This has nothing to do with that. But do you remember when I mentioned we'd have to make a few changes around here to play to our strengths?"
Chrom nods slowly, gaze suddenly riveted as Robin absently picks up a leather belt next and pulls it tight.
"Then it's your lucky day," Robin says, patting him on the chest.
Chrom catches his hand, squeezes his fingers, and takes a second to refocus. "Robin…"
"We need another fighter, Chrom, and it's either you or...well, it's just you, actually."
Chrom lets Robin slip out of his grip to throw himself into a full-body glare at the offending armor. "Explain to me how that is better than what I have now."
Robin sighs, mutters something to himself, and starts to remove Chrom's pauldron. Chrom gets a confused "Huh?" out, but he's never objected to being undressed by Robin and he likes being helpful, so they make quick work of it together.
"You'll diversify your skillset, for starters," Robin replies as he starts to work on the buttons of his tunic.
"But it's so exposed." Chrom tosses his tunic on the cot and stands in his trousers, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't miss the way Robin's eyes follow the slope of his shoulders downward, and he almost lets it distract him before thinking better of it and deciding to rally what's left of his resolve. It's not much, if his state of undress is anything to go by, but it's something.
Chrom presses on. "It's an open invitation for an enemy to spear me through the heart. I'd rather forfeit the war to Gangrel and take up actual shepherding before changing into that."
"At least try it on." Robin laughs, ignoring Chrom's protests. He holds out the vambrace.
Chrom hesitates. "...Did you know I'm the prince of Ylisse?"
Robin snorts. "Yes, I'm aware. Stop stalling."
So much for resolve.
Chrom isn't vocal about his displeasure, but he huffs under his breath and shakes his head enough times to make it clear he'd rather run himself through with Falchion than reclass. Robin keeps up a smile, hands lingering as he helps Chrom into the simple armor. He's not used to anything other than his right arm showing, and the feel of the cold metal against his torso draws a shiver out of him.
Robin takes a step back to admire the result, while Chrom doesn't waste time looking and states plainly, "I hate it."
"I love it."
He gives Robin his best unimpressed stare, but the tactician doesn't catch it, choosing to take in every detail of the handsome prince dressed like a brutal warrior. Robin is utterly delighted, and he reaches up to loop his index fingers through the chains and pull Chrom closer.
"Well, isn't this convenient," he says, gaze warm.
"Too convenient." Chrom mumbles, taking the opportunity to capture his Robin's lips with his. He's perfectly content to keep Robin occupied like this for the rest of the afternoon, but he lets him up for air to ask a pressing question.
"You just wanted me like this all along, didn't you?"
"It's possible," Robin hums, sweeping his hands up and around Chrom's bare shoulders. "I suppose a cavalier or an archer would be a better fit for you."
"I'll take anything besides this."
Robin gets that clever look again, and Chrom laughs a bit uneasily.
Robin breaks into a wide smile, kissing him lightly and murmuring against his lips, "Let me tell you what I have in mind."