Passing Down Knowledge

To some of Gerome and Lucina's combined relief, the Shepherds soon proved to be more rational than they first dreaded. Lucina's trousseau would just consist of one new dress that her mother, mother-in-law and apparently most of the female Shepherds asserted she be married in. The wedding feast would be only an expanded dinner with everyone able to have a second helping of whatever was on the table. True, there would be more music played and there would indeed be dancing. But apart from that – and the wedding ceremony just before the feast ("In these precarious times, Naga would have no objection to, ah, abridged, rituals," Libra had assured Chrom who would have to preside over the affair as Exalt) – nothing else would change. Guards would still be posted, watch would still be kept, the army would still remain on alert. Well, with the exception of the newlyweds of course.

To Gerome's growing irritation, everyone kept unnecessarily reminding him about that, like he wasn't aware of how he'd be given a night off. There was no need to constantly rub this privilege in with the constant winking, and elbow poking (the mask evidently did nothing in the face of his upcoming nuptials) as if not having to go on guard duty that night was a thing to be so envied. Everyone had their turns – what was so special about not keeping watch on one's wedding night?

Gerome had reluctantly muttered as much to his father one afternoon, as they stood watch on the eastern perimeter of camp. (Such a miracle was the result of prolonged, tenacious needling as to why he was so annoyed when he had only a week left to wait till the wedding.)

Gaius's response was characteristically eloquent: he choked on a boiled sweet.

"Th, THAT'S (KLUACK) what you're (HACK) worked up about?" he wheezed after he'd nearly coughed both lungs out of his mouth.

Gerome glowered, twisting his hand around Minerva's reins. For just five seconds, he'd actually been worried about his father's life. "This whole thing has turned the camp into a circus full of nothing but clowns." He gripped the leather harder. "And none of them entertaining."

"…Gerome. It's not guard duty they're jabbing you about." Gaius sighed. "Look. It's… you know what happens on a wedding night, don't you?"

The glower could have incinerated a man on the spot. "Do you take me for a fool? Of course."

"Then," Gaius paused, scrutinizing his son a bit more. "Really? Do you honestly know what I'm talking about?"

Minerva looked askance at the way her boy was gripping the reins and wondered if it was worth observing it might just rip if he grasped it any tighter. After a moment of smelling the curious mixture of fury and mortification emanating off him, she decided to keep her silence.

"Yes," replied Gerome through gritted teeth.

Gaius assessed his chances of survival if he pushed the subject. Then he took the necessary precaution of taking a step back before he posed his question.

"Cross your heart?"

If Gerome had been a wyvern, this would have been the moment Gaius found himself being sawn in half by rows of very sharp teeth. Instead, human Gerome could only toss the reins aside and whirl around in frustration.

"I'm sharing a tent with Lucina from then on, what do you think I am not aware of?"

Gaius backed another step away. "Fair enough, fair enough. I just thought, maybe in the future… since I wasn't around to, y'know, talk to you about any of this stuff…"

Gerome glared at him. "Inigo found manuals in the libraries. He naturally," the word was scathingly pronounced, "left them lying around the training quarters."

"When you say manuals…" Gaius very quickly dodged when Gerome lunged at him. "Easy, son! I was just making sure! Gods, you're wound up tighter than a screw… "

Gerome could make no answer, trying to regain his temper. As he looked at his father's puzzled yet concerned face, a sense of contriteness filled his breast. No matter how irritating Gaius could be, he was making an effort to look out for him. Even if Gerome was just his fellow soldier, to say nothing of a son, this sudden lack of self-control was disgraceful.

And if truth be told, in the middle of all this anger and embarrassment, there was something else Gerome wasn't sure anyone else he trusted (however reluctantly) would understand.

"I'm sorry. That was… uncalled for."

Gaius blinked. Gerome's shoulders hadn't exactly relaxed, but there was a bit of a slump in the military posture he always had. "That's alright."

Gerome stared at his hand, opening and closing his fingers into a fist as if he were testing them out for the first time. "It's just… I don't... know."

"…you don't know… what?"

The man seemed to hesitate. Then he breathed out.

"I don't know… if I'm doing the right thing. Dragging her into a life with me. Especially in a time we don't belong to."

Gaius eyed his son warily as he stepped quietly closer. Even he knew when not to make jokes. Though he seemed calm now, Gerome could be unpredictable.

But for his son, Gaius supposed he could take more risks than the usual quota. In fact, he'd fly in the face of the creed of all thieves to gladly take any and every risk for his son.

"I don't know about the time bit. But no one really knows for sure if they'll always be happy before they're married." When Gerome deigned to glance at him, he smirked. "Heck, half the time I clearly make your mother mad."

"…I can believe that."

Gaius rolled his eyes. "Look, gimme a break. I'm tryin' to be fatherly here."

A tiny smirk flickered off as quickly as it had appeared on Gerome's lips, but thieves had quick eyes. Nonetheless, Gaius merely jerked his chin towards a grassy hill nearby. "Let's take a quick walk. Minerva can keep an eye out for a minute or two."

When Gerome showed reluctance, Minerva added her voice. He ought to go with his father, she said.

"There. If she approves, you can't object."

Gerome sighed. Then with one last backward look at the wyvern, he kept pace with Gaius.

"I know you're scared."

"I'm not-" Gerome received a look and pressed his lips together again, looking away. Gaius let it go then, as they sat atop the mound. Neither noticed they'd crossed their legs in exactly the same fashion.

"…the best of us get scared. Who are we to promise things we can't really guarantee? And for life too, which you can tell may be short these days."

Gerome stared out onto the wide sky, feeling himself tense at the thought of losing the people they had come to save (and regain). Lucina especially hated the thought of anyone's death, but so did all the other children. Their parents would always accept the risk more readily… if only because they hadn't seen what would be left behind.

"But you love her."

Gaius eyed his son – whose face had (on cue) turned a few shades pinker – and couldn't help smiling. "For once, you and I've got something in common." At Gerome's wary glance, he laughed. "I don't get mushy with your mother in public. But I'd rather see her alive and cursing me for getting in between her and a Risen. I'd wager my entire stash of honey-glazed sugar sticks on the fact you'd do the same for Blue's daughter. No matter whether in your future, or this present, or any other time, you'd keep her safe."

Gerome looked at his hands. "…I promised myself, I'd protect her… as much as I should've protected you and Cherche."

Around them, as Gaius looked at his son for a long time in silence, trees murmured and rustled in the wind. They seemed to find it easier to speak.

But at last, Gaius decided – once again flying in the face of everything a thief was supposed to do – it was just best to be honest.

"You didn't fail us. You never could."

Finally, Gerome looked fully at his father. Gaius had a rare smile on his face, full of pride and affection.

"You made it so far, all on your own. You had it tough – and we weren't there to make it any easier. Now there's only so much time left before you set off on something else we can't always help you with. If anyone says that's not something to be proud of… well," He shrugged. "To hell with that opinion. I'm gonna be proud of you, like it or not."

Gerome felt a strange sense of pleased embarrassment but kept up his poker face even as he said, "…thanks."

Gaius smirked. "Welcome."

There was more quietness, but it was easier and freer to breathe now. A sense of a hurdle overcome or a dam broken so a stream could run clear again filled the air.

"You'll be fine, Gerome."

He looked up. "…how do you know?"

Gaius pulled out a wrapped sweet, fingers working to pull the thin paper off. "You're better than your old man, I shouldn't wonder. So if your mother's still stickin' with me after all I put her through, Lucina won't give up on you. That girl's the same determined type."

Gerome's answering smile was small, but Gaius knew how to read it. It was a more heartfelt thank you than anything else his son could have said.

Unfortunately, the smile vanished at the next insidious question that ran through Gerome's mind.

"…even if…"

Gaius's eyes slid sideways and caught the blush rising in Gerome's face. Alarm bells started ringing in his head.

"Yeah?"

When Gerome hesitated far longer than was comfortable, Gaius subtly replaced the sweet back in its wrapper. Choking was not an option – he didn't think he could survive two experiences like that in one day.

The younger man bowed his head, letting out a mix between a sigh and a low groan. "…even in private matters?"

"Well… you know the basics, right?"

"…theoretically."

It was a good thing Gaius felt as uncomfortable as Gerome looked. If not, he would have burst out laughing and it would have made for a terrible ending to their heart-to-heart.

"Guess those manuals really were just manuals…" He muttered, before commenting louder, "I suppose it's not surprising given your world in the future. Doubt there was much… opportunity to practice."

Gerome didn't like to think he was the type to squirm. He merely shifted weight. "I was always too busy training. I don't believe Lucina's… practiced either."

"Y'never know." When Gerome abruptly looked up at him, he raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter if she has?"

"…no."

"Truthfully?" He raised an eyebrow. "I ask because if it matters, you should be talking it out with her, not me."

Gerome looked away to the horizon, discomforted and reluctant to answer… but knowing he had to if he wanted to have his mind clear.

"…she's still Lucina, experienced or not. It changes nothing, so it doesn't matter."

"Then if she is, she'll probably tell you what to do. If she's not, remember what you've read. And just…" Gaius made a face. It was bloody difficult putting this in words to a grown son you technically never had. He'd die for this boy but damned if he knew how to explain technique without feeling like an idiot.

Then again, Gaius was well aware Gerome was already putting almost everything on the line by asking questions this far. That was how nervous the boy was. Surely the least a considerate father could do was give him some measure of practicaladvice.

"…just ask."

"…ask?"

Gaius mussed the back of his hair, not quite daring to look his son in the eye. "When you're… together, just… ask her questions. What, y'know, feels right or what makes her, uh, happy. Trust me, if she's happy, it'll make things easier."

"Happy," repeated Gerome with two parts scepticism, three parts understanding. "…right."

Gaius could have wrung his hands. Why didn't he have a daughter? Then this would be Cherche's job and he wouldn't have to explain. ('Course, he'd have to kill the man who managed to convince his baby girl to marry him, but that was another story.)

"…look, I'm just gonna have to be blunt. If she likes you kissing her, do it. If she likes massages, do it. If you…" He looked up to the sky, asking Naga why he was doing this. "I dunno, if you like her licking your toes or something, ask her if she'll do it. Nicely."

Gerome erupted with a "WHAT?!"

"All I'm saying," hurried Gaius along, feeling distinctly unclean for a huge variety of reasons and (for once) begging forgiveness from any listening gods, "is that this is a really give and take thing. But just… pay attention to her as well, not only yourself." After another severely awkward moment of silence, he sighed. "You'll learn, and so will she. You're just gonna have to trust me on that."

Flaring with all sorts of emotions – humiliation, shock, the urge to hit his father over the head with his axe, a bizarre wonder at a world that could contain such a suggestion as Gaius had put forth – Gerome eyed him cautiously again. But seeing how his father was steadfastly refusing to look at him, with a face as rigid as a bright red board, he found enough grace to consider that this was probably as hard for the thief as it was for him.

So the wyvern rider nodded. Stiffly, but it was a clear acceptance: he would trust the other man. "Alright."

The words in Gaius's mind flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. "In the meantime I should probably find you a better manual."

When he realized what he'd just said, he braced himself for some sort of scathing retort. Yet, all Gaius got instead was an uncomfortable squirm (there was no other word for it at this stage), and a very, very quick nod before Gerome got swiftly to his feet, announcing he'd scout the rest of the borders with Minerva. Gaius would just have to take the ground watch on his own.

He'd progressed a few steps when he stopped and turned.

"Thank you again… Father."

Before Gaius could stop him – this was, what, only the second time he'd ever been called that? – Gerome was already walking briskly, almost jogging, back to where Minerva waited. It wasn't too long before the wyvern took to the sky.

Gaius remained where he sat, watching the silhouette against the clouds, and then smirked to himself. Finally, he could eat his candy in peace.

It could've been worse, he concluded. Gerome could have just ignored him, or flown away from the get go, not wanting to open up about any of these troubles.

Or not read manuals to begin with.

For the second time that day, Gaius found himself having to spit out a boiled sweet before he choked to death.

.

End.

A/N: ...alright, so this might be more than just a one-shot. Forgive my indulgence.

I'm operating on the assumption that the kids were orphaned at a relatively tender age - earliest at 11, I'm very much guessing - but they still would've found some way to learn about sex. The headcanon here is that since Inigo is Lucina's brother, he would've probably found his way into the pertinent section of the castle library pretty easily despite the war. (Even royal libraries will have their version of the Kama Sutra or something alike, I'm sure. For the sake of completion, if nothing else.)

My apologies if a virginal Gerome doesn't quite gel with your headcanon, but I do think he'd have been too focused on Being Orphaned, Fighting to Stay Alive and Protecting His Friends to pay much more than basic attention to anything else. (I suspect the usual dreams (starring Lucina) have occurred, but he hasn't cared to tell me and frankly, I don't think he'd let me live if I asked.)

Uh, anyway. Thank you for reading through the awkwardness!