Published: 14-Jan-2016
Edited:
Spangled (or where Inigo attempts to learn other arts)
Characters: Gerome (Frederick), Inigo (Chrom)
Setting: modern AU, dumb teenagers
Words: 344
"... I know our fathers may be close friends and that we were childhood friends, but I don't ever recall that being reason enough for you to break into my room to sew spangles into my clothing."
Gerome's voice was filled with barely restrained irritation as he stood there, staring at the perpetrator with accusing eyes.
Seemingly his entire wardrobe had been strewn all over the room, various shirts draped over furniture and pants lying all over the place as if a hurricane had come in. Specifically, a hurricane named Inigo.
Who apparently didn't care that Gerome was feeling particularly homicidal at that very moment.
"You forgot to mention the most important bit, Gerome." Inigo piped up cheerfully as he cut a long piece of thread for his needle. Gerome's favourite shirt was lying across his lap, the dragon-scale print that it came with originally being… enhanced by black beads and sequins. "We're best friends. It means that I get to liven up your wardrobe to my satisfaction!"
Gerome's eyes narrowed, and he carefully picked his way across his room. It was only when he was standing right in front of Inigo that Inigo finally looked up from his handiwork.
The bright shine in his eyes made Gerome's anger falter. Just ever so slightly.
"Look! It looks so much better now!" Inigo enthused, brandishing the shirt at Gerome's face. "I had to practice quite a bit, but it looks a lot more realistic now—not just some black imprint on pink fabric!"
The brunet did have to admit after taking a second look at the shirt that it really did look much better. Even if he wasn't all too happy that Inigo had done this without even telling him in the first place.
"… It still doesn't mean that I won't set Minerva on you."
"Oh no. What would I ever do if you did that? I'm trembling at the very thought!"
Sometimes, Gerome wanted to strangle Inigo—or at least stuff those goddamn sequins down his throat to get him to shut up.
