Chapter Text
Today is like any other day. Robin is in the library like he so-often is. Looking for a new book to read, he peruses the shelves until he finally finds one that interests him. When he reaches out for it, his hand touches with another’s doing the same, making him recoil. Before he can apologize and ultimately let them keep the book, the other person speaks first.
“Maaan, talk about a cliche.”
“What are you doing here?” Just great. It’s you. Of the near-hundred people living in this mansion, you’re at the bottom of his list of “people he wants to see” today.
Coincidentally, you’re on that list everyday.
“Getting a book to read. Obviously.” You give him a quirked brow, your expression a combination of amusement and challenge. It’s such a change from your old demeanour - when the Smash season started; you were a lot more meek and easy to push around. Robin remembers how you used to give him those worried, unsure glances back when you didn’t know how to treat him. He had been keeping his opinions about you under lock and key, of course. And for a few weeks after the camping trip, you used to give him sad and confused looks, apparently having no clue what you did to offend him.
Then of course, something changed.
Maybe it was your home burning down? Because after that is when he started hearing stories of your mischief: playing spy at sleepovers, fistfighting rowdy Miis, instigating prank wars… Not to mention, you no longer seemed bothered by what he thought of you. No, now you look at Robin like you’re daring him to start something.
“Also, this is literally my library?” you continue, letting out a half-chuckle. “I can be here if I want.”
“So you just expect me to believe that,” Robin replies with a deadpan. “Our always-busy Host has suddenly unburdened themselves from the clutches of popularity and now wants to enjoy a good book? Are you sure you can spare the time?”
“Okay, you spend WAY too much time in here. You sound like a nerd.” Nothing about his words faze you, your playful smirk impenetrable. “Are you like, jealous or something?”
Instinctively, he almost falls for your taunt and gives an answer. For a split second he sees red where he shouldn’t. But he bites his tongue and lets you keep talking.
“For the record, the reason I don’t come in here is because I’ve read most of these books already. It’s nothing to do with the things I get dragged into or with… working. If you could call it that?” From your expression, it’s clear you don’t call it that. He personally wouldn’t call fooling around with the Smashers “work” either. “I was just talking books with someone and thought it would be nice to have a book I could read before bed again.”
“And ‘101 Curses: Curses for All Occasions’ is your idea of bedtime reading?”
“Ya.” You can’t help but let out a little chuckle as you show off the book to him and start flipping through it. “Galeem and I skimmed it once. Tried a few of them. We like to joke they worked and that’s why the owner of the World of Chaos hates us. But they didn’t work on Dharkon when we tried some on them, so it’s probably just nonsense. …Buuut it might come in handy if any of them ARE real.”
It takes all of Robin’s willpower to not engage in this harmless banter with you. This always happens when you talk to him. At first you mirror his passive aggressiveness, but you’re always quick to let your guard down and start babbling about the same things you’ll share with anyone else.
It’s a familiar dynamic. One that would probably be comforting if he indulged in it.
…But he’s already committed to being mad at you. Even if you don’t know why. Even if you might not deserve it as much as he wants to believe.
He just… can’t let the past go.
“Maybe I should put a curse on you,” is what shakes Robin out of his trance. There’s no venom or malice in your voice. Even if you were talking about the mother of all curses, the tactician couldn’t imagine being scared of you. “I dunno, a curse like…”
You take too long to come up with something, so Robin finds himself playing along despite himself: “Silence for twenty four hours? Or some sort of voodoo magic perhaps?”
“No way, that’s boring. I’m thinking: every time you take a step, a number is rolled between one and ten and if it’s a ten you trip and fall flat on your face.”
It’s so uniquely ridiculous that Robin can’t help but let down his guard. The rules of the game are set and the die has been cast.
“Personally, I would curse you so that none of your favourite clothes fit anymore.”
“How evil!!” Despite the mock-offended tone you have, the wide smile on your face betrays your true feelings. You’re having fun. With him. “I curse you with the need to sneeze but it’ll never happen!”
“Well, I curse you to have an itch you can never reach.”
“Every book you read will have the last page mysteriously missing!”
“I hope you always feel like something is on your face, but there’s never anything there.”
“May you be late to every engagement by exactly one minute!”
“May you accidentally use salt whenever you mean to use sugar.”
“May you have a single spider crawling on you out of nowhere!!”
“May you be stuck in a room with Cloud’s manager after he just lost a match.”
You gasp. “No! That’s too far. I’d never wish that upon anybody.”
Robin laughs at your reaction. “Too late. I can’t take back a curse I’ve already set.”
“Grr… Well, I curse you to--”
“Robin, there you are. Have you-- …am I interrupting something?”
Most certainly interrupting the two of you is none other than Chrom, who somehow managed to approach while you were both goofing off. Now that there’s an audience, the bit comes to an end. Robin finds himself embarrassed to be caught fooling around with someone he’s vowed to hate - especially by Chrom, of all people. If the way you’re tripping over your words to explain yourself means anything, it sounds like you’re embarrassed too. But the tactician is trying desperately not to look at you right now, so he can't confirm or deny this.
“No, not at all.” Robin silently wills his heart to calm down so it may be easier to appear cool and collected on the outside. “What did you need from me?”
“I’m gonna go then!” you blurt out. “You’ll find out what curse I’ve chosen to put on you by tomorrow morning. Byeee bestie!”
With an awkward hum, you dart out of the aisle and hurry away. Robin lets out a huff, glad to finally be rid of your presence. Chrom lets out a small chuckle, prompting the tactician to look back at him.
“What is it?”
“You tell me. Did something good happen?”
“What? No, of course not. What even makes you think that?”
“You’re smiling.”
Horrified, Robin realizes he’s right. He forces himself to frown as the previous interaction with you continues to haunt him. Annoyingly, the effort just seems to amuse Chrom even further.
…The next morning, he finds a magic circle has been painted on his door. It’s clearly fake - there’s a smiley face in the middle of the pentagram.
Even though that seems to be the extent of your “curse”, Robin finds himself spending the day skimming books for a curse to get back at you with. He ultimately shelves the idea when every spell he reads about feels too severe to inflict upon you.