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Two days passed before Gerome noticed the tear in Lucina's tunic. The last battle had been difficult; Brady was still trying to fix some of the injuries that had been inflicted, including Gerome's knee, which had been nearly crushed when Minerva collided with another wyvern in midair.
Lucina came to see him right away, of course, but he had been in too much pain to pay her proper attention—and he had been intent on getting her to leave, because he hated to see the little crease in her brow when she was worried.
On the morning of the third day, he found that he could limp around without much difficulty, and took full advantage of it to escape the healers' tent and their constant hovering.
He found Lucina practicing alone at the back of the camp where the horses were tied; had he seen her at any other time, he might not have noticed the tear in her tunic, but when she lifted her arms, he saw the fabric beneath her armpit was ripped.
Lucina was a very capable opponent. She was strong and brave and ruthless when she had to be.
But she could do little else.
It wasn't her fault. Lucina's parents had been busy with diplomatic affairs from the moment she was born.
It didn't take long for Lucina to notice him standing by the hitching post, and she ceased her practice immediately and came to join him, looking worried. Before she could ask anything of his health, he said, "Your tunic needs fixed."
Her worried expression faded and she lifted her arm to peer under it. If he didn't know her better, he might have thought she was self-conscious. "Is it really so noticeable?"
"I noticed it."
"You notice everything, Gerome."
That wasn't entirely true: he was no Laurent. "I'll fix it," he said.
She lifted her arm again, and he got a good view of the tear. And of her skin. "Are you sure? It's such a big hole."
He pushed her arm down gently. "I can fix it."
"Okay." She stood there awkwardly, and then he felt awkward. Finally she said, "When?"
"When you give me your tunic."
"Now?"
"What?" he asked, and looked around as if someone might be listening to their conversation. "Not here!"
"Well, no," she said, her cheeks turning pink. "I meant, well, that we could go to your tent and you could fix it now. I don't think you can fix this without me taking it off."
The idea of Lucina without her tunic on in his tent with him was certainly a pleasant thought, but he pushed it reluctantly out of his mind. "Don't you have a change of clothes?"
"Cherche is washing them."
Of course she would be. "I suppose it can't be helped," he said. "Let's go."
The only thing more appealing than Lucina without a tunic on in his tent was Lucina without a tunic on in his tent wrapped up in his sheet. He tried not to stare as he threaded the needle, but it was difficult considering the sheet drooped in the front when she leaned forward to watch him closely.
"I'm trying to learn," she explained when he stopped what he was doing. "Carry on."
He couldn't very well tell her that he couldn't continue with her looking so cute, so he shut up and concentrated instead on knotting the thread and pulling it through the fabric of her still-warm tunic. It smelled like her. And that reminded him that when he went to sleep, his sheet would probably smell like her, too.
He liked the thought more than he cared to admit.
It didn't take long for him to finish, but he took his time, mostly to make certain that his stitches were small and even, and that the fabric wouldn't tear again the very next time Lucina stretched her arms over her head.
"I think this tunic is getting a bit too small," she said when he'd handed it back to her and turned his back so that she could pull it back on. "It's too tight."
He heard her getting to her feet and turned to look at her. "I suppose you may have grown taller." It was possible. She had eaten much better since being reunited with her past-parents.
"That's not what I meant."
Confused, Gerome tilted his head to the side. "I don't understand."
She looked down and blushed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, if you have failed to notice, then I must be mistaken."
It took him a moment to understand, and when he did, his own face turned red. Was he supposed to notice something like that? He didn't think that he was. "I try to keep my eyes on your face." He was proud of himself for not sounding like too much like an idiot.
"Oh." She sounded almost disappointed. Why? That didn't make any sense.
"I'm not Inigo," he told her, sounding harsher than he meant to. "I would never do something so disrespectful."
"I suppose you're right," she said with a sigh. "It's a little embarrassing, sometimes, being so…flat."
Gerome wondered how he had gotten into this conversation in the first place. "Is it somehow detrimental?" he asked, hating that he was actually curious to know the answer.
Lucina was quiet for a long moment. "I am…actually not certain."
"I'm sure it's fine," he said, but he wanted desperately to change the subject. He was glad that Lucina trusted him enough to speak of such intimate things with him, but he really wasn't sure what it was he was supposed to say about it. He didn't understand why she might be embarrassed at being less busty than other women, especially if it didn't actually matter.
"Severa said—"
"Ignore Severa. Ask someone a little less full of themselves."
"I could ask Cherche. She would know."
Of course Lucina would think to ask his not-mother for advice on the size of her breasts. Wasn't he lucky? It was still probably a better idea than her asking Kjelle or Noire or Cynthia. Cynthia probably named hers. At least Cherche would be sane and kind. "That's a good idea."
"If they have gotten, you know, uhm…bigger, I'll probably need a new tunic."
"And?"
She stared at him, blinked twice, and smiled. "I was hoping you might consent to making me a new one."
He would need her measurements for that. "I'm not so skilled," he told her; it wasn't a complete lie. "You should ask Cherche to help you with that."
She would be delighted. Cherche loved to sew things for other people.
"Okay."
Gerome felt a little guilty for his brusque response, so he sighed and said, trying to sound nonchalant, "Whenever you need any mending done, though… I'll do that for you."
The next thing he knew, Lucina was sitting across from him, tugging off her boot and putting her foot in his lap. "Thank you, Gerome," she said with an amused look on her face.
He looked down to see her big toe peeking through a hole in her sock.