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The words were swimming on the page.
Robin put his head in his hands, massaging his temples as he tried to parse what this stupid tactics book was saying. He had to finish this plan, he had to, the battle was only a few days away at best and he still only had something half-formulated. He knew the others all saw him as a genius, all thought he was capable of pulling off miracles, and so he couldn’t let them down. Which meant he had to finish these plans, meant he had to understand this ancient Feroxi battle formation lest he fail his soldiers, fail his friends.
Fail Chrom.
Chrom couldn’t handle another loss. Not so soon after Emmeryn. That just meant that Robin’s job was harder, meant that he had even less room for error than he ever had. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, willed himself not to cry and willed the candle not to burn out before he was finished. He needed sleep, he knew that, but he promised himself that he would at least finish his preliminary draft of this battle plan before he went to bed. He could fix any stupid errors after he slept, but he needed to be in the editing phase, regardless of what other things had come up throughout the day that had distracted him. He had to.
A sob ripped its way from his throat before he could swallow it back. He shook his head. No, no, no. He doesn’t have time for tears. The war was almost won; he had to get this formation down.
But then there was a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened, had half a mind to tell whoever it was to go away. But then he heard something get placed on his desk, and he looked up to see Chrom looking at him with something so painfully soft in his gaze.
“I brought you some food,” Chrom murmured. He squeezed his shoulder as he did, and Robin resisted the urge to simply throw himself into Chrom’s arms. Gods knew it was the most pleasant place to be.
“Thank you,” Robin said instead, trying to offer Chrom a smile. He could feel tears still brimming in his eyes, but then Chrom reached up and gently wiped them away.
“Eat,” Chrom instructed gently. Robin nodded, picking the spoon up out of the bowl that Chrom had brought. He brought it to his lips; rabbit stew, if he had to guess. Chrom moved behind him, massaging his shoulders and gently pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
They didn’t speak beyond that. They didn’t need to. Chrom was still grieving, and Robin’s exhaustion was still pulling at him as he stared at the map that was spread out on his desk, at the book that was open to the same page he had been trying to read for gods knew how long. He focused on his food instead of the book, for now; hopefully his blood sugar coming up would help his focus. When had he last eaten, exactly?
He finished the stew and put the bowl down before going back to the book, leaning forward and trying to start from the top of the page. But then Chrom wrapped his arms around Robin’s shoulders, placed his chin on top of Robin’s head, and Robin couldn’t resist the warmth that Chrom always radiated.
“Come to bed,” Chrom murmured.
“I need to finish this plan,” Robin protested. It sounded weak even to his own ears.
“There are still a few more days,” Chrom murmured. “I’d rather a plan that was made by someone of sound mind that takes another few hours than something pieced together hastily under tired eyes.”
Robin chuckled. “When did you get so poetic?”
“Virion’s been giving me lessons,” Chrom said, and though Robin couldn’t see his face, he could envision Chrom’s crooked smile perfectly. Robin closed his eyes, relaxing in Chrom’s grasp. “Sleep, Robin. The world can wait for your genius.”
“Can we? Can we really?” Robin wasn’t certain if he had wanted Chrom to hear it, but Chrom tightened his grip on him regardless.
“We can,” Chrom assured him. “I’d rather a tactician that can think on his feet when the time calls for it. And I’d rather a lover who takes care of himself.”
Robin hummed. His eyes were still closed, but he tilted his head and gently kissed the underside of Chrom’s jaw. He felt the tendons in his neck move and knew that Chrom was smiling, and then another kiss was being pressed to his head, gentle and loving and reassuring in a way that Robin hadn’t realized he needed.
“Alright,” Robin said eventually. He went to stand, but Chrom was faster; suddenly, he was being carried bridal-style, laughing as he held tight to Chrom’s neck. Chrom was smiling, far too satisfied with himself, but Robin couldn’t find it in him to be upset. Instead, he leaned up and pressed a kiss to Chrom’s cheek.
Chrom carried him out of the tactics tent, bringing him to Chrom’s tent and dumping him on the cot that was really only designed to hold one person but they shared almost nightly anyway. Robin smiled, turning to face Chrom as he climbed in beside him, cupping Chrom’s cheeks and pressing their foreheads together. He pressed a chaste kiss to Chrom’s lips, and Chrom brought one hand behind Robin’s head as he kissed back. It was simple and sweet, both of them tired, but it was all that Robin could ever hope for.
He closed his eyes, maneuvering himself so his head was beneath Chrom’s chin and he could hold Chrom close to him like that. Chrom chuckled, the sound surrounding Robin in a way that only brought him more comfort, and he pressed yet another kiss to the top of Robin’s head.
“I love you,” Chrom whispered. Robin smiled, tightened his grip around Chrom’s middle.
“I love you, too,” Robin murmured. He closed his eyes, snuggling closer to Chrom.
Sleep wasn’t so bad, really. Especially when he got to do it with Chrom.