Armor

"It makes me look fat, doesn't it Chrom?" Robin circled around, looking over herself.

"Not at all," he replied looking from his seat on the ground, his arms behind his head. "I think you look great."

"Really?" she asked.

"The craftsmanship is excellent," he said. "And besides, you wouldn't choose looks over practicality would you?"

"Of course not," she said.

"And as a plus, we get to see more of you with the armor than the robes you always wear," he smirked at her. She gasped and threw her breast plate at him.

"Damn practicality! I'm sticking with my robes. Pervert Chrom."

"I am not a pervert!" he yelled at her.

"Pervert!" she said. "Walking in on me all the time! Flashing yourself! I am wearing the most clunky armor I can find…"

"Robin, I see you naked at least five times a week," he said airily, standing up and handing her back the metallic attire. "What good is hiding yourself on the battlefield?"

"Oh so you'd rather I parade around in my birthday suit?" she challenged. "Very well, it could give the enemies a good distraction. I'll just wear a revealing set of armor, and we'll win every battle."

He quickly wrapped his arms around her waist. "Let's stick with the robes."

"Pervert."

"This isn't as delicate as I'd hoped," Maribelle pouted. "Not very ladylike is it?"

"My love," Libra said with a light laugh. "You are preparing for battle, not a tea party."

"But that doesn't mean I have to be like a low-born," she insisted.

Libra smiled at her and held her hand. "You are so ladylike, that anything placed upon your body becomes graced with feminine charm."

"But what if I was not wearing anything?" she asked worriedly.

Libra sighed and averted his face to hide his blush. "My lady. That is a sight that one is truly blessed to see. Now just please promise to wear your armor."

She smiled at him and pecked his cheek. "Only you appreciate me darling."

"Lon'qu," Lissa whined, drawing out the last vowel in his name. "How do I put this on?"

"You're asking me?" he said, absentmindedly watching a beetle run up his arm.

She looked at him in annoyance. "Ew, get that thing away, it's disgusting."

"It's not a thing," he said. "It's a creature that the gods created."

"Still, get it away!"

"Says the girl who goes around collecting frogs to slip down Robin's clothes?" he snorted.

"That's different!" she protested. She made a mental note to put one down his trousers.

"Don't you dare," he said, as if reading her thoughts.

"Wha—" she jumped.

"I know you very well," he said. "And tell me, how do you manage to wear that dress every day, yet not know how to put on a piece of armor."

"It's different!" she said. "I've had all these fancy people teach me!"

"Fine," he sighed. "Come over here." She obliged happily and skipped over to her husband. "Princess," he added in an undertone.

That's it. He was definitely going to have a cold, slimy, frog down his—

"Don't you dare."

"How do you manage to walk around in this?" Gaius complained. He was now training in the ways of the Trickster, and he was none too happy with his change in attire. "Or fly around and battle on a Pegasus?"

"Practice makes perfect love," Sumia said, picking apart yet another flower. "You'll get the hang of it."

He grumbled. "This will reduce my honey collecting time."

"Don't worry," she said, walking up to him, and adjusting his cape. "I'm here to help."

"You'll help me put it on?"

"Of course," she replied.

"And take it off?"

"Yes."

"And also take my clothes off?"

"Ye—Gaius!" she swatted his armored chest, drawing her hand away in pain as he smirked at her.

"Come on," Stahl said to his wife. "Try it."

"I'll hex you if you make me," Tharja hissed at him.

And no further attempts were made.

"Will this make me look taller?" Ricken asked Nowi.

"I don't know," she frowned. "Will you even fit in it?"

"I can try," he said determinedly

…

"Ricken?" Nowi called. "Where are you?"

"Help!" she could hear a voice say faintly.

"Where are you?" she scanned around before gasping. She discovered that the source of the cry was a metallic heap on the ground.

She helped him up quickly and rescued the poor fellow.

"I don't know how to say this," she said. "But you're too short for the armor."
"That was their smallest size," he wailed.

"It's okay," she hugged him. "You're the perfect size!"

"But you can turn into a big dragon!"

She gave him a look. "Not all the time. I'm still a human. Besides, you don't need anything. I'll be your armor!"

"Aww, Nowi!"

"Take this one," Laurent said, finding a rather obscure piece of armor. "And this one as well."

"But," Noire said, as he handed her each piece. "Where does it even go? My "

"Ah," he said, "allow me to explain. That one is for the knuckle of your pinky." He started rambling on about all the different types and functions of armor that he was piling up on her until she broke.

"YOU IMBECILE!" she roared. "YOU DARE CONSIDER ME A WEAKLING?"
"Oh my," Laurent was enthralled by her rage.

"I HAVE NO NEED FOR SUCH THINGS! AWAY FROM ME, BEFORE YOU TASTE MY WRATH!"

"But I just want you safe," Laurent said. This broke Noire out of her trance.

"I'm sorry!" she squeaked, hiding her face in her hands. "I did it again!"

"Don't be sorry!" he said. "It sent my heart racing most exquisitely!"

She peeked at him through her fingers. "So this is for…my pinky, you said?"

He relented. "Perhaps, I went a bit overboard…"

She looked at him sheepishly. "It makes me happy that you care though."

He smiled at her. "FOOLISH HUMAN! HOW DARE YOU CAUSE THESE EMOTIONS!"

"Yes Noire! Let it all out!" he watched her fondly as she threw various forms of insults and death threats at him.

"ROBIN!" Inigo roared furiously, which was rather unusual for him, and he was stomping his way through camp. Robin had been discussing strategies with Gerome, who had taken a liking to her. She saw Inigo marching towards them, and she whispered the reason to Gerome, who let out a rare burst of laughter. "You!" he said, his voice dripping with betrayal. "You evil woman!"

Robin had been biting the insides of her cheeks to restrain herself from laughing but she doubled over in laughter. Gerome peered around to get a look and chuckled once more, his laughter increasing. The armor that Robin had put Inigo in had made the cheeks of his bottom very, very, apparent. It could be very well spotted from over a mile. "Oh sure!" he said sounding scandalized. "Laugh all you want! Have your merry little party over here. It's so hilarious right?"

Robin looked up at him and giggled, clutching her aching stomach.

"I can't believe you would do this to me!" he said, pouting like a child.

"I—I'm sorry!" she said in between fits.

"No you're not!" he argued.

"Ok, fine not really," she gasped, wiping away a few tears. "But you deserved it!"

"All the girls were laughing at me!" he cried. "All of them!"

"As were the men," she said. "And that was the point."

"Such a cruel trick you've played upon me, an innocent—"
"We got sick of your flirting," Robin said. "All of us."

He jutted out his lower lip again, looking down with an embarrassed expression. "Just…help me out of this will you?" he asked.

"Do it yourself, you're not a child," she said.

"Please," he said. She rolled her eyes, and unclasped the hooks of his armor adroitly, and pulled it down. "Not here!" he blushed. "W-what are you?" Robin had her hand to her mouth, as did Gerome. It had appeared that she had also pulled down his trousers, revealing his smallclothes to the camp.

"ROBIN!"

"Donnel?" Cordelia asked one day, as she was helping him gather firewood.
"Yeah?"
"Why do you wear that pot on your head?"

Silence.

"For protection," he said.

"But surely there's something else you can wear," she said. "We have plenty of armor to spare."
"Nah," he said. "This is what makes me comfortable."

"A pot…all the time?" she asked doubtfully. "That doesn't sound too pleasant."

"It's fine, really," he said nervously. "I have enough wood, I'll be giving this to Frederick," he quickly scattered, leaving behind a very confused Pegasus knight.

"I have to get to the bottom of this," she frowned, looking at his retreating back.

"Psst," she heard a whisper. She turned around and jumped.

"Stahl," she scolded. "Do not sneak up upon me like that!"

"Sorry," he said. "But I happened to overhear your conversation."

"So, you know why he chooses to—"

"Yes," he nodded. "When you're alone, all you have to do is get it off of his head."

"And that will explain everything?" she asked.

"Yes. Good luck, Cordelia."

…

"AIEEEEEE!" Donnel clutched his head so fearfully that momentarily Cordelia had wondered whether or not she took off a part of his head.

"What!" she yelled. "Why are you shouting!"

"My hair!" he screamed. "Don't look at it!"

"Is that all?" she said, highly irritated. "Just let me fix it will you?"
"Nah, it's all right," he said reaching for his helmet. "Just give it back, will you?"

"No," she said, putting it out of reach. "Bring some water and a comb, and I'll fix you up. Now." She crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly. He grumbled, but obliged to her request.

…

"Wow," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "You're a miracle worker."

She smiled. "I told you I can fix it."

"Thanks Cordelia," he grinned. "But can I still have ma helmet back? I've gotten too used to it."

She shook her head in exasperation, before yielding and tossing him back his cooking utensil rather forcefully.

Comment for F/M ships, or any friendships. Prompts are also welcomed! I hope you've enjoyed it!