Work Text:
Chrom sleeps in bursts, spread throughout the day, oftentimes leading him to rise in the odd hours of the morning.
Robin sleeps when given no option other than to rise from his desk and stumble to bed, eyes accustomed to candlelight squinting at the sun.
They brush shoulders as they pass by each other.
“Mm, morning Chrom.” Robin murmurs.
“Goodnight, Robin.” Chrom retorts.
His tactician grumbles, caught, and Chrom can't help but smile. Happy, Chrom places an arm around Robin and turns his course to guide him to their bed. He can wait a little longer to start his morning.