Chapter Text
xii.
“I have a feeling the next few months are going to change us. I don’t want you to be a stranger when I see you again.”
Their unspoken agreement, made long ago, rang loud and clear in his mind. He nodded, setting another dish on the drying rack. The inside of his skull throbbed, but he’d taken a round of painkillers with dinner, so that would kick in soon. “The next time I see you, I promise not to shoot first.”
Winter snorted. “I’m happy we’re working this out now, rather than letting it fester down the line,” she said. “There’s a war coming, after all.” Though she kept her tone light, Qrow could hear the raw fear cutting through.
Helplessness gnawed at the inside of his chest. “I know. I’m scared out of my mind.” He put the last dish on the rack. It was such a mundane action compared to the world outside. Drying his hands off, he stepped closer to Winter, tucking her to his chest and letting her press into him.
“I’m scared too,” she whispered. “I don’t know what Father will do about the embargo. He’s becoming more and more unpredictable, and the General is being forced to make difficult decisions every day because of it. I fear we may be severely divided before the war even shows up on our doorstep.”
“No.” Qrow shook his head. “Don’t even think about that right now.” He pulled away slightly. “You know what? Let’s not think about the war at all. Let’s not think about the embargo, let’s not think about your jackass of a father, and let’s not think about the decisions we’re all going to have to make very soon.”
He left her in the kitchen for a moment and went into the sitting area. One of her cabinets held a record player, a good quality, perfectly functional antique. Qrow had seen it months ago when he’d last flown in.
“Qrow,” said Winter from the kitchen. “It’s in the other cabinet.”
“This one– Oh, here it is.” Holding the player carefully, Qrow pulled it out, and smacked his head on the cabinet as he got up. “Ow.”
She snorted as she laughed, nose wrinkling, eyes shut, her crooked grin making him fall in love all over again. “Don’t drop it, please.”
“No sympathy for my head, I see,” he said, pulling it out of its cabinet and setting it on the table.
“Your head could use some work.”
“Fuck off.” He tugged Winter’s ponytail lightly as she came over. She swatted his hand away. “Now, where do you keep your records?”
“I don’t own any.”
Qrow frowned. “But you have a record player.”
“It was–” Winter swallowed. “I bought it for Weiss. I never got to give it to her.”
Oh.
“I see,” Qrow said softly. He took her in his arms and let her rest her hands around his neck. “Well, I can serenade you.”
Smirking, Winter wound her fingers into his hair. “Oh, you can, can you?”
“I’ll have you know I happen to have great vocal chords.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“It’s true!”
“Alright, Qrow.” She kissed him. “Serenade me.”
Qrow grinned. “If I do, will you teach me that dance?”
“The Laendler?” Winter drew back, giving him a questioning look. “You remember?”
He pulled her in and kissed her forehead. “I remember every little thing you’ve said to me,” he said with palpable sincerity. And he put on a teasing grin, just to lighten the mood a little more.
“Really,” she said, disbelieving.
Qrow slipped his arm down to her waist and held her other hand aloft, letting her place her free hand on his shoulder. “Come on, it’s been, like, three years.”
“We hated each other three years ago,” she reminded him. “I never would have offered to teach you that dance.”
“Right, it was just last year, right?”
She slid her arm a little further around his neck. “Yes. Last year’s Solstice Ball.”
“Mm, I cracked you by then.” He swayed, pulling her with him, snickering. “The uncrackable Ice Queen.” She pinched his cheek. “Ow. Alright, you’re not crackable and I didn’t crack you.”
“Stop saying crack. And your footing is wrong.” Winter nudged his toe with hers. “Step this way.” He stepped. “And again.”
They danced, round and round, swaying in and out of each other’s arms. Qrow hummed his best rendition of the music that would usually go with the dance, making Winter smile that soft smile of hers that shot right through his heart.
In fits and starts, her voice joined his, guiding him through the parts he couldn’t remember well, over the pitches he couldn’t reach. She wasn’t a terrible vocalist, but Qrow still teased her to death. Weiss, it seemed, got all the vocal talent. Still, Qrow wanted nothing less than to listen to Winter’s off-key, off-beat singing in the late hours.
xiii.
Qrow left well before sunrise the next day. In all honesty, Winter hadn’t expected him to stay much longer. He never stayed too long. But then again, neither did she, so it only seemed fair.
Before he left, he’d woken her with a quiet murmur of her name and a rough palm sliding across her stomach. She’d responded with her hands in his hair and a silent plea for him to stay. Slow and unhurried, they took each other apart and put each other back together again, fingers and mouths tracing the jagged edges of their beginning, following the soft curves of their future.
Light had barely begun to grace the sky by the time they finished. Winter never felt more weighed down by her responsibilities than she did in the moments before Qrow left, every single time.
Silence blanketed their morning-after routine, heavy and comfortable. Knees pulled up to her chest, she watched him dress himself, pulling on his slacks first, buttoning up his shirt, pinning his ridiculous cape over his shoulders. He took Harbinger from where it rested next to Edelweiss and slid it neatly into its holster beneath his cape before stepping out of the bedroom. Winter got out of bed to follow him.
Qrow paused before her balcony door, turning to face her one last time. Some emotion she couldn’t identify danced in his eyes. “Win,” he said. “If I don’t make it back–”
“Don’t,” she found herself saying. She’d never said that before. “Don’t you dare say a word. I will drag you out of hell myself if I must.”
He exhaled, smiling softly. “That’ll be the day hell freezes over.”
Winter scoffed. “Just come back safe,” she said quietly.
“Don’t I always? Now c’mere.” He beckoned her over with one finger. Rolling her eyes, she went straight into his open arms, letting him fold her into a tight hug. “One for the road,” he murmured into her ear.
“You’re a fool,” she whispered, and kissed him.
“I know,” he whispered back against her mouth. “I know.”
Qrow closed the door behind him when he left, and when Winter opened it to check that he’d actually left, he was nowhere to be found.
In the distance, a large crow cawed and sped off to the south.