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Anytime it happened, Qrow was always a bit shocked when it fell to him to be the voice of reason and the force of calm.
They’d finished off training early that day, and the girls had just been jittery ever since. He understood why. Tonight was a big deal. Tonight, they were walking into the lion’s den and it would be make or break for everything they’d fought for since Beacon. His own stomach had been tying itself in knots since Jimmy had told him about the embossed white envelope with the snowflake seal. But he had done his best to swallow those nerves, push them way down, because the kids needed him right now and he had long since vowed never to let them down again.
Ruby had grabbed him after training ceased for the day and asked him if they could talk. So, they did, heading back to the RWBY dorm room while Weiss, Blake and Yang hit the shower block. Turns out his brilliant little niece – so much like her mom – was having doubts about her decision to lie to Ironwood. And then doubts about her doubts, because she made that decision for a reason, right? And she wasn’t just gatekeeping, like Ozpin had? And what if she wasn’t the best person to lead them? What if she was still just a kid who didn’t know anything?
“I think you followed your instincts,” Qrow said, watching her troubled expression from where he sat on the bunk bed. “And that’s an important thing for a leader to do. In the heat of the moment, there isn’t much time to think through what you’re doing, so you need to go with your gut.” He thought back on that meeting last week, in Ironwood’s office. Thought about how, for the first time since they met, he’d been genuinely horrified by James, to hear him referring to Mantle as a few city blocks. People suffering and struggling under the weight of the city in the clouds. A few city blocks. “And I don’t think your gut led you astray,” he sighed, and Ruby searched his face for answers. “James thinks he’s the hero of this story, thinks he needs to do whatever it takes to save the world. People who think like that can be dangerous, Ruby. ‘How far will you go?’ is a question that needs an answer.”
Her lip trembled, her silver eyes more water than steel, and just for a moment he could see the little girl he remembered from Patch, who threw sticks for the dog and mourned the mother she had never known. In an instant, it was gone. Her face hardened, her jaw set, and he was struck by how beautiful she was and how proud of her he felt. The huntress, the warrior, the leader.
Summer, if you could only see her now.
There was more he could have said, more that he wanted to say, but soon realised the time for that was up when the other girls barrelled through the door. Loud voices, stomping feet, a whirlwind of bags and towels and wet hair. Yang and Blake bickering about something dumb, if the bored look on Weiss’ face was anything to go by. “I could kick Sun’s ass in a straight fight, and I would-“ His firecracker.
He got up to take his leave, sending Ruby one last reassuring smile before heading to the door.
“Hey, Uncle Qrow! Wait up!” Yang said, and he turned back around to face his other niece, her hair dripping all over the floor. How long did all that take to dry, anyway? “Could you give me a hand? I kind of, might have misplaced my necklace after that Grimm attack last week-“
Blake tittered, rolling her eyes at her partner. “Misplaced? I recall you throwing it across the room when you were ranting about how you just wanted to go out dancing and Salem is ruining your life-“
“Semantics!” Yang said loudly before Blake could continue. Qrow snorted. “Anyway, I thought you might be able to help? Seeing as it’s, uh, shiny.”
His expression dropped into a glare. “Really, firecracker?” he ground out, and Yang at least looked a little abashed, rubbing the back of her neck. Fine. Whatever. He hadn’t done much shapeshifting recently – he had no idea what Jimmy had let slip – but some of the bonus abilities still filtered through into his human senses. If having a bird’s eye for shiny things could be counted as an ability and not a total embarrassment.
The sooner he found the necklace, the sooner he could leave with his dignity intact. He ducked and scanned under the beds, then under and behind the desk. A quick look around the bathroom. He was just about to tell Yang to find her own damn necklace when a flash caught his eye. Pulling himself up to his full height, he reached up and detangled the glint of silver from the light shade on the ceiling. He tossed the chain to Yang, not bothering to mask the displeased look on his face, and his niece caught it neatly and said an abashed, “Thanks!” before racing off to get changed.
He should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it, though. With four teenage girls rushing around him, hurrying to get changed and style their hair and do their makeup, it was dumb of him to stand there with an obviously free set of hands. He caught Weiss looking at him with a touch of apprehension and he deliberately relaxed the furrow in his brow. Weiss gave him the distinct impression of a person who was never allowed to ask for help. He wouldn’t make her feel like a burden.
Her hair was combed out so that it fanned down her back like a sheet of ice, and she gave him a small, hesitant smile. “Normally I would ask Winter, but – if I start off my braid, could you finish it for me? My arms get tired by the end of it.”
“Of course,” he said, and sat down beside her. He watched her gather her hair, part it, and start intricately twisting the sections together. It must have been thirty years since he’d braided hair – Raven, sadly lacking any sisters of her own, had made him learn how – but the principle was fairly simple. He picked up where Weiss left off, and found he fell into the rhythm quite easily. Once he’d gotten the hang of it, he noticed Weiss’ hands fidgeting in her lap. “You alright there, Weiss?”
She was about to turn and look at him, but then remembered her hair and kept her head still, letting out a little sigh. “I just – I need this to go well,” she said shortly. Her fingers twisted together and then apart. “I need him to – well, to not win, for once.”
It took him a second to realise who Weiss was talking about, as he finished the braid off with a proffered hair band. Gently, he put a hand on Weiss’ shoulder, and she swivelled to meet his eye. He gave her a small smile, and she returned it. “We’ll be there every step of the way, Weiss. No matter what.”
Her eyes were misty, and she reached up and covered his hand on her shoulder with one of her own. Small and surprisingly cold. She deserved a proper father. One who loved her unquestionably and wanted her hopes and dreams for her just as much as she did. “Thanks,” she said.
He smiled and left her to get ready.
It went on like that for a little while. First, Blake needed him to help her with straightening her hair, because she hadn’t yet mastered the art of manoeuvring around her second ears without singeing them painfully.
“You sure you want someone with my semblance anywhere near your ears with a pair of hair straighteners?”
“I trust you.”
That had made him feel a bit warm and fuzzy on the inside, so he set to work before he could think about it anymore.
“Oh, thank the brothers,” an overly dramatic voice came from the doorway just as he finished up Blake’s hair. “Qrow, you gotta help. I don’t know how I did this.”
He turned around and was greeted with the sight of Jaune and Oscar, with dress shirts and pants on. The former looked ready to pass out from the stress, the latter had a bowtie tangled dangerously around his neck and just straight up looked ready to pass out.
Not even hesitating, Qrow barged Jaune out of the way and hurriedly detangled the knot at Oscar’s throat, who let out a gasping sigh of relief. Somewhere, Yang and Ruby were snickering. Rolling his eyes, Qrow did Oscar’s bowtie properly and then turned around to do Jaune’s tie, narrowly refraining from smacking him in the head. “Next time, how about you ask someone before you nearly asphyxiate a kid?”
“That’s what I said,” came Nora’s voice, and when did she get here? With Ren in tow, of course.
“And tuck your shirt in. You look like you’re wearing a costume,” he sniped at Jaune for good measure.
Without even thinking too much about what he was doing, he helped Ruby with the clasp of her bracelet and ruffled her perfectly styled hair, just to be annoying. His younger niece swiped at him, growling “Uncle Qrow,” but he dodged and laughed.
He looked around, at Blake smoothing down Yang’s wild hair, Nora brushing imaginary lint from Ren’s lapel, Oscar tugging Jaune’s suit jacket straight, and it suddenly struck him that he was very underdressed and likely short on time.
“You planning on getting dressed anytime soon, handsome?”
Almost comically, his head whipped around to the door, where Clover was stood, carrying a garment bag. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked, probably a little too sharply, definitely with a tinge of embarrassment.
Clover just smirked, though. “Long enough. Figured you might be too busy helping other people to take care of yourself. Nothing unusual there,” he said, and tossed Qrow the garment bag, which he caught neatly. “We’re leaving in fifteen.”
Qrow gave him a mock salute and locked himself into the bathroom, quickly stripping off his hunting gear and washing his face, underarms and anything else that would betray the fact that he’d neglected to shower after training. The suit was tight, but well fitted, and not for the first time Qrow wondered who in Atlas was ogling him and stealing his clothes to get his measurements so right. Probably Clover.
Going by how good the pants made his ass look, definitely Clover.
He stepped out of the bathroom in the shirt and trousers and resolutely ignored the other huntsman as he gave him an obvious appraisal. The kids had moved out into the hall, thankfully, so it wasn’t too embarrassing.
Clover let out a low whistle. “Lucky me,” he said, more to himself than to Qrow.
Qrow rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him. “Shut up and help me.”
Clover jumped into action, moving forward to tug Qrow’s shirtsleeves straight and whipping a small black box out of his pocket. “I guessed cufflinks aren’t the sort of thing you packed for the road,” he said, as he opened the box. Was that a rising blush in his cheeks? “Figured you could have some of mine.”
Nestled on a bed of crushed black velvet were a pair of shining silver cufflinks, in the shape of four-leaf clovers, and Qrow couldn’t hold back on the grin that split his face. “Clovers?” he asked, a laugh in his voice.
Clover grinned despite himself and took a hold of one of Qrow’s wrists to put them on. “Shut up,” he murmured, but he was smiling. The cufflinks glinted beautifully on Qrow’s slender wrists, and if Clover’s fingers lingered a beat too long on his pulse point, then no one besides them needed to know.
With a bit of haste, because they had to be late by now, Qrow tied his own tie and tugged on the charcoal suit jacket hanging up for him. Once he was suited and booted and ready to go, he finally took a proper look at the younger huntsman. It was probably a mistake, because as soon as he did, all he wanted was for these stupid get ups to be on the floor and for Clover to be in his bed.
Clover looked resplendent in a sharply cut suit, the contrast of the white shirt drawing attention to the broadness of his shoulders and the slimness of his waist. His hair was perfectly coifed, and his trousers flattered strong legs and a perfect ass. Qrow’s eyes were drawn to the deep red bowtie, though, still hung loose about his neck, that brought out the vivid teal of his eyes. The most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.
“Stop checking me out,” Clover said, but his tone of voice said anything but.
Qrow smirked and drew closer. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to tie a bowtie either?” he said, taking both ends of the velvety red tie in his hands. He concentrated on what he was doing, even though he could feel vibrant green eyes burning into him. Slow, deep breaths breezing against his face.
“Must have skipped that day at the academy.”
Qrow balked. “You never skipped a day, don’t lie.”
“That’s true, I didn’t,” Clover said, his hands coming up to linger on Qrow’s wrists as Qrow pulled the knot in the bowtie straight. “But look where it got me.”
“Idiot,” Qrow said. He slid his hands up Clover’s neck, breathing in the heady scent of his aftershave, and stepped in for a kiss. Clover’s thumbs pressed into his wrists and his eyes fluttered shut as they came together. It was sweet and gentle and warm, their lips moving in perfect synchrony, and a contented whimper rose at the back of Qrow’s throat.
One of Clover’s hands slipped from his wrist, to the middle of his back, to his lower back. Straying lower. And Qrow wanted to groan, don’t tempt me. Clover nipped his lip-
“Qrow!” came a sharp call from the hallway, and it could only be Yang, and Qrow broke away with a mournful sigh. Clover laughed, though, and kept looking at him with that dumb, adoring look on his face.
“We can pick that up again later,” the younger huntsman said, a wicked glint in his eyes.
Qrow rolled his eyes half heartedly and took Clover’s hand in his, pulling him towards the door. “Come on. Before Ironwood has a fit.”