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The hug should have been his first clue that something is up with James. Not that Qrow is complaining; he’ll never forget the feeling of James’ arms holding him close, the warmth of a solid body against his own, the bulging muscles—Qrow stops his train of thought there, clearing his throat. No, definitely not complaining.
But Qrow has never known James to be a touchy guy. He’s always been too formal, too... distant. And yet he’d bared himself for Qrow to see, gentle voice and soft eyes as he’d pulled his old friend into a hug. A year and a half gone by but still a bond, still something familiar. But different. Qrow can’t remember the last time he hugged someone who isn’t related to him; maybe Tai, before he’d left to follow Ruby and the kids, so long ago. But he doesn’t count.
Qrow frowns, turning his Scroll over and over in his hands as he stands in the doorway to his Atlas room. Well, it was just a hug.
It was not just a hug.
It’s subtle, but Qrow’s senses are heightened, and something is definitely going on with James.
He starts noticing it mid-meeting, when James is passing by him again to point to something on the screen and brushes a hand along his shoulder for the third time. Qrow pauses, skin tingling where he’d felt the gloved hand make contact, slowly bringing his eyes up to focus on James.
The general isn’t making eye contact, instead discussing the mission with Clover, hands now stiffly held behind his back. Qrow definitely hadn’t imagined it; James had been pacing, and every time he passed Qrow, he’d certainly felt a touch to his shoulder. But James never addresses him directly, only lays out his expectations for the group’s excursion for the day.
Curious.
The next time is more direct, and Qrow’s confusion only grows.
They all regroup in front of the airship to return to Atlas, Clover throwing finger guns at Qrow before jogging away to snag a seat next to Marrow for the ride back. Qrow smirks, making to join him, when he’s stopped by a touch to his wrist.
James is beside him, a small smile on his face, and when Qrow turns to fully face him, the touch turns to fingers lightly closing around his wrist. James’ hand is warm despite it being the metal one, Qrow notices, and wonders at the inner workings of the prosthetics. Were they self-heating? He’ll have to ask James sometime.
“Qrow,” James says, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You did well today. I’m pleased you and Clover seem to be getting along.” He rubs lightly at his beard, the smile almost hard to see behind it. It’s a good look on him, Qrow allows himself to think wistfully. “I was… concerned that his semblance might bother you.”
Qrow sucks in a quick breath; he’d wondered if James had done this on purpose. But then, of course. He had to have known, had to have seen Clover’s military application. “I did wonder about that,” Qrow admits quietly, glancing down briefly to where James still holds his wrist. “I… were you worried about it? That I would be a problem.” His question comes out more as a statement, and he fails at trying to keep the guilt out of his voice. Qrow startles when the grip on his wrist tightens ever so slightly and pulls him forward, closer to James.
“God, Qrow, of course not,” James says quickly, fiercely, making sure Qrow is meeting his gaze. And god, if those blue eyes weren’t sincere, intense, and fucking beautiful. “I had hoped you might balance each other out, and learn how to control them, make them work together.” Qrow nods, trying to feel relieved, but years of self-hatred leave a bad taste in his mouth nonetheless.
“Guess I need to stop sabotaging myself sometime, huh, Jim,” Qrow quips, a twisted smile forming on his face. James frowns and opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off by Ruby calling for them to get on the ship before it leaves without them. James pauses, giving Qrow’s wrist one last squeeze before he releases it and takes the lead.
Qrow avoids looking at him on the way back to Atlas, the memory of his touch a ghost on his skin.
When James insists that a ball is the perfect way to welcome Robyn to the council and show her she’s welcome, Qrow has to resist rolling his eyes. He’s only had one encounter with the new councilwoman, but she doesn’t seem like the dancing type. He says as much to James when they get a moment alone in his office, watching the last of the kids trail away down the hall.
“It’s a good opportunity to network,” James replies absently, finally looking up from his Scroll to level Qrow with something unidentifiable in his eyes. “She wants to discuss the state of Mantle. I’m open to doing so,” He smirks. “It just may be easier over a bottle of wine.”
Qrow says nothing, uncomfortable; James doesn’t know, it’s not his fault. He must look visibly upset, however, since James immediately frowns.
“Qrow?” He says softly. Qrow sighs, kicking at the ground, head down. Feels the guilt creep in, rearing its ugly head. This isn’t something he should be bothering James with.
“I stopped drinking. It’s a recent thing and it’s… harder than I thought it would be.” He thinks about the flask sitting in a drawer in his room, abandoned; he’s past the withdrawal symptoms, but wonders if the cravings will ever stop. Lost in thought, he almost misses James’ sharp exhalation, and his chair skidding as he pushes back from his desk.
Qrow looks up when James stops in front of him, brow furrowed and hand raised. They both stare at each other for a moment before James finally places his hand on Qrow’s shoulder, grip firm and sure.
“Qrow, that’s incredible,” He says seriously. Qrow shrugs, careful not to shake his hand off. He feels it squeeze. “I’m serious. I’m… very happy for you.” James’ eyes are soft, too soft, and it makes Qrow’s heart positively ache. This is too much. He’s been trying to avoid being alone with James for exactly this reason; he couldn’t deal with his feelings back at Beacon, and it’s worse now, being sober. There’s no buffer. No distractions.
“I have to go,” He mumbles, avoiding James’ eyes as he backs away. “I’ll see you at the ball.”
He doesn’t run out of the office, but it’s a close call.
Back in his room, Qrow slumps in on himself on top of the bed, trying to breathe evenly. His shoulder feels like it’s on fire where James was touching him, and the urge to open the drawer and search for his flask almost wins out over his desire to do something right, for once, and stay clean. For the kids. For himself.
He throws an arm over his eyes and just breathes.
By the time the car drops Qrow off at the ball, it’s already in full swing. It’s exactly what he was hoping for; Qrow slips in unnoticed, side-stepping a server with a tray full of wine glasses, and makes his way to a corner to sulk. He knows it’s important for him to make an appearance (everyone working on the Amity project needs to show Robyn they’re trying to work with her, not against her), but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.
He lets his gaze wander, looking first to make sure his nieces are doing okay. He spots Yang first, sticking out in a long, golden dress and towering above several other attendees, smiling down at Blake and brushing her bangs out of her face. Qrow smiles when he sees Blake blush. He spots Ruby at the snack table with Oscar and Jaune; Weiss chatting with Winter, stoic as ever; and Nora and Ren engaged in conversation with Elm, Vine, and Harriet, Nora inching closer to Elm with a gleam in her eye.
Satisfied, Qrow heads for the snack table himself, narrowly avoiding Marrow and Clover when they dance into his path—at least, that’s what he thinks they’re doing. He’s no dancing pro. Clover smiles apologetically as Marrow whisks them away again, and Qrow finally spots James out of the corner of his eye. The general is in an animated discussion with Robyn and one of her Happy Huntresses; it’s the sheep faunus, but Qrow strongly suspects the rest are here as well. He sighs, hoping there will be no trouble tonight. He’s too tired for a fight.
He focuses his gaze back on James. He looks good—fuck, he looks incredible, his usual military getup swapped for a sleek, white tux and a dark blue tie, but his white gloves remain. Qrow swallows and shakes his head, making to turn around when shit, James looks up and catches his eye. Qrow freezes as the general’s face positively lights up, and he says something to Robyn before heading directly for Qrow. So much for keeping a low profile.
“Qrow!” James smiles widely when he reaches him, surprising Qrow by placing a hand low on his back and nudging him gently to get him to start walking. Qrow tries to ignore his touch, but has a feeling the flush creeping up his neck will give him away any second. James finally pulls away when they reach the side of the room, and instead reaches for his neck. Qrow freezes.
“What… are you doing,” He stutters. James’ hands pause, and he quirks an eyebrow, the metal above moving with it.
“Your tie. It’s crooked.”
Qrow looks down. Huh. So it is. He looks back up at James and jerks his head, hoping that conveys his message. James smirks and reaches forward again. Qrow sucks in a breath when James’ hands make contact; they rest against his neck and chest as the taller man works the tie loose, making quick work of correcting Qrow’s attempt at a Windsor knot.
He feels too warm, too vulnerable, and lets out an audibly shaky breath when James finally steps back, satisfied.
James tilts his head. “Are you doing all right? I know this isn’t your ideal way to spend a Friday night.” Qrow snorts. Since giving up alcohol, he no longer has an idea way to spend a Friday night. Except maybe wallowing in regret. But James doesn’t need to know that.
“I’m fine,” He finally says, shrugging. “Having a good talk with Robyn? I don’t want to keep you, Jimmy.”
James frowns, but doesn’t mention the nickname. That’s new. He looks back at Robyn for a second before turning back to Qrow, and there’s that look in his eyes again that Qrow just can’t place. “Come with me,” He says finally, extending a hand. Qrow stares. And stares. And stares more until James clicks his tongue. “Qrow.”
“All right, all right,” Qrow mumbles, grabbing the hand and letting James lead. He briefly wonders if he’s in for some sort of lecture about being late, or underdressed, making the general look bad, but James hadn’t seemed upset. He’s probably used to Qrow disappointing by now.
They end up out on the balcony; Qrow moves to lean on it, but James hasn’t let go of his hand. Instead, he moves their fingers until they’re laced together, and tugs Qrow closer.
“Are we gonna hug again?” Qrow jokes, but he can’t seem to catch his breath. James smiles crookedly, quiet for a moment before he finally speaks again.
“Qrow, I’m… I’m glad you’re here,” He murmurs. Qrow can feel himself blushing again, dammit, and tries to take his hand back so he can turn away. James hold is steadfast, and it’s his metal one, Qrow notices belatedly, annoyed. No fair. James squeezes. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, after… well.”
Qrow just nods, finding himself unable to open his mouth to say anything back. He’s afraid of what will come out. He nearly chokes when he feels James’ other hand come up to touch his cheek, trail his fingers along the stubble on his jaw. James is watching him carefully, so carefully, like he’s afraid Qrow might break.
“Qrow,” James whispers, and Qrow thinks he just might break, too. He forces himself to finally tug himself out of James’ grasp, simultaneously missing the warmth of his hands and relieved to be out from under his scrutiny.
“What’s going on, James,” Qrow doesn’t bother concealing how tired he feels. When James only crinkles his nose in return, Qrow continues. “You’ve… It’s been different since we got to Atlas.” He gestures between them meaningfully, hoping James knows what he’s trying to say. “I just… I’m feeling… confused.”
A deafening, extended silence. “Oh.” James blinks, and his face is stoic again in an instant. His hands move behind his back, and he stands up straighter. He’s assuming his indifferent military pose, Qrow realizes sadly, and regrets saying anything. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.” And he’s using his professional voice. Shit.
“Jimmy,” Qrow sighs, but James is already gone.
Qrow half-heartedly looks around for James, no idea what he’s going to say but knowing he has to say something, but James is gone, and Qrow can’t stay. There’s too much temptation. Too many ways he could sabotage himself tonight.
He lingers at the door of James’ office when he gets back to the school. The door is closed, but Qrow doesn’t see any light coming through, and it’s eerily quiet, no guards in sight. James must have been out of sight at the party or returned and gone straight to his quarters. Either way, Qrow is out of luck for now.
So when he opens the door to his own room only to see James Ironwood sat on his bed, Qrow feels more than a little surprised. Shocked, maybe? Definitely a little scared, but not because he’s afraid of the general. No; Qrow’s biggest fear has always been himself. Things can only go wrong here.
James looks up at him quickly when he hears the door open and watches as Qrow pauses, gingerly closing it behind himself. Qrow stands awkwardly for a moment in silence before he throws his hands up and goes to sit beside James.
“Hey,” He says, trying and failing to sound casual, reaching up to undo his tie. Remembers the feeling of James’ hands on him earlier as he worked to tie it. Tries not to shudder. “Shouldn’t you be at the party? Surely they’re missing your charm.”
“There is something going on,” James says without preamble, and Qrow has never heard him sound so rushed. So nervous.
“Yeah?” Qrow tosses his tie on the bedside table (he has to smirk when he sees James’ eyes narrow at that), leaning back on his hands. He stretches his long legs out in front of him, tapping the tips of his shoes together. He shouldn’t be surprised when he feels one of James’ hands come down to land on top of his, not anymore.
“When I said it was good to see you again,” James starts carefully. “I meant, ‘I never thought I’d see you again. I can’t believe you’re here.’” He clears his throat, his words sounding thick, like he’s trying not to cry. Qrow’s eyes widen and he flips his hand, palm up, lacing their fingers together. He almost smiles when he sees James’ blink of surprise.
“Well, I’m here, Jim.”
James turns towards him and, for the second time that night, brings a hand up to the side of his face. This time it goes further, cupping the back of Qrow’s neck. Qrow realizes with a start there’s no glove, the cool touch of metal fingers soothing his burning skin. It’s too intimate. He feels himself start to panic again, but James holds him tightly, tilting his head up to meet his gaze.
“Sometimes I… I forget. I wake up, and I’m terrified, Qrow.” James whispers, eyes darting down to his lips for just a second. It’s long enough; Qrow’s heart starts beating faster. “Sometimes I just need to make sure... you’re real.”
“I’m real,” Qrow whispers back. He feels lightheaded, hot. Their closeness is too much; James is too much, and Qrow is not enough. He knows he can’t have this. He feels his throat start to itch and eyelashes flutter, wet.
“Qrow,” James murmurs, before finally, finally leaning down to close the distance between them. Qrow sighs, or sobs, he can’t tell which, but there are tears on his cheeks as James kisses him, slow and reverent, and he lets himself feel this, just for a moment. When he tries to pull away he’s surprised by James’ annoyed huff against his mouth, the hand in his tightening as if to say, don’t you dare.
“James,” Qrow mumbles against James’ mouth, sighing when James just kisses him again, and again, and again.
“You’re not doing this,” James says finally, pulling away, a serious look on his face. He searches Qrow’s face with blue, blue eyes, a pleading look swirling within them. Qrow makes a non-committal noise and shrugs, but James tightens his hand, shaking his head. “You’re not a burden, Qrow,” He continues, fiercely, moving his lips to Qrow’s forehead. Qrow inhales sharply, instinct telling him to run, run now, this can only end badly, but his heart pleads him to stay. James kisses his forehead, his cheeks, before finally returning to his lips, something chaste, innocent. He looks Qrow in the eye. “You deserve to be happy.”
I don’t, Qrow thinks as James moves them into a tight embrace, arms around Qrow’s waist and legs tangling on the bed. I’m bad luck, he thinks as his shirt is unbuttoned with ever-gentle hands, as he’s stripped bare, body and soul.
I don’t deserve you, Qrow thinks, but lets James kiss him anyway, and hopes.