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Clover was pulled awake by the sensation of calloused fingers brushing along his cheekbone. He hummed contentedly as he pushed up into Qrow’s hand, which was now trailing gently over the short hair at his temple.
“ ‘morning.” He said, his voice still scratchy and heavy with sleep. He didn’t open his eyes yet, just feeling the soft, comforting, pressure of Qrow’s fingers in his hair.
“Morning. Go back to sleep, I didn’t mean to wake you up, sorry.” And then the gentle warmth had left his face.
Clover whined in playful, but still true, disapproval, finally opening his eyes and reaching out for Qrow’s hand, placing it back against the side of his face.
“ Don’t mind. I’d be a fool to complain about this kind of wake up call. Besides, if anything can get me back to sleep now, it’s you playing with my hair.”
Qrow chuckled and Clover just stared at him, his chest filling with the warmth that Qrow’s laugh always managed to run through him.
“What’re you doing up so early, anyway? Thought you’d sleep in a bit after getting in so late last night.” He asked, moving his arm to wrap around Qrow’s waist and pull him closer, so that his head rested on Clover’s shoulder.
“I.... couldn’t sleep.”
Clover looked down at him slightly worried. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Qrow just shook his head, threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of Clover’s neck.
“It wasn’t that bad. Nothing you could’ve done anyway… Just… I don’t know.” He sighed and smiled into Clover’s collarbone.
“Just watching you for a little while was enough.”
Clover grinned and pressed his cheek to the top of Qrow’s head.
“You looove me.” He said teasingly, giving Qrow a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing again. He really would fall asleep again fairly quickly, with Qrow running his fingers through his hair like that.
He’d expected Qrow to return with some playful snarky remark or gentle push. He hadn’t expected the soft, sincere sound in Qrow’s voice as he spoke.
“Yes... I-I really do.” There was something in Qrow’s voice Clover couldn’t place. It wasn’t sadness, not exactly. It was… reverence? Cautious acceptance?
He moved to place a palm over Qrow’s free hand, pulling it up to rest against his chest, and adjusting them so he could look his husband in the eye.
“What’s up, Qrow?” He said it softly, but matter-of-factly, not letting the older man look away from him.
Qrow’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. Sometimes it was frustrating how well Clover knew him. How easily he could read him. He still didn’t always like to admit it though. Qrow tried to roll his eyes affectionately and throw him off, but Clover could see the tension in his jaw.
“Nothing! Can’t I say that I love my husband without there being something wrong?” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. He was still trying to convince himself that the knot in his throat would just disappear if he watched Clover long enough.
“I didn’t say what’s wrong. I said what’s up.”
“I…. brothers! I mean really, Clover, that’s not fair, ya’know?” He knew him so damn well. Qrow went to pull away in mostly mock annoyance, but Clover held tight.
“Qrow.”
“I….” Qrow sighed, his hand going back to trace over Clover’s temple. And Clover could see it in his eyes now. That... not quite sadness. A heaviness - a surrender and a comfort all at once. It was a look of complete adoration. And it utterly melted Clover. But there was something pained behind it.
“I hadn’t really noticed before.” Qrow whispered, his head angled so that he could look at Clover without lifting his head from his shoulder. His breath ghosted along Clover’s chin, as his fingers brushed along the cup of Clover’s ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
“Hmm? What?” Clover asked, fighting off the warm pull of sleep as he smiled down at Qrow, caught up in the crimson that peaked out from the subtle etches of crow’s feet and laugh lines on his face. Clover would never stop being happy at how many laugh lines Qrow had had reason to acquire in their time together.
Qrow pulled gently at a longer piece of hair, raking his nails oh-so-softly over Clover’s scalp. Even after all these years, Clover still had no idea how that tiny, barely there touch, could make him feel so cold and so warm at the same time. How it could be so grounding and yet make his chest feel weightless.
“The grey.”
Clover paused at that. He definitely had noticed. It hadn’t been very much for a while; only recently had it really gotten to a place where he thought other people might notice. And he wasn’t exactly self-conscious about it. He actually rather liked it, he thought it looked dignified. But Qrow saying it like that, so close - focusing on it so completely - brought up a sudden bashfulness in him.
“O-oh… yeah… yeah, I guess it has… um… do you…” Gods, Qrow was the only person who could ever get this from him; this shy, fumbling, nervousness.
“I….I was thinking about maybe dying it a little? Now that it was getting more….” That was a lie, and not a good one. He hadn’t thought of that at all, hadn’t wanted to, still didn’t want to. But Qrow looking at him like that, plucking at the grey strands like that, was really throwing him off so soon after waking up.
“Really? That’d be a shame. I like it.” Qrow smirked, but there was still that underlying sincerity, fragility, that Clover didn’t know what to do with.
“Oh! Oh… okay… good.. I mean… I mean I… I kinda like it too?”
Qrow didn’t speak again. He just stared at Clover’s temple, running his fingers through the hair. Clover thought he could almost see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. But as soon as he noticed that, Qrow turned, tucking his head back into the crook of Clover’s neck.
He let them lay like that for a moment, until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He thought he might have felt the slightest hint of dampness on his bare skin, where Qrow’s face was pressed.
“Qrow? What is it? Talk to me.”
“What is what?” Qrow pushed himself up on one elbow, frowning down at Clover. But that look was still there. Clover was realizing that there was the slightest hint of fear in his eyes, beyond the subtle gleam of restrained tears. His voice was gravelly, but almost convincing. If Clover didn’t know him so well it might have worked.
“That.” He reached up and pulled his thumb across Qrow’s cheek, watching as his eyes closed and he let out a long breath. “That look. You’re thinking too much about something.”
“It… It’s not... “ He sighed, running his hand through the back of his own hair, Clover noticing the slight pull of tension at the apex of his reach. Then he laid back down, his ear over Clover’s heart, and his fingers once more at his temple.
“I… I just really like it…. Getting to grow old with you…. Getting to see you grow old…. It’s… it’s ….”
Clover could tell he cut himself off before his voice could break. He wanted to try to lighten the mood.
“What? You’re not gonna miss my dashing young looks? Don’t wish we could just stay young forever?”
As soon as the words passed his lips he knew they were a mistake. Shit. Why’d he have to talk so much right after waking up? His head wasn’t clear enough yet to say stuff like that, obviously.
Because it hit him as soon as he stopped talking. What exactly Qrow was saying. Why the simple, inevitable fact of their aging together would affect him like that.
Because for Qrow, that had never seemed inevitable. It had been a dream that he tried not to cling to, because of how painful he knew it would be when it fell apart.
He felt Qrow stiffen slightly and sighed, cursing his always running, half-awake mouth.
“Qrow…. I’m sorry…pretend I didn’t say that, okay? I’m barely awake and just said something dumb to try to cheer you up…. Just…”
Qrow pushed back slightly and just watched Clover. And now his eyes were clearly sad. Loving, reverent. But sad. It was the look Clover usually pretended not to feel, knowing that Qrow didn’t like to dwell on it that much. It was the look that meant Qrow was having to re-convince himself that this was the right thing; that the joy of love was worth the risk of loss, for both of them.
His voice was scratchy but still soft as he spoke, his eyes flitting over Clover’s face, as if floored by the fact that this was even real.
“I love you. E-everyday. Every minute. Every wrinkle. Every grey hair… I… Clover…You are...”
The tears were threatening to spill over now, and Clover knew that later they’d need to talk about whatever it was, specifically, that had kept Qrow up that night, that had led to this.
But right then that wasn’t the most important thing.
He pulled Qrow closer to him again, Clover’s fingers gripping tight to the fabric of his shirt.
“Shhh shhh shhh. I know, sweet bird. I know.” He pressed his lips firmly to Qrow’s hair, closing his eyes.
“I love you, Qrow. Gods… Every moment with you is a blessing I will never know how I got lucky enough to deserve.”
Qrow pushed up to protest, but as soon as his face was level with his own, Clover pulled him closer by the chin, pressing their lips together. He would never get over the hitch in Qrow’s breath whenever he surprised him with a kiss like that. Or the way he melted into it moments later, Clover knowing that his eyes were rolling lovingly behind his closed lids.
Clover pulled away finally, looking now at Qrow’s hair, as he carded his fingers through the messy, ashen strands. He smirked.
“I’ll let you call me a silver fox now, if you let me call you my smokey bird.”
“Clover. That’s not even a pun. That’s just bad.” The chuckle in his voice was the most peaceful thing Clover would ever hear.
“I’m tired. And old. Leave me alone.” He pouted playfully.
“Not for a moment, old man.” A grin pulled at Qrow’s lips, his eyes narrowing.
Clover kissed him again at that smirk - that irresistible smirk that made his crimson eyes shine devilishly.
“It’s ridiculous how much I love you, you know.” Clover sighed, his lips ghosting over Qrow’s cheek.
“....You really do, huh?” It was barely a whisper.
Clover steeled his gaze at the subtle apprehension, insecurity, in his husband’s voice. No matter how many times he heard it, it rattled him. And that was exactly why he reminded him so often; in the hopes that one day, it might be gone forever, but being fully content with repeating it as much as he needed to.
“You have no idea.” His voice was deep, convincing, and he could see the calm wave of relief that it rippled through Qrow.
Now it was Qrow who kissed him, quickly, so very gently. His hand went back to playing with the hair at Clover’s temple and forehead, twirling loosely. His gaze was so close to that sadness from before. But there was the slightest difference. It was still soft, reverent, gentle, but now the sadness, Clover thought, seemed to be replaced by something close to gratitude.
“You know, my silver charm, I just might.”
Clover looked forward to every morning, for the rest of his life, that he got to see that smile.