Work Text:
The people of Atlas tended to not make secrets of much of anything – that was something Qrow learned very quickly after arriving there. Atlesians were chatterboxes first and people second far more often than not. And of the many topics they always made their viewpoints about known, one of the biggest was their overwhelming disdain for the Atlesian winds.
While Qrow went about 50/50 with what things he agreed with the Atlesian consensus about and not, he strongly found himself on the opposite end with this one.
Qrow loved the winds Atlas so generously provided. They were strong, sure, but while they could be annoying -- something Qrow knew very well thanks to a semblance that never quite knew when to shut up -- they were also freeing thanks to that same strength.
But Qrow couldn’t exactly blame Atlesians for their problems with the wind.
After all, unlike himself, they couldn’t fly.
The skies of Atlas provided Qrow with miles upon miles of uncluttered skies to swirl across, and with Qrow’s exercises in his bird form having the added bonus of strengthening him as a human, Qrow liked to take to those skies whenever possible.
It was during the late afternoons that he flew the most. Because most of his companions were out on missions during those times, Qrow could soar to his heart’s content without having to worry about being away should anyone call upon him and by that time, his missions for the day were often done.
Qrow was never gone long – just an hour here and there – but compared to the confining and militant Atlesian Academy compound, that time and freedom was a godsend.
God, he’d never know how Clover -- another fan of the winds, by his own admission -- managed to stand spending so much of his life all cooped up there, sometimes days at a time from what he’d told him.
Clover…
His was a name that, regardless of his form or location, tended to show up a lot in Qrow’s thoughts lately.
He was a good guy, and he was starting to make Qrow feel like he himself was one too.
Qrow never believed he’d be able to deal with Clover Ebi, let alone actually get along with him after their awful first meeting.
But time had a funny way about changing his mind about a lot of things, and if he was grateful for that in regards to anything, it was about how much he now enjoyed Clover’s presence.
And speaking of…
“Qrow!”
Qrow was certain of few things in this world, but one of those few things that he was sure of was that because of a personality he could only describe as ‘loud,’ he’d never lose Clover in a crowd, much less a hallway where they were the only two around.
Apparently, the same could be said for Clover with him.
A kind smirk grew on Qrow’s face as he turned around to greet Clover, something that was quite common for him during their encounters now.
“You seem more chipper than usual,” Qrow said. “Didn’t even think that was possible.”
Clover flashed him a smile.
“Neither did I,” Clover teased, “but this morning, I saw something incredible, and I just can’t believe I got to see it.”
“Oh? What was that?”
“A crow!”
It took all that Qrow had in him to keep his shock from betraying him.
Clover didn’t seem to notice, and continued. “Can you imagine it? A crow just sailing through the arctic like it was just any old piece of farmland. It was beautiful.” Wistfully, Clover sighed. In that moment, he looked for all the world like a lovestruck prince from one of those animated movies.
For a moment, Qrow found himself at a loss for how to proceed. Of course, he knew he wasn’t bound to secrecy over his alternate form’s existence. He never really had been. Ozpin had only suggested he keep quiet about it in the past, but any loyalty he had to Ozpin to keep that or any secret for that matter had long since expired.
He could tell Clover if he wanted to.
...It’s just that Qrow didn’t KNOW if he wanted to.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Clover. Hell, friends and allies he already knew included, he trusted Clover more than he trusted anyone in Atlas that wasn’t already part of his group.
No, what held Qrow’s tongue was the fact that frankly, he had not a damn clue just how to tell him the truth about it.
‘Oh yeah, that crow you saw? That was me. What? I didn’t tell you? I can turn into a bird!’
Clover was cool-headed, but Qrow had a feeling that no temperament could make news like that anything short of mindblowing, and Qrow was just not ready to have that or any kind of mindblowing conversation with Clover just yet.
And hey, just because Atlesians tended to not make secrets of things didn’t mean he couldn’t.
So instead, Qrow swallowed that very secret with a chuckle.
“Didn’t realize you were such a bird nerd.”
“I birdwatch a bit to relax,” Clover said. “They’re so graceful and adaptive. They’re just wonderful to watch. But never in all my years did I imagine I’d see a crow this far up north.”
Qrow bit his cheek. “Do you even get birds this high up?”
“A few, but there’s never been anything like a crow up here before. I can hardly believe my luck.” Clover looked at him and released a small chuckle, one that persisted for quite a long moment, one far longer than made sense even with all the wistfulness in the world.
“What up?” Qrow asked, unable to hold his curiosity back.
“It’s just that I can’t help but get the feeling that you’re the one to thank for this.”
“Oh?”
“Well, your name IS Qrow, is it not? And just as you come to Atlas, a crow of all things takes to Atlas’ skies? That’s one hell of an amazing coincidence, and semblance or no, I try not to delude myself in putting much stake in coincidences.”
“You know,” Qrow pointed out, “crows are supposed to be a symbol of bad luck.”
Clover merely shrugged, which Qrow both loved and hated him for. “Where you see bad luck, I simply see life happening, and a crow in the arctic is a pretty wonderful example of life happening, if you ask me. Honestly, I’ve always wanted to study a crow. I just wish I could get closer to it.” Clover paused for a moment, and then clicked his tongue. “I’ve got an idea!” he continued. “I should set up a birdhouse for it. If it wants to stay in Atlas, it might like a nice little home to call its own. After all, it gets so cold up here.”
Qrow couldn’t help the smirk on his face from growing wider. “Says the guy with the sleeve allergy.”
“Not everyone shares my resistance to the elements, Qrow.” In that expectedly unexpected way that he did basically everything, Clover then flexed one of his sleeveless biceps in Qrow’s direction. Qrow waved it off, prompting the both of them to start laughing, but appreciated the firmness of it as his fingers made contact with his skin.
The memory of the point of contact stuck with him for seconds after it ended -- not long enough for Clover to take notice because of their laughter -- thank the Gods, but long enough that Qrow certainly did.
In all fairness though, how could it not?
Qrow forced himself to blink and get back to the conversation before Clover DID notice. After all, their laughter was dying down, and there were many things Qrow knew he could make a secret of.
Flirting was not one of those things, not with Clover, in any event.
“So,” Qrow said, “are you going to build one?”
Clover shook his head. “Power tools and I have never gotten on. You should’ve seen me when I was making Kingfisher. I did a great job, don’t get me wrong, but never again. How those metal shears didn’t take off more than an inch of my hair is something that for once I can only attribute to my semblance.” Qrow laughed at the comment, and Clover gave him a not-at-all serious glare, a first for them in reverse. “No,” he huffed, though only for that word, “there’s a gardening store in Mantle that is supposed to have a nice selection of things that will be perfect for our little friend. I’ll just go there. They should have everything I need. A birdhouse, birdseed, a water dispenser.”
“You should get blankets, too,” Qrow interjected.
“Blankets?”
Qrow shrugged. “You said it yourself – it’s cold up here. The crow might not be warm enough there with just the wood protecting it. Don’t they normally live in warmer climates, after all?”
Clover nodded, biting the inside of his cheek and wagged his finger in a praising fashion.
“Good point,” he said, giving way to a smile. “You know, you should come and help me set it up. You’re not bad with this kind of stuff.”
“Trying to butter me up?”
“Depends – is it working?”
Yes, it was.
Qrow didn’t answer, just groaning in a way that he hoped would be taken as genuine, though Clover’s face told him point blank that it wasn’t.
Oh jeez, what did he just sign himself up for?
Well, he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell the truth now...someday, but not on the day he basically commissioned a second home for himself.
Looks like he and Clover were even more opposited than Qrow thought.
But all the same, opposites did attract, and Qrow found himself still grateful for that.
“Let’s just get the stupid birdhouse,” he mumbled, walking towards the closest exit with Clover happily following behind.
()()()()()()()()()
Semblances weren’t magic.
Maiden powers weren’t magic.
Whatever abilities Ozpin and Salem had weren’t magic.
Naps, now THOSE were magic.
Who knew an after-fly nap could be so nice?
Well, Qrow DID know, but his schedule had lately not given time for such naps, so he forgot just how much they could do for his tired, tired body.
But that birdhouse of Clover’s just gave him a very pleasant reminder.
He’d have to find a way to say thanks...a way that didn’t involve revealing himself because BOY was he even less ready now to have that conversation with Clover than he was the day he had first been spotted.
‘Thanks for building me a birdhouse! Yeah, you didn’t know? I’m that crow you just spent an afternoon perching that birdhouse on your windowsill for! Funny, right?’
...Qrow was going to pass on that for now.
...In his defense, there were worse things to make secrets of.
“Qrow!”
Clover’s call had Qrow spin around to greet him, his breath somewhat hitched.
He had a funny feeling about what Clover was about to tell him, and it wasn’t funny in a ‘haha’ way.
“I was looking all over for you! You missed the crow in the birdhouse! He took a nap, and it was so cute! And now he’s gone.”
Qrow smirked apologetically. “Sorry, I was…otherwise occupied. But I know you took a million pictures on your scroll, so show me those. I’ll get the idea.”
Clover pouted, muttering about how Qrow was a total spoilsport, but the pout dissolved as he obliged Qrow’s request.
As Qrow looked at the pictures of himself nestling within the birdhouse’s blankets, he found that it was a struggle not to blush. He didn’t know why – after all, Clover didn’t know it was Qrow who was the subject of his little pet project.
But someone watching him sleep, even for reasons as innocent as Clover’s were, was so embarrassing.
However, he could admit that he did look pretty cute sleeping in that birdhouse…
And the fact that Clover found it equally cute was nice as well…
Maybe this was a secret kept for the best after all.
()()()()()()
“We’re talking. Now.”
Qrow blinked. Clover had been a lot of things towards him, but forceful was never one of them. But as he stomped into the room Qrow was relaxing in and glared at him while insisting upon this conversation, seemingly argumentative than Qrow ever believed Clover was able to be argumentative at anything, ‘forceful’ was the only real way Qrow could put it.
He felt cornered -- not in danger by any means, but cornered nonetheless.
And in all honesty, he knew this conversation was coming, and after their last battle had finally exposed the one thing he hoped would be in no hurry to be exposed, it was coming fast.
Karma was a bitch.
“You...that crow...the one I’ve been watching and buying things for...was you?”
It was a simple accusation, one with an even simpler answer, one that Qrow wanted nothing more than to not give.
But the jig was up, and he’d already digged himself into a deep enough hole as it was already.
Now was the time to start climbing himself out.
“Yeah.” Qrow elongating through the word as if it would bore Clover into dropping the subject.
Of course, he knew Clover better than that, but he couldn’t be blamed for trying, right?
...Right?
“You can turn into a bird?” Clover asked, his tone far more neutral now.
Qrow simply nodded this time.
“No.”
His tone was still strangely neutral.
“Yeah,” Qrow eased, his voice stuck somewhere between embarrassed and guilty.
“No.”
“Yeah.” This time, he let himself take a bit more pride.
Finally, Clover seemed to have had enough.
“I can’t believe it! It was you! All along, it was you, and you lied to me about it!”
Despite the fact that it was true, Qrow couldn’t help but laugh. He’d never seen Clover’s face so red, but here it was, its shade as crimson as Qrow’s eyes..
“You suck!” Clover cried. But even as he spoke, Qrow could see his face betraying him, his glare and frown threatening to crumble.
Maybe he could use that to his advantage…
Qrow made a face filled to the brim with mock hurt and placed his hand to his heart. “Is that any way to talk to the brave bird who saved your life? Those Grimm would’ve killed you if I hadn’t distracted them! You should consider yourself lucky.” To add a finishing blow, Qrow sent a smirk Clover’s way, and before Clover could truly start this confrontation, he was done in.
Noiseless breaths of laughter heaved out of Clover’s chest. He placed his hand to his face.
“You’re the worst,” he groaned, words muffled through his hand.
Placing a hand on Clover’s defeated shoulder, Qrow rubbed away.
“Nah,” he said. “I’m just a bit better at keeping a secret than you Atlesians. You’re just not used to someone as sly and cool as me hanging around here. Takes time.”
After a long pause filled with more noiseless laughs, Clover separated his face and hand, now smiling and conspicuously calm. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll just have to learn to be as cool. And hey, maybe you can teach me. You are after all my favorite little birdie.”
Instantly, any satisfaction or pride Qrow took from his confrontation less victory was wiped away.
No one had ever called him ‘birdie.’ Even Raven -- the one person he could always count on for insults -- wasn’t that cruel.
But apparently Clover was.
And Qrow would be lying if he said that it wasn’t a fitting punishment.
That didn’t mean it wasn’t an annoying one, and Qrow couldn’t even try to make a secret out of that.
He groaned, and now it was his turn to bridge the gap between his own hand and face.
“That is awful, and I hate you for using it,” he grumbled.
Clover let out a hearty laugh at his pain, prompting him to squeeze his shoulders against his ears in a failed attempt to drown the laughter out.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, playing far too innocent. “What’s so awful, birdie?”
Qrow’s expression and tone grew deadpan. “I suddenly regret saving your life. You’re not seriously gonna keep using that, are you?”
While Qrow couldn’t see Clover, he could feel Clover’s heat radiating off of him stronger than he had ever felt it before. While he could only take a guess as to where Clover was, a whisper against his left ear put any doubt to bed.
“I think you know. After all, you know us Atlesians hardly make secrets out of anything, birdie.”