Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world was far away.

A heavy pelt of darkness depressed his weary body, disturbed only by a flame simmering somewhere in his chest.

I wanted to trust you.

Metal clanged somewhere in space. The flame simmered. A vague urgency quested towards his awareness, snatching at the pelt.

Good luck.

“It didn’t work.” An almost despondent voice spoke. That voice: he had never heard it like this, but he knew the owner. There were two other voices too, quieter, murmuring together. Tense. Then a fwoosh and a sharp sigh.

“How could you do this James?”

“What part?”

A pained laugh ripped out of the other voice—the other man. He hated that sound immediately. He had to help him—he had to get up.

“Try all of it, you miserable son of a bitch.”

“Qrow—”

Qrow.

A shot rang out. He couldn’t see—Gods he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

“You hijacked that poor girl’s mind so you could retrieve the god damn Staff—” It sounded like Qrow had to cut himself off. “You condemn Mantle; all of those people, to death and then you think you’re gonna somehow bring him back!” A harsh inhalation. “And you can’t even manage that, James. Not even after he died following your orders!”

Silence.

“…He knew the risk.”

A horrible wail and then scuffling, grunts—

“He didn’t have to die. None of this had to happen. If you and your foolish kids had just gone along with the plan—”

“The plan!? Is that what you military bastards call willful genocide?” Qrow was crying as he yelled more ferociously than Clover had ever heard.

Clover.

His name was Clover fucking Ebi and he had to get up right fucking now.

Qrow groweled as Ironwood’s good arm swatted him away, firing off another round. He dodged easily enough, but he knew the cocktail of emotional negativity swarming his addled thoughts would only keep him going for so long before his exhaustion and waning aura gave out on him. But Penny would be back with Ruby and the others once they finished clearing out the remaining Grimm. He just had to—

A heavy knee met his stomach and he stumbled back, keeling over, white-hot agony spilling from the point of impact.

“I saw you clutching your stomach when you came in here.” Ironwood’s cool voice floated over as he holstered his weapon. Damn him. “Now,” Qrow croaked as a heavy metal fist seized his throat. “Stop fighting me, Qrow.”

The hand squeezed and Qrow kicked helplessly, hands coming up to grab at the wrist he had no hope of moving. Feeling strength waning from him, he tapped the offending arm, trying to communicate surrender, but the bastard just kept holding him aloft and there was no sign of the ultimately kind, well-meaning man Qrow had considered a friend for so long.

Until today.

I trust James with my life.

“Drop him.”

An impossible voice cut through his fading awareness like a knife.

“It worked,” James breathed. In his shock, his grip on Qrow loosened and the other man gratefully sank to the floor.  

“Clover?” Qrow could barely hear his own voice as he tried to stand, body protesting every movement. His vision was coming and going, he was still coughing, but he had to get up. Had to see, make sure this was real.

“Qrow,” Clover breathed, keeping his eyes trained on the shocked Ironwood as he made his way toward the fallen man.

“You ok?” his voice was raspy as hell, but Clover was grateful he could even speak. Somehow. He would very much like an explanation, but that could wait. Crouching and staring in to wide, glistening red eyes, he wiped a tear away from Qrow’s cheek without a thought. Meanwhile, Qrow couldn’t stop the hysterical giggle that tore out of him.

“You—you died,” fresh tears fell as he shut his eyes, “And you’re asking me if I’m ok?”

“Qrow—"

“Clover.” Ironwood’s distant voice chilled the captain. “Are you well?”

“Well, sir,” he huffed a laugh, “I’m pretty sure I just died so—"

“Good,” Ironwood cut him off. “Arrest him.”

“Sir…” Clover gaped, searching for any last shred of reason to his superior’s madness. “James, what are you talking about?” Clover could hear his voice pitching higher with his growing incredulousness. He and Qrow had been holding on to each other, but Qrow’s hands began to fall away. The hurt and resignation in his eyes had Clover’s chest aching anew. 

“You do what you gotta do, Solider Boy,” Qrow drawled, a vanquished sort of sorrow replacing the usual snark and charisma Clover had come to know. He had to squeeze his own eyes shut against the onslaught of guilt raging through him.

“I know my last couple of orders may have seemed…extreme,” Ironwood was still talking, “But as always, I had Atlas’s best interests at heart.”

“But at what cost?” He ground out. He was suddenly so very angry. He…he felt betrayed. He could only imagine how Qrow and the citizens of Mantle felt. When he looked up, James was staring at him, eyes wide.

“You knew the cost…” He swallowed and for a second his icy gaze thawed, but he closed his eyes and when they opened his emotions were closed off once more. “No matter how hard we tried, we all knew the cost could be great, Captain.”

Clover bowed his head, a wry smile forming as he slowly stood to face Ironwood, stepping in front of Qrow. A movement that had Ironwood’s eyes flicking to him in quietly surprised anger.

“I’m sorry sir, but I don’t remember, as Qrow put it, ‘willful genocide’ being discussed at the latest briefing.” He had slipped into his commanding ‘fearless leader’ tone only there was a fierceness underlying it that he had couldn’t remember hearing from himself before. “I betrayed Mantle and my—” He swallowed, catching wide red eyes. “My partner and a good man.” He hoped Qrow could read the remorse in his eyes. Clover sighed. “I followed you blindly, sir, because I believed in you, in the mission. That you had good reasons for everything you did. And I think…I think you did for a long time.” He swallowed, “But not anymore.”

A warm hand squeezed his shoulder and he sighed in gratitude, placing his own hand over it as he and Qrow stood together.

Ironwood’s eyes narrowed before he laughed, and it was far from pleasant. The cold aloofness was giving way to something more unhinged. “Originally, I thought pairing you two up might help both of you balance your unique semblances.” His lips quirked into something crueler and his gaze bored in to Qrow. “But it seems not even my best man could withstand the corruption of your inherent misfortune."

Clover had always loved the deep red of Qrow’s cape, but the red he saw now was bright like looking at the sun with your eyes closed. He couldn’t hear anything but a ringing in his ears and the roaring in his heart, not even the sickening crunch of Ironwood’s jaw and the thump of his body hitting the floor as Clover felt his fist fall to his side.

A soft, “Holy shit,” met his ears. Qrow had a half hysterical half amused grin on his face as he turned towards Clover.

“…Committing treason is actually strangely satisfying,” Clover told him faintly, staring at the downed man. His general. The leader of Atlas. Who’s face he’d just introduced to a meaningful uppercut. And he wasn’t sorry.

“I coulda told you that,” Qrow muttered, shaking his head with a small laugh.

Both men were strangely satisfied for about five seconds before Clover’s legs gave out.

“Clover!” Qrow grabbed the man’s stupidly large biceps before he could fall to the ground. Clover’s head fell forward, colliding with Qrow’s shoulder with a pained grunt. “Easy,” Qrow murmured, “C’mere.” Clover grimaced, clutching his chest as Qrow maneuvered them to the floor. One arm pulling the larger man against his side, Qrow hesitantly put one hand over Clover’s white knuckled grip. “Just breathe, Clover. You’re alright.” Clover looked up at Qrow with watering eyes, gasping harshly.

“Can’t,” He sounded so lost and pained, so unlike the poised, confident man Qrow had come to know. The man who had just punched Ironwood’s lights out for Brothers’ sakes. “I can’t,” he shuddered, eyes screwing shut.

“Hey hey, it’s alright, I’ve got you,” Qrow kept up his flow of gentle affirmations, shifting Clover on to his lap so the man could rest against his chest. He didn’t know if the poor man was having a panic attack or his literally fatal injury was acting up. Maybe it was both. All he knew for sure was that he had to hold on to the man in his arms for as long as he could.

Clover’s desperate grip on his own ruined shirt gradually relaxed along with his shuddering body. It took a while for him to breath regularly again, but Qrow didn’t mind. He was just relieved beyond words that Clover was breathing in any capacity at all.

“I’m fine,” Clover said eventually, voice hoarse and sounding decisively not fine. “Qrow…” he frowned, trying to sit up. “Qrow, you need to get out of here. There’ll be Grimm and I don’t think I can fight—”

“Clover, stop,” Qrow admonished. The other man blinked, wearily sagging back in his hold. Any rebuttal died at the fierce promise in narrow red eyes. “Anything comes after us, it’s not getting out alive.”

“You would stay…even though, after everything I did?”

“Everything you did—” Qrow didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Was he serious!? “Clover, it was my weapon that—that killed you.” He had to bend his head forward, face contorting against a sudden onslaught of tears. They shouldn’t do this now, Clover was—fuck, but he couldn’t. “I’m so fucking sorry—"

“No,” Clover reached out, catching the side of Qrow’s face. “No, don’t you dare blame yourself, Qrow. It may have been your weapon, but it was Tyrian who used it."

“The last thing I wanted to do was fight alongside that fucking asshole,” Qrow sobbed, words ending in a hiss. He was pulling away, tears streaming down his face. “I didn’t want to! We could’ve beaten him again; I would’ve come back to Atlas with you—I even said I would!”

Clover’s heart sank, “Qrow—"

“Why?” Qrow’s voice was as broken as his weary heart. “Why couldn’t you just trust me?”

As he looked in to Qrow’s heartbroken face, Clover felt like he was dying again. Before he could respond, Qrow looked at him, miserable. “M’sorry, you’re…you’re in pain and I’m not—we shouldn’t do this now.”

Clover almost cried out as he forced himself to sit up fully. Now that the adrenalin was wearing off, he imagined his body was remembering the inconvenient fact of his recent demise. Qrow’s eyes widened and he made to move, but Clover took his hands, grateful when the other man didn’t pull away.

He tried to pour all his conviction into his gaze. Qrow had to know, had to understand that it wasn’t his fault. “When I said I wanted to trust you…” Clover ducked his head in shame for a moment before staring back into red eyes resolutely. “It wasn’t about trusting you. It was…about trusting myself to make the right decision. Back on the transport, when your face came on my screen I—” he laughed, but it was cold and bitter. “I was shocked at first, but then I thought the General must have some sort of good reason for it, some grand scheme that I didn’t need to know the details of. I just had to get Tyrian locked up and bring you and your kids in and everything would be fine,” he swallowed thickly. “But then the truth about Mantle. And then Robyn—and everything just, everything was spiraling out of control. And I kept…I panicked, Qrow.” Clover put his head in his hands. “I had to do my duty, I had to protect Atlas, but as the cost of Mantle? And then…and then there was you and I—” Clover shook his head, “There was no time and it was like my mind was trying to tell me to stop, but the rest of me just went on autopilot. I just had to follow orders no matter how much I…no matter the cost. I jumped out of that transport without looking back!” Clover threw his arms in to the air in exasperation over his own insanity. His aching chest did not appreciate the movement, but he didn’t care. His physical pain was nothing in the face of the anguish he had clearly caused the other man. “No matter how wrong the situation in Mantle was, I couldn’t betray Ironwood. I couldn’t stop being the loyal soldier.” Clover slowly locked eyes with Qrow. “Not even for you,” he whispered, regret written in pained teal eyes as Qrow’s hands slipped out of his grasp, the man’s eyes wide with feeling. “I was relieved in a way, when I fell. That it wasn’t you.” He stared brokenly at his now empty hands.

“Clover…” Qrow swallowed thickly, searching for the right thing to say. If there even was a right thing. None of this was right. Luckily or unluckily, Clover kept talking.

“When I was in the Academy and my semblance unlocked…it, well it wasn’t so lucky. My fellow students, even my friends started shooting me dirty looks during training. Scoffed at my test scores. Guys wouldn’t want to date me because they thought my semblance would force them into it somehow,” Clover’s expression darkened at that admission. “Turns out everyone decided that my good fortune was a cheat and the only reason for my success. Nothing I did, no skill that I honed for myself, none of it was worth anything because it was all just good luck.”

“But James, he recognized my actual skill, my work ethic, recognized me as more than my semblance. Eventually most people came around, but Ironwood was the only person in my corner from the beginning. And if he could have faith in me when no one else did, then of course I would do the same for him.” Clover only groaned a little bit as he shifted to sit cross legged. “That probably sounded pretty lame, I know,” he ducked his head, feeling woefully inadequate in front of the man he had wrongfully fought.

“No, it doesn’t,” Qrow sighed. He thought of Ozpin, his encouragement and supposed trust in Qrow despite his horrible semblance. He hadn’t put much thought in to following Oz in those days, it was just the right thing to do. And Oz…had a way of making him feel like he was…more than his semblance.

“I know a thing or two about following this impressive figure, a friend, a mentor and then finding out suddenly they’re full of shit,” Qrow chuckled, “And well, not reacting in the greatest way.” Qrow rubbed the back of his neck, catching Clover’s eyes and the way the other man was hanging on to his every word. “It can be hard to… do what’s right.”

They sat in companionable, albeit wary silence for a while. Clover broke it quietly, “I’ve always tried to bring out the best in people, but I think I may have lost sight of myself,” he admitted, grimacing as the ache in his chest sparked. He curled in on himself, one hand flat against the ground for support, the other clenching his shirt.

“Still hurts huh?” Qrow asked, gently maneuvering Clover’s rigid form back against himself.

Clover sighed against Qrow’s chest. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Huh.

“You shouldn’t do that you know.”

“What?” Clover blinked up at him.

“Deflect your pain.” Qrow said with a knowing smile. Clover let out a startled sound, laughing despite everything as Qrow turned his own words against him. And maybe it was hearing that truth spoken out loud, maybe it was the careful, soft, hopeful affection in Qrow’s gaze, maybe it was just his luck. But something broke inside of him and he couldn’t. The laughter turned to sobs and he felt himself being wrapped up in the other’s strong arms. Burrowing his face in to Qrow’s chest, Clover tried in vain to cry as silently as possible, but it wasn’t easy. He felt like he could’ve been screaming.

Suddenly, he wanted to laugh again, realizing he was trying again to do just as Qrow accused him of.

“Qrow,” Clover spoke softly as soon as he could breathe again. He hadn’t cried in…Gods he couldn’t remember.

“Yeah?” Qrow had tucked Clover’s head under his chin, holding the man against his chest, their legs sprawled out in front of them.

“For so long now,” Clover had to screw his eyes shut to stop himself from crying yet again. “For so long I’ve been living this life that…” he shuddered. “That doesn’t allow me to fail, to be anything less than the perfect soldier I was trained to be. I…I don’t regret it. I’m proud of the work we did…well, before all of this. And it wasn’t always this bad, but…I don’t know, maybe it was. Gods I don’t even know what I’m saying right now.” Qrow just hummed thoughtfully, stroking his hair. Clover wasn’t crying again; except he absolutely was because this was so soft and tender and everything he had forcibly deprived himself of for so long to fulfill his duty. But more than that it was Qrow. It was the deadliest huntsman in Remnant who kicked his feet up in a military transport and sighed in his sleep. It was this nurturing, loving man who still looked surprised when his girls looked at him with pride and adoration. It was the wounded soul who dared to hope and do better every day. And he had been choosing to open his incredible heart to Clover. Clover who couldn’t stand with him when it mattered most.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Clover couldn’t bear to look at Qrow, hearing his voice crack as he spoke into the man’s chest.

“I already did like twenty minutes ago when you punched Jimmy in his bastard face for me.” Qrow rolled his eyes, but with no shortage of fondness. “But if you pull this shit again, I’ll wrap you up with Kingfisher and leave you at the door of Schnee Manor.”

Clover’s relief was euphoric. “A cruel, but just punishment,” he agreed with a laugh.

It was then that General James Ironwood began to stir with a groan. “Hold on,” Qrow muttered, eyeing the man shakily getting to his feet. “Qrow,” the general growled while Qrow’s hand roved the smooth floor for something he could use…

“Qrow, you—" Ironwood never got to finish as the rock collided with his face.

“Goodnight, James,” Qrow drawled, causing Clover to laugh so hard he wheezed.

“Did you just…take out Ironwood with a rock?”

“Yep.”

“Qrow Branwen, you are something else,” Clover said with that reverent warmth that gave Qrow a whole host of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with.

“So anyway,” Qrow coughed, “No more of this following highly questionable orders crap, yeah?” 

“I don’t know,” Clover grinned, closing his eyes. “If it comes from you, I’ll probably follow it anyway.” Gah. Qrow’s heart did something funny and he wondered if Clover could hear it. He also had no idea how to respond, wide eyes taking in the man’s serene smile as he melted in to Qrow. What was he supposed to do with this wonderful, sweet, cheesy as all hell, charismatic lucky bastard?

They stayed wrapped up in each other for a while, Clover drifting in and out of consciousness while Qrow’s fingers carded through brown hair. Despite the day’s events, which were pretty batshit, even for Qrow, he felt a warmth and tranquility he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Despite recent events, something about the man in his arms just felt like hope, or faith. Was there a difference?

His musings were cut short by an extensive yawn rippling through him. “I need a long fucking nap.”

“Now that sounds magical,” Clover’s reply was garbled by his own yawn that had Qrow snorting at him.

“Qrow?”

“Mmm?”

“I think I may need a new job.” Qrow laughed at Clover’s deadpan delivery.

“Well, I think we all need a vacation.”

“I can’t remember the last time I took one of those.”

“Neither can I.” Qrow sighed, imagining them sitting together like this, but on Patch’s shores, warm and content. Maybe if they survived Salem…

“Not sure I deserve one anymore honestly,” Clover’s quiet admission snapped him out of his imaginings.

“Clover…we all fuck up. Trust me, I know. But, as long as you try to do better, then, I think you deserve…to be OK.” Qrow swallowed, looking away. “You helped me to see that,” he whispered.

“Oh Qrow,” Clover brought Qrow’s head back towards him with one gentle hand. Their foreheads rested together and Qrow sighed. “And Clover… figuring this shit out…you don’t have to do it alone.” He pressed his lips together, stumbling only for a moment over his next words. “Over these past few months, you’ve helped me rethink a few things about myself…reminded me that I can…have people in my life.” Qrow turned as red as his cloak as he spoke, a sheepish smile on his lips. “And I’d like to keep being in your life, if that’s alright?” Clover’s heart roared to life along with the desire to kiss the crap out of that gorgeous man, but as luck would have it his lungs decided a coughing fit was more appropriate.

“Jeez Clover, we should take you to Pietro,” Qrow suggested, rubbing circles into Clover’s back as he hacked up air. Privately, he had already resolved to do so, but he’d give Clover the chance to come willingly.

“That’s not—” Clover cut himself off with a wince. Wow, he really did have a problem. “I mean…sounds like a good idea?” Qrow snorted. “Do I get an A for effort at least?”

“I’ll consider a C+ with revisions.”

Clover looked stunned, sighing dramatically. “Oh, but you have exacting standards, Professor Branwen.”

“Damn straight I do,” Qrow winked. Then the sound of an elevator whirring to life and excited voices started filtering in. Finally.

“Took you long enough,” he smiled at the eight kids, his eight kids if he was being honest, barreling towards them as they all yelled at once.

“Uncle Qrow!”

“Are you OK!”

“What happened to Ironwood?”

“Is he…dead?”

“We killed sooooo many Grimm!”

“You missed it!”

“Ozpin is back and he and Oscar were so cool and—Are you OK?” Ruby, clearly intent on hugging the life out of him stopped when she registered Clover. Silver eyes blinked, “Is, um, Clover OK?”

“We’re fine. Well, I am. Can’t say the same for lucky charm, here. But he’s a work in progress.”

“Wow.” Clover feigned hurt, but it failed spectacularly with the grin on his face.

“Come on everybody,” Qrow grunted, one arm sliding beneath Clover’s knees and the other supporting his upper back. He stood, the soldier in his arms beaming up at him. “Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Text

“Hang in there, lucky charm,” Qrow murmured from somewhere above him. Clover’s eyes were screwed tight, his head instinctively turning in to Qrow’s hand. The pained man whimpered at the soft press of lips against his forehead.

The pain was going to start up again in earnest, he could feel it. Fuck. Clover Ebi did not panic, but newly resurrected Clover Ebi was getting concerned about whether his newly resurrected body didn’t want to be resurrected.

“There’s a lot of scarred tissue around the area,” another voice—Pietro. “But aside from that, any internal damage has been healed.”

“Then why is he in so much pain?” Clover could hear the frown in Qrow’s voice.

Pietro sighed. “I wish I knew, but all of my diagnostic tests have come back negative. If I had to make an educated guess, I would say its psychosomatic in nature, perhaps even magical,” the man sighed, “Unfortunately, I’m not exactly a relics expert.”

“Um,” another voice spoke up. It was—Oscar? Oh Gods, were all the kids watching him in his dilapidated state? He forced his eyes open to check but couldn’t see past the soft browns and greys of Qrow’s Huntsman garb. The man was standing, but hunched over Clover, fingers running through his hair. Clover had tried to cling to that soothing sensation, but the fire in his chest wouldn’t have it. Fuck, but he couldn’t remember being hurt like this before. To be fair, he had never died before either. He could only remember two specific instances with two particularly difficult Grimm assaults where his aura was shattered, and he was laid up in the hospital for a week or so…and neither of those times had him crying like a wounded child.

He was not used to this and he already hated it.

“Ozpin says that it is probably a mixture of both mental trauma and magical side effects…He says it’s hard to explain—”

“Well, he better start trying,” Qrow growled low, twisting away from Clover.

“Qrow,” Clover croaked, trembling hand grabbing the other man’s wrist. “S’ok,” Qrow immediately turned back towards him, stern expression softening. With a heavy sigh, Qrow let himself fall to his knees before Clover, gently prying his hand away and enveloping it in both of his, pressing a kiss to Clover’s knuckles. What sounded like an aborted squeal and several hushed whispers sounded from behind him. Oh gods, the kids really were standing there.

Oh gods, Qrow’s kids. What did they think of him? And now that this…well, budding romance with Qrow was out in the open? Ok, he could deal with that later. First, figure out how to stop his body from trying to kill him. Again. Second, Qrow. Third, kids—Oh fuck. His thoughts were derailed by a freight train of fire lighting up his torso in new and terrible ways. He could, he couldn’t—
“OK, everybody who isn’t Oscar or Jaune needs to leave,” Qrow barked as Clover cried out, writhing in the leaner man’s grip on his arms. “Now.”
*
Clover was dying again, until he wasn’t, until there was a steady hand over his heart and a strange warm pulsing feeling reverberating through his body. His eyes flickered open to find Jaune, eyes shut in concentration, leaning over him. White light pulsed over him in gentle waves, eventually giving way to the green of his aura until he felt…fine. Huh.

“Thank you, Mr. Arc,” he said, voice concerningly hoarse.

“It’s Jaune,” the boy corrected gently, removing his hand.

“Thanks kiddo,” Qrow ruffled the spikes of blond hair, gratitude shining in his eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Jaune yawned, walking away, mumbling something about finding his team.

Qrow hummed in acknowledgment before pressing a kiss to Clover’s forehead, “Hey there Lucky Charm, feeling better?”
“…Yes?”

Qrow snorted. “Was that an answer or?”

“Yes, no. Yes, I feel better. Which is strange,” Clover sighed, “That kids got one hell of a semblance.”

“And one hell of a heart,” Qrow smiled with no shortage of pride. “So,” he sighed, sitting in a chair which wasn’t there before. How much time had passed? Clover didn’t remember passing out exactly. Huh. Shit. Fuck. “Cloves, you uh still with me?”

Clover coughed, “Uh yeah, sorry.” Keep it together, Ebi. He instinctively slapped his face as if he was looking into his bathroom mirror before heading out for another hard day of work.

“Okaay,” Qrow took Clover’s hands in his, staring down at the now embarrassed man in bemusement. “Listen, Cloves, Ozpin and I talked about your,” he cast around for the right word. “Condition.”

“Condition?”

“Yeah,” Qrow squeezed his hands, “The thing is, the old man thinks you’re gonna keep having these flare ups for a while.”

Clover blinked. “Well, fuck.”

“He…also says they’ll only go away with time and that it depends a lot on your psychological health.” Qrow broke the news slowly, carefully. Even so, Clover wanted to cry. The charismatic, ‘we can turn this day around’ part of himself had clearly gone into hibernation. He’d rather have a physical injury and a prescription for months of arduous physical therapy than whatever the heck was wrong with his mind.

“Psychological health?”

“Yeah.”

Clover, lost in his thoughts, missed Qrow’s concerned regard for the injured man’s baleful expression.

“You trust me, Cloves?”

“Always.”

“…Ok,” Qrow breathed after momentarily forgetting how because Clover’s response was so earnest and immediate despite his obvious turmoil. “We’re gonna get you through this.” Clover’s hand topped Qrow’s as he struggled against sudden tears, finding himself shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t have to take care of me. I don’t—I don’t deserve it,” his heart quickened its pace. Emotions bubbling forth at the admission. “Your mission to defeat Salem is more important and—"

“Clover—”

“No, I know what we said, before, but,” Clover’s tears blinded him and that was fine because he didn’t want to see Qrow’s concern and misplaced affection anymore as much as another part of him yearned for it. “How can you look at me like that when I betrayed everyone?” His harsh, labored breathing was the only sound in the suddenly silent room. Mantle’s ruined streets, the unseeing eyes of dead civilians; people he was supposed to protect flared up in his mind. The walk over from a fallen Atlas to the miraculously mostly intact pharmacy had not been kind to his guilty heart. “I—I…what was the point? What was the point of—of all of it? The missions, the tower, if it was all going to end in disaster?”

He groaned, forcing himself to pull away from Qrow’s hands as he convinced his miserable body to sit up. “I betrayed you, the people I swore to protect in Mantle, Atlas, even myself.” He inhaled sharply, “I had…doubts. I thought…James could be doing things differently, that Mantle was suffering too much, but I stayed silent, convinced myself he knew what he was doing, that it wasn’t my place, and then you and your kids came and,” He shook his head, smiling bitterly. “And you were all so different from us and everything I knew…” he looked up in to wide red eyes, “You were a family and watching you and your kids together, well,” he laughed, clipped, broken. “I never realized just how lonely I’ve been.”

Qrow inhaled deeply before stepping in between Clover’s legs which were hanging off the side of the bed. He kissed the idiot before pulling him into an embrace. Clover gasped, stiffening before letting himself be grounded in Qrow’s warmth, listening to his heartbeat. His arms snaked around that slender waist, squeezing too tight, needing too much. “Sorry, I’m—I’m all over the place.”

“Clover,” Qrow sighed, “You literally just came back to life. If anyone’s allowed to be all over the place, it’s you.”

“I…you’re right. Gods, I just…fuck.” He burrowed his face in to Qrow’s chest, eliciting a huff of laughter from the other man. He was grateful the firestorm in his chest had dwindled to a dull ache, but now he couldn’t help the anxiety over when his next ‘flare up’ would be. He traced his scar with weary fingers, sighing deeply. Lips pressed into his hairline and then Qrow was pulling back, tilting Clover’s face up just enough to meet his eyes.

“Clover,” he said, gaze so fond Clover’s heart leapt into his throat. “I’m gonna tell you something I never said to anybody before, so hopefully it makes sense.” Qrow sighed, looking away. “Part of the reason, well most of it I guess, that I started drinking was to hide from my past. After Raven left, I thought swallowing the pain down with a flask full of poison was the only way to hold myself together, to be strong for the girls, for Tai, for Oz’s…quest.” Clover didn’t miss the bitter, hollow note his voice took on at the mention of Oz.

“But I was wrong. Truth is, if you try to numb yourself to the pain, it’ll just leak out in worse ways than you coulda imagined.” He swallowed, blinking away images of furious, disappointed silver eyes. “So its fucking fine to be a little all over the place for a while. Or for some of us, a long fucking while. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is,” he caught Clover’s face in his hands, “Is that you’re allowed to freak out and cry and talk about this shit for as long as you need to because it’s the only way to heal what can be healed and deal with what can’t,” he smiled, “And I know you would tell me the same thing, so don’t you dare act like it doesn’t apply to you too, ya idiot.”

Clover laughed, wiping at his eyes. “Thank you, Qrow.”

“Yeah well, you’re welcome,” Qrow huffed. Exhausted as he was, Clover knew he would never tire of that adorable sheepish grin. That glimmer of genuine affection in crimson eyes. No living being deserved to be the focus of that gaze. And here was Clover.

I’ve never been so lucky.

Words weren’t enough so he kissed Qrow instead, trying to sear his overwhelming gratitude and affection into it. the kiss was…wonderful; of course, it was, it was Qrow, but brief as Clover’s body rudely reminded him that it wasn’t up for romance yet.

“You need to stop trying to kiss me when you’re about to pass out,” Qrow laughed softly against Clover’s hairline.

“What do you mean try?” Clover pouted. Qrow laughed, pressing a kiss to his head and then gently laying the injured man back down on to the bed.

“You should rest. You can freak out again later,” he smirked.

“I think I will thank you,” Clover pursed his lips, looking away with dramatic indignance. Qrow laughed again, starting to shift away. An embarrassing wave of panic passed over Clover as he grabbed Qrow’s wrist. “Stay?” please. He sighed in relief as long fingers entwined with his.

“Always.”

*
“This. Is. Happening!” Nora was practically vibrating as she flailed about in delight. Ren smiled softly at the antics of his girlfriend.

“I’m so confused!” Ruby shouted, arms in the air. “All of Uncle Qrow’s inappropriate stories were about girls!”

Blake and Yang side-eyed each other nervously. “Well,” Blake started.

“You can like both,” Yang finished, taking Blake’s hand in hers.

Ruby blinked before her eyes went into sparkly saucer mode. “Ohmygosh ohmygosh I wasn’t sure but ohmygosh yay!” Both Blake and Yang struggled to stay upright as the red blur barreled into them for a hug.

Nora was next to join in starry eyed excitement. “Oh, my gods, we can go on a triple date!”

“Nora,” Ren raised an eyebrow, “I doubt Qrow and Clover want to go out with two pairs of teenagers.”

“Well how else are we gonna keep an eye on them!?”

“What do you mean keep an eye on them?” Weiss asked, unimpressed.

“We have to make sure Clover treats Qrow right!”

“Nora, they’re both grown adults. I’m sure they can figure it out without your intervention.” Weiss sighed, looking up at the dark Mantle sky. Then, her lips twitched, and she couldn’t help but grin, “Besides, did you see the way they look at each other?”

“I don’t understand. How did they look?” Penny asked.

“Well, Penny,” Ruby tried, “You know how two people look at each other when they’re…you know, in love.”

Penny blinked a few times. “Oooooo,” she clapped her hands together. “Well that is wonderful!”

“What’s wonderful?” Oscar called walking outside to stand beside a barely conscious Jaune.

“Qrover! Or Clow? Or maybe oh my gosh Lucky Charms!”

“Don’t you think that’s a little on the nose?” Weiss rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Oscar, are they Ok?”

“Yeah, they’re um, sleeping. Well Clover is, but they’re um, you know together?” Oscar was blushing. “It’s really cute,” he whispered, hands going to cover his face.
Team RWBY and Nora shot back through the door while the others laughed and or sighed before following.
*
Qrow’s upper body rested against the raised portion of the bed while Clover rested against his chest. The larger man’s head was tucked under Qrow’s chin, eyes fluttering slightly, lips slightly parted. One of Qrow’s arms was wrapped around Clover’s waist, a snug anchor. The other lay across his chest, ending with entwined hands over Clover’s heart. Qrow’s smile as he held the sleeping man was the softest little grin that Ruby had ever seen on her Uncle’s face.

“Are you crying?” Yang whispered.

“Maybe.”

“Cool.” Ruby looked over, relieved to see she wasn’t the only one with tears in her eyes. Blake was patting Yang’s shoulder as Weiss wiped away a single tear.

“OK,” Jaune nodded, “That is, yeah that’s adorable.”

“I’m just glad he’s happy.” Ruby sniffed. Nora had wrapped her arms around Ren burrowing into his back to stifle her joyous screams. Ren laughed softly, watching Qrow with happiness for the peace that had finally settled over their long-suffering guardian.