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Clover used to think that things would get easier once the war was over. Almost a year later, his mind clearer than ever and body held together with metal, he knew that had been naive and was ready to admit that he had been very, very wrong.
Once the fighting had ended, rebuilding started. All the problems brought to the surface by war needed to be finally addressed, and as soon as anyone let a sigh of relief over completing one task, a dozen new ones appeared.
General Schnee was a blessing and a curse in navigating that process. Strict and organized, she was doing an amazing job of redirecting military resources where they were needed most, and was ruthless towards corporate giants like her father. Her no-nonsense attitude came in handy in council meetings, but it also meant she asked from everyone as much as she asked from herself. Which was… a lot.
Today was one of the rare days when Clover could potentially afford a small break that wasn’t for food or sleep. If things went smoothly, he’d have over an hour before the next meeting. To be fair, the only reason for that was probably that Winter suspected things might not, in fact, go smoothly.
As Clover entered the Headmaster’s office, he had to admit that she might have been right.
He’d never seen General… Headmaster Ironwood so exhausted. Granted, Clover had apparently missed the other man’s lowest moments by being in a coma, but that was a weak consolation.
Clover thought that Ironwood probably took what was happening especially close to heart. After dedicating his life to serving both the military and the Academy, he must have been used to them being one and the same, and seeing the beginning of their separation was undoubtedly difficult. The ex-general wasn’t young, and Clover was certain change didn’t come easy to him, but Ironwood still pushed on, clinging to the last remnants of normalcy.
It was somehow much harder to stop calling him General than to apply the title to Winter, and Ironwood himself must have felt the change just as keenly. Clover would have pitied him if he didn’t admire him so much.
Ironwood looked up from the papers in front of him and graced Clover with a tired, but genuine smile.
“Are you here to discuss the Academy reform proposal? I looked through it.” Ironwood rubbed his eyes with one gloved hand and grabbed a folder from the array of paperwork.
Clover was prepared for arguments, but Ironwood surprised him by nodding at the folder. “I’ve added some minor changes, but overall it’s looking really promising. You all did a great job. This… this reform has probably been a long time coming.”
Winter’s fears hadn’t manifested. Instead of fighting the change, Ironwood seemed to accept its necessity, as well as the fact that he couldn’t be the one to carry it out.
And Clover, looking at his General’s — no, the Headmaster’s — wistful and proud smile, was reminded exactly why he was once willing to unconditionally trust him with anything. Things would never be the same, but maybe some bridges weren’t burnt as thoroughly as they had seemed when he’d first woken up from his coma.
“Thank you, sir.” He accepted the folder and instead of heading for the door towards the long-awaited break, lingered, not really knowing why. Blue eyes met teal once again.
“I…” Ironwood seemed uncertain and almost sheepish for a moment. “Are you busy right now?”
Clover blinked, thrown off by the question. “Not for a while, if you don’t want to discuss the proposal further? Did you need something?”
“I’m not entirely sure about that…” Ironwood sighed, and Clover felt that the Headmaster was a few seconds away from dropping his head onto the pile of papers and maybe even doing something as undignified as thumping his forehead on the hard surface.
“I did something yesterday that seemed like a good idea, but now I’m not so sure,” Ironwood admitted. Clover resisted the urge to laugh.
“Sir, with all due respect, you’re going to have to tell me what it is if you want my help.”
Ironwood took a deep breath. “I might have asked Qrow to fill in for professor Krasna. And… well. It’s weapon design, and I know Qrow is good at it, but now I’m afraid he might be too good. And he’s not exactly well-known for his tact. Just… could you maybe go and check on him to make sure he isn’t bullying students? It’s not that I don’t trust him, but… It wouldn’t exactly be suspicious if you came by, would it?”
Clover really hoped his face didn’t look as red as it felt. Ever since the end of the war he and Qrow had been locked in a complicated dance of not-quite-flirting and giving each other space. Clover was quite certain everyone thought there was more going on than there actually was, but any and all attempts at disproving the rumors only served to fan the flames.
There was something, though. And while Clover wouldn’t dare call it a relationship for fear of jinxing it, he was hoping it would grow into one. Stil, they were both constantly busy and tired — too busy to properly sit down and talk, or to go on a date, and even too tired to maybe do something about the still growing tension that doesn’t, strictly speaking, involve dating.
“Sure, I can swing by. They’re in the workshop, then?” Clover tried to go for nonchalance, but judging by the barely concealed chuckle that accompanied Ironwood’s nod, he didn’t succeed.
Clover made a hasty escape before he did anything more embarrassing than blush.
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Qrow and the students were not, in fact, in the workshop. As he rushed around the Academy building, Clover started to panic, imagining all sorts of scenarios that would lead to the disappearance of two dozen people. If he’d stopped for a moment, he probably would have realized that he could find the location of Qrow’s scroll, but before any sort of rational idea entered his head, Clover heard laughter from the winter garden.
“No! No, that’s exactly the point of being here!” Qrow’s voice was impossible to mistake for anything. Clover carefully peered into the garden through the clear glass doors only to see Qrow sitting on the ground among the flowers, surrounded by students.
“Don’t think of what you can make, or what materials and instruments you can use. Think of what you want your weapon to be, think of how you are most comfortable fighting. Use your imagination!”
Qrow’s image grew foggy as Clover leaned in too close and condensation grew across the glass. He stumbled back, shocked at his own eagerness, but no one in the garden seemed to notice the suspicious movements outside.
“Well what if I want to shoot energy beams out of my eyes?” One of the students asked smugly. Clover held his breath.
“Hmmm…That would be pretty cool, wouldn’t it?” Qrow mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. He didn’t seem frustrated in the least, on the contrary, he seemed to take it as a challenge and not an attempt to disrupt the lesson.
“Then, what exactly do you want to shoot out of your eyes?”
“Huh?” That was obviously not the response the student was expecting, and Clover had to suppress a proud snicker.
Qrow shrugged. To anyone else he would have looked bored, but Clover could easily spot the beginnings of a smile, and the excited tapping of his foot, and the warm hint in his voice when he spoke again, “What do you want it to do to your enemies? Burn them? Blind them? Freeze them? Something else?”
Qrow paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “And once you’ve figured that out, think how your new weapon would affect you and others around you. Are you going to have to alter your fighting style? Is there a chance that your weapon will hinder your teammates?”
Clover couldn’t have wiped the stupid smile off his face if he tried. There was silence in the garden, Qrow leaning back on his arms as he observed the students drawing, thinking, or even wandering seemingly aimlessly around the garden. Minutes passed, and whispers started breaking out here and there. Qrow didn’t stop them, instead smiling and nodding encouragingly as some more students seemed to find inspiration together. Sometimes he would point at something on a student’s sketch, but whatever he was saying was obviously only meant for that student, and Clover couldn’t make out the words.
Suddenly, a voice piped up, “Mister Branwen, sir? How did you decide on your weapon?”
Qrow seemed taken aback by the question for a moment, but composed himself quickly.
“Ah that’s a good question,” he started and pushed himself up to sit taller, subtly bringing everyone’s attention to himself. “But I’m afraid the answer is that I was a very stupid and stubborn teenager who didn’t know when to give up and modeled my weapon after a Huntress I admired. Despite having no idea how to use a scythe and never meeting anyone who could properly teach me. Not the way I would recommend, but hey, it worked out for me, so it can’t be that bad, right?”
The students laughed, and someone came closer to ask something that Clover didn’t quite hear, but it must have been about Harbinger, because Qrow picked the sword from the ground and started showing her different forms, adding a little flare to each movement, his words getting lost in the students’ loud cheers.
Clover leaned closer to the glass, drinking in each perfectly timed, fluid motion with the same eagerness as the students. The room erupted in applause as Qrow folded Harbinger back to her compact form and bowed to the delighted audience.
And then Qrow straightened up, his gaze darting towards the doors for a moment and immediately meeting Clover’s.
Qrow’s eyes widened in surprise, but soon that expression was replaced with a mischievous smile. After a moment of thought, Qrow got up and looked around. “I’m gonna go stretch my legs for a bit. Keep up the good work,” he said, and then disappeared behind the trees, much to Clover’s disappointment.
Clover kept watching the garden for a few minutes, hoping to catch another glimpse of the other Huntsman. Finally, he turned around to leave — only to nearly crash into Qrow himself.
No, Clover did not squeak. However, he wouldn’t deny that he was surprised. A little.
Qrow smirked, “Spying on me, Lucky Charm? Didn’t think it was your style.”
Clover’s brain short-circuited and had to restart, much to Qrow’s amusement. “No! I, uh… Just wanted to check on you. How did you… You went the other way?”
Later, much later, Clover would remember the large windows on the other side of the garden, how Qrow could turn into a bird, and would connect the dots. However, Qrow didn’t let him gather his thoughts, bowed in the most elaborate manner and presented him with a soft pink cyclamen flower that he proceeded to tuck behind Clover’s ear.
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Clover blinked stupidly, thrown for a loop, and Qrow graced him with a sweet smile, nodding at the flower.
“Rakefets were blooming. I thought you’d look pretty with one.”
Clover swallowed around the sudden dryness of his throat and watched as Qrow turned and reached for the door of the garden, then stopped. He looked back at Clover, showing off the curve of his neck with carefully calculated nonchalance. “You know, if you wanted to see me, all you had to do was ask.”
And with those words, he left Clover alone in the corridor. Soon, Qrow was surrounded by students again and lively chatter broke out.
Clover took a moment to calm his giddy heart and took a step back away from the winter garden. There was nothing to fear, in fact, Ironwood’s earlier worries seemed nearly laughable. As always, Qrow was far more reliable than many gave him credit for, and the thought filled Clover’s heart with warmth.
Qrow’s voice followed his every step, deep and soothing. But even as it got more muffled by the distance, Clover’s determination grew.
It was about time he asked Qrow out on a proper date, schedules and responsibilities be damned. And if he went to the rest of that day’s meetings with a flower in his hair — well, no one could blame him for that.