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Clover wouldn’t exactly say he’d had expectations for Qrow’s outfit that night. He was honestly just glad he’d gotten the older huntsman to agree to come at all, and he knew that Qrow would most likely not be particularly excited about dressing up. But he’d heard the kids talking about helping him pick something out, so maybe there’d be a little extra flashiness. He knew though that, no matter what Qrow wore, his partner would be the center of his attention. Hell, if he just wore his usual vest and cape, and looked as amazing as he did every day, Clover would be more than content.
Clover was eager for the night ahead of him. He knew he wasn’t subtle in his fondness for his new partner; he hadn’t been from the start. But, as the two had grown to know each other better, Qrow had started to open up. It wasn’t long before Clover was sure that all their banter, their easy chemistry, was proof that his interest wasn’t one-sided. But Qrow was still Qrow. He was still guarded, and Clover knew that that could mean it’d be best to let things happen slowly; allow this tiptoeing around the spark of something between them to drag on a little longer until Qrow was truly ready.
But he couldn’t help but be excited about the opportunity the ball gave him. A night of opulence, of proximity, and a sense of serenity that was all too rare in both of their lives. It might not be the night to move forward, but at the very least it could be a chance for Clover to make his own feelings clearer; an excuse to fawn over the man, who still didn’t quite see how singularly important he was to him. Regardless of Qrow’s attire, Clover intended to treat him as nothing less than extraordinary.
No, he hadn’t had expectations exactly. But he certainly hadn’t expected to see his partner enter behind his gaggle of kids, in a full-length cloak that completely enveloped him and pooled gracefully around his feet.
Clover didn’t move - just stared, a fuzziness gathering in his head - as Qrow spotted him and glided towards him. He was nearly ethereal in his movement; his feet completely obscured by the heavy, flowing, drape of the fabric.
As he drew closer, Clover noticed a few things all at once.
The dark but subtle outline around his eyes, with a crisp gold drawn out from the corners, and a hint of smoky emerald smoothed across his eyelids. And how the color around his lashes made the alluring rust of his irises shine deeper, heavier. The intensity it lent to Qrow’s gaze made it feel like that simple, innocent, look alone would drag Clover down through the floor and sink him into that warm crimson depth; a fate he knew he would never mind succumbing to.
The matte, deep red gut punch that was his lips, plush, and dangerously enticing. Dark rich color contrasting against his cool pale skin, and the subtle shadow of stubble along his jaw. A complementing dash of color brushed along his cheeks, along with a delicate shimmer that perfectly accented the sharp, fine contours of his face.
His long, thin, fingers were tipped with a dark shimmering green polish. Gold bangles had replaced his typical leather cuff, and they connected to delicate swirls of filigreed metal curling around his fingers. Gold and black earrings lined his ears, in intricate cuffs and subtle studs. From one lobe hung a thin black cross, and along the curve of his other ear rested a fine gold feather, tipped with vibrant glints of crimson facets.
His hair was as fluffy as ever, but seemed to be slightly more groomed; his bangs pushed back so that only a few perfectly placed strands hung over his brow. Sweet brothers, what Clover would have done to brush his fingers through it; give the slender man back a bit of his usual disheveled charm that always floored the Atlesian so thoroughly. But his heart also raced slightly at the sophisticated air that surrounded him with his hair up like that.
And, while Qrow was usually practically the same height as him, Clover now had to angle his chin up, just the tiniest bit, to meet his eyes, as the man stood a few inches taller.
That last realization must have been the most obvious thing on his face because Qrow scratched the back of his neck abashedly as he came to stand in front of Clover.
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Qrow had been a little anxious about the entire thing. This was certainly an outfit . And certainly, one that no one would ever call inconspicuous. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it was just... very different. Though, he thought he might understand Winter’s entire demeanor a bit better now: there was something very powerful in the tight, buttoned-up - while still somehow uniquely personal - style that the Atlas elite seemed to favor so much. By the time the kids had talked him into the look - makeup, heels, and all - and they had arrived at the event, his nerves had settled considerably, but he still wouldn’t say he was overly confident.
And the moment he caught Clover’s eyes, that uncertainty had bubbled up in his chest again. He pushed it down, steeling his resolve.
He looked good. He knew he looked good. It just felt a little odd, but he wouldn’t let that overwhelm him. He focused on the click of his heels, the shuffle of his cloak, and the feel of thin billowing fabric underneath, held tight against his form by the fitted layers.
Qrow watched Clover as he walked up, slowly taking in his attire.
His regular vest had been swapped out for a perfectly fitted, high collared waistcoat - Qrow would almost say corset, by the lacing that trailed up the sides - the green and auburn fabric gilded by trailing floral embroidery motifs. From the side, the vest splayed a layered tail over one hip; thin fabric cascading down to accentuate the curve of Clover’s thigh. Under the waistcoat, a set of crisscrossed belts sat snuggly over black trousers, that themselves seemed to have the faintest hint of leather running down the sides, before disappearing into tightly laced boots, which were accented with emerald and gold patterns.
He was used to seeing the Ace Ops captain look put together, professional. But this was different. This was… suave.
Qrow ducked his eyes and pawed at the back of his neck as he reached his partner, who was now just a few inches shorter than him.
“I told the girls the heels were a bit much, even if it is only a couple of inches.”
Clover shook the shock off quickly and beamed, his eyes fixed on Qrow’s face, not even trying to hide the warm fondness that pooled into his every word.
“I mean, why not go all out? Everyone deserves a little extravagance every now and then…” He paused, eyes flickering over Qrow quickly before meeting his gaze again, the slightest flush brushing over his cheeks.
“I-it suits you.”
Qrow seemed to find that amusing for some reason and Clover barely caught him mumble “Yeah. A little extravagance.” as he fiddled with a clasp on the front of his cloak, looking away from Clover to hide the heat rising on his own cheeks.
Clover finally moved, walking behind him and laying his hand gently on his shoulder.
“Here, want some help with that?”
Qrow grinned again, at some secret joke that Clover was desperate to be let in on. “Go right ahead, Shamrock.”
Clover chuckled and then frowned slightly as he fumbled at the intricate clasp for a moment as well. He moved back to Qrow’s front, before finally getting the trail of hooks free and letting the clasp fall open.
“Where did you even find this?” He asked as he shifted behind him once more, fingers carefully pulling the garment up and out so that Qrow could slip his arms free.
“I was told that determined teenagers had their ways and, honestly, I was too afraid to ask anything further,” Qrow answered, his voice a little airy with nerves as he felt Clover’s eyes on him.
There was still a bit of self-consciousness fluttering in Qrow’s chest; that he’d let the kids run too wild. That it was too much, not necessarily inappropriate, but maybe verging on trying too hard.
That was until he saw Clover’s expression after he helped him shrug the cloak from his shoulders.
As he pulled the cloak away, Clover glanced down, draping it over his arm carefully. When he looked back to Qrow, the captain felt his pulse stammer.
He could see Qrow’s shoulder blades underneath the cascading sheer fabric of the floor-length cape that gently capped his shoulders - which flowed over barely-there sleeves that clung to his arms before ending in a tight cuff at his wrists- and then fastened with a clasp at the front of his collar.
A collar, high up against his throat, which curved open and then slowly back in, to form a plunging neckline. The delicate, form-fitting, vest-back started just below his shoulder blades and pulled in tight at his waist, fastening elegantly in the front. A front where the neckline faded seamlessly into a nearly transparent, shimmering, lace that clung to his collarbones as if it had always been there.
At the subtle curve of his hips, the fabric bloomed out, falling around him in elegant curves effortlessly. Another layer peeked from the bottom of the vest, thin and wispy, parted up the middle just enough to show the dark thigh high stockings, shimmering with velvet patterns over sheer mesh, and the almost knee-high, lace-edged, boots they tucked into.
Clover’s mouth felt dry as Qrow faced him, and he jumped slightly when a slender hand reached for the cloak draped over his arm; Qrow taking it and moving to lay it gently over the back of a chair at a nearby empty table.
He met Qrow’s mind-numbing gaze as the older man returned and fought off a small smirk, his cheeks red with more than makeup.
“So… yeah… Maybe more than a little extravagant…” He chuckled anxiously, as Clover remained silent.
“The kids kind of had a field day… I should have had them tone it down a little, I guess. It’s… a lot.” He spoke, his voice feeling flimsy and exposed.
“Y-you look -” Clover scrambled for the right word. Spectacular. Breath-taking. Glorious. Beautiful. Stunning. Magnificent. Extraordinary. Splendid. Wonderful. Everything felt too small, and too big, too forward, all at once. Finally, he settled, his voice soft and thick with every word he wasn’t saying.
“You look absolutely amazing, Qrow.”
Qrow’s flush deepened, his breath catching as he met Clover’s gaze, tender and sincere.
His thumb flicked absentmindedly at the delicate metal wrapped around his finger, where his rings usually sat, as he looked away and cleared his throat. Finally, he looked back up at Clover, a smile stuck somewhere between snarky and coy pulling at his lips.
“You don’t look half bad, yourself, boy scout. Though it’s no surprise you clean up well.” Qrow quipped fondly.
There was a split moment of palpable tension between them; a hesitant expectation for the other to move first.
Finally, Clover held his hand out to Qrow, bowing slightly. His eyes slowly trailed back up to meet Qrow’s, in a way that had the older man’s heart stuttering.
“Would you do me the honor, Huntsman Branwen?” His voice was honey-rich, soft, safe.
Qrow could feel his usual bashfulness at Clover’s playful quips - or rather, his flirting - rising up.
But, he thought, the kids might be onto something after all about that whole ‘a killer look gives you confidence’ thing they’d pestered him over. Because the nerves settled quietly and he managed a casually quirked eyebrow in response, jutting a hip out, and crossing his arms.
“I thought you were still on patrol, Captain Ebi.” He mused, throwing Clover’s teasing tone back at him.
Clover narrowed his eyes and smirked devilishly as he slowly straightened, using the movement to subtly take a step closer to Qrow.
“There’s this surprising aspect of dancing that few people actually know.” His voice was a slow, even drawl, as he held his elbow out beside Qrow and nodded his head towards the middle of the room.
“Where you, in fact, move around the room as you dance, which happens to provide a great opportunity for one to keep an eye on things!”
He preened proudly as Qrow finally took his arm, even as the man rolled his eyes.
“ While managing to have a bit of fun as well.” the brunet finished, as he led them further onto the comfortably crowded dance floor.
“Do you usually get people to dance with you by being a smartass?” Qrow asked briskly, though his smile gave him away.
“Only when I know it’ll work,” Clover replied, bringing them to a stop in the dead center of the room, before turning to face Qrow.
“Do you want to lead or shall I?” Clover’s voice was a little puffed up, obviously putting on an added air of mocking formality, already amused with himself.
Which, Qrow hated to admit, was quite endearing.
“I wouldn’t want to bruise your reputation as an authority figure.” It was a dull jab.
“You underestimate my flexibility in the field, Qrow. I take whatever role assures the best chance of success.” Clover went from feigned offense to a causal, firm, nod.
Qrow was quiet. He wasn’t going to admit that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He’d been told by a very select few over the years that he was quick, graceful, in battle. But he knew that didn’t always translate to everyday activities. Though, this certainly wasn’t an everyday occasion.
“Then, if you insist.” Clover smiled when Qrow failed to respond, before taking Qrow’s hand in his and placing the other modestly on the upper part of the small of his back.
His timing was exceptional, a new song starting right as they settled. Qrow could tell it was intentional, what with the proud smile Clover gave him as he started to guide them into the rhythm.
Thankfully, it was a slower, but not slow song and Qrow was able to follow Clover’s gentle guidance easily. He did keep looking down at his feet, watching; sure he’d manage to jab Clover’s foot at any moment with one of his heels. As he looked down, his hand would instinctively, unknowingly, move a little further up Clover’s shoulder for leverage.
Clover was almost glad he kept looking away so that he didn’t notice the flush rising up his neck.
As the song crested to an energetic coda, Clover pulled Qrow the tiniest bit closer by the waist and spoke softly.
“Don’t be so tense. It’s like a battle. Take the momentum and energy your partner supplies…”
And then he was spinning Qrow, his hand wrapping around his back and throwing him out by the waist, their hands parting for just a moment before Qrow spun fully and Clover caught his opposite wrist.
Qrow was over the initial shock almost instantly, battle reflexes kicking in as he let his body turn; cutting through the air, his hand twisting to grip Clover’s forearm as he planted his feet at the apex of the move. And then, with the slightest twitch from Clover’s forefinger on the inside of his wrist, they both pulled back in towards the other. The Atlesian loosened his grip and adjusted, twirling his hand smoothly to cup Qrow’s against his shoulder, so that when Qrow met him again, it was with his back pressed firmly to Clover’s chest, who then hooked his other hand over Qrow’s hip.
“And then use it to bolster your attack.” His voice sounded the slightest bit less composed than when he’d started, as Qrow looked up at him over his shoulder. Qrow noticed but didn’t let himself linger on the fact that Clover’s eyes darted away from his lips right as he caught him staring.
Clover let go of Qrow’s hip and turned them so that they were back as they’d begun, though Qrow’s hand might have been closer to the back of Clover’s neck than on his shoulder where it had started, and Clover’s might have rested squarely in the low curve of Qrow’s back.
“Okay, maybe you're right. This is a little fun.” Qrow conceded, grinning softly and glancing at his partner from the corner of his eye.
The song ended quietly and seamlessly moved into the next; a calmer, simpler tune that had the two gliding gently for a while.
“I’m honored to be able to have such a sway over the famed Qrow Branwen’s opinion.” Clover lilted, punctuating his word with a particularly dramatic swaying pull.
“You are actually hopeless, you know that?” Qrow chuckled, easily following the other man’s motion.
He kept looking at his feet, now not because he was worried about missing a step, but because Clover’s eyes were glued to his face, and the heat in his cheeks was begging him to find something to be distracted by.
His eyes wandered until a flash of black and gold moved in the corner of his view, and he saw Yang and Blake through a part in the crowd. Yang caught his eye and grinned, throwing up an ‘okay’ sign with her prosthetic, which was covered by a black leather glove much like the ones Clover usually wore. And then they were blocked by another couple. But Qrow was sure he could make out the sound of Blake giggling and reprimanding his niece.
“Yang! If you drop me, I swear...”
“What!? What have I done for you to have so little faith in me?” the blonde replied playfully.
Qrow returned his focus to Clover, only to find that he still hadn’t stopped staring. How did he feel so warm and at ease, and worryingly lightheaded under that gaze, all at the same time?
Something had to change.
That look; how he felt under that look, wasn’t a good idea. It was a very, very, astoundingly bad idea in fact.
And then the older huntsman had to repress a chuckle and smirk, as the thought came to him.
It was also a bad idea, he knew. But something about that look that Clover gave him, about his gentle, prodding teasing, always stirred this heady, reckless confidence in Qrow that made him doubt how bad those ideas really were.
He paced with Clover a little while longer, waiting for the perfect moment. And then he felt the gentle swell of the music and made his move.
His hand left Clover’s shoulder, darting to wrap around his waist with the lightning-fast reflexes he was famous for in battle. He planted one foot to his side and the other right behind Clover’s heel, nudging just enough to push one foot slightly out from under him, disrupting his balance. The soldier’s eyes went wide with surprise, Qrow’s own smile beaming, as he fell back. And then, with a gentle fall and bounce, Qrow was supporting Clover’s back with one hand, the other curled around his wrist pulling him up towards him, leaning over him - so their chests were flush against each other - in a deftly executed dip.
“So, Captain. What happened to keeping an eye on the room , hmm?” Qrow purred, his confidence surging at the sight of Clover looking up at him, eyes wide with surprise.
Clover stared at him, a deer in the headlights, his face redder than Qrow had ever seen. That flustered, shocked, expression burned into his mind. His chest was bubbling with an almost giddy pride at being able to affect Clover at all like how the man could affect him.
Up that close, highlighted by his warmed complexion, Qrow noticed that Clover had the faintest spray of freckles. Tiny constellations of subtle brown pigment that trailed over his nose and spread out along his cheekbones. Eddies of delicately dotted clusters that flowed down the curve of his neck, disappearing under his vest, down his chest, and along the sculpted swell of his shoulders and arms. That tiny detail pushed him over; the forwardness of his action crashing over him all at once and sending a spike of flush to his cheeks as well. Luckily he kept his composure enough to maintain the hold.
But Clover noticed the color flood his cheeks and smirked, bringing his loose hand up to Qrow’s throat, and gently snapping together the closure to his collar, which had come undone without him realizing.
Teal eyes locked with crimson as Clover let his thumb barely graze over Qrow’s collarbone as he clicked the clasp together, grinning devilishly.
“ What indeed.” The words dripped with intent, languid, and laced with a daring sense of escalation.
That was his limit.
Qrow pulled them back up then, moving to retreat as soon as they were steady.
But Clover pulled him forward by the hip for the slightest moment, their faces mere inches apart.
His eyes dropped back to Qrow’s lips and he smirked again, teal meeting rust once more. And then he pulled away completely, turning from Qrow.
“You’re right. I really should be getting back to work. Have a good rest of the night, Qrow!” Clover’s voice lilted knowingly, as he watched Qrow process the sudden space between them.
He looked over his shoulder one last time and smiled, kindly, genuinely, sweetly, before slipping from the room.
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Qrow stood there shocked, stone still, except for his racing heart.
Why had he done that? Why did he let Clover’s shameless teasing have such an effect on him, and make him stupid enough to do that ?
He felt so warm, smooth, loose.
It was a good feeling. A really good feeling. And yet a part of him curled in his stomach, threatening to make him sick.
He shouldn’t have done that. Really shouldn’t have done that. He’d gotten carried away and the possible consequences of his action twisted painfully in his gut.
He quickly spotted his abandoned cloak, thankfully at a table that was in a mostly empty part of the room, and made a beeline to it.
Just steps away he faltered, as one of his heels snapped. Because of course it did.
He limped to the chair and slumped down, pulling both shoes off and tossing them onto the bare table beside him. He rested his elbow on one knee and his chin in his palm, sighing heavily.
He’d just wait there until the kids were ready to head back to the school. He’d done enough damage to the fragile happiness he’d started to find here in Atlas for one night.
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Clover slipped past the door, onto a (luckily) empty balcony. He braced himself against the railing, staring out over the snow-glow filled Atlas night.
What. The fuck. Was. That?
He wondered blissfully.
Qrow had been returning some of his teasing jabs and pleased smiles more lately. But that.
Clover was sure he would never catch his breath from that .
He felt a little bad for leaving Qrow like that, but he'd apologize later. Right that moment he'd had to get some distance; think about what just happened, what it meant. And what he should do next.
He turned, sliding down to the floor, his legs splaying out in front of him as he dragged a palm heavily across his face, before dropping his head back, hand falling exasperatedly onto the crown of his head.
He was beaming stupidly, barely holding back an actual giggle.
He was in so much trouble.
He’d never been so giddy in his life.
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Qrow tried not to think about how much a drink would help quell this train of thought as he waited for the kids to be ready to leave. He rubbed at his hand frustratedly, after it twitched with the muscle memory of reaching into his vest for his flask.
Why did everything in his life always have to be so complicated?
He was happy.
That was incredibly dumb and embarrassing.
But, the look on Clover’s face - just Clover in general - had filled his chest with a cascading bubbly warmth that he only knew to call glee.
It could just be that. It could end there.
Except this was him.
The happy never just stopped there.
The bubbly heat soon turned into stifling unease. Insecurity. Worry. Guilt. Grief.
It was really that last one, he knew. He knew the constant companion too well by now to fall for its array of complex disguises.
Or rather; he still fell for them. He just did so, knowing all the while the ploy behind it. But he could never fend it off fully, no matter how aware he was.
He sat there for a while longer, his eyes flickering every so often as one of the kids moved his way. Something stiffened in his chest anxiously, until they continued on; laughing and pulling and dancing with a levity that Qrow cherished. There was a gracious gift in their small moment of fun. Every chance they got to just be kids was something precious to Qrow, something he hoped would never end. Something he told himself he didn’t envy, didn’t wish he could have again, even if only for a moment.
Eventually, he saw the group gathering at the door and started to stand to follow them. But as he did, his eyes found their way to the door that Clover had slipped through, and never reentered from.
The knot in his stomach tangled tighter as he paused, trying to decide what to do. He balked at the idea of facing Clover right then, of blatantly acknowledging his earlier actions. But that dread was leagues better than the despondent fear that clung to his skin at the thought of doing nothing, and finding later that he’d marred a partnership that he had come to cherish, despite his better judgment.
He caught Yang’s eye and motioned for them to go on, that he’d be right along, before slowly making his way to the door that would lead to his partner. He took a deep breath and… panicked, his heart stampeding in his chest. He backed up, turning, and finding his niece again.
“H-hey, firecracker.” he stammered, forcing a calm, collected tone. He held out his cloak and discarded shoes, a little hesitant. He didn’t miss the glint of recognition, kind understanding, in the familiar lilac eyes as he spoke.
“Could you hold onto these for a minute? I… I need to take care of something. I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes.” His voice was gracious and soft, a smile crossing his face as she nodded and gently took the offered items.
Qrow watched as Yang followed the rest of the group outside, before turning himself and finding another door leading to a separate part of the balcony from Clover.
He pushed out into the cool night air and took just enough time to check his surroundings, assure he was alone, before transforming and perching on the railing. He puffed up, ruffling his feathers as the simplicity of the bird eased his anxious thoughts. After a moment, he lifted into the air, gliding around the building languidly, focusing solely on the feel of cool wind brushing through soft down.
He circled around and landed on the roof when he found Clover leaning over the balcony railing, head tilted back to look up into the sky. He noted that his hair seemed a little disheveled. His partner was still looking out over the surrounding tundra, oblivious to the avian form watching him. Finally, Qrow sighed, and flitted towards the floor, grateful that he had ditched the heels as he gracefully, and silently, transformed along the wall by the door.
Qrow took a slow breath and padded up to the brunet silently, long layers of fabric trailing along the floor in the absence of the extra few inches from his heels.
“Hey.”
Clover jolted, turning and looking at Qrow in shock. “Where did you- I have never had someone sneak up on me like that in my life!”
Qrow chuckled hollowly. He slung his arms over the railing beside Clover, not meeting his eyes.
“I mean, I have basically been a spy for the past couple of decades…” the shapeshifter offered. It wasn’t a lie.
They stood in silence for a while, before Clover finally steeled himself, took a deep breath, and dove.
“Qrow, would you like to go to din-” His voice was bright and confidently excited until the deeper, rougher, voice cut him off.
“I should apologize.” Qrow’s words were even, kind, but chilly.
“Uh… sorry?” Clover wilted, suddenly a little less sure of himself.
“For earlier… That.. stunt I pulled on the dance floor. It was… I’m not used to these kinds of big grand events and I just let myself get a little caught up in the absurdity of everything I guess…” He sighed, flicking anxiously at his absent ring as he continued.
“And I made some dumb game out of it. I… I know we… tease.” His voice almost broke on the word, unsure of it, of every little thing he could have misread between them.
“But that was too far. It was... unprofessional. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” As he finished, he kept his gaze straight ahead, afraid to see whatever look might be on his partner’s face.
“I…” Clover was genuinely speechless. He had not seen that coming. He… he was surprised how much that stung. Had he really misread the night that drastically?
“Qrow, you have nothing to apologi-” His soft confusion was interrupted again by an eager voice.
“Uncle Qrow! C’mon! We’re leaving!!” Ruby called from outside the front door, waving enthusiastically before Yang grabbed her wrist and pulled her away. Qrow almost thought he saw her wink back up at him, his things still draped over her arm.
“Just… Look. I’ve really… I’ve enjoyed working with you. I really have. And we… I’ve appreciated how welcome you’ve made me…. all of us, feel… I don’t want tonight to mess that up. Let’s just pretend all that never happened and tomorrow just go back to normal.”
He paused, finally turning and smiling faintly up at Clover “Don’t think that means I’ll start laughing at your shitty puns though.” He stilled again.
“Really though... Just… I don’t want tonight to have changed anything between us. I’d feel awful for that.” The admission was quiet, nervous, bracing to flinch away from any poor reaction to the words.
Clover just pushed down the lump in his throat.
“O-of course not, Qrow. Don’t... Don’t worry about it. Water under the sky-bridge.” He huffed out with a weak chuckle.
Qrow rolled his eyes kindly. “Riiight. Okay then.” A beat of silence passed before he pushed off from the railing, hoping that his voice returned to its normal tone as he spoke.
“Well, I’d better go catch up with those kids. Who knows what chaos they’d cause on their own after getting worked up tonight.” He turned, walking back to the far staircase that led down to the ground floor. He paused at the top, calling back over his shoulder.
“Guess I’ll see you bright and early for that briefing then, Lucky Charm. Get some rest.”
And then he left, his throat dry and a slight burning behind his eyes. He paced his breath with every step, as he told himself that he didn’t know what Clover had been about to ask him. That he didn’t know how badly he wanted to say yes. That he didn’t know now, for sure, that it was more than playful banter, pointed teasing, for both of them.
He told himself that he didn’t know any of that. Because even if he did, it didn’t matter. It was a bad idea. He was a bad idea. By some miracle, he’d gotten a chance at having a partner again, a friend again. And he wasn’t going to let rash, dangerously complicated, emotions risk losing that. Losing Clover. Clover was enough. A partner was enough. A friend was enough.
More than enough.
That lonely ache in his chest, that burned at the tender potential that Clover’s eyes offered him, had been staunchly dismissed for so long at this point. He would just have to work a little harder now. He could do that if it meant being able to keep Clover’s presence at his side, and a safe distance still kept between them.
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Clover stared after Qrow, his pulse thrumming with such a different feeling than the one he’d basked in just moments before. He drew in a slow, shallow breath as he watched Qrow walk off with the kids. He swallowed, pushing down the lump in his throat as he wrestled with the painful, unfamiliar, rejection knotting in his chest.
He didn’t understand. He was sure he couldn’t have misread things so grievously. Not just that night, but all their little moments, tiny glancing moves towards one another.
It stung. It twisted and ate at him because he couldn’t make sense of it.
But he accepted it.
A part of him knew. He knew Qrow well enough, even after such a short time, that he should have known better than to get excited.
The older man was guarded, fiercely so. And the fact that he had opened up to him as much as he had, and so quickly, was something not to be taken lightly. Clover cherished that trust, that connection, that simple but oh so intricate thing that made them work together so smoothly.
And he knew he could come on strong. He knew that, beneath his distant facade, Qrow wanted to belong; to fit in; to please the people around him; to prove himself worthy of any shred of compassion he was shown.
If what they had was all that Qrow wanted, then that was enough. He could push down his own desire, if it meant being able to give the man a stable source of support that he so desperately needed, deserved.
Clover knew he wanted to be there for his partner, however he was needed. And if that was never anything other than partner and friend… well, he’d feel honored to have that earned level of trust from someone so careful with his true nature.
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As both men ended their night - far from one another, and yet heavy on the other’s mind - they both resolved to ignore the invigorating spark that had jumped between them as they danced.
They knew that - regardless of what other desires they had towards the other - what they had already was important. What they were to each other, as partners, as friends, wasn’t anything less than what they might be if they risked that ‘something different’.
Because that’s all it was, different. Not more. Not bigger. Just another layer. And neither would risk what they already had together for only a slim chance at that extra layer.
Regardless of the nature of it, they were partners. And ensuring that they didn’t lose that was the most important thing to both of them.
Everything else could be ignored, for the sake of that central tether keeping them at each other’s side.