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Well. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
It began just as any other day did: a morning briefing, a bitter coffee that no amount of sugar could save, and a group of sleepy-yet-professional Huntsmen and Huntresses trudging out of the small room in single file, ready to take on their missions for the day.
Clover grimaced as he chugged down the last dregs in his cup, the sour concoction burning his throat on the way down. Their mission clearing out a small pod of Grimm wouldn’t last long; he had the utmost confidence that they would be able to finish it up and have the reports in by noon.
The strain on his shoulders agreed with that fact. They had all been working too hard as of late. Having an early debrief and dismissal would do the entire team some good. Hell, even Vine’s close to snapping, he commented silently, watching the normally serene man’s eyebrow twitch as Harriet cut in front of him. If even Vine Zeki was losing his normally calm façade, then something needed to be done.
It was with that thought in mind that he closed up the briefing room behind him, leaving the remnants of their breakfast supplied by the mess hall in a corner of the room so kitchen staff could grab it easily. That was always the last thing on his list, meaning he was good to go; heading over to the main hall, he made his way to his team, mind still preoccupied by the fatigue in his teammates’ eyes, in his own body.
And then, he walked right into Marrow Amin.
Spluttering, he immediately stepped back, righting the younger man before he fell. Once Marrow’s initial shock disappeared, the doleful expression in his eyes returned, leaving him pouting and lonely as he stood in front of a window in the hallway.
Clover raised a brow when the man did not move along as expected. “Is there a problem, Amin?”
Marrow sighed, holding up the ends of his vermillion ascot, the piece hanging limply around his neck, the knot undone. “I don’t know why, but it came loose and I can’t retie it!” he mourned, shoulders hunching over in defeat. As he spoke, his fingers scrabbled to try yet again to redo the normally-elegant knot, but for some reason, it was futile.
After watching the young Faunus man struggle for a minute, his tail growing more and more pitifully curled between his legs, Clover finally had had enough. Their transport was awaiting them. “What’s the issue, Marrow? We’ve got to go.”
The shame was palpable, rolling off the tall, lean figure in waves. “I… theoretically,” he began, clumsy as ever, “I might not be very good at tying it without a proper mirror?” His tail was properly between his legs, the shed fluff getting onto his slacks, contrasting starkly with the blue material.
Wordlessly, Clover pointed at the window by their side. Marrow shook his head sadly. “It’s not the same.”
Rolling his eyes, Clover gave in. “Come here,” he sighed, beckoning the younger over.
Pale blue eyes lit up, a grateful, warm smile pulling Marrow’s cheeks as he obeyed, handing over the ends of his ascot obediently.
It barely took a minute to properly do up the knot which usually sat upon Marrow’s clean-shaven throat. Clover paused for a moment to admire his handiwork before stepping back, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. “Alright, are you-“
And everything stopped.
The crimson of the ascot contrasted perfectly against Marrow’s skin, imbuing chestnut with a rosy glow, high cheekbones dashed with a blush which Clover had never noticed before. What struck him the most, however, was just how icy Marrow’s eyes seemed to be in the light of Atlas Academy’s halls- and yet, the undeniable warmth within them caused a shiver to run up Clover’s spine, for he had never before taken the time to truly look, to see what exactly the man looked like beyond his clumsiness and his battle prowess.
He was oddly handsome. That sentiment only grew, striking Clover like a tidal wave which threatened to sweep him into the depths, once Clover realized that when the younger smiled, as he did now, his lush lips pulling wide and open and sweet, he was even more attractive.
Completely unaware of Clover’s sudden internal turmoil, Marrow felt around for the freshly-made knot and beamed at the elder, all of his mid-twenties youth and energy and life showing as he cried, “Thanks, sir!” With a little salute, he jogged off, wincing as Harriet’s voice echoed around the corner, calling for the younger to hurry up.
Turning to the side, Clover froze yet again as he saw his own reflection in the window- as he noticed the colour lighting up his own normally-stoic face, speckles of red appearing upon his cheeks and ears and across the bridge of his nose-
Brothers, no.
The smile was easy to wipe away- all he had to do was bite the inside of his cheek until it ached. The racing of his heart, however, could not be controlled as easily.
He jogged the rest of the way to meet the others. He needed an excuse for why his heart was pounding in his chest like that, as it was showing up on their team monitors, after all.
Marrow Amin was the mystery that just could not be solved, and it was driving Clover mad.
Despite his best efforts to pretend that that strange, off-kilter encounter with Marrow had been naught but a fever dream, his heart betrayed him each time he ran into the younger man. Whether it was helping the Ace Ops train in their battle centers, honing their skills and working drills to improve their teamwork, to simply seeing one another in the mess hall, Clover found that it took all he had as the days progressed to maintain his cool whenever the younger arrived.
The worst part of it all, however, was that ostensibly, nothing the younger did deserved this kind of reaction. Marrow would drop something on accident and Clover would pick it up, finding a brilliant smile of gratitude awaiting him. Marrow would kill a Grimm which would be creeping up on Clover, and his silly, proud grin would knock Clover off-balance even further. Hell, even when they were training with the entire team, every time Clover praised Marrow for his hard work, the younger would light up so sweetly it stopped Clover’s heart every time.
There was no reason for his heart to race like an adolescent barely able to understand their own desires-
The inside of his cheek eventually became carved out by sharp, determined teeth, his legs instinctively jogging to elevate his heartrate; his body remembering with ease the tricks he had mastered to mask the unwanted, yet unavoidable, feelings which the younger man stirred within him.
“No one else has to redo it-“
“No one else made this mistake,” Clover sighed, pointing back at the stack of completed reports upon his desk. “Now c’mon, get to work. Otherwise, you’ll be here all night, and we have an early briefing tomorrow.”
Marrow’s lips formed a small, glum pout. “Yes sir,” he replied, head hanging low as he trudged back to his desk.
Clover’s chest ached hollowly. He wanted to give Marrow a pass- it was not that big of a mistake, after all- but Harriet had caught his eyes lingering that day, and Elm had commented that he had been training with Marrow more recently, and Vine had mentioned that Marrow seemed happier with Clover around and-
This can’t happen.
So, Clover played his part. He was the strict commander. That was all.
The gift was small, simple. “I thought it suited you,” Marrow said, nothing but earnest friendliness in his tone. He feigned a cool, collected smile as Clover picked up the small wrapped box, removing the paper carefully around it; however, Marrow’s tail wagged excitedly as Clover worked, giving away any attempt the younger could have made to pretend to be cool and contained.
Inside the box was a tiny pin, not unlike the brooch which Clover had worn on his lapel since his days in the Academy. It was of a clover, green glittering iridescently as the light struck the piece. “…what’s the occasion?” he asked, almost numb with shock.
Marrow grinned devilishly, looking far too good for someone who carried the same joy in his face whether he was slaughtering Grimm or eating extra ice cream in the mess hall. “It’s your birthday, right?” At Clover’s blank expression, the younger paused, worry overtaking him in an instant. “Wait- am I the only one who reads the newsletter?”
Clover took in a deep breath, then another. He could see the anticipation shining in Marrow’s pale eyes, the hope and joy practically glowing amongst his darker features.
All of that joy fell away in an instant, however, as he put the pin back in the box. “Thanks, Marrow.”
The box went into his pocket. Marrow’s tail grew limp, his heartbreak on full display. “…no worries! Hope you liked it!” His voice was sorrowful, however.
Watching Marrow walk away with that quiet embarrassment in his gait was shattering. After all, Clover would never wear the pin, true; he would instead keep it in his quarters, guarded safe forever, for he refused to risk losing it. He couldn’t lose this- not if it came from Marrow. He just couldn’t risk wearing it, even if he wanted to.
Not being able to explain the raging storm in his heart to the younger left a sour taste in his mouth. His cheek ached. His teeth were always unforgiving.
“Is something going on with Officer Amin?”
Clover halted, his heart arrested in his chest for a painfully-long moment as his mind jumped into overdrive. Does he know? How did he find out? After all, fraternization within squads were heavily frowned upon- fraternization between the Ace Ops, even more so-
And the power balance between a superior officer and his subordinate…
Clover could lose his rank, his position, his livelihood. Or, even worse, Marrow could lose everything, simply due to backlash for being a Faunus in this position.
…would another head of their team care about Marrow as a person, rather than as a Faunus, the way Clover did?
He couldn’t risk it.
Putting on the calmest smile he could, he replied, “I haven’t noticed anything, sir. He’s performing well, as always.”
James nodded and hummed, looking up from his desk. The somber expression upon his face sent a flash of unease through Clover’s heart. “I’ve been looking over the reports your team has been sending lately, and it seems like Marrow Amin is being held to a slightly different standard.” James’ eyes glinted coldly, brows furrowing as he clasped his hands together, voice terse. “…I hope it’s not because of what I’m afraid it is.”
Clover frowned, confused. Then, it hit him. Straightening his shoulders, he had to take a moment to collect himself, to prevent the simultaneous sigh of relief which longed to slip past his lips and the cry of disbelief that James could ever insinuate that he, Clover Ebi, would profile his own subordinate thanks to his heritage-
“Sir, there is absolutely no issue on my end with him being a Faunus. He’s an excellent soldier. Over these past few months in the Ace Ops, he has more than proved himself,” Clover said. The earnestness in his voice must have been caught, for James’ expression relaxed, encouraging Clover to continue, “Although, I will admit that I have been a little harder on him than the others.”
Steely eyes clouded over again in distrust. Clover took a deep breath. It’s because I-
“There are far more eyes on him than the other members of the Ace Ops,” Clover explained pragmatically, keeping his smile pleasant as ever, hiding away the racing of his heart. “I know he is capable, but we need to ensure that no soldier has any doubts about his abilities.”
James regarded him sagely for a long, quiet moment. Then, he stood, clasping his hands behind his back. “You’ve got a good team, Clover.”
“Yes sir.”
“…don’t let them down.”
Clover swallowed dryly. He would never fail them as a leader, he knew it. But for Marrow-
No. He grit his teeth, clenching his fists, shoving away the ache which was building within his heart. He wanted to-
No. It was time to stop pretending. He wanted Marrow.
He could never have him.
“I won’t, sir.” Those words fell from his lips coldly, chilling his own bones, leaving behind no trace of the cracks in his armour which Marrow had so effortlessly managed to form with his smile, his pure joy, his steadfast manner, his skill as a Huntsman.
Those pale, brilliant, shining blue eyes which always seemed to glow with such life, especially towards Clover.
No. I’m not special. I’m just his leader.
The lines in the sand, separating the desire from the professionalism within their relationship, were molded in stone. He was Marrow’s superior, and that was all Clover would ever be, no matter how much his heart ached otherwise.
He didn’t need to bite down as he said it, though. The ache didn’t seem to leave these days. He probably deserved it.
-fin-