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The last thing Qrow remembered as he was flying over the grounds of Atlas Academy was a heavy gust of wind blowing him straight into the side of a building.
When he awoke, he was still avian, his body aching and his mind sluggish. He was pretty sure his Aura had been reduced to nothing, and he really didn’t want to stretch out and test for anything broken.
Besides, he was moving... he was being moved. Was he being carried? It was hard to tell, with each thought trickling through his head like grains of sand through the thinnest hourglass. But Qrow could feel warmth. He felt secure, safe. He was surrounded by the scent of cologne, warmed leather, fresh summer fields... for a moment he thought he was back in Patch, preening his feathers on a sunny spot in the back garden.
Qrow used his beak to prop his head up on... an arm. He was being carried. Through half-closed eyes, he gazed up at both an alarming and soothing sight.
Clover. He was being carried by Clover.
He looked calm. Then again, he always looked calm. And happy, and... gorgeous. Ever since they arrived in Atlas, Qrow had found it increasingly hard to hold himself together around the man. He was cocky, but he was sweet too. He was good to the kids, good to Ruby and Yang, so much more than the tin soldier Qrow was expecting.
And he was... gods, he was dreamy. He was muscular and tall, but not like other soldiers, definitely not like James. Clover had a softness to his form, he looked comforting, as though it would be so easy for Qrow to simply nuzzle into the man and hide away from the cold of Solitas. He couldn’t believe how beautiful he was when Qrow first saw him, how hard it was to fight for any coherent thought when he was gazing up at the Captain. He thought he might drown in those oceanic eyes. He almost wanted to.
Those eyes darted down to look at Qrow, and he squawked.
But Clover only smiled as he cradled the bird. “Sh, sshhh, it’s okay. You’re gonna be alright, baby bird.”
Qrow was glad he was covered in feathers, or else Clover would have been able to see the bright pink flush that bloomed over him. What Clover could see, however, was how Qrow became overcome with fluff as his feathers puffed out around him. He let out a timid croak.
Clover simply chuckled, unlocking the door to his room. His room... Qrow was in Clover’s room.
He hid away in his tuft of feathers, trying to figure out a way out of this. Maybe he could peck Clover and fly out? But the window wasn’t open, and the door was shut behind them now. And he was still far too weak to really do anything... and he really didn’t want to peck Clover.
Clover sat down at his desk and let the crow settle in his lap. His thighs were so warm and firm. Qrow couldn’t stop his feathers from puffing up again. Gods, he needed to pull himself together; he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Even the kids didn’t act this giddy. It was ridiculous.
But that didn’t stop the fact that Clover’s thighs were so, so warm. But Qrow wasn’t just atop his thighs.
“Aw, you cold?” Clover, completely oblivious to the complete breakdown Qrow was having, reached over to grab a scarf he seldom used, and bundled it around the bird. “Dr Polendina said you must have been stunned earlier during that storm. Poor thing.”
Qrow gingerly flexed his wings under the scarf, but nothing felt broken. He supposed he should count himself lucky.
“Good thing you’ve got me looking after you.” Clover’s voice, his smile, was enough to get Qrow’s attention once again. And he supposed it couldn’t be too much harm to just sit here in the comfort of Clover’s warmth a little longer... only until he was recovered, of course.
So, as Clover began to respond to emails, fill out reports of the day, Qrow sat nestled within the scarf. And to his delight, Clover would stop from time to time to rub his fingers into the soft of Qrow’s head, to stroke along his beak. Qrow found himself lifting his head happily for Clover to scratch at his chin, ruffle his chest until Qrow was melting into his touch. Oh, it was wonderful. He hadn’t had attention on him like this in so long, definitely not in his avian form. If Clover went too long without giving the bird any attention, Qrow could lightly peck at Clover’s hands as he typed away, and Clover would chuckle before going back to spoiling Qrow. Qrow loved the airy rumble of Clover’s laughter. It was cheeky, and he adored it.
A part of Qrow felt guilt though; Clover had no idea this was him, his fighting partner (though he was curious as to why James hadn’t told him...). Wasn’t this a betrayal of trust? Surely, he’d have to fess up sooner or later, right? But as Qrow looked up at Clover’s content face, it became more and more clear he might not have it in him to do so. Selfish as it was, he enjoyed this affection he’d been so dearly deprived of, and he doubted he’d ever get attention like this from the Captain ever again. There was no harm in this little indulgence, was there? Not if he could simply fly out the window once he was ready, and head back out to the field the following day as if nothing had happened.
Would Qrow be able to, though? Now that he knew the way Clover could warm him, the tenderness that the Captain was clearly capable of showing... Qrow accepted the miserable reality that not only was he never going to have this attention again, but he was also never going to be able to forget what it was like.
“It’s okay, pretty bird.” Clover cooed softly, oblivious to Qrow’s internal sorrows. From the outside, all he could see was an injured bird snuggling sorrowfully into his hand.
Qrow let out a soft croak, and Clover smiled a smile that could win awards.
“You are a little beauty, aren’t you? We don’t usually get birds up this high... where did you come from?” Clover lifted the bird gently until Qrow was being held against Clover’s chest. Qrow fluffed up again and withdrew into the scarf until all that remained of him was his beak. “I really must be lucky, getting to see a lovely bird like you on my day off.”
The only noise that came from within the scarf was a quiet “brr”, and Qrow found himself being carried once again.
All too soon, Clover was propping Qrow down on the window and opening the glass, peeling away the layers of the scarf until Qrow was hit with the icy wind outside. His heart sank. Was it already over?
He looked out at the winds and sleet, and back up at Clover. Clover smiled, giving Qrow’s tail a little nudge. “Go on, then. Go find your other bird friends.”
Qrow hesitated; he wasn’t sure if he was ready to leave this warmth just yet. He stepped out of the confines of the scarf and flew, but not out the window. Instead he swerved around Clover and landed on the foot of his bed where he perched stubbornly. He was a bird right now – he was allowed to be a bit naughty.
Clover raised an eyebrow, before gesturing back to the window. “Well you’re clearly not injured anymore. Go on.”
Qrow stayed put. For once he was going to put what he wanted first and gods be damned he wanted head scratchies.
Clover frowned, before sighing and shutting the window before the room became too cold. “Fine. Just a little longer. But I hope I don’t find you sleeping outside my window tonight.”
Clover sat on the bed, kicking off his boots as Qrow let out a celebratory chirrup. The Captain chuckled as the bird sang, taking out his scroll and snapping a photo of Qrow – which Qrow found horrifying. He squawked and hopped across the bed, trying to peck at the scroll. Clover, shocked at the bird’s antics, held the phone above his head. “Hey! Easy! It’s not food! Is that what you want? Food?”
Qrow squawked once again in indignation.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Clover got up, tucking his scroll into his back pocket and making the short trip to his kitchenette. When he glanced over his shoulder, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of the bird following in his footsteps, walking as though it were a person. He smiled as he turned to properly address his new little shadow. “You know, they all say it’s bad to feed birds because they’ll keep coming back...” He reached into a cupboard and pulled out a box of salted crackers, “but I wouldn’t mind if I saw you again.”
Qrow tried to remind himself it wasn’t personal. It wasn’t Qrow that Clover was talking to. But it was hard when Clover was gazing right into his eyes with that sweet expression that made Qrow’s heart skip.
Clover seemed to enjoy having the bird follow him about, but he did eventually return to the bed, and he held out a handful of crackers to the bird. Qrow was more than happy to flutter back onto Clover’s leg, only to see the man wince as his talons dug into his leg. Qrow cringed with guilt, keeping his movements purposely gentle as he shifted, trying not to dig any deeper. But Clover didn’t seem to mind too much, instead moving to hold out a cracker shard to Qrow. Qrow hadn’t ever accepted food from someone’s hand, but he didn’t want to disappoint Clover...
He accepted the surreal reality of the situation, and began to peck away, glancing up at the Captain from time to time to make sure he was still smiling. Which he was.
Once done with the crackers, Clover leaned back into his bed, watching the bird. “Think it’s about time for you to leave?”
Qrow sat down on Clover’s abdomen stubbornly.
Clover smirked. “What do you want, exactly...?”
Like a dog, Qrow rolled onto his back. His little clawed feet stood straight up in the air. Clover laughed properly, laying back against the pillow and rolling his fingers delicately though Qrow’s feathers, trying his best not to go against the current that the feathers grew in.
“You’re a funny bird. Are you domestic? Do you have an owner?” Clover knew he wasn’t going to get a reply, so he just continued ruffling Qrow’s feathers lovingly, stroking along his belly, playing with his beak and fiddling with his little feet. And Qrow was in heaven.
Qrow simply basked in the affection, shutting his eyes and croaking with glee. Clover was so tender with him, it was wonderful – especially after Qrow had seen what damage those hands were capable of. Qrow wanted to think this was an affection Clover was preserving for him – him, and not the bird. But he knew the truth; it was nothing to do with Qrow. From Clover’s perspective, he was just cuddling an animal. The sooner Qrow accepted that, the easier it would be to say goodbye to this.
Clover’s hand slowed. Qrow opened his eyes to glance at Clover in confusion, to find that the man was falling asleep. Qrow let out a shrill complaint, and those seafoam eyes flashed open again. Qrow lightly grazed his beak against Clover’s fingertips, and Clover smiled apologetically. “Come on, I’m tired.”
Qrow scrambled onto his feet and cawed, pushing himself into Clover’s hand. Clover sighed, grunting as he sat up. “Oh come on, you don’t know how tiring it is leading my team, and those kids and their boundless energy and...” Then, Clover shut his eyes and smiled to himself.
Qrow cocked his head to one side curiously, listening to Clover’s every word.
“And... the most incredible Huntsman I’ve ever met.” Clover’s smile turned bashful.
Qrow stilled. He wasn’t... there was no way Clover was talking about him... right?
Clover leaned forward, opening his eyes again to address the bird. “You can keep a secret, right? Well, I have a confession to make to you.”
Qrow gazed up at Clover as he listened, trying to remember to keep his heart from bursting through his chest, to keep his beak from falling open.
“Well... I’m fairly sure I’ve fallen head over heels for the new Huntsman, the one who came here a few months ago.” Clover admitted, the sweetest shade of pink blossoming over his cheeks. Qrow was finally close enough to be able to see the faintest smattering of freckles as they darkened with the blush. “He’s wonderful... he’s pretty too, like you.” Clover scratched under the bird’s chin, not noticing how his new friend didn’t react in the slightest.
Clover leaned back into the bed, and Qrow crept slowly across the Captain’s belly.
“Qrow Branwen, the famous Huntsman. He lives up to the rumours.” Qrow’s heart was pounding in his tiny ribcage. It was him!
Clover continued, ignorant to Qrow’s burst of joy flourishing within him. “You should see how he fights, he puts me to shame. But when he’s not fighting, he’s... so clumsy. Gods, it’s adorable. And he’s snarky.” Clover chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been working up the courage all week to ask him out on a date, I dunno, lunch or a movie or...” Clover sighed. “I don’t know, birdie. Maybe I’m just not his type.”
Perhaps Qrow should have thought about it more, but he didn’t. Perhaps he should have done it differently, but he didn’t. What he did do, though, was transform directly on Clover’s lap, scaring Clover into dead silence.
Qrow settled and smirked, and bit his bottom lip. “I have a confession too.”