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Qrow carefully made his way down the stairs, one hand gently gliding along the banister, ready to grip it if he lost his footing. His mobility was still more or less okay for his age, but he could feel the stiffness in his hips and knees, and he knew he had to be careful. Both he and Clover wanted to keep sleeping in the upstairs bedroom as long as possible, and he knew that a single misstep could mean the end of that. He supposed in an emergency he could transform into his bird form and catch himself, but these days he wasn’t sure if he trusted his reflexes.
Qrow reached the landing without incident, and padded over to the kitchen to start the coffee. The hardwood floors felt warm beneath his bare feet--the under-floor heating had kicked in overnight. Made sense, Qrow thought, as he glanced out the kitchen window. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen overnight, turning their little corner of Patch a crisp white. Out in the yard, several sparrows had gathered for breakfast on the bird feeder out in the yard. Qrow smiled; he had put great effort into selecting the best seeds for the local flocks. Turning back to the coffee maker, he spooned coffee grounds into the machine, added water to the fill line, and turned it on.
The coffee machine was a beautiful piece of technology, all shiny chrome and softly-glowing Dust components. Several dials sat below a small information screen. It had been an anniversary present from Blake and Yang several years back--he and Clover had been using an old, run-down machine that was too loud and more often than not would result in bitter coffee. The new one promised over a dozen different configurations and brew types, plus settings for different types of coffee beans.
Qrow had learned how to configure the closest thing to basic, normal coffee, and then hadn’t changed the settings in over 3 years.
As the coffee machine sputtered and hummed, Qrow wiggled his toes against the warm floorboards. They had had them put in earlier that year--not normally an expense Qrow would have agreed to. But Qrow had always had poor circulation in his feet, and this year he had started waking up in the middle of the night and going downstairs for water. Eventually, Clover had issued an ultimatum--either they put in heated floors, or Qrow finished the nights on the couch downstairs.
The warm wood floor did feel very nice.
A flurry of chirps brought Qrow’s attention back to the window. A squirrel had started climbing the pole of the feeder, startling and upsetting the birds. Qrow slipped his hand into the pocket of his pajama pants and felt for his oval pin. He focused, and deliberately brushed his fingers over the cool metal filigree and smooth enamel. Out in the yard, a clump of snow on the tree branch overhanging the feeder shifted, and began to slide.
With a soft foomp , the snow fell from the branch, landing directly on top of the squirrel, who had reached the feeder and begun eating the birds’ breakfast. The squirrel bolted from the feeder and shot across the yard, disappearing into the bushes.
Qrow chuckled, as the sparrows cautiously returned to the feeder. The coffee machine finished percolating, and he poured himself a mug, then headed over to the sunroom to watch the birds and enjoy his coffee.
The sunroom was bright and warm in the morning sun, lit by floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the yard. Two armchairs sat in the middle of the room, a small glass table between them. Qrow set his mug down on the table, and carefully lowered himself into his chair.
As he sipped his coffee, Qrow pulled the pin from his pocket. He gently ran his fingers along the crimson enamel, tracing the curving edge of the black metal wing. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, and had held up to heavy use for most of his adult life, ever since Clover had given it to him that day in Mantle, so many years ago. The delicate silver filigree had tarnished slightly over time, despite his efforts to clean and polish it every so often.
He couldn’t have known, then, when Clover had presented it to him, full of remorse and fear, just how much his life would change. How he would learn to control his semblance, and keep his anxiety at bay. Now of course, he knew--finding Clover had been the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him.
And with Salem’s defeat, the good fortune had continued, with year after year of what had been a truly delightful marriage. They had had their bumps of course--Qrow had not learned to love and trust himself overnight. And Clover had need to learn to value his own well-being enough to ask for help, even if it would inconvenience Qrow. Eventually, they had found their happy medium--the right balance of push and pull that kept the marriage functional and dynamic.
Qrow had Clover to thank for this wonderful life he had lived. And he had years with his therapist to thank, once they had settled down long enough for him to find one. And he had himself to thank--he had worked hard to create this life for himself.
Qrow sighed happily, slipped the pin back into his pocket, and curled his hands around the warm coffee mug. The sparrows had finished their breakfast, and were happily flitting from branch to branch, chasing and playing with one another in the fresh snow.
Watching the birds while he sipped his coffee was perhaps his favourite part of retirement. For over 15 years now, he had started every day like this--no more waking up in a tree, or on the ground next to a burned-out campfire, or dragging himself to a too-early mission briefing. Just the morning sun, warm coffee, and happy birds.
Qrow and Clover had bought this place as a retirement gift to themselves--a quaint two-level home with wood-panelled walls, a bit of yard and a bit of forest, and soft furniture. And it was close to Tai, especially important as Tai travelled less and less in his old age. The kids had also moved back to Patch--they insisted they just thought it would be a nice place to raise their children, but Qrow knew that Yang and Ruby also wanted to be around to help Tai, in case he needed them as he got older. Qrow supposed that he and Clover also factored into that, now that they lived here--they would eventually need help, too.
Blake and Yang had a nice apartment in town, now that their children were old enough to leave home and go off to Beacon. They didn’t party as hard as they had when they were 20, but they still liked being near all the shops and entertainment.
Ruby, on the other hand, had settled down with Penny, Oscar, and Weiss (“Team Power”, as they called themselves) on a farm not far from Tai’s estate. It had taken Weiss some time to get used to life on a farm, but the other three had been patient and supportive, and over time the farm had become quite productive. Oscar’s years as a farmhand had made him quite the capable farmer, and Ruby and Penny’s relentless energy had gone a long way to realizing their dreams. Qrow was particularly fond of the jams they sold every Sunday at the market--not to mention the opportunity to greet and play with Ruby’s small horde of children, whose cuteness drove a significant fraction of their booth’s sales. The oldest would be shipping off to Beacon next fall. Qrow hoped she would remember to come home for visits.
Qrow and Clover had never had children of their own--after Salem’s defeat, there had been so much work to do around Remnant, and so few Hunters to do it. By the time things had settled down enough for them to even consider children, Blake and Yang were already talking about having their own kids, and Penny had started downloading books on co-parenting. The thought of raising little ones at the same time as his nieces were raising their own had just felt strange. Playing the role of grandparents alongside Tai had provided them with more than enough happiness, minus all the screaming that came with infants. They had also, this way, managed to avoid most of the drama of the teen years. Mostly. On a few occasions, one of the grandkids had roped Qrow or Clover into a dispute with one of the parents.
Qrow finished his coffee, and set the empty mug on the table. He was happy, that was certain. And that itself a surprise, given that half a lifetime ago, he had thought that such a future was impossible. But he had found peace, and at last the strength to put down his own roots, without worrying that he was putting others in danger.
Soft creaks from the staircase told him that Clover had woken up and made his way downstairs. He looked over his shoulder, and blew a soft kiss to Clover, who grinned and gave a small sheepish wave, the same way he did every morning. Clover was in his usual gray sweats, with a white tank top, and a plaid fleece blanket draped over his shoulders. Clover shuffled over to the coffee pot, pulled a mug from the cabinet, and poured himself some coffee.
“Morning, Cloves,” Qrow said.
“Hm. Will be in a second,” Clover responded. He took a large gulp of his coffee, and sighed. “That’s better.”
Clover made his way into the sunroom, stopping behind Qrow’s chair to gingerly lean down for a kiss. Qrow obligingly tilted his head back, giggling softly as Clover’s white beard tickled his nose. When Clover had grown a beard in his fifties, back when his hair was only starting to gray, Qrow had quietly hidden away his razor. Clover pulled away, and smiled down at Qrow.
“Happy anniversary, my love,” he whispered.
“Is that today?” Qrow asked innocently.
Clover smirked. “Don’t tell me your memory’s going, old man. Forty years.”
“That all?” Qrow replied, grinning. “Feels longer.”
“Very funny,” Clover chuckled, giving Qrow a playful pat on the shoulder before making his way over to his own chair.
“I don’t know, Qrow,” he said, settling into his chair, “I was thinking maybe we should have some fun today, but if you’re getting too old….”
Qrow nudged Clover’s foot with his own. “I was kidding,” he said, “and besides, look who’s talking. I don’t walk with a cane when I leave the house.”
Clover raised an eyebrow as he sipped his coffee. “Oh, you know that wasn’t age. Injuries happen. And besides, Kingfisher was always meant for a support role. After we retired, didn’t feel right just letting it sit.”
Years of acrobatics and bold landing strategies tended to take a toll on the bodies of Hunters. But some, like Clover, favored one of their feet when landing. For Clover, that had meant worn-down cartilage in one ankle, and eventually, an injury that ruled out landing strategies entirely. They’d had Kingfisher converted into a cane by Aurelius, the Atlas artisan who had crafted their engagement rings. Just like the rings, Kingfisher’s new form was a true work of art--and in Qrow’s opinion, it had made Clover undeniably hotter. Oz would have approved of Clover’s cane, too, had he still been around.
“I know, I know,” Qrow teased. “I love you. Just giving you a hard time. What did you have in mind for today?”
“Well,” Clover started, “you know there’s the annual art fair in town. Tai entered a painting. I thought maybe it’d be nice to stop by and say hello, see his new art.”
“Oh, yeah, what’s the new one called again?” Qrow asked. After the kids had started taking on some of the landscaping and gardening responsibilities, Tai had taken up painting in his newfound free time. He had gotten quite good, and frequently brought his art to local exhibits. One of his most beautiful works actually hung on Qrow and Clover’s wall--Harbinger, its large blade painted with the beautiful white and pink mountains of Solitas, set against a vividly blue sky. It had been a gift from Tai for their 25th anniversary.
“I think he said it was called ‘40 Years of Sun’,” Clover replied. “Sunflowers, or something.”
“That’s right,” Qrow said, nodding. It was coming back to him now. “Forty sunflowers. One for each year he didn’t have to worry about his daughters’ safety. Yeah. I think I’d like to see that.”
Clover finished his coffee, and set the mug next to Qrow’s. “Well, that’s about half the day, then. Was there anything you wanted to do, my lovebird?”
Qrow thought for a moment. “Well,” he said, “I heard there was a Grimm sighting near the coast the other day. Some old ursa that managed to hide in a cave all these years.”
“You know we can let the kids handle that,” Clover interjected.
Qrow waved away his objection. “No, I know. I didn’t mean we go find it. But I thought it might be a good opportunity to swing by the school, maybe tell a few stories, remind the kids of what their parents and grandparents went through.”
Clover gave Qrow a stern look. “You know the last time you did that, Jaune said his students couldn’t focus on their homework for two weeks,” he warned.
Qrow chuckled. “Eh, does ‘em good to learn that the world isn’t always safe. Salem’s gone, but still, good to be on your toes.” When Clover continued to glare, Qrow raised his hands in mock surrender. “I kid, we can do that another day.”
Clover gave a small laugh and nodded, leaning back in the armchair. “Alright, then. What else?”
Qrow looked over at his husband, the golden morning light casting shadows in every wrinkle. Wrinkles that Qrow knew well, that over forty years had traced laughs, tears, arguments, and knowing glances. He smiled.
“I thought maybe it’d be nice to spend the morning here, the two of us,” he replied. “We’ve had forty years together, and I still can’t get enough of you.”
“Aw, come here, you old crow,” Clover said, leaning forward out of the chair and puckering his lips across the small table. Qrow grinned and leaned over to kiss his husband.
“I think that sounds nice,” Clover said, settling back into his chair and looking back out at the bird feeder. “I could make pancakes?”
“Perfect. You make the best pancakes,” Qrow replied. As Clover moved to stand up, however, Qrow reached out and took a hold of Clover’s hand. “Not right away, though. Let’s… let’s just enjoy this moment a bit longer. Waking up and having coffee with you, after all these years? It’s the best anniversary present of all.”
Clover smiled warmly. “Agreed. A perfect start to the day,” he said, squeezing Qrow’s hand.
Qrow and Clover settled back in their chairs, holding hands across the small glass table, basking in the warm sunlight. Outside, the birds had fluttered off into the trees, and the squirrel had begun making its way cautiously back to the feeder.
Qrow and Clover had had forty happy years of marriage. And now, in a small home nestled in the forests of Patch, comfortably close to their friends and family, they knew they would have many more.