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Clover is late.
Gods, he’s running so late that he barely feels the rain splashing down on his shoulders and hair as he hurries towards his regular coffee shop.
Do I just abandon the coffee and make a run for the subway?
He considers it momentarily, before remembering just how damn expensive coffee is. He settles on being a few minutes late to work.
Throwing open the door to the coffee shop, he rushes towards the counter and grabs the only coffee that’s sitting there. But as he turns towards the exit, he’s stopped. A hand grabs his wrist and he’s yanked backwards, nearly spilling the coffee on himself. Turning to see who’s grabbed him, he begins to speak.
“Hey, could you let go of me? I’m running a bit la-”
His eyes meet the stranger’s. Gorgeous pink eyes stare back at him. Kind and warm, and tired. He breaks eye contact for a moment to take in the rest of him, and realizes just how handsome this stranger is. Clover isn’t one to be caught off guard like this, but gods, this man looks good with his well cut grey suit and tousled greying black hair. He brings his eyes back to meet vermillion, and the stranger frowns.
“You’ve got my coffee there,” he remarks in a raspy voice, and Clover looks down to read the cup.
Sure enough, Qrow Branwen is scribbled on the side. He glances up apologetically, and begins to hand the cup back to the stranger, but Qrow puts a hand out to stop him.
“You take this one,” he says, expression changing from a frown to a knowing smile. “You seem to be in more of a rush than I am anyways.”
It is then that he realizes how he must look, greying brunet hair a damp mess, and deep green suit jacket drenched from the rain.
Oh.
Clover smiles back.
“I-” he stutters, “thank you.”
And then he books it towards the door, briefcase in one hand, Qrow Branwen ’s coffee in the other. Brothers, is he ever going to be in trouble for how late he is, but he doesn’t care. All Clover can think about are those eyes.
___________________________________________________________________________
The next morning, Clover is early.
It is the day after his running late, the day after his brief encounter with this Qrow Branwen , a man to whom he hasn’t even introduced himself properly. But gods, he can’t get those eyes out of his head. Of course, there are the well tailored dress shirt and pants, which accentuate his lithe frame quite well. And his perfectly mussed greying black hair, the only obvious hint that he’s about Clover’s age. But the eyes are what draw him in. They are kind and quiet in his mind, paired with the small smile the man wore as he offered Clover his coffee.
The coffee which he is about to make up for.
“Hey Mauve,” he says, greeting the barista, “is Qrow Branwen a regular here?”
“Wouldn’t you know, as a regular yourself?” she replies, chuckling. “You probably spend more time in this place than I do.”
“Mauve.”
“Fine, I’ve seen him around a few times. S’he your new boyfriend Clover?” the barista teases, rolling her eyes as she sees his cheeks flush.
Caught off guard by the question, Clover stutters for a moment.
“I- No. He’s just a friend.”
Just a friend. For now.
“Alright, alright. What’re you grabbing today, then?” she asks.
He orders his regular, a medium roast with light sugar and hazelnut creamer, and Qrow’s regular (which he learns is dark roast with french vanilla creamer), and then moves to wait at the end of the counter.
While he’s waiting, he sets down his briefcase and flips open the top, pulling out a pen and a stack of sage green sticky-notes. He scribbles down a note and reads it over.
Hey, thanks for the coffee yesterday.
Next one’s on me too, if you’re free this weekend.
He finishes off the note by scratching down his number, then peels it off the stack, sticking it to the counter while he puts his things away. When their coffees come, he sticks it to the top of Qrow’s, and grabs his own before turning to leave the coffee shop.
On his way out through the doors, he’s surprised to brush by Qrow, who is just entering the coffee shop. A gentle touch of shoulders brings Qrow’s startled eyes up to meet Clover’s seafoam ones. He smiles gently.
“Coffee’s on me today,” he says, and nods towards the counter.
Qrow smiles back, just as Clover closes the door behind him.
Hopefully Qrow didn’t order ahead this time.