Work Text:
Originally prompt #46 : A lingering kiss before a long trip apart.
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Qrow was almost fooled when he was woken up with the warm wafting scent of an omelete and bacon as Clover brought him breakfast in bed. He almost let that warm fuzzy feeling of contentment take over as he propped himself up against the pillows. And then he saw Clover’s smile. Anyone else would have thought it was nothing but genuine, innocent, untainted joy and fondness in his expression. But Qrow knew his husband better than anyone else. And as soon as he saw that smile, with the faintest hint of guilt behind it, he remembered the reason behind the younger man’s sweet morning gesture.
Qrow sighed and dragged his hand over his face, trying not to pay attention to the knot in his chest as he felt Clover’s weight settle on the bed beside him.
Clover hesitated, watching his husband patiently. Finally, he pushed the tray of food over and dared to speak.
“Morning, feathers. I thought breakfast in bed might be a nice change toda-”
“I’m still not gonna be happy about this Clover. No matter how much food you bring.” the huntsman’s voice was more gruff than he’d actually intended, still gritty after waking up. He cleared his throat and hesitated for just a moment before reaching and taking a sip from the glass of water on the tray Clover had pushed towards him.
“I know that,” Clover replied, almost a bit indignantly, but he softened again as he watched Qrow rub absentmindedly at the base of his throat as he cleared the sleep from his voice.
“I just thought it’d be a nice way to spend our last morning togeth-”
“Don’t call it that.” Qrow finally met his husband’s eyes, rust meeting seafoam.
“-er, before I left.”
Clover sighed at the look in the rust irises that stared him down now.
“Qrow, please. You know you can’t come with me for this. You can’t miss almost a month of classes. Your students need you here, and you’d have nothing to even do if you came along.”
Qrow huffed and reluctantly picked up a piece of toast from the plate before him.
“I know, I know. I just… We both know that a diplomatic mission doesn’t mean it won’t be dangerous.”
“You’re right. But I’ll have my scroll and I’ll check in.”
“There’ll be a least a week where you’ll be completely out of range.” Qrow still hadn’t actually taken a bite of toast yet, just holding it stiffly in front of him.
Clover could see the slightest tremble in the other man’s hand and he reached out to take it gently, setting the bread back down on the tray between them.
“You’re right. I wish that wasn’t the case, but it can’t be helped this time.” teal met rust once more. “Sometimes you’re just going to have to trust that I’m okay.”
“I trust you , Clover. Of course, I do. It’s the rest of the world that’s got me worried.”
Clover sighed again, a little lighter, gentler, this time, and lifted the tray up and set it down near the foot of the bed before scooting closer to Qrow and snaking one hand around his neck, pulling him into a soft but determined kiss. He could feel Qrow’s hands lift to cup at his hip and his cheek, pulling him closer still. He could feel cool slender fingers clench in the fabric of his sweats and t-shirt, tenderly. He could feel the hot, still faintly morning-scented, breath ease from his partner and across his face as they finally pulled apart and rested their foreheads together.
“What’s your one thing?” Clover’s voice was quiet, remembering something Qrow had told him years ago about how he got through the hardest days of worry when there was no word from Clover out on a mission.
“Hm?” The hummed question was gravely again with residual tiredness and just a hint of being flustered.
“You told me once, that sometimes, if you were worried about me going on a mission without you, that you’d ask yourself ‘if you knew that this would be the last time you’d see me, kiss me, what would be the number one thing you’d remember about this moment, to keep you going?”
Clover kept talking even as Qrow pulled back slowly and watched him with wide, astonished eyes.
“For me, it’d be the fact that, even though I made you your favorite breakfast in bed, the only thing I can taste on your lips is a hint of juice. Because you were too worried about me to eat a single bite. Because you love me enough to allow yourself to worry about me.”
Clover smiled and carefully took Qrow’s hand again, his thumb running along the thin band of silver dotted with red and green inlay.
“So, what about you?”
Qrow blinked for a moment, watching the tanned finger glide over his own pale skin with such reverence and endearment. Finally, he found the ability, the surety, to answer.
“The fact that you made me a breakfast you knew I’d probably barely touch, because you understand me. Because I trust you enough to show you how worried I am about losing you. Because loving you is worth the worry.”
Qrow lifted his free hand to thread his fingers through the ruddy brown curls at the nape of Clover’s neck, now a bit more than flecked with gray strands,
“That’s what it always came down to you know?”
And then he pulled him into one more long, determined, delicate, protective, all-encompassing kiss. When he took a breath again he didn’t pull away, so that his lips grazed Clover’s still as he spoke.
“Loving you is always worth the worry.”