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It wasn't anything at first. Nothing that someone would take immediate notice of anyway. Unless that someone was very intent on making sure his boyfriend wasn't stressing himself out too far.
Clover cannot complain, he was able to observe the incredible tactical capability of Vale’s finest while he recovered. Qrow was intent on getting shit done in Vacuo and it was only mostly a way to cope for a while. Once the girls came back safe? No one could get in that man’s way. He would be where help needed to be as best as he could.
Qrow, despite himself, was still partially a bird at the end of the day. Stress would build up and he could hide it like no one’s business. Clover had figured out some of his patterns when it came to how he hid it and the patterns were back again.
The corvid was getting more quiet- a feat considering he already preferred to observe and take notes. He was pulling back from more major items where he could, not getting as close to people, and fidgeting in place.
Clover didn’t like that. He also didn't like that he was finding more feathers around than normal- again usually a sign of Qrow being stressed. Clover liked even less that he couldn't figure out what was stressing him out either.
Maybe it was his joints acting up. Qrow had chronic pain ‘just around’ as he explained to Clover previously; Quite a few points of interest have been around since the Huntsman was younger. With that in mind, maybe it was the headaches or a trigger. But all of those possibilities had treatments and Qrow had gotten much better about not downplaying flareups to him and the others a while ago.
So what was it?
Clover managed to pinpoint that it was something physical. Qrow had been leaning into draping light cotton cowls around his head. Covering one’s head from the Vacuan sun is sensible but not something Qrow did consistently. The man put sunscreen on the spots where his hair parted and mostly called it good unless he would be in the sun a lot.
Currently? Clover was studying the corvid who was sitting in his little odd chair pose with one leg tucked up under his chin as he wrote on a hollow pad, chatting away with Professor Theodore and a few others about the new refugee overflow station progress even as the makeshift meeting had wrapped up. They were inside (with blessed, blessed air conditioning) and Qrow still had that cowl on. Lean, lightly scarred fingers of his non dominant hand fussing with the parts of the cotton fabric that went around his face, tucking it behind his ears. More weird things about the cowl, Qrow wasn't even covering his face with it, just half of his head. Lovely, rosy eyes flickered his way suddenly.
“You good over there?” Qrow asked, more suspicion than concern in his voice.
Clover blinked at the question, “uh yes, just thinking.”
“Careful, don’t hurt yourself again,” the smaller of the two men smiled, it didn't fully reach his eyes like it usually would. Qrow reached his hand back, itching at the back of his head over the fabric before wincing. Clover kept his own neutral smile on, chuckling at the joke.
“Ill do my best,” A promise they usually kept with each other when one of them asked that question. Clover could see the curious look on Theodor’s face.
Vacuo’s good natured headmaster met his gaze and winked. Clover figured out that he knew much more than he’d often let on. Keen and clever hidden behind a boisterous persona. A man who’s been friends with Qrow for a very long time.
“I think I’m gonna head home for the day,” Qrow interjected suddenly, standing up while staring at the holo pad in his arm before tucking it into his bag, “neither of you start any fights while I’m gone please.”
“Now Mr. Branwen, you know better than to ask that of me,” Theodore chuckled.
“Don’t ‘Mr. Branwen’ me right now, Ted,” he shot back, shoving at the seated man’s shoulder, “no unneeded throwing hands or I’ll fight you myself.”
Clover couldn’t help but snort. Qrow had such a fun way of being uniquely loving in his threats, even in his unusual mood.
“Don’t laugh, Shamrock, I’ll fight you too if you cause problems.”
“Tweetheart, when have I ever caused problems for you?” he asked with a sweeter (slightly guilty) smile, watching Qrow walk over to him. Clover accepted his fate as the other brushed both of his hands through his hair, “this is why I can't wear normal gel anymore.”
“I’m not justifying any of that with an answer,” Qrow huffed. Clover could feel his fingers separate out sections of hair on the top of his head, smoothing them back. It was a nice sensation, “also you don't wear normal gel because you sweat like a pig and it feels gross on your neck.”
“Can I be justified and also emotionally compensated with a kiss now?” He asked politely, hopeful even as Qrow’s eyebrow lifted. A small smile cracking from behind the less than amused expression he tried to hold.
“Justified? No. Generously granted with? Yes.” The dark haired man leaned down to complete Clover’s request with a soft peck to his lips while Clover rested his hand on the back of the other’s neck. There was a resulting twitch, Qrow standing a bit straighter as he did it.
“Thank you for your Blessing,” Clover said softly, “are you good though?”
Qrow gave him a tired smile, “yeah. I need a shower- I think.” He said vaguely, patting Clover’s cheek, “I’ll catch you later, Charms.”
“Still on for dinner?” He asked, sitting up to watch the other man.
“Duh, don’t forget the garlic bread.” Qrow commented, stepping a bit quickly towards the door, hand messing with the cowl again.
“I’d be single if I did that!” Clover called back, catching a glimpse of a pained look on Qrow’s face.
“Quick learner!” Qrow added Jovially, the door closing behind him. The room left with some quiet.
Clover’s smile dropped, hand moving to take through the hair on top of his head. Less meticulous than Qrow.
“Quick learner, but you need a hint don’t you?” Clover turned his head to look at the headmaster who had his arms crossed where he sat back in his chair. “He really hates talking about this.”
Clover furrowed his eyebrows, “is being cryptic a headmaster requirement,” he asked, “what hint?”
“If he wasn’t hiding it you’d have noticed much faster. But I do know that you know about his feathers.” The older man teased, standing up to walk over to him. Clover stood to speak with him.
“I- Qrow doesnt hide his feathers. Why would he do that?” He asked with concern settling into his bones.
“It’s July and it’s hot.” Theodore noted, “He’s been eating better, growing them more in the first place.”
“Yes, and they look lovely?”
“Not right now,” Theodore hummed, “In fact, I’d say he’d be incredibly uncomfortable while quite a few new ones grow in.”
Clover took a very long pause at that, the headmaster being very patient while the information settled between them. “He’s molting and he didn’t tell me.”
Theodore smiled, sympathetic while he nodded, “it’s uncomfortable for him, he’s always hated it and isn’t the best with care for it.” He added on. “Human skin isn’t ask conducive to the process.”
“He’s itchy but it’s tender. The cowl stops him from scratching- oh Qrow…” Clover turned his head towards the door, feeling the weight of a hand on his shoulder.
“Give him some time, he was serious about that shower. It helps from what he’s told me.”
“Yeah. Humidity- which Vacuo lacks- helps molting. I bet I can find some gel that would help it itch less too… My aunt ran a sanctuary. She had birds sometimes- not usually corvids but I can imagine molting issues being similar between a parrot and… well…”
“And a Qrow?” Theodore supplied with a shared chuckle between them, “he’s mentioned a few complimentary experiences about you two, it’s wonderful to see a new one crop up in real time but you should get going so he doesn’t wallow alone for too long, ask Miss Scarlatina if you need assistance with this, she has an avian Faunus friend or two from my recollection, my only experience is Qrow who is not the most helpful about his conditions, feathers are a rare trait from what I've been told.”
“Ah it's all a part of his charm, he's like a puzzle. Thank you for filling in the gaps for me though,” Clover said, smiling warmly at the other, “sounds like its time to do some research and shop.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He gave it about an hour- the minimum his worry would really allow him to wait. A container of aloe gel, some snacks, the promised garlic bread that was going into the kitchen when he had a moment, and other supplies secured in a brown bag of faith that Qrow wouldn’t be too resistant towards. Pain could be a very delicate issue for a lot of people. It was for himself, after all. The ex captain stepped up to the apartment door and pulled out his spare key to let himself inside to be greeted by the faint scent of incense. Qrow’d mentioned this had been his safe house in Vacuo and he’d been slowly working on it being an actually livable place that didn’t feel empty. With all the bits and bobs Qrow could find, he was pleased to note that it seemed like every week Qrow was closer to that goal.
Presently though, Clover wandered further inside after the door was locked behind him in search of the other man. Eventually his search lead to the bedroom, the door left open giving him the ability to peak in and see who he was looking for face down on his bed with an ice pack haphazardly left to the side.
“You’re early,” was the muffled, agonized grumble.
“You heard me come in?” Clover asked, stepping to the bed so he could sit on the edge next to him. When he got close enough he could see the angry red of the lower half of Qrow’s scalp, “couldn’t miss the opportunity to see my handsome huntsman all damp and shirtless.”
“One perk of all this-,” Qrow said with an amused, tilting his head so he could look at Clover, “is my hearing.”
“Fair… mh… I left you alone for an hour and you’ve been crying?” He said gently, watching Qrow scrunch his face in annoyance, “it hurts a lot huh? Think some aloe and candy could help?”
The red rimmed eyes softened at Clover’s offered olive branch, “… maybe,” he mumbled, “it’s just really irritated.”
“It looks like you’re bleeding a little .” Clover noted gently, leaning closer to get a better look, small pricked bleeding just in one of two spots.
“Scratched too much, there’s so… so many this year.” Qrow bemoaned softly while Clover unwrapped a chocolate caramel and held it to the Faunus’ mouth.
“Means you’ve been eating and feeling better, you know,” Clover said softly, watching the other give in and accept the hand fed treat, “as much as it sucks I think we need to be ready for this next year and it won’t be as bad I’m sure.” He tried his best to be reassuring, smoothing his fingertips over the old scarring he could access on the other man’s bare skin
“We huh?” Qrow asked after swallowing the chocolate with a little smile.
“Mhm, we… looks like there’s still some back here that are ready to come out though.”
“Probably, I can’t see… hard to reach it all.” Qrow pressed his face back into the bed with a sigh.
“Well, I could get them for you. I might need a little guidance but I happen to know a pretty cool teacher.”
There was a moment of silence and Qrow moved to peek at him again. “You… want to help me preen my feathers?”
“Why not? It’s just keratin and someone’s gotta get some antibiotic ointment on those scratches. I got aloe too- I think it needs to be mixed with water?”
“… how do you know all that?”
“My aunt owned an animal sanctuary. Birds got surrendered now and then so I’ve got some passive knowledge.” Clover admitted with a sheepish little smile from Qrow’s accusatory squinting, “there was also a blue and yellow Maccaw, she called her kingfisher because of me. Maybe I was biased about that.”
Qrow snorted out a small laugh, “naming a bird after a different bird is very creative.”
“Naming a bird Faunus after a bird is also creative.” Clover noted lightly.
“Hey, I picked this one.”
“And what was your parents' excuse?”
“…. Twin theming.” Qrow supplied, amusement in his voice.
Clover was giggling to himself at that comment, shaking his head a little bit while he , “Very artsy.”
“Their creative prowess was more in the crime aspect of life, not in the child rearing.”
“Well, you’re not too far off then hm? Talented Love bandit.” Clover commented, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of the other’s ear and side of his jaw.
“I didn’t steal that, you shoved it into my hands and insisted I could have it .” Qrow pushed himself up on his knees so he could reach for the other man. Clover stepped into the hold, grinning.
“I was a hostage actually, if I didn’t do that I don’t know what woulda happened to me,” he joked, letting the older huntsman pull him into a full kiss.
“You’re so weird, Shamrock,” he said while pawing at the bag Clover had to look at what he brought, swiping another one of the chocolate caramels.
“And you like that about me so what does that mean for you?”
“We already discussed at length that I’m crazy.”
“You keep insisting that, I keep arguing that you’ve responded pretty understandably for almost every insane problem you and your family have ever encountered. Now stay here I’m gonna get some warm water and towels.” Clover stepped away from the snickering huntsman, moving to collect what he had a feeling he would need. A couple quick-clip videos later on his scroll and he also included a comb and a few other just in case items before bringing himself back to the bedroom where he found his partner having wriggled under one of his terribly warm looking weighted blankets, still mostly face down in an odd angle on top of the bed. “I thought you’re a bird, not a caterpillar,” he teased, chortling a little while setting the kitchen chair in place next to the bed edge that Qrow’s head was closest to and setting his haul on top.
“You are what you eat.” Came the half hearted reply.
“I’m not going to think about the bug consumption implications here and just gonna-“ clover scooted the other around a bit so he was at a better angle, tucking a towel underneath his head and a smaller dish towel on his back, in case the keratin was messy but he was sure a good amount was taken out in the shower. More would come with time too.
Qrow grunted softly at being moved around, “says the man who bragged about eating tarantula,” he huffed before putting his face down again.
“It’s a delicacy in some parts of Remnant, notably parts of Vacuo.”
“Doesn’t make you less of a hypocrite.”
“Shh shh that doesn’t matter right now, let me see what we’ve got going on here.” He said, setting the rest of the items on the bed, sparing the warm aloe-water bowl which was safely on the floor next to him. He rang out a wash cloth with it and took a better look at Qrow’s hair. There were definitely a few white coated feathers, a few patchy spots where clusters of new feathers were coming in after knocking out old ones, and a few empty spots that looked red and raw. He carefully ran his fingers around the less sensitive spots of hair, listening to the relieved humming noise from the other man before patting the warm damp towel over some of the feathers that he could see as ready to let them soak a bit.
His primary objective right now was cleaning up the bloodier parts where some new pin feathers were tugged free of sheaths too soon or old feathers that weren’t quite ready to come out yet got plucked off in frustration. He couldn’t imagine how awful this was to do in general, much less that Qrow had managed doing it alone for probably a long time.
He grabbed one of the cotton pads and wiped up the blood as gently as he could, feeling Qrow tense up. Clover could only whisper apologies while continuing his way forward slowly.
“Tell me if it hurts too much,” he asked, “you’re doing great.”
“Don’t feel like I am… but I will.” Came the soft, pained reply. Qrow wriggled out a hand to hold onto clover’s shirt and mess with the seam. Hands that were never truly still unless he was locked in on a task.
“Thank you, Handsome. And you are, this is brutal.” Clover reassured him with a quiet kiss to his shoulder. There wasn’t an easy way to put a bandage that wouldn’t cause more problems to Qrow’s feathers or hair, so clover could only apply a bit of pressure and wait for it to stop bleeding. Taking a moment to sooth each spot or scratch before he moved to start actually preening the ready feathers that were left behind. He hesitated and slowly pinched the white cast of sheath on one, pressing his thumbnail to scrape along the feather and get it free with decent success. Qrow also didn’t flinch at it which was a bonus really, clover thought while wiping his fingers on the towel before going to another one. A slow and careful repetition, giving the other man a careful scratch by feather’s base now and then.
At some point in his state of concentration, Clover realized Qrow was trilling. It was a soft, breathy little noise- barely above a whisper. Almost like a purr but very clearly like a pigeon’s coo… Qrow wouldn’t ever forgive him if he compared him to the sound of a pigeon. Even if Clover personally thought pigeons were fantastic in their own right, someone definitely gave Qrow a negative association about being compared to them. Disheartening to think about it.
He pulled his attention back to listen to the cooing. He’d never heard the huntsman make any noises he could consider birdlike unless he had been in his literal bird form or was whistling. It was adorable, he might just cry about it as a treat. Clover pulled back to place a kiss on the (feather free) top area of the faunus’s head. “Youre so cute, Birdy,” he murmured warmly as he watched Qrow sleepily look up with a small peep noise.
“Huh?... you're cute… why’dya stop?” Qrow mumbled back, blinking slowly while he rested his head back down again.
“Whatever you say, Peeps, just took a quick pause. I am almost done.”
“... Peeps…?”
“Don’t listen to me, just go back to your nap.”
“Mh, okay...”
Clover carded his fingers through the top of Qrow’s hair until he knew the other was at least 90% asleep again so that he could continue with the feather freeing repetition of pinch and rub til any feather he inspected was either finished or not ready yet; he carded his fingers through the mix of feather and hair.
Once satisfied, he reached down to wring out the wash cloth in the water again and used it to wipe off the crumbles of keratin and dab at any residual spots of blood. He was relieved when Qrow barely stirred, hopefully the aloe in the water really did do something to ease up the burning feeling for the poor guy.
Now for the last step.
Clover squeezed out some of the antibiotic onto the back of a paper towel before taking a Q-tip and dabbing it into the mound. One spot at a time he applied the ointment, taking specific care to gel up a couple deep nail scratch lines that were very clearly from Qrow getting fed up with his plight. Clover wasn’t pleased but he certainly understood the action. He did his best to rub in the ointment without hurting or waking the other up, dabbing at it so it wasn't applied too thick and ending up feeling heavy on the new feathers in the surrounding areas.
He sat back with a breath, cleaning up the towels and his supplies before carrying it all off to the bathroom to be put away or thrown away. He returned items back to the medical kit and dumped the water down the drain. Clover double checked on his snoozing patient before putting the chair away as well and returning back to the room. He pulled off his shirt and tucked off into the bathroom to take a quick bask in the amenities. In particular, a nice cooling shower. Vacuo always had him sweating; thankfully, Qrow’s apartment was neutral in its temperature despite the corvid’s preference for warmth. He toweled off as he slipped into Qrow’s bedroom again so he could retrieve one of the spare sweatpants he stored in Qrow’s dresser.
A soft whistle came from behind him, the log on the bed to blame. “I didn't think I ordered beef today,” the sleepy huntsman cracked his joke, a lazy smile on his face.
“The deli had a promotion, if you plucked your own chicken it came with a side of sirloin,” Clover shrugged, smirking while he tied his sweatpant strings and flipped the light switch. He approached the bed with the faint filtering of light around the edges of Qrow’s black out curtains, “feeling better, Baby?”
“I'm not a chicken and you did not pluck me,” Qrow pointed out, yawning while Clover made his way to lay down next to him on the bed, accepting the incorrect angle for now so Qrow wouldn’t have to move too much. Though, he did wriggle free from his blanket wrap enough to accept Clover under the blanket with him, “but yeah, I am. Thank you, Sweets.”
“Youre so very welcome and you're a mother hen but fair enough, I preened my incredible boyfriend so he can keep all of those kids in line.” He said, letting the other crawl half way onto his chest and tuck his face against his neck. Clover carefully adjusted the blanket so it was only on Qrow again. Partially for chivalry but mostly for self preservation so he wouldn't boil.
“...M’ not a mother hen.”
“But you are my lovely compliment dodger. And I suppose you've got ducklings– as you call them– that follow you around, not chicks… but you do coo like a hen.” Clover teased and felt the other get a little stiff.
“I wasnt…”
“You were~”
“Ugh, I thought I stopped doing that,” Qrow bemoaned, determined to hide against Clover’s neck completely, “that’s so embarrassing.”
“Never ever stop doing that, it was the cutest thing ever. I even teared up,” Clover pleaded with his hand wiping an invisible tear away before kissing Qrow’s temple where he knew no feathers resided.
“You are unbelievably dramatic,” the faunus sighed.
“I am not taking lip from the man who whined at me about getting him baked potato soup or he would die.”
“I was sick, you bastard.”
“And you shouldn't have been eating cream bases, it should have been a broth. You got nauseous 10 minutes later,” Clover said confidently, squeezing him a little.
“Worth it also- et tu? Who’s the mother hen, again?” Qrow asked with a quiet snort.
“Both of us can be, if we believe-” Clover laughed, accepting the hand that Qrow laid over his face.
“Both of us can be asleep now too, if we believe,” Qrow reasoned, pointedly snuggling into him more and moving his hand off of the other’s face to comb through the still slightly damp hair strands while resting his arm against the bed.
“Sure, pretty bird. A nap sounds great.” Clover conceded, a warm tone to his voice. He let his eyes close with a low, comfortable sigh of enjoyment, knowing one of his favorite people was comfortable and safe right next to him.