"Never picked you for a messy eater, Jimmy." Qrow Branwen was lounging on a highly overpriced lounge with an equally overpriced Atlesian whiskey in his hand, smirking at the sight before him...

James Ironwood, the general of Atlesian defense and respected council member by the people and for the people sat opposite the red-eyed huntsman with a crumbling taco shell in his hand, desperate to salvage the remains of the ingredients inside.
This (unfortunately for the general, but to the delight of Qrow) meant that his hands, mouth and even a part of his trousers were stained with red chilli sauce and various pieces of mince.

James' eyes glanced up and caught the other man's, whose face looked ready to split in half from the width of his cheeky, delighted grin. "I-I a-apologize, Qrow."
'He's so cute.' Qrow thought to himself. In response he merely took a short sip of his drink and deliberately dribbled it onto his lap. James stared in surprise. "Are you alright?" Qrow wiped his chin with the back of his hand and chuckled warmly. "Of course I'm fine, tin man. You got nothing to apologise for. Just wanted to try and make you feel a bit more comfortable..."

James proceeded to stand, oozing authority, power and vulnerability all at once. "I can get us some towels." But before he even took two steps toward the kitchen, Qrow had grabbed his right hand and squeezed tightly, knowing he wouldn't hurt him. "Sit down, James. I can get them. Besides..." He pushed the other man down into the chair so he could now stand proud, dominating the room with his smouldering gaze. "...I look better fetching things, trust me."

James watched him enter the kitchen and found it hard to disagree. Those pants were somehow too tight and just right at the same time. Licking his lips, he looked down at the remains of his taco, now broken and laying haphazardly on the plate in front of him. Why had he invited Qrow to his home? Flashes of a recent conversation with Glynda and Ozpin surfaced in his mind.

"This bickering has to stop, James. You act like children around each other." Naturally Glynda got straight to the point, but seemed only interested in assessing the problem as opposed to actually forming a potential solution. Ozpin had his hands clasped over his mouth deep in thought. "I agree with Glynda, there must be some way for the both of you to somehow coexist with one another." Suddenly, James noticed a change in Ozpin's expression; a subtle movement of his eyes giving away an idea. "Penny for what you're thinking, Ozpin." James could feel frustration building within him, wanting this conversation to just end.

"I propose you invite him to your home for a meal." Ozpin's gaze never faltered and his voice contained a controlled sense of self, knowing he had the right answer in this scenario. James however narrowed his eyes skeptically and crossed his arms. "What could that possibly accomplish, and why do you think I would ever want him in my home?" At this Glynda walked over to the window of his office, gazing out thoughtfully. "Because perhaps, if there were no distractions, no politics, no world-wearying tension, then you two may find that there's some common ground to be found."

After a few poor excuses on James' behalf failing miserably, he conceded with an exasperated sigh. "Fine. Do either of you know what he likes?" Glynda and Ozpin stared at each other with a knowing look before replying at the same time. "Tacos and Atlesian whiskey." James blinked several times in confusion. "Really?" Ozpin adjusted his glasses and smiled slightly. "Qrow may strut around with just as much self-importance as Jacques Schnee, but his tastes are very simple. You'd be surprised how easily satisfied he can be with little gestures."

And that is why James had eventually invited Qrow to his luxury apartment, made tacos, poured the whiskey and was currently awaiting the other man to retrieve towels thanks to him being too nervous to even say anything. He knew clutching the shell in his right hand was a bad idea, but he hadn't thought that far ahead. Sighing loudly, James covered his face in his hands, once again not thinking it through. He immediately felt a cool, sticky substance on his forehead, cheeks and nose. Gazing in the reflection of the nearby glass cabinet proved that he had indeed just accidentally smeared chilli sauce over his face.

Suddenly a small laugh could be heard from a few feet away, which made James freeze in place, not wanting to turn around. "I don't even wanna know. Here." Qrow held out a small white washcloth and James took it quickly, feeling himself blushing. He brought it to his face and didn't stop wiping until every last bit was gone. Qrow had also gotten a washcloth, (this one black) and was absent-mindedly dabbing his crotch with it, humming slightly.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, (the only sound being the clinking of ice in Qrow's glass) James finally cleared his throat and leaned forward. "So, umm..." The other man glanced up with that teasing smirk he seemed to always wear, but was clearly listening. "...How was the food?" The red-eyed huntsman set the glass down and leaned forward, mirroring James' posture before taking a breath, eyes fixed on the elaborate, violet carpet under his feet. "Not that this hasn't been entertaining, but..." James stared at Qrow in stunned silence. The other man's tone was deadly serious. "...I can't help but wonder why exactly you wanted me to come here?"

James nodded slightly and began scratching at the five a' clock shadow he hadn't bothered to get rid of this morning. "Glynda and Ozpin believed that our bickering wasn't helping anyone. They advised me to invite you here and try to find some common ground, so that we could get along better." Qrow bit his bottom lip and frowned. "But we haven't even spoken about anything tonight. You gave me a drink, we ate, I got some towels and now we're just sitting here awkwardly."

James shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. He opened his mouth multiple times, but couldn't find the words he wanted to say. Qrow in the meantime had stood up and walked towards the window. "If you have nothing to say, I'm not going to waste my time here when I could be doing something to help someone who needs me." Opening the window, Qrow glanced down at the city below, bathed in the silvery glow of the shattered moon high above and breathed in the night air. As he prepared to jump and transform, James' voice suddenly whispered three words Qrow had never expected to hear. "I need you..."

Author's note: Many thanks to anyone who reads this fic. I recently binged all of RWBY and IronQrow is now my new OTP. This idea simply came about thanks to me eating tacos the other night and I couldn't get the image of James sloppily eating one out of my head with Qrow being his awesome snarky self.
Constructive criticism is highly welcome, I always like to see in what ways I could improve my writing.
And if anyone would like this story to be continued, by all means leave a review and I will see where the creativity takes me.