Sometimes Qrow wondered what it would be like to drink with her.
Not too much, just in the early hours of the morning between last call and his breakfast tankard.
Winter was a bit of rare creature; a woman he wasn't related to and had never flirted with. Or more.
Since the first time they'd met they'd been at odds and ends; he respected the Huntress, looked down on the Special Operative and poked at the woman. Their interactions mainly consisted of pretty harmless – for them – bickering that never really went anywhere either way. Usually when women hated him they wanted him. But it never really crossed Winter's mind. He could tell; under the polished mirror of her manners Winter was a straightforward soul. She never lied to herself or others.
It kind of irked him; for all the eyes on her she'd never even taken notice.
Until Ironwood entered the picture.
Suddenly the perfectly indifferent Ice Queen was all perfect soldier and starry lilt to voice. Qrow didn't even know a voice could sound like it was starry eyed. Winter managed it all and that soft quirk to her features that might have been the beginnings of a smile.
He remembered the first time he'd ever caught the two of them together; Ironwood introducing his 'rising star' of a pupil to Ozpin while Winter straightened her shoulders militaristically and practically glowed at the praise like it was some new and wondrous thing. She'd smiled broadly and even laughed out loud at some point. Afterwards they'd had hushed words; Winter utterly captivated, with a decided lean to her normally perfect posture, the secretively pleased little smile she'd tried to hide after Ironwood left.
Qrow wasn't an idiot.
Half of the enjoyment he gets out of life is from infuriating people. Finding that one good spot and mercilessly pushing that person past the breaking point; the fact that he's drunk makes them underestimate him, the fact that they're enraged makes them lose to him. He's well aware that he never does this to Winter; at least not about anything personal. There's a line and a code of ethics to their fights that he doesn't have with anyone else. Somehow Winter Schnee is an …acquaintance he can bitch with and fight head on. Qrow's never had that before and that puts her in a category all her own.
But because of the way they are – as people and with each other – that means they don't do or have more.
So they fight – either verbally or physically – every time Qrow had gotten a look at the tangled mess of relationships his team was slowly warping into. He enjoys it so much sometimes he feels like laughing mid-battle. He smiles instead and she smirks back.
No one else understands the thrill like Winter.
.
.
But sometimes he wonders about more.
Qrow wonders what it would be like to drink with her. Slow and smooth and easy discussions. Quiet moments between the two of them. What would she be like drunk? Try as he might he can't imagine her being anything other than what he's seen; collected and poised, elegant and waspish, enraged and fighting – loud, demanding, refined and utterly free. Smirking and victorious.
Would she soften when she's tipsy? Would the shine in her eyes match the one for Ironwood? Would she flush and wet her lips? What would she be wearing?
What would she be wearing – Qrow mused – if getting drinks together was a planned thing? A regular thing. It's hard to imagine Winter frequenting a dive bar, much less the ones he's usually in. But maybe a neutral place. Low class enough for him, high class enough for her. Would she still wear her uniform? A skirt? A dress? Would she let her hair down? Wear that high class jewellery he's sure she's got lying around somewhere? What would they talk about?
Winter and Qrow have an antagonistic relationship. Qrow has a lot of fun with the fact she's unaffiliated with the rest of the crap in his life and has no interest in it whatsoever. They meet up, fight, and Qrow can escape his head for a little longer.
But sometimes he wonders about more.