A/N: Update 10 of today, and that's that. This fic was originally inspired by a thirty-day writing prompt I found online, hence the thirty-chapter goal. But we're finally here, and it technically did take around 30 weeks (which was the goal with once-a-week updates) so… hey, we did it!
Scribbles
-pillow talk-
"You should shave. The five-o'clock-shadow-look isn't great on you."
He snorted. "You haven't seen me in months, and that's all you can say?"
She shrugged lightly, removing her glasses and folding them primly before placing them down onto her nightstand. "You're the idiot who apparently forgot what a razor looks like."
The man groaned, tugging off his shirt to reveal a bared torso. His cybernetic half glinted in the light of the illuminated lamp on the nightstand. "I'll shave it tomorrow, okay?"
"Alright." She sighed, rubbing her temples wearily as she squinted at her Scroll. There was just so much she still needed to take care of the next day… The to-do list never ended.
Her eyes fell outside of the window. Squinting, she could still make out the silhouette of Beacon Academy, outlined darkly against the crumbling moon, even without her glasses.
The mattress under her was comfortable, but nowhere near as comfortable as her old quarters in Beacon. And until the day she was able to take back the Academy, she knew that she'd never really sleep as well as she did back there- back home.
A large, callused hand rested on top of hers. "Early morning tomorrow," James reminded her. "We should get some sleep."
"…Alright." Pinning her bangs neatly back in a twist, she placed the Scroll on her nightstand and slipped under the covers, allowing the man to wrap his arms around her. Despite her denying it for all of these years, his built frame was still the perfect accompaniment to her slender one- laying on his human shoulder, she felt him reach up wrap his other arm around her waist. It was cool against her skin, the metal touch soothing.
"…It's been a long time since we've had some quiet, huh?"
"You're right. Things have been busy."
"All things considered, you've done a great job with Vale."
"Thank you. Although I wish I could say the same for Atlas. Jacques seems like he losing his mind."
"Well, Miss Schnee disappeared from Atlas."
"Ruby Rose and her friends all left Vale a few months ago for Anima. I would suspect they found their way back to each other."
"…They're good kids."
"They are."
They were silent for a moment, simply breathing in deep breaths. Finally, James reached back with his robotic arm and flicked off the lamp, allowing Glynda's small bedroom in the makeshift Huntsmen's headquarters in downtown Vale to fall into darkness. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains which were halfway-drawn.
She was exhausted. As much as she wanted to deny it, her age was catching up to her. In a few years, she'd hit the big half-century mark.
God, her crow's feet and wrinkled forehead seemed to somehow feel even more prominent in the waning light. For just a moment, she wanted to hide her face from him. In her heart, she knew she had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of- after all, living so long as a Huntress in a world of Grimm was a badge of honour.
Still, she wasn't the same young woman he had met in Beacon all those years earlier. Why am I conscious of this now? It's not like he's young anymore, either.
"You taught them well."
She froze, tensing in his arms. Then, after a moment, she relaxed, breathing in deep, then exhaling slowly. She would not cry again in James Ironwood's arms. She was far too old for this, dammit- that one time had been the last-
"Of course I did," she scoffed finally.
He didn't comment on how thickly her voice caught in her throat.
She shifted, tucking her forehead under his chin, letting her eyes shut. "Seriously, shave this stupid beard tomorrow. You're not Qrow, you can't pull it off."
"I can do anything that moron can," the man huffed.
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm sure you're so much better, but it scratches." To prove her point, she ran a finger upwards across his chin, the sound of his rough stubble catching her finger. "See? God, the main good thing about you is the uniform, so don't let that slack."
"Alright, alright," he grunted, but she could hear him falling asleep more by the second.
They had an early morning tomorrow. He had only come to deliver a shipment of Atlesian military-grade Dust for the Huntsmen helping with the Vale relief efforts, so he would be returning to Mantle soon. And in the morning, she'd get back to rebuilding the city and planning yet another attempt to take Beacon back from the Grimm.
Sighing, she lifted her leg, slipping it over his. Her nightgown rode up slightly, and in the back of her mind, she just knew that the tattoo- that stupid, ridiculous tattoo from when she was 17 years old- must be exposed, glowing silver alongside James'. Not all of his tattoos had brought him allies, but she was still there by his side. Always.
He was still a little bastard. She stood by that first assessment of him. But, after 28 years, she had to admit- she had a soft spot for idiots like him. So, she fell asleep to the sounds of his even breathing, the barely-audible whirring of gears in his cybernetic side more than enough to blanket her- at least for one night- in the same security she so desperately fought to bring back to Remnant.
And to her, that was enough. James Ironwood was still there, and her thigh still burned; and although she would never admit it, she wouldn't trade his embrace for the world.
-fin-
I hope you enjoyed this story! It was a lot of fun to write. Leave a review and let me know what you think of good ol' Goodwood, and I'll see you all around in my other works! :)
Ongoing RWBY works:
Inked (Seamonkeys College AU)
What We Call Home (Renora Canon V4-6 Retelling)
Moments in Time (Arkos and Renora oneshots)
Calling Bluffs (Arkos College AU)
Blue and Red and Grey Duvets (Merkos and Arkos College AU)
Excuse Me, Professor (Grad School AU)
Touch the Sky (Mercury V1-6 Retelling)
