touch (scintillas)
Just as expected, the day's shipment arrives earlier than expected to their midway outpost. Clover sighs as Elm and Nora both point fingers at Vine and Ren, the two men far too weary to respond, for the cargo in the back has spilled and jostled around and must be sorted before recklessness causes an accident upon the road. Clover wants to make them clean it up; Qrow instantly refused, muttering, "Go inside, fill in the reports. We'll clean it. Idiots."
While the others explore the guard station for the first time since it was built, Clover climbs into the back of the truck, shaking his head at the toppled crates and scattered boxes. He pities Ren and Vine more than anything; that is why he shall let it go, but just for the day. They do not have an infinite supply of Dust to lose any materials along the way.
Qrow climbs into the back of the truck with him, surveying the damage with such weary acceptance that Clover can only laugh, deep and throaty, chuckles rising from his belly and rumbling his very being. "You expected as much, too?"
The elder covers his face with his hands and groans. "She's a great kid, I swear, I- ugh," he sighs, absolutely defeated.
Clover smiles and pats his shoulder, for he knows that the children mean well- Qrow wouldn't have protected them if they weren't. Still, they have tasks to accomplish, and the children will be out soon, so he begins to lift each crate and pass them off the Qrow so the elder can restack them in an orderly fashion. The work is methodical, mindless; boxes righted by him, replaced by Qrow, rinse and repeat. Over time, these movements become normal, comfortable; they fall into a rhythm that ebbs and flows so seamlessly that he could probably close his eyes, were it not for the fact that some of the crates have opened slightly and upending a pile of fire-Dust upon his boots does not seem like the most efficient way to get the job done.
His mind does not have long to wander, however. Soon, he feels a slight touch upon his hand. That touch grows more and more insistent over time, the handover between the two slowing down little by little and Qrow places his fingers upon the back of Clover's hands, dragging them up to grab the crates themselves.
When Clover realizes this, it takes all of his effort to bite back the feral grin that wants to manically grow upon his lips.
Once the final crate is righted, Qrow turns back, expecting another box; Clover is there, waiting for the open, anticipating hands which pause in surprise as the younger grabs hold. With a slow, smoldering smile curling the corners of his lips, eyes half-lidded and brow raised, Clover lifts up one of Qrow's hands to his mouth, kissing scarred knuckles reverently. Shock is quickly overtaken by shy, rueful, affectionate chuckles, brows furrowing in sheepish adoration as Qrow murmurs, "Hey, now- the kids are still here."
Clover rolls his eyes, leaning forward to quickly capture the elder's lips before letting go. "Then we'd best make them get on their way, huh?" he winks, hopping out of the truck.
It is just in time, too- the four Huntsmen step out of the station just in time, having filled out their requisite paperwork. Judging by the embarrassed grins on Elm and Nora's faces, and the key dangling from Vine's hand, a scolding has also taken place. It is probably for the best.
Thankfully, Vine and Ren ferry the two rambunctious women into the truck and soon they are naught but a blip on the horizon, the road stretching off for miles. Clover watches their retreating figure until he can see them no longer, then immediately backpedals inside the station to find his partner.
Qrow sits upon a chair, leaning his chin upon his hands, watching Clover affectionately as he enters. "They'll never change, will they?"
Clover softens, walking over and wrapping an arm around the elder's shoulders. He presses a soft kiss upon Qrow's temple, murmuring against his temple, "If all goes well, they'll never have to."
There is a tenderness- unspoken, tangible. Qrow leans upon Clover's shoulder, tilting his face upwards, silent pleas shining in his eyes. Clover leans down, for he understands- they have a few more hours before the return trip arrives, and he is happy to enjoy a sweet embrace until then.