If you want to go see how I imagined James and Team STRQ's first meetings/missions together, go read my fic Scribbles! It's an Ironwitch (or as I call it, Goodwood) fic :D

Also, flee now, all children who dare to enter here

Things We Said

…when we were on top of the world

"I heard what you said to James the other day. Before I came to give my report."

Qrow's face flushed beet-red, but he didn't respond.

"I should've come in sooner. I'm sorry for eavesdropping." Flashing Qrow a wry smile, he added, "But hey- we've identified a security risk, and now they're soundproofing the office again. Turns out there was a bit of wear and tear on the door, and we missed the gap. I'm just glad no one else found it."

The elder still didn't respond, fingers nervously tapping on the coffee table, each vibration sending ripples through the untouched glass of water in front of him.

Clover sighed, watching Qrow's nervousness with weary warmth. "I didn't realize you were so close- that he'd talk about us," he said at last. "You go back a long ways, huh?"

"We've been on dozens- no, probably hundreds of missions together. It's been over twenty years now."

Just as long as I've admired you.

But as always, Qrow's worry left him quiet and brooding, pent-up frustration twisting his expression into one of restrained agony.

Clover reached out, pressing his finger against the wrinkles between Qrow's brows. The man's face immediately relaxed, eyes widening in confusion as he momentarily stopped in his tracks. "You're wasting a pretty face with all that pouting," Clover teased lightly.

The deadpan stare Qrow sent back at him made Clover chuckle, leaning onto the table on his elbows, his chin in his hands, looking up at Qrow tenderly. "I mean it," he breathed.

Despite it all, Qrow smiled back, tension easing from his shoulders, fingers ceasing their tapping on the table. "Shut up, lucky charm," he said. "Why'd you call me up here, anyways?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to confuse Penny some more-"

The blush only intensified on Qrow's face, and Clover laughed louder, feeling more at ease than he had in years. "I'm kidding." He took Qrow's hand in his. "Is it so weird to want to spend time with you?"

"We have a mission tomorrow," Qrow replied gruffly.

"And all my alarms are set. I'll wake you up, don't worry."

Qrow rolled his eyes, looking out of the window at the waxing moon to avoid eye contact with Clover. "Oh, so you just assume-"

"No. But I'm hopeful."

Qrow didn't respond. Clover didn't expect him to. The elder always had a battle going on inside, his anxiety too much to quiet on command. It was alright, though; Clover had nothing but time, and he was happy to spend it with Qrow.

Finally, Qrow looked back at Clover, a wry, exasperated smile on his face. "You really don't know when to quit, huh?"

"I told you," Clover muttered, tapping the brooch on his chest- his four-leaf clover pin- with a wink. "I liked my chances. Besides," he added, standing up and walking to Qrow's chair, "I don't see the point in quitting when there's nothing I've ever wanted more."

"Dammit, kid…"

"What? Too much?"

Qrow sighed, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Clover's stomach. "Oh, you're just realizing it? Goddamned good luck charm…"

Clover grinned. "Sorry, you old crow."

But Qrow didn't pull away, instead simply raising his chin to look up at Clover. His normally world-weary eyes looked wide and plaintiff, worry pressing his lips together into a thin line. "You're sure about this?"

Clover smiled. "I'll bring you good luck as long as you'll let me, Qrow."

When Qrow's face split into a tiny, hopeful smile, Clover leaned in, and Qrow didn't pull away. He had been patient for months, and now, Qrow wasn't running away anymore. "Stay," he whispered.

"Okay."

That night, Clover finally saw it- the dancing figure he'd seen onscreen in his youth lay in his arms, stripped bare and exposed. The same scars that littered his body became sites of worship. Every touch was sacred, every breath and every look fleeting, and Clover absorbed it all, his sobriety vanishing into a delirium, leaving him too heady to truly take it all in.

Fingers intertwined, lips following suit. Hair fell into green and red eyes, black and grey and dun brown sweat-streaked. Pale skin grew speckled, bruised spots appearing, then healing instantly as sparks of red and turquoise light shimmered in their wake, the only lights in the room. Knees lifted, ankles locking around hips, cries of discomfort and want muffled in connected mouths.

And in the morning, when Clover opened up his eyes, he saw Qrow looking back at him, red eyes barely visible thanks to the shy, sleepy smile on his face. "Hey, Mr. Good-luck-charm," he rasped, his callused fingers tracing Clover's cheek, the touch clumsy and unguarded. He had stayed.

And Clover was happy.