Corvus
"You're helping Uncle Qrow quit, aren't you?"
Clover freezes, body chilling to the core as the intensity of those words sinks in. "I- Ruby-"
The words are quiet, rushed. Yet, the sheer gratitude and emotionality of it all is evident, words burbling from pink lips so purely that he cannot breathe, cannot regain his balance. "He's been doing so much better, and I know he always looks happier when you're on missions together, and I just- I haven't seen him drink once in weeks, and I…" Silver eyes far too big to be natural look up at him plaintively. "Thank you, Clover. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough." There are burgeoning tears in her eyes, threatening to fall, her voice cracking as she adds bitterly, "I was so scared I was going to lose him one day because of- of-" She shudders, sucking in a breath, trying to calm herself down- to repaint the mask of poise expected of anyone working within Atlesian walls.
He can feel his expression softening, the movements uncharacteristic for him in front of anyone but Qrow; and yet, he finds that as he looks at Ruby now, there is a swell of pride, of warmth, which rises up in his chest for the girl.
He and Qrow truly are spending too much time together, he realizes. That is the only way to explain the affection when has somehow lodged deep within his heart without his knowing, burning with a smoldering fire for this tiny, hardworking Huntress who simply loves her uncle and hero more than anything.
He smiles wanly. "I'm just offering him encouragement whenever I can. Go give that praise to your uncle. He deserves it."
Those giant silver eyes narrow, creasing into perfect, puffy crescent moons, glittering within her face. "I will," she promises before waving goodbye, rushing off to find the elder man.
Clover grins and shakes his head ruefully, a little off-kilter after the interaction. To think, he would feel such warmth towards a junior soldier- it is hardly professional. Then again, his relationship with Qrow isn't exactly professional, either. They find themselves in this predicament precisely due to that fact- due to the fact that something is terribly, terribly wrong with the system in Atlas, leaving Clover no choice but to break protocol and open his arms.
He cannot resist it, after all. Qrow means too much to him, and Clover, for one, has always been weak to corvids.
But Ruby's words ring true; over the past few weeks, one sober evening has turned into two, three, ten, twenty, leaving Qrow with clearer eyes and a stronger resolve than ever before. Now that Clover's personal collection lives with Vine, there is nothing to tempt him, leaving the elder with incredible choices such as tea and water and anything else Clover can find to stock up his fridge that is not alcoholic, for he does not want to give Qrow a chance to slip.
And somehow, despite all of their questions and worries and fears… it works. Clover does not fully understand how to feel about it all. He is but a soldier, not a doctor or psychologist or researcher. He does not know how to answer Qrow's eternal question which looms over their heads each evening, each time Qrow has a twitch in his fingers or a frustrated pace in his gait. He does not know how to give Qrow what he needs more than anything: closure.
Qrow is the one who brings up Ruby's comments. "She likes you, you know," Qrow murmurs as he steps out of the bathroom, dressed in comfortable sleepwear. "Ruby's pretty picky about people since the Fall. It messed up a lot of her hope in the world. Yet, she likes you."
Clover waits for the elder to continue, but his strained smile says it all. I hope she's right.
It stings to know that he still isn't trusted completely. He wishes he knew how to present himself as more than just a partner, an ally- but he does not know how to whilst the only thing on Qrow's mind continues to be his own demons. So, he simply sits upon the edge of the bed, lacing his fingers together thoughtfully. "I… she's a sweet kid."
"Yeah."
"When I say you've done well with them, I mean it."
"…I know."
Clover raises a brow, surprised. "You're not deflecting anymore? Who are you, and what have you done with Qrow?"
A pillow is thrown at Clover's face. He catches it with a laugh, feeling surprisingly light-hearted as Qrow groans, "Shut up, I'm just saying it because you won't shut up otherwise-"
"I thought you liked my voice!" Clover retorts, pulling the pillow onto his lap.
As Qrow splutters and tries to make some kind of comeback to distract from the pink flushing his cheeks, for they both know that in his corvid form, Qrow always sleeps best when laying upon Clover's chest, listening to his voice rumble through his body in time with his heartbeat, Clover smiles and finally looks down at the object in his hands.
It is the small, black, plush replacement he had bought for Qrow during his trip to Mantle.
And just like that, his joy seeps away.
After a moment, Qrow's touch upon his arm is tentative, unsure. "What- is something wrong?"
It takes a long time for Clover to sort his thoughts out. He knows that Qrow understands the purpose of his purchase of this pillow. He knows that his own desires and loneliness have been exposed for the elder to see, whether the elder truly understands the sentiments behind it or not.
It doesn't make voicing it any easier.
"I just…" He sighs, pushing his damp widow's peak out of his eyes, lying back on his bed. Staring up listlessly at the ceiling, he finally whispers, "I missed you, you know. When I went down to Mantle." It feels oddly like defeat, admitting it properly to the elder. And yet, he does not regret a thing, hearing Qrow's breath catch in his throat, startled surprise knocking him off-balance. So, boldly, he presses onwards. "I was actually… it hurt me, Qrow. To not have you there."
"Really?"
He hums, "Yeah."
"I-I didn't think you would…"
He frowns, sitting up, meeting Qrow's gaze head-on. "Didn't think I would what?"
The guilt which paints Qrow's features is clear as day, despite the relative darkness blanketing the room. His raspy voice is hoarse, just barely above a whisper as he says, "I didn't think you would miss me if I was gone."
Clover does not realize that he has stood up until he is standing at the window. It feels absolutely jarring to look at it now, his fingertips lingering upon the latch when he finally comes back to his senses; he has not opened it for the corvid in weeks, but the habit is still there, entrained in him as deeply as ever. The corvid's presence back in the early days of having Qrow on Atlas had been so soothing; now, however, it provides no relief, for his mouth is dry as he processes what Qrow has said, those words rocking him to his very core, cutting far deeper than Ruby's admission earlier that day ever could.
"I- what do you think I'm doing all this for?" he whispers, absolutely baffled, eyes trained upon the window. "Why do you think I'm helping you, Qrow?"
The other doesn't respond.
Clover hates how much his voice raises, how quickly his feelings begin to muddle and churn and froth within his gut, spilling from his normally-controlled lips with such fervour and abandon that he can barely breathe. "Qrow, what- how could I not care? How could you say that?"
Qrow does not know how to respond, his face hidden in shadow.
Clover sighs, squatting low upon his haunches, running his fingers through his hair. What else can he do? How else can he possibly spell it out, make it clear for the elder that there is no way that Qrow is nothing, that Clover will do anything in his power to help him, that all Clover has ever wanted is-
He opens his eyes once he feels a light peck upon his knee. Exhausted, he holds out his arms, scooping up the bird when it hops onto his thigh. Then, without restraint, he places a kiss on its crown, tender and affectionate-
And knowing. He knows this is Qrow. Qrow realizes the implications, too.
The bird squirms out of his grasp, twisting midair, leaving the man kneeling in front of Clover, worry and fear and hesitance shining in crimson clearer than any thought in Clover's head.
Seeing Qrow so close to him is his downfall. He is so tired of pretending to be better than he is- than what he wants. So, before he can think twice, Clover reaches out and captures feathery hair in his hands, pulling the elder close, falling onto his knees as he finally presses his lips against the elder's after so many weeks of just wanting to hold the elder like he has always dreamt.
Qrow is cold. Qrow is cold, his lips are chapped, he is startled and confused and shocked by Clover's closeness, he doesn't know what to do-
And then, he relaxes. Clover almost loses his strength as Qrow begins to kiss him back.
His mind goes utterly blank with shock from the reciprocation, causing him to grow dizzy, numb. When they finally break apart, panting lightly, the taste of minty toothpaste upon their tongues, all Clover can do is lean his forehead against Qrow's shoulder and bite his lips, waiting for the elder to react. It is no longer Clover's choice, he feels; whatever Qrow does next shall be the law.
So, when Qrow's arms wrap around his shoulders, his voice cracking as he whispers, "Brothers, Clover- I didn't- I can't believe- do you really want… this?" Clover cannot believe it. Not even his luck is that powerful.
Mutely, he nods. More than anything, he thinks, unable to find his voice amidst the shame and frustration and disbelief rising up within his throat.
Qrow does not pull away like he had feared. Instead, Qrow simply sighs, leaning his cheek against Clover's hair. The guilt and shame which pierces through Clover's heart is indescribable as he realizes that Qrow is trembling, clearly unsure of what to do or say now that all of Clover's cards have been revealed. How is he supposed to react, after all?
Clover pulls away, planting himself down on his bottom, running his hands down his cheeks. "I'm- brothers, Qrow, I'm sorry," he mutters. "I just- I shouldn't have done that."
The alarm which rings through Qrow's eyes is shocking. "Wait- why?"
Clover winces, smiling weakly. How can he say it in a way that isn't self-deprecating, self-loathing? "You've got bigger things to worry about," he admits at last. "You need to focus on recovering and moving on- you don't need to worry about me."
Without a word, Qrow climbs to his feet, grabbing Clover's hand and tugging him upwards. The strength in that movement is absolutely captivating; a few weeks earlier, Qrow would not have been able to do that with such balance without the aid of adrenaline and the need to fight.
It is with the utmost tentativeness that Qrow's fingers cup Clover's cheek, lifting his miserably-twisted face to look at through the darkness. "I wouldn't be recovering if it wasn't for you," he whispers.
Clover snorts humourlessly. "So what- is this pity?"
"No." Qrow shakes his head, trying to find the words which refuse to appear upon his tongue. "It…"
Clover feels his heart fall as he sees the shame which has overtaken the elder as he confesses, "I never thought I would have a chance after lying to you about… me. Everything. So I didn't even think about it."
Wordlessly, Clover stands, slipping under the covers. He holds up the edge, his expression neutral as Qrow joins him. He cannot form words, cannot think thoughts- he just needs to allow this to sink in, to allow himself to truly understand what in the world is going on.
It takes him until the next morning to do so. After all, when he opens his eyes at a healthy hour after the sun has begun to creep over the horizon, crimson opens up to blearily look back at him. It is only then that Clover allows himself to cry in Qrow's arms for once, rather than the other way around; the elder has not left him behind. They finally have an avenue to heal Qrow.
Fighting an impossible enemy is not as difficult with someone by one's side. For the first time in this entire journey, Clover feels like he is not alone- that Qrow is truly standing with him. He has not left Clover behind.
They can do this, he realizes. And as he kisses the elder once again, lips closed, the touch tender and chaste and uncertain, he knows that Qrow feels the same way, too.