May Fortune Guide Us

"Are you…" His voice trailed off, breath catching in his throat before he cleared it, still reeling from the shock. "You mean that? Truly?"

Qrow sighed, leaning his head against the backrest of his chair, slouching down slightly. "I've been thinking about it since Oz explained why you were here," Qrow admitted quietly, staring solely at his glass of liquor. "I probably should have mentioned it earlier, but… I didn't want to get your hopes up." Sourly, he added, "I didn't exactly think I would actually find the courage to do it, maybe."

Clover leaned forward on his elbows, his shock shifting just as quickly into joy, and then, morphing into ugly, sour concern. Deadpan, he said, "You don't seem very pleased with this decision, Qrow."

The elder slumped over before righting himself on his seat, leaning forward to mimic Clover's posture in a feigned attempt to be confident, comfortable. "When I told Oz I was leaving, he basically called me a coward. The other instructors certainly said it to my face." With a wry snort, he finally lifted his gaze, the rueful smile curving his lips and eyes painfully handsome even in their disappointment. "You were right on the mark, though, Clover. I'd rather Vale's Huntsman's Guild- even the students- be able to fight back with more skills under their belt, than to risk them being taught by someone incompetent and be put in danger."

"And if anything happens while you're teaching," Clover added, his worry easing slightly, "at least you will be there. They will be lucky to welcome you back, Qrow, make no mistake on that."

Unfortunately, Clover caught his poor word choice too late; Qrow's face clouded, the elder withdrawing slightly from Clover. "Lucky…" He sighed again, the weight of the world upon his shoulders. "I hope I can at least bring something useful enough to outweigh… everything."

Clover refilled Qrow's glass, smiling gently at the shifter. "Your misfortune does not define you, Qrow. You're much more than that." When the elder merely smiled, but didn't raise his eyes, Clover continued, "What brought on this change of heart? Before, you were so set to stay away from Beacon. While I'm sure your return will be met with nothing but positivity, I can't deny that I'm curious."

Qrow raised a brow. "Isn't it obvious?"

"…no?"

Rolling his eyes, the shifter pointing a long finger towards Clover, the alcohol and his obvious emotional and physical fatigue causing his control over his form to weaken; his finger quickly grew into a long, menacing curved talon before retracting again. And yet, Clover didn't even blink, so accustomed to this clumsy little habit of Qrow's.

…since when had he stopped worrying about Qrow's shifting? Since when had he started feeling so safe?

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Qrow finally muttered, "It's you."

It took a moment for the meaning behind those words to register in Clover's mind; however, the instant the weight of Qrow's words settled in the air, vulnerable and tangible between them, Clover stiffened straight, heat rushing into his neck and face. His mouth fell open, but no words emerged, the man too focused on the look in Qrow's eyes-

Quietly, Qrow drawled, "You're a knight, not a nursemaid. You know as well as I do that performing a task like this would be an insult to your name and lineage if word returned to the king- this is hardly what a knight from a noble house should be doing-"

"Qrow," Clover spluttered, "I- I don't mind, this has been-"

"But I'm not going to waste your time anymore. I've come to my senses." Letting out a long, weary breath, Qrow stood, downing the rest of his glass in one far-too-quick go, the silhouette of his neck moving with each gulp outlined perfectly in the light streaming in through the window. All Clover could do was watch helplessly as Qrow finally dropped the glass down onto the table, staggering slightly as he shot the younger a warbling grin. "I'll be a good little helper and get back to Beacon. Ozpin's probably let the place go to hell while I've been gone, anyways. Someone needs to set it up again."

Clover wanted to protest, wanted to cry out- but then, suddenly, it hit him, a wave of nauseating, harsh reality crashing over Clover with such intensity that he could scarcely breathe. Somehow throughout this entire exchange, he had forgotten what Qrow returning to Beacon meant, considering how the most prevalent emotion welling up in Clover's heart was pride for the elder.

If Qrow returned, then his mission would be over. He would go back to Atlas. No more would he spend his days toiling in the sun, digging in the earth and listening to the evening rainfalls; he would set his course back to the docks where the Winter Maiden would await him, carrying him back for voyage that promised to be even longer than a month on the return trip without Winter Schnee's Aura, taking him back to naught but ice and snow in the glittering castle of Atlas.

I'll get to go home.

Why was he not overjoyed by this fact, by his success?

There was nothing he could say, however- no way to put to voice the desires rampaging through his soul, disturbing his heart beyond measure. So, he put on a tight smile, channeling all of his courtly grace. "I am loyal to my liege. This was my mission, and so, I followed it through."

The glower was immediate. He should have expected it, in all honestly. "Yeah. Whatever you say, sir knight. Either way, no one would have known if you had up and left- I wouldn't have told anyone about you- and yet," and he softened, stepping closer to Clover's seated form gingerly, "yet… you did."

As Qrow's words died on his lips, Clover stood up as well despite himself. "Qrow, I wouldn't have left," he insisted, his heartbeat screaming in his ears. "I- I wouldn't have left you alone like that."

The look on Qrow's face turned strangely sad- almost heartbroken, his brows knitting together despite the pleasantries in his smile. Then, the man stepped back, ready to leave.

Clover did not even recognize the movement of his body, the actions so innate and so instinctive that his mind was left in the dust, struggling to catch up; when he finally snapped to his senses once more, his hands were on Qrow's arm, tugging the elder back towards him, forcing him to stay. "Qrow-"

But the elder's face, mere inches away from his own- albeit turned away slightly, hidden in the shadows of the dim room- did not belong to the cool, confident figure he had met those weeks before. Instead, the face staring at the ground was flustered, eyes wide and ears flushed, an innocence projected off his silhouette so unlike anything Clover had ever seen Qrow to be-

Brothers…

Swallowing thickly, Clover attempted a playful smile with middling success. "Was King Ironwood correct?"

"In what?" the shifter grumbled.

"In choosing me as the knight whom you would find the most-"

"Shut your mouth, Sir Ebi," Qrow spat, his blush only deepening as he yanked his arm out of Clover's grip. His words were utterly without venom nor conviction, however, his eyes flitting between Clover's face and the floor without any of the strength the man bore as a Huntsman, as a fighter, as a shifter.

He was just a clumsy, sweet, handsome man.

…I wonder if the Royal Advisor knew this would happen, Clover thought, the pieces locking into place in his mind, his heart, at last, as he took in the image of Qrow as he was. I-

Before he could even formulate another word, however, the sound of a door creaking open startled them apart. Qrow sprang towards the narrow hallway tucked in the corner, the flustered shifter murmuring, "Girls, what's the matter?"

As Clover fought to calm down the heat in his own face, the two girls merely ignored their uncle and shuffled from their little bedroom towards Qrow's cavern, their bare feet pattering lightly upon the floor, their eyes barely open, the hands not holding onto one another gripping onto stuffed animals which they dragged along with them. Silently, Yang fumbled with Qrow's door and pushed it open; then, the two children closed the door behind them, leaving a baffled Clover and an exhausted Qrow behind.

"I- dammit," Qrow muttered. "My damned luck." With that, he followed the children into the cavern, leaving Clover behind to sort out his own thoughts.

It would not be an easy task.

…I bear feelings for Qrow, don't I? Clover let out a long, haggard breath, closing his eyes. By the gods, how he wished magicks worked within Qrow's home; he would have given anything to use a calming crystal upon his soul, to be able to do anything to sort out the mess of feelings entangling his duty and his desire and his oath to his liege. This shouldn't have happened-

In his mind's eye, he was instantly brought back to the first time he had met Qrow, the shifter standing within the cavern, holding his giant claymore against Clover's throat. A bark of a laugh ripped involuntarily through Clover's chest. Brothers, my first thought was that he was handsome, wasn't it? What am I, some maiden?

He knew it was folly to dance around it, though. After all, he had never seen a Huntsman as capable as Qrow Branwen before, shifter or no.

But to pursue anything would be improper, wouldn't it? Clover groaned, realizing belatedly that he had not heard a thing from the cavern; if the children were doing what he thought they were doing, then Clover would likely need to begin packing up his things, getting ready to leave.

After all, he thought bitterly, his smile far more painful than he could have ever imagined it would be at the end of this mission, my duty is done, isn't it?

Still, he bit down on his feelings and made his way over to the cavern. Just as suspected, the sight greeting him was that of Qrow kneeling beside his bed- the bed Clover had been using unbothered until now- brushing the stray strands of hair off of Yang and Ruby's foreheads, the two little girls already deep in slumber. Quietly, Clover padded over, placing a gentle hand upon Qrow's shoulder. "Do they do this often?"

Wearily, Qrow nodded. "Every once in a while."

"It's okay," he mouthed to the shifter. "I'll just pack up. I can spend the night in the kitchen, or head out now, if that would be easier."

"No!" Qrow cried aloud, instantly regretting it as the girls frowned in their sleep; he sighed, straightening up and staring into Clover's eyes, his own expression tormented and exhausted.

Finally, however, it seemed that Qrow made up his mind. "Fine," he breathed. "Let's go."

"Go?"

Without a word, Qrow's body began to glow a shimmering blood-red, his Aura covering his entire body as the shifter began to transform. Clover scarcely had a chance to take a breath before long talons reached out, enclosing around his torso and picking him up bodily into the air.

I'm going to be sick, he thought faintly, the entire world spinning around him.

Before he could make due on that thought, however, the entire world grew dark and oddly warm as he was released, the man immediately falling over, his footing weak and unbalanced upon uneven sticks and branches. When he fell, though, what greeted him was not the ground, but soft, silken feathers, the warmth of a giant body quickly enveloping him as more feathers draped around his body, urging him closer.

"You want me to sleep here?" Clover whispered, realizing at last his placement inside of Qrow's nest.

The giant corvid nodded. In a strange, dreamlike trance, the creature opened its beak; Qrow's voice emerged from its throat, barely above a whisper in order to keep the girls asleep just outside of the nest. "It's too late for you to head out, and if the girls have already taken over…"

The hesitation in his voice was clear, but even so, Clover's heart swelled in his chest. So… we'll sleep like this? Right now? With my heart still-

But as that giant, menacing beak began to gently push his hair out of his eyes as the giant bird settled into a comfortable position, Clover could only resign himself to his fate. If he was being honest with himself, he did not want to leave. Qrow was warm, the tenderness in the giant creature's touch so unlike the crude force belied by his talons, his beak, his anger.

If this was what Qrow truly was- if the flush on Qrow's human cheeks, the sweetness of his gaze, was anything to go by-

I have to go.

Bitterly, he obeyed the bird's silent command to lie down, to simply relish in the warmth and comfort of downy feathers and the protective figure which the bird offered.

This is the closest we'll ever be, isn't it?

He made up his mind. Come dawn, he was going to contact Harriet. His duty was done.

Until then, however, he could enjoy this one night listening to a steady, thundering heartbeat, the blood and magic flowing through the shifter's veins enough to keep him warmer than any blanket ever could.