Opus
Clover is actually a pretty decent guy, Qrow finds. James could have done a lot worse in picking a leader for his most elite unit. The younger (only by two years, Clover continues to remind him, so it's 'not that big a deal' although Qrow refuses to let that detail slip) is still a little too uptight for Qrow's taste, but he cannot deny that he genuinely begins to like Clover's company after a few missions together.
It is thanks to their Semblances, he tells himself. After all, with Clover's good fortune, Qrow finds that for the first time in… well, ever, he can actually fight without focusing solely on protecting his comrades from himself. His misfortune has caused too much grief to his teammates and allies in the past. To have someone who is so effortlessly able to brush off Qrow's misfortune and wear such a jovial smile is so comforting it is almost gutting.
It just… doesn't feel real.
It doesn't feel fair.
Why couldn't it have always been like this? he finds himself thinking far too often for his own good. Going on missions with Clover is delightful thanks to its normalcy, not due to their fighting styles. On the battlefield, in reality, they don't match at all; Clover is better suited to fight alongside his teammates, and Qrow, on his own. But with Clover by his side, Qrow smiles and laughs and doesn't have so much fear festering in his heart, and that itself is a taste sweeter than any liquor he has ever tasted.
It's… nice. Wonderful, even. Soothing, and comforting, and nice. And he likes it.
He doesn't even feel like he needs to drink that much when Clover is around, either.
He is grateful for the fact that it is Ruby who brings this up, and not Yang nor Weiss or one of the other kids. There is no suggestion, no subtle teasing in her words- well, not as much as what her sister would subject him to. With a wry, yet strangely gleeful smile, Ruby murmurs one day while they ride back up to Atlas from Mantle after a perimeter patrol, "It's nice that you and Clover get along so well, huh, Uncle Qrow?"
The man can only snort and ruffle her hair and smile. She isn't wrong, after all. As much as he loves his nieces, and as much as he hates James' prickly penchant for following orders to a T, he cannot deny that he has greatly enjoyed getting to fight alongside someone his own age after what feels like a millennia. The fact that he's been finding himself able to almost ignore his Semblance is no small feat.
That being said, going on missions with Ruby isn't exactly a slouch, either. Winking at her teasingly as she pouts while attempting to fix her mussed bangs, Qrow comments dreamily, "You know, going on missions with you these days, kiddo… it reminds me of your mom."
At these words, her eyes spark to life, brimming with such glorious pride and wonderment that his own eyes sting and water in response. "Really?!"
That look is so similar to her mother's that it hurts. Chuckling softly, he nods, reaching into his pocket. His clothes have changed since he landed in Atlas, but this photograph's presence in his life lingers on, always within arm's reach. Unfolding the creased, aged image, he points to Summer Rose's gentle, yet quietly wicked grin at the edge of the shot. "I told you. Such brats, the lot o' ya."
Ruby immediately sticks her tongue out and blows a raspberry at him, but he does not move away as she leans upon his shoulder, her boots kicking out almost childishly. The sight of it makes his heart swell, nostalgia filling every pore. Missions with Summer used to be like this, too; teasing banter and smiling eyes, the two of them moving around one another so fluidly that it had always felt like Qrow would be able to take down anything as long as they were together-
"You're a good Huntress, kiddo," he murmurs, stroking her hair absently. "Your dad would be real proud to see you now, too."
Ruby's grin softens for just a moment before growing to reflect the grin in the crinkled, aged photograph still laying in Qrow's palm. "Who's better- me or Clover?" she teases without restraint.
Rolling his eyes, he mocks and pokes fun at the teenager for the rest of the ride up. It is safe and warm in the airship, and by the time they arrive back at Atlas' docks, he can feel his cheeks aching from having smiled so much, the exhaustion leaving him heady and giddy with the warmth her affection and pride and happiness brings him.
Still, someone has to write the final reports. Qrow waves Ruby off so she can eat dinner with her teammates, leaving him to wander over to the Ace Ops' office to get their daily mission logs filed away. The mess hall will likely still be open by the time he is finished, so he is not concerned.
To his surprise, although the sun has already sunken past the edges of Atlas and Mantle's horizons, Clover is still working away at his desk as Qrow flips on the lights. The younger man grimaces and swears quietly, squinting as he swivels in his chair to look at the intruder. Upon seeing Qrow, however, the man's face melts into a wide, easygoing grin. "Finishing up reports?"
Qrow shrugs, wandering over casually to a terminal diagonal to Clover's dedicated desk. "I mean," he says airily, "we ran into two Grimm hordes. It delayed our return trip, what can I say?"
Clover's eyes twinkle mirthfully, and Qrow's eyes are immediately drawn to the way his thumb rises off his keyboard to flick the large clover-and-horseshoe brooch which rests upon Clover's lapel, the green and silver piece standing out starkly from the red of his uniform. As he does so, his other hand flies across the keyboard, a satisfied grin blossoming across thin lips.
The pin is his good luck charm. Idly, Qrow taps his own fingers upon the desk, waiting for the terminal to recognize his credentials so that he may finish up his work for the evening. Normally, he would probably find someone with Clover's confidence as grating, but Ruby was right to say that he has been genuinely enjoying his missions as of late.
And, in reality, it is mostly due to the fact that he can take a load off and simply fight.
With Clover around, there is no fearing for his comrade's lives; there is no terror that one day, with one wrong step, Qrow's Semblance will rear its head and take someone else away from Qrow. He is so at ease with the missions he has been assigned in Atlas that he is almost looking forward to the next one.
It's a novel idea.
As he waits, only one thought rings through his mind: Are you my good luck charm then, boy scout?
…If someone like Clover had been around Team STRQ, how different would his life have been?
"Qrow? It's asking for your log," Clover calls, dragging Qrow out of his thoughts. With a start, Qrow bolts upright, grimacing weakly as Clover laughs. Then, the younger asks for Qrow's thoughts, a curious glint in his eye as he leans back from his own terminal, crossing an ankle over his knee and leaning forward in anticipation.
Qrow gulps. Clover has no business knowing his random musings, and yet, he finds himself telling the younger anyways.
"Well," Clover murmurs once Qrow quiets down again, "I, for one, don't know how it would've ended up if we had worked together earlier, but… hey, I'm glad to be here now." His grin is nothing like the calculated, professional amicability he portrays to the junior Huntsmen, Qrow realizes. "And I'm glad you're here too, Qrow."
To this, Qrow smiles. And that smile doesn't fade, even as they finish up their work and wander to the mess hall together, only to find it closed. It doesn't fade, even as they head back to the officer's lounge to get some frozen meals. It is not much, but with company, it is more than he could have ever asked for.