Opus

He does not want this man to touch them.

At first, it is all well and good that Clover Ebi offers to help the children train. In fact, Qrow relishes in it; after so many months on the road, forced to be the only adult to monitor the hare-brained schemes of his nieces and their equally-fearless friends (although who really has been babysitting who over these past few weeks is certainly up for debate, much to his chagrin), it is no small statement to say that he is well and truly relieved to finally have some backup to help him take care of the former Beacon students. The other Ace Ops have been already working with the new Huntsmen and Huntresses spawned from their motley crew, so to have some support from their leader could only add more insight to their developing techniques.

So, when the offer is made, innocuous and innocent, a jovial, friendly grin creating an aura of stability, Qrow takes it. "Just don't mess up all the work I've done," Qrow teases, elbowing Clover lightly as the other man finishes up his work for the day. He knows that the kids are already waiting in the training rooms; Yang and Ruby had sent him pictures of themselves posing with their newly-upgraded weapons, still giddy at the fact that they have been gifted these improvements at all.

"Do you want to come watch? Two sets of eyes are always better than one," Clover asks with a wink, a playful edge to his voice. "It'll be fun. C'mon."

He does not want to join, in all honesty. He is tired; after two patrol rounds that day, plus a mountain of paperwork (only growing more complex after realizing that he had made consistent errors in the first half, forcing him to redo it all) had left him empty of any kind of patience. He simply wants to lay down and rest, perhaps even going for a flight should the weather allow it.

Yet, as Clover's warm hand lands upon his shoulder from behind, squeezing ever-so gently in a silent plea for companionship, Qrow finds he cannot say no, either. He can never seem to say not to Clover. The other man's smile, his Semblance and his easygoing energy, soothe some of the ache in Qrow's heart, always. So, as he cranes his neck only to see jade eyes creased into a gentle smile his way, Qrow can only sigh and agree, shoving his hands into his pockets and slouching the whole way to the training room, words of discontent lacking any real force thanks to the wry smile upon his lips.

That anger quickly grows real, however. He has been the only one to harp on the children's fighting styles for months-

Well, other than Ozpin.

His heart aches, but he pushes that aside, focusing solely upon watching in strained horror as Clover begins to pick apart the kids' techniques. His words are harsh, militaristic; as the young ones falter under the strain of his tonal shift, his commands quickly turning from advice to orders, Qrow finds irritation pulsing his brow. Qrow had spent careful time and consideration observing each of them upon the road, providing assistance and insight that had been tailor-made to each child. Team RWBY and Team JNOR fight so differently, after all; only after taking his time in getting to know them had he even begun to offer advice.

Except for his nieces, of course. But in that case, he had been the one to teach Ruby to fight, and he had been Yang's favourite punching bag whilst Taiyang coached her in hand-to-hand combat since she could stand upright. He had done his very best all their lives to play the role of Summer, the best instructor he had ever seen in his life. In her stead, Qrow knows their techniques better than he knows his own; after all, his skills are more instinct than not, favouring unpredictability in the face of a Semblance constantly trying to destroy its wielder.

But as he watches Clover's orders encompass them all in sweeping statements, the training regime of Atlas Academy slipping through any ounce of individualism the Ace Ops carried, he eventually finds himself reaching a snapping point. His words are sharp, brusque; pushing off the sidelines, he tells the young ones to take a break, stalking over to a bewildered Clover.

The other man clearly does not expect the blade which Qrow holds up to his neck. "Qrow, what-?"

"We're not your little soldiers, Clover," he finds himself growling. "Do these kids look like James' automatons?"

Green narrows suspiciously despite the neutral smile affixed to thin, wide lips. "Are you saying that the Ace Ops are 'automatons' as well?"

Immediately, Qrow regrets his words. Groaning, he drops his blade, folding Harbinger up and tucking the weapon back into its holster upon is back. Humiliation burns his ears, his heart pounding in frustration within his chest. Why is he so up in arms? Nothing Clover is saying is wrong, per se; it simply is not as tailored to each individual as Qrow would have liked. Nora and Ren are clearly interpreting his instructions differently, and Jaune has already grown so lost on the lingo that one could probably swear that he was still just a trainee. Ruby and Yang are both kinesthetic learners, so the two are completely lost at Clover's verbal commands; only Blake and Weiss seem to have gotten their feet under them amidst Clover's instructions. Perhaps that is why this bitterness coats his tongue like so.

Or, perhaps the real reason behind it all is that all of Clover's blanket statements, his sweeping generalizations and harsh, unfeeling orders… they all are correct. He understands where the other man is coming from. Qrow can still remember watching the Vytal Festival, seeing just how sloppy their technique had been. Pyrrha Nikos had been the only one whose technique and strength had rivalled a professional Huntress; the rest of their abilities had promised growth, but had carried far too many excess movements to be considered 'proper'.

There's a reason I quit teaching.

Defeated, Qrow steps back. He runs his fingers through his hair, letting out a long, wearying sigh. "I- just forget it. I'm tired, so I think I'll head to bed."

A peculiar look crosses Clover's face, the younger stepping forward, closing the distance between them. "Qrow, you know that I'm only doing what they asked, right?" Clover murmurs dryly, his mouth quirking up into a smile. "They asked for help with the basics, so I came."

"Yeah." The elder wipes a hand down his face, exhaustion crashing into him in a wave. "Yeah, I- thanks."

To his surprise, Clover reaches out, grabbing onto his bicep. "No, Qrow, you don't get it," the other man says, amused. "I'm not an instructor. I can repeat what was drilled into me regarding the basics, but I can't make what makes them Huntsmen better."

Qrow pauses, looks up, and gawps. Clover's cheeks are tinged red, a stark contrast from his usually-calm demeanor; the man looks away, an embarrassed, lopsided grin pulling his lips. Confused, Qrow murmurs, "You need something?"

Sighing, Clover finally says, "Stick around. I'd feel better having an actual instructor here."

To that, Qrow can only take a step back, eyes wide in shock. "Who told you?"

"James," the other replies easily, "but honestly? Anyone could tell; all of the kids fight, in some way, shape or form, like you." His grin only widens. "They respect you a lot, you know."

Qrow's heart melts, his bitterness falling away. Taking a moment to tamp down on this strange, giddy joy which wells up in his heart, he clears his throat and says pointedly, "Well, in that case, you should be giving instructions like this."

Halfway through his quick explanation, Clover pauses him, asking a very valid question. "I've never seen it be so broken-down like this for Huntsmen, so why-?"

"They're stupid. I love them, but they're stupid."

The children walk back in to find Qrow and Clover laughing amicably away. No one comments, but that night, as Ruby and Yang leave the training room absolutely exhausted, they both make sure to look between Clover and Qrow meaningfully before sending a wink towards their uncle. Why, Qrow doesn't know; it does not stop the warmth which floods his face, however.

One quick look at Clover tells him that he is feeling the same flustered embarrassment, too. For some reason, that thought makes Qrow's smile grow just a little wider.