Break My Fall
He is warm.
Silky-soft cotton sheets slip upon his bare skin, and he is struck momentarily by the gentleness of it all, his mind still barely taking in the world around him. He is comfortable, his heartbeat calm, his skin cool and dry and cocooned by warmth in a way which he has not felt in years. Even the headache which has haunted him for the past twenty-four hours seems to have abated, leaving him tranquil and contented for the first time in… well, he has no memory of the last time he has felt this way, of the last time he has slept so well that he woke up truly feeling whole.
Then, he shifts, and the illusion breaks.
His eyes snap open at the feeling of tense, sore muscles protesting at the motion, every inch of him sparking to life as his Aura comes automatically into play, healing exhausted muscle and bruised skin. He has barely a moment to pause before he throws the blankets off his chest, looking down only to see numerous bruises littering pale skin covered in more scars than unbroken flesh; the outlines of his wounds of past seem to glow in the sunlight streaming in through the window, causing him to squint against the sheer amount of white reflecting light into his sensitive eyes. Even through his bleary vision, however, he can see how the bruises on his undamaged skin linger, tiny yet numerous, healing slowly thanks to his Aura's concentration upon the ache in his bones.
What the hell caused these?!
His fingers run through his hair, and he grimaces at the greasy strands under his touch. Now that he is exposed to the chilly air of the room, he realizes just how gross he feels; he needs a shower and some food, and to figure out what exactly-
Finally, his eyes land upon the other side of the bed, and it all clicks into place.
Now exposed thanks to his careless throwing of the duvet, a strangled cry of horror slips past Qrow's lips as he watches long brown lashes flutter slowly underneath thick brows, jade green eyes blinking up to look at him. As they focus upon Qrow, thin lips curve into a wide, lazy smile, a hoarse tenor murmuring, "Hey, you. Feeling okay?"
Qrow does not reciprocate any of the warmth carried within that voice. Instead, all he can do is frantically search his memory for what exactly has happened- for how in the world he has ended up in bed with Clover Ebi, his new Huntsman partner of only five days.
His brain finally supplies him with the truth, shame and anxiety and guilt rising up into his throat like vomit. He hadn't even lasted twenty-four hours without his flask. He had caved and drank that night, and his body had grown pliant and willing and wanting, and Clover had found him and smiled like that-
And here they are.
I'm fucking filth.
Without a word, Qrow stumbles out of bed, putting the pieces together. No wonder he feels disgusting.
At least, with his luck, he'll be okay after this.
Qrow tells himself that over and over again as he throws on his clothes and runs to his own quarters, leaving behind Clover's shocked, protesting voice to echo in chambers which Qrow would gladly forget. By the time he enters the scalding spray from his own shower, washing away Clover's touch from his skin in tandem with his Aura, he almost believes it.