A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter five. In case you were not aware, I looked back on the feedback and admitted that a few reviewers were right. Having that sex scene really was a mistake. I have since edited chapter four to completely exclude Qrow from that. It really does not fit. Fuck I'm an idiot.

An Unlucky Drunken Marriage

Summary: Qrow just wanted to relax after a long time away on a mission. Celebrating by hitting the new nightclub that opened up seemed good in his mind. Too bad he ended up drunkenly marrying a cute blonde knight in the process.

*This Hate*

If there was one thing Joan hated more than getting smacked around in combat class, it was getting chewed out by her partner. Especially when it was something she should've known from the beginning.

Pyrrha paced in front of her, her arms clasped firmly behind her back. "Right. So, what was the one thing I told you before we went out?"

"Um…" Joan scratched the back of her head. "Was it to not listen to Nora? Because I think I've worked that out for myself now, funnily enough." 'Yikes, she is as scary as Saphron when she's angry.' She could see the similarities between them the more Pyrrha paced and was sure that any minute now her partner would point some kind of object at her in a threatening manner.

To be fair, she completely deserved it. Pyrrha and Ren both warned her. They knew Nora was catastrophic in the best of moods thanks to her ridiculous energy levels. But Drunk Nora?

Drunk Nora was something that would keep Peter Port awake at night cowering in his hole with his pet cow Edgar.

"It was to be responsible!" Pyrrha's eyes narrowed and she glared at her, making the blonde shrink where she sat. "And what did you do? You went off with one of the most renowned huntsmen in all of Remnant and got drunkenly married!"

"It's not like I intended to…" Joan mumbled, kicking the ground. "It just…kind of happened?"

"Not an excuse, Joan."

"I know that, alright!?" Joan yelled, feeling the frustration at her situation get the better of her. "I fucking know! And I don't know what the hell do make this right! Do I go on with it!? Do we try and split up so we don't have to have it hanging over our heads!? I don't know!"

She buried her head in her hands and let out a quiet sob. "I don't know what to do, and I hate it!"

"That's not for me to decide," Pyrrha replied, rubbing her shoulders. "That's a decision both you and Mr. Branwen need to make. It's out of my hands. But if you want my advice, I'll give it to you."

"What?" Joan lifted her head, looking at her with puffy red eyes.

"I say you and him talk to each other respectfully about it and decide where to go from there," Pyrrha said. "You never know, you might find you want to continue it. Or you might both agree to end it. Either way, you need to make up your mind so both of you aren't stressing out over it."

"Ha." Joan wanted to scoff at that. "Do you seriously think Qrow is stressing himself out over this? Come on Pyr, don't be dumb. He doesn't give a fuck about this." 'Him, care? Please. What a damn joke. That dirty old man doesn't care about anything besides swinging his sword and bedding women while drunk.'

"I guarantee you you'd be surprised." Her partner shrugged. "He may be a dashing drunken swordsman who has done more dangerous missions than any other huntsman in the past decade, but he also used to be a teacher at Signal Academy. Who do you think taught Ruby how to use a scythe?"

"How do you even know all of that?"

"Joan, don't you pay any sort of attention to the stories Ruby tells us during lunch?"

Oh. Well fuck.

Joan's awkward chuckle and embarrassed face was all Pyrrha needed to know that the blonde had long since stopped listening, mainly to her quite brooding of being the worst on Team JNPR. True, her massive aura reserves enabled her to take a lot more punishment than anyone else in their year, but her other combat capabilities paled in comparison. Compared to Ren or Pyrrha, she was a potato.

She let her head crash with a groan. "Pyrrha? Why the hell am I the worst leader ever?"

"Joan, I—"

"Rhetorical question. Both of us know why. Hell the entire team does."

She lifted her head and sighed. "Come on, Pyr. I was barely able to beat Cardin last week, and that was more down to sheer dumb luck. I'd have lost if the ice dust hadn't frozen half the floor and he smacked facefirst into my shield." The orange haired boy was still pissed off about that loss and wouldn't stop ranting and raving about how he would get his revenge.

"But it was still nice to see something go your way for once." Pyrrha patted her back. "And you didn't just charge headfirst in; you were patient and let him come to you."

She was right about that. Joan had used her head in that last match, relying on her mobility to constantly evade his heavier blows and absorbing the smaller ones with her shield. But her attempts to use ice dust to slow him down didn't work; she missed the spell entirely and hit the floor. It was pure luck that Cardin slipped on the frozen surface and crashed into her shield, knocking him out cold.

"Ha, get it? Out cold? Because of the ice?"

"GET OUT!"


"Wow, good one!" Yang exclaimed excitedly. She looked around to see who made the awful pun, only to see she was completely alone.

"Huh…that's weird. Could've sworn someone said something…" Yang scratched her head and continued on her way to steal Weiss's notes. She had a mission to see through and if she did it right, the Weisscream Cone wouldn't know what hit her binder.


Qrow sighed as he walked into Port's office, his flask full to the brim. "Pete? Ya in there?"

The moustached professor poked his head out of a hole he carved into the floor, laughing. "Why, Qrow! How good to see you again, old chap! Still upset about Taiyang making you wear a skirt?"

"Nope. Nowadays I get laid more than him, so it evens it out." Qrow smirked and took a swig from his flask. "Pete, I wanna ask you something…"

"Confess to me your strife, sir!" Port boomed.

"Well…" Qrow scratched the back of his head. "I may have gotten myself into a rather…unprecedented position. You can probably guess by this shiny piece of new jewelry I have." He showed off his wedding ring.

Port's jaw dropped. "You…you got married!? To who!? And why was I not invited to the wedding!? Am I not one of your most trusted friends!?"

"No, Pete. It's not that." Qrow rolled his eyes and stopped the man before he could go any further. "It happened last night and because I was drunk as hell. I was hoping you could give me tips on how to deal with her. She wasn't too happy with me this morning." 'That's putting it lightly. Joan looked like she wanted to kill me.'

"Qrow, I keep telling you that a woman of refined taste such as Winter Schnee simply does not find humble and handsome huntsmen attractive." Port chuckled.

"It's not Winter. For the love of God, stop listening to Ozpin and take down the fucking betting chart." Qrow rolled his eyes. 'Why does everyone think Winter and I are going to get together? She's got too far of a stick up her ass.'

"Or her mother."

"That was one night! And Willow even agreed that it was to shame Jacque!"

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that." Port smirked. "Once you taste Atlas, you never go back."

"Shut up, Peter." Qrow groaned and rubbed his temples. He was not drunk enough to deal with this. "She's not from Atlas. At least I think she isn't? Hell if I fucking know."

"Oh? Now this is interesting. Please, continue. Who is your lovely wife who I have not met?" Port's curiosity got to him now.

"It's one of your fucking students," Qrow answered dryly. "Specifically, Joan Arc."

"You're joking, right?" Port asked semi-hopefully. "This is just another one of your japes?"

"I fuckin' wish." Qrow snorted and pulled out the marriage certificate that reeked of an unusual combination of sex and alcohol. "Read it and weep."

Port read it multiple times as if he refused to believe it was an authentic marriage certificate and his large moustache ruffled. "This…I cannot believe Ozpin would do such a thing!"

"I know. Tell me about it." Qrow slumped into the nearest chair with a groan. "He married me to one of his goddamn students."

"No, I mean refusing to invite me!" Port exclaimed. "That is an outrage! Wouldn't you agree, Edgar?"

A cow lifted its head out from the hole Port was digging and mooed in response.

Whatever was left of Qrow's sanity promptly left and flew out the window. Quick recap of the day for him so far.

Wake up to find himself drunkenly married to a student because of Ozpin (Even though he had to admit she was a cute one).

Walked in on Ozpin having sex with their greatest enemy.

Having said enemy promptly claim she's no longer interested in murdering them all for her enjoyment and goes so far as to (unsuccessfully) rope Qrow in for a threesome.

Port now has a cow named Edgar living in the floor of his office.

Yep, today was a fucking nightmare for his rattled sanity. He was sure that somewhere, Raven was laughing her ass off at his predicament.

'You know what, I don't hate my life. I hate everyone else's. I wish they didn't have them.' Qrow looked at his flask and back at Port. Flask, Port.

Flask.

Port.

"You know what? I've had enough of today. Call me when shit starts acting normal around here," Qrow muttered. He opened the cap of his flask and chugged the entire thing, gulping it down to make himself drunk in as little time as possible. Today was a goddamn nightmare.

"Why, I do have a suggestion for you, my friend." Port smirked and patted his cow's head like it was his humble servant. "I am afraid that I need to go on important business tomorrow and do not have someone covering my class at the moment. I would hate to have to ask Glynda if she would be willing to take on that responsibility."

That son of a bitch. He was trying to persuade Qrow into temporarily teaching again. Especially since Qrow quit Signal to be Ozpin's scout in his war with Salem. Qrow had to admit, he did miss the constant shenanigans that went on at Signal Academy. Plus it would put him closer to his nieces and his new wife.

But at the same time, his semblance. It was a constant pain in the ass, always screwing him over whenever he was close to people. He was already blaming it for Summer's death. He didn't want to risk it bringing more harm to the people who he cared about.

"I must be out of my damn mind," he eventually said. "You know what my semblance does."

"That is why Glynda has offered to be your assistant in the event things go haywire," Port replied. "She has a remarkable track record of cleaning up your messes, I recall."

Qrow rolled his eyes and went to take another chug, only to remember that it was empty from him chugging the entire damn thing only moments prior. 'Oh, right.' He lowered his flask with a grumble and sighed. "Fine. I'll do it. But only if I get to use your office and get a pay rise. From Ozpin, of course."

"Of course. Please do take care of my students while I am away, though." Port waggled a meaty finger. "I don't want to hear about any of them blowing up."

"Yeah, yeah." Qrow scoffed. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"Shouldn't be more than four weeks. With luck, shorter."

If Qrow was drinking anything, he'd have spat it out. Hell, he was tempted to anyway.

Asking him to stay here and teach for a fucking month!? Yep, that was it now.

Qrow really hated his goddamn semblance.

"Fuck."

A/N: And that's a wrap. Hope you all enjoyed your holiday, and see you in the New Year! Here's to 2020 being awesome!

A Lovestruck A2#5371