Way Off Track
Tenth Touch
When the end of the workday finally arrived, Clover's heart was in his mouth. He probably looked sterner than ever to his coworkers; Marrow curled in on himself slightly as Clover laid out what he needed for the next week before walking out the door. He didn't mean to speak so gruffly; it was the best Clover could do to hide the sheer, giddy excitement rushing through his veins, one hand tucked into his coat pocket, fingers wrapped around his cellphone.
Nearly an hour earlier, Qrow had sent him a text. I'll come by your office at 5. Clover had wanted to simultaneously cheer and cry- it truly had been too long since he'd been on a date.
So, after silently agonizing over his appearance for a good 45 minutes in the comfort of his office, Clover finally decided to brave the elements and meet Qrow.
It didn't take long to find the man. He was leaning against the brick wall of a small deli across from the office complex housing AST, typing away casually on his phone. Clover hadn't taken notice of what Qrow had been wearing that morning, but as he drew closer, Clover could appreciate his well-fitted black blazer and slightly-unbuttoned dress shirt, sharp collarbones peeking up over a rumpled collar. His many rings glinted in the light. The man drew curious, eager eyes as he waited; even as Clover crossed the street, he could see the bright, hungry eyes glancing at Qrow as passersby took notice of the handsome professor.
Qrow noticed none of them, only lifting his gaze and straightening up when Clover stopped in front of him. "Hey there," he said, flashing a wide grin of perfectly-straight teeth. "How was work?"
"Not too bad," Clover replied. Even just standing there, Qrow's hair began to flop into his eyes, and Clover's fingers itched to settle it, to push it back- to run his fingers through Qrow's hair while he looked at piercing red staring back. He swallowed down the urge, instead gripping onto his phone tighter in his pocket. "And yourself?"
The duo began to walk slowly down the street. Clover smiled, realizing just how easily their strides matched with one another, their gaits the same as Qrow gestured in the vague direction of their destination. Qrow chuckled wryly, shaking his head. "You'd think I'm teaching toddlers with the way some students act."
"Oh yeah?" They reached the next intersection, waiting for the crosswalk to change for pedestrians. "How so?"
"Y'know, always moaning about not getting the-" and he yelped as he slipped against the slick pavement. Clover shot out a hand and caught his shoulders, setting Qrow upright before letting go reluctantly.
Qrow frowned, narrowing his eyes at Clover before resuming his path. "Can you stop seeing me trip over myself?" he muttered, only half-joking.
"Maybe you should be more careful," Clover teased. He was only thankful that Qrow hadn't noticed the quickening of his breath, the racing of his pulse, when he'd kept Qrow on his feet.
"You're lucky you're handsome," Qrow muttered.
A wave of relief washed over Clover. He thinks I'm handsome?
Clover had a chance after all.
Biting back his smile, he said as loftily as he could, "You shouldn't talk to yourself, y'know. People will get worried."
The exasperated groan Qrow let out was more than enough to hear the eye-roll from the elder. Clover didn't see it, too busy looking at his feet and trying not to laugh; trying to maintain some semblance of his normal, cool demeanor.
Qrow jabbed an elbow lightly into his side. "Oh, that's how we're playing it I see," he teased, looking up into Clover's face.
Clover paused on the sidewalk, taking a moment to just look at Qrow. The elder looked genuinely happy to be there. Finally, he let his smile grow, his tense muscles relaxing. "Why not play if you've got a good partner?"
Qrow snorted, the moment effectively ruined as he jabbed his thumb to the side. Clover didn't mind; Qrow's smile was even wider than before. "There's our destination, lucky charm," he said. "Let's go."
The locale in question ended up being a dingy little pub named Crow Bar tucked in between a larger eatery and a Mistralian sweet shop, almost hidden away in the shadows between the two. Clover followed Qrow in amazement; while he had certainly visited the other two establishments, he had somehow never even noticed this place existed.
Very quickly, Clover understood why Qrow liked Crow Bar. It was a little rundown, a little too old to be completely sanitary. Knickknacks and baubles lined every shelf and hung from the ceiling, with signed posters and photographs posted on every wall. The wooden tables were creaky and so old they were losing their varnish, and the music blasting on the tinny speakers behind the bar was at least forty years old, and not the good kind of classics.
Yet, there was something charming about the place. The drinks were cheap- and, as promised, they were on Qrow- and happy hour chicken wings were even cheaper by the pound. There was a certain camaraderie in the air as Qrow walked in confidently, greeting everyone and waving to the bartender, winking and flirting with the waitress in the most sexual, yet platonic way, as if it were something the two of them simply did without every intending to act upon their words. Clover took it all in with quiet wonder, feeling simultaneously out of place and right at home as Qrow welcomed him into the corner booth, tucked out of view from the front door.
"I come here every few weeks," Qrow explained. "Don't worry. I'll get us the best deals."
"Wow, a man who can coupon. My favourite," Clover replied, deadpan.
Thankfully, Qrow seemed to have a similar sense of humour, tossing a napkin at Clover while they waited for their food. "Shut it, punk."
But as the drinks kept coming and customers filled up the greasy dive until the whole place was raucous and vibrant and alive, Clover let his feet hook onto Qrow's under the table separating them, and Qrow didn't pull away. Eventually, it was so loud that the two men had to lean across the table until they were mere inches apart so that they could hear each other speak; and speak, they did, with the pair so close that with every word, Clover could see the ball of silver shining on Qrow's tongue.
God, how he wanted to ask about that. He didn't, though; that could come another day.
Clover told him about his workplace, about his coworkers, about his apartment. Qrow cackled when he explained how his landlord was intent on setting him up with her granddaughter, and how his coworkers wanted to throttle each other half the time. Qrow, in return, gossiped about some of his more entertaining students and his ridiculous peers, and how his faculty's attempts at inter-department staff bonding were going to be the end of him.
None of it was very deep. None of it made Clover weak; none of it touched the core of his soul and forced him to lay his soul out bare for Qrow to see him in all his flaws. But there was a certain closeness between them, the two men bumping shoulders as they walked back, tipsy, to the uncannily-empty train station in the dead of night. There was a softness in Qrow's eyes as he whispered, "Hey, Mr. Good-luck-charm, we should do this again." There was a light in those crimson eyes- a hopefulness that Clover hadn't dared to even let himself dream.
As the subway rolled into the fifth station on Clover's usual route, and Qrow began gathering himself up to head home, Clover decided to take the final leap of faith. Before the train could still and the doors could open, Clover reached out for Qrow's face, cupping his cheek and pulling him in for a quick kiss. It was clumsy, front teeth knocking as he drunkenly misjudged the distance between them. Qrow pulled back and cursed, then the two men laughed.
They were alone on the carriage. So, without anyone else to see, he tried again, and Clover managed to press a quick kiss to Qrow's lips. "I'd like that, you damn crow," he croaked back.
Qrow laughed, silver glinting again behind those straight teeth, red eyes creasing happily. "I'll see you Monday, Clover." And with that, Qrow stepped off the train, the doors closed, and Clover sank back into his seat, his heart singing and face flushed from more than just alcohol.