Way Off Track

Twelfth Ride

How drastically one's view could change in one week.

Monday rolled around, just as dreary and damp as the last. Passersby stumbled wearily down the road, huddled inside raincoats and underneath wide umbrellas. A sea of grey and black and drab, earthy tones muddied the road as everyone made their way to the subway station, ready to begin the workweek once again.

Unlike the rest of his fellow commuters, Clover was excited for his train ride. In fact, as the train rolled into the fifth station on his commute, he grinned, picking up his bag and readying to stand up, just in case he'd greet another hungover or exhausted Qrow.

Hungover, no, but exhausted was indeed the perfect description for Qrow that morning as the man trudged on board the first carriage of the train. He loped onto the train with a back bent over under the weight of the world, hair damp from the rain and a scarf clumsily thrown around his throat, clashing with his more formal attire. Clover grinned, beckoning the man over to his usual seat, which Qrow obeyed wordlessly.

Clover had to bite back his enthusiasm, instead just smiling gently as the older man yawned over and over again. Red eyes welled with tears springing up with each fatigued sigh. "Long weekend?" Clover teased, offering his seat.

Qrow shook his head, letting Clover settle back into the vinyl chair. "I'm good, kiddo," he yawned, shaking his head. "I'll be fine. I'll just-" and he yawned again, clinging wearily to the olive-green railing above Clover's seat, "-nap before class."

"That's not very professional, Doctor," Clover teased.

"Blame my nieces. They came to visit. Gods, you'd think they were still little kids with how much energy they have."

Clover leaned back, taking this in. Qrow hadn't mentioned having nieces during their dinner. "How many do you have? How old are they?"

"Two- the ripe ol' ages of twenty-one and nineteen, going onto five and four respectively," he grumbled. "How many times do you need to kick some kids' asses before they realize they can't win?" At Clover's mildly concerned expression, Qrow clarified, "Fighting games. The brats are obsessed with them. Even brought over their new console, ugh."

Still, as the elder man spoke, Clover couldn't help but smile as Qrow rattled on about what his nieces had done to his poor house over the weekend, upending it in the way only kids could. It was honestly heartwarming to listen to; despite his clear exasperation, the amount of love Qrow felt for his nieces was abundantly clear.

"You'll have to tell me more about them sometime," Clover said, standing up as they rolled into University Station. "They sound like great kids."

Qrow grinned, winking at Clover. "Ah yes, the most romantic topic for dinner conversations: my shit-heel nieces."

Romantic. He still couldn't believe that he had lucked out, and that Qrow was actually interested in Clover.

For a moment, the thought crossed Clover's mind: should he kiss Qrow? Should he wish him a good day at work? Should he use a pet name?

He wanted to. Wow, I have it worse than I thought, he realized idly.

But he didn't. "Have fun with class."

"I will." And with that, the professor was gone, and Clover took his seat again for two more stops.

Those two stops were eye-opening, though. He wanted to kiss Qrow in public- but could he? Looking around, the train was packed with people all minding their own business. Would they stay so calm seeing two men together? Or would they leave Clover and Qrow alone to just be people?

It hadn't been very common in Atlas to see homosexual couples. It just… wasn't possible there. Not with Atlas being the way it was.

But there wasn't an openly gay quarter in Vale, nor was there any overt messaging against the creation of one. The city, the cesspool of mixed filth and confused streets and empty people as it was, didn't ever seem to stand for anything. Back when the decision to move to Vale had been made, Clover had thought it for the best- living somewhere so transitory, so stuck in the middle, so seemingly apathetic to the millions of lives moving in and around it, had felt freeing after the tight, lifelong scrutiny of living in Atlas. Seeing Qrow's clear interest in him reinforced that decision abundantly for Clover.

But what would the world think?

Clover didn't know.

He sighed, feeling a headache coming on. When he finally arrived at the office, that distant aching had compounded like a freight train smashing into his skull, annoyance and weariness setting in before he had time to take his coat off.

Surprisingly, Marrow was barely getting the coffee pot started when he walked in, two painkillers in hand and ready to down them with caffeine. "You're running late?" Clover asked, grabbing a few coffee mugs out of the dishwasher. Marrow nodded, lip in a perpetual pout. Clover frowned, taking in Marrow's fatigued expression, sallow skin, and bloodshot eyes. "Something happened this weekend?"

"Family emergency stuff," Marrow said quietly, taking a seat at the lunch table while the machine began to buzz and whir to life, water percolating slowly through the filter. "I spent all weekend trying to figure stuff out, and I'm hosting one of my cousins now. It's… complicated." He yawned, the expression of a kicked puppy plain as day.

Clover sighed. So this problem's ongoing after all. Before he could ask about it in further detail, however, Marrow stood, plastering on an obviously-fake smile onto his face. "I left all the portfolios on your desk though!"

And with that, he slumped over again and slogged out of the lounge, heading back to the front desk where he'd presumably continue pouting.

Clover could only blink after his departure, listening to the coffee drip into the pot. Was it even worth asking him more details right now? He didn't mess with his staff's personal lives, only asking what was needed in order to remain engaged and amicable. They weren't friends- he was merely there to support them in their roles.

I'll let him go a bit early, he finally decided. He can rest up, and hopefully it'll be resolved soon.

"What's the puppy's problem?" Elm asked as boisterously as ever when she walked in, grabbing a mug for herself and perching onto the edge of the table. "He seems depressed."

"His cousin's been going through something as of late," Vine replied breezily. The gaunt man made a beeline for the kettle to make some tea.

Clover frowned, glancing back at the door that led out into the reception area. Of course Vine would've already realized what was going on, being as perceptive and empathetic as he was.

Only so much I can do now, though. He would have to simmer on what to do later- for now, he had coffee to drink, painkillers to take, and some meeting presentations to prepare. And plan that next dinner with Qrow, he added, feeling his lips curve into a small smile. At least the first topic of conversation had already been figured out.