Way Off Track

Sixteenth Mistake

The next few hours were a blur which Clover had not been prepared for in any way, shape or form.

Upon asking Marrow what was going on, the younger man had pulled him aside whilst the young woman spoke to Qrow. Clover murmured, "What are you doing here, Marrow? Is that your partner?"

Marrow made a face. "No, no, Blake's not- ew, that's my cousin! The one who's staying with me."

Clover blinked for a moment before the pieces fell into place. He had assumed that the cousin in question was a child, not a young woman who could not have been too many years younger than Marrow herself. "I thought she was- why are you picking your cousin up from university?"

Marrow's face fell, weariness and frustration oozing from every pore. His voice softened considerably as he murmured, "It's really complicated. Just… it's… yeah." He shifted uncomfortably, staring at his hands, unsure of what to say.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Clover took a moment to survey the situation. The girl speaking to Qrow looked like she was finishing up her points as fast as possible, rushing and stumbling through her words. Her eyes were anywhere but Qrow, glancing at her hands, over her shoulder, the doors of the department building; something about the whole affair made sirens ring in his mind.

Thankfully, Qrow accepted whatever paper she was holding without too much scolding, waving goodbye as the young woman quickly waved to Marrow to follow and turned to head northeast. Clover watched them go idly after a quick goodbye to his secretary; the duo were likely heading to the bus station located farther north upon the campus than the subway, meaning he would be able to speak to Qrow in relative privacy.

It was a good thing, too. Qrow's expression was troubled and twisted, concern painted clear as day upon his brow as he tucked the paper into his bag and walked up to Clover. Upon seeing the younger's business-like smile, Qrow's face fell even further, the man murmured, "She says everything's fine, but I'm going to put in a request for a reach-out," he explained, gesturing for Clover to join him as they headed to the train. "Something's not right there. She's a pretty good student normally, but lately she's been really scattered."

"A reach-out?" Clover asked. He felt his heart softening as he saw the genuine worry in Qrow's eyes. He really cares about those students, huh? It was a little surprising to see, since the usually rough man was always doing nothing but griping about marking and making lessons, but whenever Qrow interacted with his actual students, Clover couldn't help but melt at the care and compassion the elder put into his work. If only you'd been at my school.

Clover quickly shook the thought out of his mind. If he had had a professor like Qrow, he would never have paid any attention in class…

Quickly, Qrow explained the systems put in place at Beacon to help troubled students, finishing with, "She should be fine with their support, but at the very least I think I'll ask my nieces about what's going on, too. They're friends with her, I'm pretty sure."

As they entered the station, Clover longed to wrap his arms around the elder and pull him close. Qrow looked genuinely rattled, mind clearly focused entirely on the odd circumstance. He didn't, though, with so many bodies still bustling through area, their bright voices echoing off the clean, beautifully painted walls. He wouldn't be able to do that unless they had some privacy, and although he hated to admit it, privacy seemed like exactly what Qrow needed at that moment; some time alone, away from everyone else- including Clover, sadly enough- would likely do Qrow some good.

Well. We can always get drinks another time. There was no reason to cancel their usual Friday plans, after all.

Passing through the ticket gate, Clover felt a light touch on his arm. Qrow was looking sheepish, embarrassed despite having no reason to be. "Did you… still want to celebrate?" he murmured, standing close upon the busy platform while they waited for their train. "My offer still stands, you know-"

"Do you need any help filing the paperwork you mentioned?"

Qrow froze, shaking his head slowly. "No, I- I don't think so, no. It's pretty straightforward to start- the main pain in the ass is doing all the follow-up afterwards." He pouted, confused. "Why?"

Clover grinned, leaning his head close to the other man to murmur, "If you really think we should celebrate this, then I'm happy to be treated another day. For now, just focus on getting that done and contacting your nieces, okay?" He kept his voice sweet and doting, watching the other man's reaction carefully. A part of him longed to see the man spring back to life, excited for their impromptu adventure once more. It was a willful thought; he shoved it down just as quickly as it had emerged, awaiting his response.

Still, he didn't tear his eyes away from Qrow's face. He wanted Qrow to understand. After all, at this rate, he would never built up the courage to say it.

Oddly enough, Qrow looked visibly taken aback more than anything. "You… you know," he laughed clumsily, clearing his throat as he watched the train's headlights flood the tunnel the rumble into the station, "you really don't need to be so nice. Someone's gonna take advantage of that pure heart of yours one day, boy scout."

Immediately, Clover winced. Too late. Still, as the train's brakes squealed to a stop and passengers began to flood out, leaving room for Qrow and Clover to board and head back home, he reached out, letting his fingers tenderly brush out of red eyes the hair knocked into Qrow's face from the wind tunnel formed by the train. "I don't need to," he murmured as he guided Qrow to his usual seat at the front of his usual carriage, sitting the man down and grabbing onto those sickly olive-green railings above Qrow's head to keep his balance. "But I want to."

The words hung heavy in the air. To the rest of the passengers, it would've been nothing but a quick gesture of appreciation, of simple affection between two friends. Nothing about it rang out of the ordinary.

With the way Qrow's eyes widened, impossibly large as he looked up at Clover from that singular seat, however, Clover knew- Qrow had understood the message. This wasn't just about seeing him every few days, or drunken kisses when they had had a good time before they said goodbye. Clover wasn't in this half-heartedly.

Clover smiled, just barely. "Is… that okay with you?"

Qrow didn't respond. Instead, Qrow merely sat up slightly in his seat, grabbed Clover's tie, and pulled him down for a kiss.

There was nothing drunken about this, nothing flirtatious or teasing or exciting. This was pure- all movement and heat and careful, tender warmth, the tongue stud remaining chastely in his mouth, only coming out to brush up against Clover's lips as Qrow continued the content, desperately holding Clover against him. Without alcohol and food to numb his tongue, Clover was helpless to do anything but savour the taste upon Qrow's tongue, and he realized distantly that he could happily feel Qrow against him forever.

And then, the train jolted, their teeth clashed lightly, and Clover snapped out of his heady stupor.

Instantly, the man pulled himself away, fixing his tie and glancing around furtively. Had anyone seen them? Was anyone looking? Vale was different from Atlas, true, but what if-

His eyes fell down upon Qrow, finding a distinctly different expression waiting for him as compared to the wide-eyed affection that had won over Qrow's expression just moments before. Red irises were dull, a slightly bruised mouth set into a grim line, muscles in a sharp jaw clenched and hands gripping onto the strap of his bag white-knuckled. "Are you okay?" Qrow asked tentatively.

Clover let out an awkward chuckle, feeling his chest heave as he fought to regain the breath Qrow seemed to have stolen from his very lungs. "Sorry, just- what if someone saw?" he whispered.

The fifth station was rolling around. Qrow sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Standing up with more force than necessary, he slipped out of his seat past Clover and forced the man by his shoulders to sit down in the warm, singular seat in his stead. "Why would it matter?" Qrow finally said.

Don't go. Come home with me.

The words didn't leave Clover's mouth as the train trundled to a stop, the din of fellow passengers finally drowning out all other sounds as Qrow nodded curtly, sighed, and headed off the train, looking past dejected and almost bitter as he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Clover behind with nothing but the taste of Qrow upon his tongue and a rumpled tie, along with a sense of shame hung over his head like a mantle.

And it was then that Clover knew that he had truly, well and properly fucked up.