Way Off Track

Nineteenth Show

Clover was a grown man. A confident adult, a successful businessman who could handle himself in any situation. He was handsome and had had his fair share of suitors, could flirt his way into any sales deal, and could charm his way into anyone's hearts if the need presented itself. He knew these things, and he was proud of the skillsets he had cultivated over the years.

So why was he blushing in the subway station like a virginal teen?

He could not stop his giddiness from taking over every few minutes, leaving him bouncing on the balls of his feet with his hands tucked into his pockets. He wanted to pull out his phone and check the time, the location, the messages which had sent him to this place; he wanted to rush to the bathroom and check his reflection, his outfit, his hair. He needed to look perfect- he wanted this to be perfect.

He did manage to fight down that urge, however, simply allowing himself to meditate on the spot, focusing on his breathing as he tuned out the sounds of the people rushing past him upon the platform. Finally, the voice he had been waiting for murmured, "Looks like you won, boy scout. Did I keep you waiting?"

Qrow stood before him in a stylish zipped-up jacket and fitted jeans, cuffed above the ankles, exposing pale skin over taut bone over expensive loafers. His skin looked bright and if Clover squinted, it almost looked as if he had freshly shaved, his constant stubble a little gentler than usual. It was more effort than he put into his daily appearance, and Clover's heartrate skyrocketed, for Qrow had tried for him.

He looked amazing. Before he could hold back and doubt himself, Clover winked back at Qrow. "Only my whole life, you old crow."

The pink that speckled Qrow's cheeks warmed his heart as the elder jabbed at thumb towards the eastern exit of the station. "Wow, alright there. Easy does it. It's this way. Let's go."

Clover allowed himself to be guided by the elder, keeping his eyes fixed upon Qrow so intently he almost tripped over a step down; Qrow caught him with a laugh, straightening him up and dusting off his shoulders. "Who's clumsy now?" he teased.

"Only with you," Clover groaned, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. As he looked around, however, he noticed the distinct lack of people in their exit tunnel. His courage surged for a moment; before it could fail him, he reached over and grabbed Qrow's hand, winding their fingers together. "C'mon, we'll be late."

Qrow's visible surprise quickly turned into impressed appreciation as he strengthened his grip as well, pulling Clover along. He didn't say a word, but the peace in his face was enough to prove to Clover that he had done the right thing, despite his heart hammering inside of his ribcage at the thought of being seen.

When they arrived at Qrow's planned destination- an adults-only movie theatre that seemed far more run-down than Clover had expected it to be- he finally dared to ask, "So why did you want to see a movie?"

Qrow shrugged, releasing his hand for a moment to pull out his wallet as they approached the till. "Because you're from Atlas," he groaned, exaggerating the word as if it were something filthy. "I've worked with plenty of people from there in the past. In my area of study they've…" the man grimaced bitterly, "they've contributed a lot of things to study in my field. Not good things, for the most part."

Clover sighed, a little bit of shame welling up within him. He had listened to enough of Qrow's podcasts, his seminars, his speeches; he had expected as much. There was no way that Qrow would ever have anything but distaste for what was ostensibly one of the most problematic places in the world in regards to equity and social justice.

However, Qrow continued, "And since people are so stuck-up there, I doubt they'd know how to have fun." Turning back to Clover he wink, flashing sharp canines, a hit of silver glinting between his teeth. "You're lucky that I've taken it upon myself to teach you how to live a little. I am a professor, after all."

Clover instinctively snorted and rolled his eyes, the elder's words enough to ease his heart a little. He could endure a little ribbing if it meant that Qrow accepted him in all his clumsiness.

Qrow paid for everything at the front, flashing a credit card at Clover with enough gusto and playful, mocking bravado to make the other man finally laugh aloud. Soon, they were situated inside a nearly-empty theatre with advertisements running across the screen for the pre-show warmup. Qrow glanced around, spotting the two other couples seated on opposite sides of the room near the centerline; he nodded happily and beckoned Clover to follow him into the very back, not stopping until they were tucked into the far right corner.

Clover frowned, glancing back at the center of the room. "Shouldn't we sit over there?" he asked wryly. "It's probably a better view."

"Meh, the screen's not that big, so you can see it fairly well from anywhere," Qrow replied airily. "Why, are you a big movie buff?"

"Not particularly. I haven't been in years."

"Of course you haven't."

Clover raised a brow, pulling off his jacket and draping it over the empty chair at his side. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Qrow laughed, shaking his head as he tossed his own jacket onto the same spare chair Clover was using. Clover gulped, taking a look at the elder's figure; it still felt surreal to see the man out of dress shirts and blazers, after all. In the dim lighting, the plain white t-shirt upon his body was fairly fitted, still showing off clearly-defined biceps and a built chest, cloth stretching over pectorals that-

Clover blinked. Gulped. Eyes honed in upon Qrow's chest. Does… does he have nipple piercings, too?

With the way Qrow's gaze followed Clover's, glanced down, then raised again, only to narrow into a lascivious, feral grin, was all the confirmation Clover needed.

He sat down clumsily, unsure of how to process this information; however, he didn't have much time to as the lights began to dim and the preshow proper began to thunder across the screen. The cinematic logos for film studios appeared to much fanfare as trailers started off, quieting the two other couples in the otherwise-empty theatre. Clover did not get an opportunity to look at the trailers- frankly, he didn't even know what film they were there to see to begin with, since it had been so long since he had paid any attention to the cinema- but his distraction was not for the reason he would have expected.

The moment the lights dimmed and the sound from the speakers above their head drowned everything else out, Qrow's hand slipped into Clover's hair, pulled him over, and guided him into a kiss.

For a long moment, Clover was stupefied, merely shocked at the sudden touch. Then, he sprang back, feeling himself flush hotly. "We're in a theatre!" he whispered, trying not to simultaneously laugh and yell, because of course Qrow would do this. "What are we, teenagers?!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Atlas, did you get to do a lot of making out in theatres when you were a teen?"

"…not really."

Even in the darkness of the theatre, the film's lights were enough to glint off of white teeth, silver stud shining as his tongue flicked out to lick his lips. The sight of it made Clover weak, then sent his thoughts racing. Why was he protesting? What was he trying to prove?

Then, it hit him. We've never done this sober before, have we?

The idea made him melt. So, he smiled, lifted the armrest between their seats, shifted so that he was facing the other man, and draped his arm over Qrow's shoulder. "Fine, old man," he teased. "Let's see if you can play."

Qrow took in the challenge with relish, those bare ankles wrapping around Clover legs, locking him in place. For the next ninety minutes, Qrow explored every inch of Clover's mouth with his tongue, slowly and methodically breaking Clover down until he was naught but a panting mess in his seat, struggling to retain any semblance of calm while his blood rushed to fill the hickeys left in Qrow's wake and his almost-painful erection. There was something thrilling about letting himself be so vulnerable, risking getting caught in favour of allowing the elder to do whatever he wanted. As Qrow's lips travelled from his mouth to his chin, jawline, ear, neck, collarbone, and back up, and as Qrow allowed Clover's hands to travel down the planes of his chest, landing upon two nipples bearing barbells- much to his scandalized delight- Clover found himself no longer caring, too focused on the heat of Qrow's mouth and the wicked glint of red and silver watching him from the darkness.

And then, at the one-hour-fifty-minute mark, Qrow suddenly released him and pointed at the screen. "Look."

Bleary and dishevelled, Clover looked up at the film. Nothing was going on; admittedly, it was a lovely shot, the protagonist framed by geometric angles in a colourfully lit fountain. Melancholic tears welled up in his eyes, but none spilled forth, the only indication of his struggle the trembling of his lips as the camera panned out farther and farther back.

It would've likely been an incredible moment had Clover had any idea what the film was even about.

His attention was torn away from the screen as he felt hands reaching down to his waist, fingers tracing his erection through the cloth. The squeak which escaped his throat was absolutely mortifying as he turned to see Qrow moving to unzip his pants, the lust on his face evident in every furrow of his brown, in the focus within half-lidded eyes.

"Qrow," he begged, covering his lap, "that's too much."

Qrow froze, eyes unfathomably wide and innocent as they looked up at him in surprise. Then, just like that, Qrow slid upwards, fixing up Clover's pants and shirt and smoothing out his hair. With a wry grin, he murmured, "Fair enough. Good on you for making it this far, kiddo."

Clover flushed, burying his face in his hands at the smoothness of Qrow's transition. By his side, he overheard Qrow gasp as he turned back to the screen. "Oh, that's such a good angle for that lighting," the elder murmured, somehow entranced by the film seamlessly.

"Have you already seen it?" Clover asked through his muffled hands.

Qrow nodded. "A colleague of mine recommended it a while back. Did you really think I'd come sit in a theatre with you for hours just to watch a film?"

"…isn't that what you do on a date?"

To his surprise, Qrow's entire face softened, the amount of warmth contrasting with his bruised, bitten lips and mussed hair, with the lines of hickeys upon his neck that would undoubtedly be visible the moment they stepped outside. "We can watch movies for the movie whenever you want," he cooed, unexpectedly gentle.

Clover groaned, but he couldn't fight back his affectionate smile as Qrow leaned in for a much softer kiss, tongue staying chastely in his own mouth.

By the time the credits began to roll, Clover had managed to regain some semblance of control over his heartbeat. As he stood and slipped on his jacket, Qrow leaned forward, pressing himself against the taller man while he fixed Clover's hair. "You've got a little something there," he teased, tapping Clover's exposed collarbones.

Clover looked down and immediately sighed, spotting tiny bruises leading up from the hem of his shirt. "Goddammit, Qrow," he breathed, equal parts exasperated and horrified.

Qrow merely shrugged and grabbed his own jacket, zipping it up to his chin. "And that's why you wear high collars, folks," he said proudly, stepping around Clover to exit the theatre, leaving Clover to bite down his flustered embarrassment on his own.

He's going to be the death of me.

And, strangely enough, Clover didn't mind that thought one bit.