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Chapter Text

Clover turned up the collar of his jacket, yet the wind still pinched his ears with its icy fingers and he hunched his shoulders, trying to escape it. This wasn't the best day to go flat-hunting, but there wasn't long remaining on his current agreement and he was getting anxious he might not find anywhere suitable.

Just my luck to be renting in a building that's on prime development land. And only receiving two months' notice... not helpful.

He'd viewed any number of prospective rentals. Each one had a downside which he couldn't come to terms with, and now he was starting to think he'd have to take anything, however unsuitable. Just to be certain of having a roof over his head. His footsteps slowed as he pulled the notebook from his pocket, glancing from the page to the street sign across the road. With a quick glance to check the way was clear, he jogged across and started walking along the road, scanning the house numbers as he went.

Qrow stood on the pavement and scowled up at the building. He loathed house-hunting, but he'd taken advantage of his friends' spare room long enough. This one didn't look that promising, but he wasn't too fussy. As long as he could afford it and it wasn't very dilapidated, it would suffice.

Clover slowed to a halt, checking the house number. This was definitely the one. He shot a glance at the man standing by the gate, a frown creasing his forehead.

Is he coming out, or going in? Nor exactly helpful blocking the path like that...

At that moment, the front door opened and two women emerged, followed by an older woman who paused in the doorway. They exchanged some words and shook hands with each other, then the couple linked arms and walked towards the gate, smiling despite the wind which whipped their coats about their legs.

The men on the pavement moved back as they passed through the gate.

"We were so lucky to get it! I feel bad for the ones who missed out..."

Her voice faded as they hurried away, and Qrow stared after them.

"Fuck it." He glanced up and caught Clover's startled expression. "Uh, sorry... looks like the flat I was here for is taken. It's not my day, I guess."

Clover pulled out his notebook and frowned at it. "Well, this is annoying. I was here to view this one, too." He slid his hands into his pockets. "A bit out of order to let it when there are other potential tenants, isn't it?"

Qrow shrugged. "I dunno how it works, to be honest. But it looks like it's gone now— well, back to square one for me."

"Me too. Although—" Clover looked at the building. "Perhaps I should check... there could be two flats available here." He cocked an eyebrow at Qrow.

"Could do... no harm in asking." Qrow watched him approach the house and ring the bell. After a brief conversation with the older woman who answered, which ended with her shaking her head, he rejoined Qrow on the pavement.

"No go, I'm afraid... just the one, and now it's gone."

"Shit." Qrow kicked a toe at the low brick wall. "Ah well, thanks for asking." He looked at Clover, who was standing to one side, scratching his head. "What will you do now?"

Clover shrugged. "Keep looking and hope something turns up, I guess." He looked along the road. "There's a letting agency over there. Have you tried it?"

Qrow turned to follow his gaze. "Not that one, no. Worth a look, d'you reckon?"

A few minutes later, they were peering through the window, scanning the displays of flats and houses for rent. Qrow frowned. "They're all so expensive... I'm doomed."

"There's this one." Clover pointed to a card and Qrow squinted at it.

"Don't you want to ask about— uh, no good, they want a professional couple. Whatever that is." He laughed mirthlessly. "Not much chance of me being half of a professional couple, I reckon, when I haven't even got my own place to live."

The man alongside him made no reply, and Qrow glanced at his face. Clover was staring at the card, chewing on his lower lip as he frowned through the window. "Do you remember that old comedy show? Where two people pretend to be together, to get a flat—" he waved a hand at the board, "like this one? With the same requirement." He turned to face Qrow. "I mean— no, it's a stupid idea. All very well for TV, not much use in real life."

Qrow stared at him. The idea was either daft or inspired. "I don't remember the show... did it work? Did they get the flat?"

"Well yes, but— we don't know each other, do we? So—"

Qrow stared back through the glass. "No, but people do get housemates they don't know. You can come and meet my friends, if you like. And... I dunno, you could give me a reference or something? To prove you're not some weirdo."

Clover pouted. "I'm not some weirdo. I'm very ordinary."

Qrow narrowed his eyes. "Weirdos always say that."

"How many do you know? Do you hang out with them on a regular basis?"

Qrow snorted. "Not a regular basis, no." his face became serious. "But what d'you reckon? Worth a shot?"

Fifteen minutes later they left the letting agency with a viewing appointment at ten o'clock the following morning.

"Right then, we need to get organised." Clover looked along the street. "Let's get a coffee, and we can make plans." He strode off, stopping after a few paces when Qrow didn't follow. "Come on, Qrow. It's important to sound believable."

With a small shake of the head, Qrow trotted up to him. "Are you always this... busy?"

"When it's necessary, yeah. We have to be a convincing couple or they might smell a rat."

Coffee and cake in hand, the two men found a table towards the rear and sat down. Qrow slumped in his chair, rubbing a hand through his hair. Clover shunted his chair closer in and sat forwards, his eyes fixed on Qrow's face. "In the show, they learnt all kinds of facts about the other person, but I'm not sure that's needed. We just want to come across as comfortable with each other. Relaxed, you know." He paused, taking a sip of coffee. Putting the cup down suddenly with a clatter, he said, "I've just thought... you are gay, right? I kind of assumed, 'cause I feel you are, but—"

"I'm bi, so yeah, we're good." Qrow grinned at him. "I won't mind holding hands as we go up the garden path, or whatever."

Clover blushed. "I think it might help, but only if you're cool with it."

"It's just holding hands, right? Not like we need to share a bed or anything." Qrow picked up his coffee, enjoying the sight of Clover's flustered expression as he took an appreciative sip.

Clover drew a deep breath. "Okay then, let's ask each other a few questions so we don't seem like complete strangers when we go there tomorrow."

Forty minutes later, they parted outside the coffee shop, arranging to meet at the end of the street where the flat was situated the next morning. Qrow had learnt to his surprise that Clover enjoyed going paint-balling, while Clover found the fact that Qrow regularly took his two nieces ice-skating somewhat unexpected. Now all that remained was to convince the flat owner they were a respectable couple. Clover was confident, Qrow less so.

"We lose nothing by trying, Qrow. And stand to gain somewhere to live if we succeed." Clover clapped him on the shoulder and set off, and Qrow watched him for a few moments before turning to walk slowly in the opposite direction.

It was a couple of minutes before ten. Clover pressed the doorbell and took a step back, watching for a movement inside the hallway. He could feel the tension emanating from Qrow, and groped for his hand as they waited. He gave a quick squeeze of the fingers before releasing it.

"Be brave, Qrow. We've got this."

Qrow nodded silently.

The door opened, and a middle-aged man greeted them. "Mr Ebi and Mr Branwen? Come in, come in." He stood to one side and they entered, shaking his hand as they passed. After closing the door, he ushered them into a small sitting room.

"Have a seat, please. Now then—"

Clover sat on the sofa and Qrow edged in beside him, by necessity sitting close as there was little room. The landlord flicked through some papers before turning to them with a smile.

"I have the details from the agent... based on your salaries, the rent won't be a problem. Shall I show you the flat? Then, if you're still interested, we can go through the paperwork."

"Thank you, Mr Radcliff."

"Please, call me Alan." He smiled at Clover and they all stood, filing from the room to climb the stairs.

Ten minutes later, the two men were signing the papers to rent the flat. Apart from an awkward moment when they'd been asked about whether they were getting married, it had all gone smoothly.

After agreeing they would move in by the end of the week, they left the house and breathed in lungfuls of the cold air in relief. Clover resisted the urge to embrace Qrow, although it was quite tempting.

"We did it! Well done, Qrow."

"Huh, I almost messed up though, didn't I? Saying we hadn't talked about marriage, just as you said neither of us wanted to."

"Yeah, we weren't quite on the same page there. Still, no harm done. Although—" Clover tailed off, frowning. "I hadn't realised the second bedroom would be so small. It's more like a child's room."

Qrow shrugged. "We can sort something out... the main thing is, we've both got somewhere to live. Fancy a celebratory coffee?"

Qrow wasn't sorry to move out. "You've been great, and I appreciate it... but at my age, my back needs something more than a sofa bed."

Summer folded her arms and considered him. "And you're certain this Clover guy is okay? You won't wake up murdered in your bed one day?"

Qrow laughed. "He seems fine. And he offered to let me speak to his boss, so—"

"And did you?"

"Nah. Didn't need to, did I? He offered, so that was enough."

Summer looked unconvinced by his logic, but then sighed. "Well, if there are any problems, let us know. Tai can come round and thump him."

"Thanks for the offer; I'll bear it in mind." Qrow grinned as he leant in to kiss her cheek. "Bye then, Sum. When we're all sorted, we can go for a drink, maybe."

Qrow collected his last bag and headed to the front door. Summer stood on the step as he shoved it into the boot, waving as he pulled off the drive onto the road. She still had reservations about Qrow's unorthodox plan, but had to admit that at his age it was time he had his own place. Checking her watch, she muttered an oath at the lateness of the afternoon and hurried indoors.

Clover waited at the corner, looking along the road anxiously. They'd arranged to meet away from the flat itself so they would apparently be arriving together, but Qrow was late and Clover was beginning to worry.

The loud toot of a horn made him almost jump, and he turned to see Qrow gesturing through the windscreen of a battered car which had stopped at the kerb. Sighing with relief, he opened the passenger door and got in.

"I was starting to think you'd stood me up." Clover ran a hand through his hair and looked at Qrow. "What is it?"

Qrow was grinning. "Five minutes late? That counts as on time in my book."

"Hmph. You and I read different books, then."

Qrow snorted. "Come on, Clover. We can't have a row before we've even moved in."

After a moment, Clover laughed. "I guess not... sorry, Qrow. Only I can't believe we've truly got it until we're in, you know?"

"That's fair." Qrow pulled into the traffic and drove the short distance to the flat. He parked on the patch of gravel in front of the building. "Well, here we are. You can believe it now."

A short while later, the keys were handed over and they stood in the living room. Clover looked about, then gave a satisfied nod. "Okay, I believe it now." He glanced at Qrow's bags, which he'd dropped in the corner of the room.

"Is that all your stuff? I've got a fair bit to bring from my old place."

Qrow gave a rueful smile. "Other than my computer to come in from the car, that's it. I've never put down roots, if you know what I mean."

"If we could take the car, all my things should fit in a couple of trips."

Qrow gaped at him in astonishment. "A couple of trips?"

"Yeah, I don't have much." Clover went to the window, missing Qrow's incredulous expression. "Just clothes, books, some kitchen stuff... and my models, which we'll need to be careful with."

"Models? You make models?"

Clover grinned, his face reddening a little. "Paint them. I used to play D&D, and it was better with proper painted models of all the—" His words tailed off. "Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?"

"Uh, I've heard of it, of course. Never played it, and never known anyone who painted models for it."

"Maybe we'll broaden each other's horizons." Clover crossed the room and poked Qrow's bag with his foot. "Shall we get these sorted, then?"

Later that evening, their possessions had been put away and a takeaway meal eaten. After his initial scepticism, Qrow had expressed admiration for Clover's model collection, and insisted on displaying some of them on the shelf unit in the living room.

All that remained was deciding on the bedroom arrangements.

"I don't mind the small room. The bed's better than what I've been sleeping on recently."

They stood on either side of the double bed in the main bedroom.

Clover was unconvinced. "We should share... I mean—" He saw Qrow's raised eyebrow, adding hastily, "Take it in turns. Switch at the weekend, perhaps."

Qrow stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. "If you're sure..."

"We need to share things evenly, Qrow. It's the fairest way."

Qrow smiled. "Right you are. You can go in here first, then. And we can swap each Saturday. Only—" He broke off, considering Clover thoughtfully. "What if one of us wants to... bring someone back, you know? I have a feeling that other bed wouldn't survive much... usage, if you get me."

Clover looked away, staring at the headboard. "Uh, um, well. I suppose if that were to happen, they would get to use this room. And hopefully we wouldn't both have the same idea on the same day."

Qrow watched his ears grow pink. He really gets embarrassed easily.

"I'm sure it'll work out. I don't anticipate too much activity on that front, anyway."

Clover looked at him and chuckled. "Don't do yourself down, Qrow. You're not that bad."

"Jeez, thanks for the positivity." He moved around the bed and headed to the landing. "I'll get my stuff into the other room, I think. You can sort yourself out in here."

Clover remained by the bed, hands on hips as he stared down at it. This unusual arrangement would take some getting used to, yet Qrow seemed relaxed enough. As he began inspecting the drawers and cupboards, Clover pushed his concerns to the back of his mind. They both had a place to live, which had seemed unlikely a short time ago. Whatever minor difficulties arose, he was sure they would deal with them like adults.

Chapter Text

Life in the flat quickly settled into a routine. Clover woke first and generally used the bathroom and was finishing his breakfast before Qrow emerged, yawning and bleary-eyed. He left for work, and Qrow had the place to himself. His computer was set up at one end of the dining table, which both men agreed was not ideal. Alan was happy with Clover's suggestion they buy a small desk for Qrow to use, and they decided to go shopping at the weekend. But for now, Qrow was able to push on with his current project, which he'd shown to Clover the previous evening after he had expressed an interest.

"So you design anything? Signs, posters, advertisements..."

"Pretty much, yeah. If it's visual, it has to have been designed by someone. Though looking at some work, you have to wonder," he muttered.

"And this is for a cafe? So it's their whole brand... the sign outside, the displays inside, the menus... even what goes on their website?"

"Yep." Qrow leant back in the chair as Clover peered over his shoulder. He rubbed the back of his neck with a soft groan. "When we get this desk, d'you reckon we might buy a proper chair, too? It'll stop me from getting so stiff."

"Sure thing. And in the meantime, if you need a shoulder rub, just ask." He grinned down at Qrow. "Cup of tea?"

Qrow nodded silently, and Clover left the room, whistling tunelessly.

A shoulder rub? Is he always that obvious?

But there were no other signs Clover might be interested in him, and Qrow dismissed the comment as nothing more than a friendly offer.

Saturday arrived, and they were eating breakfast when Clover dropped his knife on his plate. Frowning, he dotted his finger over the table to gather up the crumbs.

"Problem?" Qrow asked through a mouthful of toast.

"I had a thought... well, more of a realisation." Clover looked at Qrow, his brow creased.

"What's up?"

Clover's cheeks reddened slightly. "What we were saying the other day, about bringing someone back. Potentially."

Qrow raised an eyebrow. "You got someone lined up?"

"What? No, no... but if I did, or if you did... it would look odd, wouldn't it? I mean, we're supposed to be a couple. If Alan saw one of us with another person—"

"It would give the game away." Qrow looked thoughtful. "I wonder why he wanted a couple, anyway? Why not two people happy to share... like we are?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he thinks a couple would be more... stable? Seems unfair, but... his house, his rules, I guess."

"Hmm. So where does that leave us?"

Clover picked up his toast and took a bite, chewing slowly. "Not sure." He looked at Qrow. "I suppose we'd better not bring anyone back... at least for a while."

Qrow shrugged. "Not a problem for me. Not like there's a queue outside my door."

Clover stood and began to gather the plates. "Come on, Qrow. I told you before... you're alright. A bit of a goth, perhaps—" He dodged as Qrow lobbed a scrunched up paper towel at him. "But, honestly? You look fine to me." He smiled, before turning to take the crockery to the sink.

Qrow watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his face. The possibly flirty comments were adding up, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

Later that day, they returned from a successful trip to buy a computer desk. After hauling the flat pack boxes up the stairs, Qrow flopped onto the sofa and declared he could do nothing further without a cup of tea. Clover put the kettle on, mocking him gently.

"You're out of shape, Qrow. Perhaps you should come down the gym with me."

Qrow sat with his arms folded across his chest. "I'm as strong as I need to be. With you around to do the heavy lifting, I can focus on my own talents."

"Oh? What are those, exactly?" Clover's tone was teasing as he perched on the arm of the sofa, reaching out to ruffle Qrow's hair.

"Uh... making the tea?" Qrow smirked as he jumped up and walked to the kitchen, neatly evading Clover's attempted nudge as he passed.

"You need to be quicker than that to catch me, Ebi!" Qrow called over the sound of the kettle. He couldn't hear Clover's response, and poured the water into the teapot, a small smile curving his mouth.

They successfully assembled the desk with no major mishaps. The small fitting which Qrow found amongst the packaging after it was completed didn't seem to serve any purpose, and after Clover checked it over for stability, they moved the computer to its new home. Qrow stood back, hands on hips, and nodded approvingly.

"That's much better. Thanks, Clover." He smiled at the other man, who looked up from where he knelt on the floor, gathering up oddments of packaging.

"No problem; I enjoyed it. It's nice to have something of our own in here... makes it seem more like home, somehow." He scrunched the plastic into a ball and took it to the kitchen.

Qrow adjusted the height of his new chair and scooted up to the desk. He turned on the computer and spent some time arranging things on the desktop to his liking.

He didn't see Clover standing in the doorway, watching him with a smile on his face.

While Qrow was road testing his computer setup, Clover walked down to the corner shop. He made his purchase and returned, peering round the door to see Qrow still busy at the desk.

"Is it all working?"

"Yeah, it's great." Qrow turned to him, a smiling broadly. "Thanks for helping me with it."

"No problem. And I bought us a celebratory bottle." He waved the brown paper package towards Qrow. "Uh, you okay with white wine?"

"It's fine." Qrow clicked on something, nodding with satisfaction before looking up. "I don't drink that much, to be honest. White is good, though."

"I'll put it in the fridge for later." Clover went out to the kitchen, humming under his breath.

This whole 'living with someone you only just met' is working out well.

He found a space for the bottle in the fridge door, scanning the shelves before taking out some ingredients for dinner.

The meal was nearly ready. Qrow had set the table, which now had plenty of space as it didn't have to accommodate the computer. He went into the kitchen, sniffing the air appreciatively.

"Smells good! I just need to get the wine glasses." He stood in the narrow galley, looking around and squeezing against the counter to allow Clover to get past. "Uh, do we actually have any wine glasses?"

Clover looked at him. "I didn't bring any... and you obviously didn't." He grinned at Qrow's pout. "What? You moved in with barely anything."

"True," Qrow conceded. "Alan did say there was some stuff in the kitchen already... let's have a look."

Investigation of the wall cupboards, which reached up to the ceiling, showed what looked like wine glasses on a topmost shelf. But neither man could reach them.

"Give me a leg up." Qrow glanced at Clover. "I'm the lighter out of us... lift me up a bit, and I'll reach them down."

Clover raised an eyebrow, but put down the tea towel he was holding and stood behind Qrow. He raised his hands hesitantly before taking a firm hold on Qrow's hips and hoisting him with a grunt.

Qrow stretched his hand and managed to retrieve one glass without mishap. As he took the second one, Clover muttered, "I can't hold you any longer," and released his grip. Qrow slid to the floor, feeling Clover's hands run up the sides of his body. He put the glass down and turned round as Clover edged back in the narrow space.

For a moment, they looked at one another.

"Right then." Qrow took the glasses to the sink to rinse them, somehow still aware of the sensation of Clover's hands on his hips.

Clover drew in a deep breath before giving the chilli a final stir. He said nothing as Qrow carried the glasses into the living room.

"That was good." Qrow swallowed his last mouthful, licked the spoon, and put it on the plate with a clatter.

Clover rotated his glass, fingers moving back and forth on the stem. He took a sip, watching Qrow over the rim.

There had been a tension during the meal. Nothing too obvious, yet present in the averted glances and the disjointed sentences. The former relaxed camaraderie had vanished.

"Qrow, if I've upset you in some way—"

"You haven't, don't be daft. You buy a bottle of wine and cook a nice meal... why would I be upset?"

Clover rubbed his forehead. "I don't know... but I'm glad you liked the chilli. I've actually got a bit of a headache, to be honest. I might have an early night, I think."

Qrow frowned at him. "Okay... I'll clear the things away. You could always take a painkiller."

"I might do that." He got up from the table. "'Night, then. And sorry."

Before Qrow could protest there was nothing to be sorry for, Clover had left the room. With a shrug, Qrow cleared the table and stacked the dishwasher. He poured the rest of the wine into his glass and returned to the living room, idly scrolling the news on his phone without reading it. After about half an hour, he too went to bed.

Qrow was sleeping in the smaller bedroom this week. The room sharing was going well; as neither of them had thought about bringing anyone back to the flat, it was not a problem. Qrow was working on a new project and was very busy, and Clover hadn't been looking.

The bed Qrow was in was comfortable enough— a bit on the narrow side, but tolerable for a week at a time. But something had woken him. He lay in the darkness, listening for a repetition of the sound. After a minute or so of silence, he rolled over, wriggling to get comfortable. Then he heard it again.

A flurry of coughs from the room opposite his, which tailed off before being repeated. When a third bout started, Qrow slipped from his bed and crossed to Clover's room. He tapped lightly on the door.

"Clover? Everything okay?"

More coughing, which gave way to a dry hacking sound, was the response. Qrow opened the door and peered into the room.

"Clover? Do you want some water?"

There was a movement in the bed and Clover sat up, silhouetted in the faint light seeping through the curtains.

"Yes please," he croaked.

Qrow hurried to the kitchen and returned with the water. He held it out to Clover, but another bout of coughing intervened before it reached his mouth. When it had subsided, Qrow held the glass to Clover's lips.

"I'll hold it, in case you start again."

Clover took several slurps and sat back against the headboard.

"Thanks, Qrow. Sorry for waking you."

"Don't worry about it. You sound rough, Clover."

He coughed again. "I feel rough. I think I might be getting something."

Qrow held the back of his hand to Clover's forehead. The skin was clammy and warm. "Feels like you've got it already."

With a groan, Clover lay back down. "Great. Just great."

Qrow put the glass on the nightstand and stood back, hesitating. He tried to remember what Summer had done when one of the girls had a fever.

"Back in a mo." Qrow went to the bathroom, running the tap until the water warmed up. He dampened a flannel and returned to Clover. "Can I use this?"

Clover squinted up at him. "Depends what you want to do with it."

Qrow suppressed a laugh. "Don't try to be cute; you're ill."

He stooped over and wiped Clover's face gently. Clover screwed up his eyes, sighing softly, as Qrow used the cool cloth to smooth his tousled hair away from his forehead.

"Okay, I'm not being weird, but— can you sit up so I can do your back and chest?" He waited until Clover had done as he asked, before pulling up his t-shirt to run the cloth over his body. The skin was too warm, yet Clover shivered as he finished by pressing the flannel to the back of his neck.

"That feels nice. Thanks, Qrow." As Qrow stood to leave, Clover grabbed at his wrist. "Can you do it again?"

Qrow did so, and after rinsing the flannel he returned to the bedroom. Clover was fidgeting under the covers, pushing the bedding away from his body, and Qrow stepped forward to still his hands.

"Look, you don't want to do that. Why don't you take off your top if you're too warm?"

Clover struggled to sit, looking up with a mournful expression. Qrow felt a jolt in his chest and batted away any thought about what that might mean. He helped Clover upright and dragged the damp t-shirt over his head, tossing it into the corner. He wiped down Clover's body once more, and as he wriggled back under the covers, Clover reached one hand towards Qrow.

"You're very kind, Qrow. I'm glad you're here."

Qrow's hand was taken in a surprisingly firm grasp, as Clover mumbled something else he couldn't make out. He stood awkwardly in the semi-darkness as Clover's breathing deepened, and when he tried to extricate his fingers, Clover muttered again and gripped more tightly.

Huh. What do I do now?

He carefully sat on the edge of the bed. Clover was in the middle, so there wasn't a lot of room, but Qrow was tired of standing up and he was starting to feel cold. The heat coming from Clover, even though he was covered, was welcome in the chill of the night.

Qrow tried one more time to loosen his hand, with no success. For a sleeping man Clover's grip was firm, so he gave up and lay down, hoping it would soon slacken so he could return to his own bed.

The next thing Qrow knew, the sun was creeping around the side of the building and filling the room with a yellow glow. Somehow Clover still held his hand, and he felt comfortably warm. Well, mostly. His feet were icy cold.

As he tried to move, there was a grunt from Clover as he stirred beside him. Qrow looked back, taking in the upper part of his body which was uncovered, the covers pushed down to his waist.

"Nghn." Clover yawned, opening one eye to see Qrow gazing at him. "Qrow? What are you—"

"Awake, finally. Can I have my hand back, please?" Qrow grinned at Clover's expression when he saw how he was clasping Qrow's hand. He released it as though it were on fire, shuffling across the bed to put some space between them.

"Sorry... I don't know what I was thinking." Clover's words were a mumble as he scrambled to pull the covers up to his chin.

Qrow twisted to face him, the grin softening to something else. "No worries... you were feverish, that's all. I did try to get away, but you were making it a bit difficult."

Clover rubbed his face, finally looking at Qrow. "When I'm ill, holding someone's hand always helps me get to sleep. But I shouldn't have— I'm really sorry."

It was all Qrow could do not to laugh at his remorseful expression. "It's honestly okay. If I'd tried hard, I'm sure I could have broken your iron grip." He smiled. "The worst of it is my feet are now blocks of ice, but I'll survive."

Clover opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. After a moment, Qrow reached out a hand. "Can I see how hot you are?" Very, his brain unhelpfully replied, as Clover nodded. Ignoring the thought, he felt Clover's forehead, then the back of his neck.

"Feels almost normal... how are you? You burned through that pretty quickly."

"Always have... Mum said I have a high metabolism." He rolled over and sat up. "Could you pass the water, please?"

Qrow slid off the bed and passed him the glass. "Right then, if you're no longer at death's door, I'll head back to my room. Lucky it's Sunday; I can have a lie-in." He looked at Clover for a moment, then turned and left the room.

Clover drained the glass and set it down. He shuffled into the bed and lay on his back, hands clasped under his head. The headache had gone and apart from a dry throat, he didn't feel too bad.

Except when he thought about Qrow. I basically trapped him in here half the night.

But Qrow had assured him he could have left if he'd tried harder.

He didn't want to try harder.

Clover stirred, the sheet brushing his skin and causing him to bite his lip, trying to ignore the effect of the sensation on his body.

The implication of Qrow's comment was... what, exactly? Clover could think of one interpretation. If it was true, things could get— interesting, or else their comfortable situation could fall apart. Which of these it would be, he was not sure.

Chapter Text

Clover woke later to clattering sounds from the kitchen and the smell of toast. He lay still for a while, his stomach craving food, but his brain swirling with the recollection of last night. As he sat up, he shook his head slightly. This had to be faced, and thankfully his headache had gone.

After grabbing a clean t-shirt to wear, he headed for the kitchen. Finding no-one there, he peered into the living room. Qrow sat at the table, a slice of toast in one hand and his phone in the other. He glanced up to see Clover in the doorway, and dropped the toast on his plate.

"You feeling better? Want some breakfast?" Qrow put his phone on the table and scooted past him, squeezing through the gap without waiting for an answer.

Clover frowned and followed him to the kitchen. "Uh, toast would be good. You don't have to wait on me though, Qrow."

There was no immediate reply. Qrow slid the bread into the toaster and reached a glass from the cupboard.

"Juice? Or coffee? Or both?" He threw the question over his shoulder, not meeting Clover's confused look.

"Both sounds good. But, look—"

"It's okay, really. You're not well, you might drop something, or—"

He bustled about, pouring juice and making coffee. When the toast popped, he put the slices on a plate and handed it wordlessly to Clover, before taking the drinks and edging past him to the living room. Clover stood, staring after him, before slowly following.

Qrow finished his toast standing by the table and gulped down the rest of his juice. He gathered his things and went to the kitchen without a word.

Clover took a seat, scratching his head as he picked up a piece of toast. Then with a frown, he put it back on the plate and stood up.

"Qrow! What is—"

"Sorry, Clover. I just need to pop out." With the briefest of glances towards him, Qrow strode to the front door and left.

Clover slowly returned to his rapidly cooling toast and began to eat. He'd expected a little embarrassment between them after the previous night, but this? He didn't understand.

Qrow returned about an hour later. Clover had showered and gone back to bed. He felt listless and his headache had returned, although not as badly as before. The flat was silent as Qrow clicked the door closed.

He paused, and when there was no cheerful voice calling to him, he let out a sigh. Uncertain whether he was relieved or disappointed, he removed his shoes and went to the living room, flopping onto the sofa. The awkwardness when he saw Clover earlier had taken him by surprise, and the thought that he'd taken advantage of a sick man sat firmly in his brain.

But he was holding my hand.

That was a subconscious reaction. It meant nothing.

So why feel embarrassed?

He couldn't answer that question and decided to disregard it. If he behaved normally, then Clover would too, and things could return to how they were before.

With nothing else to do, he turned on the computer and looked at the newest project he was bidding for. That would be a worthwhile use of his time.

Clover roused up, woolly headed and bleary-eyed. The headache had faded, at least. He pushed himself out of bed and peered out of the window. Qrow's car was parked outside, and it was with mild trepidation that he pulled on some clothes and left the bedroom. After getting a glass of water from the kitchen, he went into the living room.

Qrow looked up as he entered.

"Hi there... how are you feeling now?"

Clover stretched out on the sofa and put his glass on the floor.

"Not too bad. Head's still a bit fuzzy, but I feel better than last night."

Qrow tapped his fingers on the desk.

"Yeah, about that."

"I'm really sorry, Qrow. I didn't mean—"

"It's okay. I could have left you to it... I just fell asleep, y'know?"

Clover half sat up and twisted to look at Qrow fully. "So we can forget about it and stop being so weird round each other?"

Qrow nodded. "Sounds good." He looked at Clover for a moment before turning back to gaze at the screen.

Clover lounged back against the cushions.

So that's all sorted. Thank goodness.

The next week was quiet. No furniture to assemble. No one falling ill.

Clover was working away for two days with an overnight stay. Qrow had a busy day visiting a client and then working at his desk until early evening, when his stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten for hours. He stood up, stretching and massaging his lower back with a groan. As he rolled his shoulders, he reflected on how he had never got that shoulder rub from Clover.

Heh, he was probably joking anyway.

He looked around the room. The only light came from his computer screen and the street lamps outside; the corners of the room were dark and the flat oddly silent. A glance at the time told him it was too late to cook anything, so he sat back down at the computer to order a takeaway meal.

As he ate in silence later, Qrow realised he had rarely lived on his own. House-sharing at university and for some while after, before that ended and he found he couldn't afford a place of his own, meant he'd never acclimatised to a solitary life.

That's why this feels so odd. Why it feels empty.

Once the food was gone, he tidied up and stood indecisively in the living room, uncertain whether to do some more work. A tweak in his back told him this wasn't a good plan, so he turned on the TV instead. Despite the multitude of channels, there was nothing which caught his attention, so he switched it off and went to his bedroom.

When Clover had left for his overnight trip that morning, he'd told Qrow he could use the double bed if he liked.

"It's a bonus night of being able to stretch out. I'll expect a return of the favour if you're ever away." With his customary smile he'd left, and now Qrow stood in the doorway of the bigger bedroom, staring at the bed with its neatly smoothed covers. His back was playing up, so a night in the more comfortable bed made sense. A shiver ran up his spine, which he shrugged off with a laugh with sounded strange in the quiet flat.

After he'd used the bathroom and pulled on his pyjamas, there was only a moment's hesitation before he turned off the light in his room and crossed to Clover's. Sliding between the sheets felt different, and then he remembered these were Clover's sheets, not his.

He turned onto his side, pulling the pillow to get comfortable. The delicate, floral fragrance of Clover's aftershave teased his nostrils, and he shifted in the bed. The memory of sleeping in here holding Clover's hand pushed its way into his head, and it was some while before he finally fell asleep.

Late the following afternoon there was a phone call from Summer. Qrow was deep in concentration and almost let it to go to voicemail, but he answered it just before it did.

"Hi Sum, what's up?"

"We're all fine; how are you?" Her tone was a little— flat, Qrow thought.

"Good, good. But what is it? You never ring normally."

There was a brief pause. "I didn't want to message you... I've got a bit of bad news, Qrow."

Cold washed through Qrow's body. "What's happened? Are the girls—"

"Like I said, we're okay. But I just heard— Travis, from uni. He's... well, he's dead."

Qrow removed the phone from his ear and stared at it. Then he raised it again, his mouth working.

"Travis? I haven't— what happened? How... what happened?"

"It was heart failure. It seems he had some sort of heart defect, but nobody knew. Then one day—last week, it was—he collapsed. And by the time they'd got him to hospital, it was too late."

Qrow swallowed. This was stupid. People his age didn't drop dead from heart failure.

"Okay... thanks for telling me, Sum. Is there a funeral or something?"

"It's already happened... he was living in India, so... that's it."

The computer screen blurred before Qrow's eyes, and he rubbed at them roughly.

"Well, thanks for letting me know. Give my love to the girls. And Tai, of course."

"Qrow, wait! You don't have to—"

Qrow broke in as he heard the front door opening.

"It's okay... Clover's just come in. I'll catch you later." He closed the call and put the phone carefully on the desk, before pushing himself to standing.

"Qrow! It's only me," Clover called from the hall.

Qrow's mouth refused to form any sensible reply, and he turned as Clover walked into the room.

"There you are! Gods, that was a tough two—" Clover fell silent. "What's up? What's happened?"

"He was only two years older than me. Stupid bastard, always had to be the first one to try anything."

Qrow stared at Clover, the tears tracking down his cheeks. In three steps Clover was with him, catching his arm as his knees sagged.

"Qrow, please! What is it?" Clover put his arms around Qrow and led him to the sofa. They sat down and Clover drew away slightly, but Qrow grabbed at his shirt with one hand. With a frown, Clover slid an arm across his shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze, as Qrow wept against his chest.

After a minute or so, the gulping sobs gave way to sniffles and Qrow sat up, rubbing his eyes and nose. His other hand patted vainly at the large damp patch on Clover's shirt, and he said, "Uh, I've made a bit of a mess."

Clover squeezed his shoulder harder. "Don't worry, it'll wash out. But what's going on? You've had bad news, I take it?"

A single tear trickled down Qrow's face. "Yeah, you could say that."

Clover bit his lip. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Qrow gazed into his eyes and nodded.

Travis was two years ahead of Qrow at university, living back on campus for his final year. They shared the kitchen in the accommodation block and had grown close, finally starting to date after Christmas. After a month or so they slept together. Qrow had never gone this far with anyone before, and—

"He was just... kind. Gentle. I'd never— well, it was new, and I was a bit scared. Didn't tell him that! I think he knew, though." Qrow sniffed loudly. "And it was great; we had the best time until he graduated. Didn't split up as such... we stayed friends, but our lives went in different directions. He went travelling, and we kind of kept in touch, but... you know how it is. His life was over there, and mine was here." He frowned. "I should've made more of an effort. And now... now it's too late." He swallowed hard, and Clover patted his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry. I— there's nothing I can say to make things better, only... well, I'm glad I got back when did." He lifted his arm away, and Qrow caught his hand.

"So am I. You've been— you're just— well, thank you," he mumbled, looking at the floor. He still held Clover's hand firmly. Clover looked at it, a small crease between his eyebrows.

"It was, uh... it was odd being away from home last night." His voice was steady and, after a quick glance at Qrow, he stared across the room.

Qrow coughed. "It was odd here as well. Too quiet." After a moment he added, "I, uh... slept in the big bed like you said I could. Hope that was okay."

"Of course... was it alright? Did you sleep well?"

The smallest smile curved Qrow's mouth. "Yeah." His shoulders relaxed, and he glanced at Clover. "And, uh... thanks. For all the— comforting." He lifted his hand, taking Clover's with it. "I've kind of taken over your hand here."

Clover chuckled. "Guess it's only fair that it's your turn now."

Qrow shifted on the sofa to face Clover. "I'm gonna say something now, and you might not like it. You might want a new flatmate afterwards. But... this stuff with Travis, it's made me realise. It's stupid to let things slide, to miss the chance of... of something." His eyes were fixed on Clover's face.

"Okay... say it, then." Clover found he was gripping Qrow's fingers more tightly and relaxed his hand with an effort.

"So I slept in the big bed. And... I could smell you. On the pillowcase. It was nice." Qrow's cheeks were flushed, but he kept his gaze steady. Clover's eyes widened, and he looked at Qrow.

"Oh! What does that— I mean, that's... good?"

Qrow nodded. "After that night when you were sick, I wasn't sure... things got kinda weird. I didn't know what it was, or how you— fact is, I still don't. Do you—"

Clover smiled. "I do. But I didn't want to push it, 'cause I wasn't certain how you felt. About stuff. About us."

Qrow's brow wrinkled. "Could there be an us, d'you think?"

Clover raised their still clasped hands. "Don't see why not."

Qrow's mouth widened into a smile. "Right then, seeing as how this is going so well, I'm gonna risk one more thing. But don't think I'm being... easy, 'cause that's not what I mean."

Clover looked at him in confusion.

"Can I— I mean, could we— shit, this sounds ridiculous. All I mean is, it'd be nice if I didn't have to sleep alone... just for tonight. If you see what I mean. I'm not trying to push you into anything, I only—"

Clover moved towards him and gave him an awkward hug. "I get it. Just sleeping, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Why not?" Clover touched Qrow's cheek lightly. "Plenty of time for whatever might come next."

Clover was already in bed by the time Qrow had finished in the bathroom. He hesitated outside the room, a coil of uncertainty in his gut.

Is this wise? Can you sleep with someone when you're not sleeping with them?

He didn't know, but Clover was relaxed about it, and Qrow needed company.

So here goes.

He entered the bedroom, pushing the door almost closed. The lamp on Clover's nightstand cast a warm glow across the bed, and Qrow smiled at the turned back sheet. Clover patted the mattress.

"Come on, then."

Qrow frowned. "You're sure? Because if not—"

"I'm sure. In you hop."

Qrow chuckled as he slid between the sheets. Clover drew the covers up and wriggled himself down. After a moment he rolled onto his side, head propped on his hand.

"How do you feel about a kiss goodnight?"

"I could probably go that far," Qrow said with a smile.

Clover leant in, pressing a kiss to Qrow's cheek. As he moved back, Qrow slipped an arm out from under the covers and gently cupped his face.

"Thanks for this, Clover." He lifted his head and kissed Clover's mouth softly, before settling back on the pillow.

"Any time. And if I start to snore, feel free to poke me."

"Likewise. 'Night, then."

"Goodnight, Qrow."

Clover laid down, turning to face the outer edge of the bed. Qrow did the same, fidgeting a bit before finding a comfortable position. One leg bent backwards and his foot brushed against Clover's.

Clover did not move his foot away.

"Please, call me Alan." He led the two women up the stairs and opened the front door of the flat.

"Here we are. It hasn't been empty long... the previous tenants moved out last month. Lovely couple, and they said they were extremely happy here. But they had decided to get married at last, and there was talk of adopting a child, so they needed a more family-friendly home."

He turned to them with a smile. "But for a professional couple like yourselves, I would say this is ideal."