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Qrow didn’t always have an affinity for other people’s hair.
It’s only after Ozpin grants him his crow form that he starts to pay notice to it. He starts ruffling the fine hairs at Taiyang’s nape, pets the soft strands of Summer’s mane when she gets upset. He and Raven start to regularly groom each other, taking turns to brush out knots with gentle fingers and slow strokes, back turned and head tilted.
And even years later, it doesn’t stop. He constantly rubs at Ruby’s head to hear her grumble and laugh, does it even more now with that new haircut of hers that makes her hair stand on end. He’s extra careful with Yang’s long locks, tenderly pushes the hair out of her face with calloused fingers. He flicks at the tufts of Blake’s ear, ruffles Nora’s bangs. Playfully yanks at Ren’s braid and tries to smooth Jaune‘s blond spikes, laughing at the way they try to bat his hand away.
So, it takes a particular type of self-control to hold himself back when he sees Clover’s hair for the first time. It looks soft to the touch and the short strands on his scalp only emphasize that damn tuft at the front of his head, fluffed up like a spiky cloud. Qrow’s dying to sink his fingers in it and tug.
Just like now, with Clover sitting next to Qrow on the couch, ankle over his knee and his arm thrown languidly over the back of it. Qrow can feel Clover’s body heat in waves at his side and the back of his neck.
“Why am I not surprised to hear that you’ve never been sick before?” Qrow drawls, gesturing with his hand as he arches an eyebrow, “I would’ve thought the opposite, what with your refusal to acknowledge sleeves.”
“It’s true! Never a day in my life,” Clover says, chuckling as he leans forward, eyes sparkling, “And maybe I don’t wear sleeves for a reason, you ever thought of that? Maybe I’m trying to build up a resistance to the cold here in Solitas.“
Qrow scoffs, lips twitching into a smile.
“Oh, I clearly can’t argue with that type of logic, lucky charm,” he says, “Maybe you should just skip the middleman and start running around naked.”
Clover fully laughs at that, tossing his head back and Qrow’s eyes are drawn to the strong line of neck, his prominent adam’s apple. He runs his hand across his scalp and Qrow zeroes in on his hair this time. Clover’s tuft is slightly flattened now, all mussed up with random pieces sticking out in all directions. Qrow can’t help the way he leans forward, face concentrated as he reaches a hand out.
Clover doesn’t notice as he starts to turn his head to look at Qrow, a smirk on his face.
“I think you just want to see me-“ Clover starts, abruptly coming to a stop because Qrow is touching his head now.
Qrow threads his fingers through Clover’s hair, nails lightly scratching as he ruffles it, swooping his hand forward and up to get it looking how it should be. He leans back only when he’s satisfied, absentmindedly nodding his hand.
Qrow only realizes what he’s done when he looks at Clover’s face, sees the way his lips are curled in a lopsided grin.
“....Are you done?” Clover questions, sounding bemused as he raises his eyebrows and Qrow groans, wiping down his face.
“Shit- sorry,” Qrow mumbles, avoiding eye contact, “I can usually control myself better than that. I don’t know what came over me.”
“No, no, it’s alright,” Clover says, and then he laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Actually, this explains some things. I figured you hated my hair, the way you’d be glaring at it sometimes.”
Qrow’s ears go hot at that. Had he really been that obvious?
“But, if I would’ve known it’s because you just wanted to mess with it....” Clover continues lowly, tone teasing but kind as he leans forward, fingers lightly brushing the back of Qrow’s neck, “I would have let you put your hands all over me a long time ago.”
Qrow’s mouth goes dry and he licks his lips. Clover’s eyes track the movement.
“I was afraid my hands were gonna be crushed under the weight of that big head of yours, lucky charm,” he retorts, a little breathless as he raises an eyebrow, and Clover chuckles.
“Be that as it may, I’d let you do whatever you want with it,” Clover says, and his voice sounds so sincere that Qrow is tempted to do just that, “You can play with my hair now, if you want to.”
And Qrow does want to, so much that his nerves are nearly singing with it. Clover must see how much Qrow wants it because his smile goes a little mischievous and he proceeds to scrub roughly at his scalp. His hair is an absolute mess now and Qrow groans, hands already reaching for his head to fix it.
“You- you are the worst,” Qrow grumbles and Clover presses his lips together not to laugh, shoulders shaking as Qrow starts to fuss at his hair, “Absolutely horrible.”
“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” Clover retorts, dips his head so Qrow can get better access.
Qrow rolls his eyes but his fingers are gentle as they brush through Clover’s ruff, deliberate as they drift against his hairline. Clover shivers from the way Qrow’s nails drag across his scalp.
“That so?” Qrow quips, voice low as he curls his lips into a crooked smile, slightly tilts his chin, “Sound pretty confident about that.”
Clover quietly chuckles, tips his head up to catch Qrow’s gaze. His smile is a bit heated.
“Going to tell me I’m wrong?” he rumbles, tone all self-assured and velvety, his eyes slightly lidded and Qrow’s ears go pink at the tips.
Qrow clears his throat and pulls away, fingers lingering as they drag on the way down. Clover rocks forward, like he wants to chase after Qrow’s hands.
“I think this would be better if you turn around,” Qrow says, a little breathless as he raises an eyebrow, trying for nonchalant as he gestures at Clover with a circling finger, “Besides, I know better than to feed your ego after midnight, lucky charm.”
Clover laughs at that, eyes bright.
“It’s not even past 8 o’clock yet,” Clover says cheekily, laughs again as Qrow sends him an unimpressed look.
Clover begins to turn before he suddenly stops, a sly look on his face. He slides himself off the couch and onto the floor, slotting his back between Qrow’s legs like he belongs there. His bulk presses against the sides of Qrow’s calves like a warm wall and Qrow’s thighs twitch.
“So you can have free reign over my head,” Clover clarifies, tilting his head back with a wink and heat crawls up Qrow’s neck.
“You don’t miss a chance, huh?” Qrow mumbles, but he softly cradles the back of Clover’s head with calloused fingers, absentmindedly thumbing at the areas behind his ears.
And Clover shivers, leaning even further into Qrow’s hands.
“I didn’t get to be the leader of the Ace-ops,” he starts, voice low and a bit heated, lips curled into a smile, “By denying myself a good thing.”
Then he looks into Qrow’s eyes, gaze keen and with implications and Qrow sharply inhales, throat clicking as he swallows. He leans forward as he twines his fingers in Clover’s tuft, tenderly grips at it. Clover tongues at his bottom lip.
“Eyes forward, lucky charm,” Qrow says, can’t hide the way his voice dips, gravel in his tone as a flustered pink grows across his nape, “I know the view is nice, but I can’t do this if you keep your head back like that.”
Clover chuckles quietly at that and it comes from deep within his chest, a rich rumbly sound that settles in Qrow’s bones like warm syrup.
“Okay, okay,” he relents, straightening his neck, eyes crinkled at the corners, “I’m at your mercy, Mr. Branwen.”
Qrow scoffs but his lips twitch up into a smile, eyebrows quirked. He flexes his fingers and gets to work.
He starts with gently plucking at Clover’s hair, little tugs that make Clover’s scalp tingle. Digs his hands in and fluffs up the strands, drags his fingers down to smooth it out again. Takes his time.
And Clover is as receptive and as willing as he is with anything else, eager in Qrow’s hands. He hums when Qrow brushes through his ruff, sighs when Qrow scratches his head. When Qrow pets at his baby hair, running the back of his nails against Clover’s nape, Clover outright trembles. Qrow’s mouth goes dry at the way Clover’s breath hitches.
Heart in his ears, Qrow tentatively swipes down the back of Clover’s neck, adds just a bit of pressure with the movement and Clover groans, dipping his chin. Exposes more of the column as he sways back, pressing more into Qrow’s fingers.
Smoothing down Clover’s collar to get it out of the way, Qrow pushes his thumbs at either side of Clover’s spine, smooths down his neck with firm pressure. Works his way back up with his palms, relaxing the muscles there with slow deliberate kneads and Clover sighs. When Qrow strokes down his shoulders, digging the heel of his hand into his shoulder blade, Clover just melts, eyelids fluttering half-closed.
“You carry a lot of tension in your shoulders, lucky charm,” Qrow murmurs, prods at a knot just below the base of his neck and Clover hisses, “This pressure okay?”
“Mmm yeah, it's good. But could you just- like a touch harder-“ Clover cuts himself off with a groan when Qrow does, switching to his knuckles to roll across his traps and Qrow huffs out a laugh at Clover’s reaction, “Perfect. That’s perfect.”
Qrow continues like that for some time, working at Clover’s muscles until they become lax, caressing his skin in slow rubs that lull the both of them into leisure. Qrow hasn’t felt this content in awhile.
(He’s forgotten how good it feels, just to touch another person. To touch them without ulterior motives, without the expectation of carnal pleasures.
It’s rare that he’s allowed to indulge in his corvid instincts, to groom and to pamper. And Qrow misses it, more than he’d like to admit. Misses the intimacy wrought through skinship.
The last time he got to satiate like this was when he was still in his team-)
Qrow’s fingers stutter. Clover, ever perceptive, notices.
“Qrow?” Clover questions, flicks his eyes up to try to see him, “Are you alright?”
And Qrow lets out a heavy breath, stopping his hands on Clover’s shoulders.
(He tries not to think of silver eyes and bright smiles. Quirky blond eyebrows and cocky looks.
Of hair as endless and as black as night, scornful irises too similar to his own.)
“I’m fine,” Qrow says, a bitter smile on his face as he tries for casual but Clover doesn’t let him; Clover slightly twists to the side as he tips his head back, establishes eye contact.
“Qrow,” is all he says but it’s enough.
Qrow rolls his jaw, gaze flitting all around the room. His nostrils flare.
“....I used to do things like this a lot, once upon a time,” he says, tone quiet and a bit wistful, “When I used to have a team.”
A pause, the only sound their breathes.
“....And what happened?” Clover says, but his eyes are heavy like he already has an idea and Qrow barks out a laugh, too harsh to be genuine.
“It’s complicated, lucky charm,” Qrow says, lips twisted as he wipes at his stubble, suddenly looking tired, “I don’t think I can explain it all even if I tried.”
Clover brushes the back of his knuckles against Qrow’s leg, patient, and Qrow’s tense shoulders drop a little.
“....I missed it. There’s not a lot of people I’m willing to do this with,” Qrow admits, trails his fingers up to thread them in Clover’s hair, gently gripping at the roots and Clover’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, “But.... but it’s easy with you, somehow. You make me feel....”
(Steady. Wanted. Almost like his semblance doesn’t matter. Like he’s bathed in the sun, warm from the inside out.
Clover feels like a home that he finally belongs to.)
He doesn’t say any of that, throat tight but Clover looks at him like he understands, gaze so fierce it nearly burns him. Clover fully moves around to face him and Qrow keeps his hands on him as he turns, the hand on Clover’s shoulder sliding across and down to his chest. The one in Clover’s hair slips lower, heel kissing the nape of his neck as Qrow’s fingertips press into his scalp.
(Qrow can feel Clover’s heartbeat beneath his palm, drumming like it's trying to escape his ribcage.)
Clover’s hands are on both of Qrow’s knees now and he runs them up his thighs as he leans forward, eyes lidded. Qrow shivers as he lets out a shaky exhale, pupils so wide there’s only a sliver of red left.
“Let me take you to dinner, Qrow,” Clover rumbles and Qrow breath catches in his throat, “Just one night. Let me have you for one night.”
And desire punches through Qrow so fast that it leaves him reeling, his insides feeling like they’re burning. Clover looks at him like he’s never wanted anything more.
“Okay,” Qrow rasps, heart in his ears, helpless under the intensity of Clover’s gaze, “Okay.”
Clover sways closer, nosing at him. Qrow’s eyes flutter shut.
“I want to kiss you right now,” Clover whispers, a confession and Qrow is closing the distance between them.
The kiss starts off modest, merely a touching of lips, but Qrow makes a small noise in the back of his throat and that has Clover surging forward, catching the sound. He presses Qrow into the couch, crowding him in with his bulk.
(Clover kisses with a single-minded focus, open-mouthed and a little dirty, confident in the tilt of his jaw, the caress of his lips. He gives as much as he takes, knows exactly what he wants and isn’t afraid to show it.
And Qrow is swept up into it, feeling like he’s about to burst through his skin.)
They part for air, resting their foreheads together. They pant against each other’s mouths.
“I should go,” Clover says, voice all gravel but he doesn’t move from his position, running a thumb across Qrow’s hips in a scorching line, “Need to wake up early tomorrow.”
“Then you should go, lucky charm,” Qrow replies but it’s not very convincing as he noses across Clover’s cheek, grazing the edge of his jaw with his mouth and Clover groans, pressing in again.
They kiss again, just little bumps of the lips, once, twice, thrice, before Clover is pulling back again, eyes wide and dark.
“I wish I could stay,” he says with great regret, a crooked smile on his face as he thumbs at Qrow’s kiss-swollen mouth, “But let’s save this for another day.”
Qrow sighs as he reluctantly drags his hands from Clover, dropping the back of his head against the couch.
“No rest for the weary, huh?” Qrow mumbles and Clover laughs, softly shaking his head.
“Something like that,” Clover says, eyes creased at the corners.
Clover moves to grab at Qrow’s hand, brings it close to his face. Exposes the sensitive inside of Qrow’s wrist and brushes his lips against the pulse hammering there, staring into Qrow’s eyes. Qrow shivers from head to toe.
“I look forward to taking you out, Qrow,” Clover mumbles into his skin, a promise and an admission all rolled into one and Qrow’s ears turn pink at the tips.
“I do too, Clover,” Qrow says, voice strangled.
“Walk me to the door, handsome?” Clover suggests, eyes bright as he rubs at Qrow’s palm with his thumb, a small smile on his face.
(And how can Qrow say no, with Clover looking at him like that?)