Love (And Other Difficulties)

Like a Rock (Qrow Branwen)

Qrow slept like a goddamn rock.

At first, you had assumed it was due to his constant drinking as alcohol tended to knock him out cold for a good few hours with no hope of waking him, which often left you dragging him home from bars and keeping an eye on him until he woke up again (you were concerned for his safety, you couldn't help that you loved the man). But even after his drinking had come to a halt and he abstained from any sort of alcohol, it remained impossible to wake him up when he didn't want to be. There were mornings where you'd think he was dead if you couldn't see his chest moving up and down in a steady rhythm.

"C'mon, Qrow, we don't have all morning to do this," You sighed as you shook his sleeping form, knowing you'd be blamed if he were late for the meeting with Ironwood, "Wake up!"

"Mmm, five more minutes," He groaned as he rolled over, turning away from your pushy hands.

"I already gave you five more minutes about fifteen minutes ago!" When he snored in response you rolled your eyes, moving to sit on the bed beside him; his ribs could be rather sensitive if poked at the right angles, so if you could just-

You were led right into a trap.

It wasn't unusual for the two of you to become a tangle of limbs at some point during the night, as Qrow's legs were long and he wasn't prone to sticking to his side of the bed. He almost seemed incapable of not clinging to your sleeping form or having a leg wrapped around yours as if to anchor you to him and even on the hot, sweaty nights you'd find him pressed up against you when you awoke in the middle of the night about to die from a heat stroke. He had almost an iron grip on you that was impossible to slip out of unless you attempted to wake him up, in which he'd do what he normally did and roll over away from you so you'd leave him alone; there weren't many times where you could manage to escape his iron grip but sometimes... you didn't really want to.

You currently find yourself in his arms, his face buried comfortably in your shoulder, as he let out a content sigh. You consider struggling but instead decide to wrap your arms around him, hand comfortably lacing its way through his hair in a soothing manner; this was only going to encourage him to fall back asleep however you couldn't resist him when he was cuddly. It was a rare thing for him to be so openly needy (and that's not to say the man wasn't craving your affection, he just rarely liked to show it in fear of judgment).

You'd just give him another five minutes.

Ironwood would understand.