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#but digging for and posting content every night gave me such comfort (maybe even purpose?) in a tough time in my life
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Hello! I just saw your post about wanting remus prompts? Obvs no pressure but I cant get this out of my mind of the rat man..... BAKING
Yes... I need the rat man baking. This took me a bit because I’m really bad at writing short prompts but I like how it turned out! Originally, this was meant to be straight fluff but I couldn’t seem to get away from my personal headcanon that Remus stress bakes lol but its still mostly fluff with a little bit of vulnerability from the rat man <3
Cookies and Coping Mechanisms
Description: After SvSR, Remus knows that everyone is upset by the outcome of episode. His solution? Dragging a reluctant Virgil into the kitchen to make cookies.
Word Count: 1747
Characters: Remus, Virgil (Platonic Dukexiety)
Warnings: Remus-Type Content (Sexual innuendo, Allusions to Drugs, References to gore, etc.), Flirting, Swearing
---
    “Come on, Virgie. This'll be fun.”
    “Last time I heard that, you ended up on fire, Remus.” Virgil muttered as he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets, cast a cautious glance at the bouncing creative side.
    “You can't spell fun without fire!” Remus chirped happily.
     Virgil stopped in his tracks, looking up in disbelief. “Yes, you can—”
     “Not if you actually want to have fun, Gerard Gay.” Remus threw out over his shoulder as he continued his manic dive into the cupboards. Metal pans flew up to the countertop as Remus swung around to throw open another drawer with a loud clang.
    Virgil growled. His eyes darkened with exasperation as Remus tossed a bag of flour on the counter and a puff of white haze shot up into the air. “I'm so glad that Logan soundproofed the kitchen so you can as be as loud as you want.”
     “Hey, that was Roman's fault." Remus stopped digging through the fridge to point at Virgil. “He brought the firecrackers—”
     “You lit them!” Virgil threw his hands up in a gesture to the large scorch marks in front of the stove.
     “Irrelevant.” Remus purred with a playful grin. “Now preheat the oven for me, emo boy.”
    “To what?” Virgil muttered as he stalked toward the oven.
    “350 degrees, baby!”
    “Don’t call me baby.” Virgil sighed, barely looking up at the mess Remus was making as he danced around the kitchen. “I don't even know why we're doing this. Cookies can’t fix what happened.”
    “Well, it sure as hell can't hurt, Donnie Darko,” Remus winked, shooting finger guns at Virgil. “especially since we’re catering to each of them personally. Everyone can hate each other and all, but they can't hate cookies.”
    Virgil paused in confusion.  “You said we were making one batch of cookies, Remus. I didn't sign up for a whole day with—”
    “I never said we weren't. Just one batch is all we need.” Remus grinned with a teasing smile, taunting him to continue.
    “How can one batch of cookies cater to all of them?” Virgil wondered. “I mean I get Patton, but the others are a little harder to please.”
    “Don't you worry. I'll spill the beans,” Remus paused with a suggestive grin. “but first I need you to strip, Frightmare before Christmas.”
    Virgil let out an exaggerated sigh as he ducked his head to hide the redness in his cheeks. “Whatever fantasy your trying to get me play out, I won't—”
     “Lose the hoodie, Virge. Everything else is optional.” Remus interrupted, grinning suggestively as Virgil tipped his head up. “Unless—"
    “No.”
    “Fine,” Remus giggled as he gave in to Virgil. Before he walked away, he slipped a piece of paper across the table as Virgil slipped his jacket off and laid it off to the side. “It’s to get nice and toasty in here and I don’t need you looking like you just got off a sweet bender covered in a suspicious white powder when we go to deliver the goods.”
    “Okay—Okay! It’s off now.” Virgil through his hands up in exasperation as Remus wiggled his eyebrow up at him. “You can stop tormenting me.”
    “Great.” Remus cheered with a flourish of his hands as he tossed the flour at Virgil. He giggled as the bag erupted into a white puff all over Virgil, leaning into his friend’s scowl before returning to hopping about the kitchen. “Mix the dry ingredients and I'll start on the wet stuff.”
    “Great.” Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes as he straightened out his black tee and brushed the flour off himself. Reluctantly, he picked up the flour to begin as he looked up at Remus for explanation. “Now, tell me why you think this is going to make everything better.”
    “Well, Pattycake obviously loves homemade gifts—"
     “Patton is the easiest to please.” Virgil muttered as he measured the flour. “That's not an accomplishment.”
   “Yeah, well. All Roman wants is attention. The fact that we were thinking of him is enough to brighten his spirits,” Remus grinned as he started to whisk together his ingredients. “and the snake boy has a sweet tooth. He hates to admit it, but sugar is Janus’ comfort food.”
    Virgil paused. His eyes narrowed on Remus with skepticism in his eyes. “And what about Logan?”
     Remus’ grin widened as he swiped Virgil’s bowl and began combining the ingredients. “Well, we're making thumbprint cookies and—”
    “—and thumbprint cookies require jam.” Virgil deadpanned as Remus nodded. He stared blankly as the creative side finished the dough and reached below the counter.
     “Bingo, bad boy.” Remus chirped as he slid a jar of Crofter's across the table.
    Virgil eyed the jam suspiciously as he bit his lip. “Where exactly did you pull that from—”
    “Not relevant.” Remus cheered brightly as he handed Virgil a spoon and started forming the cookies. “Start scooping and don't skimp on the jam. I don't want to offend the nerdy professor.”
    “Re, this is—” Virgil stared as he followed behind Remus, dropping jam into the indents of the cookies. “—surprisingly thoughtful.”
    “So, what?” Remus grinned, raising an eyebrow at Virgil. “Can't a guy do a nice thing every once in a while?”
     Virgil blinked, trying to stifle his own shock. “You try to convince Thomas to jump out of moving cars or eat dirt at least daily. Nice things just aren’t what you’re about. Are they?”
     “Maybe, I don’t like being predictable.” Remus chuckled as he took the tray from Virgil and slipped it in the oven.
    “Holy shit,” Virgil’s mouth dropped open as Remus set the timer. “You actually care about how the others are feeling right now?”
    “What?” Remus mused, raising an eyebrow at Virgil. “Did you think I was here for my own amusement, stormy night?”
    “I mean, kinda.” Virgil dropped his hands to his side, tugging at the hem of his tee. “I didn’t know that you were capable of—"”
    “Of course, you wouldn't think so.” Remus interrupted with a bored tone, sounding exasperated.
     Virgil paused as Remus dropped his voice. The uncharacteristic serious in his friend's muted tone stopped him in his tracks and he turned back to see Remus leaned on his elbows, staring at the countertop.
    “After this last video without us, everyone's thoughts about themselves are turning to crap and I feel them spiraling just the way you do, emo boy.” Remus smirked as Virgil stared back at him with shock in his eyes. “So, yeah. I used to make Thomas repeat this recipe over and over in his head until he memorized the damn thing.”
    “You did that so you could bake for the others if they had a bad day?” Virgil blinked, shocked at the sudden change from Remus’ usual boisterous behavior.
    Remus let out a long sigh as he fidgeted with a wooden spoon in his hand, twirling it between his fingers. “You might be his anxiety, but your not the only one carrying that gnawing dread that nothing's gonna work out, Dr. Doom. If it's grating and repetitive, it shows up on my radar too.”
    “I had no idea." Virgil muttered, unsure of what else to say.
    “You can thank Janus for that one, Virgie baby.” Remus chirped, a little more upbeat as the time chimed off. “You didn’t want to know and the snake's been keeping you safe and snug as long as you been kicking.”
    “But what about you, Ree?” Virgil wondered out loud as Remus started to drop the hot cookies onto plates to cool. “Who keeps you safe?”
    “Eh, who cares?” Remus’ voice cracked slightly as he rolled his eyes. “Point is that I’ll feel icky and this’ll make that go away.”
    “Remus, that’s not—”
    “What? Healthy?” Remus purred, as he wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulder and jostling him. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but I'm not Tommy-boy’s good coping mechanisms.”
    “No, but that's why Thomas works on them.” Virgil muttered as Remus released him. “I'm not exactly what Thomas wants all the time either, but he work through his issues so that I can focus on protecting him.”
   “Here’s the thing though,” Remus flashed Virgil a sharp-toothed grin as he chuckled. “My purpose ain’t quite so handy as yours, so its not worth that—”
    “You’re wrong, Remus.”
    Remus looked up in surprise at Virgil’s abrupt response. He stared for a moment at the concern in Virgil’s eyes before straightening up. “Oh?”
    “You keep Thomas grounded in reality.” Virgil shrugged as Remus looked up at him with skepticism in his eyes. “If Thomas lived his life looking Princey's rose-colored glasses, he'd be ignoring all the complex and difficult things that give life meaning.”
    Remus raised an eyebrow at him with a playful glimmer in his eyes. “So, there is creative value in ‘juicy butth—”
    “Stop,” Virgil held up a hand with a chuckle. “You know what I mean. Not everything is sunshine and sparkles. Thomas can’t ignore things just because he doesn’t like them. He needs the ability to face those things and you give him that, Remus.”
     Remus giggled, flashing a knowing smirk at Virgil. “You better be careful, Virgie. If you’re not, I might start to think you give a shit.”
    “I do.” Virgil dipped his head to hide the redness in his cheeks as Remus smirked at him. “I do, okay? Now, just shut up so we can deliver some cookies.”
    “Oh, gag me, emo boy.” Remus chuckled, barely concealing his smile as he made an over-exaggerated expression of disgust. “I didn't know you were capable of being so tooth-rottingly sweet—”
    “Just shut up." Virgil muttered half-heartedly as he smiled and took the plate Remus held out for him.
    Remus chuckled, nodding to the exit with a smirk. “Fine. How about we just deliver these top-notch sweets to our favorite depressed bitches then?”
    “Fine—” Virgil nodded reluctantly, hesitating as he followed Remus. “—and then maybe we could watch a movie or something after?”
   Remus nodded, perking up as he bounced along the hallway. “Something gory?”
    Virgil snorted as he staggered down the hallway. “Might as well. None of the other sides will watch scary movies with me anyway.”
    “It's a date then, stormy night.” Remus grinned, feeling lighter as they walked down the hall together. “You wore me down.”
    Virgil rolled his eyes, smiling as he followed the bouncing man ahead of him. “Good.”
---
General Taglist:
@justanotherhumanstuff​ @im-an-anxious-wreck
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zeldah-writes · 4 years
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Robbery Gone Wrong (Spencer Reid x Reader)
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Masterlist
Note: This took way longer to write than expected. I’m not sure why, but for some reason I was having a really hard time writing this because I kept overthinking the way I worded certain things, so I’m sorry if this is a little rough D: (a for effort, I tried). Nevertheless, I hope you still enjoy and if you’ve checked out any of my other posts, thank you so much! :)
Summary: Spencer comes back from the store, horrified to find two guns, a dying body and a familiar face. All of which are spread out on his bedroom floor. 
Content: oneshot, angst!! and some fluff
Pairing: Spencer Reid and Reader
Warning(s): swear words, Mention of: robbing, blood, killing/death, guns, (slightly implied) sexual assault 
Word Count: 2,261 
------
“Oh no, I think I ran out of ice cream,” Spencer mumbled, digging through his freezer looking for snacks you two could share.
In response, you dramatically gasped and said, “Spencer Reid! We absolutely can’t have a movie night without ice cream.”
Having spent the whole day out with Spencer doing activities that you’ve had planned for awhile, you wanted to end the night as perfect as the day felt. After all, it wasn’t often that you were able to spend a whole two days with your boyfriend, despite dating each other for six months. With the nature of Spencer’s job, it was rare for him to even get one day off, so imagine your joy when he called you earlier in the day to tell you about his work-free weekend. 
“Okay, then how about this,” Spencer started, turning his body so he was facing you, “I’ll quickly go and stop by the 24-hour store to pick up some food while you stay here and get everything else set up.”
You looked up from your computer screen, taking a break from searching for a movie to watch. “And I even get to pick the first movie?”
“And you even get to pick the first movie,” Spencer repeated with a smile as he closed the freezer door.
Your tiny smile grew as you gave Spencer a small nod before diverting your attention back to your laptop.
Just as Spencer grabbed his keys and jacket that were hanging by the door, you made sure to remind him of your favorite ice cream flavor.
“Mint chip, please!” you grinned at him.
“As always, babe,” Spencer said before winking at you, which made you lightly giggle.
“See you soon,” you blew him a quick kiss as he walked out of the door.
After he left, you continued your movie hunt for a few more minutes, but eventually gave up and decided to just wait until Spencer got home so the two of you could choose together. 
Closing your laptop, you looked around and thought about what else was needed for movie night.
Alright, so we have our drinks. Most of our snacks are already sitting on the living room table. What else.
Um...Oh! Blankets. We definitely need those. Maybe some pillows too.
You got up from where you were sitting and made your way to Spencer’s bedroom to retrieve the extra blankets and pillows he had lying around.
While you were in his room, you saw your overnight bag that you brought from your own apartment and thought that it was a good idea to get changed into more comfortable clothes. Knowing you, you were most likely going to fall asleep during one of the movies, especially if Spencer were to put on one of his foreign films that only multilingual people with an IQ higher than 170 could understand. Despite not understanding anything happening in the films, you would always try your hardest to stay awake during them, which Spencer found adorable.
As you started to change your clothes, you heard the sound of a front door lightly creaking open, but you couldn’t tell if it was coming from Spencer’s apartment or one of his neighbors. 
Were the doors even loud enough for me to be able to hear them through the walls?
Thinking that you were just being paranoid, you shrugged it off and continued getting dressed.
Although... you couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off to you.
It wasn’t until you heard footsteps and rustling noises coming from Spencer’s living room that you knew something wasn’t right. You stilled your movements and listened to try and figure out what was making the noises.
Was someone opening drawers? That couldn’t be Spencer, he wouldn’t be back that fast. Even if it was, he would always announce his arrival.
You thought about giving Spencer a call, but as you looked around the room, you remembered you left your phone sitting next to your laptop outside, which only fueled the unease that was growing within you.
Not knowing what else to do, you quietly crept towards the bedroom door that you left slightly open, and peeked through the opening. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but when your eyes landed on an unknown man wearing dark clothes rummaging through Spencer’s belongings, you couldn’t stop the gasp of fear that came out of you.
As soon as the sound left your lips, the man stilled and the apartment was filled with silence.
You immediately covered your mouth and backed away from the door as your heartbeat quickened and your eyes widened. You didn’t get a good look at him because his back was facing you, but there was one thing you saw that stood out. It was tucked into the back of his jeans.
It was a gun.
You felt your blood run cold as your breathing increased a significant amount. I mean, sure, you’ve seen a gun in person before, but it was only ever in the hands of people you trusted, like Spencer and his coworkers. So, when you saw that the strange man in Spencer’s living room had a gun and he was definitely not someone you trusted, you didn’t know what to think.
A mixture of shock and fear took control of your body as you stood in the middle of the bedroom, unable to move. You tried your best to think, but the lack of noise ironically made that a difficult task for you.
I don’t hear him anymore...maybe my presence scared him away.
You desperately hoped that was the case, but your hopes were quickly diminished when the sound of light footsteps reached your ears.
Oh my god. He’s still here and he’s heading towards me. 
 Okay, just think, Y/N, think. 
As the sound of footsteps grew closer, you thought back to the intruder’s gun and as you did that, the memory of Spencer reaching you how to use his gun popped into your brain. You remembered that Spencer said it was for emergency purposes.
Well, this is definitely an emergency.
Not having time to think about it any longer, you ran to Spencer’s nightstand and yanked it open to reveal his revolver. With shaking hands, you picked it up and cocked it before turning around and aiming it at the door just in time to see it being opened by the mysterious man.
He was wearing a navy hat that was mostly covered by the hood of his grey sweatshirt and black jeans. In his hand was the gun you previously saw tucked away in his clothes.
You figured that your best bet was to try and scare him away with threats, so as soon as he saw you, you started talking.
“Get out. I...I have a gun,” you said, trying your best to mask the shakiness in your voice with false confidence as your arm quivered.
Despite your efforts, the fear in your voice was still obvious and you were sure that the man noticed it, because instead of turning away and running, he just stood at the doorway, seemingly unfazed, as a sick smile spread across his face.
You’re positive that you’ll never be able to get his face out of your mind.
“So? I got one too. And from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting shot anytime soon,” the man’s face didn’t falter as he spoke.
You tried not to show it, but you knew he was right. And you hated it.
Unlike Spencer, you weren’t very comfortable when it came to dealing with violence. It baffled you how Spencer could work on homicide cases almost every single day and not turn into a completely paranoid mess.
You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat before deciding to ignore his words and say, “If you don’t leave, I will shoot you.”
“Oh, c’mon pretty lady,” the man stood up straight and turned his twisted smile into a smirk as his eyes raked over your body, “put the gun down and we can have some fun. Just imagine the things I could do to you.”
His insinuation made your stomach churn as tears welled up in your eyes. The way he looked at you made you nauseous. What you felt was far beyond disgust.
“My boyfriend works for the FBI and he’s on his way home right now,” you could tell that your anti-violence mindset was slipping away from you the longer the situation was going on. At this point, you would do anything necessary to protect yourself against the dangerous and deranged man that was standing before you.
"Don’t you worry, darlin’. I’ll make it quick,” with his sadistic smirk and his head held high, the man took a step towards you and into the room.
All the fake courage you forced yourself to show came crumbling down at his comment. You didn’t want to show him weakness, but you couldn’t help it. The tears that were previously threatening to escape came rushing down your face as you let out a loud sob.
“What is wrong with you? Don’t come near me, you’re absolutely disgusting! You’re nothing but a horrible, sad excuse for a human!” you yelled out to the intruder as tears kept streaming down your face.
Your outburst must’ve triggered something inside of the man, because when you were done yelling, his whole demeanor changed. His body tensed up as his jaw clenched and his mouth turned downward into a scowl. What was most frightening to you, however, was his hardened eyes that glared at you with a look that made your skin crawl. 
He glared at you with murder.
“You fucking bitch! I’m gonna fucking kill you,” the man’s voice boomed and echoed throughout the apartment as he yelled, “wanna say shit like that to me? You pay the fucking consequence.”
What happened next felt like a nightmare. Everything happened so fast that you didn’t have time to think about what you were about to do.
The man looked at you and scoffed before looking down to his gun and cocking it. Before he could do anything else, however, you screamed at the top of your lungs, squeezed your eyes shut and pulled the trigger.
You weren’t sure how many shots you fired, but the only reason you stopped was because no more bullets were coming out of the gun. After you unknowingly emptied the revolver’s chamber, you noticed that other than the low ringing in your ears, the apartment became silent. Because of this, you slowly opened your eyes.
You knew that it was stupid to close your eyes in the first place, but when you opened you eyes and saw what you did, you deeply wished they stayed closed, because nothing in the world could have prepared you for what you saw.
Spencer’s mahogany bedroom door was now ruined with bullet holes, but that wasn’t what caught your eye. As soon as your vision cleared, your eyes landed on the figure that was sprawled out on the floor.
There the motionless man laid, covered and surrounded by his own blood. The man’s once plain grey hoodie was turning red, just like the floor beneath him, the longer you stood there.
After the initial shock wore off, the realization of your actions set in.
I killed him. I took his life away. I took it away and I can’t give it back.
“No, no, no, no,” you kept repeating as you sobbed and slid down the wall behind you, dropping the gun in the process. You buried your face in your knees, trying to get the image of the bloody scene in front of you out of your mind, but your attempts were futile. All you could see was his face and his lifeless body.
“Y/N? Are you-oh my god!”
The second you heard his voice, you whipped your head up, but despite the little relief you felt when you saw him, all you could do was cry harder.
“Spencer!” you managed to cry out.
With a panicked expression, Spencer quickly surveyed the room before rushing over to where you were sitting. Once he was in front of you, he kneeled down and gently grabbed your face in his hands. 
“Are you hurt? Injured anywhere?” he frantically checked your body for injuries and when he saw there was none, he looked into your eyes.
By now, you were hyperventilating and your entire body was trembling, but you so desperately needed to let Spencer know that you didn’t mean for this to happen. You were only trying to protect yourself.
“Spencer, it-no-I,” you were jumbling over your words, so you took a deep breath before trying again, “I was so scared.”
You wanted to say more, but that was all you could say at the moment. You were just hoping that Spencer would be able to use his profiling skills to figure out what happened.
It seemed like Spencer understood, because he wrapped his arms around you and whispered, “It’s okay, I know. You’re okay now.”
Feeling reassured from Spencer’s words, you took your own arms and wrapped them tightly around Spencer. 
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you,” as he said that, you became aware to the fact that you weren’t the only one crying.
“But you’re here now.”
You weren’t sure what was going to happen next, but if you had Spencer by your side, you knew everything was going to be okay.
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itsclydebitches · 5 years
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You did a thing in your Cloqwork collection about ice skating? It's winter so could you maybe do a drabble about that Oz and Qrow?
I did! For those of you who are wondering, the fic referred to is here. (I don’t have the patience right now to try and work around tumblr’s stupid link policy...) This can probably be read on its own though. All you really need to know is that Ozpin is a figure skater hurtling towards retirement and Qrow is his new boyfriend. This takes place a few weeks after the first fic and, writing gods willing, I’ll post a story that links the two at some point :D
“So on the scale of legality about where are we at right now?”
“Entirely legal.”
“…lame.”
Ozpin chuckled, pulling the spare key out of his pocket and dangling it high for Qrow’s inspection. No, he hadn’t broken into their favorite rink, but it was only because Maria was an absolute darling and had granted him personal access years ago. In all honesty though, Ozpin might have actually broken in if necessary. It had been that kind of week.
Ah, but Qrow’s hand trailed lightly along his back as he passed him and a bit of the tension drained away.
“It’s weird,” Qrow said, surveying the empty ice; the darkened cafe and the locked-down skate exchange. “This place is always stuffed full of kids. I’m used to, you know, lots of screaming. Parents throwing fits about how expensive shit is. Never thought I’d see it this quiet.” He ran his fingers along the plexiglass now and inexplicably Ozpin shivered. “It’s very…”
“Peaceful,” he finished.
“I was gonna go with creepy, but okay.”
Ozpin threw his head back and let out a startled laugh, the sound bouncing off the high ceiling and settling around their shoulders. Oh yes, he was glad he’d brought Qrow here tonight.
He hadn’t had a laugh like that in ages.
“It is not creepy,” Ozpin insisted, seating himself on the nearest bench and stretching out his legs. “I come here often at night. Usually for extra practice, but sometimes to just… be. A library or the skate rink. They’re the only two places I’ve ever been able to truly relax, and only one of them has provided me with a purpose in life. People often find peace in running water or falling leaves. Why not ice?”
Qrow wandered over to stand between Ozpin’s legs, nudging them open with his knee until he fit there, snug. “You’re so weird,” he said, but it had none of the hostility that Ozpin had grown used to. From competitors. His parents. Even Glynda on occasion. “This place smells like piss and cheap disinfectant. It’s cold even by a rink’s standards. I’m pretty sure I just stepped in gum.”
Ozpin nodded. “It’s wonderful.”
“Oh my god,” and Qrow finally leaned down to kiss him.  
It was such a comforting clash: the old familiarity of this rink combined with the newness of Qrow’s lips against his. The position itself was awkward as hell—Qrow forced to bend too far and Ozpin with nothing to lean against, long legs continually bumping—but that only added to his joy. The moment felt real.
Qrow slid calloused fingers into Ozpin’s hair and he sighed, pulling back so he could focus on the new sensation.  
“Mm. I don’t normally like people touching my hair.”
Qrow’s hand jumped away.
“Normally,” Ozpin emphasized, drawing him back. Qrow’s expression remained wary until he placed his hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to play with the strands there. The question in Qrow’s eyes was obvious though and Ozpin shrugged, gaze shifting away.
“I hadn’t intended to let it grow out,” he said. “It’s simply amazing what one loses track of when training for competitions.”
“Like food,” Qrow muttered. Ah. So he wouldn’t be letting that go anytime soon.
Ozpin inclined his head. “Yes. Like food. By the time I was focused enough to schedule an appointment Glynda had already decided that long hair worked for my brand. Something about femininity, standing out… I hardly know. I was devoted to pleasing her and immediately agreed, but good heavens the upkeep was horrendous.” Ozpin’s mouth twisted down and his shoulders tensed again. Qrow was immediately leaning closer. “Do you know long it takes a team to style long hair in a manner that will last through multiple high speed turns?”
“Nope.”
“Too fucking long, Qrow.”
It was his turn to let out a laugh, though Qrow tended to keep the sound close, slapping a hand over his mouth and holding everything in until he shook. It wasn’t often that Ozpin cursed and in the recent weeks he’d learned to use his exclamations sparingly. For the simple reason that it got him reactions like this.
Ozpin shook his head. He reached out to squeeze Qrow’s hips. “I’d cut it all off if I could.”
“Really?”
“Indeed.” 
“So why don’t you?”
…What?
Qrow’s expression had moved from generally amused to specifically amused—at him. It was what Ozpin was quickly beginning to recognize as the Oh God My Boyfriend Is Stupid expression.
“You’re retiring,” Qrow said, enunciating each syllable like he was speaking to a child.
“…I’m retiring.”
It honestly hadn’t occurred to him. The tiny freedoms that came after making that call to Glynda and Ozpin sat, a little stunned, as Qrow moved to the other end of the bench. He’d thrown his purse over there—and yes, it was a purse. He didn’t know what the hell else to call the small bag he carried around with him everywhere. Yang might be an animal who was perfectly content to live in one outfit and eat random food she found on the sidewalk, but Ruby was a little princess who demanded any and every kind of amenity. Qrow had started carrying a wide variety of supplies with him ever since she’d come home from the hospital.
Small first aid kit. Emergency cell. Emergency cookies. Wipes. A pad for the day it was needed. Stuff like that.
Qrow also had a small pair of scissors.
He raised them and snipped at the air, a grin growing. “Whaddya say? Feel like being impulsive?”
“Here?” Ozpin’s eyes blew wide. “Now?”
“Anything stopping you?”
“I thought we were going to skate?”
Qrow snorted. “Please. Like I honestly thought you brought me to the empty rink at 1:00am to skate.”
He… had. Though perhaps it would benefit Ozpin to be a little less honest about exactly how inept he was at all this. Dating. ...Flirting. He kept his expression carefully neutral as Qrow approached with the scissors.
They were, impossibly, in a rather perfect position. The bench put Ozpin at just the right height for Qrow to work and the plexiglass provided a slight reflection for him to see in. Any mess they made would be cleaned up before the rink opened in the early afternoon.
Ozpin swallowed hard as Qrow parted his hair and drew the ends up for inspection. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Actually yeah. Tai’s a cheapskate.”
“Don’t be mean.”
“It’s true!” Qrow lifted half his hair over one shoulder and fanned out the rest. “We’re not poor, but we’re not swimming in cash either. Especially with two girls who’ll need college funds someday.” His voice had gone quiet and focused and it occurred to Ozpin that this was the most he’d ever heard Qrow talk about money. “I’ve cut their hair since they had any worth cutting. Tai’s now too. It saves a surprising amount.” Qrow’s eyes snapped up to meet Ozpin’s in the glass. “You actually want this?”
Honestly? He wasn’t sure. His hair felt like a crucial part of his identity. Or at least, his identity as a skater…
Which was precisely why he should let it go. Ozpin wasn’t that man anymore. The fuzzy image of Qrow standing at his shoulder was proof of that.
Ozpin nodded and Qrow gave a little hop of joy.
“Fucking love cutting hair,” he whispered. “Okay. Just try to stay calm and trust me. This is gonna be great.”
Oh, he trusted him, but that didn’t make the first cut any easier. Ozpin watched nearly two feet of hair suddenly plummet to the floor and felt a little like his heart was going with it. He blinked rapidly, nails digging into his legs… but then the second cut came and suddenly his whole head felt light. He felt lightheaded. It was such a strange, foreign feeling that Ozpin instinctually lifted a hand up towards his ear. It was caught and set gently back into his lap.
“No peeking,” Qrow said. He bent and pressed a kiss against the back of Ozpin’s neck. It sent a lovely little shiver down to his toes.
Okay. No peeking. Ozpin kept his gaze firmly on the floor as Qrow muttered things about layering and washing and needing a diffuser. He didn’t really follow it, but the careful attention Qrow gave to the task was worth more than Ozpin could say. When fingers suddenly appeared beneath his chin he was surprised by them. The feel of the work had made him drowsy and in the face of Qrow’s ministrations he’d forgotten what they had been leading to.
“Well?” Qrow said, nervousness threading his voice. “What do you think?”
He must have carried the small mirror over with him, the mirror that now reflected a man Ozpin didn’t recognize. His hair hung just below his ears and without the added weight had curled unexpectedly, little flyaways falling over his eyes and lifting in the back. It made him look younger. Approachable. The man, Ozpin realized, looked happy.
Qrow was visible in the mirror’s reflection, stationed beside him with flushed cheeks and twitchy fingers. Ozpin knew he was supposed to be looking at the cut right now, and yet…
“Perfect,” he said and he still hadn’t drawn his eyes away from Qrow.
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