Ozqrow Week - Day 1 - Nonsexual Intimacy - DEAGED OZ AU
Qrow murmured something inaudible as he sat in the rickety chair he'd been given so that he could more easily watch over Tip. He was alive, which was the main thing that mattered, now, but whatever it was Salem had put him through during the time she had had him in her clutches wasn't going away any time soon.
Tip had woken, briefly, but he hadn't really seemed to know who any of them were. A lot of that was probably the drugs they'd got him on, since the heavier ones had been prescribed despite the protests Qrow had been able to raise. Just like last time, it had had certain consequences, but at least they were hopefully helping? Tip was healing, slowly, though it was taking longer than it really should. Even with the sheer amount of aura at Oz's disposal, the recovery was bound to take some time. He was just glad that, though they'd hurt him badly, he still had all his limbs. That had been rather a closer call than any of them wanted to think about, really, but at least they'd saved the leg.
There would have been options, had they been unable to. James had made noises about state of the art prosthetics, but they were easily enough removed and if Salem ever got her hands on him again, she'd likely take delight in removing anything not actually a part of him. Maybe even things that were.
Qrow shuddered, reaching out a large hand and enfolding Oz's small one in it, folding his other hand over the top. In many ways, this was a promise, that this would never happen again. No, he'd not let Salem hurt him again as long as there was any breath left in his body. Dammit, pocketsized was so small like this, so young, so vulnerable. Such a small form to hold the weight of Remnant, but then he was not going to do that alone. Not now, not ever again. As long as Oz was Oz, Qrow would be around to love and protect him, in any form he took for as long as it would take. But then, that was what happened when people were in love, they protected each other. Always.
Tip stirred, looking up at Qrow with hazy brown eyes, unfocused and glassy from a combination of the pain medication and the physical state of his body.
"Qrow?" A weak voice murmured from between cracked lips.
"Yeah, pocketsized, it's me. I'm here, I ain't leaving you. Not ever again."
"That's nice. Love you, Qrow. Qrow? Are the others..."
"Everybody else is just fine Oz, concentrate on healing, okay? I'll be here when you wake up, nothing on Remnant could drag me away.
Tip smiled slightly, snuggling down into the soft mattress, one arm clutching his newly repaired teddy close. He was breathing easier now the broken ribs had had a chance to knit, though his leg was still heavily splinted. Qrow doubted he could feel the injury at the moment, but they'd all seen the state he'd been in when they had first gotten him out. The fact that they had saved it really had been nothing short of miraculous, though that didn't stop his worry in the slightest. He just prayed that Oz'd be able to keep it, since as weak as it had always been compared to the other one the way it had shattered must have been absolute agony. How much of his aura must have been drained, to be able to move on it at all, much less escape?
It was an admirable thing, but it should never have been needed. Salem should never have been able to get close enough to snatch him, much less from his bed in a place where he should have been safe, should have been protected.
He stood up, still clutching Tip's hand and reached out to smooth the sweat soaked silver hair from his clammy forehead. Oz was asleep again, but that was really the best thing for him right now. He scowled at the door, where the several guards Jimmy had posted on rotation were clearly visible, weapons cocked and ready. At least there was no way anyone could break in to snatch him again? It wasn't majorly likely that anyone would, of course, but the fact it had been done once was more than bad enough. He knew Jimmy had been incandescently furious that it had happened and Oscar had cried over the remains of his brother's teddy bear for hours before the tracker had pinged.
He didn't really want to think about that, either. Those hours spent not knowing if Oz was even still alive, much less where he was. He noticed Oz shift slightly and winced again in sympathy, after all he was also very aware that Winter had been on a research hunt after he'd been snatched, forbidden to come with them for the rescue. He knew what she was likely to call Oz once he was well enough to attempt a token protest, too, though it hadn't really been his fault he was taken. No, that had been down to their own collective arrogance, blithely believing Atlas impenetrable enough that Oz would be safe. They knew better now, they all did.
He lay a gentle kiss to Oz's forehead, settling back into the chair which creaked ominously. Hadn't Oz spent so many days like this, over the years? Never certain that Qrow would come back from a mission, wracked with guilt that something he did, a choice he made, even just something he had overlooked might be the difference between life and death? It had seemed so laughable at the time, when Glynda had informed him, after all he had never before been in the position he was in now, where he was the one terrified that the man he loved might not survive. Oh, he'd gone through it with the girls which had been its own special level of hell, but somehow this felt different. Why had they thought that he'd been safe? Just because he was a kid at the moment didn't mean he wasn't still Oz, wasn't still Salem's main target. He was always going to be a target, but they could at least make damn sure that he would never be truly alone to face it again.
Oh, Oz was going to hate all the extra security measures they were putting in place, of course but... he sent a pained smile down at the unconscious body on the bed, devoid of anything even remotely resembling mirth. As long as he was safe, that was all that really mattered in the end.
