Winter doesn't have an official birthdate date, so I headcanon it to be December, 21. The date of publication of "The Snow Queen", which is also sometimes regarded as the first day of winter.
I also headcanon that Winter doesn't care much about her birthday celebration, while Qrow cares a lot about such things because of Summer (she practically introduced the twins to the concept, so it is an important memory), his nieces (he never misses theirs) and his inability to be around people he loves (semblance and work).
Warning: the following contains adult themes, especially under the cut. You have been warned
“Why did you sign the ledger as ‘Mr. and Mrs. Blanc?”
Winter didn’t spare so much as a glace over her shoulder at Qrow as he shut the door to their room. Instead, she went about setting down her backpack (an enormous thing that reeked of Schnee money as much as her little sister’s had) and laying out what looked like bedclothes from some stodgy period romance film where everyone wore frills.
“Suppose it would have saved us money to pay for more than one room,” she said, almost absentmindedly.
“Suppose.”
Honestly, she’d been dodgy all day.
No scratch that; since their mission had started. Ever since Ozpin (or maybe he should start saying Oscar? Ozcar? Ospin?) had caught wind of Salem’s forces rallying in two possible locations, he’d been jazzing to investigate both, something they didn’t have time for.
So, his niece (in her infinite yet limited wisdom) suggested they split up and ask for assistance from their allies. Wouldn’t you know they’d pick that Weiss’s uppity sister?
And after about five minutes of bickering about who went with who, Oscar had suggested drawing straws (he knew it was Oscar because Ozpin probably would have used some kind of cryptic speech or phrase and paired them off at random).
“Not my fault the innkeeper’s prices were through the roof.”
“Yeah, but why the same surname? We could have been ‘just friends.”
Winter paused, a hairbrush in her hand.
“Maybe I knew they wouldn’t believe it,” she said, picking up the old-lady nightgown and heading for the bathroom.
Qrow cackled, high and rough, dropping into the only seat in the room, a wooden chair matched to a table that had seen better days.
“That’s your answer? That he’d believe we were married?”
“Why not?” Winter said through the bathroom door, “it’s not like there’s a huge age gap between us.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got too much self-respect to be a trophy husband.”
“What makes you think I wouldn’t be the trophy?”
The smile left Qrow’s face.
This was getting dangerous. In the time they’d known each other, ribbing had become a part of their relationship.
He’d insult her sense of duty, she’d condescend about his style of self-presentation, and that would be enough to let others know everything was normal between them.
But lately there’d been some… hiccups to their dynamic.
Qrow had recently gained a newfound appreciation for putting aside her loyalty to the military when it turned out her superior officer had gone off the rails. And it seemed she, in return, seemed to be phasing out the backhanded comments about his capabilities and habits.
Not that that wasn’t welcome, but still…
It brought up a lot of questions.
“Well, whatever. I call dibs on the bed.”
With the pregnant pause on the other side of the bathroom door, Qrow could almost imagine the indignation on her face.
“What!?”
Now there was the Winter he knew.
“I’ve walked all day, your highness.”
He said the last part with no shortage of Sarcasm.
“I’m not about to sleep on the floor.”
The door opened and Winter came out.
Her hair was down, cascading down her shoulders in freshly brushed waves. She looked younger, less professional. Qrow might even hesitantly call her appearance ‘serene.”
The old lady nightgown, as loathe as he was to admit it, suited her. It’s modest style, from lacy high neck to the trim her bare toes peeked out from, covered everything except her hands. At the same time, it was neither too tight, nor burying her under ornamentation or folds of cloth, with hints of her figure caught by the light and the shifting of fabric.
“No-one said you had to. Where you sleep is up to you. I won’t stop you.”
“Wait, what are you…”
As she made her way to the bed (a pitiful twin sized mattress with sheets the color of fatigues), her eye caught his and somehow, somehow, he knew what she meant.
“Oh god, Winter…”
Where was his flask? He needed something strong to stop the drumbeat in his heart.
“You’re not drunk,” she said, “you’re a… reasonably responsible adult.”
Winter climbed below the bedcovers and faced him.
“But for the record, I don’t intend to sleep anywhere but a bed, either. So we might as well make do.”
Make do? Make do! This was the rising action (not rising! Any word but that!) of every stupid romance story under the sun! How was this not a big deal to her?
Dammit, where was his flask!?
“What are you looking for?”
Qrow looked up from his endless quest through his pockets.
“A drink,” he said.
“You left it with Oscar,” she said simply, “you said it was to make sure you stayed sober.”
Qrow cursed under his breath. Winter scowled.
“If you’re not coming to bed, I’ll turn off the lights and you can sleep there.”
“Alright,” Qrow said, rising, “I’m coming.”
Shit, he’s keeping his mouth shut for the rest of the night.
Deciding not to dwell on innuendos and lifted the bottom of his shirt up.
He paused at the sound of Winter’s sputtering.
“W-what are you doing!?”
“I don’t sleep in a shirt,” he said, annoyed, “or pants. And since I don’t have pajamas, I guess we’re both out of luck.”
“I thought you had them in your backpack?”
“What backpack?”
Qrow pointed over to where his own meager belongings lay, stored almost entirely in a beat up, moth-eaten tote that’s off-white color had become dark grey.
“That’s all I got in the world.”
“Then why didn’t you—DON’T PULL YOUR PANTS DOWN!”
Qrow smirked as Winter threw her hands over her eyes. At least now things felt a little more normal. Besides, did she think he was going commando? He wasn’t so uncivilized to not have six pairs of boxer briefs with him at all times.
Before Winter could protest, Qrow had leapt into the bed and buried himself under the comforter.
“Look, I’ll sleep with my back to you and you keep the sheets. That’s a blanket between us.
“There aren’t any sheets,” Winter said, still not looking at her.
Qrow frowned and looked down.
She was right.
All they had was the comforter and the sheet on the bed. What kind of inn was this?
“I’ll keep my back to you,” he repeated, turning over, “night.”
The click of the light and the darkness that followed was the only sign Winter had heard him.
It should have been easy to fall asleep.
Qrow was used to sleeping rough, making due with austere quarters and if he couldn’t, alcohol was always handy as a sleeping pill.
But he’d been trying to stay dry. For his nieces. For the kids.
And those other times he hadn’t been had a woman with him.
Well, not a woman like Winter, anyway.
Most of the girls he took to bed were bored and looking for a good time with a drifter. Some no-strings-attached fun to break the monotony of working at a tavern or something like that.
Winter was…
He didn’t really have a way to describe it.
What was Winter? Was this situation a big deal to her? Or either of them, for that matter? Had she even had sex? Did she even like sex?
Her hushed voice dragged him from his thoughts.
“Qrow are you awake?”
Qrow took a long, deep breath through his nose and for the third time that night wondered if sobriety was worth it.
“No Winter, I’m dreaming about dancing with a giant bottle of malt liquor. Why?”
He felt her shift to face him. He didn’t dare look to check. Not when it could lead to… problems.
“I have to confess something,” she said. “And I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”
Considering my sister ran out on me and my whole family in the name of ‘survival’, I’d say my skin thickness level is about 9001+, so have at it Schnee.
That’s what he wanted to say. Instead he just went “go ahead.”
“I haven’t been…”
Winter paused. Qrow wished she’d just continue. The suspense was murder.
“I haven’t been feeling appreciated as of late. I guess it’s something like post-partum depression.”
“You’re not a mom.”
“I said something like post-partum depression. Whitley’s working to fix the company, Weiss is adventuring, my mother’s getting sober.”
No small feat, Qrow thought to himself.
“And here I am… the same as I ever was.”
“The whole ‘winter maiden’ thing isn’t exactly a day-ending-in-y thing for people.”
Winter hit him in the arm.
“You know what I mean. I mean I feel like I’m being left behind.”
Against his better judgement, Qrow turned so he was facing her in the bed.
“I think you might be rambling,” he said to her, “how does this tie back into not being honest with me?”
Winter’s eyes turned down and not for the first time that day, Qrow had thought that the bashful look suited her.
“I… didn’t sign us in as husband and wife to save on money,” she said, “I did it because…”
Well, now she was just trying to make him mad, pausing like that.
“I did it because I wanted… a bedmate.”
The moment the sentence ended, Qrow’s whole sensory input collapsed.
“You… what?”
Indignation flared on her face.
“Do I have to say it again? I said I wanted a bedmate. I’m…”
The indignation left, and with it, something else left. He knew what it was, but couldn’t put a name to it.
“I’m lonely.”
Lonely. the word struck a chord in Qrow that had more than once been played by death and abandonment.
She wasn’t the uptight Atlas Specialist anymore. Not with that expression. Not with her hair down. Not in the dark like this. Not to Qrow.
This was a Lonely young woman, who for so long had worried for her family while it was ruled by a callous and myopic man, who now freed found herself stuck in the role she’d always made for herself, while the rest of the people she knew went on to bigger and better things.
Against his better judgement (he should start keeping that phrase on standby), Qrow let his eyes wander down to her mouth.
Pastel pink, the color almost invisible against the fairness of her skin, small but full, and perfectly curved like the kind magazines preferred for selling lip balm.
God, why did it look so alluring?
“Would you like a kiss?”
Winter stared at him, wide eyed and sputtering at his words.
“What!?”
“A kiss,” Qrow repeated, “it doesn’t have to be anything special, just a kiss.”
When she didn’t respond right away, Qrow thought that would be the end of it.
That is, until Winter leaned and pressed her lips to his.
She wasn’t what he was expecting; he’d thought a soldier’s lips would be chapped and hard, but Winter’s were plush and velvety. He almost chased after her when she pulled away.
“That wasn’t bad,” she said. A pregnant pause.
“Maybe... just one more?”
This time, Qrow was the one who initiated. He leaned in and pressed his lips to her’s. This time, she hummed into the kiss, a sound that sent reverberations throughout his whole being. He couldn’t tell how long they stayed like that, or if he had felt her grab his arm, but when they pulled away they were both breathless.
“Wow...” was all he could rasp out.
“Just...”
Before he could say anything else, Winter dove against him in a deep and fevered kiss. Her tongue slid against his teeth, asking for entrance, and he granted it.
When Winter pulled away, to leave a trail of kisses down his neck, Qrow heard a rasping sound as his stubble rubbed against her cheek, and the sound she made…
He couldn’t take it.
Qrow wrapped his hands around her calves, sliding them up, up to her hips. Beneath that ancient nightgown, he could feel bare, toned thighs.
“Qrow...”
Her voice, the tone like a swoon...
Qrow flipped her over so he was over her, making sure to keep his weight on his legs.
“Tell me you want this,” he said, “or I won’t go any further. That’s the deal.”
The answer was Winter putting her hand behind his head and bringing him in for another kiss.
“If I didn’t, you’d be on the floor. Don’t tear my nightgown.”
Half an hour later, the nightgown was on the floor in a pile, but otherwise undamaged.
Summary: Qrow is hanging out with his nieces in their dorm room, when Yang suddenly suggests that they play Truth or Dare. He can't say no to his favorite girls. But, the game takes an unexpected turn, when Ruby dares him to go find and kiss Winter Schnee.
Written for QroWin Week, Day 3,
The prompt was “Truth or Dare”.
@qrowin-week
Tags: Age Difference, Tsundere Winter Schnee, Implied Past Qrow Branwen/Summer Rose, Mildly Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32122573
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 46: Did I Make It?
Rating: E - this chapter is T, however
Relationship: Qrowin
Tag: Slice of Life, Adventure and Romance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comedy, Slow Burn, Pre-Canon, Military, Canon-Typical Violence, Age Difference, Canon Compliant
Author’s note: Qrowin Week 2021 Day 1 Submission; I decided to continue my Chance Meeting Fic like last year and used the prompts as inspiration. Enjoy!
Winter looked over her reports as she waited outside of Atlas Academy. The reports were detailed with sufficient facts and minimal personal opinions of her team, which was how she liked her reports. Once they meet tomorrow for their weekly debriefing, she will hear their opinions, and they could plot their next course of action.
She opened the next report about a recent grimm invasion that took place in the south of Mantle. One hand was in her pocket, clutching a handmade hand warmer filled with rice. She could feel the messy thread holding the two pieces of wool fabric together. The heat was almost gone, but she was grateful for the amount of time it lasted.
A message from Qrow arrived. “Be out soon.”
Read the rest here.
Start the fic from the beginning here.
“Day 2: Childhood Friends AU”
Young Winter Schnee is the star pupil in her class at Atlas academy. An Heiress to a family fortune and the symbol of privilege and prestige, surrounded by hangers-on and brown-nosers, yet all she ever really wanted was a true friend.
young Qrow Branwen could not be more of an opposite to the glittering princess of Atlas Academy: a rough, ramshackle kid who makes his home in “the Projects” on the far end of the city, he spends more time in Truancy offices than he does in school.
but when Winter sees him being bullied by some of her peers, to the surprise of all, most of all Qrow, she steps up and defends him.
He returns the favor a few days later when she gets jumped by his Sister and her pack of thugs.
the Primary School Princess and the Ramshackle Rogue.
Where will they end up?
That really was the craziest game of truth or dare ever.
Namely because the kids had coerced them into it
Of course, when Winter had picked “Dare” and Yang had told her to “chug a whole case of whiskey and a six pack of beers, Qrow had thought his fellow chaperone would have declared the night over.
Instead, he had to be the responsible one and tell the kids to behave themselves while he drove the stone drunk Winter home.
Who was staring at him from the passenger seat with big glassy eyes. It was starting to give him serial killer vibes, in all honesty.
“”What’s with the look?” he asked.
“Wanna play truth or dare,” Winter asked.
“I Pick truth.” Qrow said. Hopefully, he could dare her to fall asleep.
“Do you want to be my new daddy,” Winter said.
“What?”
Qrow’s surprise led him to nearly run into another late night driver.
“My old daddy is evil,” Winter said, blissfully unaware of the fact that they’s nearly smashed into the guardrail, “So I want you to be my new daddy.”
“Duly noted,” Qrow said, ignoring the sweaty images that came to mind and pulling up to the intercom of the Schnee manor front gates.
Rolling down the window, Qrow pressed the intercom button and hoped someone was still awake.
Sure enough, Klein’s voice filtered through the static.
“Yes?”
“It’s Qrow. I’m bringing Winter here for the night. She’s drunk.”
A pregnant pause on the intercom. Then.
“Why is Miss Winter drunk?”
“Truth or Dare,” Qrow answered simply.
“Dare!” Winter said. Qrow rolled his eyes.
“I dare you to go to sleep,” Qrow said. Winter scowled.
“And I dare you to carry me out!” she said.
Qrow gripped the steering wheel in annoyance.
“Klein, you have to let us in!”
The butler didn’t answer, but the gates swung open, allowing them entry. Qrow pulled his car in and parked by a large topiary of a dog.
Getting Winter out of the car was more than a chore than he cared for. As he was quickly realizing, a drunk Winter was a petulant Winter
“Is this our new house?” she slurred.
“No,” Qrow said, “it’s your house.”
“You’re silly,” she said “I don’t have a house. I have an apartment.”
“Well, I don’t know where your apartment is, so we’re spending the night here.”
Dear god, he’d just used “we’re” instead of “you’re”.
Qrow cursed as he tried and failed to turn the manor’s ornate front door’s knob with Winter in his arms.
“Hey Qrow. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
Winter scowled.
“You’re no fun!”
“I picked Truth! Ask your damn question!”
“Are we married?”
“No.”
“Then why you carrying me?”
“Because you’re drunk!”
It was at that moment, Klein opened the door.
QW
Getting Winter up the stairs to the guest room was it’s own set of crazy. She wouldn’t stop acting like dead weight, she wouldn’t stop hanging from him like a spider monkey, and she wouldn’t. Stop. Hitting on him! It was getting weird!
Finally, they made it to guest room.
“Ok, time for bed,” he said, dropping Winter on the couch in the room. Or trying to, since she hung onto his neck with all the grace of an orangutan.
“Noooooo,” she said, “we’re married. I wanna sleep w’ you!”
She pulled him down and left a big sloppy kiss on Qrow’s cheek.
“We’re not married,” Qrow said, untangling her arms from around his neck.
Winter started to sniffle.
“Are you divorcing me?”
“He’ll come back to visit you tomorrow!” Klein said, bringing a blanket with rubber duck print and draping it over her. Winter pulled the blanet up to her chin so that only her eyes were visible. The jolly rubber duckies on it made her look more like a child than a grown woman.
