The First and Only Time

Winter had really expected to feel something deeper than mild annoyance when she woke up that morning. Shame and regret, maybe. Heart-stopping shock. Or just some of her usual cold fury. But when she blearily opened her eyes to the dawn light streaming through the window and groggily rolled over to face the snoring mop of whiskey-scented dark hair on the other side of the bed, all she could do was conjure up a huff of annoyance.

"Qrow." She muttered, shaking his shoulder. The Huntsman stirred, sleep-fogged red eyes meeting her piercing blue ones. He looked as bad as she felt, obviously battling with a hangover similar to the one that was currently drilling monotonously into her skull. He groaned and sat up.

"Whazzat?" He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his pained expression growing more guarded when he saw her. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh is right." Winter replied, wincing as her head throbbed painfully. "Let me save you some time. you and I bumped into each other at a bar- don't bother asking which one, I don't remember- we had a fight, then we had a few drinks, I was in the mood, I invited you back to my place." The rogue nodded and scratched the back of his head. "Right. I remember now."

"Good." Winter groaned as the sunlight lanced into her eyes, spurring a new round of throbbing headaches. "I'm sure you've done something like this before, so I take it you know what happens next." Qrow grunted his assent and half-crawled, half-rolled out of bed. He fumbled for his clothes and started to get dressed. Winter squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in the pillow to shut out the sun's hateful rays. She was dimly conscious of the clinking of his belt as he wrestled with the buckle.

Silence, for a moment. Then Qrow coughed. "So was I any good?" "Satisfactory." She replied, her voice muffled by the pillow. "I've certainly had worse." Qrow made no reply, though she just knew that if she looked at him right now he'd have that stupid, smug grin on his face. Even tired and hungover, Qrow Branwen was a better irritant than pepper spray.

She groaned a little at the clomp-clomp of his boots, her heart sinking at the realization that he was probably scuffing up her floors to hell and back. Idiot.

She hears the soft click of her door opening, the gentle creak of the hinges feeling like nails down a chalkboard. "Hey, Ice Queen." Qrow's voice rings out, making her stomach heave and sparking a coal of fury in her heart. She would get up and kick his ass right now, if only she were sober. If only.

"What?" She snaps, wishing that he was within throwing distance so she could knock him out cold with the bedside lamp. There's a brief pause. "You were pretty satisfactory too. Just thought you should know."

Oh, for a sword and a clear head right now. "Get the hell out of my apartment, you drunk."

"Alright." And just like that, the door clicks shut and he's gone. Peace has once more returned to her life. Winter is now conscious of just how parched she is. Rising to get a glass of water from the kitchen is agony, moreso when a glance reveals just how hard she's going to have to work to get her hardwood floors pristine again.

He'd better leave his boots at the door next time.

It's a stupid, drunken thought from a mind that isn't functioning correctly, because this will not happen again. He was far too irritating. In every single way. Winter would happily spend the rest of her life in a romantic dry spell if it meant avoiding his stupid drunken teasing and his murder-inducing grin. She coughs out a brief laugh as she fills up a glass.

"Next time," She scoffs, taking a sip. "As if."

The next time it happens, they are mercifully undisturbed by the evils of the morning sun. When Qrow sits up in bed and opens his eyes, he's at first confused as to where he is. Which is nothing out of the ordinary, he supposes, but there's also confusion as to what woke him up. Whatever room he's in is cool, quiet and mostly in darkness, mercifully sparing him from the worst effects of his hangover, though it still throbs insistently in the back of his mind. He rubs the back of his head and lets out a low whistle. He must have had quite a lot to drink last night for it to have done this much of a number on him.

Alright, where am I? He mentally goes through the steps. He's in a bed with slightly itchy linen sheets, and he's naked. From what he can tell he still has all his limbs and internal organs. As his eyes adjust to the dark he can see items of clothing spread out across the sparsely-furnished room. There's one of his boots, a flash of crimson he can identify as his cape; in front of the bed is a small flatscreen TV, a couple of chairs in the corner- oh.

It's a motel room. The door is to his right, a window next to it with the blinds tightly drawn, and what he thinks is a bathroom just out of sight. He can see a faint patch of light spilling through the crack under the door, the only illumination in the place. Then he realizes what woke him up; faintly there's the sound of the shower running, and if he strains to hear there's a woman's voice mingled with the running water. She's singing, and he can't quite make out the words but it seems to be a jazzy kind of number.

So he brought someone back with him. Who? He quickly looks down at his palm where he usually writes down the name of his current one-night stand. That's the system he uses to avoid getting kicked out when he's too smashed to remember in the mornings. It usually works, provided he keeps his hands busy so whoever he's with doesn't see it. But there's no name written down this time. Damn, drunk me really dropped the ball.

There's a face, though, slowly emerging from his hungover mind. It's hazy, merely a blurred collection of half-remembered features and still images from the night before. Until he idly wonders why there's a snow-white jacket slung neatly over the back of one of the chairs, and the image suddenly emerges with vivid and unwanted clarity. Oh shit.

To make matters worse, he hears the bathroom door opening right as the realization hits him. So, Qrow defaults into the most basic survival instinct he knows. In an instant, his body is compressed into a tiny, feathered frame, and as Winter emerges with her hair wrapped in a towel he can only manage a startled squawk. The look on her face is priceless, he has to admit.

"Really?" she says, paralyzed from the shock of a mid-sized corvid standing on the pillow. "I knew you were strange, but… that is something else." Qrow struggles to slow down his breathing and focus, and with another jolt he is once again a two-legged featherless creature with opposable thumbs. Before he can explain, the Specialist scoops up her jacket, tosses the towel in his direction, and heads for the door.

He doesn't really have a response for this, so he figures he'll default to banter. "Nice singing, Ice Queen." He says, and Winter pauses in her headlong rush for the door. She fixes him with a steely glare and responds with a few mumbled obscenities and a surprisingly graphic hand gesture for someone so classy. Then she's walking out the door, and over the noise of the traffic outside he hears her mention something about him picking up the bill.

Yeah. Classy. She has a one-night stand with you in a motel room, cusses you out and then leaves you the tab. Real classy.

As Qrow gets to his feet and staggers towards the shower, he mumbles a few choice obscenities of his own about Winter Schnee.

"Never again." He growls as he tries to figure out the hot water. He thinks to himself that it's the best idea he's had in years.

Next time there is no gentle awakening for either of them. Winter's eyes shoot open and she's on the floor crawling towards what looks like a bathroom before she even has a chance to register that whatever she had to drink last night is not agreeing with her.

Fortunately her assumption proved correct and she barely makes it to the toiled before she pukes violently. As she rocks back on her heels and takes a quick breath, she finds it within herself to thank God that Qrow (she knows it's him at this point, because no other one-night prospect would have possibly coaxed her into drinking whatever vile stuff is currently turning her stomach inside out) isn't awake now to see this.

And then he starts laughing. She feels at this moment that she's reached some kind of pinnacle of suffering; if Cuts Week back in Specialist Training was the closest she'd ever get to Hell, Winter decides that this must be what purgatory is like- waking up every few weeks in a different room but in the same situation, always reluctant bedfellows with a man she despised but couldn't seem to get away from. Trapped by his infuriating ability to get under her skin and entertain her in the sack.

She bends down and retches again as she hears a Scroll buzz in the bedroom. When Qrow speaks again, she is surprised by the softness in his voice. "Hey, Firecracker. What's up?" Winter chances a glance away from the toilet and sees Qrow standing in the open doorway, shirtless and with his Scroll pressed to his ear. His smile is not its usual smug self but something more gentle- full of pride and genuine good humor. She starts to gape but another twist of her gut forces her to turn back to the toilet. She can hear him speaking as she coughs and wheezes.

"Today's the big day, huh? Yeah, of course I wouldn't miss the chance to give you a call." What's so important about today? Who's Firecracker? Qrow chuckles softly. "That's me. Best uncle in the universe. How'd the first day go? Got a team yet?" A team… Qrow's got two nephews, doesn't he? No, nieces. Maybe he's calling one of them. Why?

Wait a minute…

Instantly Winter feels horrible. Of course. Yesterday was the first day of class at Beacon! I should call Weiss, she thinks, but the very thought of having to move makes her queasy. Qrow laughs loudly behind her. "She exploded? Really? Well, who did she bump into?" She turns in time to catch the blood drain from Qrow's face, though he keeps his voice level. "Weiss… Schnee? As in one of those Schnee company bigwigs?"

As Winter pukes again, she decides that the universe has the absolute sickest sense of humor.

Qrow whistles. "Wow. A crater in the courtyard? Is she okay?" She can't hear the response, but Qrow's face visibly brightens. "That's good. Listen, I've got to go now, but I'll call Ruby after the initiation. Don't worry about it, Yang. You'll do just fine." His eyes soften again, and Winter swears she hears him choking up. "I'm very proud of you. Have a good one, Firecracker."

He slides his Scroll closed with a click and catches Winter's guilty expression. For a moment he pauses, and without a word he turns back into the bedroom. Winter can hear him shuffling around as she turns back to the toilet and pukes again. She rocks back on her heels, feeling slightly purged of whatever foul concoction she had last night, glancing up to find Qrow standing over her, offering her Scroll. She hopes the grateful expression she shoots him makes up for the fact that she can't stomach saying thank-you.

Weiss is saved at the top of her list of contacts, saving her a lot of fumbling. She taps the call button and holds it up to her ear as it rings. Finally, Weiss picks up. "Winter?"

At the sound of her voice she feels her usual sternness slipping away. "Hello, Wiess" she says warmly. "I thought I'd call, since your first day at Beacon is over." Weiss' tone brightens immediately. "It's wonderful to hear from you, Winter! I was hoping you'd call."

"Of course I would. It's a big day for you, after all." She responds, her younger sister's enthusiasm infectious. "How have you fared so far?" Weiss lets out a huff. "It was alright, I suppose. It's just- well, there was this brat who practically bowled me over on my way to drop off my luggage! She almost blew me up when she sneezed and set off some dust in the air. A whole vial, Winter! Destroyed on my first day!"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Winter replies, resting her head against the wall. "But I'm sure things will improve when it comes time to demonstrate your skills." Instantly Weiss' enthusiasm roars back to life. "But of course! The initiation's in a few hours. I'm aiming to be a team leader!"

Now was perhaps the time to rein her sister in a little. Winter doesn't want her to get so competitive she ruins any chance she has of making friends. "That's all well and good, but first you have to pass. You have a lot of standards to live up to." Weiss' crestfallen sigh echoes in the darkened room. "But I'm sure that you're more than capable of reaching them." She continues, smiling once more. "I have to go now, Weiss. I'll talk to you later. And…" She pauses for a moment, running her hand across the smoothly tiled floor. When she speaks, her voice is thick with emotion. "I'm proud of you. For doing this on your own. I know father doesn't approve, but… I believe in you."

"Thank you." Weiss softly responds. "I'll talk to you soon, Winter. Wish me luck!" The Specialist chuckles. "You won't need it." She says, and hangs up. When she puts the Scroll to one side she's surprised to see Qrow crouched next to her. "Scoot." He grumbles, trying to shoo her away. Winter tries to stand, but another surge of nausea drives her back to the toilet.

Qrow and her both vomit at almost the same time, and for a remarkably serene moment Winter accepts that this is absolute rock bottom. She need not fear getting any lower than where she is now. What the hell did she drink last night?

Qrow gasps for air and groans. When he speaks, it is with the voice of a soul in agony. "This is a new low for both of us." "Agreed." Winter mutters, feeling queasy beyond belief. When they speak next, they do so in harmony and for once, in complete agreement.

"We have to stop doing this."

The next time it happens, something is off. As usual, Winter wakes up, but this time is different from the previous ones. Same room, for once- hers, where the first-and what should have been last- incident occurs. But her head isn't spinning, or throbbing in pain, her stomach feels perfectly normal, and aside from the usual fog of tiredness she is thinking quite clearly.

"Morning."

As she glances over at Qrow and realizes that he doesn't reek of cheap beer and expensive liquor, the realization descends upon her. Fortunately, an explanation is not long in coming.

Winter rolls over and buries her head under the covers.

Qrow's voice is thick with equal parts confusion and irritation. "What are you doing, Ice Queen?" Winter grumbles and burrows herself deeper. "I don't feel hungover." She explains. "And I always am when this happens. So I've concluded that this is a dream."

She lets out a startled yelp as Qrow forcefully pinches her, leaping from the sheets and landing softly on the floor. "What the hell was that for?" Qrow just shrugs. Winter is very grateful that she's actually in a fit state to kick his ass this time. "Have I convinced you that you're not dreaming?" he says, and the full import of the statement hits her so hard she nearly falls over. "What happened last night?"

Qrow shrugs again. "The usual." He points to the rest of her apartment. "I think we one-upped ourselves this time, though. You're gonna need a new couch. And resurface some of the walls. And don't quote me on this, but I think the bed is slightly tilted."

Winter is in shock. This does not compute. "But that's impossible." Qrow raises an eyebrow. "Why?" "Because I'm sober." She replies, letting herself fall forward onto the mattress. Yes, there is a definite downward slope towards Qrow's side. "What was I thinking? How did you manage to convince me?"

Qrow takes on a quizzical expression. "Well don't ask me, I don't-" Suddenly he looks every bit as shocked as her. "Wait, I actually do remember. That's so trippy." He holds his hands up in front of his face and inspects them as if he's waiting for them to turn into Taijitu. "Seriously, Winter, this is a whole new feeling for me."

"Congratulations." She snarls, praying desperately to every deity she can think of to have her wake up right about now. "I'll leave you to grapple with this new outlook on life while I focus on suppressing this memory as much as possible." She points blindly in the general direction of the door. "Kindly see yourself out."

Qrow is oddly silent as he gets to his feet and begins to get dressed. Perhaps he's still adjusting to the unusual experience of a sober one-night stand. Winter, for her part, resolves to get up and get dressed as well. She's not due on base until later this evening, so she decides to go for something more comfortable. She's just pulled her jeans on when she hears Qrow leave. She has her t-shirt on halfway over her head when she hears him return.

"Uh, Ice Queen?" he says. "Have you looked outside at all?" Winter feels something cold seize her heart as she heads for the window. No. Not today, of all days. But it's with a heavy sense of inevitability that she pulls the curtains aside and sure enough, the streets are empty of cars. The outside of the building is packed with snow almost to her balcony. She lives on the second floor.

"Shit." She hisses. It's a major snowstorm, the kind of thing Atlas prepares for a few times every year, but it will still take a few hours for the plows to dig the city out. She is stuck here. Sober. With him. Already he's saying something to her from the front door. She's tuning him out so far, but soon she'll be stuck listening to his chatter for hours. She's got to find a way to shut him up.

Memories of the night before spring unbidden to her mind. She breathes deeply and makes a calculated, tactical choice. It is either this or homicide and hurriedly flinging the corpse into a ravine. Off comes the shirt.

"Well it looks like a regular snow day, doesn't it Ice Quee-" Qrow's stopped in his tracks as Winter storms into the hallway. She points sharply to the bedroom. "Come on. Get back in there. Now." Qrow begins unlacing his boots with surprising speed. "Not that I'm complaining, but… Why?" Winter sighs. "If there's one thing that our record shows, it's that the one place where I find you consistently tolerable is in there." She motions again to the bedroom. "So of all the ways to spend three hours in a confined space with you, it's either this, murder, or I throw you from the balcony and let you find your way home. Take your pick."

Qrow is already moving past her, unbuttoning his jacket.

Never again, she thinks, but she doesn't dare to say it out loud. Just in case she tempts fate and winds up here. Again. But she has a sinking feeling that whatever she does, it'll always come back around to this kind of moment.

At this point, she'd prefer an eternity in Hell with Drill Sergeant Daisy to this endless purgatory with Qrow Branwen.

Never again.

It happens again, because of course it does. But this time, they're somewhere different altogether, and as Qrow slides the saucepan back and forth across the stove he's decided that this is even weirder than waking up sober.

He really should keep this house better stocked, he thinks, seeing as he could only find a package of bacon in the freezer when he got up this morning, but he's not really in Patch often enough to justify it, and even when he is the whole place just feels excessive.

A two-story home a ten-minute walk from the beach is not usually his kind of thing. It feels too big and empty, and the layer of dust on most of the furniture speaks to how infrequent of a tenant he is. But Ozpin had insisted on decent accommodations, and he'd needed a place to be close to Yang and Ruby when Tai had been in his rut. He'd just hung onto it for the sake of habit.

It doesn't feel so empty now, though. Maybe that's because he knows someone else is in the house with him. Speak of the devil; he can hear the stairs creaking as she steps into the kitchen. Her hair's slightly mussed up, but other than that she looks good. They hadn't had that much to drink the night before anyway, not by their usual standards.

"What are you doing?" she says, stifling a yawn. In answer he steps to one side so she can see the frying pan and the pork sizzling within. "I was hungry. I'm making bacon." He says. It wasn't some romantic gesture, or anything. Qrow's not that big of a sap. He was hungry. He wanted food. Fast-food chains are surprisingly rare on rustic little Patch. It still seems to throw Winter for a loop.

"That's… Actually fairly typical for you." She says. "I think I'll be off, though." She's halfway to the door when her stomach growls loudly and it's all Qrow can do not to burst out laughing. Winter looks mortified. Qrow looks down at the pan, does some quick math. He probably made too much, anyway. Doesn't want it going bad in the fridge while he's off on a mission.

"Tell you what" he says. "Bacon's almost ready. Have a seat for a bit, and maybe I'll save a few strips for you." Winter pauses for a moment, ice-blue eyes guarded and suspicious, but eventually she relents. "Fine. Let me know when it's ready." Without another word she heads into the living room. Qrow's confused when he doesn't hear the TV turn on until Winter lets out a breath and starts to count. A quick peek around the corner reveals she's doing push-ups.

"-Three. Four. Five. Six…" The count quickly fades into the background as Qrow focuses his attention on his cooking. He wouldn't usually make such a big deal out of burnt bacon strips, but Winter's presence compels him to do better. She probably has caviar and vintage wine for breakfast at home; the least he can do is supply her with not-burnt food.

"...Aaaand done." He says, flipping the bacon onto his and Winter's plates in equal portions with a sense of satisfaction. Winter quickly joins him at the counter, pulling up a chair. He fills up two glasses of water, scrounges up some forks from one of the kitchen cabinets, and they eat. Winter is surprisingly voracious, and Qrow finds himself grateful that he just cooked the whole packet.

She catches his slightly awestruck stare. "Boot camp." She says, by way of explanation. "Part of Cuts Week- during the last week of training you get 2500 calories a day, which is the absolute minimum a person needs to sustain themselves. I've been hungry ever since." Qrow laughs, and not in a mean-spirited way for once. He never even considered that she had a sense of humor beyond sarcastic jibes.

"Glad you like it." he says, and surprisingly he means it. "You know how much I like to drink, so I know all the good hangover foods. It comes in handy." Winter rolls her eyes, but she's smiling faintly. "Well, at least you can cook worth a damn." She says. "Until Basic Training I only knew how to make one thing that didn't come pre-made out of a box. I'd never even seen how they cooked the food before."

"No way," Qrow says, leaning forward with a grin. Winter just nods with an imperious smile. "Welcome to life in the Schnee household. You should have seen the recruiting sergeant's face when 'learning to cook for myself' was one of the career goals on my application."

Qrow laughs again. Winter devours another strip. "This is good." She declares. She's quiet for a moment, looking down at her plate. Qrow watches her fingers tap out a rhythm on the countertop. "You're making more bacon. Next time, I mean."

Qrow almost spits out his sip of water. "I thought that part of this whole… Thing was that there were no next-times." Winter sighs and slumps in her chair. "True enough." She says. "But at this point I think we both know that this is kind of inevitable. We keep ending up here." She idly kicks at the counter. "It's like purgatory."

"Well, I guess that's one way to put it." He mutters, pulling his flask from his pocket and unscrewing the top. When he takes a swig, Winter's eyes seem to bug out. "You can't be serious." Qrow just shrugs, knowing how much it'll annoy her. "What, Ice Queen?"

"It's just past seven o'clock in the morning and you're drinking whiskey." She says accusingly. As if he ought to be ashamed. "Hey, I've had way worse than this in the mornings. Just try it with vodka. Or tequila." Winter nearly gags. "I'll pass, thank you."

Qrow flashes her a grin and returns to his breakfast. They eat in silence for a little while, the only sound forks scraping against plates. Winter sits up in her chair, looking wistful. "Omelettes." She says, as if she'd just revealed some great universal truth. Qrow scratches his head, trying to figure out what she's talking about. "Come again, Ice Queen?"

"Omelettes" she continues, seeming suddenly bashful. "That's the one food I know how to make. Klein, our butler, showed me how one time when I was little." Qrow stops and thinks for a moment, looking down at his plate. It's risky, what comes to mind. But he's nothing if not a gambler. "Tell you what." He says. "When this happens again, wherever it happens- you make omelettes, I make whatever I can cobble together from the contents of the fridge. Or minibar, if it comes to that. Deal?"

Winter seems to think it over for a moment. "Deal." Then her expression slides into something more hostile, but… Playful, too. "Just so we're clear" she says, leaning towards him "I'm only in this for the bacon." Qrow laughs again, loudly this time. "You took the words right out of my mouth." He says, and they enjoy the rest of the meal in comfortable silence.

Qrow washes up (in other words, tosses the plates and forks in the sink and promises to deal with them later) while Winter heads upstairs and collects the rest of her things. Soon he's wiping down the countertop while she's standing at the door, pulling her shoes on.

"I'd better get back to the mainland." She says. "Where's the ferry terminal?" Qrow points to the dirt road outside. "Beach is just down that road. Head East when you get there and you'll find it. It's about a half-hour walk."

"I'll jog, then." She says, opening the door to let in a blast of morning air. "And Qrow?" she looks at him for a long moment, and then she winks. "See you next time."

"Next time." He says, and as the door slams shut Qrow can't decide whether he's looking forward to the night before or the morning after.

Yeah. Next time.