#again. i need to emphasize---it never comes across as creepy just really cute and tender | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itsclydebitches · 7 years ago

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Sugar-Coated Everything

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Relationships: Qrow/Ozpin

Series: RWBY Rare Pair Week ( @rwbyrarepairweek ).

Prompt: Free Day so that means BAKERY AU HELL YEAH

Summary: How absurd, that Glynda would suggest Ozpin is lonely, of all things. What does a man need except good work, good books, and...

...and Qrow Branwen, apparently.

***

Ozpin paused in the act of icing his cookies, looking up at Glynda with a thoroughly amused expression. After a moment he simply gestured to the work still laid out for him to do: icing cakes, dough to bake, bread currently rising, the photo albums he’d been meaning to update. Glynda rolled her eyes. It was a very old argument.

“You should try,” she emphasized, picking at a bit of cookie dough with distaste. “Honestly, Oz, spending dusk ‘till dawn in this place isn’t healthy. Who do you talk to other than your customers? And me?”

“Do I need someone other than you?”

“Oh please. Flattery hasn’t worked since college. Try again.”

Truthfully, Ozpin wasn’t sure flattery had worked on Glyn back in college either, but he bowed his head in assent. Transferring the cookies to a clean sheet he licked stray icing off his fingers, thinking over her comment.

“There’s James,” Ozpin said.

“You don’t talk to James, you two bicker. That hardly counts. Again, please.”

Ozpin chuckled. “What is this, an interrogation? Glynda, you seem to be under the mistaken impression that I’m unhappy and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I have you, James—despite your protests—my books, and my shop.” Ozpin laid a hand fondly over his counter, picking up flour and enjoying the feel of it between his fingers. “There are men out there far less fortunate than I.”

The morning rush would be starting soon. Ozpin had perfected his timing over the years, but that only held up if he wasn’t distracted by well-meaning friends. It was with a pointed look that Ozpin brushed by Glynda, rolling up balls of dough with a serene smile.

“You’re impossible,” Glynda muttered. “Worse than the kids.”

“That’s right. Shouldn’t you be heading off to teach them?”

Glynda glared, but it melted away when facing that smile. She sighed, smoothing her pencil skirt and picked up her bag. On her way out of the kitchen Glynda laid a hand on Ozpin’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I’m not worried that you’re unhappy,” she said. “I’m just worried that you’re lonely.”

Ozpin leaned into her touch but otherwise kept quiet. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

***

Beacon was a small, rustic bakery a mere three blocks from Atlas University where Glynda taught—a closeness that often benefited and frustrated them in equal measure. Ozpin had thought long and hard about following her there, the chance to shape young minds an alluring possibility, until Ozpin realized that education came in many forms. When asked about his bakery’s name, he told people honestly that good food was like a beacon of light in an otherwise dark world. He felt that he could help others with a good cookie or slice of bread, often in ways they didn’t immediately understand.

The students thought he was crazy. As did most of the professors. Ozpin didn’t mind.

Especially when his work so rarely felt like work. This was normally his favorite part of the day, when students running late rushed in for bagels or donuts, parents and 9-to-5’ers following at their heels for a good cup of coffee. Ozpin enjoyed the rush and the early morning complaints, made slightly better by his food. Today though, Glynda’s comment refused to leave him alone. Each interaction was enjoyable… but simplistic. Hollow. Ozpin passed a bag of donut holes across his counter and for the first time had to muster up his smile.

“Absurd,” he muttered when the rush died down. “This will pass, as all things do.” The tiny bell over his door rang and Ozpin turned, determined to reclaim his normal, upbeat spirit. He smiled a true smile.

And it immediately faded.

The man who’d just walked through his door was new to Ozpin—must be new to the neighborhood because it wasn’t in arrogance that he claimed everyone visited his shop at one time or another, and Ozpin never forgot a face. He certainly wouldn’t have forgotten his: lean and handsome with a 5 o’clock shadow, experience etched into every line of his cheeks while a veil of tenderness still lay behind his eyes. Ozpin’s smile faded because he found himself frozen, stunned in a way that hadn’t happened in years. He wiped suddenly sweating palms down the front of his apron.

“Hello,” Ozpin said and immediately winced at how his voice cracked. “Ah, apologies. I’ve… a bit of a cold. Nothing that contaminates the wares though, I assure you. It’s all perfectly safe.” Ozpin shut his eyes briefly at the sound of his own rambling. “Yes. Well. How can I help you?”

…he shouldn’t have asked such an open question. Oh dear.

Luckily, if the man noticed his ridiculous floundering he didn’t comment on it. In fact, Ozpin would be surprised if this man noticed any proverbial elephant in the room. He looked exhausted beyond belief, one hand scrubbing at his face while the other fished crumpled bills out of his pocket. The man dragged himself forward and tossed them onto the counter.

“I need a birth cake,” he said, voice raspy. He leaned one elbow down and nestled his chin in the crook of his hand. He smiled tiredly.

Ozpin, meanwhile, tried valiantly to get his heart-rate under control. “Of course. I have a number of birthday cake options. You’re free to browse my portfolio—”

“No, no, no,” the guy waved his hand. “I need a birth cake. Like, take whatever cheap-ass, three-day old shit you’ve got laying around and write BIRTH on it all sloppily.” He paused. “Not that your shit is shit. The birthday boy just doesn’t need anything extravagant. Don’t exert yourself.”

Ozpin stood, torn between amusement and slight horror. For the first time he realized that this man wasn’t just exhausted, but thoroughly hung over. As a rule Ozpin had very little tolerance for the drunk and this realization should have displeased him… yet he felt only a strange rush of fondness. Like he’d just found a disgustingly bedraggled kitten. Stupid, but cute.

“Just a moment,” he said.

Three-day old shit? Honestly. As if Ozpin had ever sold anything that wasn’t fresh and wonderful. (Okay, so there was his failed scones experiment, but he hadn’t sold those, just given them away to exceedingly wary customers.) He did, however, have options on the simpler side. Ozpin took a small cake out from the display case, already covered in his favorite, green fondant. As he set about finding a decent piping bag he took a detour into his kitchen, filling up a clean glass of water for his customer. The guy twitched a little, clearly surprised by the gesture, but he took the water greedily, downing nearly all of it in a single gulp.

From there on out it was easy. Ozpin was a fan of all holidays, including Halloween, and it was a simple matter to pipe BIRTH is creepy, jagged lettering. When he was done he turned the cake around and the man immediately started laughing.

“Fucking perfect,” he said, slapping his thigh. “That’s what I’m talking about. Shit, I like you…”

Ozpin bit his lip hard so as not to blurt how happy he was to hear that. “Might I inquire as to who this unique cake is for?”

“Beloved brother-in-law.”

“…ah.”

“Hey, this cover it?”

Ozpin looked to the mess of bills still strewn on his counter. They were numerous and all twenties.

“This is actually too much—”

“Eh, keep it. I’m in a generous mood. Not too steady on my feet though, huh?” The man shrugged ruefully. Indeed, he was now swaying a bit and appeared a little green around the gills. “Look, I’ve got kids who’ll pick this up later, alright? You just… just enjoy your day now, Mr…”

“Ozpin,” he said, giving into a laugh of his own. “And you are?”

“Qrow Branwen. Nice to meet cha’.”

“Likewise. Do go get some rest, Qrow.”

“Brilliant fucking plan.” Qrow waved vaguely in Ozpin’s direction before wandering out the door, that little bell causing him to flinch this time in pain. Honestly, Ozpin half wondered if Qrow would remember this encounter at all. He certainly hoped so.

“Only because he needs his cake,” Ozpin murmured and for a while reveled in that lie.

***

His lunch rush hit two hours later. The little girl came in an hour after that.

“Hello?” she said, poking only her head through the door, like she was exploring some dangerous place and not a well-lit bakery. When her gaze finally settled on the counter Ozpin gave a little wave.

“Hello,” he echoed. “You wouldn’t by any chance be one of Qrow’s ‘kids’ now would you?”

It was the difference between night and day. The girl’s face lit up and she scrambled inside. Ozpin barely saw her move before she was halfway up the counter, pushing back a red hoodie and bouncing on her toes.

“He’s my uncle!” she chirped. “I’m supposed to pick up a cake for my dad because today’s his birthday and Uncle Qrow was going to do it, but he got kinda drunk last night and that’s not his fault, not really, because Raven—Yang’s mom, not mine—said she’d visit Dad but then backed out and she and Uncle Qrow got into this biiiiig fight, so he’s sleeping now and I can totally carry the cake back all by myself.”

It must have been something that ran in the family. Whereas normally Ozpin would have been irritated by the English-mangling ramble, with this little one he found it only endearing. She couldn’t have been any older than ten, filled with happy energy and ready to prove her worth. Ozpin leaned down on the counter so he was nearer to her eye level.

“What’s your name?” he asked kindly.

“Ruby. Ruby Rose. And my sister is Yang and my dad is Tai. You’re Ozpin, right? Uncle Qrow remembered that much.”

A thrill ran through him, but Ozpin pushed it back down.

“How come…” Ruby hesitated, thinking over the question. “How come you’ve got such white hair?”

“I am very, very old.”

She giggled. “No you’re not. You look young!”

“Well then isn’t that just my luck. Do you know how I stay so young?” he leaned in, as if imparting a great secret.

Ruby’s eyes grew appropriately wide. “How?”

“These,” and Ozpin tapped a display case—a whole mound of chocolate chip cookies. Ruby looked as if he’d just confirmed something that she, along with all children, knew instinctually, and wasn’t that just grand? “Would you like a free sample, Ruby?”

Ozpin didn’t have free samples, but that didn’t stop him from giving Ruby a triple chocolate chip cookie when she nodded. He really hadn’t been joking. Joy like that was how anyone stayed young.

While Ruby enjoyed her snack Ozpin pulled out the cake, watching as she sprayed crumbs down the front of her shirt in laughter. After only a second though Ruby became somber, looking now at the lettering with a calculating air.

“Can you write other stuff?” she asked, sneakers squeaking on his tiled floor.

“Of course. Anything you wish.”

“I’ve only got this much though,” Ruby said, pulling out a few one-dollar bills and a depleted packet of gum. Lucky for her, Ozpin had always been rather fond of Tutti Frutti.

That’s how Ruby left his shop with three things: her father’s cake (little tyke was stronger than she looked), a bag of iced sugar cookies that spelled out “ZWEI BROKE THE REMOTE NOT ME,” and a message to Qrow from Ozpin.

Please come again.

He really was a blessed man. Qrow came back the very next day.

***

“I need a cake!” he announced shouting it loud enough that poor Ms. Peach nearly dropped her loaf of bread. Ozpin steadied her and sent a glare up at Qrow.

“Very well, but you will wait your turn, Mr. Branwen.”

Qrow only grinned. “Is that your ‘I’m in trouble’ voice? Not bad, I gotta say. Alright. That’s fine. Look at me patiently waiting,” and he leaned against the doorjamb in a pose so exaggerated Ozpin nearly broke.

He had to look to Ms. Peach to ground himself. “My apologies. Here, let me help you…”

Despite his supposed focus on what had long been a valued customer, Ozpin couldn’t help but sneak numerous glances up at Qrow. The change was staggering. Whereas yesterday he had been disorientated, listless, today he was just overflowing with energy—and Ozpin could easily see where young Ruby had learned it all from. More than that though, Qrow looked better, as if such a thing were even possible. He had healthy color in his cheeks and a lightness to his step. The simple jeans and t-shirt he wore were a huge step up to yesterday’s wrinkled clothing.

And now he was flirty too. Ozpin swallowed around a very dry throat.

“A cake,” he said when Peach had finally left. “Odd. Don’t tell me there’s another birthday so soon?”

Qrow snorted. “Nah, but needing another is entirely your fault. Dinky think you sold me is kinda small for four people and Ruby has been going on and on about how great your stuff is…” Qrow dropped him a wink and Ozpin didn’t know whether that meant he should be proud of gaining Ruby’s approval, or if such approval was just an excuse.

An excuse for what?

“Hmm,” Qrow hooked one hand on the counter and swung himself down into a crouch. He pointed—seemingly randomly—at a pink cake with flowers in the corner. “How about that one?”

Ozpin could see Qrow through his display case, all manner of sweets superimposed over his form. He shook himself out of a daze.

“Of course, of course. Did you want anything written on this one?”

“A five.”

He stopped in the act of drawing out the cake. Ozpin blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I need a five on it.” Qrow mimed drawing a massive five in the air. His grin said he was teasing… but Ozpin was clearly missing the joke. “Nothing fancy, just elementary school level stuff.”

“Does your entire family enjoy such strange confectionery preferences?”

“Ha! Wait until Yang gets in here.”

Ozpin didn’t have to wait long. Just two days after he gave Qrow a cake with a five on it (“Are you sure this is what you want?”) the most intimidating twelve-year-old Ozpin had ever met blew into his shop. Literally. She charged her bike right through the front door, bringing with her a gust of wind that scattered Ozpin’s flyers and all his loose cupcake liners. When she got that mane of blonde hair out of her face Ozpin met Yang Xiao Long, the perfect kind of firecracker to round-out this odd trio.

She pointed finger guns at Ozpin and demanded a cake with a six. Not a nine, six. Make sure you put a line underneath so we know which way is up.

“Are you playing some sort of prank on your poor father?” Ozpin asked. He was at a loss as to what else these cakes could be for.

The smile Yang gave him was a little scary. “Please. Dad knows when we’re playing a prank.”

Oh dear.

It went on like this, Ruby or Yang or Qrow (preferably) coming in every few days, asking for a cake with some random number on the top. Three times they asked only for strips, a single line down the middle of their chosen cake. Eight more times he sold to them and each time Ozpin felt simultaneously left out of and a part of something intimate. He faithfully learned the intricate handshake that Yang taught him. He put up the drawing of Zwei that Ruby gifted him. He tried valiantly to give Qrow his phone number.

“I am a coward,” Ozpin told his donuts and their glazed goodness judged him appropriately.

“What was that?” Qrow asked and Ozpin shook his head. He was over by the cookies again, picking out a selection for Ruby, and no teasing would ever convince Qrow that he was spoiling that girl. Not that Ozpin was much better. Over the course of three weeks he’d experimented with tart flavors for Yang and built new cookie-cutters to create the monsters from Ruby’s imagination. They were both, in a word, whipped.

Qrow wandered back over, dropping the bag of cookies between them. Ozpin waited for the cake order. It didn’t come.

“Is that all?” he asked, ringing up the cookies. Odd, but he was rather disappointed.

Qrow didn’t answer at first. He took his time going through his wallet. “You take pictures of all this stuff, right?”

“Why…? Yes. Yes, I do. For my portfolio.” Ozpin gestured to the ever-present binder by the register. “People like to see what I’ve done in the past before committing to a more expensive cake. Or they can browse to get ideas.”

“Yeah. Makes sense. You even take pics of our shitty numbered stuff?”

Ozpin smiled. “Yes. Even your ‘shitty numbered stuff.’”

“Alright.” For the first time since he’d known him, Qrow appeared a little out of his depth. Nervous, even. “Do me a favor then, Oz. Go back and put all those pics together. Chronologically. Then you can decide.”

“Decide?”

Qrow was already halfway out the door. He raised a hand in farewell. “Yep. Your decision, Oz.”

Fascinating.

Ozpin closed shop early that day, for the first time in nearly two years. It was the work of only a few minutes to lay out all the photos… and when he did Ozpin very much wanted to hit himself.

It was a phone number. Three dashes, ten numbers. He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep a giddy laugh contained. He might be alone, but how embarrassing.

Instead Ozpin stared hard at all the photos, drinking them in and enjoying the little shivers they sent down his spine. When he felt like he could move again Ozpin took another pic of the whole thing, sending it off to Glynda. Her understandably confused response came quick.

What the hell am I looking at?

Ozpin tilted his head back and smiled at the ceiling.

The answer to your worry, Glyn.

#rwbyrarepairweek #Ozqrow #Cloqwork #RWBY #Ozpin/Qrow #RWBYfic

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