#mmmmmmm knowledge bacon

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

MITUNA: N0B0DY L00K 47 M3 1M 4N 1D107

MITUNA: 1 4M 7H3 5M4R7357 P3R50N 4L1V3

MITUNA: N0P3 1M DUMB 45 FUC7H77H

MITUNA: 1M 4 B4C0N 0F KN0WL3DG3

[valasania-the-pale]

Happy Birthday Ozpin!

Prompt: Qrow smashes cake in Ozpin’s face.

When Ozpin had woken up that morning, it had been with the sense of perfect serenity and comfort that comes with feeling totally at one with your life. He’d felt well-rested and amiable, a state of being he usually struggled to maintain as the headmaster of a school of variously complicated, precocious young adults, each with superhuman abilities and weapons of, arguably, mass destruction.

And it had been a wonderful morning too! Though the other side of the bed was empty, and he’d half-rolled over into the depression left behind (Blankets! Sleeping in had some benefits!), once he’d finally pulled himself out of the warm languor he’d been greeted by a lovely breakfast – all his favorites.

Eggs, scrambled with cheese and tiny bits of ham mixed in. Mm. Grapefruit and a tall glass of water to wash it down? Mmm. Bacon crisped to perfection, with those adorable little pancakes drenched juuuust right with syrup? Mmmmmmm.

And the kicker, a still piping hot (but not too hot!) mug of Vacuo’s best cocoa.

Ahhhh… Some days made immortality worth it.

But there was something missing to this perfect day – where was his beloved? He was hardly the type to miss out on claiming responsibility for treating his partner so well. No, there would always be the casual arrogance and predator’s grace that accompanied him, the knowledge that HIS actions led to Ozpin’s satisfaction, nobody else’s. And he’d always be there to take credit, just in case someone else tried to muscle in on the fruits of his work…

As if Ozpin would ever let them. Well, unless he was teasing. Then he might a little, just to rile him up…

When he brought his dishes over to the sink to wash up (Eh, he could do it this morning – he’d gotten to sleep in and breakfast was sitting in his gut just right, his mood could survive doing the dishes) however, something fluorescent yellow caught his eye.

Sticky notes. Or one. Singular. He’d never quite come to appreciate them the way Glynda does, but they were serviceable.

‘Xiao Long House, Nine o’clock. See you there, Oz. -Q’

Ozpin smiled. That would be a lovely time. The children were always adorable, and always begging for just one more scrap of a story from a Real-Life Huntsman! And he could never refuse those eyes. Lilac and Silver, wider than should be humanly possible, just the riiiight amount of fake tears to warm his heart.

He returned to their room and threw on his best – slacks, a blazer, tightening his forest-green cravat with the ease of centuries of practice (muscle memory was the best, really, and so useful for things outside of combat too). After slipping into his dress shoes (the nice pair, shined so bright he could see his face in them in the right light) he glanced in the mirror. Should he style his hair…?

Nah. Qrow liked the bedhead. And Little Ruby would probably mess it up anyways, she so liked playing with it.

And then he was off, and it felt like mere minutes before he was outside the front door of the tiny Patch cottage, instead of the half-hour flight from Vale that it really was.

“Come in!” Taiyang called from within.

Oz smiled, stepping inside with practiced, casual confidence. How long would it take before Ruby wa—

“SURPRIIII—”

‘SPLAT!!’

His world went white. Not the white of unconsciousness, but the white of cream. Vanilla, by the taste, of which he had ample time to sample given that it now coated his face.

“Oops.”

Bastard. Casual arrogance maybe, but predator’s grace his ass!

Oz silently plucked his spectacles off his nose, revealing that behind the layer of extravagant frosting the rest of the room was staring at him in utmost horror – or glaring death at a certain raven-haired bastard for ruining the moment (Thanks Tai, but you obviously don’t know your brother-in-law if you think that’ll matter to him).

Said raven-haired bastard smirked at him. Only smirked, arms held up high in the air, his feigned innocence an utter farce, belayed by his expression. Oz could only stare.

Hey wait.

He licked his glasses clean (Tai sighing behind him) and looked back at Qrow, a smirk of his own on his face. “You got the flavor right – Auntie Mistral’s Finest Vanilla?”

“Got it in one.”

Damn him.

Well, two could play at that game. Oz stepped right up into Qrow’s personal space and threw his arms around the suddenly-flailing huntsman, pulling him tight to his chest and smothering his best clothes in vanilla and what was obviously very delicious, very fluffy cake.

“Payback’s a bitch,” he muttered in Qrow’s ear, just low enough for the children to not overhear.

“Does this mean we’re not having a food fight?”

“Ruby, we’re not having a food fight, that would make a mess.”

Poor Tai, you’re just poking the bear saying things like that.

Qrow pulled away, a glint in his crimson eyes, and delicately grabbed a chunk of cake off of Oz’s shoulder. He drew back.

Huh. That was a nice shot – frosting dripped down Tai’s forehead, all along his face…

“Wooo! Food fight!”

“Yang! Ruby! Nooooo!”

“Weeee!”

The two huntsmen ducked behind a couch for cover as the war began, carefully marshalling their ammunition as Tai scrambled to protect the finery…

Oz gave Qrow the gimlet eye. “You planned this from the start.”

Damn that smirk. “Happy birthday.”

What else could he do but smile?

Happy Birthday yourself @tigerstripedmoon !