You groaned as your alarm blared, shattering the peaceful silence of the morning. With a swift motion, you slapped the clock, silencing it. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the hotel curtains, you stretched your arms, only to realize that something felt off.

Your clothes were missing.

Panic quickly replaced confusion, and you pulled the sheets up to cover yourself. But then, you felt a tug. The sheet was being pulled back, as if someone else was using it.

Wait. Someone else?

Your heart skipped a beat as you froze. This was your room, wasn’t it? You had specifically requested two rooms. You and Qrow Branwen were partners for the mission, but that didn’t mean you had to share anything, let alone a bed. You couldn’t stand the man. His cynical attitude, his disdain for Atlas and General Ironwood, not to mention his habit of disappearing with a bottle in hand at every opportunity, drove you insane.

So why the hell was there someone else in your bed?

Curiosity and dread mixed as you cautiously pulled at the sheets, revealing a mess of black and grey hair. Your breath caught in your throat. No. It couldn’t be.

But there he was. Qrow Branwen, sound asleep next to you. His clothes—along with yours—were strewn haphazardly on the floor.