Chapter Text
Qrow never liked Opera music. At least, he said so when asked. Truth be told, he’d never listened to it outside of a Looney Tunes skit as a kid, and when Summer had forced them all to watch Phantom of the Opera in College. But he didn’t like it. It was boring, like old lady music, and he wasn’t some old broad in the seats of the theater with those stupid little glasses. Nope, give him Five Finger Death Punch and Iron Maiden any day.
That being said. Summer, unfairly, had the gift of all powerful puppy dog eyes, which is how he got roped into a night at the opera with her. Kill him now.
“Oh come on Qrow! It’ll be fun! It’s not like a play or anything! More like a concert! Trust me, you’ll like it if you give it a chance.” she chirped, leading him by the arm into the grand old theater.
It was really a beautiful place, too fancy for him, but beautiful nonetheless. Thick red carpets with gold and black swirling and branching designs along the side, golden walls with plays to come postered on them between the pillars carved with vines and leaves. He hadn’t been in a place like this since his middle school trip to see Mary Poppins live. He had a feeling this wouldn’t be as fun as that though.
“Opera isn’t my thing, Sums. You know that.” he replied, hands shoved into the pockets of his suit. It was the same one he’d worn to Summer, Tai, and Raven's wedding. Simple black jacket, white button up, black slacks, and black shoes. He’d even worn a tie.
Summer, looking lovely in a black off the shoulders dress and matching heels, hair done up in an elegant bun; sighed and rolled her eyes. “I know, trust me, if Tai or Rae could have come I would have asked them! But ya know, things happen.”
“Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever.” he grumbled, “Lucky bastards.”
Raven had been called into work for an emergency, and the kids were sick. So both had been too busy to go, which only left Qrow, much to the lanky man's chagrin. He knew that it couldn’t really be helped. Like Summer said, things happen. But it was still annoying when it got in the way of his writing time. He still needed to finish his latest song, he was having some serious mental block and it was driving him nuts. Sure, he had lots of time to do it, but he didn’t like being late with work if he could help it.
~
Once they were sat, Qrow pulled out the playbill that Summer had taken from the usher. It had the basic stuff, names of the orchestra members, what songs were being sung; Qrow didn’t even know what half of the words for them were, since they seemed to be in another language.
“Italian.” Summer had told him when he asked. “It’s a beautiful language, a love language some say.”
“Gross.”
“You’re gross.”
“You bet I am!”
Summer snorted and rolled her eyes, she looked like she was about to say something, but the lights went down and everyone hushed.
Qrow leaned towards Summer and whispered, “If I fall asleep, don’t get mad.”
“I only promise to try.” she whispered back.
“Noted.” and he leaned back into his seat, ready for an hour or two long nap.
On stage, a man walked from behind the curtain. Qrow was a bit shocked by his appearance. He looked… young. He had silver hair, but his face still looked like it had baby fat. He wore strange dark glasses with zig-zag frames, a dark green suit which you could only tell was green when it hit the light. He walked calmly, a cane clacking on the ground next to him, his back was straight, and his face was serene. He was actually pretty hot if you asked him. From his seat, Qrow could see his golden brown eyes, they looked… sad, in a way. Aching.
He walked up to the mic and gave a nod to the conductor, adjusted his glasses, took a breath, and sang.
Qrow had never heard something like this before. Sure he’d heard good singers, beautiful singers even. But this? This man’s voice was on another plane of existence entirely. It was deep and rich, it enveloped Qrow like a warm summer breeze. It danced and swirled in the air around him, transfixing him to his seat. He’d never have guessed a person could make such a beautiful sound.
He watched the man with rapt attention, mouth slightly hung open in awe. He was fairly sure he had stars in his eyes, but if anyone asked, he’d deny it. The man on stage looked… far away though. Like he wasn’t really there at the moment. His eyes were half shut and he barely moved in his place. Though… maybe that was normal for opera singers?
“Summer?” he questioned quietly, “Who is this guy? I didn’t catch his name on the playbill.”
She shot him a mildly annoyed glance but whispered back, “Ozpin Pine. He’s one of the best opera singers in the world.”
“Ozpin Pine…” he murmured to himself, looking back at the owner or the name.
~
After the performance he walked into the lobby still in a daze. His steps felt light and he was a little wobbly.
“Are you ok? You didn’t take something before the show, right?” she asked, not a hint of judgment in her tone, which he appreciated.
“No no, I just… you were right. This was really good. He was an amazing singer. Might actually start listening to opera now.”
Summer gasped dramatically, her face lighting up like a christmas tree. “Oh Qrow! I knew you’d love it! Oh I can show you all my albums! We can go to the theater together! Tai and Rae go with me, but I know it bores them! This is so exciting!”
He chuckled and put his hands on her shoulders, trust Summer to take a mile when you give an inch on her interests, it’s one of her most endearing traits really. “Now hold on, short stack. I liked this guy, he was good, great even. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to get all dolled up to go out like this all the time.”
“I’m not asking you to stilts!” she playfully chided, smacking his arm, “I just wanna show you some more stuff with music! Ozpin is an incredible singer, and a good gateway to other types of music! You can’t listen to metal and only metal forever.”
“You fuckin take that back.” he glared, pointing an accusatory finger at her, which she snapped at before he pulled away.
“Make me bitch ass.”
“Oh so you wanna play like that huh? Get over here you little shit!”
She laughed as she ran down the street, Qrow chasing her the whole way. They probably looked like a couple of douchebags; but hey, they were having fun, so fuck it!
Eventually he caught her, swinging her around and putting her back down. She laughed and hit his shoulder calling him a dick, he laughed and ruffled her hair. It was usually how their games played out.
“So, you really liked it?” She asked as they walked down the street, arm and arm heading to the spot they parked.
“Yeah.” he replied, “It was good. That Ozpin guy really has some pipes on him.”
“Yeah, he’s also just a good guy all around from what I know about him. He teaches kids, he donates to charity, avid supporter of the LGBTQA+ community-.”
“Guy also cure cancer Sums?” he joked, earning a half shove from his short friend.
“I’m just saying!” she huffed, “He’s a good guy! I have a few albums of his if you wanna hear them.”
“Sure. Why not?”
~
Back home, Qrow laid in bed, his little light projector making galaxies on his walls and ceiling as he listened to Mr.Pine sing. Summer had given him several of his albums as soon as they walked through the door. And since he wasn’t a fucking plebian, he still had his old cd player.
Qrow just couldn’t get his mind off the strange man. They, obviously, hadn’t so much as spoken to each other. Yet here he was, day dreaming about hearing his voice in a little personal concert. It was kinda sad. Like, he was so lonely, that he only had to see a hot guy and his mind was off to the races.
He groaned and put his arms over his face. “Why am I like thiiiiiiis?” he lamented to no one.
(P.O.V CHANGE)
Upon entering his home, later than he’d wanted, mind you. Ozpin was greeted by the sight of Glynda curled on his couch, sipping his wine, and reading one of the books he kept on high shelves, lest Oscar try to reach it.
“How did it go?” she asked, not looking up from the pages.
“Well. Standing ovation.” He sighed, shirking his coat and vest off and all but flopping next to Glynda. “Have a glass to spare?”
“On the table.”
“You are a gift from above.”
She glanced up from the book, a knowing glint in her eyes and a wry smirk on her lips. “Darling you wish.”
That got a brief laugh out of him, as he poured himself a glass of wine, a rather nice vintage too. “How was Oscar?”
“A perfectly behaved gremlin as per usual.” she replied, “Bedtime was a bit rough, he begged to stay up to see you. Apparently I don’t tell the stories right.”
“You don’t do voices.”
She merely rolled her eyes and continued her reading. “Go say hello, he’s probably still up. I have a feeling he faked going to sleep for me.”
Ozpin huffed in amusement and stood, placing his wine glass delicately on the table. “I shall return and regal you with tales from tonight's show.”
“Should be riveting.” she deadpanned.
He smiled at her and made his way upstairs, the white thick rug on the steps muffling his ascent. As he ambled down the hall he looked upon the pictures on the wall. Some were of him and Oscar, faces stilling in smiles of forgotten laughter, or forgotten messes. Some were of him, on stage, mid performance or receiving an award of some kind. He never liked getting those, they felt fake in a way. Like he did good deeds to get something, truly he only wished to spread a bit of peace and help where he could with what he had.
He stopped musing at a particular one, it was Oscar’s first birthday after the divorce. Ozpin had tried his best to make it a spectacular one. And from the blinding smile on Oscar’s face in the picture and in Ozpin’s memory, he had succeeded. He smiled softly at the picture before moving on to his little pinecones room.
He knocked softly on the door before opening it with great care, lest he wake his sleeping son. Inside was dark, the only light coming from the slowly spinning night light on the floor, creating stars and moons on the walls in a soothing warm light. A soft melody was playing from the little speaker, he recognized it as Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, a preferred go to if Oscar was being fussy at night or at nap time.
He gingerly stepped to his son’s sleeping form on the bed, the sheets rising and falling rhythmically. Seemed Glynda was wrong about him faking it.
He knelt down, soothing a hand over the downy green comforter, stilling when Oscar’s form shifted. A beat passed before he stilled and Ozpin ever so gently moved the comforter down to see his son’s face.
Bleary green and orange stared back at him. “Daddy?”
“Ah, hello my love. I’m sorry to wake you.” he apologized in a whisper, “I only wished to give you a kiss goodnight. Go back to sleep.”
Oscar, against Oz’s wishes, sat up, sleepily reaching his arms out towards his father. Ozpin smiled and hefted him out of bed with a slight grunt before settling the 6 year old against his chest.
“Did you have a fun day with Auntie Glynda?” he asked, carding his fingers through Oscar’s hair.
“Mhm.” he replied, snuggling into Ozpin’s chest, his ear right over the silvernette’s heart. “Play n’ stuff.”
Ozpin hummed, “That sounds wonderful. I’m sorry I was home later than expected. I got trapped by Mr.Port.”
“He’s weeeeeird.” Oscar yawned, his eyes already closing again.
“Yes, yes he is. He’s a nice man though.” Ozpin chuckled.
“Daddy?”
“Yes sweetheart?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too Oscar. More than the sun, the moon and the stars.”