Reputation: Book One

Tripp

A chapter in Tripp's perspective:

I let the cool breeze wash over my chest, my body sinking into the quilt beneath me. The oak tree overhead blocked the direct rays of sunlight from reaching my closed eyes, the surrounding pines that crept from the treeline mimicking the sound of faint rainfall. It was the perfect day to do nothing; just sprawl out in the yard and listen to the song of nature.

Until I hear the crunch of gravel from my driveway beneath heavy tires.

I lethargically sit up, squinting down to the road. Usually my road was empty, but a few cars passed behind what I knew was Qrow's white Toyota hybrid pulling in. I turn around, wincing at the sharp pain in my side. He crawled out in his black work uniform, slamming his door as he marched up to me.

"Long day?" I ask quietly. He rolls his eyes, tossing his keys onto the blanket.
"Jackson just fired me," He growls. I look up in surprise. "Woah, what?"
He solemnly nods.

"He is always constantly telling me I need to take my hair out of my ponytail I like to wear it in and so today he was like, 'Hendricks if I have to ask you again I'm cutting it off myself' and so I turned around and told him 'if you cut my damn hair I'm sueing' and so he looks me right in the face and says, 'get out of my restaurant'." Qrow tells me. "I mean, I don't really need a job," he says. "because of my bloodline I have a guarantee of no poverty."

"Yeah, but Adrien works and his wife is filthy rich," I note.

"Adrien quit the team only so he could cover up who we injure," He says flatly.

"But we should be able to have the freedom cops do too," I argue. "Why do we always have to cover up?"

"Police have to go to court if they kill someone," He tells me. I nod in agreement, laying back down into my spot. "But the deployed militia doesn't have to, and that's basically us," I point out. "The native French protecting our country from Germans, Myos and any other opposing Euros."

"But we aren't the ones leaving the country, they're coming here."

"Yes, although they're trying to attack us," I tell him. He groans, laying down beside me. He lets out a big breath, rolling over onto his side to face me.

"Being a hero sucks," He mutters.

I laugh. "We aren't heroes, just good people."

I shift onto my side, using my bicep as support for my head. He scoots closer and I rest my hand on his hip, pulling his waist into mine. His knee slips between my two, the corner of his lips turning up. I reach forward, pressing the tip of my nose to his. He softly chuckles, squeezing his eyes shut as he rubs it.

"You're nose is cold," He laughs. I reach up and touch it.

"No, it's not. That's because you're just hot," I reply. He rolls his eyes, smiling. I stretch forward, pushing his hair behind his ear. We silently stare at each other for a long beat, my eyes darting between his two baby blues.

"You're so beautiful," I whisper, rubbing my thumb along his cheekbone.

He smirks, closing his eyes. I slowly trace across his eyebrow, down the bridge of his nose and along his Cupid's bow, my eyes following along. He takes my fingertip between his teeth, giving me a flirtatious smirk. His eyes lock onto my lips and he bites his bottom, letting it slowly roll back into place. I swear he doesn't have a clue how much that drives me crazy.

Qrow licks his lips, pushing my whole hand away as he leans forward, our lips pressing together. I snake my hand under his shirt and around the curve of his ribs, pulling him closer into me. The both of his hands wind up in my hair, gripping at the roots. I reach behind his head and pull the elastic loose, letting his hair fall down and into his face.

"Oh come on," He giggles, pulling away and sitting up to fix it.

"No," I whine, pulling him back down by his arm. He groans as I wrap my arms around his shoulders, nestling my face in his neck.

"You're lips are chapped," He tells me. "It means you're dehydrated."

"I don't care," I snap, pushing him back down onto the blanket. I wince again, and this time he sees.

"Are you hurting?" He asks in a concerned voice. I shake my head. "No, I'm fine-"

"But you're not," He says sternly. "Tripp, I almost lost you," his voice softens and he gives me another kiss. "It would tear me down faster than anything to see you fall apart because of one simple thing."

And the force of those words knocked the air right from my lungs and all I could manage to do was just stare at him with wide eyes.

"Okay," I croak. Qrow sits back up, looking over to his SUV. "I have a bottle of water left over from work in my car, and you're going to drink the whole thing," He tells me. "and it is definitely still cold, so there's no excuses."

I groan. "Okay, but you have to make it up to me," I sneer. He leans over me, arching an eyebrow. "And what would that favour be?"

His bright white teeth appear into an adorably stunning smile and I reach up, touching his lips. "Oh, you already know how my deals go," I laugh.

"Well I'm already staying, Doofus," He says in a animated voice. I growl, rolling back onto my back to relieve the pain in my side. "Well come up with something because my brain still doesn't work."

He tosses his head back laughing. "Is that so?" He chuckles. I nod, biting back a smile.

"Yes, very so it is," I say.

"If I can correctly recall any of my useful school education, I am pretty sure you need your brain to talk, so it's not entirely out of service," he teases. I make a tsk sound.

"Right, just my deep thinking is still sleeping," I tell him seriously. He leans back down again, laughing through sealed lips as they press to mine again. Suddenly, a thought pops up in the back of my head and I pull away from him, pulling his hips in closer.

"Qrow?" I start, and he hums in response. I suddenly don't want to ask him about it anymore. After another beat Qrow turns to me, giving me a look. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I assure him. "Just wondering... What's your middle name?" I ask softly. He turns to me, an unreadable look on his face.

"Declan," He finally says s I reach out to touch his lips. I smile at his response. I recite it in my head over and over, nodding slowly.

"I like that," I whisper. Qrow Declan Hendricks.

"What's yours?" I ask, and I completely remember I have one. I haven't told anyone ever. I hated it too.

"Sidell," I grumble, making a face at it. He laughs, sitting up on his elbow. "What? That's adorable."

"It makes me sound like a Barbie doll," I argue. "Sidell isn't even a real name, it's a surname."

"Well I adore it," Qrow smirks.

"I hate it. My dad picked it out," I say quietly.

"Well, knowing first-hand how much of a dick he was," Qrow snickers. "it seems like he at least knew how to name a child."