Chapter Text
In the end, it was easy as breathing, coming together.
There were no uncomfortable talks involved, no tearful confessions, no awkward dancing around each other. In the end, it was just this: one day they wondered what it would be like, and the next they didn’t have to.
It went from quick glances when the other was turned away, to drawing their attention; from reining in the impulse to reach out and touch, to holding hands while everyone pretended not to look; from having to face their nightmares alone, to whispers of I’m here and I’m not leaving and we protect each other now.
It was funny; she’d thought love was this tremendous burden, this violent affair that would take and take from her until there was nothing left, consume her to keep itself alive. No one had ever told her love was supposed to be simple, that it felt so much like laughter - the kind she didn’t want to hold in.
She did try, most of the time. She didn’t look at Yang more than strictly necessary - or so she hoped - and kept their significant interactions private. But Yang called to her - even when she wasn’t looking, even when they weren’t in the same room. Blake’s affection for her poured and poured out of her and she still had so much left that she thought it would kill her if she didn’t let it out.
She understood it was far too early to ask for anything more - not the right time, not the right place. They were still on the airship, nearing the middle of the night, and most of them were already either sprawled out on the floor, had their heads propped up against a wall, or had tucked themselves into a corner, trying to sleep while they waited for permission to land. But Ruby and Nora were still awake, the two of them packing more energy than their small bodies could contain, and Oscar was drifting in and out of sleep, startling at the slightest noises, which didn’t give Blake and Yang much leeway to talk things through, or… do anything, really.
Blake had her head buried in Yang’s shoulder, all her senses focused on the patterns Yang was drawing on her bare back, away from prying eyes.
Are you cold? , Yang had asked a few minutes before, instantly stopping what she was doing to shrug off her jacket - but Blake had stopped her, desperation clawing her way up her throat. It was laughable, really; she could never be cold in Yang’s arms, and not just because Yang always burned under the surface, but because her touch somehow managed to set every single one of Blake’s nerves on fire.
Yang had then recognized Blake’s shivering for what it was, and hadn’t stopped again, just taking the time to huff a laugh into Blake’s hair every now and then.
The simple motion of Yang’s fingers on her skin, the feeling of safety that came from being wrapped up in someone else, was finally, finally lulling her to sleep - and she fought it off.
She didn’t want to close her eyes and see flashes of red. She didn’t want to remember the blood.
So she lifted her head just enough to look at the girl next to her.
Yang had her eyes closed, her breathing so relaxed that, hadn’t it been for her hand still moving, Blake would’ve thought she was asleep. A slight blush tinged her cheeks despite the cold, and something about her ruffled hair made Blake’s heart race. She looked so young, so small. Yang acted so strong all the time that it made people forget how vulnerable she actually was. Sometimes she herself forgot she wasn’t the only one to have lived through that nightmare.
She scrambled her brain for what to do. Yang didn’t look particularly upset or anything - there was even a soft smile gracing her lips - but she felt bad being the only one on the receiving end of the other’s affection. Perhaps Yang took as much pleasure in offering comfort as Blake did taking it, and knowing Yang and how she put everyone else before herself, it wasn’t hard to believe. But it wasn’t enough for Blake.
It was that time of night when blood rushed with every breath, when every thought felt like teeth and everyone was laid bare, stripped to the bone. And under the Atlas lights, Yang looked like every one of her dreams.
She shifted just a little in Yang’s arms to brush her fingers over her other shoulder. She was burning there, too, of course. Blake was regretting stopping her from taking off her jacket. She’d have begged to be let in, to be part of that fire.
The movement, of course, alerted Yang, who opened her eyes and met Blake’s. And Yang must have seen it, how much Blake adored her, how much Blake wanted her right then, because she couldn’t not - but Blake could say the same for her. The way Yang looked at her wasn’t new, exactly - Yang had always looked at her like she was worth more than she knew - but it was always concealed under a pretense of friendliness and general concern for her well-being. She had no reason to hold back now, and it showed. It made Blake ache.
Yang broke into an incredibly dopey grin, sleep already catching on to her. “Hey. What-”
Blake shushed her, tilting her head towards the others. Oscar had finally gone back to sleep after some time of tossing and turning, and Ruby and Nora had gotten tired of walking around and were now playing videogames on their scrolls, looking very much like they were going to crash in the middle of a match. She heard Qrow grunting somewhere in the distance.
It had been a long week, and an even longer year, and all she wanted, all she needed, was to bury her face in Yang’s neck and cry a little about it. She wanted to tell her about Menagerie, about how she’d spend her days, about how much she’d thought of her and wished she’d never had to leave. She wanted to tell her that she’d never known what she was looking for, not really, until she’d come along and given it all to her. That she was beautiful, and looking at her made all the monsters in her head disappear, and that she wanted to look at her all night.
Kiss me , she wanted to scream. Wash his taste off my lips. Wipe his fingerprints off my body. Touch me and heal me.
But they weren’t alone, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. So the hand on Yang’s shoulder drifted down her robot arm - she swore Yang shivered at that, though she couldn’t reasonably feel it - and picked up her hand, laying it over her own waist. She gripped it tight, begging Yang to understand, not to let her go. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring - what was waiting for them in Atlas, how people would react to her being a Faunus, if they would even be granted safe passage at all or thrown in jail immediately - but she needed tonight.
Yang’s lips brushed her forehead, a quick feeling of warmth sparking in her chest and lulling her into oblivion.
And they slept.
Landing on a stolen airship in what was expected to soon turn into a war zone was a long and strenuous process that took all of Qrow’s patience, all of Weiss’s diplomacy in dealing with the Atlas officials, and all of the favors her sister Winter pulled to free them from the authorities and find them somewhere to stay while they waited for Ironwood to show up. As an official thanks from the general, for all they’d done for Remnant, and Winter herself, for bringing her sister back home safe, she also gave Weiss a credit card issued by the military for clothes, food and emergencies while they stayed in Atlas, particularly emphasizing the importance of formalwear.
That was when they’d found out that, at times like these, the Atlas government was known to hold official balls for two primary reasons: as a distraction from threats lurking in the background - such as a full-out war against Salem - to avoid high society tearing itself apart into a panic, and to force said threats out of hiding. Word on the street was Arthur Watts was back in town and would no doubt be attending, either to forge connections with the most influential people of the kingdom or to assist someone else in ruining the party.
Their involvement at the ball would then double as a nice, fun event to socialize and recharge, and also as a further line of defense in case anything were to happen, because of course they couldn’t just have nice things, but they weren’t going to complain.
Not all of them, at least. The moment Blake had heard the word “ball” she’d started thinking of an excuse to get out of it. If it was a drain on her energy in normal circumstances, with perfectly normal and accepting people, she could only imagine what a mess it would be, spending an entire night either with Atlas society staring at her ears and making spiteful comments behind her back or hiding herself under a bow again, constantly worrying about it coming off.
Her hand slid into Yang’s, like it always seemed to now, as their group started to walk away. Yang squeezed it as soon as she felt it in her grasp, without even needing to look at her, and it was the casualness, more than anything, that made Blake’s heart quiver. This had been a thing for only a day, and it was already commonplace - nothing out of the ordinary to see, nothing to fawn over. She wondered why, then, that simple gesture had nearly had her in tears.
Nora, on the other hand, was over the moon with the idea of having some free time to shop for a ball and was already sprinting forward, dragging Jaune and Ren with her and leaving team RWBY behind.
“It’s a proper ball,” Winter raised her voice to make herself heard over the sound of JNR scuffling about, although Blake suspected they were already out of hearing range, “meaning, you should dress as nice as you can. I’m sure my sister will be happy to bring you up to date on Atlas fashion, so you don’t draw too much attention to yourselves. And please, for your sake, pair up. You’ll be introduced two at a time, as is custom, rather than barrel down the staircase together like a pack of wild wolves.”
“Seems a little dramatic, but sure. We’ll bring dates,” Yang piped up. Blake couldn’t look at her.
Winter, however, frowned when she zeroed in on her damaged arm - a change which, incredibly, meant she hadn’t been frowning before. “Yang, Maria’s leaving in a few minutes to get her eyes checked up. Don’t you want us to take a look at that?”
“I mean, yeah,” Yang shrugged, “that would be great. Blake, will you-”
“Just you,” Winter specified, seeming just the slightest bit troubled. “Sorry, Yang, but Atlas can be rough. A Faunus would cause too big of a commotion, and I’d much rather you be in and out.”
Ah, there it was. There it started.
Ruby glanced worriedly between them, Yang who’d suddenly seized up and Blake who couldn’t help her ears dropping in shame. Weiss was hard staring at her sister (or at least, as close to it as she could get, seeing how much she respected Winter - and Blake got it, really, that Winter was already risking a lot by having them there, though something unpleasant still uncurled in the pit of her stomach).
When seconds passed and Yang still hadn’t made any move to leave, Ruby touched her shoulder comfortingly. “C’mon, sis, you can’t let that arm freeze or get rusted.”
“Yeah, Yang,” Blake teased, hoping Yang would take the hint, “you’re not gonna die if we’re apart for a couple hours.”
Yang scoffed. “No, I am. You speak for yourself. I’m actually gonna die.”
She too was just lightening the mood, meaning she’d caught on to what they were asking her to do. But she was looking at Blake, making sure she would be okay, and her worry was still very much real and tangible. And there was something else there - not pity , exactly, but the kind of understanding that only comes from experience, seeing things with one’s own eyes. And the mere implication that someone like Blake would draw unwanted attention was so, so far from being the worst thing that could happen to her.
“You’ll be fine. Besides,” Blake intervened when she saw Yang still hesitating, “I need to fix my weapon first. Ruby can come with me,” - Ruby squealed at the word “weapon” being followed by her own name - “and you can go with Maria, and we’ll just meet up at the mall or… something.”
She wasn’t used to that softness in Yang’s eyes, not when it was so out in the open. It almost hurt to watch. “Okay. Hurry back.”
The way Yang was holding her hand between them made her think she would bring it up to cup her cheek, but she just squeezed it one last time before leaving it entirely when Weiss coughed abruptly. The pressure in Blake’s stomach just tightened.
“Weiss,” Winter called finally, gently, noticing her sister teetering on the edges, packing more nervous energy than anyone was meant to hold, being back home and in close proximity to her father messing with her head, “let me talk to you for a bit.”
With the subtlest skip to her steps, Weiss happily obliged.
Shopping in Atlas turned out to be torture. Not just because of the unhappy stares they received from anyone who identified them as outsiders, not just for the ridiculousness of Atlas fashion - despite Weiss’s best efforts to paint it in a positive light, or at the very least find decent matches that fit everyone’s style - but because Nora. Wouldn’t. Stop. Screaming.
Ren had later awkwardly explained to them that, since they were kids, the girl had never owned or had a chance to buy such nice clothes for herself, and that she fully intended to make up for lost time by flying through the aisles of Atlas clothing shops, excitedly try on anything that caught her eye like a magpie when faced with shiny things, and yell her approval every time she found a good fit.
No one had the heart to tell her they couldn’t take advantage of the Atlas military’s generosity, and that she’d only be able to choose two outfits - one to wear every day, and one for the ball. Telling her would also mean having to watch her as she painstakingly narrowed down her choices again, and most of them were looking forward to just going home, already done with their purchases.
Not Blake, though. Sprawled out on a couch next to Ruby and Jaune, her upgraded weapon standing upright in its sheath against the wall, she was still frantically searching all around for something to cover her ears with that wouldn’t make her look like a snotty aristocrat. Ruby was patiently trying to pull a beanie down over her cat ears, but it just wouldn’t budge; it seemed they could only find regular, unassuming clothing in kid size. Not for the first time, Blake missed her ribbons, with all of their awful implications.
Ruby somehow managed to cover both cat ears and pulled away to look at her work, only for the beanie to shoot up and out when Blake’s ears twitched. “Nope,” she deliberated, popping the “p”. “It’s okay, Blake. How about a headband? I think I saw a few down there…”
Blake sighed, resigning herself to standing up again. Nora, wanting to be helpful, picked out something that looked a lot like a tiara from the top of her pile and handed it to her. “Doesn’t match my hair color,” Nora said, by way of explanation.
“It doesn’t match your anything ,” Ren mumbled, taking more of the stuff she’d discarded to bring it back where she’d taken it. “Nora, how are you even going to carry everything?”
Nora gasped. “Are you judging my strength ?”
“I’m judging its practicality.”
“Ren, we’re in Atlas.” Nora sounded more and more offended by the second. “There’s no such thing as practical.”
Blake burst out laughing, a choked, unexpected sound, Jaune following right in tow. Ruby was now trying to pull the cursed beanie over her own head.
Ren shushed them all, hinting that Weiss was nearby. Blake didn’t think she would’ve minded them slamming Atlas, exactly, but better be safe than sorry after all, especially when it came to Weiss. Then, back to Nora: “If you can’t narrow it down to two outfits, I’m doing it for you.”
“Oh?” Nora seemed way too into the idea. “Please do, Ren. I’m curious as to what you’d want me to wear.”
Ruby dropped the beanie, her hands going up to her ears instead, blushing like crazy. “Guys, please!”
Everyone looked at Ren, expecting the same kind of blush to be visible on his face. Instead, Ren kept his cool like he had to deal with this everyday - and he probably did, now that he and Nora were officially a couple - and just grabbed a random skirt, a random sweater, and a scarf, none of it matching at all. Nora was horrified. “There. You’re going out like a clown. I hope you’re a happy.”
As Nora and Ren kept bickering, sneaking little touches here and there - Nora tackling him to get the clothes that were now being held out of her reach, him gently shoving her away, her grasping onto his arm and giggling in his ear - Blake felt a pang of longing. She didn’t know much about their past, but she knew those two deserved to be happy. She also knew Nora had been in love with him all her life, and she tried to imagine that - the fear of loving someone without knowing if they loved you back, the need to be with them at all times, the pain. And then the sudden release.
A flash of gold caught her eyes and she didn’t have to imagine anymore.
She didn’t know when Yang had come back, but it couldn’t have been long, because she was still picking her new clothes. Correction: Weiss was picking them for her, pushing the most hideous articles of clothing she could find into Yang’s arms, and Yang was trying to find the nicest words possible to blow her off. Served her right for calling Weiss for help instead of her, Blake guessed, but she took pity on her. She’d missed her. Had it really only been a couple hours?
If anyone from their group noticed her leaving, they didn’t say anything. She was, after all, looking for headwear, only she was going in the opposite direction, towards the sun rising on the other side of the shop.
Yang hadn’t seen her yet, too busy talking Weiss’s ears off about how much she did not get her style, but Weiss had. And she gracefully twirled around, flashed her a quick smirk, and brushed Yang’s protests off with “You know, just try that on before complaining,” before pushing her into the closest dressing room and motioning for Blake to come closer.
When she did as she was asked, Weiss just huffed “Finally,” and started walking back toward the rest of the group. “She’s all yours. I give up. You find her something nice to wear.”
“Weiss, what-” Blake began, but Weiss just walked right past her, satisfaction etched in every line of her face. She couldn’t even try to pick it apart, because a voice came right away from the dressing room.
“Weiss? Can I get a hand here? Like, a human hand.”
Blake froze on the spot. She debated running - surely the promise she’d made didn’t account for this . She also thought of calling Weiss back, but she was already gone and nowhere to be seen. It was her mom leaving her at the register to collect the last of her groceries all over again, only a thousand times worse, because Weiss hadn’t left her with a grumpy shopkeeper but rather with the girl she loved, who was changing inside a dressing room and, by the sounds of it, really needed her help.
After some stumbling, Yang pushed the curtain aside, and Blake’s heart rate spiked. “Weiss, where did you g- oh.” Now she’d seen her.
Blake felt like she should blush - Yang was eating her up like she hadn’t seen her in years, despite her only having changed her clothes - but it made her feel good, rather than self-conscious. She was looking at Yang in much the same way, for no reason other than the jacket she was trying on hung off her arm, showing off her bare shoulder, and Blake had never wanted anyone more in her entire life.
“Hey,” Blake breathed, rather than spoke. She hadn’t known her voice could sound so soft.
Yang took a little longer to reply, still observing Blake’s new attire. She was wearing a white, gold-lined skirt over black thigh highs and a black sweater on top of that, lapels of a white camisole peeking out. Nothing too out of the ordinary for her, but you wouldn’t know it by the way Yang looked at her.
“Hi. Um, could you…” She raised her right arm, illustrating the problem: the jacket had gotten caught in one of the crevices between metal plates and risked tearing. “My arm’s stuck.”
Look her in the eyes, you dunce, Weiss’s voice was telling her in her head, forcing her to turn her gaze away from the exposed skin.
She stepped forward, her hand casually sliding down Yang’s shoulder - she’d never noticed those tiny freckles, that beauty spot - to where her jacket was caught, gently pulling at the cloth while Yang pretended not to shiver.
Would Yang really have done this with Weiss, if she’d been around? Would she have let Weiss touch her like that? Not that she was jealous. She had no reason to be, not when Yang held a silent prayer for her in her eyes. Not when Blake was so close to answering it, right there in the middle of the mall.
“Thanks,” Yang murmured. “It’s like a new pair of shoes, you know - you have to break it in before it can feel like part of yourself and not, like, a useless, hanging limb.”
She motioned for Yang to turn around so she could get the jacket unstuck from the back, too. It was definitely her style, brown with a fur lining, but tight enough to hug her figure and long enough to reach her knees, making it look more like a dress. A black belt ran all around it, still loose.
That was good. She couldn’t look at Yang like this. She could get the job done and collect herself. Blake just hadn’t expected her to throw her hair over her other shoulder so that the right side of her neck and collarbone was also completely visible. She hadn’t known the true nature of her feelings for Yang for very long. She was utterly unequipped to deal with this.
Weiss’s voice didn’t come to her aid this time - Adam did. She’s in this situation because of you. Look at her, she can barely dress herself without help - and you’re thinking about getting her under you?
She could feel his disgust, his disappointment. But she wasn’t going to give him of all people the moral high ground, not when he had been the one to hurt Yang in the first place. Not when he’d blamed Blake for all his misgivings and guilted her into staying with him before she was old enough to know what she wanted, needed, deserved.
She remembered how hard he’d tried to suppress the part of her that felt for anyone but him, shamed her with offhand comments and silent treatments and outbursts of rage. Every spark of attraction on Blake’s part was snuffed out, downplayed, punished before it had a chance to be recognized.
But Yang stood in front of her now, and Adam’s hold on her was slackening every day, and she wouldn’t let him touch Yang and what they had - not again. Now when she looked at the arm Yang had lost trying to protect her, she didn’t cower in fear for Yang’s safety, didn’t blame herself for allowing Yang to love her. She looked at it and thought, I will share your burdens. I will share my heart. I’m going to take care of you like no one else has. Please, don’t ever doubt that I will.
She eventually freed the jacket from where it’d gotten caught, but before she could lay it back over Yang's arm she reached down and pressed a kiss to her skin, right where her shoulder met her neck.
Yang’s breath hitched, but by the time she’d tilted her head to the side to give her more access Blake was already back to hovering over her, looking at her expectantly.
“Go to the ball with me,” she murmured.
When Yang turned around, her eyes were wide, soft and uncomprehending. “Was I going to go with someone else?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t want to risk it.” Her shoulders shook as she shrugged, betraying her nervousness. This didn’t feel like nothing, like something both of them could just take for granted. It felt like the first step towards something new. “Just know, if you’re undecided, that I’ll do a better job than Weiss helping you pick what to wear.”
Yang burst out laughing. “Well, I think you’re the only one who’s managed to find Atlas clothes to actually look good in, so I’ll have to take you up on that. But then again, you looking stunning in everything might have something to do with that.”
Blake’s heart fluttered, because Yang made her so terribly weak with so little and she was just going to have to deal with it for a long, long time. “Well, I’m not done yet. I still have to find something to cover my head with.”
Yang frowned and zoned in on her downcast ears, suddenly seeing the problem. It looked like she’d forgotten it was even a problem in the first place. Blake had never had that luxury, but she’d eventually found the strength to get rid of her ribbons anyway and accept herself for what, and who, she was. She hated having to go back on her progress now.
Yang seemed to follow her train of thought and grabbed one of her hands. “Hey, none of that. You’ve already been so brave, Blake - braver than any of us could be. But what’s more important now is that you’re safe. Look…” She was struck by a sudden thought, and reached down to her knee, untangling her purple bandana and holding it up for her. “You must know all the stories, right? About knights and the dangers they faced for their damsels? Ruby used to love those, too.”
Blake couldn’t understand what she was getting at. “Yes?”
“Well, before leaving for quests, the damsels left their knights something to remember them by.” Yang was beaming at this point. “Consider this my favor.”
Blake eyed the bandana again. It could probably fit around her head, tie down her ears or bind them in a bow. Still… “What?”
“Hey, you’re facing great peril. For yourself, but also for me - because I need you to be safe. I’m gonna die if we’re apart for more than a couple hours, remember?”
“Oh, gods,” Blake laughed. “I think you’ve done just fine.”
“Ask Maria. She couldn’t stand me being that grumpy. You wanna know how many times she’s hit me with that staff of hers?”
“Mmh, that explains it,” she said, noticing the slightest bump on the side of her head. Without thinking, she reached out to brush some of Yang’s hair aside and take a better look at it. Then she froze, not because of anything Yang did, but because she just stood there, unworried, unmoving. Yang never let anyone touch her hair. Blake felt like she was threading gold in her hands, like she was holding Yang’s heart.
“Thank you,” she whispered. For the bandana, for helping her with Adam, for trusting her blindly and recklessly even when she’d done nothing to deserve it. “Go to the ball with me.”
She said it again, because in that moment, it was the closest thing to I love you.
Yang just smiled, closing her eyes against the feeling of Blake brushing her hair. “Okay,” she said, and Blake felt it like I love you too.
“You guys are mean ,” Jaune groaned, back on the couch, having had an all around bad day. Ren and Nora telling him he couldn’t be their date was the final nail in the coffin. “Why can’t I just show up with the both of you?”
“Because it’s not like the ball we had at Beacon, Jaune,” Ren explained for what felt like the tenth time. “These people are all about formality and propriety. Three people show up at once, you make things weird; all eyes are on us for the rest of the night and our incognito mission is blown up.”
“Plus, Ren and I still haven’t had a chance to go on a real date. We love you and we’d die for you, Jaune, but this is something we have to do on our own, you know-”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Jaune threw his head back against the headrest. This was him begging his parents not to leave him with seven sisters to go on their date/second honeymoon/anniversary dinner all over again. “You know what else will be weird? If I show up alone. Because that’s exactly what’s gonna happen when Weiss turns me down.”
He avoided thinking of Pyrrha. Her name and smile and last (first) kiss were still a festering wound under his skin that he didn’t let himself dwell on too much, especially at times like these. But it stung all the same.
“Why Weiss?” Nora asked. “Have you tried asking Ruby?”
“She’s going with Oscar. She’s offered, actually. Apparently, Oscar could use all the encouragement he can get, being so new to all of this.” That did kind of make him feel better. He wouldn’t be the only one to make a fool of himself, at least.
Ren then made a suggestion so absurd, so outrageous, that Nora decided she had to check if he wasn't feeling unwell. “What about Blake?”
Jaune couldn’t help it. Really, he couldn’t. As Nora redirected Ren’s gaze towards a scene not too far away in lieu of an answer, Jaune broke into loud fits of laughter that drew the attention of everyone in the vicinity.
But not Blake and Yang. Jaune was sure people looked at each other like that all the time, in the privacy of their own homes or when caught up in intimacy, but he’d never seen that amount of longing displayed in public. It was filling the air, twisting his insides - Blake’s fingers through Yang’s hair, Yang’s hand on Blake’s hand.
“I mean,” Nora piped up, trying to be supportive, “at least we know she likes blondes.”
Jaune resolved to go and ask Weiss that same day.