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Blake watches as Yang carefully detaches her prosthetic, and she realises that she’s never seen her partner take it off before. Since they reunited they’ve been falling from one crazy situation into another, and since sleep seems to be the only time Yang doesn’t wear it Blake’s simply never happened to be there for this until now.
Either way, she averts her eyes. It feels too intimate, somehow, to stare while Yang removes a part of herself. A part that Blake helped to take from her in the first place. But then Yang winces, and Blake’s gaze snaps back to her with concern.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s nothing. Don’t worry.”
Blake considers just directly calling out the obvious lie, but that probably wouldn’t help, so she opts for a different approach instead. “Does it hurt?”
Yang shrugs a little too casually, and it takes Blake a moment to grow accustomed to seeing empty space where the yellow and black metal was just moments ago.
“A little, I guess. But I’ve got used to it by now.”
The words settle like a leaden weight in Blake’s stomach, and she can’t figure out how to respond right away. Is this how Yang always deals with pain? She just gets used to it? Blake understands that her partner’s Semblance makes her more resilient than most, but the thought of how much hurt Yang must be trying to shove down day after day has her heart cracking in her chest.
She remembers the first time Yang explained her Semblance to her, soon after they became partners at Beacon. Do you feel it? Blake remembers asking. Yeah, was Yang’s answer, nonchalant and dismissive like it wasn’t her own wellbeing she was talking about.
She might not be able to stop Yang from feeling every blow she takes in battle, but she can help with this.
“Can I try something?”
Understandably, Yang looks confused and a little uncertain, but she nods hesitantly, and Blake shifts over to kneel behind her on the bed.
“Okay so, just try to relax, and tell me if it hurts or if you just want me to stop.”
“Sure, but wha—”
Yang trails off as Blake’s hands come to rest on her shoulders, thumbs pressing firmly but not forcefully into the tight knots of muscle at the top of Yang’s spine, rubbing slow circles designed to unwind the tension. Her partner lets out a gasp, but leans back slightly into the contact, so Blake takes it as an invitation to keep going.
She moves down, fingers splaying over Yang’s shoulder blades. She can feel the warmth of her partner’s skin even through the t-shirt, Yang’s body heat as abundant as ever, but she knows this position will be awkward if she’s going to continue, so she withdraws her hands after only a moment.
“You’re going to have to take your shirt off and lie down if you want me to do more,” she says, fully expecting Yang to turn her down at this point. Things still aren’t completely okay between them, and she’s probably the last person her partner wants giving her a massage right now.
But Yang pulls her shirt over her head and lies down on her front, just like Blake asked, and Blake’s throat suddenly feels much drier than it did a few seconds ago. She wasn’t anticipating actually being taken up on the offer, but she’s more than happy to follow through on it if that’s what Yang wants.
So she straddles Yang’s waist, making sure to keep her weight entirely off her partner, and carefully brushes the beautiful golden waves of Yang’s hair to the side, exposing the toned, powerful muscles of her back. She lays her hands lightly on either side of Yang’s spine, testing the waters, and she swallows hard when she feels a shiver run through her partner’s body at the touch.
She presses down with her palms, digging into the stress hidden just beneath the surface and coaxing it out with patient pressure. Yang melts under her, eyes closed, breathing slow and even as she sinks into the mattress, and Blake feels a stab of pride at the peaceful expression on her partner’s face, proof that this is having the effect she intended.
It also makes her heart ache, though, to know that seeing Yang’s features so unburdened by worry or suffering is such a rare occurrence now. Still, at least she can give her this one moment where she doesn’t have to let anything trouble her. Where she can forget about the mission and the fate of the world and just let Blake take care of her.
She makes her way up, the heels of her hands pushing just a little harder between Yang’s shoulder blades, and her partner makes a noise can only be described as a moan. It’s a sound of relief, not of pleasure as such, but Blake’s insides clench just the same, and she has to mentally shake herself to keep her thoughts from wandering inappropriately.
Of course, they do anyway, despite her best intentions. Her mind is flooded by images of her hands on Yang’s back in different circumstances, nails marking smooth skin as she cries out in— she forces the fantasy out of her mind. There’s no place for it at the moment, and she needs to focus on being what Yang needs her to be right here and now.
So she takes a deep breath and redirects her attention where it’s most needed, sliding both hands to Yang’s right shoulder, methodically working every ounce of soreness from her partner’s aching muscles. She closes her eyes, concentrating, grounding herself, and she can distantly feel the echo of Yang’s aura.
It feels thinner, weaker somehow, around what remains of her arm, and Blake lets just a fraction of her own spill into it, patching up the holes so that her partner’s natural strength can do the rest. She runs her palms slowly over Yang’s biceps, over the scar tissue where Adam’s blade cut through skin and bone and the connection between them, touching her with as much tenderness as she’s physically capable of, and it draws a shuddering sigh from Yang’s chest.
When she’s done, she sits back, feeling the loss of Yang’s aura like a slight nagging emptiness inside her. She briefly wonders if Yang has fallen asleep, but then her partner rolls over underneath her, and Blake looks away in a rush, trying to forget that she just got a glimpse of Yang’s breasts. She hurriedly scrambles off of her, and Yang is quick to grab her shirt and pull it back on before things get any more uncomfortable.
She feels a hand on her arm, and she looks up at Yang, safe in the knowledge that her partner will be mostly dressed this time. She’s not sure what she expects, but Yang simply pulls her into a loose, gentle hug, holding her close for several long seconds before letting her go.
“Thank you. I mean it, I— I needed that.”
“I know.” Blake debates whether to say more, and in the end she finds that the words spill out almost of their own accord. “I missed you, Yang. I missed you so much. And— And I get if you don’t want me to be, but I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you now.”
At first Yang’s expression closes off, becomes harder, colder, but then it breaks— her eyes fill with tears and her bottom lip starts to tremble. “Do you promise?”
She sounds so scared, vulnerable, and this time it’s Blake who takes Yang in her arms, pulling her into her lap and rocking her gently as her partner’s tears soak the fabric of her robe. “I promise, sweetheart. I promise.”
“Okay,” Yang mumbles into her neck, warm breath tickling Blake’s skin. “Okay. I believe you.”
Blake feels relief settle in every fibre of her body. She hasn’t lost this— hasn’t lost Yang. She holds her a little more tightly, and Yang’s arm circles her waist in response, both of them content just to be close like this again after so long apart.
“I missed you too.” Yang’s quiet murmur is what breaks the silence, and Blake smiles, pressing her lips to her partner’s temple. They’ll never have to miss each other again— she’ll make sure of that.