Work Text:
Gods, Blake doesn't know how, but she's managed to make things even worse between herself and Yang.
She knew that it would take time—possibly never even—to reconcile with Yang. That recovery isn't linear, and that the road towards it is full of holes and obstacles.
But somehow, Blake can fumble all of that and make things even worse.
"Mission accomplished."
The sarcasm in Yang’s voice was suffocating. Yang was never malicious—would never do something to intentionally hurt someone—but it still stung all the same.
Trying to sleep on the hardwood floors of cadavers in the middle of a snowstorm was already brutal enough. But being stuck in the same room with your partner that you've insulted still somehow feels worse.
The only sounds are the howling wind outside—snow and ice battering the windows—and the crackling fire. The soft sounds of everyone sleeping is easily drowned out, even with her superior hearing.
So when someone sits up and walks over to the window, Blake sees the familiar mane of blonde hair and cringes inside.
Leaning against the windowsill and staring out into the miserable cold is Yang, whose mood was definitely sour.
A large part of her brain tells her to pretend to stay asleep and just leave Yang alone. A smaller but louder part tells her to at least check if she's okay. If Yang brushes her off, so be it. But she should at least try.
Yang flinches upon seeing Blake come into her peripheral but doesn't acknowledge her until Blake's leaning against the windowsill beside her—only casting her a sidelong glance before staring out again.
Being with Yang in the shed was awkward but staring out this window was dreadful. Blake wants to forget this stupid endeavor and just go back to bed—apologize to Yang for not respecting her space and to just forget this.
Blake opens her mouth to apologize and—
"Can't sleep either?" Yang asks.
Blake is so unprepared to hear Yang speak that she just ends up staring at her dumbly. Yang glances back at her and Blake realizes she's waited a beat too long to respond.
"Uh, yeah. Didn't really sleep at all, honestly."
"Sleeping around corpses will do that," Yang trails off and continues staring ahead.
Okay, progress! Yang isn't telling her off or leaving so she's not too mad from before. But Blake can only put her foot in her mouth so many times in one day.
Blake leans more forward and feels her hand brush against Yang's. Startled, Blake whisks her hand away as if burnt.
"Sorry," Blake says anxiously.
Yang's silence is deafening—somehow louder than the devastating storm and raging fire.
Well, this is turning into a disaster. Blake is ready to just turn around and try and get some sleep when she feels a warm hand clasp hers.
Blake stills now, afraid of what Yang will do next. It definitely wasn't an accident—her calloused, warm hands haven't moved since covering hers and Yang still stares ahead as if she didn't just give Blake a heart attack.
Slowly—but surely—Yang fingers intertwine with hers and the two stand there, leaning against a freezing windowsill and wondering what this means for them.
Blake opens her mouth but closes it—a couple of times actually—unsure of what to say. Finally, willing up her courage, Blake fully turns towards Yang and sees a harsh site.
Yang's bangs cover her eyes but Blake can still see them hidden away. She can see how lifeless they look and she knows she should say something—anything at this point.
But old habits die hard, so Blake turns away and says nothing.