a/n: Obligatory warning of impending song - Jessie's Girl, by Rick Springfield.
Her fingers mash the keys with grace, never missing a beat she didn't mean to as a light, jazzy tune rang out into the apartment.
It was still early morning, half the curtains pulled over the paned window at the behest of her more-than-likely hungover roommate. Said roommate was in the other room sleeping, but somehow she insisted that the morning sun was just so pervasive, she could see the light through the walls, all the way into the other room. Nevertheless, a bit of the living room was bathed in a pure light, unsettled and undisturbed except for that of g-sharps and f-naturals.
The heel of her foot bounces against the grained wood, from the top of the surface opposite of what probably looks like an indented ceiling from the tenant below her, usually from all the banging of broomsticks she's heard that always tell her to quiet down.
Fortunately, that tenant was out for the day, and Blake could play the piano all she wanted without a care in the world, often forgetting about time itself.
That was how she loved to play. With fervor, zeal, and with reckless abandon.
Not a thing in the entire world... thrilled her any more than that.
The shadows receded slowly across the apartment, the passage of time nary a step away from Blake's thoughts as she poured into her playing; nothing too meticulous, just a collection of melodies she thought sounded right for a Friday morning.
Ah, but all good things must come to an end. Her feline ears twitched back, noting the oncoming footsteps of her roommate, lopsided and—oh, my. There was a visitor. She swiveled in her seat to face the bedroom door, crossing her arms and already wearing a knowing smirk.
Sure enough, the blonde finally made her appearance, shuffling over to the kitchen counter and resting her elbows on it as she looked at the pianist with exasperation, "We get it, Piano Man, you're amazing. But seriously, Blake? It's Friday morning, and some of us normal folk like to get in a little more shut-eye."
Blake chuckled, "'Shut-eye'? Is that what they're calling it nowadays?"
The blonde threw her hands up, "What?"
Blake raised an eyebrow. She looked past the blonde and awaited the other individual—she was shy, but she's seen Blake before. No use in getting that way anymore. Eventually, a girl with long, brown hair and an equally brown pair of rabbit ears emerged from the room as well, fully-dressed and ready to go.
Blake tilted her head, "Hi Velvet."
Velvet froze for a moment, like a.. rabbit caught in headlights. "Hello, Blake.."
The blonde tapped Velvet on the shoulder, "Call you later?"
She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows once in acknowledgement at the blonde. With that, she continued her exit out the apartment, leaving not a single word more with the two women.
There was bout of silence and two longing stares at the door before the blonde finally spoke, "Well, Miss Bella-Ladykiller-donna, I appreciate you not outwardly stealing her from me and all? But, sheesh, the girl's so into you! Must be those magic fingers of yours," she mimicked piano playing in the air as she turned to the fridge, propping it open to check the contents.
"All I did—All I ever do, is say hi to her, Yang. I'm not stealing her or whatever it is you think. I don't even have time for that anyway.." Her gaze dropped for a moment but she snapped back up as she caught her words, "Not that I want her. I swear."
Yang shut the fridge and slid a carton of milk on the counter, quickly snatching a box of cereal out of a cabinet as well, "Heeey, don't worry about it. I'm just teasing, alright?" She poured a little bit of cereal into a nearby, probably clean bowl, "Velvet's great, but she's not my type. Don't think I'm hers either, to be honest."
Blake swiveled back around to the piano, tapping at a random key, "Then why do you bring her over so often?"
"We, ah.. Work well together. Blake, Blake turn this way, it doesn't—sigh—It doesn't work if you're not watching—" Blake spun around slowly, complete with eye-roll, "We work well togeth—"
"I-I think I got it, Yang. Thank you." Blake was greeted with Yang making some sort of unknown gesture with her hands. She was absolutely sure what she was doing wasn't an actual gesture, but she's not going to get into all that this morning.
"… She's like an energizer bunny, the way she keeps going and go—"
"Okay, ew, don't—I don't need details, just eat your breakfast."
"Hey, I'm just letting you know," Yang munched a bit on her cereal before continuing, "And what's all that crap about not 'having time for that'? You've been out of the game for years. Aren't you, like, going through a pretty bad dry spell right now?"
"First of all, gross. Second, I don't know, it's just not that much of a priority. I mean, it'd be nice, but.. Yang, I just want to play. You know?"
"Well, yeah, I wanna play too. Hence, the ladies…" Blake shot her a look, and Yang's spoon softly clanged against the cereal bowl, "I know, I'm joking. You've gotta let out your.. inner.. you-ness. Which is fantastic, and I love it all to pieces, but speaking of playing… Have you gotten around to any more gigs? Rent's comin' up, and Mama doesn't think her jobs can pay it off."
Blake scoffed, turning back to the keys. "I, uh. I'm working on it, okay? It's not every day that you find someone wanting to hire a pianist. Last job I had was a booking for a sixty-four year old's birthday party, and while I do enjoy Elton John, I'm not sure how many more people will ask for my services." She tapped a few more keys, resting a free elbow on the fallboard and bracing her forehead.
A few low notes rang out, quietly at first, but eventually they meshed into a familiar sounding tune.
"Jessie is a friend…~" Blake tested the waters to make sure Yang was willing to sing along with her.
A few moments of silence, aside from the continuous repeated notes being struck on the piano.
Another clang of the spoon, and Yang sang out, half mockingly at Blake, "Yeah I know, he's been a good friend of mine~; Blake, this is the dumbest song to sing right now—"
The pounding of the keys rose in volume, the tapping of a heel could be heard once more, "But lately something's changed, it ain't hard to defineee~"
Yang proceeded to put her bowl in the sink to wash for later, and she rolled her eyes while continuing to comply with the song, "Jessie's got himself a girl, and I wanna make her mine—You sure this isn't you underhandedly telling me that you—"
"AND she's watchin' him with those eyessss... And she's lovin' him with that body, I just know it!"Yang almost jumped out of her pajamas when she heard the sharp crescendo of the tune, the rhythmic thump of Blake's heel on the flooring all too familiar to the blonde.
"DUDE! You're gonna get us in trouble with the landlord again, just like last time. I'm all for creative endeavor, Blake, but shit, it's like seven in the morning!"
Blake gave her roommate a glance, "It's almost ten."
"Same damn thing!"
The pianist laughed as she finally left the pedestal, stretching her limbs, flicking her ears to and fro. "Alright, I apologize. Just got carried away again." She made her way to a leather couch that has clearly seen better days and plopped down onto it, throwing an arm over her eyes.
Yang didn't answer for a moment, checking her charging phone on the kitchen counter near the outlet. She studied the contents of a certain message in detail and plucked the charge cable out of the phone as she sauntered over to Blake, "It is fine, my dear Blake, because I may have found you a pretty good job for the time being. Probably. Definitely, maybe."
"Definitely maybe? Yang, that doesn't sound very promising. And please don't tell me you got a tip from one of your friends, because I'm questioning how legitimate these claims tend to be."
Yang hung over the back of the couch and slapped Blake on the stomach—"Ow! What the fuck?!"—"No, okay listen. I just got a message from one of my connections to that fancy shmancy super secretive illuminati nightclub thing downtown, you remember the one I told you about?"
Blake rubbed her stomach to soothe the throbbing pain, "Uh, yeah. The cabaret lounge for the wealthy? The ridiculous cabaret lounge, mind you."
"Maybe it is a little ridiculous, but my tip could pay our rent for months, dude, and you're the only one who can pull it off."
Blake rolled her eyes, "And why is that?"
Yang sighed, "Because you're a freaking awesome piano player. That's why." Yang hopped over the back of the couch and landed on Blake's thighs, much to the girl's dismay, "So you've probably heard of the super famous singer they've got performing there every Friday night, right? Like, I'm talking star-studded name flashing lights kind of famous. People from all over come to Vale to listen to her sing, apparently the chick's got the voice of an angel that's been lathered in honey or some shit, seriously, people go bonkers for her."
"… Lathered in honey, huh…"
"Anyway. The people that come to see her are loaded. And I mean seven-figure salary, dog's-got-his-own-jacuzzi, buy-a-new-car-everytime-one-gets-dirty loaded. CEOs, exorbitantly wealthy military officers, neurosurgeons, big-time realtors, lawyers—Entrepreneurs galore; the whole shebang. And these people pay top fuckin' dollar to see this girl sing. Every week, just once a night. You know how much that place makes every Friday, Blake?"
Blake sighed heavily, shaking her head. She was hearing her. Oh, was she hearing her. But did it sound like a good plan? Right now, not especially. "How much does that place make every Friday, Yang?"
Yang held up both hands, all ten fingers stretched out. She bit her lip in a smirk and lightly pounded the air four times.
Blake shot up from her spot on the couch, "Wh—Forty-thousand dollars?! How?!"
"Like I said. Everybody in the one-percent comes to that place on Friday nights. Doesn't do too bad on a regular night either. They're serving lobster with hot butter by the fishnet, Blake. These people don't play around with their money."
Blake was reeling from the information. Such an exclusive event could garner so much profit over the course of around six hours.. It was almost preposterous, but it was by no means impossible. Especially for the elite that Yang claims to visit the establishment. Forty-thousand dollars was chump change to them, that was for sure. She shook her head slightly and dragged a hand down her face, covering a smile. But of course, she had to know details. "So how exactly do I come into play here? You say people come all over for this girl.. The one that sings. Why would they come for me? Why would this make us any money?"
Yang leaned back into the couch, scrolling through her phone, "Well, they wouldn't really be coming for you. That's the thing. They'd still be—Heh, look at what I reblogged later. It's the vine of the old lady being pushed by the goat—They'd still be coming for this chick, but the thing is, she's also got money. Lots of it. And from what I hear from my dude on the inside? She's got a pianist, whom she pays a fuck ton. Not to mention a ton of fucking…"
"Focus, please. Alright, so she's got a pianist. That pianist isn't me, I hope you realize. And who exactly is your friend on the inside?"
"Let me finish, okay? So my buddy—he's.. the janitor, okay—tells me he overheard a certain.. conversation, between the pianist and the manager of the place. Tellin' him that there's something across the country that needed more attention, something about a bigger opportunity than his lounge, I don't know, he didn't really hear too much. Long story short, that pianist is probably going to up and leave the singer chick, leaving her with…?" Yang brought a hand up, waiting for Blake's response.
Blake stared at Yang for a second. She brought her hand up to, mimicking her roommate's gesture.
Yang shuffled the air in front of her, still anticipating an answer from Blake.
Blake's eyes flit from Yang's hands to her face, and she shrugged.
"For christ's sake, it's leaving her with you. You, okay? You, the only pianist in the area that has the skill to duet with this performer. Seriously? It's fool-proof."
"It's literally not fool-proof."
"But.. If it happens to be true," Yang turned to Blake with a more serious expression, "I mean, wouldn't you wanna try it? You said it yourself: You just want to play. This way, you get to play, along with an amazing singer, might I add, and we could move outta this crap-shack and into some place with a little less.." Yang looked up at the ceiling, which was cracked in certain places, along with remnants of water damage, "Charm."
Blake let her head fall back on the couch's armrest, blinking a few times at the same cracked ceiling. It was true. Blake and Yang haven't lived the most glamorous lives, and as of right now, their income relied on Blake's astounding ability to mash at a set of keys—something most people didn't seek so much anymore—and Yang's ability to pull "jobs." Even then, Yang's tendency to be reckless costed her more cash that whatever might have been stashed away at the Bellagio.
… Well, probably not that much, but there were a few dinner-less nights to be had in the Xiao Long-Belladonna household because of her occasion slip-up. Nooot to mention a few bail-outs as well, and for that, she'd have to thank her much more grounded sister, Ruby, for the extra help.
It was shady, potentially dangerous, and just a little bit unethical… but there really wasn't anything Blake could lose by looking into it. Right?
Of course! It should all end well.
Defeated, Blake let a hand hang over the couch before she carelessly threw it up in the air, "Fine, let's do it."
Yang all but fell onto Blake, trapping the other woman in a grip while Blake struggled beneath her. "Yessss! That's my girl! Oh, this is awesome, Blake, I love you!"
"O-Okay, you're a little heavy; agh, Yang!"
Yang took Blake's faced and rained a flurry of kisses all over it, save for her lips, a habit she's never managed to break in all their years of friendship. "Kitty-cat, I can't thank you enough for considering. I really think this'll end well."
Blake rested her hands momentarily on Yang's waist, looking at her tiresome, but precious roommate in the eyes. "We don't even know it'll work yet, genius. Now get off me and tell me how we're supposed to infiltrate this place."
"Good plan!" Yang jumped off Blake, the sudden loss of pressure a relief to the woman. Turning her attention back to her phone, Yang leaned over the kitchen counter again, scrolling through her messages. "So, you know my dude that works there."
"The mysterious janitor, yes, after a grand total of two mentions, I feel like I know him as a brother now," Blake's biting sarcasm was always welcomed by Yang.
The blonde could only look at her. "You know, you're a smartass. But I love ya. Anyway, yeah, so after a little hookup to the bouncer, he owed my dude a favor—Aaaand out of the goodness of his heart, and probably the favor that he owed yours truly, the bouncer will let us in, no charge. Easy."
Blake pushed herself off the couch, joining Yang at the counter, "Seems incredibly convenient. You're sure there's no catch? I don't want you to get into any more trouble, Yang."
"Hey heey, it'll be fine! I told you. Favors. We're good, Blake. We're just going to scope things out for the time being. Obviously there's got to be an opportunity for you, so we'll take it slow and hope it pays off."
Blake rolled her eyes, "That sounds so very unlike you. The 'taking it slow' part, that is."
Yang pushed her shoulder playfully, "You'd be surprised, meow-mix. You'd be surprised."
Blake let out a chuckle, "You do know that if you called any other cat faunus "meow-mix," you'd be pummeled. Right? I just really want to make sure you know that."
"I knowwww, I'm not trying to be—Dammit Blake, you know me! Though, damn, I-I mean, please let me know if I'm going too—"
"Yang?
"Uh. Yeah?"
"It's fine."
The blonde's mouth hung open for a bit, a little unnerved by her friend's behavior; but somehow, Blake always kept her guessing like that. It was never a bad thing. She let out an appreciative laugh before resting a hand on Blake's shoulder.
"Sooo. Tonight, then? Ready to crash the mile-high club?"
The pianist met her roommate's hopeful amethyst eyes and gave her a small smile, despite the.. questionable reference at work. "I suppose it's a date."
a/n: Testing the waters with this one. Wanted to make a story about a passionate pianist and an upper class singer. In my opinion, both Yang and Blake are slightly out of character at times, but I hope the portrayal is still there. As always, please let me know how y'all like it!