Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: So I was talking with a friend of mine, and they came up with the following prompt: What if (Uh oh, it's one of those 'what ifs' we all love so much) team RWBY weren't huntresses? They were just normal people in the RWBY-verse?
To which I respond with enough sarcasm to power a small country: Well, duh, Salem would conquer the world, because who would stop her if not Team RWBY? Not the other nations' military or other Huntsman in Remnant. No Siree. Four teenage girls are it. Anyway. We had a laugh, but it basically meant that team RWBY would be normal civvies living in some kind of post-apocalyptic, Grimm-infested, Salem-ruled world. Sounds fun, don't it?
And then this idea came to me. And I had to add smut, because, duh. Thanks a bunch.
Enjoy.
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Give Me Shelter
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She recalls her mother's common – though, not nearly common enough, now that the time has long passed – insistence to keep her chin up, back straight and draw deep breaths. The oily smoke and acrid atmosphere burns in the back of her throat, and Weiss decides that perhaps keeping her chin down low might be a better idea. She lifts the collar of her threadbare coat across her nose and holds it there.
The line shuffles forward, around the side of the entrance to the bunker. Toward either side spans downtown Vale – and towards equal scenes of destruction. There are no fires anymore as far as she can see, at least so late in the day, but thick black smoke still rises in the air from what were once buildings.
Shops and homes.
Despite how often she hears the word, devastated doesn't really seem at all appropriate. On the contrary, the wreckage is noticeable and incongruous, all jagged edges and unidentifiable fragments of what once was lives that Weiss – in a rare moment of piety – prays survived the Grimm raids.
She lowers her eyes again and takes another step down into the bunker, pressing the toes of her boots into the well-worn dip at the center of each step. Countless feet curving even the strongest stone; the change that once to her seemed fascinating is now a slow agony of proof that time also destroyed.
What good is hard stone at all when it eventually broke under the constant raids of Grimm in their quest to destroy everything? What good is something supposedly 'permanent' when if not destroyed outright, it is whittled away by every step?
The din of voices seeking shelter beneath downtown Vale suffices as distraction from the weight of Weiss' bag that digs sharply into the curve of her neck. She looks away from a crying child whose mother is in no better shape, past school-aged children already at play with each other, too young not to see this as some great new adventure. She smiles a little in spite of her own misgivings. There are whole families here, old people and young couples, shopkeepers and even a street performer, his musical instrument held against his chest as if it where is own child.
Chin up, Weiss, her mother's voice echoes in her head. Always keep your chin up.
The shelter volunteers watch from their booths and stands as the main lobby fills. Even in the direst of raids, Weiss had never seen such a busy shelter. But, then again, this was central Vale. It was probably one of the largest metropolitan areas left, even without the constant raids working to whittle away its population like ocean waves beating a rocky cliff into submission.
Overhead, the lights flicker, their reserves of dust that had once been plentiful apparently running low. Posters detailing 'safety in numbers' and 'keep to your loved ones' are reduced to barely legible sheets of faded ink. The walls are dirty and crumbling, the concrete in dire need of repair months – years – ago, but no time to do so.
Weiss shoulders her bag closer to her side, one arm looping over it for her own security as much as for what little she carries inside of it.
From line to line she goes, with no children or family members to account for, not when they are either up north in Atlas… or dead, she isn't too sure anymore. She hasn't seen then in months; years, even.
Barring entrance to the shelter proper, at the top of ever set of stairs, stand the shelter wardens. Solar-powered scrolls in hand as if marking down names for a field trip, their eyes are alight with wariness. Though the power had stopped long ago in the major cities, the dust-powered clocks had remained ticking, and Weiss checks it against her wristwatch. The end of her shift would have been in thirty minutes, nightfall not far after.
That figures.
"Are you in line?"
The voice beside her ear startles her, and Weiss squeezes a hand over her heart to keep it from leaping from her throat.
"Yes," she answers, looking past her shoulder to the girl behind her. Dark, shoulder-length hair runs loose around a rounded face, her complexion nearly as pale as her silvery eyes. "Aren't all of us?"
"I kinda thought you might have been taking in the sights."
Weiss meets her eyes for a moment more, and turns away to stifle her own embarrassment. "I've seen enough."
They step forward, a sinuous shuffle as the wardens begin to let people down to the platforms, name by name.
"First timer?" the girl asks Weiss, and she nods.
"A bit stupid, really. I couldn't bring myself to leave my apartment until now, even with the raids outside the city. But now, staying put becomes a bit hard to justify when there's suddenly fire outside your window and everything starts falling over." Weiss shakes her head, and then shifts her bag, reaching up to readjust her ponytail. "It felt like an earthquake. My bookcase nearly killed me; I was right next to it."
"Better than a Greater Ursa," the girl shrugs. "But not my much."
Another step, and then another.
"You're from nearby?" Weiss asks. She keeps her voice quiet. It feels out of place to be boisterous when there are so many who seemingly can't control their loud laughter, their cries of greetings, or their tears.
"Was," the girl responds, and a step out of turn brings her standing beside Weiss. "Still am, I guess, although there's not much of a 'nearby' to return to."
"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry… I—"
"Its fine," the girl assures her. "No one's been around for months."
"You've been here," Weiss points out, wondering if the girl is referring to any friends or family of hers but unwilling to press the matter. "Seems a bit unwise."
"Super dangerous, you mean. Yea, I guess. But there's still work to be done, and once the Grimm finish and pass on, I'll find somewhere else to stay until the next time. Who knows? Maybe my place is still standing."
She smiles, a crooked sort of pleasure in the corners of her eyes, and Weiss watches her with growing dismay. "That's… kind of morbid."
"It is," she agree, her voice in a rather skilled imitation of the nightly announcements. "And perfectly acceptable for these trying times. We must all do what we can to carry on. Chin up, and all that jazz."
Weiss blinks, and then, surprisingly, laughs.
"Welcome back, Ruby," intones the shelter warden, smiling enough to raise her wireless frames a little higher on her face. She was old, but still spry-enough looking.
"Good evening, Mrs. Berk," she answers. Her arm slips through Weiss' to tug her forward. "Look! I've brought a friend tonight."
The wire frames lower slightly. "So it would seem."
In an instant, Weiss relives every dubious looks she's ever gotten from her parents, her teachers, her friends and her peers. Before she learned to stop saying that she wasn't interested in boys, before the learned to say that she was simply waiting for the right one to marry, before she learned to nod and feign attention when they told her to just find a nice man and settle. She forces a smile.
Chin up, Weiss.
"Weiss Schnee," she says, rising to her toes to peek and the name entered right besides Ruby's. The arm around hers remains long enough that Weiss has time to resent the blush rising uninvited to her cheeks.
"Welcome to the downtown Vale shelter, Ms. Schnee. You'll see that we have marked off areas for sleeping, others for personal needs and food preparation—"
"I'll show you everything," Ruby whispers, before turning a sunny smile to the warden. "Thank you, Mrs. Berk. I'm sure everything is great as ever."
Weiss is tugged along briskly, nearly dropping her shoulder bad as they bound down the stairs. Ruby's arm slips free, palm skimming along Weiss' elbow, to seek her fingers instead and lace through them. Weiss' breath stops, her heart ceasing to beat for an instant and she finds that she can no more stir them to life again than she can tug her hand away.
In matching skirts of grey cotton, bare legged without stockings, and dark boots, they would look like sisters – if it weren't for the different hair color, of course.
Perhaps they are, of a sort, and Weiss only notices the looks they receive before so few are sent their way.
"Y-you dolt! Are you crazy?" she hisses as the girl turns to face her.
"Nope," Ruby answers, canting her head slightly. "I'm friendly."
"Overly friendly."
"I can be unfriendly instead," she offers.
There's a challenge in the words and Weiss cocks an eyebrow. Ruby, to her credit, seems entirely genial either way. They only met on the staircase minutes before, but the girl is almost unfairly charming, breezy as if they'd met shopping at the mall instead of hiding underneath it. Weiss wonders what might have happened had they encountered each other anywhere else, the long uncertain looks they might have shared before lips caught coyly between their teeth in knowing grins.
Weiss thinks distantly of the apartment where she lived on her own until recently, but with room enough to two, and her cheeks burn. In answer, she simply shakes her head. Ruby's smile bounces back, broad teeth peeking beneath rosy lips, unmarked by lipstick.
"Weiss, right?"
"Yes. Just… just Weiss," she answers, fighting down a smile that begs to appear in response to the other girl's enthusiasm. "It's nice to meet you, Ruby."
"You, too." She grins.
Where she goes, Weiss follows. Stone walls curve overhead, growing smaller down into darkened tunnels. Already large families are staking claim to parts of the platforms, and already those who came alone are making their beds in prime locations. Weiss' steps slow to watch an elderly couple drinking something together from a thermos and a single cup, shared between them.
"I have some of my own, if you want any," Ruby offers, giving a nod for Weiss as they continue on.
"What, tea?"
"Well, it might have something a bit harder in it to give it a little kick."
"Might have," Weiss repeats dubiously.
"Okay, it definitely does," corrects Ruby. "But seriously, who's gonna stop us?"
They take a turn into a maintenance hallway, its door removed to allow for better ventilation. No sooner is the corner turned than the beehive hum of voices from the platform is dimmed, and Weiss sighs her relief before propriety can take hold.
"Oh," she sighs, slumping against the wall. "That's better."
"Best to get here early if you like the spot," Ruby says. "Most people think the area's off-limits."
"Is it?"
"Might be," she shrugs. "But once the shelter's full they'll start to push people in here if there isn't already someone here."
Weiss' throat tightens when she tries to swallow, and a stark realization slips sharply between her ribs. It's difficult to breathe here, harder still to imagine people like Ruby having spent days, weeks, in here over the course of multiple raids from the Grimm over the past months. She slips slowly down the wall to sit against the cold cement and lets her bag fall from her shoulder.
Chin up, Weiss.
"It's horrible, isn't it?"
"You just said it was better," Ruby reminds her, her smile gentle. Weiss looks away, bringing her knees together against the ground, legs tucked to the side, and she sits in silence as Ruby unpacks her bag. "It is whatever we make of it," she adds after a moment. "No different than being up there. An apartment, a house – any one of those can be equally shitty depending on how to look at them. And who's there with you."
"Any bed is better than the ground."
"Is it?" Ruby asks. Their eyes meet for a moment, and she says again, "Depends on who's there with you."
"Fair enough," agrees Weiss. She turns the back of her fingers to her cheek, wanting to wipe away her blush, and sighs. "Do you mind if I—"
"Nope. Go ahead."
They sip together in the relative quiet of their little nook, a shared cup passed from hand to hand, lips pressed to the metal made warm from the drink within. What the tea doesn't heat, the alcohol does, and when neither is sufficient to distract them from the blur of voices from the tunnels outside, their fingers brush together.
Weiss draws a breath so sharply that Ruby blinks at her, and a vulpine smile curves her lips. A dubious look is sent her way, and Weiss snatches the cup back with a prim lift of her chin. It does little to hide what both know, and when they share another gaze it lasts a beat longer than it should. It does little to distance them from the pleasant distraction of meeting someone so much like themselves in such an unlikely place.
"So, what do you do?" Weiss asks. She rests the edge of the cup against her mouth and notes with chagrin how Ruby watches the motion.
"You mean when I'm not kidnapping attractive girls down to the shelter?"
"Unless that is all you do."
"I don't make a habit of it," says Ruby. "I'm an assistant teacher when I can make it past the barricades."
"And when you can't?"
"Oh… this and that," she says simply, and Weiss laughs before she can stop herself.
"Is that what this is?"
Ruby grins and leans back against the wall. She toes off her boots and set her bare feet against the wall where Weiss sits. Weiss mirrors the movement. Their knees settle together, calves brush opposing thighs softly enough to cause the both of them to shiver, but neither withdraws.
"I used to work with my family," Weiss murmurs. "I grew up knowing where I was in life and what I was going to do. I am… was… Weiss Schnee, and I would carry on the Schnee name. Everything seemed so clear to me, and I was so sure of what I was going to do."
She declines the cup again, hand waving politely, and Ruby caps what's left of her supply.
"And then the war happened, and the Grimm started their raids." She says. "I couldn't help but feel responsible."
"Responsible for Salem?" Ruby laughs. "I'll have to ask you to kindly leave my little corner here if you are."
Weiss shrugs, watching the dim lighting glow across the concrete overhead. "Maybe if I'd have gone to Atlas Academy to be a Huntress like my sister, I might have – Oh, I don't know. Nothing makes any sense anymore, does it?"
"Nope. None at all," agrees Ruby.
With a sigh, Weiss drags her bag closer. She starts to unpack as Ruby had, a pile of clothes she could fit inside her rucksack, a few books loved into pale covers and rounded edges, a few pieces of chocolate taken from her pantry. Her hand brushes against the broken piece of metal that once was a sword – a gift from her sister, Winter – but she leaves it be, for now. "What do we do—?"
Above ground, a siren wails, and their eyes jerk to the ceiling.
Chin up, Weiss.
Rising and falling, far slower than the stuttering inside Weiss' chest, the alarm's strange, tuneless melody whines in languid agony. Not the steady pitch of all clear as the city is shrouded in darkness; but a warning, cyclical and unending. It doesn't matter in the slightest that she's inside the shelter, that earth and stone and cement surround them – the pressure in her chest grows, splintering and gnawing outward and then suddenly drawing back in, hollow and cold, into a void at the bottom of her belly.
Explosion and implosion.
Ruby's hand startles her nearly to tears, the touch too hot compared to the cold cement on which they sit. Without thought for anything but desperate comfort, their fingers pass clumsily over and squeeze, then release.
Somehow, Weiss manages a laugh.
"You'd think I'd be more used to it," she murmurs. "At least it's quieter down here."
"I'd be a bit more concerned if you were more accustomed to Grimm raids," Ruby answers blithely.
"Like you are?"
"Nope."
With slow, pensive movements, Ruby bundles their spare clothes together to create a serviceable pillow wide enough for both. Weiss follows her lead now as she did before, and they slowly stretch to lying face-to-face. Only a meter away, on the platform outside their little hall, a man speaks in animated voices to distract his distraught children with a bedtime story.
"They don't shut off the lights down here, in case we need to evacuate," Ruby says. With a shrug, she peels back her coat, a light gray thing barely in better shape than Weiss', and drapes it over them both. The scent of roses lingers in the lining, a perfume worn long enough that now the fabric still holds its ghost.
Beneath this makeshift blanket, the world seems so very small, consisting entirely of each other. Even Weiss' anxiety seems muted to a nervousness of sheer nearness, pressed in so close like this. She's certain that her breathing is too loud, her heartbeat too audible, and though she tries to settle both, it only seems to make them more conspicuous to her. Her body echoes in her own head, drowning out the drone of sirens and voices. Her throat clicks when she swallows.
The roar becomes deafening when Ruby sets cool fingertips against her cheek, and Weiss lets out another inappropriate laugh.
"I'm not that easy," she whispers, never mind that no one can hear them, never mind that her proclamation is weak and meaningless, rendered childish in the circumstances.
"No?"
"No," Weiss says. She licks her bottom lips between her teeth and presses them against tender inner skin. She isn't easy. But the ground has been uprooted from beneath her by the endless anticipation of an end that has yet to come but could come at any moment. A stray Grimm would call hordes more, and what good was living if done in constant fear? What good would her reputation matter then?
"No," she says again, inching her shoulders closer across the cold floor. "And I'm not going to kiss you lying on the floor of a shelter, in hiding from the Grimm."
She does anyway. Just the barest touch, lips curling together, warmed by alcohol and tea. Ruby's hands splay against her cheek and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
Just the one. No more than that.
Their noses brush together when they part.
"We shouldn't do that again," Ruby murmurs. She's barely able to keep the smile away, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "It would be way too easy."
They do anyway. Through the stiff cotton of their shirts, their breasts cushion together. They seek the other's hand blindingly to press their palms and twine their fingers so tight that the squeeze of their bones brings distraction from the dizzying touch of their kiss. Whatever moves them, moves them deeply, opens each to allow the other within, tongues tracing teeth and breath whispering loud against flushed cheeks. Like kissing for practice in school, like kissing with intent in the local bar, Weiss unfurls with familiarity, if not with Ruby than with the idea of her.
Damn the Grimm and damn the raids. Haven't people like them always survived, no matter what?
Parting just for air, just for a laugh passed between their lips, it is Ruby now who watches with surprise from the sudden intensity and Weiss who narrows her eyes with amusement. They heat quickly beneath the coat above them, breathe heavy as hands softly work down the slopes and rises of each other's breasts, hips and legs. Ruby curls blunt nails against the outside of Weiss' thigh, no tights to keep bare skin from skin, and a shiver rips up Weiss' spine.
"I'm not going to keep touching you," Ruby warns.
"I hope you won't," answers Weiss. "I fully intend to keep my hands to myself."
"Good."
"Good."
"It could be very weird if our hands keep moving," Ruby adds.
"Why would they keep moving? I'm keeping mine to myself."
"Well, you know what they say about idle hands," Ruby breathes. "They wander. My shirt, maybe." Her silver eyes flash in the dim light dispersed by the fibers of her coat.
"Sounds crazy to me," notes Weiss, as she carefully moves her hand down to slide up through the bottom of Ruby's shirt.
"Absolutely," Ruby gasps softly into the air between them. "So, it's a good thing you'll restrain yourself, then."
"Yes," Weiss says, as she fills her hand with the weight of Ruby's supple breast. No tedious lingerie to blunder through, there is only tender skin and pebbled nipple, hardening beneath her thumb, before Weiss ducks her head to bring it past her lips.
She fills her mouth and hollows her cheeks, and stroking her tongue against the firm nub, sucks lewdly. The sound is lost between their sighs and their shifting, beneath the blanked they've made and beneath the earth itself. A curse escapes Ruby when Weiss relents with a cooling sigh to seek the other in turn. She tangles one hand in Weiss' hair and skims the other beneath the hem of Weiss' skirt. Up high to the waistband of her panties, over a pointed hip, the thin material tugs tight when she finds the downy softness of hair between her legs. Ruby tightens her grip at the back of Weiss' head just enough to catch her attention, and part her lips from Ruby's breast as she lifts her eyes in silent question.
Breathless, her finger teases across the soft swell of Weiss' belly, and Ruby whispers, "I'm going to—"
"You are," Weiss says, begs, hopes, pleads.
"And you?"
"I will," she promises, searching between Ruby's eyes before a wide smile breaks free. "Even though we shouldn't," she adds, hoping the whisper of laughter doesn't sound as desperate as it feels. "Even though you should not pull harder—"
Weiss gasps, words cut short and neck arching as Ruby snares her hair tighter, her body rigid in rough delight. She stretches a leg to twine with Ruby's, palming her breast and scraping her nails down the plush swell of it. Their breath shortens between them, so loud now there is no mind for sirens or conversations outside – no world at all outside the one in which they rut in furtive secrecy. Twisting Weiss' panties aside enough to push her fingers further within, her wetness slicks hot against Ruby's touch. Their gaze settles together, near enough to kiss but only brushing their lips, slow, soft, and panting.
Ruby rubs her palm flat across Weiss' mound, settling her hips into motion. She rocks forward to meet the subtle ridges of Ruby's hand, its delicate texture in clear detail against her lips when Weiss is so sensitive already. She moans low when her hair is released, and sets her brow to Ruby's shoulder. One by one, fingers press deeper, parting her wide, and a brush of contact where Weiss stiffens snaps her hips rigid.
"Not there," Weiss whispers, a laugh caught in her throat. "Definitely not—"
Ruby's fingers still against her clitoris, holding a steady pressure, enough to dizzy her. A wry smile splits her face as Ruby asks, "Not there? You sure about that?"
"No, I mean that – I mean, I don't mean that," groans Weiss, helpless, smiling so wide it nearly hurts as their game falls apart between them. "Please don't stop."
"You mean it?"
"I mean it."
Her moan is muffled by the coat over their heads when Ruby rubs firm and fast against her. Slick fingers glide quickly across her hardened nub, and Weiss tries to stop her limbs from trembling but wonderfully, deliciously fails, instead wrapping her hands inside Ruby's shirt to catch herself. She can do little more than grind down against Ruby's hand in response, little more than whimper and mewl little, hitched sounds that rise, quickening, like a warning of her own imminent fall.
The world shifts beneath her, and whether it's from the tender barrage below or the Grimm above, Weiss hardly cares. A shiver cinches her body tight, twisting deep in her belly, so taught that she can't draw breath, until all at once the roar in her ears detonates. She uncoils, breath and body and beating heart, explosion and implosion, squeezing her thighs against Ruby's hand as dampness trickles down her leg.
Undulating with shock waves, Weiss' hips hardly slow, and she couldn't stop even if she tried. Ruby's patient fingers spread her open father, seeking lower, and Weiss parts her legs so that heated fingertips caress her opening, for now simply stroking, coaxing out her orgasm as long as possible.
She should feel some sort of shame about this, she imagines, meeting women in holes underground, ones that are strange beyond the idea of just being strangers. Is she really so desperate as that? To ride to release the first woman to offer up easy company and an even easier laugh, with boisterous talk as they lie tangled together?
Maybe she is. Maybe the time or the place or the circumstance made her so. Maybe when the threat of death looms so close, she understands that you need to take what you can get, and never look back.
When Ruby kisses her again, however, her worries fade. After all, one must always find a way to keep one's chin up.
Chin up, Weiss. Always keep your chin up.
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Fin.
A/N: I actually intended this to be crack at first. See how well that ended up.
An interesting enough concept, or so my friend said, and may even be worth a multi-chapter fic eventually. Who knows? Slice of life fics in a post-conquered world have their charms (especially when the protags are adorabs as Ruby and Weiss). Finding out what happened to the rest of team RWBY and JNPR would be interesting too, wouldn't it?
Also, I am still on the lookout for anyone interested in co-writing some stuff. I have some pretty interesting ideas (this one notwithstanding) and am always open to brainstorm some new things with others. I'm open to other fandoms, too. Just wanna expand my horizons a bit. That doesn't mean I'm done writing smut, though. Huehuehue.
Anyway, I hope you all have a wonderful - and safe - New Years! Bye bye 2017!
***Will work for glomps***