"...No one blamed her for anything! If she had just talked to us, she would've known that! How could I be there for her if she doesn't let me? What if I needed her here for me?"
Yang's face fell into her hands, messily trying to stem the tears she felt flowing. Her back heaved, despite herself, wracked with quiet sobs. She was only distantly aware of the hand Weiss placed on her shoulder, the touch dampened by the thick leather of her jacket.
"I know it's not easy," Weiss began, speaking with such softness, such compassion, that it only made Yang cry harder. "I wish she hadn't left too. The only thing we can do now is be there for her when she's ready. When she comes back."
Those last words needled Yang, striking something raw, something defiant. She lowered her hands from her eyes, a spike of resentment puncturing her sense of remorse. "If she comes back," she spat, her eyes red from rubbing.
"She will." Weiss spoke with almost imperious confidence, beating down Yang's own doubts. "Yang... you, Ruby, and even Blake are more like family to me than my brother or even my own father. I would do anything for you three, and I'm willing to bet Blake feels the same way. So, when she's ready, I'll be there for her. And I know we're not as close, but... I'm here for you too."
Yang nodded, wordlessly, as Weiss promised her the most valuable thing she could have promised. Yang's whole body felt heavy, the weight of the conversation exerting an almost physical pressure upon her chest. She felt hot - far hotter than the late Mistrali afternoon should have felt - her own sweat causing her clothes to chafe. She moved a hand to scratch her thigh-
-and felt something keeping it from moving.
Yang blinked, glaring at her Atlesian arm. Even after weeks of practice there was still the occasional hiccup, leaving the mechanical appendance numb or unresponsive. She had a small kit for tinkering with it, and she was already thinking about which tools she'd need to diagnose the glitch. Then she actually looked at her Atlesian arm, and saw what was keeping it from moving.
Another Atlesian arm.
Weiss' hand rested delicately atop the yellow plating of her own. If the metallic digits weirded Weiss out at all, she was doing an excellent job of concealing it. Even with the greatest sensory feedback the fabled roboticists of Atlas had to offer, the feeling wasn't quite the same as Yang had remembered it. Weiss' hand, playing almost absent-mindedly over hers. Not better, not worse, just… different. New.
"You feel cool," Weiss murmured, still stroking the appendage. The rest of Yang Xiao Long might be a sweat-stained mess, but her new arm would never be. Weiss crossed one hand over her own lap, so both hands were holding Yang's, for a moment.
"It's something in the material," Yang explained, softly. No one had touched that arm with any delicacy since it'd arrived, and the effect was spellbinding. "Sometimes it weirds me out when I sleep with it on." Yang swallowed, her throat still tight. "Feeling something so cold on my body."
With her right hand, Weiss let go of Yang's, brushing a few wayward strands of gold out of her friend's face. "If this is another crack about my feet..." Weiss began, sounding cross.
Yang blinked, before catching the sly smile on Weiss' face. The then-heiress' terrible circulation had been something of a running joke back at Beacon. And so Yang smiled. "The Ice Queen? Cold? Frigid?" The tease widened her grin a little. "Never."
And then she realized that Weiss' hand hadn't left her cheek, was still holding those golden locks at bay.
And then she realized they were kissing.
Yang kissed back without thought, feeling the firmness and the passion and the cool touch of Weiss Schnee's lips on hers. The kiss was blind and artless, a cauldron of need and want and so many messy emotions. Yang clasped Weiss' hand with her robotic one, felt Weiss curl fingers around her hair, tugging needily.
It felt good. It felt really, really good. So good that she almost forgot that Weiss wasn't in the habit of kissing women; that this conversation had begun with Blake.
They parted - more from lack of air than conscious intent - bodies pressed together, breaths hot and heavy. Yang tasted salt on her lip, a moment before the Huntress wrapped herself around Yang, burrowing her head in the crook of Yang's neck.
"Gods did I miss this," Weiss whispered, her breaths falling on Yang's ear.
"Missed what?" Yang clutched Weiss without thinking, holding the huntress close as Weiss positioned herself more atop and in front of her.
Weiss pulled back, allowing Yang to look her in the eye. Sky blue eyes clouded with tears, her skin reddened, flushed. "I missed your hair," Weiss said, both hands playing through Yang's mane. A mane which hadn't been combed in some time, the tangled hairs almost ensnaring Weiss' fingers. It was an easy compliment - one Weiss had paid Yang many times in the past - but it sounded different now. Weiss' voice was raw, her throat tight, almost choked. "Missed how you hold me." Yang gripped her a little tighter, her mind flashing back to their shared battle at Vytal. Weiss shook her head, blinking back tears. "Missed you."
Weiss kissed her again, closing her eyes and craning her neck, drinking in the touch of Yang's lips. And Yang needed this just as much. Needed the love and the acceptance and care Weiss was offering, gulped it down like ice water in the desert. The fear and the tension and the uncertainty in Yang's mind seemed to melt away at the Ice Queen's touch, overwhelming and subsuming.
Weiss pushed forward, forcing Yang back, compelling Yang to surrender her grip on Weiss in order to steady the both of them on the bed. Yang continued shuffling backwards whenever Weiss broke a kiss, retreating until her back was against the headboard of the bed, a reassuring stability.
Only when Yang was propped up did Weiss give her time to breathe, sliding back a little to give her bedmate some space. Judging by Weiss' expression, Yang hadn't been entirely successful in keeping the surprise from her reaction. "Are you okay, Yang?" Weiss asked, withdrawing her hands.
Yang blinked. That past minute or two had been the most pleasurable experience she'd had in months. She struggled to think of the last time she'd felt such elation. The early rounds of Vytal? Seeing Torchwick hauled off in chains? The Beacon prom?
"Yeah," Yang promised, her chest rising and falling. That last thought stuck in her mind. "Just remembering our dance at Beacon." Weiss blinked. "You and… uh… Neptune." Weiss blushed a most majestic pink. "I didn't realize you were into, uh… girls?" That sentence ended as a question, quite unintentionally.
"Back at Beacon…" Weiss began tracing idle lines up and down her own thigh, the movements making small ripples on her skirt. "I'm not sure I realized I was, either." Despite herself, Yang raised her eyebrows, a little quizzically. Weiss reddened further, tucking her chin down. "Or maybe I wasn't ready to realize…"
Yang leaned forward, tilting Weiss' chin up ever-so-slightly so she could plant a kiss on those beautiful lips. It was the first of their kisses Yang had initiated entirely on her own, and it felt even better because of it. Weiss looked like she was floating on a cloud well after it ended.
Yang slid back, resting against the headboard with a dull thud. "You don't… have to give me the whole story," she said, rubbing her neck a little awkwardly. She wanted to be supportive without pressuring, available without- "unless you, like, want to."
Weiss concealed a giggle with her hands. "I would, Yang," Weiss said, the words a weight off her chest. For all her fears and nervousness, it felt so damn relieving to finally tell someone. Weiss cleared her throat. "But… maybe a little later. I -" there was more throat clearing "-I kind of want to keep kissing for now. If that's alright?"
Yang smiled her sunniest smile, a supernova of warmth and love. "That's fine with me, Weiss."
The next minute was a wordless one, as if counterbalancing the one preceding it. Weiss helped Yang out of her jacket, leaving her in her orange tank top, abs bared. And then Weiss guided Yang down to the bed, so they were lying side by side, listening to each other's breaths, small touches and short kisses.
Yang's hand played over Weiss' arm, along the expansive of fabric that covered Weiss from wrist to shoulder. "If we keep lying here," Yang mused, her finger trailing to the dress' collar, "this is going to get wrinkled."
Weiss propped herself up on one arm. "Yang Xiao Long, are you propositioning me?"
Yang sputtered. "Wait, no! I just meant-" but Weiss was already giggling, having managed to turn the tables on Yang, as she was so rarely able to.
"Well…" Weiss slid off the bed, rolling her neck. "If you're so concerned, perhaps you can help me out of it."
It took a supreme effort of will for Yang to keep her cool as she helped Weiss slide out of the dress. It was hard not to stare. Weiss folded the dress over the side of a chair - she dumped her clothes on the floor on the day she died - leaving her standing before Yang in a lacy thong and an underwire bra. The garments looked almost too fancy, before Yang reminded herself that this was Weiss Schnee she was ogling. And Weiss was nothing if not elegant.
Weiss made her way back to the bed, unhurriedly. It was funny - Yang had seen Weiss in her unmentionables before, seen her in that ensemble before, probably - and yet it had never had this effect on her. By the time Weiss was back on the mattress Yang felt horribly overdressed, and gracelessly stripped off her top and kicked off her boots, wiggling out of her pants to a bemused expression from the woman opposite her. A spike of self-consciousness surged through Yang, lying there in a cheap strapless bra and a pair of boyshorts that clashed in color. She'd been wearing more or less the same outfit for weeks now, and even a spin cycle or three hadn't seemed to cleanse the smells of travel.
But all that was forgotten for the next few minutes, as they resumed their lovemaking. Yang wrapped her hands around Weiss' back, running up and down her sides. Weiss gently positioned herself atop Yang, exposing her stomach and her chest and her neck to Yang's kisses. Weiss sweat no less than Yang in the Mistrali heat, adding a salinity to her pale white skin, licked eagerly by her lover.
"...You can, if you want to," Weiss murmured, leaning closer to Yang and breaking the woman's reverie.
"...can what?" Yang asked, feeling Weiss nibble at her earlobe.
"Take it off."
Yang's eyes shot open, and she was suddenly aware that she'd been fiddling with the clasp of Weiss' bra. It had been an unthought reflex, like clicking a pen, but Yang realized she must have seemed like every terrified boyfriend trying to advance to second base.
"Oh." It wasn't really an intelligent reply, but Yang needed to make some sound.
"If you'd like." Weiss resumed her kisses. "I do owe you for rescuing me from those bandits, I suppose."
Yang pushed Weiss back slightly, hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eye. The absolute last thing Yang wanted was her friend throwing herself at her out of some misplaced sense of indebtedness. "Seriously, Weiss, you don't owe-"
And then she caught the glimmer in Weiss' eye, the way the corner of her lip tugged upwards. She was starting to dislike being on the receiving end of all this teasing...
Yang cleared her throat, her hands drifting back to Weiss' shoulder blades. "Well, what can I say, I worked really hard to rescue you," Yang continued, pivoting from concern to glibness in a heartbeat. "And it was definitely all intention. And not, like, some crazy coincidence, or anything."
With a squeeze of thumb and forefinger, Yang undid the fastener on Weiss' bra. Weiss was still leaned over her, and Yang's gentle tugging helped gravity slide the straps off. Weiss leaned back at the last possible moment, holding the cups to her chest for one teasing infinity, before letting the bra fall away.
Once again, Yang hurried to follow suit, and then they were pressed against one another, reveling in the expanses of bare skin, relishing the tactile sensation of their contact. They kissed and they clawed, finding every excuse to move their hands across shoulders and hips and breasts and collarbones.
Weiss tried to slide sideways, only to find her legs hopelessly entangled in the sheets, which had been tossed about thoughtlessly in their lovemaking. Yang let out a giggle as Weiss huffed her way to freedom, kicking both the sheets and the blanket off the bed in the process. And then they were lying side by side again, Weiss resting one hand on Yang's hip, fingers trailing the elastic of her undergarments.
It was Yang who spoke next. "So… what now?" Yang asked, genuine uncertainty in her voice.
Weiss blinked. She would have thought it blindingly obvious, but Yang's question had contained an answer in it of itself. Weiss wiped a bit of sweat from her brow. Even in the midst of their makeout, she hadn't undone her ponytail, which rested limply over her shoulder. "Well, I for one was thinking we could make out and cuddle." Had Yang asked about her intentions a minute ago, Weiss' answer would have been nowhere near as chaste.
Yang smiled a little. Cuddle was a word that was just too cutesy to be spoken by Weiss, by a woman so cold and sharp. And then Yang blinked. She knew that Weiss knew - knew how she was feeling right now. That there was no point in being cute or coy about it. "And… you're okay?"
Weiss peered into her eyes with those icy blue infinities of her own. "I trust your feelings, Yang," she answered.
And it was answer enough. Yang nodded, just a little glumly, as some of the manic euphoria of their makeout drained from her. "It's just that if… if this is going to be… a thing…" Weiss raised a quizzical eyebrow at Yang's choice of words "... then I don't want to throw myself blindly into it." Yang swallowed. "You deserve better than rashness, Weiss."
Weiss leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on Yang's lips, so soft she barely felt it. "And so do you, Yang," she replied, drawing back on herself. "And I want this, too. I want you. But I don't..." Weiss scratched her arm "... don't want to take advantage of you." She offered a small smile. "Any more than I already have, of course."
"Of course," Yang parroted back, mirroring her smile.
And then Yang exhaled. She felt her pulse slowing, and the vortex of emotions her hormones had suppressed came bubbling back to her surface thoughts. Guilt, uncertainty, remorse, love. So many feelings she still needed to think through, a process that could be rushed, but never without a cost.
Yang moved to seat herself upright, and something in the movement produced a sweat-sleeked squeak eliciting an unladylike snort from Weiss. "Sorry about that," she apologized with a grimace. Heat was murder for her. "And you're good, uh..." Yang's sentence trailed off, but her eyes darted to the spot between Weiss' legs, where one of her teammates hands was none-too-discreetly resting. "Didn't mean to, uh, get you worked up and then do nothing…"
Weiss rolled her eyes. "Yes, Yang, because I'm not some sex-starved teenager," she bit back. Which, if she was being brutally honest, was not technically entirelytrue.
Yang smiled. "So… what now?"
"Now, Xiao Long, you're going to take a shower," Weiss dictated. "Before this entire bedroom smells like a gym."
Yang grimaced. "Right. I'll grab a shower. And you?"
"Me?" Weiss asked, innocently. Except she was rearranging the pillows in an oddly purposeful manner. "I'll be taking advantage of you taking a shower."
Either Yang or Weiss should have blushed at that, but it just drew a silly smile from Yang. "Does it need to be a long shower, Weiss?" Yang teased, trying to get her revenge for the earlier taunts Weiss had landed against her.
But Weiss' expression was stony, practically oozing sangfroid. "There's certainly no need to rush, Yang," she replied coolly, as Yang gathered a few toiletries. And then Weiss cleared her throat, her expression softening, her tone a fragile warmth.
"I'll be here when you come back."
And the sun shone a little bit brighter.
halo (heɪ.ləʊ) n. any of a wide range of atmospheric optical phenomena that result when the Sun or Moon shines through thin clouds composed of ice crystals.
V5E8: Weiss and Yang have a heart-to-heart after their arrival at Haven. Weiss promised Yang that she'd be there for her.
And, maybe, more than just that.
[AUTHOR NOTE]
Shout out to Encyclopædia Britannica for giving me the definition of a halo in a meteorological context, and the Oxford University Press for the Cambridge Dictionary for the fancy phonetics. And this is the second RWBY fic in a row where I've used dictionary definitions as the summary, oh dear.
I'm sure someone has re-written that scene before (though I haven't encountered any fics doing so, alas). Hopefully, I'm not the only one who postulated a romantic expression could come after that. And while I've written three fics pairing Yang and Weiss (if we're generous with the definition of "pairing" and "fics"), this is the first time I've done so in a canonical setting, which feels long overdue. Not to be a zealous shipper or anything, but Freezerburn is one of my favorite pairings, and subjective preferences aside, holy hell did Volume 5 give Yang and Weiss some chemistry.
I tried to strike the right emotional balance, between Yang's complicated feelings for Blake and Weiss' love. I might feel just a tiny bit guilty about making Weiss make her move when she does, but sometimes love is messy like that. Often, actually. Hopefully that messiness came through, without detracting from the actual Weiss/Yang pairing too much.
And as always thank you for your readership! Please feel free to leave any comments, thoughts, feedback, or headcanons in the comments. Criticism is the only way I'll ever get better as a writer. If you'd like to know more about me/my writing, feel free to hit up my About page. I'm also active on both reddit and Tumblr, and can be reached through any of the means on my Contact page. And please find me on AO3, under the username "Liara_90", which is where I always post everything.