Sweatshirt
Chapter One
Having grown up in a part of Mistral where it was warm year round, the extraordinary Pyrrha Nikos was impervious to all but one thing: cold. When the winter season blew its first chill through, his partner was, for once, unprepared for the onslaught of shivers and goosebumps. Thus, Jaune was not surprised to find her doing her homework on her bed instead of the library, wrapped in her blanket.
What he was surprised by, however, was the flash of orange fabric by her neck. Pyrrha had sworn off the color orange ever since Coco sassily informed the redhead that orange was a horrible color on her. Pyrrha didn't own anything with orange...so then what was she wearing?
Unaware of his presence, Pyrrha pulled the orange fabric to her face and inhaled deeply. The blonde's brows raised in surprise and quickly furrowed in confusion. That was his sweatshirt she was wearing, his sweatshirt that she was sniffing. He knew she was fond of the smell of campfires, but he hadn't been around a one since he accidentally lit a tree on fire three weeks ago.
"Pyrrha? Why are you wearing my sweatshirt?"
Her emerald eyes widened, her cheeks gaining a rosy hue as her head snapped up to stare at him with embarrassment, growing flustered as she struggled to take it off hurriedly. "I'm sorry Jaune, I assumed you wouldn't mind if I borrowed it. I don't have any clothing suitable for this sort of weather and I-"
"Whoa, whoa," he held up his hands to gesture for her to stop. "It's fine, I don't mind at all Pyrrha. Whenever you want it, you don't even have to ask, okay? We should get going though, Ren and Nora are waiting for us," His stomach growled. "And apparently so is my stomach."
Pyrrha smiled and nodded, unfurling the blanket and standing up. Jaune's heart skipped. His sweatshirt was big on her, and without any pants to cover the rest of her legs, the sweatshirt hid the shorts he hoped she was wearing. A strange sense of satisfaction and possessiveness washed over him then, and he offered her his arm like he'd seen gentlemen do. His partner gave him a curious look but accepted it nonetheless. For the five minute walk from their dorm to the cafeteria, Jaune prided himself on not being the oblivious one; it was Pyrrha. She was ignorant to people's glances between his sweatshirt, their intertwined arms, their smiling faces, and the way she stood closer to him than normal in order to steal his body heat. He knew Pyrrha would never like him the way he liked her, but for this once, he was okay with letting people think she was his.