Hurried footsteps woke him in the middle of the night. His bleary half-sleep became a distant memory as he heard the first retch. He fell out of bed unceremoniously, three feet to the floor and tangled in his sheets. The three seconds it took to untangle his onesie from the semi-sentient blankets were echoing in silence, Pyrrha rasping as she tried to catch her breath.
Finally free, Jaune squinted through the gloom. Moonlight filtered in through one of the large windows on the opposite wall - he briefly thanked his absentmindedness in drawing the blinds every night, it had come in useful for once - illuminating the hunched figure of his partner near the door.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked, knowing the answer but hating the silence as he closed the distance between them.
She grunted in reply, waving the hand closest to him in a so-so gesture as she gagged again.
Jaune rolled his eyes, crouching beside her to gather up her hair and pull it out of her face. Strands slipped out through the cracks in his fingers and he swept them up the best that he could, the mass of crimson twisted deeper and deeper into his hand. He gave up on the last few, resigning his free hand to rubbing her back gently in the same circles his mother always did.
Even the little commotion had woken Ren, who managed to turn on the lamp next to his bed without opening his eyes. Nora lay sprawled out next to him, half on her bed and half on his (Jaune had never asked about their sleeping arrangements after learning they weren't "together-together", but that was about the time he gave up trying to understand their dynamic). Nora, bless her, would sleep through anything. It was just the three of them for tonight.
Jaune paused in rubbing Pyrrha's back to wave at the immobile teen, grimacing ever so slightly, "Would you mind getting some water?"
The request was met with a nod, and Ren was out the door in seconds. Pyrrha heaved again under him, shaking and hot and undoubtedly miserable.
"Relax, Pyrrha," he muttered, "You'll feel better soon, I promise."
He could practically feel her rolling her eyes and he nodded along, "Yeah, that was dorky. Sorry."
She straightened up into a more upright position, fingers still curled around the trash can. Jaune decided against letting go of her hair just yet. Upright she may have been, she still looked unsteady.
"How're you doing?"
"Okay," Pyrrha said, no doubt lying through her teeth as he watched a chill run up her spine, "Go back to bed, Jau-"
She tried to wave him away as she leaned forward again and puked mid-sentence.
"I admit I'm pretty dumb, but give me a little credit, Pyrrha. That was a really weak lie."
He was suddenly extremely glad that he hadn't followed her advice as her fist connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. How the feverish, shaking, nauseated Pyrrha had managed to put that much force into a punch escaped him, but she had knocked him down on accident more times than he could count. He really shouldn't have been surprised.
Hair slipped through his fingers as he regained his composure. How on earth did she have so much hair? He could barely handle the blonde mop on his head - hers went past her hips when it wasn't in its regular ponytail, and it was curly. No wonder she spent so long in the bathroom every morning. The only person to rival her was Ren, who Jaune was fairly certain took a nap in there just to have some peace and quiet.
He shook himself to interrupt the train of thought and bring himself back to reality. Nora started to snore - poor Ren, he'd never get to sleep tonight - filling the room with snorts and grumbles so loud that there could have been an ursa under her bed and no one would have ever known. He sighed. It was either strangle the carrot-top now or face a drowsy, extremely irritated Yang Xiao Long within the next fifteen minutes.
There really wasn't a best option, as both involved leaving Pyrrha alone and he wasn't sure he'd be able to untangle his hand from her hair even if he tried. Maybe Ren would have a solution when he came back. One could only hope.
The door opened a little while later, making Jaune jump. This was the end. Yang had ambushed Ren in the hallway, stealing his scroll for easier access. He bid a silent farewell to Nora and the dorm room. If only Pyrrha's final moments weren't hunched over a trash can puking out the little she had managed to eat at dinner. Maybe Yang would take pity on her and care for Pyrrha after he was gone. RWPBY still sounded okay. Ozpin would probably make an exception for a five-man team.
The fiery death didn't come immediately, and Jaune eventually opened his eyes and dared a glance upward.
Ren raised an eyebrow, setting down a small tray next to the pair.
Pyrrha straightened out again, leaning against the wall this time and drawing her knees up to her chest.
"Better?" Jaune asked, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding when she nodded.
Ren picked up a mug from the tray and held it out to her, biting back a yawn.
"Ginger tea?" Pyrrha asked, staring down into the mug and then up at her teammate, "But this is your favorite. You can't get it in Vale."
He shrugged, smoothing out his bedhead, "Better you feel well than I have an extra mug of tea."
"Bless you, Ren," Jaune added, trying to untangle his hand from Pyrrha's hair and only half-succeeding.
The quiet young man turned and walked back to his bed. He grunted softly as he flipped Nora from her stomach to her back and surveyed his handiwork for a second before rejoining Jaune and Pyrrha. The deafening snores quieted almost instantly, leaving the two in silence again as Ren crawled back into bed and pulled Nora closer, falling into the slow, even breaths of sleep in seconds.
"When do you think he's finally gonna get the guts to kiss her?" Jaune asked quietly as he reached for the washcloth on the tray and held it on Pyrrha's forehead. Maybe he and Ren could have a heart-to-heart about the girls they weren't dating sometime. It was high time he took action. For the good of the team. Just not tonight.
It could wait for tonight.
"When indeed," Pyrrha agreed, taking a sip of the tea. She was still shivering (though she was trying quite valiantly to hide it), and the washcloth was growing warm under his hand already, but at least she was taking something in rather than forcing it out.
He leaned over to pull a blanket off of his bed and draped it over her shoulders, pulling it around her tighter when she tried to punch him again. Pyrrha Nikos, master of communication.
"Hey, I'd rather not call home and tell my dad that I got beat up in the middle of the night by a girl with the flu," he said, only half joking as he thought about the scheduled call he was supposed to make in the morning, "And don't tell me to go back to sleep either."
She relented, leaning back against the wall again and staring down into the half-empty mug.
Somehow, his arm wrapped around her as tightly as the blanket and her head fell onto his shoulder when she finally dozed off.
And when he was late the next morning to the family phone call, his mother would not accept an apology without an explanation. It was extremely difficult to downplay his feelings for Pyrrha when faced with the nine people who knew him better than anybody else.
"You know, there's an old saying in my side of the family," his mother said, bouncing his youngest sister on her knee and smiling, "You know you love someone when you hold their hair back when they vomit."
He didn't stop blushing for weeks.
im arkos trash all day every day dont even sweat it