A/N: Hi this is something a little bit different, that I've wanted to do for a while. This is going to maybe come to fruition based on what you guys think. I'm a Whiterose Bumblebee writer primarily, but I'm willing to give this a try. Enjoy and please give me some feedback on this as it's my first story of the sort. Anything that I can use to make this better will be greatly appreciated.

Also please check out other things written by me if Freezerburn + Ladybug aren't your thing.

Thank you.

Weiss

With only tables and chairs lining the walls, the ballroom is dressed with the bare minimums, but by the end of the week, it will be completely prepared for this year's dance. Presently, Yang and I work on different areas as our expertise is obviously different. Ruby decided to tag along, saying that she wanted to be here in order to quell any decorative arguments that could possibly arise.

After our performance last year, preparing and executing the school's dance without a problem, Professor Ozpin decided that it would be best to allow Yang and I to set up this year's dance as well.

We both accepted without hesitation, of course, although after our ordeals last year, I would have hoped that she of all people would be easier to deal with.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

"Weiss! I thought we had this conversation last year. No doilies!" Yang yells, challenging me with defiance blazing in her violet eyes.

I meet her gaze, standing my ground and fold my arms, "We did, and if I still can't have doilies, then you can't have your smoke machine. Humph." I turn away from her, walking towards my partner.

But, if there's anything that was born from our experiences last year concerning my relationship to Yang, it was that I became much closer to Ruby. To be completely honest, she's without a doubt become my best friend. And though I confess that our relationship may have started off a little shakily, there's nothing that I wouldn't tell her now and I know that the reverse is true as well.

I walk over to the small circular table where Ruby sits, her left hand busy, drawing furiously in the small notebook that Yang and I, but mostly I, are using to keep the logistics of the dance organized. Sighing, I sit down beside her and cross my legs. "Ruby, what are you doing? If you needed something to draw on, you could've just asked," I say, gently pulling the book away from her.

She offers no resistance as I take it, turning it so that the image that she was drawing is right side up. While she really has no discernible talent in drawing, the message and emotion that she was trying to convey is clear. Stick figures of both Blake and Ruby stand by side - at least I think they do - and hold hands with smiles on their faces. Surrounding them is a large heart that for some reason also has a smile on it.

The poor girl is head over heels and can barely keep it a secret. Then again, unless you knew her, deciphering this mess would be decidedly difficult.

I sigh again; closing the book and take the younger girl's hands in my own. "Ruby, remind me again if you will. How long have you been enamored with Blake?"

"Enamored? Like the teeth?" She responds looking at me cluelessly.

"No, that's enamel, Ruby. I mean how long have you liked her?"

Ruby looks down and I can see a slight blush developing in her cheeks, I of course know the answer to this question, but I may finally be able to convince her to take action. As dependable as she is on the battlefield, she's absolutely useless in this kind of situation.

"I've liked her ever since our first day at Beacon. I may not have realized it at the time, but the way that she looked at me when I told her about my reason for wanting to be a huntress, the way that she didn't praise the idea and tell me to shoot for the stars like everyone else, the way that she treated me like an equal . . ." she trails off, smiling at me, and withdraws her hands. "Sorry," she adds bashfully, "You're probably sick of hearing this."

I smile at her naiveté; she's still young and barely understands why romance is perceived in the way that it is.

"On the contrary, Ruby, I doubt that I could get tired of hearing about this. School life, aside from the constant training, is surprisingly dull," I explain with a wave of my hand.

"Maybe that's because you never do anything other than study, Weiss," She remarks snidely.

That response shows how comfortable the younger girl has gotten around me over our time together. A year ago, that might have made me storm out of the room, but our situation is completely different now, and admittedly, I enjoy our banter.

"Well maybe that's because there's nothing to do outside of the dorm," I counter, matching her tone.

Exactly at that moment Yang walks into the conversation with a smirk on her face, and leans against our table. "There's nothing to do outside the dorm? How come I didn't get that notice when we started school?" She asks mockingly, drawing an immediate scowl from me.

"Sorry, Yang, you were probably busy with your catch of the week," I say derisively. Hearing a muffled snicker, I sneak a sideways glance at Ruby and share her smile.

"Ouch, that one stung, Ice Queen," she replies, holding her hand to her chest in mock pain.

"I'm sure that it did. Now what was it that you wanted?" I ask, shooting Ruby a look that says 'we'll continue our conversation later'.

"Weiss, Yang, I'm going to head back to the room, there's some work that I need to finish before class tomorrow," Ruby says, nodding at us before leaving with a swish of her cape.

As she leaves, I get an idea, but I wouldn't be able to carry it out alone. Yang might be helpful, although manipulating her night require some leverage.

"Weiss, one more time. Can I please have a smoke machine?" She gets down on her knees and clasps her hands together essentially begging.

Normally, I would be adamant about this, but I can see how I can use this to my strategic advantage. For some reason, she really wants this smoke machine. If I give into her, I can force her to help me with this plan.

"Ok, Yang. You can have your smoke machine," I cede.

"Really?" She asks incredulously.

Then she does something that I didn't expect, picking me up as though I were made of Styrofoam and twirling me around. Finally, when she puts me down, it takes me a moment to regain my footing and my breath, "Yang . . . Never do that again," I command, although its weight is probably somewhat dampened by my breathlessness.

"Sorry," she says, looking pleased with herself, but frowning immediately afterwards. "Wait a minute, what do you want from me?"

A smile ghosts across my face for a fraction of a second; I've got her exactly where I want her.

"I'm afraid that I don't know what you mean, I don't want anything at all."