Writer's Note: So, this is actually my first time writing from Pyrrha's perspective. As a quick shout-out, this was somewhat tangentially inspired by Monica (DashingIceCream)'s gorgeous Monochrome and Greek Fire pairings. Originally, this was just going to be Greek Fire, but I realized I wanted more Monochrome in my life.
A Place Called Hell
When Yang suggested taking a trip to Hell, impossibly blue skies and white sand beaches weren't really what Pyrrha had in mind.
The day after Pyrrha took gold for the javelin in the US Championships, Yang appeared in their living room with three brochures, a determined look on her face, and absolutely no intention of giving up until the redhead picked a vacation spot. Pyrrha, missing her girlfriend just as much after the long, grueling months spent training for the competition, was only too happy to oblige.
Eventually, they'd settled on the Caymans, partly for the simply gorgeous beaches, partly to appease Yang's desire to go scuba diving, and partly for the deal they found on a week-long beachside condo. At Yang's suggestion, they invited Weiss and Blake along too, figuring the other couple could use a vacation about as badly as they did. Granted, Weiss was probably capable of buying the entire condo development outright, but Blake had long insisted that she pay for at least half of anything the couple did together. Splitting the condo rental with Yang and Pyrrha made for an excellent compromise, and far less of a dent in the girls' finances. Ruby, unfortunately, couldn't tear herself away from school, and Ren and Nora were too deeply sunk in their latest project to be able to come.
Which was how Pyrrha ended up clad in a surprisingly fluffy bathrobe, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and staring past the sliding glass door at the blue-green expanse stretched out before her. The summer breeze tugged at her hair, carrying the smell of salt and brine and the cries of gulls off the ocean. It teased the hem of her robe and the broad-brimmed hat perched atop the statuesque blonde laid out on the balcony, clad in nothing but a wine-red bikini and busily rubbing suntan lotion onto her legs.
"You're already up?" Pyrrha asked, smiling as she leaned against the doorframe. In all fairness, 'already' meant some time close to noon – jet lag, a late arrival time, and a turbulent flight had left them all exhausted the night before. At least the child seated behind Pyrrha had stopped kicking halfway through the flight.
Yang turned and beamed up at the redhead, somehow managing to be more brilliant than the magnificent view behind her. "Sorry. The sun was calling my name."
"For the record, I like waking up next to you," Pyrrha said, letting her eyes linger on the tight abs framed by the red side-ties before meeting the blonde's gaze.
Laying the lotion aside and wiping her hands on her legs, Yang grinned and rose to her feet, running a playful finger down the folds of her girlfriend's robe. "Well, I'm pretty sure I can make it up to you."
Giving Yang as sardonic a look as she could muster, Pyrrha leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm sure you can ... later. How long have you been up?"
"Long enough to grab groceries and come back." The blonde shrugged at Pyrrha's cocked eyebrow, and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "I actually slept on the plane, and you looked like you needed the rest."
"Then I suppose it's only fair I cook breakfast."
The sun-kissed face split in a mischievous grin. "Omelettes?"
"I'll take a wild guess you already got the ingredients."
"Extra cheese on mine?"
Pyrrha smiled as she slipped back into the bedroom. "And jalapeños. I know."
The eggs had just finished cooking by the time Weiss staggered out of the bedroom she shared with Blake. The petite woman had her hair was pushed back, a hairband keeping the long white strands from her face, tumbling down the back of her nightdress.
"Morning," she managed, propping herself up on the kitchen counter and looking down at the vegetable-filled breakfasts Pyrrha was doling out.
"Morning." Seeing Weiss reach for one of the plates, she coughed and pointed with her spatula. "There's coffee in the pot, and before you burn your tongue off, the plate on the left is Yang's."
Sensing the culinary monstrosity that lay within – Yang had an incurable love for hot peppers and hotter sauce – Weiss shuddered and withdrew her hand, grabbing two of the 'safe' breakfasts and taking them back to the table. She sat just in time to watch a very groggy Blake slide into the chair next to her, head falling to rest on the smaller woman's shoulder. Reaching up to brush her girlfriend's hair back past her twitching ears, Weiss slid the plate in front of the half-asleep Faunus before turning back to Pyrrha.
"Congrats on the gold," she said, starting to slice apart her egg-wrapped breakfast. "I know we called, but I wanted to say it in person."
"Thanks." Pyrrha looked up from her food, only to duck her head as Blake wrapped her arms around the dainty heiress and snuggled into the crook of her neck. She busied herself with the meal while pointedly ignoring the soft sounds of cuddling and the quiet objections coming from the other side of the table.
"So, you'll be heading to the World Championships next?" Weiss asked, taking a dainty bite as Blake finally managed to pull her head upright.
"If I'm lucky," Pyrrha nodded, spearing a bit of own food and humming slightly as she bit into the bell peppers inside. It was perfect, something she didn't say lightly. While one of Yang's favorite breakfasts, omelettes had always been challenging for her. The process itself wasn't that hard, but it had taken her months to figure out just the right time to add the vegetables to keep them crisp, and how much cheese to add, or when to flip it to get the egg evenly cooked through. Yang had never had a bad word to say about anything she'd made, but there was still enough of a perfectionist in her to want to get it right. Plus, watching the expression on Yang's face made it all worthwhile.
"One of these days, we'll get you to stop being modest," a soft voice drawled in her ear. Pyrrha looked up just in time for warm lips to brush her cheek, tanned skin flashing as the blonde gave her a quick hug about the shoulders. "She's a shoo-in for the US team."
Plunking down in the chair beside Pyrrha, Yang dug into her own food, grinning as a chunk of jalapeño hit her tongue. Surprisingly, Yang had actually bothered to throw a shirt atop her swimsuit – a white button-down that Pyrrha had a sneaking suspicion was one of hers.
The rest of the meal passed in easy conversation, the gentle patter broken by inquiries into each other's work lives that hadn't come up while waiting for the plane or on the drive from the airport. Weiss was only too happy to talk about how well Blake's legal aid office was coming along, especially since the white-haired girl's recent promotion to COO of her family's company had been well-publicized in the previous weeks. Yang had tale after tale to share of the oddest people who'd wandered into her bar, managing to make even Blake laugh through her morning stupor.
Finally, when the food was gone, the coffee was drunk, and dishes were put away, Yang began bouncing on her heels, looking disturbingly chipper.
"So, who's ready for Hell?"
Hell turned out to be a jagged stretch of black limestone formations, bordered by wooden walkways that allowed the curious tourist to stare down at the bleak, desolate landscape. In all fairness, it did look 'hellish' enough for the name, although the lush green brush surrounding it and the clear Cayman beach off in the distance ruined the image somewhat. It was as if someone had managed to drop a piece of the moon, or a long-dead volcano smack-dab in the middle of the island.
For all the signs extolled the area's resemblance to the realm of the dammed, Pyrrha wondered if the area would still carry the name had the local tourist attractions not latched onto it with such fervor. A fire-engine red building stood off to the side, stenciled letters framed with flamed yellow, welcoming new arrivals to hell and inviting them inside 'The Devil's Hangout.' Which, coincidentally, included a gift shop. The 'Hell Service Station' lay back along the road they'd taken, with the surrounding storefronts emblazoned with biblical quotes, as if to ward off any misfortune caused by the blatant use of satanic imagery to draw more tourist dollars.
Not that it stopped Yang from snapping photo after photo, apparently oblivious to the fact that Pyrrha was spending more time staring at her than the dark gray spires. It was nice seeing Yang enjoying herself, and even better to be here with her. That was what she hated most about training, and the only reason she ever regretted it – the time spent away from Yang.
Blake and Weiss seemed to have the same idea, seeing as the taller, darker woman hadn't let Weiss out of her sight since they'd met at the airport the day before. For the briefest of moments, Pyrrha envied the couple, who had wed almost immediately after leaving school to the joy of every single one of their friends. The service had been incredible, the stuff of dreams, and all of it put to shame by the look on Blake's face when the doors had opened to admit her blushing bride.
Not that marriage was in the cards for her or Yang anytime soon. At least not until after the current season. The training camps, the long hours spent practicing and drilling – it wasn't really the kind of schedule to have a relationship in. They managed it, but still, Pyrrha wanted time before they took that next step. Time together not broken by long periods of Skype calls and late-night chats. Time for them to be 'together,' when they didn't have the claw and scrape for every minute. The only upside was that it made her treasure times like these all the more, when she could watch her girlfriend with her own eyes, not through the digital view of a camera. When she could see the sway of that thick blonde mane, the way the corner of her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Those long legs, toned calves leading to carefully sculpted muscles, climbing up and up to the hem of her shorts-
A bright flash of light hit her eyes, blinding her for a split second. Pyrrha blinked, trying to erase the sunspots burned into her corneas, only to mock glare at the smirking blonde once her sight returned. The twitch of Yang's eyebrow let her know she'd been caught staring, and the way the blonde sauntered over made it pretty damn clear that she didn't mind at all.
"Come on," Yang said, beaming as she took Pyrrha's hand. "I promised Ruby I'd send her a postcard with the devil on it."
Dinner that night was eaten out on the patio, listening to the calm, steady rush of the sea, the water dyed pink by the setting sun. It cast a rosy tint over everything, turning Weiss' hair the same color as her face when Blake stepped away from the grill to lean down and whisper something in her ear. Swatting lightly at the Faunus woman, she'd grumbled, only to scowl as Pyrrha couldn't quite suppress her giggle. Honestly, Pyrrha was having trouble doing much more than lying back and staring out at the reddening water. The evening sat over her like a blanket, warm and welcoming, broken only by the sound of the fat, sizzling salmon currently grilling on the barbecue, and the sudden cry of-
"Margaritas!" Yang purred as she sashayed out onto the deck, large glasses already sprinkled with salt in one hand, ice and cocktail-filled pitcher in the other. She wasted little time in pouring the concoction into the bulbous glasses, lime slices perched on the sides with the precision of a consummate professional.
"Thanks, but I'll pass," Weiss murmured, distracted as she flicked through screens on her scroll.
"Seriously?" Yang asked, dumbfounded. "I went for the whole citrus kind, just the way you like."
When her cajoling failed to pull a response from the heiress, she grinned slightly, the teasing clear in her voice. "I even went easy on the tequila, since we all know you can't hold-"
"I really just don't feel like drinking tonight, Yang."
"Fine," the bar-owner said, feigning insult as she lounged back in her chair, one salt-rimmed glass in each hand. "More for me."
Pyrrha chuckled and took her own glass, the taste of the salt set off by the tang of whatever fresh fruits Yang had managed to find and juice on short notice. It was always fresh with Yang. Pre-processed or lime-flavored substitute would simply not do. She had to admit, Yang's drinks always tasted better than any others she'd ever had, although she still wasn't sure how much of that was objective taste, and how much was the knowledge that Yang had made it for her.
"Wait a second," the blonde sat up, swallowing her mouthful before staring accusingly at the heiress. "You're not drinking. Blake's being more protective than usual ... no. You didn't."
"Yang-" Weiss tried to cut her off, only for Yang to jump out of her chair, eyes as wide as the grin on her face.
"You did!"
"... we only just found out."
The brawler's shout of joy was loud enough to send a flock of nearby gulls flying, echoing across the beach as she bolted over to trap her best friend in a bone-crushing hug.
"We were waiting until we got back to tell everyone," Blake choked out, just managing to keep Yang from knocking them both head-first into the grill.
"And you!" Weiss snapped, glaring daggers at the exuberant blonde. "You are absolutely not allowed to tell anyone. Or so help me, I'll-"
Then it was Weiss' turn for a significantly more careful hug that still made her squeak with surprise while Pyrrha clutched her sides, laughter bringing tears to her eyes.
"No one's hearing anything from me," Yang said as she set the smaller girl back on her feet. "But you know I can't keep a secret fr-"
"I will tell Ruby," Weiss countered. "Tonight, if I have to."
"Then we're good. And not tonight. Just, you know, soon." For a split second, Yang seemed to have gotten it out of her system, before throwing her arms back around her best friend and chanting, "Oh my god, I'm gonna be an Aunt!"
"That is not how it works!"
"So, what do you think?" Yang asked late that night.
"About what?" Pyrrha said back, stepping out of the bathroom and adjusting her chemise over her shoulders. Looking over at the bed, she found Yang sitting on the covers, her hands miming a massive belly.
"Subtle," she made a face at Yang, who shrugged and blew a stray lock of hair from her face. "I think they'll make great parents."
"Obviously. Plus, that kid's gonna have the biggest extended family ever. But, that's not what I meant." Biting her lip, Yang sat a little straighter, her face losing a little of the humor it usually had. "I mean, what do you think about kids ... you know, for us?"
"I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself."
"No, I ... this conversation is not going how I thought it would go." Taking a breath, she tugged Pyrrha down onto the bed beside her, weaving her fingers with the redhead's before staring straight into her eyes. "If or when we get married, how would you feel about kids? We haven't really talked about it before."
Pyrrha gazed back at her for a moment, three or four different responses running through her head. A child, at this stage of her career, would probably mean its end. Even if she wasn't the one to have it, if they decided Yang wanted to carry their child, or they wanted to adopt, it still wouldn't be fair to leave Yang with the responsibility of raising a child on her own while Pyrrha was thousands of miles away. And ... and she wanted to be married first. She wanted to get the chance to be selfish, to have Yang to herself before sharing her with someone whose needs had to come first.
But the idea of raising a child with Yang, of making a family with her ... that she liked.
"I'm open to the idea," she said finally, watching the relief spread across Yang's face. "When I'm off the competition circuit. When our lives are a little more stable."
"Although," she murmured, bringing her hand up to cup the back of her girlfriend's neck. "I think I'd enjoy having you to myself for a while before we add another person into the mix."
Yang's grin could lead a nun to sin. "Good answer. So ... someday?"
"Someday. When we're ready."
"Fine by me," the blonde growled, mischief in her eyes. Before Pyrrha could blink, Yang's lips were on her neck, pressing against her pulse and working their way down to her collarbone, whispers tickling her skin. "So, wanna practice?"
"You know it wouldn't work that way for us."
"And that's ever stopped me before?"
Pyrrha pulled back far enough to pull Yang's head up to hers. She still tasted like citrus, lime and lemon clinging to her lips and make her all the more appealing. She smelled of sea air and salt and sunshine, and Pyrrha wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment for as long as she could.
Eventually, Yang pulled away, her eyes darting over to the side before she reached across the bed. Clicking the screen on her phone, she grinned, then lunged back, snuggling into the redhead's side as she held up the small, back-lit screen.
"It's twelve-oh-one," she beamed, beatific in the shadowed room. "It's officially tomorrow. So, happy anniversary."
Taking the phone from her fingers, Pyrrha found Yang's hands, finger twining as she brought the blonde's hand to her lips.
"Happy anniversary, Yang."
Well, hope you liked it. If possible, please leave a review. Even if it's just something short, seeing things pop up make me all warm and fuzzy inside (even is it's constructive criticism, hell, especially if it's constructive.)
Also, this is a submission for the RWBY Summer 2015 contest on DeviantArt, so be sure to check that out - there's some good stuff in there.