Crème de Rose
Ruby sat in darkness, wrapped in a thick black-and-red bathrobe that trailed to her toes, eyes flicking from the TV to the front door. Every so often, she would shift, trying to get a better view, a better look down the hallway. Her knee bounced, the building tension finding no release other than her constant fidgeting. She was waiting, and Ruby Rose was bad at waiting.
Biting her lips, she glanced back at the TV, trying to trick herself into being interested in ... it took her a second to remember what she was watching. It was a singing contest, well into the latter half of the season when the competition got fierce. The judges were talking about something, or at least it sounded like they were, evaluating the last singer's performance and giving the audience time to vote.
Ruby couldn't even remember what song they'd sung. Weiss had been gone all day, and the wait was getting to her.
It was almost midnight when the door finally clicked open, a spear of light shooting in from the hallway. Then Weiss closed the door behind her, and darkness returned. Ruby jerked to life like a scent hound, muscles quivering as she scrambled to her feet, eyes trained on the hallway. It took everything she had to not run over at meet Weiss at the door. But that wasn't the plan. It wasn't what she needed, as much as she might want to. So she waited, her foot bouncing impatiently while the sound of boots unzipping and winter clothes being shed filled the room.
Ruby breathed a sigh of relief when stockinged feet padded down the hallway. Weiss hadn't bothered with the light, and it was still dark when she stepped into the main room to find Ruby standing by the sofa, watching her with worried eyes.
As worked up as she was, Ruby still caught Weiss' wince when she saw her. Noticed the way she froze then looked down and away, looked anywhere, at anything, but her. That hurt, more than she expected it to.
"You didn't have to wait up for me," Weiss said softly, then stepped around the sofa, eyes trained on the kitchen island.
"No, I ..." Ruby started, before her voice caught in her throat. Swallowing, she watched while Weiss made her way over to the fridge, pulling out the water filter and pouring herself a glass.
The younger girl cleared her throat and tried to push away her nerves. She needed to make herself sound sure, stern, confident, even as every fiber of her being trembled with anxiety. She needed to sound like Yang, unflappable and unstoppable.
She almost managed it. "We need to talk," she said, proud that her voice over wavered on the last word.
Weiss glanced at her, then set her glass aside. "I'm sorry, I'm just ... very tired right now. I don't feel up to talking."
Ruby blinked and took a breath. This was fine. She'd planned for this, in case Weiss tried to slip away. Time for Plan B.
"T-then you can listen," she said, sternly. This was it. She was putting her foot down, no matter how much Weiss wanted to avoid this.
Weiss looked at her with an expression that made Ruby wonder if she'd grown a second head. Determined and trying to stay that way, she sat down on the sofa and flicked on a lamp before patting the seat beside her. It wasn't a question, or a request. It couldn't be – Weiss would have ignored those. She just needed to stay strong, keep her wits about her. Then Weiss would listen and they ... she didn't know what they'd do. But it had to be better than this.
Weiss barely made a sound as she crossed the room. Gingerly, as if the cushions might open and devour her whole, she perched on the edge of the couch, her eyes still looking at anything other than the girl across from her.
"Something's wrong," Ruby said, doing her best to be direct. "The past couple days you've barely looked at me, barely spoken to me. I ..." she trailed off.
This was hard, harder than she'd thought. She planned out this whole thing, had every word etched into her brain. She'd practiced it over and over, trying to figure out the best way to say how she felt, what she needed. But now, with Weiss sitting beside her, she couldn't remember a damn thing.
"I'm worried," she said, needing to say something and grabbing at the first thing that came to mind. "I feel like you're pushing me away and I don't ... I don't want that."
"I'm fine, Ruby," said Weiss. "It's just been a rough couple of days."
Ruby and Weiss had been together over a year. They'd lived together for months, spent days in each other's company. She'd seen Weiss stressed and happy and overworked. She knew what a worn-out and weary Weiss looked like. She also knew what it looked like when Weiss tried to lie. Ruby didn't believe a word of it.
"No. Something is wrong. And whatever it is, you don't wanna tell me." Ruby watched and waited, looking for Weiss' reaction. Something. Anything.
"It had something to do with the tournament on the weekend." She watched the heiress cringe, her shoulders hunched as her body fought to curl in on itself. Not much – someone who didn't know her wouldn't have noticed. But Ruby did.
"... was it something I did?" Ruby asked softly, having to ask and dreading the answer. "Something I said? Were you-"
"No." Weiss cut her off, voice raw and ragged, hands tightened into white-knuckled fists on her lap. Ruby pulled away, hearing enough anger in that voice to startle her. Just a quickly, it vanished. The tension slipped from Weiss' spine, her fingers unclenching slowly as the blood rushed back.
When Weiss spoke again, her voice was calm. "No, Ruby. You didn't do anything. I ..." she trailed off, head still bowed.
"Okay," Ruby breathed. She didn't know what to make of what she'd just seen. She'd seen Weiss angry before, usually at someone or something who deserved it, but not like this. "That's good. Not that you won't talk to me, but that it's not ... me."
She floundered, trying to think of something to say, something that didn't sound so ... stupid. Weiss didn't save her. For a long while, the two just sat there, Ruby biting her lip and watching Weiss, the heiress just staring at her hands.
"Look," she started, when she had the courage. "I-I'm not saying you have to tell me. I don't ... I don't need to know, but I need you to know that I don't need to know, and you deserve to know that I'm okay with not knowing if you ..." Ruby heard her own babbling and stopped. This is working. None of this is. I can't ... she needs to hear something and whatever it is, I don't know it.
"I wish you'd let me help you."
Another wave of tension rolled through Weiss' shoulders. The girl looked like tree, bent too far by the wind and straining to stay upright. One gust, one way or the other, and she'd snap or whip back into the face of it. Ruby had no idea which it would be.
"Could you turn around?" she said, when Weiss refused to answer.
"Why?"
"Just do it. Please?"
Weiss glanced at her. For a split second, ice-blue eyes met gray. Something was there – something dark and heavy – but for the life of her, Ruby couldn't read it. Then Weiss turned, putting her back to the silver-eyed girl with red streaks in her hair. And in that moment, that brief span or weakness, of vulnerability, Ruby press against her back and hugged her tight.
"Please don't freeze me out," she said as soft as she could. "It's not ... you don't have to tell me, but I wish you would. It hurts seeing you like this."
She half-expected Weiss to shudder, to have some horrified reaction to being touched. That was how it had gone sometimes, when she let herself imagine the worst. That Weiss would struggle free and leave without a word.
Instead, Weiss ... relaxed. There wasn't another word for it, not one Ruby could think of anyway. She just went limp. The coiled tension, the stress that had knotted itself inside her bones, just drained away, leaving a still, unmoving young woman held tight in her arms.
"Ruby, I don't," Weiss stopped, and took a breath. "I don't talk about my family much, and I truly appreciate that you don't ask."
She paused. "Growing up, my father was very demanding. He had high standards. He wanted the best for me, for Winter. So we had to give him our best, in everything. When you grow up with that sort of parent, you learn very quickly that anything less than your best isn't enough. And sometimes even that doesn't meet their standards. That sometimes, you're just a disappointment."
Weiss started to move. Before she could stop herself, Ruby held her tighter, fearing the worst. Instead, Weiss stopped and turned her head, just enough so Ruby could see the side of her face. "I don't ... you're a moron if you think you let me down just because you didn't win."
Ruby couldn't believe it. All of this, all of this, days of worrying and wondering, over something so ... something so small. Something that didn't matter in the least? "That's what this is about?" she asked, unable to stop herself.
She regretted it almost immediately. Pressed against her back, Ruby was intimately aware as the tension shot back up Weiss' spine, settling her shoulders as the young woman drew back into herself.
"Ruby, I don't, I can't ..." she trailed off, then went stiff. "Let me go."
Her voice was hard. Harsh. It was a demand, and Ruby obeyed, even if she hated it. She let go.
Weiss turned, her jaw set, her eyes two points of ice.
"I can't become my father. I can't become the kind of person who makes others feel small just by being around them. I don't want to put another person through that. And if I'm doing that to you, if I'm pushing you too hard, if you could think I'd be angry or disappointed in you for something so ..." She stopped, and clenched her jaw so tight Ruby feared her teeth might break. "Then this needs to end. I won't do that to you. I won't-"
"No." Ruby cut her off.
Weiss' brows tightened as she scowled. "Ruby-"
"Weiss, I don't really like losing. I'm human. And when I did, I got annoyed with myself 'cause I thought I could've beaten her. It wasn't anything you did." Ruby took a breath. "I just felt shitty about losing. Especially when I wanted you to be proud of me."
Sighing, Ruby pulled Weiss to her. She was too short, and ended up burying her face in Weiss' shoulder rather than the other way around. Still, it worked well enough. She needed the connection more than anything, the reminder that she was there. That Weiss was there. That even if she only had a rough idea of what might be wrong with Weiss, that even if she was pretty sure there was a whole heap of things Weiss wasn't telling her, that she was still here. That neither of them, no matter what Weiss thought, was going anywhere.
"I'm sorry."
Weiss went rigid. "Don't apologize, you d-"
"I'm sorry about your dad."
It took a long time for Weiss to answer. Ruby held her and waited, leaning against her, pressed into the crook of her shoulder.
"I like fencing with you." The older girl's voice cracked ever so slightly when she spoke. "I like training you. I like that it's something we share, but if I'm putting any pressure on you-"
Ruby reached up and placed her hand against Weiss' chin. As gentle as she could, she tugged, brought Weiss' mouth to hers, and kissed her silent.
"Weiss, you're a great trainer. And a great girlfriend. And I didn't mean to remind you of your father."
They stayed like that, pressed together, Ruby's head resting against her girlfriend's neck. Weiss' ponytail hung down by Ruby's face, leaving strands of hair to flick every so often across her nose. She ignored them, and nuzzled closer, not trusting herself to get the words right, to know how to say what she was feeling. So she held her tighter, closer, refusing to move for anything until two arms came up and slid around her back.
Ruby's heart soared as Weiss embraced her back, her head coming down to rest atop the shorter girl's, Weiss' nose pressed against her hair. She didn't let go until Weiss did, and even that was reluctant. Glancing up at the other girl's face, Ruby looked away. She didn't think Weiss would want her to see the tear streaks that ran down her cheeks.
"I need to take a shower." Weiss' voice was husky, but the words came out clear and steady. That was good – no cracking, no tension. Less of it, anyway.
"Okay." Ruby nodded. "I'll wait up for you."
Weiss blew out a short huff of air as she stood, looking exasperated. "You don't have to do that."
"I know." Ruby smiled and squeezed Weiss' hand. "I want to."
If Yang hadn't ducked into the back for another case of beer, she would have missed the sight of Pyrrha at the other end, speaking softly to her bartender as she paid out her tab at the end of the night.
Letting the case thump onto the ground, Yang made her way across the bar, nodding her acknowledgement when one of the patrons tried to catch her eye. She'd seen him – knew he was there. She'd get to him when she had a chance, and when Pyrrha wasn't about to vanish.
"Were you gonna leave without saying goodbye?" she asked, ignoring the surprised look the younger bartender shot her before passing Pyrrha the receipt to sign.
The redhead didn't even look up, fumbling with the pen before scrawling her name across the scrap of paper. "Need to head home."
Yang frowned and looked the older woman over. Pyrrha seemed steady, steadier than some of the customers she'd seen stagger out of her bar late at night. Her words weren't too slurred, her hands weren't too clumsy as she passed the pen back. Still, there was something about the way she carried herself, the way she leaned against the bar that gave Yang the impression it was the only thing keeping her upright.
"Let me call you a cab."
Pyrrha shot Yang a blank look, then turned away. "I'm fine, Yang. Honest."
She nodded back to the woman by the cash machine, putting her weight on her arm as she moved. For a second, everything seemed fine. Suddenly she leaned too hard and slipped, her hand sliding off the polished wood and dropping down beneath the bar. Pyrrha followed, her whole body dropping several inches as it took the weight out from under her.
Yang moved, trying to catch her, keep her from bashing her head on the wood, but Pyrrha caught herself in time. Her other hand slammed into the wood before she could fall, stopping her from crashing to the floor. There was a long pause as the three of them stood still, Yang watching Pyrrha, ready to catch her if she slipped again.
Pyrrha stood, more carefully this time, and let out a long, slow breath. "Thank you," she said, nodding to the bartender, then took her copy of the receipt. She smiled politely, then turned, feet carrying her over towards the coat-rack.
She staggered on the fourth step. This time, Yang was ready. In an instant, she was out from behind the bar, reaching out one hand to gently cup beneath Pyrrha's arm, the other ready to grab her more securely if the redhead slipped any further.
"I really am fine, Yang," she said quietly, once her balance returned.
Yang knew a lie when she heard one. Especially one as blatant as that. Yes, Pyrrha probably could make it home on her own and yes, she would probably be fine. That didn't mean she wouldn't half-kill herself on every patch of ice between the bar and her apartment.
"Do me a favor? Let me walk you home," Yang asked, keeping a steadying hand on the redhead's arm. "Please? Otherwise, I'll be worried the whole night wondering if you made it back or got your tongue stuck to a lamppost."
As jokes went, it was a weak one. Pyrrha looked down at Yang's hand, holding her eyes there long enough to make Yang wonder if she should to back away. She almost did, almost let go and tried to find some other way to make sure the other woman got home safe, before she saw the small nod Pyrrha gave her.
She sighed with relief. "Thank you." Keeping one hand on Pyrrha's arm, she turned back to her bartender. "Gwen, you got this?"
The dark-haired woman gave a quick look over the bar. This late, things were already starting to die down. Most of the younger crowd had already gone, those still remaining were regulars or finishing their last drinks. There was still an hour before last call, but it didn't look like anything her staff couldn't handle.
"Don't worry, boss," she said, giving Yang a sure nod. "We'll be fine."
It was only a twenty minute walk to Pyrrha's apartment building. Yang whistled when she saw it. She'd seen the jagged shape of glass and steel that jutted up into the air – it was impossible to miss – but she'd never known that was where Pyrrha lived. It's a bit much, she thought, staring up at the new-age ... she wasn't sure what shape it was. Some oddly-formed wedge that somehow managed to stay upright.
As drowsy as she was, Pyrrha still remembered the keypad code for the building, but from exhaustion of alcohol, she kept missing the keys. After the fourth try, Yang took pity on her and typed it in herself. With a beep and a click, the door opened, and Yang bundled them both into the heated lobby.
Pyrrha lived on the twelfth floor. Luckily for both of them, the elevator was empty and the doorman's suspicious look cut off when Pyrrha greeted him warmly, her careful words free of slurring. Satisfied her wits were about her and that the blonde looked more helpful than threatening, he went back to his crossword. Nudging her along, Yang got her into the elevator and thumped the button.
Finally they were there, Yang waiting patiently while Pyrrha fumbled with her key. This time, she managed it on the third try, the key sliding into the lock with a satisfying click.
"There we go," Yang smiled, one hand ready just in case she staggered again. "Mind if I come in?"
"Yes." Pyrrha said as she walked through the doorway. Then she paused, her brow furrowed. "I mean, no. I ..." She trailed off, a distant look in her eye. With a shake of her head, it cleared, and Pyrrha pressed a hand against her no-doubt aching forehead.
"In. Please."
Still watching in case she fell, Yang followed her into the apartment, moved the keys into the basket when Pyrrha missed, when shut the door behind them. Hitting the lights, she turned and stared.
The place was nice, opening up into a sprawling living room with curtained windows that looked out onto the street. The walls were a slight off-white, a hint of blue or grey rather than eggshell, making a nice contrast with the dark slate kitchen that sat off to the side. The furnishings were pleasant, well-used and well-cared for, giving the place a homey feel it would have lacked without them. It was clean, but not spotless, and Yang spotted at least one empty container of take-out sitting in the garbage can by the kitchen sink.
"Nice place," she said, helping Pyrrha forward as they made their way to the sofa. "Mind if I get you some water?"
She didn't. Once she was sure the redhead was settled against the cushions, Yang slipped into the kitchen nook, stared in mistrust at the oddly-shaped water faucet, then managed to fill a glass.
She had to wrap Pyrrha's fingers around the glass before the other woman realized what she held. At least she was able to drink it herself, raising it to her lips with a steadier hand than Yang expected and downing a third of it in one swig.
"Alright," Yang took a breath and bent down to unzip the redhead's boots. "Let's get the coat and boots off, at least. Then more water. Then we get you to bed."
Pyrrha nodded, then took another sip, her eyes unfocused as she slumped against the couch. "Thank you. For taking care of me."
"Happy to help," Yang said, meaning every word. "I'll stay for a little bit. Make sure you're okay, then I'll head out. That alright?"
Pyrrha nodded again, her head bobbing low enough to make Yang wonder if she was falling asleep. "Thank you."
"No worries ... can I ask what this was about? You usually don't come in trying to wreck your liver."
When she didn't answer, Yang shut up. She wasn't going to press her, not now anyway, and not like this. Not while she could barely keep her eyes open. Yang was worried, the same kind of worried she'd be for any friend who nearly drank themselves under the table, but Pyrrha needed rest. Anything else – the questions, her curiosity, her worries – that could wait.
Seeing the glass was empty, Yang took it and headed back to the kitchen. By the time she came back, Pyrrha was completely still, her chest rising steadily in slow, even breaths.
Yang shook her head and sighed. She would be cute, the blonde mused, finding a coaster and leaving the glass on the side table. Even like this. Leaning down, she slid one arm around Pyrrha's back, moving slow to keep from waking her.
"Alright. Time for bed."
Pyrrha stirred, lids opening slightly. She blinked up at Yang, her face calm and solemn, her eyes sad.
"You're beautiful," she said, the last word only slightly slurred.
"Nice." Yang laughed, then smiled. "That means a lot, coming from you."
"I mean it."
Yang rolled her eyes. She'd heard more than enough drunk talk in her time. "Hope you know I'm legally required to tease you about this when you're sober."
Pyrrha nodded again, her head bobbing, then jerked forward. Swearing, Yang lunged for the trash can. The couch looked expensive, and if Pyrrha was going to be sick ...
Yang froze. The retching she expected hadn't come. Instead, Pyrrha had leaned in, and pressed her lips gently against Yang's cheek. Too startled to move, Yang stayed there, paralyzed, while Pyrrha embraced her, one hand cupping her chin before the redhead pulled away.
"You're drunker than I thought." She laughed, her nerves singing, wishing her heart would stop racing. The pounding was filling her ears, making it hard to think.
"Prob'ly." Pyrrha nodded, her eyes bleary. "Still ... you're beautiful."
Yang's eyes went wide, her heart beating double-time in her aching chest as Pyrrha leaned in, her eyes closed, her lips less than an inch from Yang's own ... and stopped.
The blonde's hand was on her shoulder, holding her in place, keeping her from a making the kind of mistake both of them would regret the following morning. Even just a kiss. Especially a kiss – Yang didn't know what that would mean for them.
Keeping her hand between them, Yang bit her cheek, trying to get her breathing under control. It was coming in short, shuddering breaths, matching her racing mind as she tried to make sense of what just happened. This wasn't at all what she expected when she offered to walk Pyrrha home. She just wanted to make sure she got home alright, that her friend was safe. Something like this ... it had been the last thing on her mind.
But Pyrrha had kissed her. Kissed her twice – or tried to, at least. If that wasn't a sign ...
Yang's lips were dry when she opened them, her words hesitant and careful. "Look, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want this. And if you were sober I'd let you in a heartbeat." She sighed. "You're fun and amazingly attractive, but this wouldn't be fair to either of us."
She never expected to say any of this. Never expected to have to. Pyrrha had made her reservations clear, and Yang respected that. But here she was, kissing her cheek, trying to kiss her. "You're not in any shape to make a decision like that right now. So, let's get you to bed? You sleep this off, and ... we can talk about this in the morning." She cleared her throat. It was tight, making it hard to speak, to say what she had to.
"We will talk about this. Okay?" She paused, waiting for an answer. "Pyrrha?"
Limp in her arms, her chin resting against her collarbone, Pyrrha took in a short, shallow breath ... and snored.
Yang gaped, amazement and disbelief coursing through her in equal measure. Then she chuckled and shook her head. That would teach her to say shit like that.
Hefting the older woman in her arms, Yang carried her down the hall, eventually finding the bedroom a few doors down. With one hand, she yanked the covers back, the slid Pyrrha onto the mattress, taking just enough time to pull her arms out of her coat. Slinging it over one arm, she levered the redhead's legs onto the bed, shifted the pillow into a better position, and flicked the covers back over her.
Still shaking her head, Yang went back to hand the coat on the rack in the hall and move the boots to stand by the door. Grabbing a chair and a trashcan was in case Pyrrha woke up sick, she hauled them back to Pyrrha's room and sat, watching the redhead sleep, wondering what in the world she would say when they saw each other again. What Pyrrha would say.
Hours later, when she was sure Pyrrha was going to sleep through the night, when she was sure she would be fine, Yang rose from the chair and left. She scrawled a quick note, left it on the kitchen counter, and slipped silently out the door.
Author's Note: Hopefully this delivers on what people were hoping for in resolving the Whiterose plot a bit. And moving along the Greekfire one.
Now, if you can spare a second, PLEASE take the time to leave a review. I love hearing what readers have to say, even if it's just a word or two saying if they liked it. Those kinds of things, the response, tells me when people are engaging with stuff and tells me when my writing works or doesn't. The reviews and comments on this have been great so far, so thank you all for reading.