A/N: Hello, hello! Welcome back! A successful weekly upload, I'm so proud of myself! Let's keep it up for another ten updates after this.

Fun chapter to write here, as the story properly gets going now. It also evolved quite a lot as I went. The outcome of this chapter in the outline was vastly different from the outcome of the chapter I wrote, and it necessitated a rework of the outline that, I think, will result in a more rounded story. Excitement! I hope this chapter jives with you, I'm a bit worried I lost Blake's character a bit in the middle. I think I reeled her back in though. Let me know, please!

Oh, and to those who reviewed and PM'd regarding the use of Christmas in a world that does not have Christian religion…don't think that hard about it, we're here to have fun.

Chapter 3 (It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas) will be next Thursday. Enjoy!

(And yes, I am aware that the contents of this chapter don't super match up with the context of the chapter title song, but you try thinking up twelve relevant Christmas songs)

Jaune stumbled into the hallway, catching himself against the far wall as his own, clutzy feet betrayed him once again. He had already almost tripped over himself twice on the way from the bed to the door. Blinking, he shook his head aggressively, as if he could physically shake off the early morning haze of sleepiness. It was just past seven-thirty in the morning, and all was quiet in the halls of Beacon. This time of day was abysmally early as far as the current residents of Beacon were concerned. The Academy was a week into their Christmas holiday, and Jaune did not know of anyone else – save a few select teachers – who was up and about this early in the morning. Most students didn't seem to crawl out of their dorms until – at the earliest – ten, and Nora frequently slept in as late as one. Admittedly, she seemed to make up for it by frequently staying up until three. It seemed that without the strict requirements of a school schedule, Nora's sleep pattern was highly erratic. The noise she would make did little to facilitate Jaune's sleep, which made his mornings all the more difficult.

It wasn't that he was looking to get up this early. He certainly wasn't setting his alarm by it. But Jaune was a creature of habit. For the last four months, seven o'clock had been his scheduled waking time. His body was not prepared to entertain an alternative arrangement. The most he had been able to get out of it was an extra half hour, and even that wasn't always the case. Still, Jaune wasn't one to complain. There were certainly bright sides to his early wake-up calls. He enjoyed the lack of noise – the gods knew that Nora more than made up for its absence whenever she eventually woke – and the solitude. Ren, himself a fairly early riser, would usually wake himself up at around nine, but the mornings were Jaune's and Jaune's alone until then. It made for a peaceful breakfast.

Jaune yawned silently as a single hand ran its way through his scraggly hair whilst the other pushed open the door to the kitchen. He shivered lightly, wishing he had thought to borrow Ren's robe. It could have been worse, though. He was forever grateful for the Beacon Dorm's Kitchen. Apparently, in days past, Beacon had not had the large, grand cafeteria that it had today. Each of the Dorms had, instead, had a kitchen, and it was the duty of the individual Teams to feed themselves. It was meant to be yet another practical lesson in self-reliance and independence. The Academy had scrapped the program a few decades ago, preferring to take a greater hand in the healthy feeding of their students, but the kitchens had remained. Ozpin, ever the advocate for cozy, Christmas feelings, had stocked them all for the break, eliminating the need for students to trek across campus to the cafeteria whenever they wanted to eat. Jaune suspected it may also have had something to do with the cafeteria staff not wanting to spend Christmas feeding a handful of students, but whatever the reason, Jaune wouldn't complain. His pajamas weren't exactly thermal, and Vale's winters could be harsh.

Gone were the days of the fuzzy, blue bunny onesie. Nora had divested him of it a few weeks into term, replacing it with one of Ren's unused t-shirts and a pair of gym shorts. Jaune couldn't deny that they cut a better figure for him, but he also couldn't deny how warm the bunny onesie had been. If Nora hadn't thrown it away with prejudice, he would have been tempted to don it again these days.

Stifling another yawn, Jaune set the coffee machine, being sure to overfill the pot with more than he needed. Ren would have begun to stir by the time Jaune returned to their dorm, and his quiet friend enjoyed his coffee even if Jaune had never seen it noticeably affect the boy's energy levels. Serenaded by the quiet trickle of the coffee maker in action, Jaune leaned into his elbows, groaning lightly as he rubbed his hands across his face. He never tried for breakfast before he had, had his coffee. The few times he had, he'd invariably screwed up, the most famous of which had been his 'eggless omelet'. To this day, Saphron would still snort in amusement anytime someone said the word 'omelet' in his vicinity.

Jaune frowned and shook himself. His fingers drummed impatiently against the countertop as the last drops of coffee fell into the now full, steaming pot. He hated it – thinking about them. But he hated hating it more. In his distraction, Jaune was more liberal with his coffee than normal. There wouldn't be as much left for Ren. It would skew the balance of his creamer too, but he was too eager to occupy his hands and didn't care.

The mug he drank from was old – worn and chipped in two places with over half of the Beacon logo having long since faded away. The coffee it currently houses was darker than he preferred and far stronger, but he drank it greedily. It was far too hot, stinging every inch of his mouth and throat as he swallowed, and the taste made his tongue recoil. He drank three long gulps, and when he came up for air, he wasn't thinking of Saphron at all. There were still two sizeable swallows of coffee left, and what was left in the pot was enough to make another cup. Jaune's eyes passed back and forth between his mug and the pot, contemplating. He shrugged. He would have an overlong breakfast, and Ren would be slightly annoyed. Jaune poured the last of the steaming hot pot into his mug and took an immediate sip, uncaring that there may as well not have been any creamer at all in it now. It wasn't too bad. He might could even get used to the taste if he had too.

He was thankful that he did not have to.

"Jaune?"

The blonde choked, the liquid magma of black coffee feeling all the hotter as it sputtered back up his throat. He coughed wetly, trying desperately to hold his mug steady. He largely failed, and large drops of coffee splashed all across the kitchen floor.

"Gyah!" he coughed, turning now watering eyes onto the quietest member of Team RWBY. "B-Blake?"

She was more dressed down than he had ever seen her. Not unlike himself, she was still in her pajamas – a black and white yukata that flattered her, but did not, Jaune guessed, do much in way of warmth. Then again, Jaune was in swishy running pants and a thin t-shirt, so he wasn't one to complain.

She raised a thin eyebrow at him, something akin to amusement dancing in the back of her eyes even if her mouth didn't so much as twitch. Even at eight in the morning, she was as reserved and put together as ever. "Aren't you supposed to let that cool?"

"Huh?" Jaune replied stupidly. He remembered the coffee mug that now sat mostly empty in his hand, its contents poured across his chin, chest and the kitchen floor. He continued, just as dumbly, "Oh! Uhhhh…"

Blake rescued him. "Weiss drinks hers iced."

Jaune grimaced. "That's disgusting." Coriander, his next youngest sister, drank her coffee iced, and it had always been a source of good-natured contention between them. Jaune shook himself, his grimace deepening. "Would you-uh…like some?"

Blake's eyes panned amusedly to the empty pot still held in his other hand.

He blanched. "I can-uh…I can make more," he stammered. "W-won't take a minute. How do you take it?" He set the pot back down in its place, the hotplate beneath it sizzling against the coffee that had drizzled down to the bottom.

"I don't," Blake replied easily. She shrugged at his questioning look. "More of a tea person."

Jaune reached blindly into the overhead cabinet, grasping for one of the paper towel rolls he knew to be housed there. Tearing off three sheets, he dabbed at his face, clearing away the wet rivulets of coffee. He was glad that he hadn't yet showered, or he would likely smell for the rest of the day – though whether it was a good or bad smell was a matter of taste. "Tea," he said slowly. "Uh…okay. I-I've never…that is, I don't know how to…Oh, well I'm sure I could look it up or something."

"I'll make it," she deadpanned, but there was a small smile on her face that betrayed her amusement. She wandered past him like a breeze, as light on her feet in an early-morning kitchen as she was in the middle of a Grimm-filled battlefield. Her hands passed through the cabinets, withdrawing a large teapot and a box of teabags with an ease that indicated her own innate knowledge of the dorm kitchen. Jaune wondered how it was she was so familiar with it. He had not seen her here during any of the previous week's morning breakfasts. Until a minute ago, he hadn't even known she was still at the school and had assumed she'd gone home like most everyone else. As he watched, her hands stuttered for the first time as they reached into one of the overhead cabinets. She turned her face towards him inquisitively. "Would you like some?"

Jaune blinked twice, hypnotized by the amber of her eyes. "Uhh…sure. Yeah. I've never had any. It…sounds good."

Blake withdrew her hand, narrowing her eyes. "You've never had tea?" she asked doubtfully.

Jaune scratched at the back of his neck, releasing a nervous little laugh. "Does-uh…sweet tea count?"

Blake's eyes narrowed even further. "That's disgusting," she said in much the same way Jaune had earlier.

"Right," Jaune drew the word out, his eyes suddenly interested in the floor. "Thanks, I'd love some. Uhh…I'm gonna clean up the…mess I made."

Jaune, the roll of paper towels in hand, crouched and ripped off three sheets. The coffee had splattered all across the floor, even leaping up onto the cabinets in places where it had trickled back down to pool on the edges of the wood. The floor would be unfortunately sticky – Jaune didn't know where any wet wipes were to handle that – but at least it wouldn't slip anyone up. Jaune dabbed up the remnants of his mess in short order, tearing off a further five towels as he did. Above him, the shrill whistle of a hot teapot sounded, and he looked up out of reflex, regretting instantly that he had done so.

Jaune's eyes widened as they met the long, smooth expanse of Blake's legs. He tried to blink but failed. He couldn't look away. His eyes rose, and Blake's legs seemed to rise with them. It seemed as if they didn't have an end, that their length extended forever, a gift for his eyes to enjoy indefinitely. Only when the black hem of her yukata caught his eye did he manage to wrench his gaze away, suddenly aware of exactly what he was doing as well as the trouble that would await him if Blake noticed it.

Jaune didn't know if his gulp was audible, but given that it was Blake, there was an unfortunately large chance that it was. He tried not to think about it.

Jaune shot up fast enough to startle Blake. The Faunus's ears twitched in his direction, and she turned around, a curious look on his face as she took him in. He must have looked ridiculous, standing there with both hands raised, one filled with a thick roll of paper towels, the other holding a soiled pile of used ones. His face was blank but beet red.

She ran his eyes across him. "Are you alright?" she asked dubiously.

"Yepp," he replied instantly.

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh," he said just as quickly.

"Okay," she replied slowly. With two fingers, she lifted the teapot by its handle. "Tea's ready."

"A-awesome," he smiled quite unconvincingly. "Just-uh…I'll throw these away," he slightly raised the damp paper towels, "and put these back," he slightly raised the roll of paper towels, "and-uh…could you…make me a cup…please?"

"Sure," she nodded slowly, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips.

"Awesome," he said again.

She stepped around him, the same ghost of a smile toying with the edge of her lips. Her right hand was dangling beside her hip, her pinky finger wrapped tightly around the thin handles of two pristine teacups while her left hand held the simple, silver teapot aloft as she moved towards the table with effortless purpose. Unbidden, Jaune's eyes tracked her across the room, falling ever downward as she moved farther away.

He again managed to tear himself away, hoping desperately that he was not being as obvious as he obviously was. Subtlety had never been his strong suit. Thyme, his second oldest sister, used to tease him endlessly when she caught him swooning at this girl or that from across the room. Jaune's hand tightened imperceptibly around the soiled paper towels, unwillingly cajoling three further droplets of coffee to fall back to the floor.

All thoughts of Blake and her legs and her – as yet un-ogled – butt gone from his mind, Jaune disposed quickly of his trash and returned the paper towels to their proper place. For the second time this morning, he leaned hard against the counter, this time pressing his weight into the palms of his hands as he breathed out a shaky breath. He did his best to ignore the light tremors running through his hands. Five months at Beacon – four of which had been spent directly under Pyrrha's tutelage, trying to master self-discipline – and he still had yet to get a handle on his fidgets. He just didn't do well with nerves – particularly guilty nerves. They just brought on the shake, usually in his hands. It was a trait he shared with Ginger, another of his sisters –

Jaune released a full-bellied groan, reaching up to run an exasperated hand down his face. He had to stop.

"Are you sure you're alright?" To Blake's credit, she did sound marginally concerned – which, for Blake, likely meant she was very concerned.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice barely audible. He cleared his throat and tried again, turning around to face her as he did. She was, thankfully, face him and the bulk of her legs was hidden by the table, robbing his eyes of their temptation. "Yeah! Just-uh…thinking about," he blanked. "…spices."

This time, Blake raised both of her eyebrows. "Spices?" she echoed, as if she didn't believe him.

"Y-yeah," Jaune stuttered, gulping. "Like…what spices to use in my…eggs? I-I like…pepper…"

Pepper was good. Pepper was safe. Jaune didn't have a sister named pepper.

"Right." Blake's inflections just kept getting slower.

Jaune slumped, releasing a heavy sigh as he properly gave up on coming across as anything other than weird to Blake. On the bright side, the release of his nerves had calmed him somewhat, and he was able to ask his next question without stuttering like a fool. "What would you like for breakfast, Blake?"

"Breakfast?" she echoed, surprise in her voice. "Wha–? You don't have to–"

"Come on," he cut her off, waving aside her concern, "it's the least I could do. You made me tea."

Blake rolled her eyes. "I put a pot of water on the stove and boiled it," she crossed her arms.

"And I appreciate the effort!"

Blake scrutinized him through narrowed eyes. Jaune resisted the urge to shirk away from his gaze, uncomfortably thinking of how ratty and disheveled he must look right now – nothing like Blake. To him, she looked more as if she'd wandered off the pages of a pajama modeling gig. Oh, her hair was everywhere and her yukata was clearly wrinkled from last night's movements, but the sum of these parts was a beautiful grace unlike anything Jaune had ever seen at this hour of the day. She had even tied her bow as immaculately as ever, which Jaune personally thought was just rubbing it in a little bit too much. No bow should be anything other than haphazard at eight in the morning.

Seemingly having come to the conclusion that Jaune was not going to budge on his offer to cook for her, Blake rolled her eyes again, albeit good-naturedly. "Fine," she deadpanned. She gestured vaguely at the arrangement of cups she had made on the table. "But tea first. It's useless cold."

"Just like coffee," Jaune muttered under his breath, Weiss' face flashing through his mind.

By the way she smiled, Jaune surmised that their white-haired friend had passed through her mind as well. "Just like coffee," she echoed.

They sat, and Blake poured, and Jaune tasted. It was…not unpleasant. Certainly, Jaune would never describe it as pleasant. There wasn't enough there to register on either end of the spectrum for him, to be honest. It was alarmingly neutral, lacking in any type of bold flavor that might please or dissuade him. Jaune felt an odd sort of acceptance of such lacking neutrality, and yet tried to rebel against it as well. It tasted as if he ought to not like it but yet couldn't muster up the energy to do so.

"How do you like it?" Blake asked gently.

"It's delicious!" Jaune replied instantly with an enthusiasm he couldn't have been farther from feeling. Purely neutral was his response, a mirror of the flavor of the drink in his hand. He would take coffee any day.

And yet, he would also admit that the smile he received from Blake for his answer was quite energizing in its own, special sort of play. "I'm so glad!" she beamed. Certainly, that wasn't bland. "I tried to get Ruby and Yang into it. They called it boring."

Blake's tone left no illusions regarding her opinion of that descriptor.

"Boring?" Jaune said with a funny little laugh. His stutter returned as he turned his eyes away from hers, hiding his lips behind the rim of his cup. "N-No."

Blake rolled her eyes again. It wasn't at him. "I don't know how Ruby drinks coffee like she does. She puts five sugars in it. At least!"

Jaune grimaced. "That's…gross." Iced coffee or an unholy congealed mass of sugar and liquid caffeine? Perhaps he would choose tea on some days. Jaune took another sip from his cup. Very, very few days, he decided. "What about Yang?"

Blake shrugged. "Yang is a water girl. She doesn't really do caffeine."

"Seriously?" Jaune asked disbelievingly.

The Faunus shrugged again. "I guess she has enough energy of her own."

"And Ruby doesn't?"

"I think Ruby gets all her energy from the caffeine," she smiled.

They laughed, and Jaune self-consciously thought that his own deep throated chuckles were quite grating in comparison to the light, airy noises coming from Blake. For a long while, they sat like that, drinking and thinking in silence. Blake refilled her cup twice over as they sat, the warm metal of the teapot keeping it warm enough for her. Jaune did return for another cup, but it was more out of courtesy than anything. He downed it as quickly as propriety would allow.

Blake seemed perfectly comfortable in the silence – which was very her – having turned her gaze towards the kitchen window. Her amber eyes twitched ever so slightly, tracking unseen shadows in the trees outside, but they seemed content to stay in place. Jaune, alas, was not.

"How come I haven't seen you?" he asked suddenly enough to startle her.

"Hm?" she hummed distractedly, not yet drawn completely from the depths of her thoughts. Her eyes panned lazily over to him. "What do you mean?" She took a sip of her tea.

Jaune shrugged. "I just haven't seen you around. It's been a week, and I didn't even know you were here."

"Have you ventured very far outside your dorm this week?" Blake asked, amused at already knowing the answer.

Jaune opened his mouth, only to close it after a prolonged second of silence. "Err…no, I guess not," he said sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head.

Blake laughed. "I've been in the library mostly," she explained. "There's practically no one there most days. It's quiet."

"Your dorm room isn't?"

"I live beside Nora." She said this a matter of fact, lacking in any emotion.

Jaune laughed, knowing she implied no insult. "She's not as bad as Yang."

Blake hummed her agreement, nodding slowly as she took another sip. "But Yang isn't here," she smiled lightly, "which makes Nora the worst."

Jaune continued to chuckle lightly, having little else to say. This was nice. The clock on the wall above Blake's head read that it was just past 8:20 – longer by far than Jaune usually spent in the kitchen in the mornings. At this rate, Ren would wake up without his usual dose of coffee, but Jaune couldn't bring himself to care all that much. Jaune had never properly spoken to Blake before outside of common courtesies and mission necessities. Here, he found she was actually quite easy to talk to – when he wasn't recovering from eyeing up her legs, that is.

Jaune coughed, shaking away the thought before it could grab hold of him. "So-uh…what about breakfast?"

She tilted her head lightly. "Breakfast?"

Jaune gestured widely at the kitchen around them. "I'm always up around this time," he explained, "but I've never seen you before today. Did you get up early today?"

Blake shook her head. "Late, actually. I'm usually up and have already eaten by now."

Jaune's eyes widened slightly. He had never had any reason to believe the kitchen had ever been used before he got to it in the mornings. The appliances were cool, the sink was empty of dishes and the cabinets always looked undisturbed. However early Blake was getting up, it was clearly early enough that the kitchen had long forgotten her presence by the time he arrived.

"Do you just not sleep!?" he blurted out.

Blake gave a single, silent laugh, her shoulders shaking lightly. She held her teacup in two hands, smirking lightly "Not really," she shrugged. "Not like you do. I take…catnaps."

Jaune blinked and physically pulled away, a sickening fist of apprehension nestling in his stomach. Oh, what had he just unintentionally said to offend her? "Oh, I didn't-uh…That's cool." 'That's cool'!? he mentally screamed at himself.

Blake snorted into her tea, a truly wide smile spreading across her face. "That was a joke, Jaune."

Jaune flushed, and Blake's snort morphed into a full-bellied laugh that, despite his embarrassment, brought a smile to the blonde boy's face. After several moment of pealing laughter, Blake gave a happy sort of sigh, and set her cup down. She smiled across at him.

"I'm just an early riser," she explained. "Usually, I'm up before the sun."

"Why?" Jaune asked. "I mean, yeah, Beacon is…stringent. I get the need to be up early, obviously. But why that early?"

Jaune leaned back in his chair slightly as Blake visibly spaced out. Her eyes, which were ostensibly still looking at him, now seemed to pass straight through him as some long-held memory took over her senses and transported her to the past. Was it his imagination, or had her hand tightened around the handle of her cup? She shook herself, willing the memories away. Her eyes skittered across the top of the table, looking for anywhere to rest that was not him. Jaune flushed again, worried he had hit upon a nerve.

"An old habit," she explained in a manner that was no doubt supposed to be nonchalant. The weight of her words belied the easy tone, however. "We were always moving when I was younger."

Jaune waited for any further elaboration, but none came. He sat and pondered on the words and the girl who had said them, and, in this moment, he realized again how little he actually knew about Blake. She was a kind, reserved, quiet girl who studied hard, enjoyed reading and could fight better than most people in their class save perhaps Pyrrha and Yang. She was a Faunus, and although she was clearly proud of her heritage and her people, she hid it from the world. Jaune's eyes trailed upwards towards the lightly twitching black bow. A draft, he would have convinced himself, if he did not know the truth. It was amazing what one was willing to overlook.

Jaune tapped lightly on the table. "You ready for breakfast?" he asked gently, pushing aside what was clearly an uncomfortable topic.

She looked back up, surprise registering in her eyes for a moment before realization dawned as she remembered. A small smile tugged at her lips. "Sure," she responded. "Eggs?"

"Are you okay with that?"

She nodded. "Of course. With pepper," she winked.

Despite the joke, Jaune frowned lightly, feeling that she was just agreeing for the sake of politeness, rather than actually asking him for what she wanted. Still, he had done the same thing with her tea, and he did not know her well enough to press her about what she actually may have liked to eat for breakfast. He pushed himself away from the table, moving purposefully over to the kitchen counter where he began to remove a series of pans and utensils from the cabinets. From the refrigerator, he withdrew the eggs, a tub of butter and a half-used gallon of milk. There was bacon as well, and Jaune added it to the pile as a necessary side. When his hand reached down into the bottom-right drawer to grab at the bag of shredded cheese, he saw it, and it brought him pause.

For several long seconds, he sat there, staring almost blandly at the piece of food. It was outside his typical wheelhouse and, in fact, not to his personal preference. He didn't want to stumble into a possibly racist comment again, but he would be willing to bet that Blake would be over the moon for the suggestion. He stuffed the handful of ingredients back into the fridge in a haphazard pile, grabbing hold of his new target as he did and turning around.

"I have a new idea!" he declared triumphantly, holding up his prize. "Salmon for breakfast!"

Blake startled, looking up at him as if he were a bit mad. "What?" Her eyes danced back and forth between his face and the fish he held aloft in his hands. Jaune noticed with no small amount of humorous glee that her eyes always seemed to linger a bit on the healthy-looking fish cut in his hands. "For…breakfast?"

Jaune shrugged mightily. "Why not?" He smiled roguishly. "I mean, it's not like there's any actual rules we need to follow about what to eat, right?"

Blake narrowed her eyes. "Do you…know how to make it?"

Jaune smiled. "Yeah! My…my sister, Saphron used to love it when we were younger, and I was the only one who could make it."

With that, Jaune turned his attention to the stove, and he didn't even notice that this time, his hands didn't shake.