Panic - the one word that could completely describe the next four hours.
Blake had rushed out of an angioplasty with ten minutes to spare; she's never scrubbed out faster in her life. Pyrrha was already doing her a favour, letting her leave before they closed the patient. Running through the halls, Sun was standing outside of the resident's locker room to meet her; he pushed open the door as she hurtled through the doorway.
"Looks like someones in a rush," Sun says, smirking as he watched Blake scavenge through her locker. "I thought this wasn't a date?"
Sparing a crucial second, Blake waved him off before returning to her search. "It isn't. But I would not like to be late, it's rude, Sun." She sighed, finally pulling out her black dress from underneath a heap of books. Hastily pulling off her scrubs, she pulled the dress on and jumped to get it over her hips. "Zip me."
Sun obediently followed orders, pulling the zipper up the back of the dress. "I don't know, Blake," he starts, sitting back down onto a bench nearby. "I haven't seen you this excited for just dinner in a while. You don't need to admit it now, but you have to at least say it once you get back." He grabbed the pair of high heels from the open locker and tossed it to her. "I have a feeling that Yang might change your mind."
Blake scoffed, pulling on her heels. "Please, I'm going for a meal and drinks so that she stays out of our ER for good this time. Honestly, I should be compensated by the hospital for the service I'm doing."
She wasn't wrong; Yang is the most frequent visitor they have had in the ER in years - she even has her own folder in the database, one that is several times larger than a normal file. Sun just shrugged, moving out of the way as she passed him towards the bathroom. Blake hastily applied some eyeliner and lipgloss under the blue-tinged lights - it wasn't often that anyone got to see her with anything more than chapstick.
Satisfied with her appearance, Blake grabbed her bag and made beeline for the door with Sun jogging behind her.
"Shit, I'm late." Blake curses, glancing at a clock outside the room's entrance. She picked up the pace, dodging staff and gurneys as the two made their way through the hallways. Turning a corner, Weiss was standing outside a patient's room with a tablet in hand. She turned to what the ruckus was and raised an eyebrow at Blake's appearance when they neared.
"May you enlighten me as to why you are dressed like that?" Weiss asks skeptically, giving Blake a look over. "A bit overdressed for an angioplasty I'd say, but I'm not one to judge." She handed the tablet to the intern she was talking with earlier and he dashed off with it.
Sun jumped in before Blake could respond. "She's going on a date with Yang!"
Annoyed, Blake shoved him out of the way. "No, I'm not. It's just dinner." She says, glancing at the clock again. "A dinner I'm late to."
"If you guys start dating," Weiss starts, looking Blake dead in the eyes. "I don't want that anywhere near me, I've seen enough of Yang for a lifetime. I'll get a restraining order based on psychological distress."
"It's not a date!" Blake protests, ready to argue that fact; before she could descend into heated debate, Sun cut her off and urged her down the hallway.
"Yeah, yeah. We all heard you, just don't bother sneaking her out tomorrow morning." Sun says tiredly - they had been in that situation before, and Blake was definitely less than happy when Sun started up a friendly conversation with her last conquest while they were halfway out the door. "Maybe she'll make us breakfast, she told me that she makes a mean revoltillo."
They finally arrived in the lobby from the elevator exactly seven minutes late. Too anxious to notice the stares she was getting from their fellow riders at her appearance and Sun too nice to mention it - Blake and Sun toppled out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened.
The evenings always had a packed lobby, and tonight was no exception; family members of patients milled around the floor, doctors passing through from the elevators to the main desk. Small groups of nurses were scattered around and chatted quietly among themselves. Blake scanned the room for Yang, looking for her head above the people around her how it usually was.
It only took a few seconds - Yang was sitting in the waiting area absently scrolling through her phone waiting patiently. It was hard not to notice her presence; it was pretty obvious that everyone sitting around her was stealing glances at the girl - Blake could see it from all the way across the room.
"Holy shit," Sun says under his breath, spotting her soon after. He held out his arm to stop Blake before she could start walking to her. "If I had known Yang would be this hot, I would have gone on this date instead of you. Holy Shit!"
For once in his life, Sun was actually right, very much so - Yang did look gorgeous, undeniably so. Wearing a fitted shirt that clung to her form perfectly, worn under a well-loved leather jacket that was left open, Yang didn't leave much to the imagination. Fitted slacks ran down her long legs to thick brown boots that shone under the lobby lights.
A stark contrast to the state that Blake often saw her in the ER in, dusty and bloody, her hair was clean and shining; it fell in a golden mane that spilled down her shoulders around some necklaces and chains that hung around her neck. What a show-off, Blake thought, eyeing the metal. Flamboyant, and it was definitely working.
"One more word and you're homeless." Blake hisses out, shoving him away and quickly making her way over to Yang.
Yang looked up as she approached, not bothering to hide the way she blatantly gave Blake a look-over. She pulled a thumb to her lip, letting her eyes linger as she started to smirk. "If I'd known you'd look like this, damn, I would have asked you out a lot sooner."
Blake rolled her eyes, taking her hand and pulling her up. Even in heels, Yang was still several inches taller in her - a fact that Blake couldn't bring herself to despise, despite her numerous attempts. "Shut up you goof and start walking," she says as Yang shoves her phone into her back pocket. "We're going to miss your reservation that you're so proud of."
"Yes ma'am," Yang says, letting Blake take the lead through the lobby's layout. "And mind you, the reservations I got were very hard to get. I had to wait three weeks to get a table in."
Blake turned back to her surprised. "You planned this almost a month ago?" She asks, genuinely impressed at her determination.
"A long time before that, actually," Yang responds, seemingly proud of her dedication. "One of your friends gave me your schedule so I could plan it out, you're a hard woman to catch, Blake."
"I didn't think you needed a strategy for just dinner," Blake says - teasing was called for for a proclamation like that. "You hiding any deep dark secrets that might hurt your chances?"
Yang laughed with her change in tone. "I definitely don't need one, but you can hear all about it over the dinner I did score."
Passing by, Sun gave them an ecstatic double thumbs up - Blake shot him a discreet middle finger behind her back. He was quickly ushered away by Neptune who was watching the exchange from a ways away.
Compliments were sparing to come by when you spend the significant portion of your day in scrubs covered in blood; Yang slung them into casual conversation like it was second nature, each deepening the shade of Blake's flush one by one. Silently praying that Yang couldn't hear the flutter of her heart that betrayed her unbothered exterior, the pair pushed their way into the warm night air.
It was the first day in several that was without rain, and Yang seemed to have driven her motorcycle here - not that Blake's ever seen her drive anything else. They approached the bike in the parking lot as Yang fished for her keys; it stood out like the sun from the cars around it, a matte gold paint that she swore was faintly glowing.
"That's an...interesting colour choice." Blake comments, never having actually seen the motorcycle before. It was definitely one of a kind and attracted attention like no other - it matched Yang perfectly.
"It'll grow on you, I promise." Yang laughs, pulling on a helmet that hung on its handlebars. She opened the back compartment and produced another helmet and spare leather jacket, handing them over to Blake who took them hesitantly.
This would be the first time she'd ride a motorcycle, also the first time she'd ride one with someone with a very long track history of crashes on said vehicle. Against better judgement, Blake pulled the black helmet over her head. The jacket was a bit small, but served its purpose.
"This is probably your first time on a bike, right?" Yang asks, swinging a leg over the bike and sitting on it. She turned and patted the seat behind her. "The back seat is a little small on this bike, so make sure to hold on tight when we start going." Turning to face forward again, Yang pushed the key into its ignition. "It would be a bit awkward explaining to the restaurant that my reservations now for one if you fell off and died."
"Oh, ha ha," Blake replies sarcastically, copying Yang's movements as best as she could and sitting on the seat directly behind her. She was right - the fit was tight, chest and pelvis pushed right up to Yang's back once Blake moved to sit comfortably. The motor of the bike roared to life as Yang turned the key, lights switching on.
Yang had to raise her voice to be heard over the engine. "Wrap your arms around my waist, no need to be shy, so squeeze tight." She practically yells. "I promise you it won't be anywhere as tight as how Ruby held on during her first time riding."
Blake did as she said, wrapping her arms around Yang's waist - she barely even noticed that they started moving, too occupied by the feeling of the taut muscle beneath her arms and hands.
The air was cool as they pulled out of the parking lot, a smoother ride than she's ever experienced in any car - much less with Sun as a driver. The engine quieted down significantly since it was first revved, calming down to a gentle roll as they picked up speed. It was intoxicating, the feeling of the wind streaming around them, the street lights that whizzed past, the warmth that radiated from Yang that kept her warm against the chill. An unnaturally warm warmth - Blake made a mental note to get her checked at the hospital for it next visit.
Next visit - she thought about it for a few moments, letting the phrase settle. The night was dark around them and silent, alone together on the road as the lights of downtown revealed themself over the horizon. This date - no, dinner - was supposed to keep Yang out of the hospital, not back in. No next visits, she repeats to herself, less as a statement but more as a last-ditch effort to convince herself.
And so, Blake was unimaginably pissed.
Pissed at Yang, the way she pulled out her chair for her, the leather jacket that complimented her softly tanned skin perfectly, the blinding smile she flashed every time she looked her way. Her dress pants fit much too well to not admire, something that Blake took the leisure to do as Yang talked to the hostess as they arrived at the restaurant.
Appreciation was not an admittance of attraction, she decided for the sixth time that night already.
The restaurant was much more classy than what Blake had expected from Yang, who she saw often covered in dirt, blood, occasional lake water, and wearing the same ruffed up outfit. They arrived in the upper West side of the city after a 20-minute ride, parking the bike underground.
("Keep the jacket on while we go in, it might get cold later." Yang says as they pull off their helmets. She laughs as Blake gets her earrings caught on the helmet and gently lifts it off her head. "Maybe you should keep it, it would be a shame for you not to, now that I know how hot you look in it."
"Real classy, Yang." Blake cuts back, ready to deflect the compliment for safe measure. "I just hope this isn't the one you wore when you nearly drowned in that lake three weeks ago. I had to resuscitate you three times."
Yang laughs heartily as they start to leave, thoroughly entertained by the incident. "My hero.")
Located on the 12th floor of a high-rise building, the restaurant boasted open-air seating on its side that showcased what seemed to be the best view you can get of the city - at least, that's what the website said after Sun and her research.
They approached a hostess behind the lacquered wood podium in the receiving area.
"Reservation for two for Xiao Long." Yang says, showing a small printout she produced from her back pocket.
The woman nodded, leading the way between various tables and decoration fixtures towards the balcony.
"After you," Yang says with a smirk. How cruel.
The night air was warm and permitted, or rather, gave Blake no excuse not to wear her nice dress, the one chosen by Sun the night before. She shuddered at the memory of the man shoving himself into her apartment again. He spent ten minutes babbling incoherently after seeing the price range of the restaurant that Yang was bringing her to and wouldn't leave until Blake agreed to actually wear something nice.
She shoved the thought to the back of her mind, focusing on the task at hand. Make polite small talk, be pleasant, be charming, but not too charming - things that she's had much practice doing throughout her childhood, university, and medical school. But she knew that this evening was different, much different from what she's had to navigate through before. Sun was right - Yang was having an effect on her no matter how much she tried to deny it.
Blake's mind was uncharacteristically empty while they sat in comfortable silence reading their menus. The live jazz music was tasteful and filled up whatever spaces were left from the polite but sparse banter she indulged in. Yang was absently flipping through the pages, looking as handsome as ever.
Scratch that - this is the girl that stares at her chest when she thinks she isn't paying attention.
Presentable - that's all Blake will allow herself to give her. But it seems like the stolen glances of surrounding diners catching a peek at Yang was saying otherwise, at curves that didn't show themselves under hospital gowns, eyeliner that wasn't smudged with dirt or dust.
The waiter arrived, setting down a fancy-looking bottle of wine and holding a small notebook for their orders. "Welcome to Gitanes," he says pleasantly, looking between the two. "I hope you two ladies are having a wonderful night. What may I get you both tonight?"
Yang folded her menu and set it down on the table. "The cassoulet, please." She says, glancing over at Blake who was still staring intently at her menu. God, what even are half the things on this menu, what the hell is a blanquette.
"The uh-, tartiflette for me." she says quickly, after realizing the two were staring at her. Blake cleared her throat awkwardly which earned her a knowing smile.
The waiter took their menus, poured their wine, and left with a curt nod much too quickly than Blake would have liked. There went her conversational crutch, and Yang's gaze was very apparent on her.
The blonde smiled, leaning back in her chair. She had to know what she was doing, the way her shirt shifted over her form, showing the curve of her chest and contours of her toned stomach. An illegal move, Blake deemed - one that must be avoided at all costs for the rest of the evening.
"So, tell me about yourself, now that we're finally out of the emergency room," Yang says after a moment, looking over at her innocently enough. "Any deep dark secrets that you hold close to your heart?"
Blake stifled a laugh and took a sip of her wine. Not only did the bottle look expensive, it tasted expensive too - expensive enough to make her regret taking such a hasty drink. "I thought I agreed to dinner, not a date." she says while meeting Yang's gaze.
"Oh come on, humour me."
Blake rolled her eyes and put down her glass. "Alright, fine. What do you want to know."
Yang smiled, finding some entertainment in tugging the girl around in her game. Charisma was oozing off her in threateningly large amounts, enough to coax Blake to lower her guard, if only just slightly. "Maybe your last name? If you'd be so kind."
"Belladonna." Blake replies, too caught up in the moment to realize she wears a name tag every day to work.
Yang faked a swoon, draping a hand over her forehead. Her fingers were covered in silver rings that caught the soft lighting of the candle on their table. "Blake Belladonna, now I finally have a name to put to that pretty face." She laughs before adding "Guess I have to retire 'that one hot doctor' now."
Blake bit back her own remark, feigning normalcy despite the warmth that tinged her cheeks. "I'd ask you for yours, but I'm pretty sure I know everything there is to know about you already from your medical records."
"How many times have I broken my left wrist?" Yang says quickly, shooting the question at Blake without warning.
"Three times." She answers calmly, watching as Yang's face lights up in surprise.
"Shoulder dislocations?"
"One on the left, two on the right, with one additional partial dislocation last month."
Yang couldn't hide her look of amazement as her eyes caught a mischievous tint and Blake couldn't help but be amused at her excitement over a basic requirement for her job; walk you through step-by-step of a heterotopic heart transplant? Now that's a real challenge.
"What food am I allergic to?" Yang asks, seeming as if she had caught her on this one.
"Trick question, you're not allergic to any foods. You are, though, allergic to penicillin."
Yang opened her mouth to shoot her another question, but the waiter returned with their food before she could finish her remark. The pair immediately sat up straight once he approached, pretending like they hadn't just gone through a comprehensive list of Yang's medical history.
The food was incredible, although anything would probably taste amazing in contrast to the hospital cafeteria's food. The residents tried to convince Weiss to influence the next term's budget one time by saying that some of the pediatrics department's funds could be 'reallocated' towards the cafeteria, but she responded with, quote, "I will not sacrifice babies for a mac and cheese Monday."
Maybe it was how good her meal was, or maybe the glasses of wine that she's already drunk that made Yang that much more tolerable; she was funny, actually, and mesmerizingly charismatic. She made conversation over a $100 meal seem like second nature.
"Well, we all met each other during med school orientation," Blake says while they eat when Yang brings up her friends. "Would you believe me if I said that Sun practically didn't wear a shirt for three semesters straight?"
"Based on the few times I've seen him, that is entirely believable," Yang says with a chuckle. "Went to school somewhere tropical?"
"We were down in Menagerie, as tropical as it gets. I stayed near home for school from Kuo Kuana, the first time I saw snow was when I came to work at Beacon." Blake says, thinking fondly of her hometown. She turned the conversation back to Yang, interested in her own backstory. "What about you? Where are you from?"
"I'm from this little farm down in Patch, but I have roots up in Puerto Rico," Yang beams, proud of her heritage. At second thought, it did seem apparent - the delicate tan of her skin seemed to not just be a stubborn suntan from last summer.
"Do you speak the language?" Blake asks curiously.
" El inglés es mi segundo idioma, la gente no se da cuenta muy a menudo ." Yang responds back with a smile. She spoke with an accent virtually untraceable whenever she spoke English, fluid and low - it fit her much better than English did, surprisingly.
"Damn, maybe I shouldn't have dropped grade 12 Spanish class after all." Blake says with a grin.
"Spanish is my first language, I'm half Puerto Rican," Yang responds with a laugh. "But people usually don't believe me until I actually start speaking it, they don't suspect it with my blonde hair."
Now that she thinks about it, maybe she has heard Yang speak Spanish before. There was one night several weeks ago when Yang was brought to the ER on a gurney with a nasty face lac - someone that night was shouting in angry Spanish of what Blake could only assume was a long string of some very creative curses. As soon as the voice disappeared into a trauma room, a Spanish ER nurse muttered a small prayer and rushed to the church in a hurry, clearly distraught.
Almost two hours had passed, time that seemed to fly past without a care in the world. Blake laughed, a lot, something she didn't expect out of this night. They played their conversation back and forth between bites of food as if it just made sense, talking about whatever came to mind, whatever was worth a thought.
Yang has a sister who has their mom's hair and an uncle whose sharp tongue got him banned from several institutions - Blake practically raised Sun during their early twenties and is the legal godmother to his nephew, however that makes sense. Yang challenges it by standing up and showing the large tattoo of a dragon covering her back, its horns curling up to the nape of her neck - Blake shoots back by showing a large scar on her abdomen from being stabbed by a psychotic patient, then turns around and shows the scar of the exit wound.
The people sitting near them accepted the fact that both of them were crazy and continued eating their meals unbothered.
Blake found the bottom of her plate much earlier than she had anticipated, too busy having fun and horrifying restaurant staff. Disappointment welled at the thought of the night starting to end, but Yang seemed to be even more energized.
"Don't even think of trying to pay, dinners on me." Yang says as she sets down her utensils, finishing the last of the wine in her glass. "I was the one to invite you out, anyways. Being my eye candy will pay enough."
"Are you sure? It's awfully expensive-" Blake starts, thinking back to the prices that had made her and Sun gawk the night before.
Yang laughs, catching the attention of a few diners around them for what felt like the tenth time that night. She smiled like she knew this conversation would come up. "I know you've only seen me in my dirty biking clothes, but I'm not short of money. I own a business, you know."
The waiter came back with the bill which Yang didn't even glance at - she reached into her jacket's breast pocket and pulled out a neat stack of bills. Cash, she paid for the entire bill in cash. Whoever of the surrounding diners that weren't already looking over at Yang definitely turned now.
"Yang flashed a brilliant smile at the waiter, who quickly shuffled away with a look of utter bewilderment. "Anyways I have...other sources of income as well." she draws out, a smirk starting to form.
Blake simply rolled her eyes at her. "You're so unbearably cocky and I have no idea how you get away with it," she says languidly. "You must have a hell of a crowd waiting to kill you all the time."
"Maybe I do and they already have, fancy having dinner with a ghost?"
"A ghost would know how to shut up better than you."
Yang held out a hand and Blake took it without a second thought, getting up and heading towards the door. The night wasn't even halfway done, they still had drinks after this. To think that this was the same girl in the ER just last night, the one that came in several times a month for stitches, that got freakin' escorted out the day before.
Blake changed her goals that night, a tactful decision for the new situation on hand.
She changed her goal from simply putting up with the reckless and charismatic flirt to just surviving , a task that Yang proved to make much more difficult than she anticipated.