AN: Cover image courtesy of NDGD.
It was late and the others were asleep. Ruby slowly descended from the top bunk, afraid of waking her partner. She shouldn't have bothered; Weiss slept like the dead. The other half of their team not so much. Luckily, Blake had taught her a thing or two about moving silently, so she was out the door and standing in the lonely, dimly lit corridor in a few minutes.
"Ah, crap," she whispered, wiggling her toes against the carpet, "forgot my slippers."
She thought about going back for them but ultimately discarded the idea. Wiser not to risk it. Ruby wasn't in the mood for the interrogation that would no doubt follow discovery—even if she wasn't doing anything bad.
Padding over to the adjacent door, she listened in on Team JNPR. Nora snored like a chainsaw, drowning out her teammates. Ruby shook her head and walked down the corridor till she encountered the staircase leading up to the rooftop. She took the steps two at a time and lingered near the open doorway, which swung gently at the behest of late summer winds. Past it was motion, the tamping of feet, masculine grunts and a blade swooshing through the air.
Ruby stepped forth and peered through the crack between door and doorjamb, at a sight she'd seen play out plenty of times these last few nights.
His muscles burned. His breaths puffed out hot and drew in cold. His fingers ached and shivered round the grip of his ancestral sword. Sweat covered his frame and filled the air with the smell of hard effort. The soles of his feet twisted against stone, energy travelling up his legs, hips, torso and arms, to feed a swing that rent empty space. In his mind that swing cleft grimm.
A dull throb echoed behind his eyes. He braced his shield in front of his heaving chest. "No opponent will stand still while you attack," Pyrrha had said. "When you're not using your sword, keep your shield up and remember..." He thrust his shoulder forward, cracking his shield against the imaginary grimm's mask... "don't think of it as a piece of armor—static, unmoving. It's as much of a weapon as your sword."
The shield to break their guard; the sword to really hurt them. A brief spasm jolted down his right arm before he could follow through with the coup de grâce, inadvertently opening his fist and sending Crocea Mors clattering to the ground. He clenched his teeth to contain a pained rasp and glared defiantly at the moonlit reflection glinting off his blade. Tired blue eyes glared back.
"That's enough, Jaune."
He froze, then turned. In front of the door stood a frowning Ruby Rose in her pajamas, her silver eyes gleaming in the dark, her dog ears perked attentively, fluffy tail swaying as she retrieved the water bottle he'd set aside and offered it to him.
He accepted it, popped the cap and drank eagerly. The cool, refreshing water was a balm upon his dry throat, his exhausted body; his listing mind. He pocketed the emptied bottle to dispose of later and said, "You're up late."
"So are you," she countered. "I know you want to catch up but this is a bit much..."
"It's just some extra training. I'm fine. Big aura, remember?" he said, shrugging one shoulder and smiling affably. He stooped down to grab Crocea Mors. His knees buckled suddenly, hitting stone with bruising force. "Ow!
Ruby stared at him as he got up, unconvinced. He laughed nervously, shifting shield to scabbard, sliding his sword inside and attaching it to his swordbelt. She took his arm and led him to the edge of the rooftop, where they could get a nice view of campus at night, empty, peaceful and dotted by a thousand glittering lights. His breaths eased, slowly, slowly...
"Not even aura can heal all wounds. My dad told me that," she said. "Sure it can patch you up and help when you're tired, but it doesn't make you immune to sleep-deprivation or stress."
"Yeah? Well, I've been doing alright," he said.
"For now," she replied. "But you've been pretty dead on your feet lately. The others are starting to notice. How long do these midnight training sessions usually last for?"
"An hour."
"That's a lie." She still hadn't let go of his forearm. Her voice came out as a breathy little sigh that sent tingles running through his gut, "I've seen you go for two. Once for three."
"How do you...?" He blinked. "Ruby Rose, the stalker."
She pouted. "Hey! That's..."
"Surprisingly accurate?" he jibed.
"Ugh. You've been spending too much time with Yang," she complained. "And no, it's just... I—I respect how hard you're willing to work. I think it's amazing how you went from dead-last to pushing middle of the pack in a few short months... It really motivates me, is all I'm saying. And I guess that's why I lose track of time when I watch you train..."
"Oh," he said, unsure of how else to respond. He was hard-pressed to recall a time when he'd been more flattered, or flustered. "You're welcome, I guess."
She swallowed and nodded, unwilling to meet his eyes; worrying her lower lip with pronounced canines. "Right. What I'm trying to say is that you need to lay off a bit before you burn out."
"I get where you're coming from and I agree," to an extent, "but the tournament's coming up, so taking it easy isn't an option."
She quirked a brow. "I didn't know you cared that much about the tournament."
"I don't," he replied frankly. It was hard to care about something so far beyond your reach. Jaune had improved, yes, but he had no delusions as to where he currently stood in the pecking order. "But the others do, and there's no way in hell I'm dragging them down. It's a leader thing—you'd get it."
"I do," she admitted. "But collapsing in the middle of the tournament won't be doing them any favors, y'know?"
He bit down on the instinctive retort and stared sullenly at the tattered moon... "I know."
Her hip bumped against his. "Sorry. It must be annoying being lectured by someone younger than you. You're a big boy; you can make your own decisons. I'm just worried about you."
He shook his head. "Don't be sorry. I'm the one being difficult here, and for the record? You being younger than me doesn't make you any less incredible."
"Thanks." She smiled shyly, pressing her head to his bicep. He told himself she was just a naturally touchy-feely person, like a cuter, cuddlier Saphron; that her taking a deep whiff of his scent was just faunus stuff. "How about a compromise, then? Cut it down to an hour, two hours tops, and I'll spar with you every night."
Sparring, huh? It'd beat flailing around by his lonesome. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about asking Pyrrha, but she was already doing so much for him. He would've felt guilty. But if Ruby was offering...
"That sounds awesome," he said.
"Great!" she cheered. "It's official then. We'll begin tommorow night."
"Why not now?" he asked.
She gestured to her pajamas, giving him a deadpan look.
He colored slightly. "Ah, okay. Tommorow night it is."
"At twelve."
"At twelve," he repeated.
"Don't be late or I'll kick your butt," she said. Then, much to his surprise, she got on the tips of her toes and kissed him on the cheek. His mind blanked; by the time he'd gotten ahold of himself, Ruby had already disappeared in a trail of rose petals, and he could hear the faint thumping of her feet growing yet fainter as she raced down the stairs, and tripped. A resounding crash made him wince.
"I'm okay!" she yelled.