Chapter 25

December 31st, 2005

"I got my first speeding ticket yesterday."

I cocked my eyebrows, briefly pausing my raiding of the fridge for ingredients.

"Oh hoh, do tell. Do you even have lemon juice?"

"Yeah, it's in the thing next to the thing."

I sighed and looked in the fridge door, which is where most normal people would keep the little lemon-shaped bottle. It was behind the ketchup.

"Thanks, real helpful. Your speeding ticket?"

"Yeah, I got my first the other day."

"I assume in your dad's car?"

I put the bottle of lemon juice and big jug of apple juice on the counter next to the bag of flour and bowl of apples.

"That's right. Don't know how the cops even caught me. I'm a real street racer."

I chuckled.

"I'm surprised they did catch you. Your dad's S600's got, like, five hundred horsepower. Where was this?"

She paused, flipping through the extremely worn-out Arabic-translated Betty Crocker book.

"Uh, you know that spot on Merivale between, uh, what is it, Fallowfield and Slack? That fifty zone that's not marked?"

I nodded.

"Yeah."

"Right there. I was slowing down and everything."

"What were you doing?"

"I was out shopping with my mom."

"No, no, I mean, how fast were you going?"

"Oh. Guess."

I shrugged, sorting through the lazy susan of spices.

"Seventy-five?"

"Fifty-eight."

I snorted, dropping the cinnamon bottle onto the counter and fumbling it to the floor with my foot.

"You what?"

"You heard me right. Fifty-eight in a fifty. Real criminal offense, right?"

"Jeez, you must have been flying."

Emerald pulled a cutting board out from beside the microwave and set it on her side of the counter. I slid the bowl of apples over.

"Cop was a real dick about it. Pass me that knife?"

"In what way was he a dick? Which knife you want?"

"Big and pointy."

I reached for the knife magnet. You know, like a strip of knives, just sort of on display on the wall.

"Gotta be specific, got about eight different 'big and pointies' over here."

Emerald huffed, her hand out for emphasis.

"Anything but the cleaver, idiot. Something for cutting apples."

"Well I don't know anything about knives, they're all just sharp cutting things, right?"

Emerald rolled her eyes so hard I was certain they would bounce out and onto the floor. She stood up from her stool and stepped around the counter, hands on her hips, and her 'Kiss The Cook' apron swaying almost angrily off her waist.

"There's seven different types of knives here, all for different purposes," she said, pointing.

"Yeah, there's the Big Choppy, the Rainbow Big Choppy, the Skinny Slicey, the Mini Stabby, the Bumpy Slicey, the Bendy Pokey, and the Cleaver."

Emerald rubbed her face with her hands. I knew she liked my descriptions, I could see her smiling under all that sighing and groaning.

"You– ugh, what you have here is a Chef's knife, a Santoku knife, a boning knife–"

"Heh heh, boning."

Her glare shut me up.

"- A Paring knife, a Bread knife, a Cheese knife, and yes, the Cleaver."

Emerald sauntered, yes, sauntered back around the counter and sat back down on her stool, placing her elbows on the surface and her chin in her palms, staring at me expectantly.

"See, I was mostly right."

"Just give me one of the knives, nuisance."

I snickered and pulled off the Santoku knife, surprised by the strength of the magnet, and spun it a few times in my fingers before passing it handle-first to my kitchen partner. She took it and sarcastically cut one of the apples in half. Not really sure how you can 'sarcastically' cut something, but here was Emerald, doing exactly that.

"So the dick cop?"

She snapped out of her glare and returned to normal, slicing the apple into thin, crescent-shaped pieces.

"Yes, the cop. So, I'm driving with my mom, it's cold out, we've got our massage seats going-"

"Sure, gloat about your expensive, German luxury car."

"Do you want to hear the story or not?"

I laughed as she pointed the knife at me.

"I do, but interrupting you is just as fun."

"Shut up, and do your job as my expensive, German luxury kitchen wench."

"I am not your kitchen wench. I am expensive, German, and luxury, though."

"Well, be quiet and get a mixing bowl."

I snickered, noticing Emerald's tiny smile. See, she thought it was fun, too.

"Yes, dear."

"Gremlin. So we're passing into that fifty zone, past that church or whatever it is, and I'd just dropped below sixty, and my mom says 'watch out, there's a radar police ahead,' and of course I look up the road and see him, thinking I'm going perfectly slow enough."

"Which you were."

"Which I was, and then the cop lowered his radar gun, raised his hand, pointed at me, and gestured to the side street."

"Should've just kept driving. Alright, what d'you want me to do here, I can't read your cookbook."

Em stood up slightly and spun the book around so she could dictate it to me.

"I wanted to, but he was standing in the middle of the street. Okay, a third of a cup of brown sugar, cup of the apple juice, tablespoon of cornstarch and lemon juice, a dash of vanilla extract and nutmeg, teaspoon of cinnamon, and like, a pinch of salt."

Fumbling with the bag and only getting a little bit on the floor, I managed to get the brown sugar into the bowl. I reached for the jug of apple juice, pausing and staring at Emerald with a measuring cup in one hand.

"Uh, how much juice again?"

"A cup, weren't you listening?"

I was, I just have the attention span of a gnat. Also Emerald is very pretty and very distracting.

"Uh huh. So you pulled over?"

Em nodded and pulled another apple out of the bowl, deftly slicing it in twain.

"I mean, I had to, it's the law. I pull over into the side street, put the car in park, turn it off, roll my window down and wait for him to approach. I don't even have the opportunity to say 'Good morning' before he's leaning on the window sill glaring at me and shouting."

I poured the cup of juice into my mixing bowl and reached for the box of cornstarch, tapping it on the edge of the counter to break up any lumps in it. I wrinkled my nose in confusion.

"Shouting?"

"Yeah, immediately, he's like 'Why're you going so fast, you in a hurry for something? Sale at the mall?' and I'm so shocked I can't even speak for a second."

In the moment of shock hearing this, I drop the whole tablespoon into my mixing bowl. It clattering against the plastic bowl snaps me out of it and I fish it out, leaving the cornstarch in the mix. I rubbed my apron against the measuring spoon and sent a concerned look Em's way.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Em continued slicing the apple, keeping her eyes on the extremely sharp knife. You know, safety. Never look away from what you're cutting, you're liable to cut your finger. And with the expensive Japanese Santoku knife, that would be cut it off.

"I am not fucking kidding you."

"Goddamn. So, sour attitude and misogynistic." I sneered, wiping off the tablespoon on my apron and filling it with lemon juice.

"Oh, but it gets better. I still haven't said a word about who I am, given my license or the car's pink slip or anything, cop continues on his tirade and is like 'who's car is this? Awful fancy ride for a li'l lady'."

I chuffed, gently dashing the vanilla extract bottle over my mixing bowl. Hey, if you're ever reading a recipe to someone and you wanna really make them cringe and get all squidgy, just wait for them to ask 'how much vanilla extract' and respond with 'two cups, vanilla extract'.

"He did not! How much cinnamon?"

"Teaspoon. And yes, he did. I got ahold of myself at this point and said it was my dad's car and he's like 'well does daddy know you're out in it?'"

I choked on a laugh.

"Oh my god, how did you not get out and punch the living daylights out of this guy?"

"Oh, honey, I really thought about it. But I would have been so very arrested for that. So I just pointed to my mom and was like 'well, I'm with my mother, so I think he does'. In hindsight, I should have specified that it's my parents' car, not exclusively my dad's, though mom never drives it."

A few shakes of nutmeg wend up my nose as I tried to close the little plastic container, leaving me in a brief sneezing fit that I directed away from the counter and the tiny half-teaspoon measuring device in my hand. I came back around, a little dizzy, still intrigued by the story.

"R-right–"

"And he gets all up in my face, like 'are you giving me lip, young lady' and I'm about five seconds from bursting a blood vessel."

"His or yours?" I added the pinch of salt and grabbed my mixing spatula, digging it into the bowl..

"First one, then the other."

"How the hell did this get resolved? I assume at least semi-amicably because I haven't heard about a feral goth attacking a cop on the news."

Em chuffed and slid the bowl of sliced apples in my direction.

"Not as amicably as you might think. My mother turned on this guy and demanded to speak to a supervisor, yelling and shouting about how the cop was being racist and sexist, and this cop was having none of it, yelling back about how I was 'endangering the public' and how he could cite me for reckless driving. Hand me that bowl behind you."

"But you… weren't recklessly driving? Would that even hold up?"

"I don't think so. But the argument between the cop and my mom went on for like an hour, and he still never called his supervisor, and by the end of it he was like 'I could arrest you for reckless but I'm feeling generous today, so I'm just gonna issue a ticket' and then marked me down for fifteen over for doing fifty-eight in a fifty."

My mouth hung open for a moment as I stirred the apples into my bowl.

"Jeez– you're gonna fight that, right?"

"Oh, I could absolutely fight that, but that would mean having to see this fucker again in court, and I'm not even remotely interested in doing that. Here, measure me out a cup of flour and a cup of sugar."

I transferred the contents of my bowl into a saucepan and slid it over to the stove, and grabbed the measuring cups again, batting them clean on my apron. I handed the pair of measuring instruments, filled with their respective ingredients, back to Emerald who dumped them into her bowl.

"I can't believe the arrogance of that guy."

"He knew he could get away with it. I didn't get any demerit points, and it's a thirty-five dollar fine, so I almost don't care, I just wish he hadn't been such a fuckin' asshole about it. Cook that on medium for 3 minutes."

I flipped the stove burner on and put the pot of apples and 'crisp' onto it. Luckily, Em's parents had pumped for a very fancy and very easy to use electric range. Didn't need to light it like the gas-powered one at the apartment, which I was always afraid would literally blow me to pieces. It never did, but you know, it never hurt to be cautious. Emerald slid the bowl of sugar and flour to my side of the counter.

"I am so angry for you."

"Thanks, but being angry doesn't solve my problem. Two teaspoons of baking powder and a quarter of salt, please."

I did as requested, batting off the measuring spoons on the edge of the bowl.

"What does?"

Em grabbed her mixer and set it to its lowest setting, stirring the powders in her bowl together.

"A total social reform, but you and I both know that ain't happening any time soon. Measure me out three quarters of a cup of milk and hand me the tray of melted butter over there."

I mulled over her words for a moment, pouring the milk in following it with the little platter of melted butter, which looked to be about five tablespoons. Em set the mixer on medium and turned the ingredients into a smooth cream-coloured goo.

"Maybe we should reform to be more like hyena society."

Em snorted, turning off her mixer and ejecting the beaters.

"Pfft, yeah. Or drow society."

I paused, halfway through taking the simmering apple mixture off the stove. Had Emerald just said something incredibly nerdy? Had my best friend, the equal parts fashionable and athletic Emerald Sustrai just made a correctly-metered reference to the popular role-playing game Dungeons and Dragons? I looked at her sideways through the edge of my glasses, holding an evil grin.

"What was that?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you just say 'drow society'? As in the incredibly matriarchal BDSM cave-dwelling drow society?"

A little colour came to her cheeks, and her attempt to brush it off did not go unnoticed.

"What, no, I agreed with you on the hyena thing."

I poured the cooked apple mixture into a casserole dish, not letting my evil grin fade.

"Emerald, are you a nerd?"

She didn't make eye contact, pulling the casserole dish to her side of the counter and pouring the batter over the apples.

"What, no of course not. I'm attracted to nerds, which is why I like you and Jaune. I'm not a nerd, you're a fuckin' nerd."

I licked my lip.

"Sure. Whatever you say."

I slid the cinnamon shaker over to her side of the counter, but didn't take my hand off of it. Em's fingers landed on mine as she tried to take it. I didn't let it go for a second.

"What?"

"Nothing, apparently."

I let my grin shine as I let the cinnamon go, and Em did her best Emeril Lagasse all over the top of the dish, coating both it and about 3 inches of countertop around the outside with the spice. I brushed my hands off on my apron and stood with my hands on my hips as I watched Emerald sprinkle some crushed nuts on the top of the dish from a paper bag labeled 'crushed nuts'. She set the bag down and mirrored my pose.

"There."

"There?"

"One apple cobbler."

I nodded, then frowned.

"Oh, shit, were we supposed to bake it?"

"Nah, we'll bake it at Russel's house. That's why I didn't preheat the oven to three-fifty."

"Oh, fair. How long we got 'till we gotta be there?"

Em leaned back so she could see the clock in the other room.

"Uh, pfft, like four hours."

"Cool. What're we gonna do 'till then? Video games?"

Em shrugged and popped her hips slightly sideways.

"We could make out."

I snorted. Like, actual gross snorting through my nose holes. But truthfully, blushed a little too.

"You're hilarious."

"I wanted to see what your reaction would be, and it was exactly like I thought."

I put a hand on my cheek. A feeble gesture, I know.

"I mean, it's a valid suggestion, I guess, but for four hours? That's a long time. Our lips would get chapped."

"Not if we took occasional breaks."

"Well… sure, but… I'm sure our jaws would get sore."

Em kinda looked at me sideways.

"You don't… kiss with your jaw. Weiss have–"

I turned my face slightly more away.

"I know, obviously."

Her eyes narrowed.

"-Have you never kissed anyone before?"

I frowned and crossed my arms.

"Of course I have."

"On the lips?"

I chuffed and flicked my hair back.

"Yes." Emerald looked at me. "No."

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Oy…"

"What?! I'm not gonna go around kissing people willy-nilly! I was–" I fumbled for words for a moment, gesticulating wildly, "-You know, waiting for th–"

"What, waiting for the right person? The special someone?"

I didn't meet her teasing glare.

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh, you basic white bitch, are you fuckin' kidding me?"

I relented, finally.

"What do you want me to say?! That… people who've had their first kiss deserve a moral high ground?"

Em laughed, creating a tiny cloud of flour from her apron.

"No, just–" she paused to wipe the corner of her eye, "Are you really worried about the concept of a 'first kiss'?"

I shrugged, still not making eye contact.

"I mean… kind of…"

"What are you, ten?"

I knew her words were joking and friendly in nature, but I couldn't help but feel just a little bit personally offended. I was, however, adult enough to not bite back with any low blows.

"Look, everyone matures at their own rate, Emerald. Some people… hold onto… things like that."

Emmy sighed at me. A stool scraped the tile as she sat down on her side of the counter.

"Alright, that's… that's fine. You're right. I'm not going to make fun of you over some kind of constructed maturity threshold based on whether or not you've touched someone's mouth with your mouth."

"Thank you."

She leaned onto her elbows and tented her fingers at me.

"However this does pose a bit of a challenge for the plans I had for the four of us tonight."

See, this got my attention back to her. I looked up at Em through a furrowed brow.

"The what, now?"

"Well, see, I had this plan where we'd all sit in a circle near midnight and we'd play spin the bottle or truth or dare or something of that nature. You know, have a little mildly intimate fun before the new year."

I flushed.

"Uhh…?"

"And this puts a little bit of a damper on that plan. Because you're- let's be honest- embarrassed about never having kissed anyone. Right?"

I scratched my head and looked away again.

"Yeah, maybe."

"Why not get it out of the way, then?"

My eyes narrowed at that statement, focussed on the floor.

"Excuse me?" I said, looking back up at her. "What do you mean 'get it out of the way'?"

Emerald continued, unhindered.

"Get it out of the way right now. That way we can play our awkward social game later and you can be included without feeling embarrassed."

I started to piece together what she was saying.

"Do you mean, like… right now? With you?"

She rolled her eyes. Honestly, I don't blame her, I was being unreasonably obtuse.

"No, Weiss, we'll stop on our way to Russel's and find you some random guy to kiss."

I frowned even harder at that.

"But–"

"Yes, obviously I meant with me."

I bit my lip.

"Oh."

"Look, I'm not stupid, I know that your 'special someone' is Jaune. Fucking everybody knows that. My parents know that."

I flushed even redder.

"Shut the hell up."

"I'm giving you an opportunity here to not feel weird about this. The way I see it, it's a safe environment here with me, this isn't some frat party where drunk dudes are trying to kiss you."

I nodded, fiddling with my hair.

"...Sure…"

"Look, you want your first kiss with Jaune to be special, right?"

"No, Emerald, I–"

"If your first kiss with Jaune is also your first kiss you're gonna fuck it up, and then you're gonna feel embarrased even more. Right?"

"R-right…"

Em put her hands out, elbows planted on the counter, and looked up at me with a welcoming smile.

"I don't want you to be embarrassed and think that you've messed up your relationship with him by, I dunno, kissing him poorly or something. Why don't you get that out of the way right now, here, with me, and when the time comes tonight for social games, you'll be less likely to go teeth-first into his mouth. Which would suck for all of us."

I leaned against the fridge, arms crossed.

"I'm irritated that you make good arguments."

Em tapped the stool next to hers.

"Come on over here, siddown, and we'll work through this. You can take my lips for a test drive and see how you feel, and I can offer some constructive criticism."

I glared over at her with a half-smile. She seemed surprisingly unflinching. Which meant she was serious. I stuck my tongue out the side of my teeth.

"A 'test drive'? Please, don't use car talk on me, Em."

"Why, 'cause it works on you?"

I laughed, finally.

"Fuck you."

"That seems drastic. I think we should start with the kissing and move on to that when you're ready."

I choked on my tongue for a moment, giggling and gripping my sides. Em just beamed at me with a bemused grin. As I finished, she beckoned to the stool again with her eyes, fingers laced under her chin. I relented, because honestly who wouldn't?

"Alright, fine. But I'm not doing this for me."

"Whatever you say, Weiss."

I padded begrudgingly over, dragging my socks across the tile in a vain attempt to build up a static charge that might have been lip-transferable. Em pulled out the stool for me and I sat down, flipping out my apron so it rested neatly on my knees. Em put her hands back together and kept her body facing forward, but her face turned to me. I put my hands on my thighs and looked sheepishly at her.

"Okay, so…"

"Weiss, before we do this, let me ask you; do you actually know how to kiss someone?"

I frowned, offended.

"Of course I do."

I'd seen plenty of kissing on TV and in movies. I'm sure I must have seen my parents kiss a few times. Just because I didn't have any first-hand experience didn't mean I didn't know the mechanics of it.

"Okay,' she said, lowering her right hand to her hip and turning her butt on her stool so she faced me more directly, "Kiss me."

I balked. As you do.

"What?"

"Go on."

"What– you're not– gonna– me?"

"Nope. You kiss me. I want to know what I'm starting with. Get a baseline that I can work from."

I chuffed slightly, frowning and glaring into her reddish-brown eyes. Man, were they challenging me today. Normally, Emerald was an extremely flirty person, especially to me. But this was different. This was frighteningly unflinching.

"Alright, fine. But close your eyes. And… wipe off your lipstick."

Em nonchalantly reached over to the napkin holder next to the sink and pulled one out, unfolding it in her fingers. But instead of wiping her lips with it, she kissed it, and held it up vertical. It was blank.

"Won't need to."

I made a face.

"Huh?"

"This stuff doesn't come off."

"Fuckin' how?"

"Tom Ford. It better not come off. Not for what I paid for it."

I sneered.

"Fuck you, rich girl."

"Again, Weiss. Baby steps."

"Bitch."

She chuckled and closed her eyes as I had instructed. I guess this was the point where I wasn't realistically going to be able to turn back. I guess I could have, and said something like 'I'm not comfortable, I don't wanna', but that would have been a lie. I was very comfortable. This woman was my best friend, I had known her my entire tenure in Canada. That was getting on a decade at this point. She was my confidant, my cryable shoulder, my rival. I mean, we had seen each other completely naked, for fuck's sake. Both physically and emotionally. The thought of kissing in general was just still, you know, a little awkward.

But she was right, as she usually was, that I didn't want to be embarrassed in front of Jaune. I was fully willing to put myself into a situation where Me-on-Jaune kissing was an inevitability, like during spin the bottle or the like, but I most certainly would have chickened out at the last second because despite my outward attitude of self-comfort I was still at my core scared. I didn't want to be, though. I knew that, like most things, if I got the awkwardness and embarrassment out of my system I would be fine. Like the first time I went off the high-dive tower at the pool. Or the first time I had a trumpet solo in grade nine jazz band. As soon as I was doing it, everything was fine and I was comfortable. Maybe this was the same thing, and it was the right thing to do to get me out of my self-imposed funk.

Or maybe it was totally the wrong thing and it would make everything worse, who fuckin' knows. Awkward or not, embarrassed or not, I really also just wanted to kiss Emerald, problems with Jaune be damned. Her lips were just so poofy and inviting. But those conflicted feelings are a story for another day, for right now I had a goal to achieve and that was to figure out how to not embarrass myself in front of my friends. So I puffed up my cheeks, sturdied my resolve, and leaned into Emerald's face.

Honestly, I wasn't expecting Emerald to be the one to pull back, I figured it would be my cowardly ass. But no, after only about two seconds of mouth-to-mouth contact she pulled away, leaning back on her stool and staring at the wall over my head. She blinked a few times at the nothing, before a bemused smile circled back around to her lips.

"I'm gonna ask you a second time, and I'd like you to be honest with me. Are you sure you know how to kiss?"

I huffed and crossed my arms.

"I mean, yeah."

She nodded.

"Mmm hmm. 'Kay."

"What?!"

She smiled, seeming to hold in a laugh.

"Okay, so, step one, don't puff your cheeks out. For someone who plays a brass instrument you have terrible mouth form."

"Rude!"

"I did say I would give you constructive criticism, so I'll do my best to remedy your issue here. Step one; don't puff your cheeks out, step two; don't clench your teeth together. Relax your mouth."

I let my jaw go slack. All of a sudden my whole body seemed to relax.

"Hohh–"

"Yeah, most people carry a lot of stress in their jaws. If you're ever feeling like, really tense, remember to unclench your jaw, most people do it subconsciously."

I rubbed my cheeks, feeling the stress leave my face. I mean, this was pretty stressful.

"Wow, you're not kidding."

"Yeah. Now, relax your jaw, keep your teeth slightly apart, and say the word 'mouth'."

I frowned.

"Mouth?"

"Not as a question. Just say the word. And don't close your lips at the end."

"Mouth."

She held her hand out, pointing to my face.

"Okay, feel how your mouth finishes, there? Lips rounded, tongue against your lower teeth?"

I didn't move my tongue, and focused on what she was saying.

"Yeth."

"Another way you can do this is stick your pinkie between your lips, close your lips around it, and pull straight out. Like this."

She demonstrated, her full and beautiful lips exaggerating the movements. I tried it too, and ended up mostly in the same position as before.

"Okay. So say 'mouth' to use mouth."

"Pretty much. Now, if you're just gonna give someone a quick peck on the lips, close your lips all the way and push. Just pucker and smeck, basically. But to kiss someone properly, you want your lips parted slightly, mouth slightly open, and tongue forward but not passed your teeth."

"Okay…"

"You'll get this."

"What am I supposed to do with my hands?"

Em shrugged.

"Whatever you want, realistically. Keep them down, put them on your partner's neck, it's all good. Now, it's where your partner puts their hands that really makes the difference. Think of it like this; you because you're short are in this case the kiss-receiver. That's not an attack at you, before you get bent out of shape."

"I'm not bent out of shape," I said, deliberately crossing my arms and frowning.

"Okay, good. If you're on the delivering end of the kiss, you should use your hands to direct the receiver's face and head around for more optimal kiss angles. Because you're short, you'd want to put your hands behind your partner's neck to pull them down to you. If you're in a position where your heads are at the same level, like in their lap, you'd put your hands with your thumbs behind their ears and your fingers laced into their hair. Like so."

As a demonstration, Em slid her hands onto my head and slipped her fingers into my hair, just behind my ears. It actually felt really nice, her hands were very warm and soft.

"...Like so."

"Yeah. As you'll probably be the kissee in most romantic situations, you are not obligated to do any of that, you are free to just be there and be kissed, which has its own appeal in my opinion. Now, when you get into a position where you're both the kisser, you can put your hands wherever you damn well please. In their hands, on their chest, shoulders, neck, back, butt, whatever you can reach, really. That's when the real fun begins."

I exhaled through my nose, shivering a little.

"Uh huh. That does sound fun…"

"But for now, just do whatever you're comfortable with. Okay?"

I scratched my temple idly.

"How are you so specific about this?"

Em shrugged.

"It's patterns, I'm good with patterns."

I nodded solemnly.

"Okay."

"Alright, this time I'm gonna kiss you, you're gonna do what I told you, and it's gonna go well."

I chuckled.

"I appreciate your optimism."

"You're a fast learner, I believe in you. Oh, and one last thing, breathe through your nose."

"Got it."

This time, Emerald leaned in to me. I did my utmost to follow the instructions, keeping my cheeks in and my mouth adequately 'mouth' shaped. And pretty much as I expected, her lips were very soft, with a firm and forgiving quality. She pulled back after a second, our lips smecking quietly, and my eyes fluttered back open.

"There, how was that?"

Every fibre of my being wanted to just yell 'MORE' at the top of my lungs, but I remained reserved and polite so as to not alert the neighbours to what we were doing. I flushed an entirely new shade of red. Maybe I should have started a makeup line for blushes and other face powders and called it 'Stupid & Embarrassed'. I'd have made a killing.

"That was good. Was I good?"

Em shrugged.

"You followed my instructions, and as a result, complete improvement."

I sort of chuckled.

"Uh, I didn't realize I was being graded."

"You are. Passing grade."

I frowned and crossed my arms.

"Well that just doesn't feel good enough to me."

"Figured it wouldn't be. We can keep going if you like."

As much as I very much wanted to, I knew that would be impractical.

"You sure? You're not gonna, like, get in trouble for this, right?"

"For what?"

"I dunno, kissing a girl?"

Em looked at me and pursed her lips for a moment, before relaxing.

"It's fine. My parents aren't home. Not that they'd care, they love you. We're just not gonna tell my extended family."

I nodded, keeping that image out of the back of my mind.

"Okay. If you're okay with this, of course."

"Weiss, you are more than welcome to help yourself to my lips."

I giggled, awkwardly.

"Uh, okay. Maybe just a few more times. Just so I can get better than a 'passing grade'."

Em smiled at me.

"Go right ahead."

I kissed her again.

/…/

I rubbed my nose on the back of my right hand, drumstick spinning between the fingers of my left. My left foot bounced idly on the hi-hat pedal.

"You know, it's not often I get to play drums anymore, let alone on your kit, Russ."

Russel nodded, slice of pizza between his teeth. After a moment of chewing and swallowing and an unhealthy gulp of Mr. Pibb, he cleared his throat and pointed at the closet.

"That's not actually mine, that's unsold merchandise from Steve's. You think I can afford a set of Pearls? I got Yamaha money, honey."

I chuckled and quietly tapped out a smooth sixteen-beat rhythm.

"Yamaha money. You always been this funny, sonny?"

"It's a possibility."

I finished the beat with a snare roll and a crash. A damn good sounding kit, honestly.

"And they just let you have it, huh."

Russel shrugged.

"We got it on trade, manager didn't want to take up floor or warehouse space. It's very used, that's why the skins are so beat."

I fiddled with Russ's bucket full of sticks next to the kick drum, and fished out a set of fan brushes.

"Probably why it sounds so good, too."

"Yeah, new skins don't got that rich tone. They always sound tinny to me."

"Understandable," I pulled into a soft five-four swing, keeping the volume of the music in my head low, "Anything else in here not yours and expensive?"

He nodded, pointing with his foot to a closet on the other side of the room.

"Hell yeah I do, that room's full of second hand guitars. All for sale if you want 'em."

Jaune looked up from his copy of Guitar World, its cover faded and cracked from having spent its life in a box in his father's basement.

"Guitars?"

Russ and I kind of snickered at him as he closed the magazine and sat upright on the corduroy recliner. Russ grinned wide.

"Yes, Jaune. Guitars."

Jaune pointed at the closet using the magazine, its pages slightly curled in his mildly fervent grasp.

"D'you mind if I–"

"Knock yourself out, buddy."

Jaune literally jumped out of the recliner and dashed for the closet door, pulling it open with ill-disguised excitement. From where I was sitting behind the drumkit, I couldn't see the contents of the tiny room. But by the look of wonder that pulled his face into an expression of greed, it was probably pretty good stuff.

"Oh, damn."

"Go on, bud. Take your pick. But that's all merchandise, be careful with it."

Jaune gave Russ a look of 'are you fucking kidding me, of course', and disappeared into the closet. I could hear him shuffling through hardcases, mumbling to himself in amazement.

"There's some cool stuff in here. Fender, Fender, Gibson, PRS, another Fender, Gretsch, ooh, an antique Ibanez, that's cool."

I looked to Russel, who seemed to be waiting for something. He noticed me looking at him, and winked.

"He hasn't found it yet–"

"Oh my god."

"Okay, he found it."

There was a moment of silence from within the closet. Then, a strained voice came out.

"Why do you just have this in your basement, Russel."

"That belongs to the owner of the store."

Now I really wanted to see. Before it was just idle curiosity. Now it was agonizing.

"Bring it out here!" I yelled, punctuating my words with a rim shot. "I wanna see!"

"I don't think I can touch this"

"Jaune, for fuck's sake!"

"Russel, am I okay to do this?"

Russ laughed.

"Keep your shirt on. Just bring it out here."

A nervous sigh.

"Okay…"

Jaune emerged from the closet, gingerly holding a brown leather case - and I do mean gingerly, you could have convinced me it was made of sugar glass from the delicacy of his fingers - and set it down on the carpet in the middle of the room.

"Open it! Hurry up!"

"Weiss, I can't just 'hurry' this, this case is fifty years old."

I paused in place.

"It's what?"

He carefully opened the latches using the edge of his shirt to keep them clean of the grease on his fingers, and lifted the lid. I still couldn't see from where I was sitting, and fruitlessly tried sitting up straighter on the stool to peer over the case top. Russel was still in his chair, grinning ear to ear.

"Pretty, ain't she?"

"Oh, she's beautiful."

"Original nineteen fifty seven. Boss said he bought it in Kalamazoo."

"Am I allowed to– you know– play it?"

"I don't see why no–"

"Just pick the fuckin' guitar up!" I interrupted, banging loudly at the drums.

Jaune looked at me, kind of offended.

"Okay! Jeez. Gimme a sec, I gotta go wash my hands."

"Good idea," Russ stood from his chair. "I'll get you an amp from the furnace room."

I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the wall behind me, dropping the fan brushes onto the carpet. Jaune and Russ departed in opposite directions, leaving me alone for a moment. I could hear Emerald upstairs in the kitchen doing something with Russ's hand-crank ice cream maker. Probably making ice cream, honestly. Jaune and Russel returned to me moments later. Russ had in his hands a new-ish looking Vox AC Twin, and Jaune had actually changed his shirt and pants. Whatever was in that case was clearly worth it.

"Okay. Here goes…"

I watched him kneel in front of the case and reach in. And then I watched him lift out a '58 Les Paul Standard. My jaw dropped.

"Holy fuckin' shit."

Jaune nodded and carefully slipped the strap over his head.

"That's what I was gonna say."

I looked at Russel, who had just finished setting up the amp. I also noticed the price tag on the amp, hanging loosely from the volume knob.

"Holy fuckin' shit, Russel! You just have these in your house?!"

"It's just offsite storage. If you want the good stuff, my manager's basement's loaded with cool shit."

Jaune lifted the guitar up to his face and jammed his nose against the surface, inhaling deeply and letting the smell ruminate in his sinuses for a moment. He lowered it down again and let the guitar hang from its strap around his neck.

"Ohhh that smells good. Real mahogany. Real Brazilian rosewood. Oh, Russel, I just– this is too valuable, man."

Russ chuckled and put his feet up on the coffee table, picking up his paper plate of pizza again.

"What're you talking about, it's covered in dents and scratches, the finish is all faded–"

"And you don't think that adds value? I don't think I'm a good enough guitarist to even be touching this."

Russ and I both rolled our eyes at this.

"Please, bud, you've got six strings and ten fingers, you can make it sing."

"Okay, if you're sure you're sure. Last chance to back and tell me I can't–"

"Just play the fucking guitar, Jaune!" I yelled.

He kinda recoiled from me for a moment, haphazardly reaching for the patch cord that Russel was holding out for him without looking. After a moment of fiddling, he was plugged in and ready, guitar adjusted to a comfortable height. Which for Jaune was real low, with the neck joint just below his navel and the Standard's hips angled below his own. Russ tossed him a plectrum, which he caught against his chest, clearly uncomfortable.

"Okay, jeez, you guys. What the hell'm I supposed to play on this, then?"

"Just mess around with it, it'll come to you."

Russel seemed awful relaxed for having just given permission to play a guitar worth as much as a small house to a guitarist with the talent of Jaune.

"If you say so…"

Yet Jaune still looked apprehensive. He very gently turned up the volume knob on the amp, and this soft hum filled the basement. It wasn't loud enough to be irritating, just enough that you could feel it in that spot on your skull behind your ears. With nervous fingers, he rang out a simple G chord, turning the lower tone knob on the amp up. He made a face.

"What's the matter, that sounds pretty clean?" I pondered, spinning a drumstick.

"It does, it's a very clean tone."

He reached down and fiddled with his mid level, and switched the guitar's rocker up to the upper pickup. It certainly didn't have the same alive, static and visceral tone of the open-coil pickups on Jaune's Fender, but the brass PAFs' clean tone was still buttery smooth. He continued that G chord for a moment, continuing to make a face, and furrowing his eyebrows. I mirrored his face, listening to the tones in that chord.

"Huh, that kinda sounds like–"

Jaune cut me off by sliding his hand up the fretboard to the eighth fret, and strummed a B-flat-add-9, letting it hang in the air for a moment, before strumming again and sliding back down to the end of the neck for a barred G-minor-seven. He followed this, of course, with an F-major, and then an E-flat, keeping his wrists loose and casual. My back hit the wall again as Jaune looked right at me.

"I never meant to cause you any sorrow."

"Oh, goddamn it, Jaune."

Again with the G-minor. This time with added lip-biting. And singing.

"~I never meant to cause you any pain~"

I closed my eyes and put my head back. I mean, if I was gonna be serenaded, I might as well get the whole experience. The entire room glowed with the sweet reverb from that Vox Twin. It was probably too loud for the nighbours, but they were getting a free Prince concert. The Standard sang with the F and E-flat, as Jaune's magical talent brought musical life to each string and chord.

"~I only wanted to one time see you laughing~"

He really dug into that F before the transition, bending his knees and holding the guitar more level.

"~I only want to see you laughing in the purple rain~"

A chilling, sudden hit of the B-flat, before muting the strings.

"~Purple rain, purple rain~"

We were interrupted by the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the stairs, followed by the basement door bursting open. A very displeased looking Emerald stood there, apron around her waist and Russel's stolen slippers on her feet.

"What the hell, Jaune?"

He didn't stop playing, but he did turn to face her.

"What's the matter?"

"That's literally my favourite song, and you play it without me. Asshole."

"You can hear it from upstairs."

She aimed an accusatory finger at him.

"That's not the point. No more Prince songs till I get down here with desert, got it?" she turned to Russel, softening. "Did you buy whipping cream like I asked you to?"

He shrugged.

"There's a can of Reddi-Wip in the fridge."

Em looked indignantly down her nose at him for a moment.

"I asked you to– fuck it, I'll just go to the Quickie store and get some. UNbelievable. All three of you."

I gawked back at her.

"What the hell did I do? Jaune was the one playing Purple Rain."

And really spectacularly well, too.

"You let him."

The door slammed shut again, and Em's loud footsteps echoed back up the stairs to the kitchen. Jaune looked sheepish for a moment, before flipping the tone knob around again, and started to pluck out the opening of Pearl Jam's Yellow Ledbetter. Which, of course, was Emerald's second favourite song. There was a yell from upstairs, clearly distressed.

"We're doing this on purpose now, aren't we?"

Jaune nodded in agreement as I leaned forward and readied my sticks to join in. Russel laughed at us, but provided no support.

"You guys are digging yourself a hole."

Jaune stopped suddenly, right before I was supposed to join him, and grinned evilly at Russ.

"Oh, you want to see me dig a hole? Watch this."

I frowned.

"Nothing good ever starts with that phrase."

"Trust me. Weiss, straight sixteenths if you please."

As a musician, I reacted to the instruction automatically, lifting my sticks and tapping out the requested rhythm with a snare hit every other measure beat. Jaune gestured me to go a little faster as he flipped the tone switch on the Standard and dialed up his knobs. He reached down and did something to the amp, before standing up and plucking out just an A note on the top string. I didn't quite know what he was doing yet, as he had started in the middle of the measure instead of waiting for me to come around to beat one. But regardless, he fiddled with the guitar for a moment more, and started singing.

"~Got my head in a haze!~"

"Oh, I get it."

I changed from a straight pattern to a loose-wristed funk shuffle, significantly more appropriate for a Big Sugar song. Russel jumped from his chair excitedly and seemed to disappear from the room for a moment, returning just as Jaune started the second line with two items in his hand.

"~Feel like a cat in a cage~ oh, thank you."

Jaune took the shiny chrome guitar slide from Russ and slipped it on his pinkie finger. Russ stayed standing, and joined in the singing.

"~I've been cryin' for days and I'm fallin' apart~"

Russel's much deeper and gravelier voice beautifully rounded out Jaune's mid-tenor, the two boys almost seeming to sing into each other's faces.

"~Can't read the lines on the page!~"

The sweet, saccharine crunch of the Vox's overdrive setting on those four hits of A Major followed by that ringing F sharp Major absolutely made up for the obscene value of the guitar in Jaune's grasp. I could see it in his face that he was no longer worried about the monetary value, and had just about lost himself to the music. Good thing then, that I was fully willing to do the same.

"~I'm feelin' twice my age~"

Jaune had his knees bent, and a wonderful stank face going on. The only thing he was missing was the sunglasses and the greaser haircut to complete the look, but he was doing a damn good job regardless. I doubled up my funk, loosening my wrists even more and partially lifting my left foot on the hi-hat pedal to open up the cymbal tone. I was completely full-body bobbing to the beat, I'm not even sorry about it.

"~I've been cryin' for days and I'm fallin' apart~"

The supple slide up the neck of the guitar sent shivers up mine.

"~Diggin' a hole in my ha-heart~"

Luckily for me, as unpracticed as I was, the drum fills were not overly difficult so I could keep up with Jaune and Russel's intense musicality in the moment. Jaune dropped to the D major.

"~Diggin' a hole, is that the way you treat me~"

Russ rolled out his shoulders, seeming to prepare the object in his hand. And his mouth. He was doing something funky with his lips. Jaune continued without him.

"~Diggin' a hole, just tie me up and beat me!~"

Jaune pulled his hand up the neck for the lick. And then Russel revealed that he was holding a harmonica, and played along. Now it was my turn for the stank face, because this was goddamn amazing. And of course, as the song requires, they played it four times in a row. I couldn't hold back my excitement any longer. I whoop'd. Out loud. Jaune and Russ looked at me for a second, and then whoop'd as well.

Russ continued the harmonica solo as Jaune and I dialed back down and went quiet. As he stopped, the energy in the room nearly made me want to start bouncing off walls like one of those bouncy rubber balls you get at the dentist's office. I was very excited.

"I didn't know you could play harmonica."

Jaune slid the Standard off his shoulders and onto a nearby guitar stand. Russ grinned devilishly at him.

"My mouth has many talents."

I snorted through my nose.

"I bet it does," Jaune challenged, cocking an eyebrow.

Russ licked his lips in response, maintaining firm eye contact.

"You wanna find out?"

Before this went any further and I got any redder, I interrupted. I really should have let them keep going to see how far it would go, but then Emerald would be pissed at us for not letting her watch too.

"I sense a lot of homoerotic tension in this room, boys."

Jaune turned to me, sitting back down on the old faded couch.

"That's homie-erotic tension, Weiss. A man's first love is always his bros."

I frowned.

"That can't be right. I thought it was his car."

Russ flopped down onto the couch next to Jaune, pulled his legs up and put his arm around the boy, almost falling into his lap. Honestly, kinda hot.

"Weiss, we are proud homiesexuals, and you can't deny us our love."

"I'm not denying anything, I'm just disagreeing with Jaune's statement, a man's first love isn't his bros, it's his car. That's how the saying goes. Or maybe with Jaune it should be his guitar, he fuckin' sleeps with that thing."

"So you agree that a man's first love can be something other than his car."

I stammered a response.

"I guess–"

"Like his bros, for example!"

"No, Russel–"

He continued, unheeded.

"And what of a woman's first love? Is that not her gals? I've seen the way you and Em coddle each other. In public, even. Jaune and I at the very least keep our homiesexuality to the confines of our houses, because god forbid we disrupt you and your homienormative views of society–"

Jaune put his hand over Russ's mouth.

"Russel, that's enough, you'll break her. The world just isn't ready for our homiesexuality to be set free."

He took his hand away, revealing a powerful pout.

"But Jaune, she was denying us our forbidden love."

I put my hands up.

"I'm not saying you guys can't be gay for each other," since that would be incredibly hypocritical "I'm just saying that the phrase is 'A man's first love is his car'."

Russ pointed a finger in my direction.

"Among other things, Weiss!"

I relented.

"Fine! Among other things!"

"Including his bros."

I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, including his bros. Where's Emerald with my damn apple cobbler."

/…/

"I totally love your pajamas, man."

I beamed back at Russel.

"Thanks, man. Christmas present from Emerald."

"I just wanna know where she found a onesie with racecars on it."

I gestured at Jaune with my fork.

"Same place she got him that bunny ear onesie, some retail store out in Toronto."

"These are footie pajamas," Jaune corrected, sticking out his feet. "Complete with butt-flap."

I took another bite of cobbler, narrowly avoiding dropping any on said racecar onesie. Russ crossed his arms.

"Man, why didn't I get any pajamas."

"Because you didn't ask," Em said, sauntering back into the basement. "I got you that Beastie Boys album instead, like you wanted."

"Yeah, guess that's true, I did ask for that. It's pretty cute that you found Weiss a onesie with racecars on it, though."

I chuffed.

"Not just racecars. BMW race cars. Look, there's a three-litre CSL, there's an E30 M3, here's Andy Warhol's M1, the Winfield 7-series–"

"I like how it's stitched with blue, indigo and red thread," Jaune quipped.

I grinned. It was a really great onesie.

"Yeah, it's just like the M-stripes on my car. I love it."

Em sat down next to me, a plate of cobbler in one hand and an empty root beer bottle in the other.

"I'm glad you do, hun."

"Why didn't you get yourself one too?"

I gestured to her usual long-sleeve and long-legged navy blue two-piece set, complete with the little Hawker Aircraft badge over the right breast pocket. She shrugged.

"They didn't have one I liked."

"What, didn't have one with planes on it?"

Em chuckled, and whipped a bit of whipped cream off the corner of her mouth.

"They did, but they were just generic 'planes'. Not recognizable as anything."

"Oh, that sucks."

"I totally would have got it, it looked comfy for sure. But I would have been irritated every time I looked at the little planes and known that they weren't anything. Like at the very least they could have put on a 747 or a Cessna 172, they're common enough."

I rolled my eyes at her.

"Of course."

Though in hindsight, this was probably what it felt like from everyone else's perspective whenever I went off on automotive tangents.

"I'm not too put out by it," Em grinned down at her jammies, pulling the sleeves taut by the cuffs. "Besides, these are plenty comfy."

"Actually, that raises a question," Russ spoke up from his beanbag, "Why the long sleeves and long pants? Doesn't that make you incredibly hot?"

I snickered.

"Emerald's already incredibly hot."

Em put her arm around my neck.

"Thank you, Weiss, that's very kind of you to say. But, it's because I'm comfortable like this, Russel. I don't feel the need to compromise comfort over style when I'm unconscious. Any way that I can be… swaddled, comforted, supported, or snuggled while I'm asleep makes me very happy."

I glanced down at her chest at the word 'supported'. With a twist of my shoulder I put my hand behind her back and grabbed a handful of the heavy cotton shirt and pulled it back, causing it to tighten over her chest.

"Are you wearing a bra? To bed?"

Em glanced down at me, pushing her chest out for emphasis.

"Yes, Weiss. Keeps my tits from misbehaving. Keeps me comfortable. Were you not listening?"

I let go of her shirt and chuckled. Didn't look away from her chest, though.

"Pfft, I'm not wearing one."

"I noticed."

She brought her other hand around and poked me right in the goodamn nipple.

"Emerald!" I recoiled, cupping the offended body part and flushing pink. "What the hell, man?"

She just laughed.

"Very squishy."

"Rude! Don't poke them!"

She hugged me tighter to her side and rocked us back and forth.

"You're right, that was very rude of me. Next time I'll be much gentler."

I frowned and pouted.

"Thank you, I'd appreciate that."

Russ chuckled, setting down his now empty dessert plate. He gestured at us with his foot.

"You two are cute. What's with the empty bottle?"

"Mmm!" Em snapped to attention and took the fork out of her mouth. "Right, that. Okay–"

She set down her plate and clapped her hands together. She picked up the empty bottle and spun it in her hands for a moment, then slapped it down onto the carpet floor in between us all. We all stared at it in anticipation, and Jaune for one had the face of someone who was looking at a hand grenade instead of an empty A&W root beer bottle. He groaned, eliciting a smirk and a snrrk from Russel.

"Oh, don't tell me…"

Em grinned her usual evil grin.

"Oh, I will tell you, Jauney-boy. We are going to play a little game I like to call Truth… or Kiss."

Jaune frowned and leaned back against the front of the chair.

"Truth or what?"

"It's a very simple premise, you see, for it plays almost identically to regulation-rules Spin The Bottle with one very simple caveat. Normally when the attacking player spins the bottle and it lands on a defending player, those two players must kiss. That is still within the rules."

Jaune nodded slowly, and Emerald continued, casting her gaze over to myself and Russel.

"However, should a defending player choose to, they may play the 'Truth' defense to get out of having to kiss the attacking player. Then, the attacking player gets to ask the defender a question, to which the defender must answer truthfully. If the defender is unable to answer the question, they then must kiss the attacking player, or be subject to disqualification."

I piped up, sliding a little bit away from Emerald so that the circle of us was more evenly spaced.

"So it's like truth or dare, but the only dare is kissing and the bottle chooses your opponent."

"Precisely. Now, is everybody cool with that? Want me to read the rules again?"

Russ nodded.

"No, I'm good. That's cool with me."

I nodded as well.

"Same here."

We all looked at Jaune. He seemed uncomfortable, his fingers laced in front of his face. His eyes flicked back and forth between us, receiving only a devilish smile from both Emerald to my right and Russel to my left. He did, however, let his gaze rest on me for a fair moment longer. His eyes closed, and he sighed.

"Alright, fine." He relented, garnering chuckles from Russ and Em. "But this isn't regulation rules STB, so I don't have to like them."

Russ reached over and bopped him on the shoulder.

"Sure, but we're playing on my court, so Emerald's rules are regulation here."

Jaune put his head in his hands.

"I hate you both."

Em snickered and picked up the bottle, holding it out to him label-side up.

"Excellent! You can go first then, since you're the youngest!"

Jaune made a noise under his breath and snatched the bottle away before putting it down on the carpet and giving a quick flick of his wrist. And spin, the bottle did. Quite rapidly, in fact. Jaune's apparent frustration with Emerald had translated to his wrist, turning the bottle into a brown circular blur on the low-pile carpet. He crossed his arms against his chest and pouted. As the bottle started to slow, my heartbeat increased as I realized that in fact, I was one of the options that it could land on. I needn't have worried, as it swung right past me and landed on Russel.

"Oh." Jaune mumbled.

There was a moment of elation in Russ's eyes that I caught, despite him trying his utmost to hide it. A tensing of the jaw and a barely noticeable shiver in his shoulders. His calm demeanor returned, as did a teasing smirk to Jaune.

"Well, Jaune. This is a good way to start. I'm certainly not choosing truth, bud."

Jaune sighed.

"Sure. Let's get this over with."

"Oh, don't be so coy, man."

Jaune rolled his eyes and sat up onto his knees, leaning over and grabbing the side of Russel's face in his hand. Emerald and I froze, wide eyed, as Jaune planted his lips right onto Russ's and held them there for a moment. And weirdly? I was totally okay with watching this. Not even an ounce of jealousy.

"Oh my–" came out of me breathlessly.

The faint sound of an electronic camera shutter brought us all back to earth. I shot a glance over to Emerald after the boys separated, and noticed she had her phone discreetly held in her hand, mostly shielded by her plate of cobbler. Clearly they hadn't noticed her or the sound, and sat back down in their respective places. Jaune pouted again.

"There. Happy?"

Russel leaned back and sighed.

"Yeah, I'm good, I don't have to play anymore. I got what I came for."

Em and I snickered, and I smacked him on the arm.

"Very funny, Russel. It's your turn now."

He shrugged.

"I guess it is. So, was that your first kiss, bud?"

Jaune scratched the side of his nose, and watched the bottle intently as it spun.

"That's the first time I've kissed back, but not the first time anyone kissed me."

I smirked at him from across the bottle.

"Your mom doesn't count, Jaune."

He glanced up at me, face still pointed at the floor.

"Yeah, that's not what I meant."

I frowned, feeling a momentary twinge of jealousy.

"When the hell was this, then?"

He paused, blinking. He kept his gaze level and focussed. On me. I flushed a little.

"...New Year's morning, the year two-thousand."

I crossed my arms, frowning deeper.

"Well, whoever he or she was, they clearly weren't worthy of you kissing back."

"I wouldn't say that. Anyway, the bottle?"

Oh, right, the game. I looked down, and saw it was pointing at me.

"Oh!" I glanced up at Russel, glad to be free of the previous line of inquiry. "You landed on me!"

Russ chuckled.

"Yeah, 'spose I did. Your choice, then? Truth or kiss?"

I bit my lip and squinted over his shoulder, faking an inquisitive look.

"Hmm, tough decision. I suppose I'll go with kiss. That okay with you?"

"Yeah, why not."

I shrugged. Russel shrugged. I scooted off my pillow and shuffled over to him on my knees. See, where I was expecting a very commanding kiss and a very masculine response I received neither. As I leaned in to kiss him, his hand came up to support my face, and he let me take control of the action. Remembering Emerald's tutelage, I kept my teeth parted and my lips pushed out and rounded, maintaining the 'mouth' word shape on my lips. I was definitely surprised by the professionalism and skill that Russ demonstrated, and he was very receptive of my inexperience. It was, actually, quite pleasant. Didn't feel awkward, either. I did feel a little embarrassed at the Hollywood-quality 'smeck' noise we made as our lips parted, though. I hid my blush with a short chuckle as I relaxed my butt onto my heels

"There. That was alright."

I scooted back to my pillow as Russ leaned back against his beanbag.

"So that's what kissing girls is like. I can certainly see the appeal."

"Oh, hardy-har, Russel."

He laughed and handed me the bottle.

"No, you were good. It's your turn."

I rolled my eyes and accepted the bottle. It spun freely, counter-clockwise this time, and came to a slow stop pointing right back at me.

"Ah, shit. Can't really kiss myself, can I?"

Em kicked the bottle back at me with a socked foot.

"Spin again, dork."

"I mean, I could turn my face inside out– fine, I'll spin again."

I spun it again, this time right-handed and clockwise. As it was spinning, Em reached over with her foot and kicked Jaune in the arm.

"Can I ask you a question, Jaune?"

"I don't see why not."

She squinted at him.

"Have you ever seen a naked woman?"

Jaune smiled at the carpet.

"You know, it's funny, Weiss asked me the same question a little while ago. You guys seem really interested in whether or not I've seen women in states of undress."

Em groaned.

"Okay, since you're an expert in deflection, I'll just ask Weiss," she turned to me. "So what'd he say?"

I shrugged.

"Yeah, apparently he say his sister's girlfriend at two in the morning or something when he was little. Back in Marseille."

"And?" she turned to look at him, but kept her tone directed to me. "What did he think?"

I snickered as Jaune blushed and crossed his arms.

"Apparently she was hot. Huge tits."

"Hmm," Em grinned that hot, coy smile. "Sounds like Jaune likes boobs."

"I think Jaune just likes women."

Russ chuckled.

"Actually, with the way he kissed me, I wouldn't be so sure about that, girls."

Jaune kicked Russel.

"Shut the hell up. I thought we were playing a game, not playing 'Pick On Jaune'."

"Oh, shit, the game!"

I glanced down at the bottle again. It was pointing at Russel. The boy chuffed slightly.

"Me again, huh." he glanced up at me. "I guess I could go for another kiss."

I nodded.

"Sure, no problem."

I scooted off my pillow again and back over to Russel. As I leaned back up to kiss him again, his hand came up and brushed some of my hair back behind my ear and gently cupped the side of my face. I don't know if this is common for all boys, but Russel's lips were very soft without being poofy, yet they had the firmness of a ripe peach. This time felt a little more awkward, as Russ had clearly figured out my idiosyncratic method of mouth-affection and had adjusted his technique accordingly. This time the kiss was deeper, smoother, and much more passionate than a one-second smooch should have been. I'll admit I felt a bit longing as we pulled apart.

Russ took it much better than me, easily playing it off with humour.

"Man, kissing girls is fun. Why'd I never do it before now?"

Em grinned, sitting up straighter.

"Right? SO much fun!"

Russel grinned back at her.

"We should kiss girls more often!"

"Hell yeah we should!"

"Yeah!" Russ grabbed the bottle and spun it again. It stopped on Emerald. "Well, that's convenient."

This got me out of my embarrassed funk. I laughed and slapped him on the knee.

"Well, there you go, Russ. You can kiss more girls."

"Fuck yeah."

Russel sat up onto his knees and slid the bottle out of the way, and Em did the same, putting her drink down and shimmying up to him until their knees touched. There didn't seem to be any awkwardness between the two of them. This was just a regular thing to them. And because of this, they seemed to be really fucking good at it. For the two and a half seconds their lips were touching, I couldn't figure out who was being more dominant between them, almost like Em and Russ considered each other equals in the art of mouth combat. After they separated and sat back in their respective seats, they maintained a most elegant composure that Jaune and I were clearly struggling with.

"Gosh, Russel, you kiss like a girl."

"Funny, I was gonna say the same thing about you."

Em chuckled and picked up the bottle.

"I strive for authenticity. My turn."

Em spun the bottle. It landed on me. I tried not to be too relieved.

"I choose kiss."

"Eager, aren't you."

I flushed.

"Shuddup. Your game sucks."

Em grinned, baring her pearly whites.

"I think I have plenty of game, but that's just my opinion. C'mere with your face."

I scooted over to her. Much like Russel, surprisingly, Em's hands cupped my face as she pulled my face to hers. Just the same as earlier, Em's lips were warm and inviting, and took a considerable effort to not give in to my lesser desires and just not stop kissing. Again, it only lasted a moment but I definitely felt the cold room air return to my face as we separated. I definitely preferred kissing Emerald to Russel, but probably more because she was who I learned with, making it weirdly more comfortable. The same way you feel uncomfortable with a new hockey stick after having spent ten years with the old one and gotten used to it.

Of course, Russ and Jaune had to ruin the moment with their snickering.

"That was hot." Russ interrupted, making me turn with a glare. "I'm not usually into girl-on-girl stuff but that was hot."

Jaune nodded, his cheeks a hilarious shade of red.

"Yeah, I'll agree with that."

I pouted and let Em put me back in my seat, taking the bottle from her outstretched hand. The game continued for a few rounds in silence, only broken by the sound of lip smacking.

I spun the bottle. It landed on Emerald again. I kissed Em again.

Em spun the bottle, it landed on Russ, she kissed him again.

Russ spun the bottle, it landed back on Jaune, and with an eager glint in his eye, Russ kissed Jaune again.

And finally, it was Jaune's turn. He seemed… stressed was a word for it. Russel handed him the bottle with a smirk and a dramatic flourish of his wrist as Jaune took it. The bottle hit the carpet, and Jaune glanced at each of us in turn. Russ batted his eyelashes, almost seductively. Emerald batted her eyelashes, actually seductively. Jaune sighed.

"Why am I friends with you guys?"

He spun the bottle. I held my breath. Not because I was hoping it would land on me or anything, I just enjoyed holding my breath. You know, for fun. And stuff. I'm not weird.

The bottle stopped on Emerald.

"Oh-hoh," she said, sitting up straighter. "Well this is a unique opportunity."

"Ugh. Make your choice."

Emerald grinned.

"Don't sound so down, Jaune. I don't have cooties… anymore."

For a brief moment, Jaune smiled.

"Whatever. I guess I know what your choice is."

"You very much do."

Em leaned forward and puckered her lips, her eyes closed. Jaune looked at those lips for a moment, a perplexed glare in his eyes, before relenting. He leaned forward out of his spot, and planted his mouth on Emerald's. It was only a peck, and it lasted no more than a beat, but that didn't stop a shooting twang of jealousy from rocketing up my spine and into that spot just between my ears.

"There. Your turn. Wait, what are you smiling about?"

Em bit her lower lip, still grinning. She leaned back and turned her head in my direction.

"I kissed Jaune before Weiss did."

I turned red and crossed my arms.

"That's not strictly true." Jaune interrupted before I could make a comment.

Em narrowed her eyes.

"Excuse me?"

Jaune shrugged.

"I'm just saying it's not strictly true. Anyway, it's your turn. Spin the stupid bottle."

Emerald sent a suspicious glare in Jaune's direction, and spun the bottle. She didn't even look at who it landed on, and just played as if it had stopped facing him.

"Jaune, I have a question for you."

Jaune went on the defensive, cheeks turning pink.

"I haven't made my choice yet."

"Irrelevant. Did you take a shower with Weiss on the night of the Christmas Show?"

My heart froze in my chest. Without even missing a beat, Jaune answered.

"Yes."

Emerald's eyebrows reached orbit.

"Really, now."

"We were pressed for time. We practiced some guitar together, watched The Wall, fell asleep, and woke up at five after eight. We didn't have time to take separate showers. She suggested a collaboration."

Emerald flashed Jaune her award-winning evil grin again, arms crossed over her stomach.

"You have two separate showers in two separate bathrooms in your house, Jaune. Why did you let Weiss convince you to shower together?"

Jaune, for the first time, grinned right on back, not breaking eye contact.

"You only get one question. Now it's my turn."

He snatched up the bottle. I breathed a sigh of relief.

/…/

January 1st, 2006

It was about two in the morning by this point. I was standing in Russel's kitchen, staring up at the moon through the sliding glass door to the back deck. I don't really know why I was doing that, I just couldn't sleep. The 'couldn't sleep' part was probably from the vast quantity of sugar and caffeine in my blood from all the apple cobbler and Coke I had consumed during the party. Also that big bag of sour gummy worms. And then the bag of Swedish Berries. And then most of an entire chocolate cheesecake that I had shared with Emerald. Actually, in hindsight the 'couldn't sleep' status effect was probably from the stomach ache. A teenager can in fact consume too much sugar. A crash was coming, and it would probably suck.

"Ahem."

I jolted from the sound, and turned my head around to face it. It was Jaune, leaning against the kitchen doorframe with his hands in the pockets of his onesie. In the dim moonlight coming across the kitchen, he looked friggin' adorable.

"Oh, you're up too?"

He nodded.

"Yep. Guess you can't sleep either?"

"Too many sweets. What about you?"

He shrugged and pushed off the wall, sauntering over and standing next to me. He looked up at the moon, and I tried not to stare so intensely at the side of his face, so excellently shadowed by the glow.

"I, uh, Russel elbowed me in the face and woke me up."

I snickered and looked back up through the glass at the moon.

"That sucks."

"Not really. What sucks is when I rolled over to confront him about it or shove him further away from me, he kneed me in the penis as hard as he could. While sleeping."

I covered my crotch and winced in sympathy.

"Ouch. Was that what that grunt was that I heard about a half hour ago?"

Jaune nodded again.

"Yup. I tried to just roll over and ignore the pain, but I just couldn't."

"I don't blame you."

"Yeah. I just lay there for a while in agony, the pain subsided enough that I could breathe again, but I was definitely too awake at that point. I heard some footsteps coming from up here, figured I'd come investigate until the pain went completely away."

I looked down at Jaune's crotch for a moment, then back up at his face.

"Can you still feel it now?"

"Oh, hell yeah," his face turned and he looked down at me. "I'm gonna feel this for hours."

I smirked back up at him.

"Did you want me to kiss it better for you or something?"

Jaune, knowing I was kidding, just smiled and looked back up through the window.

"No, I'm okay, thank you."

We stood in silence for a few minutes, just staring up at the moon and the few stars that weren't muted out by light pollution. I sniffled a few times, ruining the mood. Jaune finally broke the silence.

"The stars are beautiful tonight."

I chuckled to myself.

"What, are you gonna neuralize me?"

Jaune glanced down at me for a moment.

"What, no. I was literally just making mention," he paused. "...Of my opinion of the stars."

I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, okay."

"Although, if you could look at the top of this device for me–"

I laughed and elbowed him in the hip.

"Shuddup."

Another moment of calm hung in the air. I rubbed my eye on the back of my sleeve, and yawned. Maybe the caffeine was wearing off, maybe it was just placebo.

"Hey, uh, sorry about Em's game," I said, quietly. "I know you probably were uncomfortable."

Jaune shrugged.

"No more than usual. Thanks, though."

"The bottle seemed rigged in my opinion. You kept landing on Russel."

Jaune nodded, still looking up at the moon.

"Yeah. Maybe it was. We never landed on each other, either."

I shivered. It wasn't from the cold.

"Y-yeah." I bit my lip. "Did you want it to?"

Jaune yawned.

"It would have at least been fair if it landed equally on everyone."

Another chill ran up my spine.

"Right. F-fair. Of course."

"I dunno, Emerald probably rigged the game so she could ask me increasingly intrusive questions and watch boys kissing. She's surprisingly manipulative when she wants to be."

I chuckled.

"Oh, don't be so hard on her. Besides, you got to watch me and Em kiss a bunch, wasn't that hot?"

"Oh, incredibly. I'm just glad she got tired of it when she did. I didn't bring any lip chap with me, and I'm sure poor Russel was noticing."

I smiled at my reflection in the glass.

"It's cute that you care about him. And how he feels about kissing you."

"Well, I'd want to make sure anybody I kiss feels good."

There was that damn shiver again.

"Admirable quality, Jaune."

"Thank you," he paused for a moment. "Actually, Weiss?"

I turned my face up to look at him.

"Hmm?"

I think my body reacted on instinct at this point. I don't know what triggered it. Might have been his fingertips gingerly placed against that spot behind my ear. Might have been the creak of the hardwood as he leaned his body into my personal space. Maybe it was just the feeling of the air rushing out of the way to give him room to do so. All I know for sure is that as soon as I felt something contact my lips, my eyes closed and I let in a tiny gasp through my nose.

This wasn't normal. I should have jumped, I should have yelped. I think. Jaune, suddenly invading my personal space. Something he never did. Something I didn't think him capable of. But alas, here I was being proved wrong once more. And I didn't know I was okay with it.

See, kissing Emerald earlier in the day was weird, yet somehow comfortable. It was a learning experience. Her lips were warm, welcome, and practiced. I felt safe with her. She understood how I was feeling, and how to make me not feel so awkward. She was my best friend, and kissing her felt exactly how I wanted it to. It didn't change how we felt about each other. It just felt 'nice', or whatever that meant.

And then kissing Russel during Em's stupid game was also a weirdly comfortable experience, because I'm pretty sure he wasn't going to harbour any romantic feelings for me after putting his mouth on my mouth. Russel's experience, similar to Emerald's, made me feel like I wasn't so ill-equipped for kissing, seeing as I had never been in any sort of romantic relationship before where I might have gained such experience. Kissing him was also 'nice'.

But this was different. This was… unknown territory. I was definitely scared. But every fight-or-flight reaction in my body had turned off, replaced by only one command; reciprocate. And I did. As soon as Jaune's lips touched mine and my eyes lidded closed, I kissed back. And this was no 'peck on the lips', this was definitely more intimate than I had been trained for. No tongue, nothing like that, but his mouth was definitely more relaxed and open. And so I mirrored him. Lips apart, lips closed. Lips apart again, lips closed. It was… surreal. Lips apart again, lips closed.

I thought I'd be the one to pull away first, but I wasn't. This went on for what felt like in my head about twenty minutes. And that's how I choose to remember it, even though it was actually only about thirty seconds. I was sweating as we separated, mutually, with the tiniest line of saliva sticking between our lips, silently broken as our faces drifted apart, and I could swear I felt his nose brush against mine. I had to stop myself from leaning back in and up as he pulled further away, an unbelievable feeling of loneliness suddenly falling over my lips.

My eyes fluttered open as Jaune regained his posture and composure.

"There."

My brain barely was able to let me speak, still on full emergency alert.

"W-wh-wha–"

"In case you were feeling left out earlier."

I had been. He'd noticed.

"Uh–"

"And if you weren't, you can call that your first kiss of two-thousand and six."

Right, that stupid tradition. Stupid first kiss of the new year, stupid Jaune for thinking about it.

"Uh-hmm–"

I still couldn't talk. Or think straight. I was a fucking mess. Jaune turned and started back towards the kitchen door. Don't go, I wanted to say. But couldn't. I just turned, my mouth still fizzing as he sauntered back away.

"Goodnight, Weiss. And Happy New Year. Cute jammies, by the way."

Yeah, I don't remember much after that.