that was supposed to be a joke but if im anything it's inconsistent

Truth be told - Jaune didn't sleep well that night. While in the heat of the moment, and thinking quite a bit about his sisters (at first, that is), Jaune hadn't focused much on the actual feeling of what he had been doing. But now, alone in his bed, with no distractions?

It was all he could think about.

The feeling of her smooth back, gradually growing slick with sweat under his palms, unblemished and gorgeous skin kneaded beneath his deft fingers-

Each knead of his fingers, at least later in the massage, resulting in a throaty groan that reverberated through every inch of her gorgeous form, sounding all too pleasured for what he was doing because she was practically moaning-

The sight of her back, cascading locks of gold shimmering in the light, occasionally framing his fingers in a sight that he wished he could have a picture of if only for the sheer beauty of her hair and tanned skin-

Not to mention what she had said to him, in that sultry voice at the end, resulting in way too many images-

Jaune shifted in his bed again, the number of which he had lost track of. Try as he might, and he did try, the images would not go away. Every time he closed his eyes he could see it, replaying itself over and over again, interspersed with images of his fingers sinking into the supple, firm cheeks of her-

He bit back a cry of frustration, finally pulling himself out of bed and into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. Why did she have to say that? Why did she say it at all?

He knew. She had been joking, which was obvious. A little light hearted throwaway comment to segue from an awkward silence. She probably just wanted to get him out of the room.

He sighed, the images losing some of their luster. He should have been grateful that he could focus again, but that niggling little part in the back of his mind yearned to see them again, to keep imagining. He sighed again, feeling his way back to his bed, smiling gently at Nora's obnoxious snoring.

Of course, he was not done worrying over things, and now that space had been made in his mind it was what Blake had said that began to replay itself.

"Same room, tomorrow night. Don't be late."

She must have been joking, right? Of course she wasn't, Blake didn't joke with him. He wasn't an idiot, he imagined she must have heard her partner with how loud Yang was being. He hadn't pegged her as the type that would be interested in something simply because of how her partner reacted, but he could also imagine that Yang reacting in such a way was out of the ordinary. Still, asking him? He wasn't interesting.

Oh sure, he'd followed his mom's advice of "Be confident!" but it didn't take long for the truth to set in. Confidence wasn't a replacement for a sheer lack of substance. He might be funny (quirky, more likely), but it was pointless unless he had something beneath that.

'Yang seemed to think your massaging skills had substance,' whispered an oft silent corner of his brain, which the remaining 96% scoffed off the stage. As if.

He groaned, digging himself deeper into his pillow. The only thing this was doing was ensuring that he got even less sleep.

Pointed reminders from himself tended not to work, but it's the effort that counts, right?

Across the hall, Yang was growing more and more concerned by the minute. Now, Yang liked to consider herself a very confident, headstrong person, who was rarely thrown off balance. And to be honest, she really was. Ever since she'd been faced with a pack of beowolves and cowered, only to be saved by her uncle, she had resolved to never be shaken like that again. But if there was one thing worrying enough to make her toss and turn restlessly in bed, it was the fact that Weiss had not returned yet.

She wasn't worried for her teammate, no no. It didn't happen frequently but Weiss had been out late before, usually because she lost track of time in a training module. Either that or she got buried in a book in the library, or fell asleep in the shower (Yang's mind helpfully supplied the affronted, stuffy 'hey!' to complete that funny image.) But Weiss had overheard her Massage and she knew well what she had sounded like. She certainly wouldn't admit it to Blake but what started as a joke had gotten a bit out of hand near the end as she realized she wasn't pretending anymore. When the jokes and conversation had died down and Jaune had really started to get into it, his touch alone had seemed to soothe her aching back, not even counting the pleasant feeling of the actual massage-

Yang blinked, shaking her head slightly as she shooed the commentary out of the spotlight, briefly perturbed at how quickly that train of thought had gotten away from her.

"Go toss and turn outside, Yang," Blake grumbled from below her, and Yang giggled despite her still-growing trepidation. Still, that did raise a point, and Yang was never very comfortable waiting around. Might as well go find Weiss herself. Her bent knees softened the impact as she dropped from the bed, shooting an easy smile to her partner who had suddenly sat up, worried that the blonde had actually been upset. Concerns alleviated, Blake slipped back down under her covers as Yang strode to the door, marvelling once more at the lack of stiffness in her back, still tingling from feeling Jaune's-

Yang froze, clamping down on the thought as she closed the door behind her. Twice now specifically about him, and she certainly wasn't infatuated. She would have acted far differently were that the case, teasing him in less subtle ways ('But is moaning really very subtle?' something whispered in her head.) Like slipping down the fabric of her-

Yang lightly slapped herself across the face, not even letting that thought get started. This was ridiculous, she knew what infatuation felt like, she knew what crushes felt like, this was most certainly not one of those cases. She was probably still riding the sense of relaxation from the massage, nothing more-

"Yang?"

Yang focused, taking a full second and a half to register the shower of pale hair before her, and the somewhat guarded, wary expression.

"Weiss, I would never," she began without preamble, refusing to give this situation any opportunity for misunderstanding, feeling a sense of relief, undercut by a twinge of pain, as she realized that Weiss hadn't fully believed that beforehand, watching the pale girl's expression soften.

"Right, yeah, I believe you," Weiss murmured, tension visibly fading from her body as she powered down the scroll Yang hadn't noticed until the light was gone.

"You better," Yang grunted in response, opening the door for the both of them, "That's disgusting."

"Doing it in the room or with him?" Came the light, teasing voice from Blake, to which Yang responded by impulsively grabbing Ruby's pillow and nailing her in the face with it, refusing to give an answer, before shrinking and whispering a hushed apology as Ruby woke confused and bleary-eyed.

Having alleviated that concern, she expected sleep to come a bit easier.

It didn't.

In hindsight, he really shouldn't have expected sleep to resolve the maelstrom in his head. Some vain hope had sparked to life in his head as he finally found opening his eyes harder than keeping them closed, but that had been dashed as he had finished the shower. Thankfully, and unexpectedly, his dreams had remained untouched by his prior...mood? Mindset? State-of-being-trapped-in-memories-of-Yang's-soft-

Jaune repressed a loud groan, screwing his eyes shut as he rubbed his forehead and distractedly doodled something on his notebook before sitting up a bit straighter as he felt an elbow brush against his arm. He waved off Pyrrha's concerned glance with a smile that he didn't entirely feel, tuning his ears back to the instructor as Weiss finished rattling an answer off - something about the differences of tactics employed by Humans and Faunus. It did bug him how distracted he was in arguably his favorite class, but he also imagined that focusing on being distracted likely wasn't helping at all.

"Ah, Jaune! You next - question three of the reading?"

He paused for a moment, blinking the distraction out of his eyes and flicked through his notes, pleased that he had something functional as an answer.

"Yeah, uh, the Strømæl project?" He asked for clarification, absentmindedly registering Port's enthusiastic nod, clearly pleased he had pronounced the name correctly. Seeing his affirmative, Jaune glanced back down at the notes he and Pyrrha had gone over last night, before he had heard Yang while stepping out to get a snack, and then got sidetracked-

He sighed, squeezing a fist as he absentmindedly rattled of the answer, barely paying attention to what it was as he'd checked the textbook quite thoroughly at Pyrrha's behest. Port enthusiastically took over once he'd cleared through the material required for the question, allowing Jaune to return to his previous state of, well, focus would be a strong word considering the numerous distractions throughout the day, but whatever.

Much as he'd like to claim he didn't know why he was so affected, it was pretty obvious when he actually took a few seconds to think through it. Still, he liked to imagine it was unusual to be so strongly affected by the events that had occurred last night, but he didn't exactly have an established metric to base such a claim off of. All he had were his own experiences, and apparently even venturing in that direction caused every thought train of his to catastrophically derail.

He repressed a sigh, realizing he was rapidly approaching a sigh every minute and that would just be a disaster. Still, at the end of the day, there was no value in dwelling on what had happened, especially because it surely wouldn't happen- oh right, Blake. While the temptation to break his newly established edict of no sighs was tempting, it wouldn't actually do much except to make Pyrrha even more concerned for him. So, he soldiered on, doing his best to realign his focus towards the portly-ugh- professor talking about faunus training programs.

This, of course, was the perfect time for him to accidentally lock eyes with Yang. Flushing slightly at the memories such a sight brought back, he made to give a half smile and look away before she winked, turning back with a faint smile of her own, and consequently destroyed all the progress he'd made since the previous night to focus and not think about his eventful yesterday evening.

Yes. Now he was certain. Today's class was going to be long.

Yang supposed that she should have felt troubled by the fact that the wink and half smile and (apparently unnoticed) wiggle of her hips came so easily, but more and more she was beginning to write it off as a little joke and nothing more. The fact that she acknowledged who exactly she was trying to convince with those thoughts wasn't very helpful, and her mind kept hearkening back to her little comment, made in the heat of the moment and one she was beginning to question just how much of was actually a joke.

However, as Port called on her to answer question six and she fumbled for her hastily scrawled notes, such thoughts did not take their leave like they should have and instead parked themselves spitefully in place, making focusing on her response extra difficult. Still, she managed, somehow, and the day carried on.

Jaune had noticed, once he paused to think of exactly what that little shake had been, and had nearly choked on his drink when he realized the subtext it gave her wink, and it was back to square one again.

"So, Jaune?" Pyrrha asked, watching his shoulders slump, the meaning of which was surprisingly difficult to decipher, despite how long they had worked together. However, his still shoddy control of his aura radiating the near despair he felt at her question was a far easier response to unpack.

"U-uh, yeah, Pyrrha?" He asked, not quite looking her in the eyes as he usually did when he was embarrassed or ashamed or worried or- well, there were a lot of potential reasons, really.

She smiled pleasantly, trying to seem welcoming and open which apparently seemed to work as his shoulders came back up a hair, before asking, "What was going on in class today?"

His shoulders fell down again, but that was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

"I, uh, I don't suppose you'll accept 'nothing' as an answer here, huh?"

Her smile thinned a bit and he nodded with a sigh, seeming to glower for a moment before the expression faded.

"I, uh, it's nothing bad," he stressed, immediately sparking a tiny flame of wariness in her body, "I, um," he paused again, groaning in frustration and scratching his head, "IgaveYangamssageyesteray."

She blinked a few times, tilting her head with a quizzical expression, one he apparently liked as his expression lightened and he seemed to exhale slightly sharper out his nose.

"S-sorry, I, uh, I gave Yang a m-massage yesterday and, well, she really seemed to like it and she was making some loud noises and it was a bit weird and then Blake was there and I," he paused, ceasing in his frantic rambling as he rubbed his forehead, "I just- I just can't pull my mind away from that and it's, well, it's really distracting, obviously."

She stared at him, getting a small amount of amusement at the way his expression changed as the silence dragged on. Still, there would be no point in letting him get even more off-balance, and it wasn't like she was mad at him.

"I see," she began, shifting her weight and setting her fork down, chicken forgotten, "I imagined it was something to do with Yang, given the way you were avoiding looking at her, but you… massaged her? Is that why you took so long to get a snack?" she asked.

He flushed, to which she smiled gently to convey she wasn't upset. "Um, yeah, I heard her cry out, she was in a lot of pain, something about Peach's rules about posture?" he ventured, to which she nodded, familiar with those particular class rules.

"Yeah, and, well, she definitely had some knots in her back, though I've taken a Peach class and never felt that bad…"

Pyrrha decided not to mention the fact that he wasn't quite as topheavy, figuring that wouldn't do anything but derail the conversation even more.

"So, um, yeah, I gave her a back massage and I guess it wasn't terrible and it's really hard to focus and Pyrrha gimme something here please," he pleaded, to which she smiled apologetically and turned all her attention back to the present discussion.

"Well, your struggle to focus is completely understandable," she began, watching his expression intently enough to see the minute changes, to better appease his worries and frustrations. Seeing that it was lightening, she continued that angle of attack. "I assume, considering it was a back massage, that she removed her shirt?" At his nod (and blush) she nodded in return. "Well, that must have felt rather intimate, I imagine, and especially considering she is both a friend and sometimes teammate it certainly would cause one to have, mmm, let's say 'discomforting' feelings."

He nodded again, slightly more subdued as he likely explored his own thought processes.

"So, yes, it's entirely reasonable to feel what you're feeling, expected, even. Unfortunately there isn't exactly an easy way to calm down after an event like this, I expect at least, but no, this isn't unusual, and yes, it's entirely understandable. As for what happens next, that, unfortunately, is entirely on you to determine," she said, giggling slightly as his expression fell once more, but nowhere near as far as it had been previously. With that, she considered her job done, and added as a passing thought, "Although, I must say I am quite interested in your skills as a Masseur. Perhaps you could also give me a massage, at some point?"

She tried to ignore how much work in calming him down she had just undone, judging by his baffled and flushing expression.

Why Pyrrha just had to go and say that was fundamentally beyond him. She had just gone through the process of calming him down and assuring him that what he was feeling was normal, and then she went and sparked the dust again.

He sighed, ruffling his hair with a frustrated sigh, having read the same sentence of his textbook over and over for the past two minutes. He knew she couldn't have meant to call images like these to his mind, and probably just meant it in passing, but it was certainly getting to him, imagining her back laid bare to him, olive skin soft under his touch, her voice-

He growled, soft to the point of being nearly inaudible, his forehead thumping against the textbook angrily. She was his friggin teammate! He didn't want to think about her like that, even though some mutinous part of his brain whispered how frequently hunting teammates ended up in relationships with each other.

Much as he wished for it to cease, images of his massage for Yang began to play again, this time with Pyrrha pasted over Yang's figure, scarlet instead of gold blinding him. His fingers trailing down her back, towards her waist next time I'll let you massage my-

He physically pushed himself backwards, roughly slapping himself across the face with a hiss, thankful he had chosen to study in the back of the library. He was not going to think of her like that! Not going to think about the few times she had worn pajamas pulled just a hair tighter, or when her legs moved and pulled her sash just so-

He screamed internally.

The clock struck eight. His screaming got louder.

It was time. Much as he didn't want it to be so, much as he wished he could put this off, he knew he best not. With someone else that might have worked, but if there was one thing his sparse missions with Blake had told him about the girl was that she was stubborn, and it was best if he just got this over with. So, with a stomach filled to bursting with butterflies, and a brain so exhausted from lack of sleep and a day filled with trying not to think about his various female peers that it couldn't even supply a joke about said stomach to alleviate his nerves, he knocked against the room to RWBY's dorm room-

-and realized immediately that he had no idea what to say if someone other than Blake opened the door.

Before his heart could actually stop beating, the door opened promptly and Blake gestured for him to step inside. He did, after a beat or two or seven of hesitation, shutting the door behind him with a single, shaky hand.

For a moment they both stood in an increasingly awkward silence, Jaune fidgeting quietly before the dam inside him burst, asking the question he'd been sitting on since last night.

"Why do you want a massage?"

"Because I've never heard Yang so… vocal about something like that," Blake responded immediately, clearly having expected the question from him.

"I'm pretty sure she was just trying to tease me." He responded after a brief pause, having considered that as a response he could get.

She only stared back, not responding to the vague note of self-contempt in his voice, before shrugging and saying in turn, "I'll be the judge of that."

He nodded without a word, seeming...not more comfortable, but less tense, perhaps. Not near at ease yet, but more resigned. In silence, she turned away from him, slipping her undershirt off to reveal bandages snugly wrapped around her torso, spanning from the crooks of her arms to just beneath the swell of her breasts.

Shamefully, despite having figured this would happen, it still took him a good several seconds to remind himself what he was doing in the room and tear his eyes off the sight of her toned back and shoulders. Whereas Yang, while she didn't have broad shoulders, certainly had more muscle, Blake was absolutely on the lithe side, not as if he could or would draw a comparison between the two, but-

He shook his head slightly, knowing this was neither the place nor time for these thoughts.

Then, he frowned slightly. He figured she probably wouldn't want him messing with the fabric and didn't have near a large enough death wish to try and remove them. However, they limited the range at which he could actually massage her, especially where she might have the tightest knots judging by her throwing-intensive style of combat. However, he wasn't here to sit and stare at her back, despite how pleasant a sight-

He barely restrained himself from growling audibly, knowing she would probably be getting impatient at this rate. Finally, knowing there'd be no going back now, he raised his hands.

His fingers brushed across her back and shoulders, barely grazing her skin at first, then pressing deeper around her shoulder blades and upper arms, a scant few centimeters above her bindings. After a few moments of this fluttering contact his thumbs started to dig into her shoulders, sending jolts of pain from her aching muscles through her body.

It didn't feel moan worthy, though, but before she could point this out Jaune spoke.

"Huh, I thought you were ambidextrous?"

She blinked, surprised at the sudden comment, before sighing and rolling her eyes. "Just because I dual wield-"

"Nonononono," he interrupted, "you favor your right arm for throwing."

"...We haven't gone on near enough missions for you to figure that out," she said, almost in disbelief, turning to look at him over her shoulder, hissing as his palm dug into a particularly sore knot.

"Yeah, but your right shoulder and, uh," he waved a hand in the general direction of her arm, "that bit have tighter knots than your left, even though the sheath of gambol shroud doesn't weigh any more than the, uh, the other bit."

"The katana?"

"Is it a katana? Never seemed long enough to me…"

She hummed. Jaune was more observant than she'd expected - not that she'd expected anything at all, but hindsight and all that. "How did you figure out the identical weight?" she asked, "you've never held them, as far as I know."

"Well, uhh…" he trailed off, sounding embarrassed.

She turned, quirking an eyebrow. "Been watching me?" she asked with a slight curl in her lips.

He coughed, not looking at her, "Not, um, staring or anything weird, I watch people fight a lot…"

She hummed again, wondering if it was a good time to comment on the lackluster nature of his massage yet.

His hands slowed even more, "I loved reading soldiers journals, especially my ancestors'," he said wistfully, hands moving in simple, circular motions, "they described over and over how much you could tell about someone by watching them move and fight, so I, well, I tried it? Started watching a lot of historical documentaries for that same sorts thing - never publically funded stuff, y'know?"

She nodded, well familiar with the bias in such media forms.

"Ah, s-sorry, I didn't mean to uh, ramble."

"It's alright," she commented, before asking, "So it was your lack of experience, not knowledge, that resulted in your performance in the arena?"

She could imagine Jaune's slightly defeated expression as he chuckled, "Uh, yeah, I guess?"

The two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, Jaune's hands still moving slow.

"You know, Yang seemed to be enjoying herself a great deal," Blake began, not caring too much for the fact that she was repeating obvious knowledge, feeling Jaune's hands pause. "Now, this isn't terrible and all, but…"

"Ah, well, that's probably because she had more sk-uhhh, n-nevermind…" Jaune trailed off, hands freezing in place on her shoulders.

"More what?" She asked, curiosity coloring her tone.

"More uh, more skin showing since, um, you're wearing wraps?" Jaune said, voice trembling ever so faintly.

Oh.

"That makes sense," she muttered, even though it kinda didn't, but the first step of troubleshooting was trying things even if they didn't seem like they'd work, so she tossed a "Right, gimme a sec." over her shoulder. Call her impulsive, but she knew her partner, and while she was prone to teasing at the drop of a hat the noises from yesterday did not fit the bill at all. There was a stark difference between deliberately over-exaggerated sex noises and actual groans of appreciation.

Jaune barely had time to process her swiftly undoing the bandages, yelping as he turned away, trying and utterly failing not to imagine what she'd look like if she turned around.

"Continue," she said, voice still as mild and steady as before. Tentatively, he rested his palms on her shoulders, then trailed his fingers down between her shoulder blades, to the places he hadn't been able to reach with her wraps in the way, once more grazing his fingertips across her back to feel for the knots he guessed would be there, and felt a small flicker of satisfaction when his estimate was dead-on.

Overcome with a sudden sense of twinged pride, ignited by that flicker, Jaune spoke up as he pressed his palms firmly into her lower muscle groups, digging his thumbs into the two most prominent knots he was able to find. "I was also, um, focused on talking to-"

He paused, blinking rapidly. Had she just - had she just moaned?

Experimentally, he dug his thumb into the same spot, twisting upwards as he kneaded his palm into-

She gasped this time, head rocking backwards an inch or two, leaning heavily into his hands. "Wh-what are you d-doinah!" She gasped again, unable to finish her question as spike of pain shot through her back, undercut, however, by the overwhelming feeling of relief as tense muscles were coaxed into relaxing.

"Uh," Jaune began, worry setting into his mind, "Should I stop-"

"No!" She gasped again, voice hitting pitches Jaune didn't think she was capable of as she leaned back into his hands, shoulders trembling ever so faintly as he began to venture further out, experimentally pressuring the tighter tendons in her neck as he simultaneously attacked the most prominent knots in her back.

The response was almost humorous, if only because of how stoic Blake typically seemed in their interactions. In respect to that this was almost ridiculous, although, the armchair psychologist in him piped up, she likely just repressed her reactions in ordinary circumstances to maintain the image she upheld. After all, it wasn't as if she actually didn't feel these things, she just chose not to show them. But, if built up enough…

Her breath caught again, her body seemingly unable to decide whether to squirm or press against his fingers. She shuddered, gently biting her lower lip as tension she hadn't even realized she was feeling was coaxed away by his deft hands - his massage from minutes earlier had nothing on this, and she dazedly realized that Yang's moans from the previous night, which certainly might have been over-exaggerated at first, were definitely grounded in a legitimate response.

She'd never been to a massage parlor before, so she didn't exactly have experience to compare to, but this was incredible.

Accordingly, the sounds escaping her lips began to take on a tone reflective of such...appreciation.

Outside, Weiss' hand stilled at the door. She listened, repressed the initial reaction of rage, pondered, and then sighed angrily, letting go of the doorknob and turning back to face Yang, who had just caught up. She said nothing, silently walking away as Yang released the breath she had been holding, having lost sight of her when Weiss wised up to the fact that she was being steered away from the dorm room.

Ignorant of the going-ons outside of the dorm room, and likely uncaring in that moment even if he did know, Jaune's mind continued to spiral down into the gutter despite how shameful it made him feel. In all fairness, of course, there was a very pretty girl who was sitting in front of him, topless, leaning into his hands and moaning at his touch as he worked stress and tightness out of her back. A vaguely dirty thought here and there was surely par the course.

That didn't mean he didn't feel a little bad about it, naturally. She was his sometimes-teammate, as Pyrrha had put it, and while he wasn't sure he could reasonably call them friends they'd studied together and fought together. Not directly, and not by active choice, but so remained the fact that they had.

At the same time, of course, Jaune was also still technically a teenager. He had long since passed the height of puberty, but his body was still a hormonal mess wracked with urges that he kept under firm lock and key.

He blinked, realizing that Blake's throaty groans had decreased slightly in intensity, absentmindedly seeking out tightness in her back to push against and feeling a minor twinge of satisfaction and, well, something he didn't want to think about when she gasped again. However, once that minor distraction had faded, he went back to most certainly not thinking shameful things about the raven-haired beauty before him.

Sadly, however, all good things had to come to end. It was strange, because even though cramps had long since begun to develop in his hands, that didn't bother him very much. Maybe it was the hormonal teenager, delighted that he'd gotten to touch a girl like he had, or maybe it was the Jaune that wanted to be friends with Blake, seeing the notable lack of tension in her relaxed frame as she leaned back into his hands. He couldn't tell, but either way this evening felt like a good thing of some kind.

His hands gently trailed off her slick back, his expression pensive as he watched her. Funny, he considered it a success. He had not been anticipating this, but could not look back and say it had been an entirely unenjoyable way to spend his time. Slowly her breathing began to calm, her shoulders still beset by a most gentle quiver (but not one of stress and tense muscles, he noted with a surprising amount of pride), and as she turned

Wait.

What?

Jaune's brain did its best impression of a train catastrophically derailing as Blake turned for a moment, granting the briefest glimpse of her chest, the opposite of what he had been staring at for the past half hour and what he had most certainly not been imagining displayed for him to see. Past the shoulders, down under her prominent collarbone, sloping into rounded, shapely, cream colored breasts, rising and falling with her weighted, husky breathing, each capped with a perked and cherry red-

Jaune's chivalrous side won out, his eyes snapping shut even as the remaining 48% of his being screamed and raged at the gorgeous sight (which he could have contentedly stared at for one or six hours) having been taken away. His mouth opened before he'd even decided what he was going to say, but the only sound he could make was a strangled groan, hands pulled back as if she had burned him.

It took her a moment to remember where she was and, far more importantly, what she was not wearing. She didn't cry out, or accuse him, which he was nearly unreasonably happy about. There was merely the sound of someone whipping around and the rustling of fabric as she presumably reapplied her bindings.

"...You can look now," she said, the first time she'd spoken coherently since he'd really gotten into it. His eyes cracked open warily to find that she'd thrown an undershirt on (one that he most definitely did not glance at and did not notice the tautness of white fabric against barely visible peaks, or the faint pink crowning either one). Her expression was an odd mixture of her usual stoicness and that sort of content relaxation that sparked an entirely different warm feeling in him.

Not the enjoyment of being able to touch a pretty girl without reproach, not the pride of giving a good massage, he was...happy, because her relaxation was visible. Even if she hadn't had back pains like Yang, which he still didn't quite understand, she had obviously held some tension in her shoulders that sleep could not work out. Now, she looked far more at ease than he'd ever seen her, and while he was proud of that, he felt an even stronger brimming warmth in his stomach, happy that she was feeling better.

The silence was a bit awkward, but not in the kind that made him want to flee. Neither of them knew what to say to the other, so they didn't try and fill it with anything.

Eventually, though, he knew he had to return to his room. Homework demanded his presence, and he realized with a barely restrained sigh that he had been so absorbed in his trepidation earlier that he forgot to tell Pyrrha he was doing this. So, despite his desire to sit here in this awkward-but-not-uncomfortable silence for some time, he began to rise to his feet.

"Jaune?" Blake interrupted, freezing him in place immediately.

"I, uhh, y-yeah?" he asked, firmly putting the image of her shirtless out of his mind and definitely not thinking about it at all.

She smiled. It wasn't a big wide grin like Yang or Ruby, it wasn't a confident smirk like Weiss, it wasn't even Blake's usually reserved smile when she watched her team do something stupid and hilarious. There was nothing incredibly special about it, it didn't make her look any different, but he couldn't help but feel like the room had gotten a bit brighter.

"Thank you," she murmured.

He smiled back, a little shaky and lopsided, rubbing the back of his head with an aching, shaking hand that he'd forgotten to steady. "A-anytime, Blake. I'm, um, h-happy I could help you feel better."

When it became clear that there was nothing else to be said, he finished rising to his feet, stretching with a tight groan as blood finally was able to properly rush into his legs, half-walking half-stumbling over to the door as the numbness he hadn't realized was present began to fade. Grasping the doorknob with one hand as his legs stabilized, he shot one last glance back at Blake, who had stood up herself, and opened it, turning back to head to his room and books-

And just about walked directly into Weiss Schnee.

A Weiss Schnee whose eyes were very narrow.

A Weiss Schnee whose very narrow eyes were staring directly at him.

He froze, as he always did, despite his fierce attempts on several occasions to not be simultaneously terrified and extremely attracted to said heiress.

She stared resolutely at him, turning after a moment to turn that same pointed gaze on Blake who, not that Jaune could see, merely raised an eyebrow.

"...A massage, huh?" Weiss asked, turning back to look at Jaune, who stared resolutely not at her eyes.

"Yep. And just a Massage," Blake spoke up, suddenly directly to his left.

Weiss' gaze drifted back to Blake, then to her wearing an undershirt as opposed to her uniform or pajama shirt, a single eyebrow lifting.

The silence stretched on, Jaune growing steadily more and more uncomfortable caught between the two. Weiss' expression didn't even twitch, face as if carved from marble, his own gaze fixed somewhere around her left ear.

Finally, after Jaune was tempted three times to check to see if he could still move, if he was dreaming, or if perhaps they'd all been put under a spell, Weiss let out a long-suffering sigh, having come to a decision of some sort, and spoke.

"Prove it."

Then, she glanced down, seeing his trembling hands, despite how still he was holding the rest of his body.

"...Tomorrow."

She stepped past him as Jaune's mind finally caught up to present events, mouth dropping open as he whirled around to, well, he wasn't even sure what he would do. Cry out, asking what the hell she was thinking? Beg her not to, because this was getting ridiculous? Let out a whoop of anticipation? He flushed on that last thought, before the door slammed as he turned, ending the conversation.

He stood in the hall, floundering for a response that some part of him knew would never come.

Weiss held up a hand before Blake could speak, pinching the bridge of her nose. After a moment, she sighed, dropping the hand with another sigh.

"I don't, I don't think you two actually, well," she grimaced, sighing again, far more aggressively this time, and turning to her bed, missing Blake's faint smirk at her teammates obvious embarrassment with the subject.

"Good, because we certainly didn't."

"And yet you are wearing a random tshirt…" Weiss muttered under her breath, a habit she'd yet to break as Blake's far superior hearing meant it was never missed.

"Took it off so he could give a better massage," Blake said in that same, factual tone, her shrug almost audible, surreptitiously kicking her still discarded wraps under the bed and thankful that Weiss hadn't looked too hard at her chest.

Weiss acquiesced to that with a tired nod before turning, sitting down on the bed, staring at her hands. This time, she remembered to keep her mouth shut.

'Why did I say that to him?'

While it had taken some time, Jaune eventually figured it was best not to ponder what the hell had gotten into Weiss to make her say something like that. Finally, he turned back to his dorm room, ready to face his homework.

"Oh, hey Jaune!"

He froze, turning, seeing Yang approach.

Watched her walk up.

Imagined her in Blake's position.

"Oh, h-hi Yang! Sorry, homework, gotta go, bye bye!"

She giggled, watching his scarlet face vanish behind the door.

...I.e I'm not actually dead the story isn't canceled (if it is I will change the title to reflect that status) it's just been in development hell for the better part of a bajillion years because finding the strength to write is...difficult, sometimes.

So yeah. I never meant to wait a year. Six months was a joke. I meant to have this out by january because i felt like a shithead for actually delaying that long but it never happened so, uh, yeah.

Sorry.

Not gonna make any promises about next chapter, other than what i said already - if I do cancel this, IF, I will add a (canceled) to the title, like I did on the last Massages.

Anyways yeah, my planning document for this story has reached 20 chapters, although that was months ago and I'm making a few changes, and I haven't even hit the peak of my overarching plans. I have a lot in mind for this travesty of a storyline. Until next time, and man it's been years since i've been able to type this-

Cheers,

Rarpee.