mom holy fuck
Weiss did not often have nightmares, but her unconscious mind was not always a pleasant place to be. While there lay a fine line between comparing upbringings and looking down on others for not being like her, in her opinion she toed that line quite well, considering she actually knew what it was like to experience her upbringing.
She may have been provided for in every circumstance, but she also had a near nonexistent childhood. She may have had the chance to attend high-class parties and dine on excellent food, but every ball was a battlefield with everyone actively looking to and successfully exploiting whoever was caught unawares. Once she was expected to interact with the world of the adults she was expected to be able to reasonably hold her own. Winter shielded her from the worst, but Jacques was unrelenting and unwilling to give her leeway. She was expected at a young age to stand up to an onslaught of criticism and attempted manipulation, with her father keeping only a close enough eye to ensure she did not harm their shared name.
She did not need, but she wanted. She had what was necessary, but lacked what was good.
Then her Mother died.
What came after didn't need remembering.
Her dreams were not all painful, cold nightmares. But to wake up from a world where one's family is whole and happy just to be reminded of the impossibility of that dream being reality was worse than many nightmares.
While she did not have such a dream, not that she remembered anyways, what tattered memories she retained did not paint an enjoyable picture. It had been a faint, minor hope, that perhaps a pleasant massage and insightful discussion might have brought happier dreams, and indeed it was possible she had dreamt of something of the sort that night, but what did it matter if she could not recall it?
No, her dreams had not changed. One act did not grant her more peace at night - it had been foolish to even hope.
...What came after was a different story. A small story, miniscule in comparison to others, but Weiss Schnee found some amount of comfort in holding the small things to her heart. It meant little in the long wrong, and in only days would be undone, but why should a morning devoid of pain in her legs not be worth celebrating? It need not be extravagant, but if she lay in bed for longer than normal to revel in the residual warmth of her covers instead of claiming the shower first, who would care enough to berate her?
"Weeiiiss? Are you dying?"
...Her partner would, apparently.
Weiss grumbled, turning to glare at her partners shadowed face, overhanging hair catching the morning light and glowing far too much from her precarious hammock-bed-monstrosity.
"I wish." She muttered dryly, closing her eyes to avoid inevitable blindness.
Ruby leaned even farther down, somehow managing to not fall off her worryingly angled bed. "Weiss, nooooo."
Weiss groaned, rubbing her face tiredly before gesturing to the bathroom door. "Go shower, Ruby. I'm tired."
As expected, Ruby lit up at the prospect of getting the shower before Weiss, who usually stepped in first and hogged it for 'wayyy too long!' She half clambered, half collapsed out of her bed, Weiss once more questioning how many days before it fell in the middle of the night and killed her, and practically dove into the bathroom.
Once more, the room was blissfully silent.
But without a groggy, post-sleep fog anymore, Weiss remembered what more there was to the 'insightful conversation' she'd had.
What happened yesterday wasn't especially special - it wasn't as though she had been inebriated, or otherwise had lost some of her inhibitions.
Would she have asked the questions she did under normal circumstances? No, of course not. But it was less a situation of "I felt so pleasured I couldn't control my tongue" and more that the environment and mood of the room had been tapered to a fine enough point to pierce the normal barrier preventing conversation of that nature from occuring-
Weiss paused, bemused by the strangeness of that particular analogy and how it had gotten away from her.
The point was, it was the same thing as having an emotional conversation with your teammate where you get things off your chest and go back to the standard dynamic the following day. It was...nice.
Didn't mean she wouldn't exaggerate her dislike of the blond now and then, if it meant fittingly snippy comment would be made. Didn't mean she'd be begging him for a massage, either. Things would continue on, but…
She sighed, finally rising, lifting her arms up to stretch muscles and pop joints, turning and swinging her legs off the bed.
...Perhaps she'd exaggerate a little less, once in a blue moon.
The sound of the shower kicked on, and having clearly been waiting for sufficiently distracting noise, Yang leaned until she could stare at Weiss. Weiss, in turn, stubbornly refused to acknowledge the look and it's joking implications and genuine questions. Yang, of course, grew impatient quickly.
"The afterglow was good enough to put you to sleep, huh~?"
Weiss twitched, finally turning a poisonous glare at the leering blonde, resisting the urge to do something as petty as raise a particular finger in response.
"If by 'afterglow' you mean," and here she floundered for a moment, before an appropriate and harder-to-sexualize word presented itself, "relaxation, then yes. I was very relaxed, and I fell asleep."
"Mmm, his fingers sure do make stress just melt off, don't they!" Yang drawled, and Weiss ground her teeth and valiantly refused to give her unbearable teammate the reaction she wanted.
Blake moved, finally, shutting her book with a gentle rasp of paper and sitting up. Weiss breathed a sigh of relief, confident that Blake could shut her blonde partner down faster.
"Whatever he did, it sure made him happy. He was glowing when I gave his scroll back" The faunus said dryly, words as light and airey as if this weren't the highest betrayal Weiss had ever experienced at Beacon. She floundered, mouth agape, trying to determine how someone could mimic Blake so well, or take over her body, or something.
Yang looked just as shocked, for a brief moment, before throwing her head back and cackling in delight.
"What's this what's this! Tell me more, Blake!" She begged, a golden waterfall of hair blocking Weiss' appalled expression as she leaned down to stare at her smirking partner.
Blake paused, a momentarily contemplative look crossing her face as she fingered the stub of bookmark extending from the pages, before shrugging and answering.
"He was flushed, but looked about as giddy as a newlywed on his honeymoon-"
Yang shrieked, convulsing with laughter as she frantically rolled around. "Weiss, girl, what did you do-"
"Shut up!" Weiss finally screeched, flinging one of her many pillows at the nearly red-in-the-face blonde. It was caught deftly, however, and Yang held it like a shield as she blurted a response between hysteric giggles.
"W-what, did you flash him too?"
Blake scowled behind a curtain of blonde hair, but Weiss didn't need to see it to know whose side would be taken the next time this happened.
"No!" She snapped, "I didn't even take my shirt off!"
At once, she realized her mistake.
Yang sobered instantly, looking perplexed as she finally moved far enough to reveal Blake, wearing a similarly interested expression. For a moment, the heiress floundered, working her jaw before giving up and biting out, "I had him give me a footrub."
There was silence only for a brief few moments before Blake rolled her eyes and Yang, voice laden with exasperation, sighed "Only you, Weiss."
She bristled, before scowling at both of them and muttering. "Neither of you wear heels every day-"
"Yeah, because we watch you in heels 'every day' and want nothing to do with it." Blake cut in bluntly, restraining a smirk as Weiss snarled at the interruption.
Sensing an uncomfortable possibility for tension to blow out of proportion, Yang hastily cut in. "Hey now, no need to get too catty!" She snarked, grinning as Blake's face morphed into a scowl within a heartbeat and Weiss turned a practiced glare on her, but better they focus anger on her than each other.
Not, of course, that they needed to know that some of her teasing was to keep them from leaping at each other's throats. That'd ruin her image.
"Well, Weiss?" She continued, watching pale eyebrows furrow in response. "Having received a massage from Jauney-boy, how was he?"
Weiss grumbled again, but her face didn't quite veer into it's usual exaggeration of "I loathe talking about this manchild at all." It came close, sure, but the poison-that-really-had-little-bite was a little less present.
She sat for a moment, playing with the corner of her blanket for the duration of that moment, before finally sighing and admitting defeat on this discussion. She couldn't even stretch the truth and say she'd had far better massages, because while she indeed had received incredible massages to her back by trained professionals, she'd never had a foot massage to speak of. And, even if she tried to estimate his skill, ignoring the numerous factors influencing such an estimate, she concluded that he probably would rank pretty high with respect to how enjoyable his massage would be.
So, with another sigh, and no small amount of stubborn foot-dragging, she finally relented. "He...was skilled. I have to assume he has experience, and he knew how to use it." She said, finding the words to not taste as bad as she might have expected, or even hoped, in a strange way. It would be easier to just dislike him - his overall mediocrity meant that he dragged his team, and hers, when they cooperated. At the same time, however, this was due to him not realizing his potential and forced her to acknowledge that said potential did exist. If it hadn't, he wouldn't have improved at all since arriving.
Instead of being able to just write him off as a useless, womanizing idiot, she would be lying to herself if she denied that he could learn and improve. Instead of expecting uselessness from him, she'd be lying to herself if she said he wasn't surprisingly skilled when it came to some tasks.
No, she couldn't think of him as useless. Of course, that didn't obligate her to like him, and she certainly didn't. But she could tolerate him, and so long as he continued to improve she would be fair and recognize that.
"Soooo…?" Yang trailed off, looking expectant.
"So what?" Weiss grumbled, expecting another jab.
"Do you need anymore proof that nothing...bad, happened in this room?" Blake finished for her partner, finally levelling Weiss with an even stare.
Weiss flushed, remembering that 'prove it.' had been her reason for receiving a massage from Jaune in the first place, even though (especially with the power of hindsight) she'd come to the conclusion that such things had never occured in the first place.
Once more, with a small amount of grumbling, she conceded. With a stiff nod, she said; "No, I don't need anymore proof. I...don't think anything happened here." She concluded, glowering at the both of them, daring them to make a joke.
Of course, when Ruby exited the shower ten minutes later, it was to the sight of Weiss furiously attempting to smother Yang to death with a pillow.
All was normal and good in life.
For Jaune, the day was almost perfect. He woke up early and rested, knew that today was not going to be an intense day as he had no no formal practicals scheduled, and that he'd have plenty of time to be working with Pyrrha one-on-one for free training periods. He'd spent the previous day massaging his crush, talking with her, and oh right hearing her say she didn't hate him.
The only thing- the only thing making this day imperfect was the gnarly pain in his hands. That was troublesome, and especially troublesome because, while he expected Pyrrha's backrub to be significantly less stressful than Weiss' had been, it would still suck for…
He paused, one pant leg still unfilled, frowning.
Was that true? Did he really expect it to be less stressful?
He slowed, idly pulling his pants up the rest of the way, curious why his mind had automatically assumed that to be true (and boy had it been a task for Pyrrha to help him learn to recognize when assumptions like that happened.)
The majority of the stress from Weiss' massage, he concluded after having slept on it, was that A. she was his crush and B. he was certain that she'd want even less to do with him when they were done. That he'd offend her, or say something stupid, or otherwise get under her skin enough that she wiped her hands of dealing with him ever again.
He supposed, thinking about it, that none of those concerns were present because Pyrrha took so much time out of her day to reassure him that she didn't think he was useless and dearly enjoyed working with him.
He smiled, feeling as warm as he always did when remembering how wonderful his partner was. He imagined the evening, the two of them laughing and joking as he worked his fingers into her soft, tan back, which curved around to-
Jaune was never so glad for his five-minute alarm to ring as he and Pyrrha rushed out of the door.
Pyrrha didn't really know what to think, and that frightened her a good deal. Jaune had been an anxious, nervous wreck the previous day, barely able to sit still in class and visibly freaking out several separate times. He had told her why, and it made complete sense that he'd react the way he did.
Perhaps she had misjudged Weiss. A far more upsetting possibility was that she'd misjudged Jaune, as she wanted to always be able to trust her instincts when it came to her hunting partner.
Weiss was difficult to read sometimes. Sometimes, it seemed there was nothing but layer upon layer of fire and thorns. Other times, it seemed more like a disguise. Celebrities like them often wore facades and masks, as Pyrrha knew all too well, and it was entirely conceivable and, more than that, arguable that Weiss wore her anger as a shield to deal with her environment, and was finding enough solace to finally begin to drop it at Beacon.
The third option, stemming from the previous two, was that she had misjudged how the massage between Weiss and Jaune would go and in what state it would leave either of them.
As she watched Weiss dance across the room against a captured Grimm, her footwork even more impeccable than usual to Port's obvious delight, Pyrrha breathed a sigh and pondered what could make the heiress so light on her feet so as to have improved this much.
(Had she known the true nature of Weiss' massage, it would have made complete sense. She didn't, of course, and even one as confident as her could diminish due to misunderstandings as minor as such.)
It...wasn't disheartening, to see Jaune so perky, so active, so alive in class. He answered Port's questions with brimming excitement, face not even falling for a heartbeat when he got a question wrong, and Port began to match his excitement thusly. No, Pyrrha could never be disheartened or disturbed by her leader in such an obviously good mood.
What threw her off-base in such a way was why he was feeling good. She could think of no event except the massage, as surely Jaune would have told her if something else happened.
...Would he? Hadn't he, after all, forgotten to tell her the first time he gave Yang a massage until the day after, when she prodded his obvious discomfort and distractions? Had he not forgotten to tell her that he was massaging his crush, until she prodded him about it the night before?
What else might he be forgetting to tell her?
She stiffened, gripping her pencil firmly, writing down a short sequence of notes.
No. It didn't do her any favors to think of her partner in that manner. If she doubted him, she doubted her leader. If she doubted her leader, the team dynamic could fall apart when it was most important to stay together.
...But she could doubt herself. Or, at least, doubt her understanding of the dynamic between her and her leader. She liked to believe that Jaune was aware of the tension between them. But how much of that tension might be of her own imagination.
Her grip on the pencil slackened, and she resisted the still-breaking habit to bite her lip.
What if he didn't look at her the way she looked at him? Not in the literal sense- but didn't he always look away, and berate himself, even if it was internal and only visible in the aggravated look on his face?
Pyrrha...wanted more. She liked her partner. She liked him rather a lot, and she could admit that to herself in the confidence and privacy of her mind.
But what if he didn't share that sentiment? What if she said something, only to find out that a spark had lit between Weiss and him, last night? To upset the dynamic like that, to risk it falling apart in such a potentially catastrophic way…
Was it worth surety? Could she risk that and keep a clear conscious?
She didn't know, and that frightened her even more than when she hadn't known what to think.
Jaune's day had only seemed to get better.
Not only had he slept well, not only had he felt refreshed and recharged, not only had he had an extremely cathartic discussion, but on top of all of that he got to see genuine fruits of his labors. With Yang and Blake, though he hadn't looked as hard as he could have due to his nerves, the results of his massage tended to center around more comfort and relaxation, occasionally visible in their posture. They could be noticed, had he the capacity of thought to look, but it required looking.
A combat demonstration was a bit obvious when it came to providing a context by which he could measure his success, but he wouldn't look that particular horse in the mouth.
She was so...elegant.
He sighed, a hand on his chin, completely oblivious to Pyrrha's mounting tension and Blake's mirthful glances every now and then.
Her movements flowed in ways he'd only had the privilege of seeing a scant few times, she leaned effortlessly to dodge an attack that seemed to miss by a mile, and the flare of her semblances reply was merely the cue for applause to start as the grimm was eviscerated by her blade. Not a single scratch marred her form, and Port was so overjoyed with the display that he, in his usual exuberance, offered Weiss extra credit for a stylish and perfect dispatch.
And she said no.
A pang hit his heart, but strangely enough it was not the usual despair of realizing she was way out of her league. Instead, it was the warmth of realizing that, while all of today's show was reliant on Weiss' incredible talent, he played a part in it.
At least, he liked to think he did, but it seemed a pretty likely conclusion. It may have been a small part, if she happened to wake up early and well-rested, have a relaxed schedule, and known in advance that she'd been picked for a practical, but it seemed quite unlikely that a massage of some sort would have had no impact on the outcome.
Still, he couldn't help but clap almost as exuberantly as Port. Not to say, of course, that she recieved light applause otherwise - many students enjoyed watching Weiss demonstrate her skill, but he might have clapped a bit harder than normal.
He didn't see Pyrrha's gaze tightening, didn't see Blake's eyes narrow a fraction.
What he did see was Weiss turn, make eye contact with him, and scoff.
But in between one moment and the next, as she was already reacting with the dismissive expression, for an instant so brief he almost believed he imagined it, her eyes seemed to soften. She did not smile at him, like Blake had right after her massage, or wink like Yang had the day after hers. But it was enough.
He was content.
At lunch, Pyrrha was more conflicted than she'd felt in quite a long time. Her leader was always quick to applaud Weiss after physical tests, and never seemed to be to upset at her dismissive attitudes, but today had been quite exceptional. Not only her performance, but his response. She'd have almost expected him to leap out of his seat like Port did, to give her a standing ovation.
She forked another bite of squash, unable to properly appreciate the taste as she watched Jaune check something on his scroll.
What if…
Did he…?
...Did he not?
She chilled, biting down hard on her lunch. She didn't want to think like that- didn't want to doubt him, but it wasn't as if avoiding the thoughts was easy. She desperately wanted confirmation, wanted some kind of catharsis to this question.
Did he...like her?
It seemed so childish to say, or think, like that, but it was the only way Pyrrha could phrase it where it made sense.
She didn't love him, not romantically. She'd fight and risk her life for him, any day of the week, but...
There was something not-present. Something missing. A piece, or many pieces, of the puzzle between connecting her current feelings to love.
But she liked him. They didn't hug often, as Jaune could barely sustain full or even half-body contact with another girl before having a meltdown, but after they returned from a successful training course or when he finally managed to master a new attack, sometimes…
It would be brief, but it would be warm, and while Pyrrha didn't think she was necessarily touch-starved, she hadn't realized until now just how nice it would feel to hug someone her age. Someone she liked.
She'd always imagined, expected on some level that he returned the feelings. That while his crush on Weiss was obvious as the sun on a cloudless, summer noon, he could feel the tension between them. Understand that there was something there, something waiting to connect, waiting to happen.
But…
Did he?
Or had she merely desired it so much that she saw his actions as something more, something different than the meaning he meant to convey? Was she merely superimposing her own desires over his words in a desperate hope that he might also realize how warm their hugs were?
...Should she just-
"-rrha? Pyrrha!" Jaune exclaimed, risking raising his tone slightly as he jabbed her forehead a little less gentle than usual.
It had never taken him that much poking to prod her out of a distracting thought, and sometimes he'd let her mind run it's course and let her return focus to the conversation organically. The habit itself was sometimes delightful to see, as she'd drift off just enough to relax her features, and look so peaceful he had to wonder if she was normally under a lot of stress. It made him somewhat regret not bringing up the backrubs he'd given his sisters before.
However, seeing her eyebrows come together and her jaw clench wasn't peaceful at all, and though he got a few weird looks from neighboring tables, he was just glad to see her return to awareness.
"...S-sorry." She said, voice subdued, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. He was almost distracted by the swishing of scarlet locks but managed to force himself to focus on the discussion at hand.
"Is...is everything alright?" He asked tentatively. It was super rare for Pyrrha to be off-base in general, for her to be thrown off this much was a little worrying.
For an instant, a single moment, in-between heartbeats, he saw her change her mind. He saw it, in the way her brow came together closer and then relaxed, in how her eyes flicked, her posture straightening as she smiled apologetically.
"I...think so, now. I have a few things to check with Ms. Goodwitch about, and I guess they might be a little more worrying than I thought."
It was a deflection.
He just wondered why.
...Still, it wouldn't benefit things now. Any conversation concerning a subject that threw her off-balance enough to make her react like that wasn't something to be discussed at lunch, in public. He'd bring it up later, and see if she still wanted a Massage. It would probably do her some good, if the majority of team RWBY's reactions were to be believed.
He nodded, not believing her, wondering if she in turn perceived that, and they finished lunch with jokes and funny videos on his scroll and silence in all the ways that mattered.
Pyrrha did end up visiting with Ms. Goodwitch, if only to have not lied to her partner.
Not completely, anyways.
...She couldn't fool herself, much that she wished she could.
Lies by omission were still a deception, even if you could twist your mind into believing it was not a lie. She knew the correct answer to his question and spoke in a way such that he would be drawn to a different conclusion, even if he hadn't seemed to believe her at first.
She nodded, barely catching a word of what Ms. Goodwitch was saying, before the blonde teacher stopped talking. Pyrrha refocused on the present situation, catching a level gaze being turned to her, before Goodwitch sighed and pushed up her glasses.
"You've been distracted all day, Ms. Nikos." She said plainly, but not unkindly. It wasn't a reprimand, but Pyrrha still winced. As she made to speak, to apologize, Goodwitch raised a hand to forestall the action.
"I won't pry. But we aren't going to accomplish meaningful work if you drift off like this. Get some rest and work on whatever has been consuming your attention. We'll meet again tomorrow."
The warrior in Pyrrha winced, but all the rest of her was grateful to the stern, but insightful and respectful teacher. She nodded once, wordlessly taking her leave.
After a moment of pause at an intersection of the halls, she quashed an immature temptation, squared her shoulders, and left for the reserved training ground she and Jaune had selected for their independent work today.
She could manage a few hours of work with him, and hopefully make her mind up by then if she still wanted to sit in a room with him, alone, for a long time, feeling his hands-
She shook her head, clearing the intrusive thoughts before they could distract her. It wasn't often, but there was a reason this time, so it didn't annoy her as much.
Despite his resolution to let the situation lie until after dinner, Jaune knew plainly that their workflow was being impeded by whatever had happened. Partnering with Pyrrha had keyed him in to many of her quirks and traits. He liked to watch people fight, as Blake had found out to his minor embarrassment, and while he wasn't necessarily always keeping track of everything she was doing and comparing it to her actions in the past, he had developed a bit of a sense for his partners state of mind.
It...wasn't terrible? She was off-balance, definitely. Her skill still eclipsed his to a laughable degree, so she wasn't struggling against him, but there were a few moments where he'd slipped into a trapped opening that would have meant nothing but a brutal punishment in response, only to see her dodge away.
As of right now they were both taking a five minute break, drinking water and toweling off sweat.
It bothered him to an almost surprising degree. He didn't like to see Pyrrha like this, and more than once that feeling's intensity eclipsed his worry about what was causing this slump. Pyrrha was his rock, an unshakeable pillar of support in his life ever since he'd been here. She'd never doubted him, never believed that he would fail, and had been there for every single triumph he'd had.
Hell, she was directly responsible for most of those triumphs. He wanted to ask, to beg her to please just tell him what was wrong. The rational part of him knew not to approach the situation, not yet at least. At most, he should wait for her to discuss whatever was on her mind. At least, he should wait for privacy.
He wasn't sure which would come first. He suspected the latter, and the same part of him that hurt when he saw something wrong in his partner's life ached because of that suspicion - because some part of him didn't trust her to be open with him.
Her sword came in as an abrupt signal to the end of their break, ending his thought train's journey down the tracks as he barely managed a parry, before swearing internally as he realized that he also had a meeting with Ms. Goodwitch today and could not accompany Pyrrha to her next destination.
That was the last thought before his world was once more consumed in a torrent of sparks, and the sparring began anew.
Pyrrha wasn't one to swear, or even to have especially verbal expressions of anger, but the sheer scope of how distracted she'd been during her training today nearly brought her to both. She wanted to bemoan the irrationality of all of it, remembering how many fights she had been in where such distractions would have cost her admiration, pride, and championship victories.
She wanted to, but she couldn't. This was different. She hadn't had anyone back then to inspire such fear in her heart. No one was close enough, near and dear enough, free enough to spend their time with her. She barely had time that wasn't consumed by training, PR and trying to maintain some amount of a family life. At Beacon, she filled her free time with training, but for the first time she was training someone else.
She hoped he hadn't caught on to how off-base she was, but it pained her to realize that she truly didn't know if he had. She hadn't been focused enough on him, had barely been aware enough to keep the sparring level and even then, she could barely manage it.
Jaune was a constant in her life, perhaps the first one since her parents and her role as a warrior. He was improving, slowly at first but now the steps were greater, and though he lacked confidence and was still shaky in legitimate - or at least realistic - conflicts, he was getting better. No one knew that better than her.
He hadn't known her beforehand, and while she knew for a fact that he'd looked her up after partnering with her, he didn't have any kind of stigma or associations with that information. It was just more things to talk about in conversation, more ways to make jokes at dinner. Her family had encouraged her ceaselessly to aim higher, and she had with delight at the challenge, but only when she reached the top of what she could achieve at the time did she realize how lonely a life it was.
He still praised her, still adored her feats of skill like so many others, but he did so at her side, not in a sea of people cheering at her most recent victory.
She liked him. It was easy to think now, there was no need to badger around it. No confusion as to what it was. Surely as the sun rose in the east.
Only now, instead of the warmth those thoughts brought, there was little but the fear of his response, of his answer.
'Y-you do? I, a-ah, gosh I...I don't really know what to say!'
…
'S-sorry, Pyrrha. Weiss and I, we…'
Her heart clenched, her gut curdled. She hated this, hated this fear, hated it more than anything else. Surely ignorance would be better, and she knew it was running away to think it but surely it would be better to put this off, to wait please wait she didn't want to know-
The door opened, and she threw her scroll under a pillow as fast as she could move, heart in her throat and beating harder than ever before.
"Pyrrha?" He asked, his voice laced with unhidden concern, and why was he back so soon she was certain his meeting was scheduled for much longer.
Still, her heart yearned to know the truth, even as her gut begged her to run away from it, and-
"What's wrong, Pyrrha?"
Both voices went silent with the realization that of course he'd noticed. She knew his little tics, the meaning of his micro-expressions, his habits, of course he'd see hers.
"I…" She trailed off, realizing in a moment of panic that she had no idea what to say, much less if to deflect or face reality.
"I, I think a massage might do you some good, Pyrrha. You've been...really tense, all day."
The desperate urge to run was gone, but so was the burning need to know. Wordlessly, she nodded, feeling the warmth rush through her chest as Jaune didn't ask, didn't push, but merely offered something he felt would help her.
His face brightened as he shut the door behind him.
Just a massage, just his hands on her back, just a way to work tension out of her muscles. Just a way to relax. No questions, if he wouldn't ask.
She could do that.
Across the hall, Weiss was entrenched in the settings menu of an app on her Scroll. Ruby was seated atop her monstrosity, tongue between her teeth as she dutifully altered her essay according to Weiss's corrections. They were curt, and the heiress had even taken to scratching out a few sentences with her beloved red pen, but there were no notes or comments of disapproval, so Ruby cheered with the knowledge that she was improving.
Across the room, Blake was buried far deeper than usual in what seemed to be a new novel in a series she favored. She hadn't responded to Ruby's greeting upon her return to the room beyond a grunt and a wiggle of her foot, eyes flicking across the page intently. Yang was playing a game on her own scroll, occasionally raising a hand in silent cheer or frowning and muttering as she tapped out of an ad or other attempt to funnel cash into the developers' pockets.
Ruby was glad. It had been a while since her team had all been together for anything other than training, and the atmosphere was warm enough that she could just sit and smile and be with her friends.
Jaune was...satisfied. Pyrrha had turned around already and tugged her shirt off, and the intrusive, gross thoughts that had plagued him before-
...Was it right to think of it that way? Pyrrha and Weiss had both-
He shook his head, wanting to focus on Pyrrha right now and definitely not running away from thinking about the topic.
She was baring her back to him, and he wasn't being distracted. His only focus was on his concern for her, and his desire to make her smile, and to help her forget, even for a moment, what was plaguing her.
He smiled, a faint, quirked thing, but a smile nonetheless.
He could do this.
She could definitely do this.
She groaned again, leaning back into his hands with a deep, rich sigh of satisfaction. While she hadn't visited upscale massage parlors like Weiss had, some locations offered free massage work after matches to help her destress. Those had certainly been pleasant, but this was very different than those. He wasn't actively bringing his aura forth, but just the motions of his hands and the sounds left her unable to forget just who was working tension out of her back so delightful. The way his breath hitched, the way his hands worked across her skin, before his palm gently found purchase and pushed-
She let out another deeply satisfied groan, confident that she probably wasn't making sounds anything like Yang had.
...It was getting kinda close, though.
Almost as if he had read her mind (and what a scary yet intriguing thought that was…) he mumbled something that she didn't catch, save for the tell-tale name she had just been thinking about.
"P-Pardon?" She gasped, his thumb having found a particularly tight knot in her back just as she'd opened her mouth.
"Y-you and, um, Yang. You, uh, I dunno, it feels similar? The tension in your upper back, I mean."
She restrained a giggle, not having the presence of mind to note that it was harder than usual to keep such a reaction at bay. This boy.
"Yang and, I-iiiii..." She trailed off, biting her lip and leaning harder into his hands, mumbling the words out in a rush, "We'rebothabittopheavy."
One moment two moment red moment blue-
His hands froze, and she resisted the somewhat mean urge to burst out laughing.
Her corrections finished, Ruby turned to her textbook and pulled out the crumpled, well-doodled-on sheet of notes from class today. Weiss demanded that she review her notes every night, but had stopped helping her with this once Ruby had seen how tests had started to become easier. It was much harder to forget to do it when Weiss reminded her, but the team all kept their grades open with each other, so Ruby didn't need Weiss' insistence to motivate her that much anymore. She giggled, quickly snapping a picture of a short comic she'd drawn while Port was telling stories - the one time Weiss didn't elbow her in the ribs for doodling. Weiss had even drawn on her notes today, though it was a little angular, but she'd circled the little glyph in happy faces and hearts and cheered quietly when Weiss cracked a tiny, tiny smile.
She hmm'd, trying to figure out who to send the picture to, before shrugging and figuring she'd do that later, after she'd gone over today's lesson again.
He definitely could not do this.
He couldn't actually feel his brain stumbling over it's own two feet and sliding through about seven miles of gravel, but he could imagine it felt something like this.
She-
Her and Yang-
His hands twitched against her bare skin as his brain abruptly remembered exactly what that meant. Her hair was draped forward off either shoulder, exposing the entirety of her toned back, and her skin was so soft that he could barely keep himself held together. Muscles, trained from a lifestyle of intensive combat, relaxed under his touch as she shuddered and a bead of sweat slipped down her shoulder blades and oh my god Pyrrha was topless in front of him and that meant-
That meant-
He wheezed slightly, abruptly aware of what exactly was on the opposite side of her back, memory turning back inexorably towards Blakes-
He stilled, reached to the side, and pinched his arm hard.
Not right now. He wouldn't ponder the ethics of it or whether it was right and he certainly wouldn't be distracted when the point of all of this was to help his partner.
...At least, he wouldn't be distracted by thoughts of Blake.
His hands finally returned pressure to her back, his breathing shaky as he, after a false start or two as he marveled at the smoothness of her skin that was suddenly far more noticeable, returned to massaging Pyrrha.
She began making those sounds again, and he bit his lip as she leaned into his hands, the warmth of her back all his aching fingers could feel. He frowned slightly, not sparing a single thought to it as aura moved down his arms, warming his fingers and causing them to glow slightly as he returned to his task, certain his face was rapidly growing red as her groans continued to sound more and more of rapturous satisfaction.
He may have been successful in keeping Blake from his mind, but it was impossible to ignore her. Every shudder, every quake, every moan that came from deep in her throat was like a shock to his system - stronger than any caffeine rush he'd ever felt. He was hyper aware of her, the muscles he was massaging, the feeling of skin against his hands and fingers, the warmth of her body, the-
He gulped, his own breathing slightly unsteady as she let out another pleasured sigh, her back arching against his hands as he shut his eyes, desperately locking away the horrible temptation to lean just slightly to the right or left and see what he could-
The only reason he didn't slap himself was because it would interrupt the Massage, and distract Pyrrha.
It definitely wasn't because he wanted to not take his hands off her.
...What a mess, he was.
Weiss' scroll dinged, and her eye twitched as she opened the messaging app. Ruby saw her shoot Yang a poisonous glare, seeing Yang giggle shamelessly in response, before angrily typing a message of her own. Unseen by Ruby was Blake also glancing at her own scroll, rolling her eyes, and then returning to her book after sending a single emoji back.
The sentiments, thankfully, didn't last. His embarrassment, while kept in existence by her deep, heavy moans, faded somewhat, and it wasn't long before the quiet began to get somewhat awkward. His hands slowed, unable to find tension to work out, her shoulders drooping low in relaxation. Yang had made a joke, Blake had- nevermind, and Weiss had shared a heart-to-heart, or something, with him. No massage had ever just ended.
He wondered what would happen here.
As it happened, he didn't need to wait long. Pyrrha, it seemed, had similar thoughts to his own. She reached out, grasping out at her bed before tugging the sheet off, wrapping it around her shoulders before, finally, turning around to look him in the eyes. Her face, he noted somewhere in the back of his mind that wasn't struck with the sudden realization of just how pretty she was, had become quite red.
She wrestled with something for a long time. It seemed apparent that it was whatever had bothered her all day, and some part of him shrunk in fear that whatever had caused her so much distress was related to him.
Did she-
Would she-
"J-Jaune?" She started, wetting her lips and pulling the sheet tighter.
His hands shook, even though his aura was blocking the pain, but with great effort he managed a weak, "Y-yes, Pyrrha?"
"D-do you...like me?"
For the second time that day, Pyrrha realized that her words had caused Jaune to freeze up.
She wasn't fairing much better.
She had turned before she could think to stop herself, before she could remember to maintain the status quo and not hurt herself, but alone in their room as they were, she knew Jaune wouldn't let it drop if she changed her mind. He would ask, and worry, and as much as it hurt her to face the risk of a heartbreaking reality, she couldn't hurt him with her own fears. She owed her leader, and her friend, that much.
He started breathing again, his eyes wide and mouth agape, not a single hint of blush on his cheeks as he seemed to flounder for a response. He licked his lips, swallowing as his hands started to fidget, and she shut her eyes and waited for the inevitable.
He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, because-
Because-
It was like he had taken a step to the right. Or, perhaps, all of Beacon had taken a wide step to the left. Something snapped into place in a way it never had, and suddenly he could barely stand to look at his gorgeous partner's face.
His partner's face.
He knew the statistics of how many partners became romantically involved. He knew that it was common for hunter teams to work together, live together, love together and many times die together.
He'd never-
She-
He realized, as though the knowledge had always been there but covered up by thoughts of white and jokes and efforts that had long since been in vein.
He realized.
She peaked through her lashes, eyes half-lidded as she pondered his silence. He wasn't looking at her, his jaw set firmly, and there was something in his eyes she hadn't seen before. Not like this, at least. The firmness that preceded an order, the steadfast look of when he finally knew what his course was, and she prepared for a painful, heart wrenching rejection.
It did not come.
In a moment, in a heartbeat, a piece of a second so short she might have dreamed it up - in the fleeting instants where the world didn't exist, and all that mattered right now was the boy in front of her, one thing moved while reality stood still with bated breath.
His head dipped, and rose.
He couldn't look at her, he couldn't. He was aware now, more than ever, of the sheer magnitude of his blindness.
More than that, he couldn't bear to consider just how long he'd been blind. His focus had been so narrow, so dim, lasered on to Weiss that he hadn't realized how close he was truly growing to Pyrrha, how comfortable he'd become in her presence, how the rare times they'd hug he didn't feel extensively embarrassed or awkward. He'd chalked it up to them being partners, to them being just friends. But when faced with her question, when faced with the reality of the situation, with how much he thought about her, worked with her, fought with her, worried for her…
He turned, the cold, curdling feeling of shame twisting in his gut, and saw for perhaps the first time in his life just how Pyrrha looked when she was utterly, completely flabbergasted.
It wasn't out of mistrust for her partner that she spoke. It wasn't because she doubted him, or believed he would lie to her to preserve her happiness. It was reflex and hope, a small, desperate part of her heart begging for it to be true, to hear it and not just see it in his movements.
"Y-you do?"
He winced, and her heart froze, but then he turned to look her in the eyes and fixed her with a smile that she knew from experience was one of shame, and inward-pointed anger.
"I- Y-yeah…" He paused, firming his expression, squaring his shoulders, and then the pose fell apart as he sagged, unable to hold the bravado. "I...I like you, Pyrrha."
He laughed, a soft, fluttery little thing.
"I didn't realize it until now, but...I like you. I-I...I like you a lot, Pyrrha."
She felt like her heart had stopped, like every single part of her had frozen over and that all it would take is the slightest touch to shatter.
He...he liked her? He returned her feelings?
Her lip trembled, only for a moment, before she swallowed and tried to speak. Failing that, she closed her mouth again, and felt the despair, dread, and unknowing certainty break away as he didn't suddenly laugh, or look away, or declare this to be a joke.
Not that she'd expect him to, but it the parts of her that doubted this reality needed more and more impossible options to explain this, and in failing those, they began to crumble themselves.
In her heart, joy began to soar.
His heart felt like it was filled with lead, as reality started to bleed back in to his awareness. He liked Weiss, and it wasn't just a teenage crush on a pretty girl - Weiss appealed to him. Her strength, her confidence, her surety and poise…
All of those traits, he found in Pyrrha.
He had told Weiss - he had told her that it brought him joy to see her smile. It was from his affections that he spoke those words! How had he failed to see the reflection of that, the exact same affection he held for Pyrrha?
Making her smile affirmed him. It brought joy and warmth and life to him. He devoted mealtimes and doodles and comments on her notes page to getting her to laugh that genuine laugh.
...He liked Pyrrha.
And he liked Weiss.
...Was that wrong?
He liked Weiss, but he didn't necessarily have high hopes for her returning his affections. At best, yesterday had proved nothing except the fact that she didn't hate him.
But Pyrrha...the implication of her question was obvious. Did he like her? Because…
Because she liked him.
There was dread, and ice, and fear surrounding his heart, but that thought alone punched a deep, hefty crack in the shell.
Pyrrha liked him. She didn't tolerate him, or just laugh at him like a clown, or like him in the manner that she appreciated her friends. She liked him, in ways deeper than that.
The warmth bled through, and though he knew he'd struggle with the thoughts of his affections towards two seperate girls, in this moment it became awful hard to pay attention to that.
"Partners…" He'd started speaking before he realized his lips were moving, and her eyes fixed on him immediately. He didn't know where the words were coming from, or why they were coming at all, but in this moment, as surely as he knew the weight of his blade, he knew that he'd never be able to stop them.
"Partners often...get together, don't they? R-romantically, I mean."
He turned red as he spoke, and by the heat in her cheeks she knew she was flushing too.
Then she nodded, and his face got redder.
"Y-you" she began, "You have...supported me, in ways no one else has, Jaune." and he had. In ways she'd never needed, but also never knew she wanted. People had encouraged her and praised her, but no one had taken the time to sit with her and make her laugh without having intentions that were either unsavory or simply not fantasies she wished to indulge. No one had casually leaned over to doodle a little mustached man blustering in the corner of her notes, or been a student of hers and praised her, not because of her own skill, but because of the effect she was having on their own growth.
She reached out, her fingers grazing his hand before they closed around and, after a moment, he responded with cheeks burning hot, but fingers warm and gentle.
"You...mean a lot to me, Jaune." She whispered, for the world was too quiet now, and anything else seemed as though it would break her eardrums.
His eyes were wet, and for an instant she was struck by a curiosity of whether or not this was the first time he'd ever been told that, this frankly and this meaningfully.
He squeezed, and it was her turn to blush hotter.
"You...you are my rock, Pyrrha. My foundation, the sole reason for all of my successes." he said, finding it easy to speak the words, his voice calm and unwavering. Sometimes the truth scared him, but this truth was important, and she had to know.
"Jaune-"
"No, Pyrrha." He cut her off gently, grasping her hand with both of his, leaning in closer. It mattered to him more than most anything had, recently, that in this moment, his partner understood the sheer magnitude of what she had done.
"Even when we weren't training, even in matters you didn't tutor me on, Pyrrha. You...You give me confidence. I'm not...I'm not just learning how to be confident, or pretend, it's you who gives me that. Pyrrha…"
He trailed off, and she repeated his earlier gesture, clasping her other hand against his. Her eyes were wet. He knew his were too.
"You mean so much to me, and I didn't realize the, the depth of those feelings until now, but had you not lifted me up even after learning of my lie…"
He looked her in the eyes, keeping tears back with force of will as he truly faced everything she had done for him.
"Pyrrha, I couldn't have done it without you. Any of it."
She stared at him, eyes shining and hands tight.
There was silence.
And then-
In a quiet, unobserved room, two teenagers who had spent the majority of their lives alone began to move.
Perhaps they had not been alone physically. Perhaps they had a plethora of siblings to raise them, or a family who supported them. Perhaps they had friends at school or peers in the arena, but one could become friendless and peerless so quickly, given time and circumstances.
Red hair, unbound, shifted as it's owner leaned in.
Blond hair followed suit.
For a moment, as silence held its breath, they paused. Looked into each others eyes. Stared and saw and understand and liked and
And
Apologized.
Blond hair shifted as it's owner leaned back, his face as red as his partner's scarlet locks.
Red hair settled back into place with a twist of a hand as it's owner glanced to the side, unable to look at her partner.
Life marched forward anew.
Neither of them spoke. They didn't know what to say, didn't know what to think, beyond the simple, reassuring fact that it had been mutual. They had both pulled away, both questioned it, both decided-
"W-we should, should wait." He finally managed to choke out, his stutter returning in full force.
"Y-yes...I, I agree. Perhaps when...when we are, ah, calmer." She managed to respond, her own voice quaking far more than normal.
They both knew that they had proffered sensible suggestions. Excitement from the contact they'd had, both physically, as he had massaged her back and felt her skin, and as she had touched his heart and he hers. As they had told the truth to each other and been astounded by it, and filled with a charge of emotions.
Such decisions were better made with level heads, with an understanding of the reality. To wake up the next day and regret would be disastrous, and such an action should be discussed.
...Both of them, in turn, knew that these things, while true, merely distorted the deeper truth. Cop-outs and evasions, because two people who had been alone for so long, even after admitting how much they adored each other and valued each other, would be afraid to take that next step. Afraid of the commitment, the responsibilities, the fears and potentials and what-ifs.
And so, in a silence that was comfortable only in it's lie, they readied for bed.
Weiss had staunchly ignored her scroll for some time now. However, the instant Ruby realized she'd forgotten her own scroll in her locker, she'd bolted to go find it. Unfortunately, Yang was much harder to ignore when she was speaking instead of typing.
"Weeeiiissss" the blonde called, leaning over her bed rather precariously only to snicker as Weiss visibly rolled her eyes and clenched her pen tighter, going over her own notes (for how hypocritical would it be to demand as much from Ruby and not return it in kind?)
"I'm working, Yang." the heiress bit out through clenched teeth, restraining a snarl as Yang laughed again.
"Working working wooorrkiiingg" Yang drawled, "You've been working for an awful long time now, Snow Queen - isn't it time for a break?"
Weiss clenched her teeth harder, refusing to be caught up in this discussion as she knew exactly where it would go. "I will take a break when I feel it is time for one, Yang." She snapped in response, knowing all the while that the battle would be hopeless.
"And how again did you react when Ruby said exactly that to you last week, Weiss?" Blake asked dryly, and Weiss just about snapped her pen.
She grit her teeth.
Contemplated this potential course of action.
…
And threw caution to the wind in favor of a what-if that was far too appetizing to pass up.
She turned smoothly, fixing Blake with an even stare and arching a single eyebrow in the 'Schnee Look' that she'd learned within a few days of public galas. Yang was snickering as she tapped on her scroll, still leaned at a ridiculous angle, obviously ready for the verbal showdown.
Fine.
"I imagine," She began cooly, indifferently, as if she were discussing stock prices or the weather or a minor event that had occured when shopping last week, "That I looked about as shocked as Jaune did when you forgot you were half undressed, Blake."
Weiss paused, commiting the look of utter, complete shock on Blake's face to her memory, resolving to never forget it until the day she died. When she was forced to contact her father, or interact with Whitley, or anything as unsavory as unwanted familial conversations, she would remember the undisguised astonishment as she, for the first time, fired back the kind of barb only Yang would have made.
The crash of Yang falling from her bed, having whirled around to stare gobsmacked at Weiss, was only icing on the cake.
That, it seemed, was the trigger for the conversation to end, as Yang it seemed was too shocked to even go into her usual bout of hysterics. Weiss was almost worried, but with an imperious sniff she turned back around and continued to review her notes, resolving to think about it tomorrow.
Jaune winced, rubbing his aching hands under the cold water. Deactivating his aura had been necessary, as he certainly couldn't keep the flow up all night, but it didn't change how confusing it was for his hands to still burn when the aura had fled. Shouldn't it be healing his aches?
He wanted to ask Pyrrha about it, but he wanted far less to address his hand pains after the conversation they had just had, and the massage he'd just given her. He didn't imagine Pyrrha would feel particularly good if he just finished massaging her and then began to gripe and groan about how badly his hands hurt, even if they had-
He paused, pinching his arm for the second time - a fruitless gesture, given how much his hands hurt at the moment.
Yup. Still reality. Still the same world where he'd just-
He'd just-
He tried not to scream as it once more sunk in that he'd confessed to liking Pyrrha, after she'd confessed to liking him. Not only that, but the things she had said…
He supported her, he helped her, he brought warmth to her in ways she'd never had...It was exactly what he thought of her, and this entire time…
He'd been that for her?
The idea that a girl, especially one as strong and talented and pretty as Pyrrha, would hold even the slightest affections for him, would find that much value in his company, so conflicted with his outlook on life that the only reason he didn't doubt her was because he trusted her too much to doubt the validity of her words.
...It still didn't make it any less surreal.
And then there was that almost kiss…
He shook his head, firmly shelving those thoughts (or attempting to), for tomorrow. He needed sleep, badly, but he didn't expect it to come that easily.
He was right, but for the wrong reasons.
Unlike after Yang, and Blake, he wasn't up for ages remembering how it felt to have his hands on their bodies, or imagining what they looked like from the front side. Such gross thoughts weren't present tonight. Instead, his mind was consumed in the growing, manageable but very noticeable ache in his hands. It did not fade, not until he'd tossed and turned and bit his lip only a few times, before he finally managed to drift away into an uncomfortable, unrestful sleep.
Pyrrha shifted in bed, across the room from her partner.
She didn't doubt him. Not then, not now. But the reality that she had actually said it, said what was on her heart, and he had responded in kind...
He returned her affections. He called her his foundation - his rock. It was by her that he was supported, by her he stood.
He called her exactly what she felt her was, to her. He supported her, lifted her up, helped her when she needed it and asked her when she didn't want to show it.
She pulled the covers tighter, closer to her chest, touching her lips forlornly. It may have been true, what they'd said, but it didn't make her regret any less.
...Sleep didn't come easy for her, that night. When it did, her dreams were plagued by hazy visions of yellow hair and pink lips, and a burning desire for something more.
"...Guys? What happened?"
"W-weiss, she made a joke, Ruby."
"...Weiss always makes jokes though, Yang."
"No, she made a joke like me."
"...What does that mean?"
"Shut up and get in bed, Dunce. We have training tomorrow."
"Right!"
Well.
Howdy.
It's me, ya boy.
Here a whole 350~ days early, somehow.
Hopefully this is the start of something beautiful.
As always, beta'd by my dear darling and surrogate big-sister Akardos, whoms't is my main bitch'th and I love her forever.
Also a sincere thanks to SpookyNoodle, Mike the Remnant Paladin, and MRK_50 for their reading over this chapter before it went live.
As always, leave a review with suggestions, notes of typo's or clunky sentences, or general positive thoughts. Visit my tumblr at Stromael-Writes and send me an ask or just ask how my day is going!
To address the elephant in the room - I do not know if i'll be on a bi-weekly schedule of updates now. I'm trying to write a minimum of 500 words a day, and I need about 733 a day to hit a mark of 10,000 word chapters every two weeks. I'm not necessarily aiming for that all the time, but my chapter skeletons have been getting longer and longer.
Thanks for reading, and as always-
Cheers y'all,
Stromael.