Half hidden in the shadows of the alley, she stands with one knee bent, shoe supporting her against the brick at her back. Her hair is down again tonight, dark curtains obscuring her face as her eyes are trained to something on the ground. Pointed ears are fixed to the only access to her hiding spot. Her arms haphazardly wrap around her middle and Yang can just make out the movement as a hand plays, almost nervously, with the fabric at the hem of her cream-coloured top.

Noise from the crowded bar echoing down the street forces an anxious glance over her shoulder before stepping into the mouth of darkness. Blake has no such qualms about their meeting place. Completely comfortable in this setting, she looks up calmly from the toe of her shoe at Yang's approach. Yang's steps falter briefly at the sight of Blake's wild feline eyes glowing back at her through the darkness. It unsettles her only for a second and Yang hopes Blake doesn't notice as she approaches.

"What are you doing out here?" she asks, copying Blake's position leaning against the wall, close enough to feel the heat from Blake's body reach out to caress the skin of her bare arm.

"Waiting for you actually," is her simple answer.

"A midnight alley rendezvous? I didn't take you for that type." Her elbow presses gently into Blake's side, shooting her a cheeky grin.

"It's not even close to midnight," Blake rolls her eyes, shifting off the wall to stand in the middle of the narrow space.

"I can come back in," Yang glances at her watch, "four hours, if you want to pick this up then."

Now that the light from the lamps across the street can reach her, Yang notices that Blake isn't in her usual work attire. She's wearing the same worn navy converse, freshly washed, but her black jeans are a little less practical with tears in the knees and silver studs lining the pockets. The sleeves of her shirt only cover to her elbows instead of wrists and the fabric is more form-fitting than the usual baggy tops Yang has become accustomed to.

"You look nice," she breathes when she notices Blake watching her.

Blake clears her throat as she turns away, and Yang wants to believe it's to hide a blush at her compliment.

"Thanks." She strides out of the alley, sending a look over her shoulder that asks Yang to follow.

Yang knows she would follow Blake anywhere.

It doesn't take long to realize their destination is opposite the bar. "Shouldn't you be going to work?"

"I only work when Flynt's behind the bar, and he's out sick."

Yang wants more answers, but remembers Blake's reaction the last time she questioned her and Flynt's relationship. Instead she nods, letting Blake know she's listening.

"I didn't really have a way of reaching you, so I figured since I had the night off and you were coming all this way anyway…" Her voice goes soft, unsure at the end, painfully she looks in every direction other than Yang walking at her side.

"You figured what?" Yang presses, not quite allowing herself to hope this to be the opportunity she's dreamed of.

"Well, we could either do what you suggested, go our separate ways and see who shows back up at that alley in four hours…" Her head jerks towards their meeting place behind them now, and there's a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. It forces Yang's attention back to the healing cut on her bottom lip. "Or you could take me out to dinner like you offered last night."

She pretends to weigh her options, but is barely able to hold in her excitement. Yang can feel Blake's eyes burning a trail across her temple and cheek as she waits for Yang's response. "I do like the thought of a midnight rendezvous." She turns, looking Blake up and down, this time not hiding her obvious attraction. A finger barely skims over the exposed skin of Blake's forearm as she leans to practically purr into Blake's ear, "Don't you?"

Blake's reaction is visible, shuddering as Yang's breath tickles her skin. Yang takes a step back, watching Blake struggle to pull herself together. It thrills her to see she might not be the only one fighting a battle with attraction. Blake, in some way, however small, is also affected by her.

"I-" Blake's usual even tone is hoarse and her voice cracks.

Laughing softly, Yang takes pity on her. Afterall, she's been a similar mess in front of Blake on more than one occasion. Taking Blake's smaller hand in hers, she pulls her down the street. Her skin is cold, but soft and it fits perfectly cradled in her grip. Her breath hitches as Blake's fingers curl around hers, pilfering some of her warmth.

"What do you like to eat? Are there any good restaurants around here?"

Either the movement or question brings Blake out of her stupor. "Depends what you're in the mood for," she finds her voice, steps quickening to match Yang's longer ones. "I don't eat out much honestly."

"Well, I can eat just about anything." Yang winks.

"Anything?"

"Ruby says I'm a garbage disposal," she chuckles. "Which is kind of hypocritical, because she eats more than I do most of the time."

"Right…neither of you look like you gorge yourselves."

Yang feels Blake's eyes on her again, this time sweeping down her body. The knowledge Blake is checking her out thrills her. She's still surprised Blake hasn't pulled her hand away, but isn't about to point that out.

"You remember Ruby from that night?" She asks instead.

"I do," she nods. "Though, I wouldn't take either of them as your sister, neither really looked like you."

"Oh, Ruby and I are half-sisters. Same dad but different mothers," Yang clarifies without prompting.

"You said she was the younger?"

"Did I?"

"Yeah, last night," Blake explains with a small shrug. Yang can feel the movement in her own shoulder. "You said you had a younger sister when I was deflecting."

"Right. Yeah, Ruby's a few years younger."

Blake hesitates, but eventually asks, "she's not the Schnee is she?"

The bitterness in Blake's tone shouldn't surprise her, nor should it surprise her that Weiss was so recognizable, but it does. Yang's feet stop moving and her grip tightens when Blake's hand almost pulls free. "You mean to ask if I'm a Schnee. Is that right?"

Blake has the wherewithal to look contrite, and that more than words gives Yang her answer.

"And if I were?"

Yang can feel Blake's hand spasm in her own, can see the stiffness overtake her frame, shoulder's tensing and curving forward as if forming a protective barrier. Blake withers, almost subservient, and Yang hardly remembers when she stopped doing so in her presence. The Blake she's become accustomed to walking home, the one that walks tall, reassured by Yang's presence is now replaced with one that looks to almost fear her. When Blake's eyes find hers it's with the same wariness that studied her all those weeks ago the first night they met.

She's not an idiot. She knows what the Schnee name means, and is well aware it's not held with the same regard in Mantle as it is in Atlas. Yang wants to yell that the thought of being a Schnee is laughable, but there is a small selfish part within her that wants Blake to not care. She wants Blake to judge her for who she knows her to be, not for any preconceived notions running through her head.

The realization forces her to pity Weiss a bit. For all the opportunities the name gives her, maybe it closes as many doors.

"I'm not," she finally answers softly, wanting Blake to stop looking at her as if she's the enemy. What was she expecting? Blake to announce that it's okay, because Yang was nice to her a few hours a week and that would erase all the decades of harm her family might be responsible for?

Blake relaxes at her words but tugs her hand back to her body, Yang releases her hold without a fight, instantly missing its soft comfort. Blake's no more in full defense mode, but she's still guarded in a way she hadn't been a few minutes ago. Yang's moments of silence have set them back somehow. It's the opposite of her intentions. It was foolish to have tested Blake as she had. It was cruel.

She twists face Blake. Her hands raise as if to embrace her, wanting to take it all back, but they hover between them for many long moments before she drops them to her side with a huff.

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have given you the impression I was one of them."

"Then why did you?" Her voice is careful, but even and attentive.

"Because I'm stupid?" Yang tries to joke, but Blake's unwavering stare breaks the veil of humour she's using as a shield. She sighs then mumbles, "it's going to sound childish."

"Childish might be better than the insensitive jerk that I'm having a hard time not judging you as at the moment."

There is no anger in her words nor the eyes that study her, only an exhausted regard that gnaws at Yang more than anger would have. Anger can be met with more of the same or even the possibility of passion. Indifference is the last thing she wants Blake to feel for her.

"It's nothing to what I have witnessed others doing to you and your kind." She moves her feet, taking up their original path, dissipating some of the nerves bombarding her. Blake silently follows her lead. "I've seen so many life altering stereotypes when it comes to humans judging faunus, that it almost seems laughable at how I felt growing up."

"What do you mean?"

Her steps falter as she turns to stand on display in front of Blake, arms held out to her sides. "What do you think of me?"

"Excuse me? I'm not sure I understand." Her tone is unsure.

"Me." Yang points a finger to her own sternum, head tilting to the side. "What were your first impressions of me?"

"I don't know," Blake averts her eyes. "You were nice, helped me with that drunk guy and were protective?"

There's a question in her supposed statement and Yang can't help but scoff at the untruthful answer. The noise pulls Blake's eyes back to her. "That's not what you first thought of me, or at least not all of it. You've let slip enough in conversation for me to know a little of what you thought of me."

"And what would that be?" Blake's turns guarded, not grasping Yang's intentions.

"That I was a socialite. Probably a blonde bimbo… One with a hero complex maybe, but a bimbo nonetheless."

Her eyes probe Blake's, searching for answers: confirmation or denial. It's been nagging at her ever since that very first night they met, which seems such a long time ago now.

"Why would you say that?" Blake questions, eyes narrowing.

"You aren't denying it."

"I did not think you were a bimbo," she scoffs, defending herself.

"Then what did you?" Yang starts walking again. "Because you already implied I take no enjoyment from knowledge or simple pleasures, that I take more pleasure in being around crowds and that I like to party. Doesn't seem like that much of a stretch."

"That doesn't mean my mind immediately went to bimbo—" The bridge of Blake's nose crinkles as the word leaves her lips. "Ugh, can we stop using that word? It's irritating me."

Yang laughs sardonically. "Imagine how I must despise it."

They walk another block in silence before Yang notices a small cafe on the corner. Her hand pulls on the door. Blake jolts as the bell chimes loudly. Pressing a gentle hand to her back, Yang urges her to enter. Their eyes meet. Blake's are full of confusion.

"You're still taking me to dinner?" she asks, shocked.

Yang scoffs amusedly. "Of course, I'm a woman of my word."

As the door closes behind them, the cool night air is replaced with a comforting warmth and smell of coffee and a deep fryer that must be responsible for the majority of the menu. It's not what she'd normally choose for a first date. It's not fancy or romantic, but Blake doesn't seem the type to be impressed with extravagance anyway.

"Is this okay?" Yang asks anyway. "We could go somewhere else if you'd prefer."

Blake's already moving between the tables, forcing Yang to follow. "It's fine."

"Fine isn't what I was hoping for on our first date," Yang admits as she settles across from Blake in a booth at the far wall.

"Fine is perfectly acceptable," Blake assures her. "It's better than disastrous."

"Well I suppose you got me there." Yang smiles, waving at the only server in the small cafe.

The girl waves back before grabbing some menus off the counter to make her way to them. They don't take long to decide, Blake orders a burger and fries and Yang opts for a steak and baked potato.

It's hard not to notice how the girl's eyes linger on Blake's ears and then her in turn, as if trying to decipher if Yang is also a faunus, or how they pair together if not. Yang decides to ignore her, not allowing her to ruin this. Blake's the only important one here, and if she hasn't noticed, Yang's not going to draw attention to it.

It's a surprise when Blake orders a tea with her meal, but when the warm mug is placed in front of her all Yang can think is how adorable she looks hunched over the mug, hands both wrapped around its circumference, stealing its warmth. She remembers the feeling of those same fingers doing the same to her hand earlier.

They're silent for a time, Yang sipping her Coke and Blake basking in the warmth of her tea, when Blake finally sits up, bracing against the padded booth at her back.

"Fine," She relents, drumming her fingers on the table between them. "Truthfully, when I first saw you I might've thought you were in the bar looking for a good time, maybe not a hook-up, but some excitement, at the least. That's a fair assumption isn't it?"

It should be. Anyone going to a bar on a Saturday night, you could assume they were there to party and let loose. But she knows that's not why Blake came to that conclusion. She's lived long enough to know what being her means. "What made you think that?" she questions calmly. "Was it the way I was acting?"

"No, I'd only seen you walking in and you hadn't even left that table until…" Blake lets her eyes roll at the memory, "well that guy."

"Then what made you think I was 'looking for a good time'?" Blake frowns, frustrated, but doesn't respond. "My blonde hair perhaps?" Yang supplies, watching the corner of Blake's mouth tighten. "My body maybe? Or did you not notice that?"

"I noticed," she breathes, neck turning a pale pink.

"And you thought…"

"I thought you were a party girl, like one of the many that I've watched come and go every night." Blake finally admits. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"No, but it's what I expected." Their food arrives and Yang pauses long enough to add the fixings to her baked potato. She observes silently as Blake brings a fry to her mouth. It's oddly relaxing watching the delicate way Blake chews. "I've lived with those kinds of stereotypes my entire life. People assume I'm a… trollop, because of the way I look. Do you remember what I was wearing that first night?"

It doesn't take long for Blake to answer. "You were wearing a white button-up."

The easy answer surprises Yang. She could list off every piece of clothing Blake has worn on every night she spent at the bar, but she hadn't known she was also being observed. "Pencil skirt?" Yang asks softly, knowing the answer.

"Pants."

"And that screamed party girl to you?" Yang gives her a quizzical look, knowing when Blake drops the fry in her hand back to her plate that she's made her point. "There was no reason for you to assume I was doing anything but what I was."

"And what would that be?"

"Scouting talent." Yang shrugs. "Ruby and Weiss started a record label a few years back, I kind of manage the talent, or some of it at least. We heard that you sometimes showcased decent sets. I was in my work clothes since we came straight from the office."

Blake studies her, eyes sweeping across her face, looking for any dishonesty. When she finally falls back into the booth she lets out a withering sigh. "I'm sorry." And when she doesn't try to make excuses for herself, Yang's admiration grows.

"It's fine." Yang waves her apology off. "Like I said, it happens all the time, and I've seen much worse aimed at those a lot worse off."

"It's not okay," Blake insists, hand snaking across the table to take hers. She squeezes once before releasing so Yang can continue cutting her steak. "But what does this all have to do with you wanting me to think you were a Schnee."

"I did not want you to think I was a Schnee." She emphasizes with an almost involuntary shudder. "I wanted it not to matter."

"Not to matter?" Blake falls back into the booth analyzing her. "So you want people to think you are a Schnee just to not care if you are? Why?"

"Not people. You." She says for clarity. "I hoped that you might make up your mind on me based on my actions and not what a name or looks would have you believe." She places a piece of steak on her tongue and chews slowly, wanting to explain her reasons without seemingly justifying them. Yang is well aware she is in the wrong on this. "But, it was stupid to think that name could ever be overlooked. I don't blame you, I have a similar aversion to the family as a whole. Weiss excluded."

"So you thought that if I could look past the fact you might be a Schnee, I might be able to look past your looks as well?" Blake questions after swallowing a bite of her burger.

Yang looks away, ashamed. It sounds even more foolish coming from Blake's mouth than it does in her head. "I guess. It was childish and stupid."

"I'd say." Blake agrees, but she doesn't appear upset anymore and is back to her casual demeanor. "But I shouldn't have made assumptions of you before I got to know you, that I will concede to."

They eat in silence, just enjoying each other's company. When Yang breaks their unofficial staring contest to cut up more of her steak Blake suddenly ends the silence.

"What did you think of me when you first saw me?" She throws another fry into her mouth and Yang watches until she swallows before answering.

"I thought," she flushes at the memory, "that you were an angel."

"Excuse me?" The statement stuns Blake.

"It's the truth. At first I was worried for you being shoved up on stage like that, but as soon as you started to sing… I was a goner." Yang smiles wistfully. "And all I wanted was to stop all the noise and their jeers and taunts so I could just listen to your voice."

Blake ducks her head as her cheeks turn scarlet at Yang's honest words. Yang's great at faking confidence with harmless flirtations or for a punchline. Being vulnerable unsettles her so she tries to avoid those feelings if possible. Though this time, she can't help the need to see Blake's reaction. Blake looks away first, but not before giving Yang a soft appreciative smile across the table.

The moment is broken when Blake's arm flashes across the table, fork in hand, to steal a piece of Yang's steak off her plate. She has it in her mouth before Yang can protest. She glares at her though, knowing it can't look at all threatening because Yang can feel the smile pulling at her own lips at the innocent look Blake is giving her.

"This steak is really good," Blake practically moans, and Yang's eyes are drawn to her delicate throat as she swallows. "Full disclosure, there was one more thought going through my mind when I first saw you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Blake raises a brow, waving her fork at Yang's plate. Yang rolls her eyes, but gives in. Her plate is pushed to the middle of the table, allowing Blake to pick her fill in payment for her next revelation. She takes two generous pieces of steak and only after she's swallowed does she continue. "I couldn't help but think whoever you were dating was probably the luckiest person on Remnant."

"Oh?" Yang leans forward, arms braced on the table.

"And that's only been more solidified every night since."

The second revelation strikes Yang hard. Her looks have always given her the benefit of good first impressions. People's attraction to her, whether she welcomed it or not, was usually short lived. Once knowledge that her true personality conflicted with the fantasies people made up in their heads, their attraction always fizzled. But Blake's impressions proved the opposite, growing and not fading with time.

Blake scoops up a portion of baked potato and Yang only watches as she practically devours her meal. She somehow makes the action endearing instead of intrusive and Yang can only attribute it to the rapidly growing fondness she has for her.

"Does that make you the luckiest girl on Remnant?" Yang asks with a soft smile.

Blake studies her as she finally puts down her fork. "Are we dating?"

"Isn't this a date?" Yang gestures to the plates between them.

Blake's gaze follows her motion, noticing she's eaten most of Yang's meal while hers remains nearly untouched. Picking up a fry she reaches to press it to Yang's lips. Yang can only open her mouth to accept her offer.

Blake smiles. "I hope so."

The rest of the night is filled with laughter and light conversation. They talk of music, something both have a passion for. And Yang tells Blake stories of her childhood and some of the crazy situations Ruby always seemed to get them into. In return, Blake tells her about her love for books, and how they are the only real way she has of seeing the world. She tells Yang her favourites and what plots she's despised in the recent months. Most Yang isn't familiar with, but she takes pleasure in Blake's excitement and how she enthusiastically describes each plot.

"Sorry, I've been talking too much on this," she ducks her head, embarrassed at her monopolization of the conversation.

They've been wandering the streets for the past hour, lapping Blake's alley more than once. It's as if neither want the night to end, but Yang can see how Blake rubs at the bare skin on her arms, see's the shivers Blake tries to hide every few minutes as the temperature continues to drop. So when they pass the alley again, Yang turns to finally take its path, making a mental note to carry a jacket with her from now on, even if she doesn't need it. Blake's obviously more affected by the temperature change than she is.

"I don't mind," Yang assures her. "I like hearing you talk." Blake gives her a dubious look, forcing Yang to elaborate. "You're quiet most of the time, I like this side of you." Her smile pulls a similar one from Blake.

"I guess I'm just not used to people caring about what I have to say."

"Preposterous!" Yang exclaims, seeing the way Blake deflates when bringing up her worth in others eyes, or lack thereof.

"Don't hurt yourself, that's a pretty big word."

Yang's jaw goes slack as she fixes a sharp glare in Blake's direction. It's clear Blake's trying to stifle a laugh, but when Yang reaches, not quite having made up her mind on retaliation, Blake shrieks and tries to dodge away, to get to her doorway a couple steps away. Yang's got surprise on her side though, and her arms snake around Blake's middle before she can fully slip away.

"How dare you," Yang growls, pulling Blake's body more firmly against her own. "I should punish you." Her fingers wriggle against Blake's ribs and she squirms in her arms.

"You wouldn't," Blake utters breathlessly, looking up at Yang through the veil of her dark lashes.

"You'd deserve it." Yang pouts. "You hurt my feelings?"

"I'm sorry," she stops struggling as Yang's fingers settle. "How can I make it up to you?"

When Yang's eyes shift to her lips, Blake's copy a moment later. Yang loosens her hold when Blake shifts in her arms, in case she's distressed at being restrained. She doesn't step out of her embrace though, instead she maneuvers her own arms so they aren't trapped at her sides. One comes to rest on Yang's shoulder, the other plays with the collar of her shirt. Yang feels her touch caressing the soft skin of her neck. Sparks flare across her nerves at the delicate feel of Blake's fingers on her bare skin, even if it is completely innocent.

Resting one hand on Blake's hip, the other raises to tip Blake's chin as Yang leans down. Their breaths weave together, and Blake's eyes flutter shut; but Yang needs more than surrender. With anyone else it wouldn't matter, but with Blake, for her, everything matters so much more.

"May I?" she has to ask, stopping before they're lips touch.

Blake's tongue emerges to wet her waiting lips. The action sends a shiver down Yang's spine as it also just barely grazes her own bottom lip before retreating.

"Yes," is her whispered answer.

Tentatively she joins their lips, savouring the feel of Blake's pressing softly against her own. A tilt of her head and gentle urging of her thumb across the length of Blake's jawline is all it takes for Blake to part her lips for her. Tongues gently meet in a tranquil dance. What Yang gives Blake accepts without hesitation, meeting her wholly with each movement. She's warm, burning up and every part of her that's pressed against Blake is on fire, the rest feels cold desolation, envious of the way Blake's lips move against her own, or the pressure of her fingers pressing into her shoulder.

A desperate whimper escapes Blake as she tugs sharply at the collar of Yang's shirt, boldly bringing them closer, deepening the kiss. Her hand moves from Blake's hip to rest in the dip at the small of her back, pressing their bodies together.

Breathing becomes secondary to bridging any and all gaps between them, but nothing lasts forever and all too soon her lungs start to burn and Blake pulls back, taking in a heaving gulp of air. They stand silent as moments pass, the sound of their gasps filling the alley.

"Wow," is all Yang can voice between breaths.

Blake glances at the closed door behind her and back at Yang. Her eyes show the confliction swimming through her mind. No matter how badly Yang wants to make it through that door, she knows tonight is not the night for that.

"It's okay," she says softly, smiling in hopes of reassuring the girl in her arms. "Another night, maybe."

Blake's bottom lip disappears behind a row of pearls before it's released, glistening. "I'm sorry, it's just—"

"You don't ever have to apologize to me, not for this."

"Would you come up if I asked you to?" Her fingers spasm against Blakes hips as she glances to the familiar closed door over Blake's shoulder.

"No, though it would be very, very, tempting." She kisses her again, hard on the mouth. Blake's surprised squeak drowns into a throaty moan as she all but drags Yang to her door. Yang only releases her lips when she feels solid brick at Blake's back. "But, I don't want to rush you, or this."

'I don't want to screw this up,' is what she thinks.

Running a thumb gently over the cut on Blake's bottom lip she asks, "I didn't hurt you did I?" Blake shakes her head ever so slightly. "Good."

Yang withdraws, only enough to give them both space to clear their lustful thoughts. She takes in their surroundings, if only to take her eyes away from how absolutely kissable Blake's lips still look. She starts laughing, deep and fervently.

Blake smiles, bewildered at her sudden levity, but can't help being affected by Yang's infectious spirits. "What's so funny?"

Yang calms, but her mouth spreads wide, not able to completely rid herself of the smile. "I guess we got that dinner date and the midnight alley rendezvous."

Blake blushes and shoves her away, pressing palms into her shoulders. "You're ridiculous."

Yang stumbles a single step, arms releasing Blake as she fights to regain her balance. Yang's fright turns to delight when she sees Blake's amusement with her. Reaching into her jeans, Yang pulls out one of her business cards and holds it out.

"So you have a way of getting a hold of me."

Blake takes it, reading it over. The way she silently mouths her full name gives Yang an impossible feeling of contentment she can't quite explain.

"I'll call you," she responds, looking up from the card.

"Promise?"

"I'll more than likely work tomorrow, Flynt doesn't take many days off, even when he should."

"Like last night?"

"Yeah." Blake's features shift to guilt briefly before she's back smiling, waving Yang's card between her fingers. "But I'll call you if I don't work, so you don't have to come all this way for nothing."

"You're not nothing." The way Blake's eyes shine at her words tell Yang she's done something right.

Blake wordlessly twirls the card between her fingers, before it disappears into the pocket of her jeans. Closing the small distance between them, Blake lifts to her tiptoes and softly kisses Yang's lips once more.

"Good night, Yang."

Yang can only respond with a quick, "Good night, Blake," before Blake is at her door.

She gives Yang one last soft smile before she's out of sight.