Breaking Through the Bottom of the Bottle
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Five years after Beacon, Jaune's still going home alone as often as not. An unlikely encounter with Yang may have just the solution- drinks, company, and a hell of a lot of pickup lines.
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Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY. Duh.
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"Hey. You know what I'd do if I were King of Vale? I'd rearrange the alphabet so I could put U and I together."
"Pity. I'd prefer to put as much distance between them as I could. Good day."
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"I know milk does a body good, but baby, how much have you been drinking?"
"Not nearly enough to make that work."
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"Hel-oi! You could have let me finish first!"
"Sorry, thought I'd save time."
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"I don't got this," Jaune admitted a bit later as he slunk back to Yang, who was elegantly nursing a margarita. It was odd to think of 'Yang' and 'elegant' in the same sentence, but it seemed to fit- the boisterous bruiser and beautiful girl had matured into a woman. Gone was the last of the baby fat in her cheeks, and in its place a sharper, more deliberate sort of beauty.
The smirk she had, though- the grin and inevitable teasing- that was all Yang.
"Oh, poor baby," Yang cooed. "Do you need to cry in my bosom?" she asked, opening her arms as if for a hug.
"That won't be necessary," Jaune denied, not even flushing since he knew she was kidding. "Just didn't work tonight, that's all."
"Does it ever?" Yang asked, skeptical.
"Eh, sometimes," Jaune said. "Ask enough people if they want to bonk, and eventually someone will say yes. This works a bit better than that."
"Who the heck taught you that?" Yang asked, even as she took a sip of… something.
"Your uncle," Jaune said, timing it just as Yang was taking a drink. "A true master of the pickup lines, that one." It was a rare thing to see Yang choke like that, and Jaune was smiling as she composed herself.
"Uncle Qrow?" Yang asked, struggling for breath. "You took dating advice from Uncle Qrow?"
"It was awhile ago, but yeah," Jaune admitted. "After Beacon, and…" he trailed off.
Yang didn't pay attention, didn't let the topic shift that way.
"You took dating advice from Uncle Qrow," she repeated, as if clarifying.
"Uh, yeah. I think we've both said that by now," Jaune affirmed.
"My Uncle. Who's closer to fifty than forty. You took his advice."
"Uh… is there a problem with experience?" Jaune asked.
"My Uncle. The lech. Who the closest thing to a girlfriend he ever had that I'm aware of was Weiss's sister Winter. Who tried to kill him."
"Okay, so maybe he doesn't have the best resume," Jaune began, "but-"
"My Uncle. Who is old, and single, and has been all his life. Who hasn't kept a stable relationship in decades. You asked for dating advice from a guy who was an awesome uncle but a lifelong bachelor?"
"Okay, so maybe it doesn't sound so smart when you put it like that," Jaune said, "but-"
Yang held up a gloved finger to stop him. "What you need," she ruled, "is help from a master. Which would be me."
"Wouldn't that make you my mistress?" Jaune pointed out.
"Why Jaune! I'd love to, thanks for asking," Yang said, putting on airs.
Jaune rolled his eye. "I don't see you picking up any guys yourself while I was getting rejected," he pointed out.
"You also didn't see me getting rejected," Yang pointed out. "So as far as you're concerned, I have a perfect record tonight. Besides, for your information I did get a number."
Jaune blinked. "Really? I didn't see it- whose was it?"
Yang rattled off a number which Jaune quickly recognized.
"My number doesn't count," Jaune discounted.
"I disagree," Yang said. "I've had better results tonight than you, at least."
Jaune was skeptical. "You don't win until you actually go home with what you set out for," he said.
Yang paused. "Work in progress, I guess," she conceded. "The night is still young."
"So it is," Jaune agreed, but noticed Yang was watching him. "What?" he asked.
Being caught seemed to startle her, but she rallied quickly.
"Oh," she began, "I was just wondering if you knew the essential difference between sex and conversation."
It seemed an obvious answer. "I mean, one uses your mouth, and in the other you… can also use your mouth," he remembered, catching himself.
Yang tutted. "No, huh? Then feel free to talk to me whenever you want," she suggested.
"For?" he said, just to draw it out.
"My help, of course," Yang said, preening with pretension. "A lovely, beautiful woman is offering to spend time with you tonight. You'd have to be an idiot to miss out on such an offer."
"Why do you I get the feeling you want me to beg on my knees?" Jaune asked dryly.
"Because, Jaune," Yang said, leaning forward and dropping her voice to a husky tone. "I'd love to see you begging on your knees."
Jaune leaned back and laughed, loud and hard, until Yang leaned back too with a smile and Jaune calmed down enough to point at her. "Prove it," he said, amused himself. "Show me your stuff."
Yang looked at him, raised an eyebrow, but then gave a generous shrug and began to reach for the zipper of her jacket.
Jaune snorted, not even flushing. "How to flirt," he corrected, not even slightly embarrassed.
Yang considered, and held out one gloved hand to point at a point in the bar about six feet away. "Go over there," she said, pointing with her pointer finger.
A bit confused, Jaune stood up and did as she said, only swaying a little from all the alcohol. When he got there, though, Yang turn her hang palm-side up. She slowly curled the finger in, a silent come-hither, that had Jaune walking back.
"You see?" she asked, as if it were self-explanatory.
"Uh, what was that?" Jaune asked, confused.
"That," Yang explained with a grin, "was me making you come with just one finger. Now imagine what I could do with two."
It took a second, but Jaune laughed all the harder when he caught it. "Alright, you got me there," he admitted.
"Not yet, but I intend to," Yang said. "Now, wanna see something swell?"
"Sure," Jaune agreed. "What is it?"
Yang didn't respond verbally, but looked at something about six inches below his naval. The alcohol must have begun to dull his wits, because it took him another second too long to realize. He belatedly covered himself, but still didn't blush.
"Ah well, nothing yet. Maybe later," Yang said easily, looking back towards safer territory. "That's a nice jacket you have there. Is it new?" she asked.
Jaune looked down. It was a nice shirt- not too small, but not baggy either. Familiar as it might have been in his old hoodie colors, it hinted at the well developed core beneath. "It is, actually," he said. "I got it from-"
But Yang was ignoring his mouth- at least for now. "That jacket looks very becoming on you," she said. "Of course, if I were on you I'd be coming to."
Jaune didn't even close his mouth, suddenly slack-jawed at his friend's unexpected side. Or at least, unexpected to be aimed at him. It didn't take long for her to notice, or latch on.
"Am I drop-jaw gorgeous, or is that an invitation to put whatever I want there?" she asked.
Jaune closed his mouth hastily, finally worked into a real blush. "Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?" he asked.
"Depends," she returned. "Do you have sex with total strangers?"
"No!" Jaune protested.
"Oh," she said, not actually disappointed. "In that case I'm Yang."
Jaune groaned, and lowered his head to the table, picking up and waving a white napkin in surrender. "I miss the days when your puns were PG-13," he moaned.
Yang smirked, and took a drink in victory. "I still enjoy a bad pun as much as the next person-"
"We didn't," Jaune groused seditiously, but Yang pretended to ignore him.
"-but innuendo's where it's at. There's a whole other level of word play out there. Ruby's not the only one who grew up over Beacon," she said carelessly.
There was a pause, and a hint of worry passed her eyes, but Jaune was already waving it past before she could say anything.
"Don't worry," he said, moving on and picking himself up off the table with a more genuine frown than he'd had going down. He waved for another beer, forcing a laugh even if it lacked in mirth. "Still, can't believe you'd call that an improvement for flirting," he said, going back on topic. "Weiss would have slapped me if I'd tried that back in the day- or worse."
Yang shrugged dismissively. "Eh- different age, different context. Who are you hoping to find in a bar like this- Ms. Right, or Ms. Right Now?"
It wasn't meant to be anything serious, but when Jaune didn't respond she looked over to see him staring down at his just-arrived beer. There was no smile as he watched the spirits at the bottom of his glass.
"Does it really have to be one or the other?" he asked softly, so quietly she had to read his lips for half of the words.
Yang frowned, and this time it was her turn to throw an arm out over his shoulder. "You know what? Don't mind me," she said, taking back her earlier dismissal. "Stranger things have happened, right? Maybe Ms. Right is Ms. Right Here," she said optimistically. "Just talk to her, and I'm sure you'll hit it off."
Jaune shook his head, but more to clear his head than to disagree with her. "You're right," he said, rousing himself to better cheer, putting the moment of moodiness behind him. "Won't find her if I don't look, right? Or maybe I can find Mr. Right for you," he suggested with a chuckle.
Yang's chuckle was a bit more forced. "Right," she agreed. "Maybe you'll see him in the bathroom when you're washing up," she suggested.
"Funny place to look, but I'll keep an eye open," Jaune promised, before stepping off his stool and stepping away. He made his way to a possibly single lady drinking further down the bar, and Yang watched him go.
"Dumb blonde," she muttered once she was sure he was safely out of earshot, though who she was referring to wasn't quite clear. She looked down, and noted a severe lack of drink before her, and sighed. Maybe she'd be drinking alone tonight after all.
Still…
"Excuse me," she called, signaling the bartender. "Can I get a Strawberry Sunrise over here?"
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End Fourth Round
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Author Note:
Sweet jesus and holy-moly, references to drinking and sex in a T rated story? All those little teenage hearts, ruined forever by pickup culture. How ever will their little minds endure the innuendo? Someone fetch me a fainting couch.
On a separate note- Yang likes puns The definition of pun is: a play on words. Typically suggesting two or more meanings, by exploiting multiple meanings, or similar-sounding words, for an intended humorous or rhetorical effect. I simply consider Yang's migration of puns towards innuendo and higher forms of wordplay a reflection of her maturation and character development at Beacon.
It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I don't actually catch most of Yang's puns in the first place. [/playing it straight]