Author's Note: I should have written a Jaune fanfic ages ago! It hasn't been a week and follows are already in the triple-digits! And two thousand-plus views and I'm not even ten thousand words in! As thanks for making this my most rapidly-growing story yet, here's a present!

Disclaimer and Warning still apply from the first chapter.

Chapter 3: Get Lucky

Man, I shouldn't have had that fifth glass of milk last night, Jaune thought as he woke up. After the shock of his appointment as team leader the night before, he and his new subordinates (and boy was that hard to wrap his mind around) spent some time bonding as they unpacked and decorated their new dormitory. He, Pyrrha, and Ren had also been forced to talk Nora down from attempting to build bunks out of bed frames that were clearly not designed for such a purpose; he'd had too much misfortune heaped on him to so blatantly thumb his nose at Fate. The end result had been Ren whipping up some of the most delicious pancakes Jaune had ever eaten with his trusty portable griddle ("I never go anywhere without it," he'd confided in Jaune after Nora had gone into a flapjack-induced coma).

It was a strange thing for Jaune to stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling and realize that, barring a worst-case scenario, he would be calling this place home for the next year at least. The feeling was so intense that he was unable to sleep, and resorted to his mother's way of coping with insomnia by drinking warm milk. Of course he should have figured that over-doing it would bite him in the tuchus.

Jaune awkwardly shuffled to the bathroom with his eyelids half-glued shut, making a valiant attempt at keeping his composure. He opened the door, and it took his sleep-addled mind a moment to process the alluring sight before him. Pyrrha stared back at him with wide green eyes, halfway through the motion of pulling her skirt up to her hips.

As redness rose from Pyrrha's exposed chest to her face his brain suddenly snapped to attention and he slapped a hand over his face while shutting the door quickly. "Pyrrha, I'm sorry!" he called, spinning around to head back to bed only to bash his toe against the bedpost. Aura was a hell of a healer and protected from a lot of things, but it apparently only dulled blunt-force trauma, as evidenced by the massive jolt of pain that punched up his leg like a railroad spike. "Why?" he demanded of the uncaring gods above as he cradled his injured foot, only to be once more put in his place as he teetered on the other and toppled over, cracking his head on Magnhild, which had been negligently thrown on the ground by its owner.

Groaning, Jaune blearily regarded the curious turquoise eyes swimming above him. "Jaune? Why are you on the ground?"

The bathroom door creaked open and a (disappointingly) fully-dressed Pyrrha rushed out looking concerned. "Jaune, what happened?"

"Just tripped," he tried to sound reassuring, but he didn't think it worked based on how Pyrrha's frown deepened. It was hard maintaining eye contact after seeing so much of her...

Focus! he commanded himself. That way lays madness...such wonderfully ample madn—NO! Don't think about her boobs, no matter how enticingly supple they looked!

"Are you sure you're alright?" Pyrrha inquired worriedly, and Jaune speculated whether he'd accidentally stepped on a leprechaun or something to have gotten lucky enough for this magnificent goddess to choose him as a partner. She was still concerned about him even after he'd accidentally peeped on her, and a day after meeting , too! He didn't deserve such a sweet person.

"I'm fine, Pyrrha," he reiterated more firmly, slowly standing up and shaking his head experimentally. Thankfully it only gave a dull throb in protest and he once again marveled at the power of Aura. "I'm sort of clumsy, so I'm used to falling down a lot. Comes with the territory of being me."

"Well, if you're sure," she hedged uncertainly. "About earlier..."

"Totally my fault," Jaune insisted, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. "I should have knocked. I didn't mean—"

"It's okay," she cut him off, looking as flushed as he felt. "This was bound to happen eventually, what with our mixed-gender team and all."

Nora, who had been looking bemused, suddenly brightened. "Oh, did you sneak a peak, Jaune-Jaune?" she asked cheerfully. She elbowed him slyly in the ribs. "I didn't know you had it in you, Fearless Leader."

"I-I didn't do it on purpose," he denied frantically, his gaze bouncing nervously between the two girls.

"Suuure ya didn't," Nora drawled with a skeptical smirk, shooting him an exaggerated wink and a thumbs-up. She turned to her female compatriot and stage-whispered, "We're gonna need to keep an eye on this pervert from now on."

Jaune floundered for a moment before giving it up as a lost cause and slinking away to the bathroom to get ready, swiping up one of his new uniforms as he went.

As the door closed behind him, he distinctly heard Nora's speculative voice. "You should make him strip in front of you to get even."

Sighing, he turned on the hot water tap. Just another lovely morning in the life of Jaune Arc.

Professor Peter Port was an avid student of life, believing that in order to be an effective educator one must forever be aware of the the fact that there was always something new to discover. To teach young, bright minds and arm them with knowledge which could very well save their lives was the height of a man's true romance, and Peter loved every second of it.

The fact that Huntresses in training were easy on the eyes was just a pleasant bonus.

As he gave his well-rehearsed opening speech to the new first-year students, Peter allowed himself to inspect this most recent batch. A few stood out, notably the top-heavy blonde in the front row. The size of those biceps...goodness! A strong lass like that would have no end of suitors in her years here.

Peter wasn't a fool; he knew that he sometimes tended to carry on about his exploits more than was strictly necessary. However, if these fine young people couldn't see how to apply the information he was generously dishing out to them then they wouldn't be as excited and eager to learn as they were. Why, the little brunette—er...redhead?—that Ozpin had chosen was vigorously taking notes while the Schnee girl sat studiously beside her partner murmuring softly, probably expressing awe at her new professor's mighty feats of bravery. The sight nearly brought tears to Peter's eyes, not that the salty discharge would ever be foolish enough to even think of falling from his rugged eyelids.

His start-of-term soliloquy finished, Peter strode to the side of the lectern to the rattling cage which had been rattling occasionally and threw off the tarp covering it. Cursed Boarbatusk didn't fancy being caged, well how did it think humanity felt, trapped behind walls and kept in a cage no matter how luxurious?

"Now, who here thinks they have what it takes to be a true Huntsman?" he challenged, scanning the rows steadily. A brief motion to his left caught his attention, but before he could turn fully a loud crash brought his attention to the other side of the lecture hall.

The cause of the disturbance was that blonde young man who had taken down that Giant Nevermore the day before during Initiation, Jaune Arc if he wasn't mistaken. He was lying in a boneless heap at the foot of the stairs leading down to the podium, probably so eager to prove himself that he tripped and fell in his haste.

"Such enthusiasm!" roared Peter jovially, striding forward to help the fellow out. "Up you get. Now, have you your weapon ready, Mr. Arc?"

"Uh..." he began, only for his orange-haired teammate Nora Valkyrie to unexpectedly toss the sheathed arming sword down to Jaune.

"Catch, Fearless Leader!" she called belatedly, right as the pommel struck him squarely in the center of his forehead.

"Nora," young Lie Ren hissed, tone dripping with exasperation.

The girl giggled innocently, poking her bottom lip out and placing a hand on her cheek. "It looks like I just picked myself a bouquet of Oopsie-Daisies!"

"I'm alright," Jaune slurred, staggering as he ducked down to pick up his blade and faced Peter.

"Stupendous!" Peter declared, clapping the hardy fellow on the shoulder, making a point to ignore the boy's slight stumble. "Now, if you'll stand over there, I'll just free this Grimm and let you have at it!"

Peter gently nudged him off to the opposite side of the well and nimbly leapt up to retrieve Prokofiev, his trusty Double-Headed Battle Blunderbuss, secretly chuckling at the dumbstruck expressions on his students' faces. These youngsters, always so firm in the belief that their elders had nothing more to teach them...

He took a position beside the restless cage and stared hard at Jaune. "Are you ready?"

The boy took a deep, steadying breath and released it shakily, closing his eyes. Peter took that as a sign of agreement and swung down with Prokofiev, slicing neatly through the reinforced padlock with ease.

The Boarbatusk wasted no time in nosing aside the door and bursting out into freedom. With Peter outside of its limited peripheral vision, the Grimm's eyes focused upon Jaune and it snorted in rage before charging. Four hoofbeats in it leapt forward and curled itself into a ball going twice as fast.

With an odd-sounding battle-cry, Jaune bared steel and Peter was taken back to the days when his father would speak in hushed, reverent tones of the Yellow Death, the sword which had ended the Color Wars once and for all. As the shield extended from its scabbard form and the twin arches of House Arc formed the aging professor wondered what Crocea Mors' newest wielder would achieve with such a legendary weapon at his hip.

Jaune promptly dropped the heater shield on his foot and knelt to pick it up, only for the bottom point to get jammed into a crack in the flagstones. For a moment, Peter was worried the boy would get steamrolled flat like a pancake, but when the spin-dashing Boarbatusk reached him the shield acted as a ramp with Jaune supporting the weight. Like one of those silly daredevils who tried jumping the Dark Divide on a motorcycle, the Boarbatusk went flying up into the air, bouncing off two walls before landing stomach-first onto the outstretched blade of Crocea Mors.

There was a moment of shocked silence before the blonde girl with the incredibly fetching biceps whooped and shouted, "Yeah, Crow Food! I always said you'd make a good warrior when pigs fly."

"You've only known me for a few days," Jaune shot back, rolling his eyes. He pulled his blade out of the fading Boarbatusk, and Peter sighed. The students never thought how difficult it might be to wrangle a Grimm for them to practice on, never gave him any consideration.

Speaking of students, Peter looked curiously at Jaune, who was cleaning the ichor from Crocea Mors' silvery steel. Even he would have had trouble holding that shield steady against a Boarbatusk in full charge, no matter how good his leverage. That boy mist have had something else helping him out.

The bell rang, and Peter dismissed the group of students idly. Well, time to head back to the Emerald Forest and find Edgar XXIV!

Jaune rubbed his shoulder to soothe the residual pain of getting rammed into by five hundred pounds of cursed pork at high speeds. That had been close, but if he was able to handle something like that on his first day of classes, then he shouldn't be too far behind the rest, right?

Sighing, he hung his head. Jaune was a terrible liar; he couldn't even lie to himself to put some cheer back into his life. Maybe coming to Beacon had been a mistake...

A small, fast-moving object slammed into him without warning, and Jaune threw out his arms to catch himself as he fell backward. His shoulders hit cold stone followed quickly by the back of his head, and a human-shaped thing landed on him soon after.

"Ugh," he groaned, trying to get a grip on whatever had hit him. The odd, springy sensation that his hands reported was strange, and Jaune opened his eyes to inspect his assailant.

Blue eyes much paler than his own glared down at him from a pink face, and he frowned in confusion. "Weiss? What are you...?"

Jaune suddenly registered that his hands were in a very...compromising place on Weiss' body, and he only had a moment to lament his terrible luck before Weiss slugged him in the nose. His skull struck the ground for the second time in as many minutes, and Jaune briefly considered just falling to unconsciousness. But there was something besides indignant fury in Weiss' eyes, and the protective instinct tattooed into his brain by seventeen years of living with a bevy of sisters desperately called out to aid her.

So he sucked up the pain and gave her his best serious face. "Weiss, what's wrong?"

"What's wro—?" For a moment she seemed speechless with rage. "I'm being molested by a giant doofus, that's what's wrong!"

"Sorry, that was an accident," he said, "You did run into me in the first place...not that I'm complaining!" Jaune hurriedly explained when the anger rose high in her cheeks. "But...well, I mean our teams are right across the hall from each other, and if you've got a problem I'm always around to lend an ear. My sisters always said I'm a great listener."

"Sucking up to me isn't going to work," she snapped, somehow managing to make scrabbling to her feet look graceful. "It's been tried too many times for me to fall for such basic tactics."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, bewildered. "I'm not trying to suck up; I'm trying to be a good friend!"

"You hardly know me!" she said, throwing his words to Yang earlier back at him. "We're virtually strangers!"

"Well..." Jaune's mind went back to his meeting with Ruby and he smiled a little. "My mom used to say that strangers are just friends you haven't met yet."

"It's a wonder you and your sisters were never kidnapped," she retorted, but a hint of uncertainty glimmered in her eyes. "I...just had an upsetting conversation with Professor Port, if you must know."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he offered hesitantly.

"...I'm angry that Ruby was made team leader and not me," she admitted, looking away. "I mean, I was...I don't know. She's two years younger than everyone else, some sort of prodigy or something. I've spent my entire life learning how to lead from the best tutors in the world, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't even want to be leader!"

"Well, maybe that's it," Jaune pointed out softly. When Weiss looked at him in bemusement he elaborated. "My dad liked to say that the ones most fit to lead are the ones who don't want to lead at all. Not that wanting to lead is bad or anything," he was quick to clarify, "but I think what he meant was that overconfidence is a bad quality in a leader."

"So you're saying that I'm overconfident?" she demanded, her vitriol growing once more.

"No, no!" he denied hastily, running an anxious hand through his hair. Why was he so bad with words? "Well, maybe a little? I think, maybe you should stop focusing on what you don't have and spend some time trying to be the best at what you already are: Ruby's partner. Instead of getting mad that she was picked as leader instead of you and thinking that she's not the right choice, help her become the right choice. I mean, you said it yourself, you were taught how to be a great leader, so you should be the best person to bring her up to snuff on the whole situation."

Weiss blinked several times slowly. "You...might be onto something," she said, sounding vaguely surprised. "I'm shocked I'm about to say this, but thank you for the advice, Jaune." She reached down and helped him to his feet. "Just this once, I'll overlook your crass attempts at groping me," she said, flushing prettily.

"Th-thanks?" he replied. "I think I'm going to take a walk and clear my head. If you're going to dinner, could you tell my team?"

"Very well," Weiss agreed and turned away. "Have a pleasant stroll."

He watched the white-haired girl until she disappeared around the corner, then headed for the main avenue. For a moment, he thought he'd seen a figure standing in a doorway down the hall, but when he looked more closely there was nothing in sight.

After-Action Report: And Jaune's bi-polar luck strikes again. He's probably got a concussion after all those conks on the ol' noggin, but it doesn't matter: he saw Pyrrha's bewbs and got to touch Weiss' with no repercussions! I'd count that as a win. Plus Jaune dispenses some Arc family wisdom to Weiss, and we get an insight into the intriguing mind of Peter Port.

The name I've given Port's weapon comes from Sergei Prokofiev, the writer and composer of Peter and the Wolf, which the tale that Professor Port has been confirmed to allude to. More non-named weapons will be named, and there'll probably be a bit more peripheral world-building. And for those who read The Golden Retriever, there's a little tiny Easter Egg that references one of the recent locations shown in that story here in Peter's segment, so if you caught that, awesome!

Any questions or comments are welcome in either a review or a private message. My sincerest thanks and appreciation go out to everyone who followed, favorited, and most especially reviewed this silly tale of mine, and I'd like to wish you all a great day!