Blake wondered, sometimes, what that fierce and self-assured kid who ran off with the White Fang would think of her now. Sometimes it hurt to think about. And sometimes, like now, it made her want to laugh. Here she was, sitting in her dorm in the most prestigious combat school in Vale, possibly all of Remnant, handing a well-worn copy of Ninjas of Love to Weiss Schnee in the hope that it might help her feel a little bit better about her wings.

It wasn't exactly free of questionable content, but it was one of the best stories she'd ever found that had a faunus hero. Which was why it was also the only book she'd ever forgiven for having a cat faunus dominatrix in it. And that really was the cherry on top of the whole bizarre situation, wasn't it? She just accidentally got Weiss of all people into smut.

Sort of. Not really. Weiss said she was skimming over those parts. For the sake of her own sanity, Blake chose to believe her.

It turned out that Weiss had no idea how to relax. She approached reading for pleasure with exactly the same intensity she normally brought to her textbooks, and devoured the entire first novel in one five-hour sitting. All of a sudden, Blake was tangled up in an in-depth conversation about ivy motifs, and obscure pieces of worldbuilding, and the symbolism of the characters' weapons. She wasn't sure whether to be baffled or delighted.

Then Weiss went off on a long and meandering tangent about what might have happened if Shori hadn't died. "I wish I could read that," Blake said casually. "It sounds brilliant." The effect on Weiss was immediate—her ears turned bright red, and she turned her head a little too late to hide a small, hesitant smile.

Delighted, Blake decided. Definitely.

If it was a little heartbreaking how quickly Weiss melted under the slightest praise or affectionate touch, Blake tried not to dwell on it. Instead, she focused on coaxing out one genuine smile after another. Each one, it seemed to her, was just a tiny bit wider.

Part of Blake was reluctant to leave the room at all. She hated to make Weiss wear the bindings again when she didn't absolutely need to, but it wasn't fair to confine her to their dorm either. And, eventually, she got fed up of staying in one place.

"Coffee," Weiss said, slamming her hand down on her desk. "In Vale. Please. I need to get out of here."

Blake tapped her chin, pretending to think.

"Fine!" Weiss rolled her eyes. "Coffee and tea. Heretic."

They walked into Vale, slipping into the now-familiar rhythm of conversation. It wasn't always about "faunus stuff," as Yang had put it—sometimes they talked about books, or Blake tried to coax some other hobbies out of her. This time, though, Weiss had a question that was at least a decade overdue.

"Do people ever call you things? Like... pet names, I suppose."

"Does street harassment count?"

"No." Weiss toyed with her sleeve. "More positively."

Blake wracked her brain for a moment. "I guess... my parents used to call me their cub. I hated it when I was a kid. Not because of the faunus connection, it just made it hard to feel like one of the grown-ups."

Weiss snorted. "Of course you were the precocious type."

"And you weren't?"

"I don't know. I never really felt like a child, except..." Weiss' expression grew distant. "My grandfather used to call me engel. Angel, in an old Mantle dialect. He was human, so maybe he wasn't supposed to, but..."

"I couldn't say." Blake shrugged helplessly. "I never met him, so you're a much better judge of how he meant it."

"I don't know how to feel about him," Weiss admitted. "He interfered, when I was a baby and Father wanted to correct the issue."

Blake's opinion of Weiss' grandfather rose dramatically.

"Technically it's his fault I've been stuck in between like this, but I doubt that was intentional. He died before I was old enough to bind my wings, so I don't think he realized what hiding them would actually entail. I liked the name, though. Winter hardly ever talks about what I am, and Whitley doesn't know."

"Do you miss it? The nickname?" Blake wasn't a huge fan of them—the animal-themed ones always came from the skeeviest humans, and most of the others she could remember carried only bad memories. Darling. His little shadow. My love. But that, at least, was baggage Weiss probably didn't have.

Weiss frowned. "Why?"

"I guess I was wondering how you'd feel about us using it. The three of us, I mean."

"Oh." She paused, considering it. "It would be strange, I think."

"Right." And suddenly, Blake remembered the other nickname Weiss had in their group of friends. "I guess Neptune gets a pass?" she teased.

Weiss turned scarlet. "It wasn't like that," she grumbled.

"Sorry—"

"Don't be. I thought it was, too." Weiss turned so that she was looking anywhere but at Blake. "I liked the name, but that's all."

Blake wasn't sure how to respond to that, and she didn't get the chance to figure it out—they'd reached a much busier street that led to a local cafe Blake had taken a liking to. Someone might overhear if they kept talking.

Within minutes each of them had a steaming take-out cup in their hand. Weiss was eyeing the room with some disappointment, noticing that there was nowhere at all for them to talk privately. Blake grinned at her and gestured towards a door near the back. "Follow me."

They made their way upstairs, and came out onto a rooftop scattered with a few tables. "Nobody comes up here this time of year," Blake said.

"What? Why?"

As if in answer, a stiff breeze picked up. Vale's roads were mostly a patchwork, meandering tangle, but this particular street cut an arrow-straight path all the way to the docks—and also happened to be at the exact wrong angle to catch the winds that blew in from the sea. In summertime, the place had been bustling. Now, with an early-autumn chill in the air...

The wind reached a peak, screaming past them with such force that a potted plant sitting on one corner of the roof tipped over. Weiss went stiff.

Stupid, Blake snarled at herself. This is an awful place to talk, why would you ever—

And then, Weiss laughed. The sound startled both of them, ringing out as clear and bright as a silver bell over the howling wind. The air smelled faintly of brine, not the fishy scent of the docks but something deeper and wilder, swept in from far beyond the shore. She threw her arms out as if to catch it, dancing backwards until she was balanced on a low wall right at the edge of the roof.

"Weiss—" Blake blurted, reaching out as her teammate swayed back and forth.

"Oh, please! Ozpin threw us off a cliff our first day at Beacon, this is barely fifteen feet." Weiss did hop down, though, and made a futile attempt to push her hair out of her face. Quite a lot of it had escaped her ponytail and utterly refused to be tamed.

There was something to her then, all ruffled and askew as she leaned into the wind. A spark in her eyes that Blake wanted to draw out of her again and again, over and over, as many times as it took for it to stay there.

"Um." Weiss fussed with her hair again. "Should we... sit?"

Blake realized she was staring, and shook herself. "Right, sorry." Her chest hurt, as though something inside had swelled too big and too fast. "It's just nice seeing you so happy." She fidgeted with her mug, swirling the tea around and around.

"Oh." Weiss sat down, clutching her coffee against her chest. "I suppose I am. Happy, I mean."

"That's good." Blake's mouth was dry. She swallowed, hard. "Really good."

Weiss waved her off, flashing a strained smile. "Yes, well, I suppose it helps your case a little. I'm still far from convinced, though."

"What?" Blake reached out to cover one of her hands with her own. "Weiss, no! I know I was pushy about that before, and... honestly, I don't think I can let it go. Even imagining how I'd feel if that happened to me makes me sick."

Weiss sighed. "Blake..."

"But I know that's not what you need right now." Blake squeezed her hand, and smiled softly when she squeezed back. "I know it does more harm than good when I try to force you to do what I think is right. I'm trying really hard to back off, but if you think I only care about that one part of you, then obviously I haven't tried hard enough. You're so much more than that, Weiss."

"Don't."

"It's true," Blake insisted. "You're brave, and you're strong, and you're kind when you think no one is looking. You spent your whole life living in fear that someone would find out your secret, and then you told Goodwitch to protect your friends. No matter how much you're struggling, you're still someone I'm thankful that I got to meet."

She heard Weiss' breath catch in her throat. Then she spoke, so quietly that Blake would have had no hope of hearing her if it weren't for her ears. "Do you have any idea what you've all done to me?" She pulled her hands away. "You keep making me want things I can't have. How will I go back to the way things are supposed to be after all this?"

Blake wrestled down the surge of anger, because she knew Weiss would think it was aimed at her. "Don't," she said simply. "You deserve better."

Weiss made a wounded noise in the back of her throat. And then, before Blake could try to apologize, she threw herself across the table and wrapped her arms around her.

For a moment Blake floundered, too stunned by Weiss actually initiating a hug to know what to do. Then she let her palms rest flat against her back, feeling the bony curve of her wings through layers of fabric. For a second she panicked, thinking that Weiss would jump away the moment she felt it—but she only grabbed a fistful of the back of her shirt.

Blake could feel her heartbeat. There was something almost warlike in it, the wild pounding drum of a Weiss that laughed into the wind and perched on cliff edges. A Weiss her father had been trying to kill for seventeen years. A Weiss that was hidden, buried, and very much alive. In that moment, all she wanted was to pull at this thread, to warp the world around them until it was a place where that Weiss could walk openly and know exactly how much she was worth.

Realization bloomed beneath her ribs. A curl of warmth that froze and cracked and splintered inside her, as she finally realized what she'd been thinking. What she'd been feeling. Her body went rigid, and Weiss pulled away as if burned.

"Um," she said.

Blake tucked her hands into her pockets, so that Weiss wouldn't see her dig her nails into her palms. "Sorry. I'm getting a bit cold."

"Right."

The trip back to Beacon was about twenty-five minutes. So that was how much time Blake gave herself to scour away these feelings that were the last thing she wanted, the last thing Weiss needed, and the absolute last thing that Yang deserved. It wasn't enough.

She tried to bury herself in a book in the last hours before the sisters returned—except that she could hear pages turning on the other side of the room, and she kept stumbling over little details that reminded her of Weiss picking them apart with laser-focused precision. Because she'd been stupid enough to get all this tangled up in the one thing that could reliably distract her.

No. That wasn't fair. Weiss needed something she could do to relax, and it was a good thing she'd taken to books this well. This was a good thing, and if Blake was going to freak out about it then that was her problem and it was going to stay that way.

The door unlocked with a sharp click that made Blake jump. Her stomach twisted into a hard knot as Ruby charged in first. Would she not feel the same anymore? Was she really that shallow?

Then Yang walked in wearing a wide, crooked grin, and Blake melted. She was on her feet before she realized what she was doing. Familiar arms wrapped around her, and she felt more than heard the Yang's chuckle. "Hello to you too."

"I missed you," she said, and it was not a lie. Her world was not crumbling apart. The past few hours had been a blip, that was all, and everything was back the way it was supposed to be.

Until she pulled away, and she noticed Weiss looking. She had the third Ninjas of Love book tucked halfway under her pillow to hide the cover, saving her place with her pinky, and it looked like she was almost to the halfway point. She was going to lose her mind when they opened the Last Sanctuary, and Blake wanted to be there when she did.

For an instant, there was so much affection welling up in her chest that it left no room for anything else—so much that she couldn't make heads or tails of who it was for. She tried to unravel it, and was left with only a sickening knot of guilt in the pit of her stomach.

This was too much. She stayed still for as long as she could, pretending to read on her bunk until she finally felt it was safe to slip away. Once she was out of sight she wandered all the way up to the roof, hoping the bite of the night air would settle her. It only reminded her of the way Weiss had lit up with the wind whipping through her hair.

She sat down heavily by the edge of the roof and put her head in her hands. "What is wrong with you?"

"Um..."

Blake jumped and whirled around. "Oh, no!" she blurted, when she saw Yang in the doorway. "I didn't mean you!"

"I know." Yang plopped down next to her and tried for a smile, but it soon faded into concern. "I haven't heard you that angry in a while."

"I'm okay. Really."

Yang looked at Blake, with one eyebrow slightly raised. Waiting patiently for her to crack.

It didn't take long. Blake hugged herself around the middle, staring fixedly at her lap. An arm wrapped around her shoulders, drawing her in close. She buried her face in the crook of Yang's neck, savoring the warmth of her, and for a moment the closeness blotted out everything else.

Just for a moment. Before Blake remembered who she was taking comfort from, and why, and pulled away.

"Hey... what's wrong?"

She was so lucky she'd found someone, anyone willing to put up with her—let alone someone like Yang. Someone who had real strength, the kind that embraced vulnerability rather than hiding it away. Who threw herself so fully into loving other people that sometimes, through sheer force of will, she could even convince them that they deserved it. Who had strong opinions about the Achieve Men that Blake still didn't understand, and a splash of freckles across her nose, and a habit of making the worst jokes imaginable with such earnest delight that it was somehow charming.

But nothing is ever enough for you, is it?

A soft hand closed over hers. "Did something happen with Weiss?"

She felt sick. "She didn't do anything wrong. I'm..." Her throat closed up, her insides twisting into hot, guilty knots. "I'm sorry," she choked out.

"What?" Yang shifted so that she was looking at Blake head-on. "What happened? Did you guys get in another fight?"

Blake shook her head. "No," she insisted. "It's not her fault, I just—I can't make it stop, I know I'm not supposed to feel like this—" She clamped her mouth shut so quickly she almost bit her tongue, but it was too late. Her own words hung in the air. She couldn't take them back.

Yang stared blankly at her for a second. Then there was a flicker of something in her eyes that she quickly blinked away. "Wait. Did... did you two...?"

"No!" Blake clenched her hands together. "Gods, no. I don't want that, I'm trying to make it go away. I want to be with you, I'd never forgive myself if I—!" She hissed, fingernails digging painfully into her palms. Her own breathing sounded harsh in her ears.

"So... you're saying you're attracted to her?"

She stared at her clenched fists, not wanting to see the disgust on Yang's face.

"Hey. Look at me? Please? I need you to listen."

She didn't want to... but didn't she owe her at least that much? So she raised her head, and Yang pressed their foreheads together. Suddenly Blake couldn't see anything except her eyes, shining bright and vibrant in the moonlight.

"That's completely normal."

It felt like accidentally flipping two pages in a book—like she'd skipped to the wrong section and now nothing made sense. "What?"

"C'mon." Yang grinned at her. "Just because we're together now doesn't mean you don't have eyes. Heck, I live with her too. Now that I understand why she's... like that... I get it. She's pretty." Her expression softened. "I'm never going to be mad at you for having feelings, Blake. I promise."

It was a good thing, too, because Blake was brimming over with so many feelings in that moment she couldn't have identified any of them if her life depended on it. The only thing they seemed able to agree on was that she should kiss Yang, right now. So she did.

Her frantic heartbeat slowed. She settled into Yang's side, letting the guilt and frantic dread drain out of her. "I'm sorry," she said again, and Yang made an indignant noise. "Not for that, just—you're right. I know you're right. I shouldn't have overreacted like that." Seeing Blake make a comically big deal out of what was probably a very slight crush couldn't have felt great on Yang's end.

Yang leaned their heads together. "You're okay," she promised. Her arm tightened protectively around her shoulders. "I just... were you... scared of me?"

"Huh?" Blake furrowed her brow, and tried to figure out exactly what she'd been expecting Yang to do with that information. Her stomach twisted. "Not exactly," she said quietly. "I think I was expecting you to be angry." Which didn't sound much like Yang at all. Hurt, maybe—but semblance or no, she was not someone who lashed out at the people she cared about.

Blake's throat got tight all over again. "It would have made more sense for you to yell at me," she admitted. And then, because this was starting to turn into a conversation she did not have the emotional capacity for right now, "That's what would happen in a book, anyway."

Yang pulled her in close and kissed her temple. "Never," she promised.

I love you. Now wasn't the time to say it, given how this conversation had started—but she thought it, and she wanted to give a little of it back. "You can tell me how you're feeling, too. Even if it's messy. I—" And here she choked just a little, because there were some things Blake couldn't promise twice, and unconditional trust was one of them. "I don't think you could scare me off if you tried," she said instead, because it was the truth. Her trust could be broken, but she believed with everything she had that Yang would never.

For a moment it seemed like that would be it—they sat together looking at the stars, the silence stretching out between them like a warm blanket. Then, as if picking up a conversation they'd never had, Yang said, "Summer wasn't my first mom."

And she told Blake—about Raven, and about Summer, and about the space they'd left behind. It was cold on the roof, but curled together like this she hardly noticed. She sat there, playing absentmindedly with Yang's hair as she listened.

When she was done, it still wasn't the right time to say it. So Blake leaned into her and said, "I'm glad I picked you in the Emerald Forest."

"You picked me?"

"Mm-hmm." Blake's eyelids were getting heavy with the late hour, and the warmth of Yang's body, and the sense that she could fall asleep right now and be totally, perfectly safe. "Best decision I ever made."