Chapter 7: Dates to the Dance

Reviews:

fall0fdark: Glad you enjoy the story! And yeah, trust me, we'll see what the White-Fang have in store for Jaune.

A. J Savage: Yeah, that's kind of the point.

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Ironwood looked up from his desk as the door to his office aboard the warship slid open, revealing Winter stepping in with her usual precision. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth—rare and brief, but genuine. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Winter," he greeted, standing from his seat and clasping his hands behind his back.

"Of course, sir," Winter replied, returning the smile with one of her own as she approached. "What did you need to speak to me about, General?"

Ironwood paused for a moment, clearly enjoying the build-up to what he was about to say. "Well," he began, his voice light with amusement, "you're going to need a dress,"

Winter blinked. "Sir?" she asked, her brow arching in confusion.

He chuckled softly, leaning against the edge of his desk. "You're being assigned as a chaperone for the upcoming Beacon dance,"

Winter tilted her head slightly, still processing the unexpected announcement. "May I ask why I've been given this... particular duty?"

Ironwood gave a short sigh, though the smirk returned. "Well, firstly, you'll be keeping an eye on Penny, I don't expect her to cause any trouble—she's been doing remarkably well—but I've overheard some of the Beacon students making comments about how 'cute' or 'adorable' she is, and... well..." He trailed off, clearing his throat.

Winter gave him a knowing look, her expression growing amused. "You're worried some lovestruck boy might try to sneak her back to his dorm and get intimate with a highly classified piece of Atlas military technology?" she asked, her tone dry but laced with humor.

Ironwood coughed into his fist, clearly flustered. "Yes... precisely that," he admitted, his voice low and a touch embarrassed.

Winter couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped her lips. "Understood, sir, I'll make sure no one gets too close to her," She told him. "I'll play the terrifying older sister figure if I have to,"

"Good," Ironwood said with a firm nod. "But if Penny does want to ask a boy to the dance, let her, Pietro's made it very clear he wants her to experience this event to the fullest, that includes the social aspects, just make sure that, if she does ask someone, the boy keeps his hands to himself,"

"Understood, General," Winter replied, her expression shifting into something more serious and protective. "I'll keep a close eye on her."

Ironwood nodded once more, then gave a small, more genuine smile. "My second reason for assigning you to the dance is a bit more personal: I think you should enjoy yourself, too."

Winter blinked, slightly caught off guard. "Sir?"

"You've taken a few vacation days since arriving in Vale, but you've banked so many over the years that you could take almost half a year off and still have some to spare," he said, almost teasing. "You've earned a break, Winter. You've more than earned it. Go to the dance, not just as a soldier or a chaperone—but as yourself. Have some fun."

Winter softened slightly, her posture relaxing. "Ah... Forgive me, sir. Back in Atlas, I never really knew what to do with time off. I always felt... restless when I wasn't working."

"It's understandable," Ironwood said kindly. "We all hit that stage eventually—where work becomes routine, and rest feels foreign. But learning how to enjoy life outside of the uniform is just as important as wearing it."

Winter nodded, a faint smirk curling on her lips. "I suppose I have a dress to find, then."

"That you do," Ironwood said, returning the smirk. "Dismissed, Specialist."

With a crisp nod, Winter turned and exited the office, the soft hiss of the door sealing behind her.

As she walked down the corridor, her mind began to drift. It had been a long time since she'd worn anything remotely close to formal wear that wasn't military-issued. Most of her wardrobe was composed of uniforms and training gear. Even her casual wear leaned toward utilitarian.

Do I even own a dress anymore? she wondered.

Then her thoughts turned to Weiss. If anyone had something formal—and stylish—it would be her sister. Maybe she could ask Weiss if she already had a dress picked out for the dance. And if not... perhaps they could spend a day together shopping. It had been a long time since the two of them had done something like that. Something normal. Something sisterly.

Winter allowed herself a small, genuine smile at the idea. Maybe this assignment wouldn't be so bad after all.

Meanwhile, over in the cafeteria, Nora was happily munching away on a towering stack of pancakes, syrup dripping from the sides like a waterfall of sugary glory. Her feet swung beneath her chair as she cheerfully devoured her breakfast, and as usual, a peculiar question brewed in her ever-curious mind.

"So... if I ate Dust, what would happen?" Nora asked suddenly, voice muffled slightly by pancake. "Like—I know you're not supposed to eat it, but what if I did?"

Ren, seated beside her with a half-finished cup of tea, let out a long-suffering sigh, already sensing the direction this conversation was going. "Nora..."

Before he could continue, however, someone else unexpectedly chimed in.

"That would depend," Weiss said, not even looking up from her own tray of neatly arranged food. "Are we talking about raw Dust crystals that are still active with elemental energy, or inert Dust remnants after they've been used?"

Nora blinked, caught off guard. "Uhhh... let's say the active kind! Still sparky!"

Weiss glanced up, looking calmly serious. "Then you'd most likely burst into flames, explode from within due to pressure, or swell with enough water to rupture your organs... It would not be pleasant,"

Nora paused, blinking as she slowly chewed another bite. "Huh, okay, but what if I injected it instead? Like, boom—Dust in the bloodstream! Would I get superpowers or something?"

Jaune, mid-sip of his drink, nearly choked. "I don't think that's—"

"Actually..." Weiss cut in, placing her fork down delicately. "You kind of would,"

The entire table seemed to freeze.

"Wait, seriously?" both Nora and Yang asked at the same time, leaning in with matching grins of intrigue.

Weiss nodded slowly. "Yes, years ago, in Atlas, there were classified experiments—official and unofficial—conducted by certain branches of the military and scientific community," Weiss told them. "The idea was to test how raw Dust affected the human body if directly introduced into the system,"

Nora's eyes sparkled with curiosity, her fork hovering midair as she leaned forward. "Ooo! What happened!?" she asked excitedly, her voice nearly bouncing with energy.

Weiss took a breath, her expression sobering as she sifted through her memory. "Well... from what I recall, the researchers discovered that yes, it was possible for someone—especially a trained Huntsman or Huntress—to survive being injected with Dust," Weiss began. "In some cases, the Dust inside them could be used for practical things: staying warm in cold climates, keeping cool in high heat, even enhancing their reflexes or temporarily boosting physical strength,"

The whole table leaned in slightly, captivated.

"However..." Weiss continued, "The benefits were always short-term, and the long-term effects were... devastating,"

Nora tilted her head, eyes wide. "What exactly happened to them?"

"The more Dust that was introduced into their bodies, the more their health began to rapidly decline, the Dust didn't harmonize with the body—it corrupted it, the worst cases involved Huntsmen who had been injected with high concentrations of Dust... those individuals only lived for a few months afterward, and they suffered from DDP," Weiss replied.

Ruby furrowed her brow. "DDP?"

Weiss nodded. "Dead Dust Poisoning, it's a rare but incredibly dangerous condition," She told her partner. "When a Dust crystal dies—or loses its elemental charge—it leaves behind unstable residue, if that residue somehow ends up inside the body, it acts like a toxin, it attacks organs, nerves, even Aura pathways, the infection spreads quickly, and because Dust naturally resists being broken down by organic processes, the body begins to shut down slowly and painfully,"

Pyrrha looked thoughtful, a hand resting against her chin. "I'd read that DDP could be treated—flushed from the system with time and effort, is that incorrect?"

Weiss nodded her head. "Under normal circumstances, DDP is manageable, most cases involve people exposed to trace amounts—like miners or transporters who accidentally inhale particles or get cut with it," Weiss explained. "But the subjects in these experiments were injected with liquid Dust, far more than a body could naturally purge, their systems were overwhelmed, even the best treatments couldn't help them,"

There was a moment of silence at the table as everyone let that information sink in.

Then Jaune turned slowly to Nora, fixing her with a firm, deadpan stare. "I don't care if injecting Dust gives you laser vision, makes you bulletproof, or lets you breathe fire... Don't. Even. Think about it,"

Nora blinked innocently, then gave him a big smile. "No promises!"

"Nora—"

"I'm kidding, Jauney," she said with a giggle. "Probably..."

Jaune groaned and dropped his head onto the table with a thud.

Weiss, clearly still engrossed in recounting the grim details of the experiment, continued speaking, her voice taking on a more clinical tone. "In more extreme cases, some of the Huntsmen subjects didn't even make it past their first Dust activation, the energy was simply too volatile, a few of them literally froze from the inside out, their internal organs crystallizing within seconds, others... well, they combusted, burst into flames on the spot due to the instability of the Dust reacting violently with their Aura," She paused, letting the severity of her words settle in. "It wasn't just painful—it was instantaneous, and that's not even mentioning the psychological strain, Constant headaches, loss of motor function... the human body was never meant to be a conduit for raw, unprocessed Dust,"

There was a heavy silence around the table.

Then, as if choreographed, Ren, Jaune, and Pyrrha all slowly turned their heads toward Nora with perfectly synchronized deadpan expressions. "You're never doing that, Nora," they said in unison, voices flat but absolutely firm.

Nora's eyes widened as she threw her arms up defensively, cheeks puffing out in an exaggerated pout. "I-I wasn't thinking about it!" she insisted, her voice climbing an octave.

Ren simply raised an eyebrow at her.

Jaune crossed his arms. "Nora, you literally asked what would happen if you ate Dust not five minutes ago!"

"And then asked about injecting it!" Pyrrha added with a look of concerned disbelief.

"Well, yeah, then, but that was before I knew people turned into crispy critters or frozen popsicles!" Nora whined.

Ruby snorted into her juice.

Yang chuckled, shaking her head. "You're lucky we love you, Nora,"

Nora huffed, slumping in her seat. "Ugh, fine! No eating, drinking, or injecting Dust! You guys are no fun..."

"We're fun," Jaune said, gesturing at the rest of the group. "We're just also alive, and we'd like to keep it that way,"

"Speak for yourself," Nora muttered dramatically, "I could've been lightning incarnate!"

"You would've been dead," Ren replied flatly.

Weiss, who had been quietly sipping her tea during the exchange, finally added, "Honestly, I'm more impressed that she didn't already try it,"

"...Thank you?" Nora said, though it sounded more like a question.

Weiss just sipped her tea again.

As the laughter and discussion at the table began to wind down, a familiar voice chimed in from behind them—polished, warm, and unmistakably composed.

"Good morning to you all," Winter said with a soft smile as she approached the group.

Heads turned toward her, and the atmosphere shifted slightly—still relaxed, but now tinged with a little more formality, out of respect for her presence.

Weiss immediately stood slightly straighter, her expression lighting up at the sight of her sister. "Good morning, Winter," she replied, her voice warm with affection.

Jaune gave a cheerful grin and lifted a hand in greeting. "Morning, Winter,"

"Morning, Bigger Weiss!" Nora chirped without missing a beat, syrup still dripping from her fork as she happily shoveled another bite of pancake into her mouth.

"Good morning, Miss Schnee," Ren said politely, giving her a respectful nod.

Pyrrha offered a gentle smile and a wave. "Good morning,"

"Morning, Winter!" Ruby echoed with excitement, practically bouncing in her seat as she waved energetically.

"'Sup," Yang said with a casual smirk and a nod.

Blake glanced up briefly from the book in her hands, offering a soft, "Morning," before quietly returning her gaze to the page.

Winter's smile lingered as she acknowledged each of them with a small nod, clearly appreciative of their warmth. Her eyes then settled on her younger sister.

"Weiss," she began, "Have you picked out a dress for the dance yet?"

Weiss blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Not yet," she admitted. "Why do you ask?"

Winter clasped her hands behind her back, her posture elegant but relaxed. "Well," she said with a light chuckle, "As of this morning, I've been officially assigned as a chaperone for the Vytal Dance, and… I realized I haven't selected a dress myself yet, most of my formalwear is either military or suited for events twice as dull,"

Weiss tilted her head, curious. "So…?"

"So," Winter continued, her expression hopeful, "I was wondering if you and your teammates—and anyone else interested—would like to accompany me to Vale later today, we could shop for dresses together, make a little outing of it,"

Weiss's eyes sparkled with excitement, her posture straightening as a genuine smile spread across her face. The chance to spend the day with her sister doing something so normal—so fun—was a rare treat. "I would love to!" she said, almost bouncing in her seat. Turning to her team and the others at the table, she clasped her hands together eagerly. "What about the rest of you? Would you like to come with us?"

Yang didn't hesitate for even a second. She grinned ear to ear, flipping her hair over her shoulder with dramatic flair. "Hell yeah! I've been meaning to find a dress for the dance that'll absolutely turn heads! I want jaws dropping the moment I walk in!"

"I'm in too!" Nora said with both hands raised like she was volunteering for an adventure. "I'm thinking sparkles, maybe something that makes me look like I just stepped out of an explosion of glitter!"

"I'd love to come," Pyrrha added with her usual grace, offering Weiss a warm smile. "It'll be nice to do something relaxing with all of you,"

Blake lowered her book just enough to peer at the group over the edge of the page. "I suppose I might as well," she said, a faint smirk playing at her lips. "I may not care much about the dance, but if I have to go, I'd at least like to look good doing it,"

All eyes then turned to Ruby, who was still chewing a bite of toast, looking increasingly cornered by the growing enthusiasm around her. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Fiiine… I'll come with, but I'm not wearing anything frilly, and that's non-negotiable!"

Winter smiled approvingly at the group, pleased to see the excitement building. "Excellent," she said with a nod. Then her eyes slowly shifted toward Jaune and Ren, her expression as composed as ever—though a subtle glint of mischief sparkled in her gaze. "Of course… we will need someone to help carry our bags,"

At that, Jaune's fork froze halfway to his mouth. His eyes widened in horror as he realized what was coming. "Oh no, nope, I see where this is going," he muttered. In one fluid motion, he stood up from the bench, intent on making a swift escape.

But Ren, without even looking, reached out and calmly grabbed the back of Jaune's collar, pulling him right back into his seat with the ease of someone used to this exact scenario.

"If I'm being dragged into this because of Nora," Ren said flatly, "then you're coming too, no escape,"

Jaune stared at him with pure betrayal. "Traitor!" he hissed.

Ren arched an eyebrow. "You say that like you had a chance,"

Everyone at the table laughed, and even Winter allowed herself a small, amused chuckle.

Winter gave the group one final nod, her expression composed yet touched with the faintest trace of amusement. "I'll go get ready," she said. "I'll be waiting for all of you down at the docks in an hour, don't be late,"

With that, she turned on her heel and exited the cafeteria with the same poise and purpose she brought to a battlefield, her long coat swaying behind her.

As the door shut behind her, the group returned to their food—but now there was an added buzz of excitement in the air, a growing anticipation about the day ahead. Weiss leaned closer to Ruby, already whispering ideas about colors and patterns. Yang and Nora had started tossing out increasingly ridiculous dress ideas—one involving fire motifs, the other covered in tiny lightning bolts. Pyrrha quietly chuckled at them, while Blake kept pretending she was reading, though a small smile had crept onto her face.

It was shaping up to be a truly memorable outing for the girls—full of fashion, laughter, and sisterly bonding.

As for the boys, though… well, they already looked like they were planning their escape routes.

Ren quietly ate his breakfast with the stoicism of someone resigned to his fate, already imagining the many shopping bags he would soon be carrying. Jaune, on the other hand, looked downright defeated, slumped forward in his seat as if he were preparing for battle.

"Maybe if I fake a leg injury, they'll leave me behind," he muttered.

"Not a chance," Ren said without even looking at him.

Today was going to be a fun day for the girls… and for Jaune and Ren, a long day of being glorified pack mules.

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After what felt like an eternity of shopping—but in reality had only been about thirty grueling minutes—Jaune and Ren found themselves utterly drained, both physically and mentally. The two boys were slumped in chairs at the food court of the bustling Vale shopping mall, surrounded by a mountain of colorful shopping bags filled with dresses, shoes, accessories, and at least one suspiciously glittery purse that Jaune was pretty sure wasn't part of the original plan.

They looked like soldiers resting after a long campaign.

"I was told it would be one dress," Jaune muttered, staring blankly ahead as he slowly munched on a chicken nugget. "One dress! I should've known better! I grew up with seven sisters! I should've known better!"

Ren, equally exhausted, gave a solemn nod as he took a bite from his meatball sub. "We were naïve," he said with the tone of someone who'd aged ten years in the past half-hour. "Foolish,"

There was a moment of silence between them, the kind shared by two men who'd seen too much.

Ren glanced over at Jaune's food. "How are those nuggets?" he asked, his tone casual but his expression deeply serious.

"Pretty good," Jaune replied, taking another slow bite. "How's the sub?"

"Delicious," Ren said, eyes locked onto the golden, crispy nuggets.

Without another word, they executed a perfectly synchronized food trade. Jaune slid his box of nuggets over while Ren passed the meatball sub like a peace offering between warriors. Ren popped a nugget into his mouth and gave a small, satisfied nod. Jaune bit into the sub and let out a quiet, appreciative hum.

"This," Jaune mumbled around the mouthful of marinara and meatball, "Might be the best part of today,"

"Easily," Ren agreed.

As they chewed in blissful silence, Jaune leaned back in his chair, glancing over the bags stacked at their feet like trophies from a war they hadn't volunteered to fight. Then, as he wiped a bit of sauce from his lip, he turned to Ren with a thoughtful look.

"So… who are you taking to the dance?" he asked casually, biting into the sub again.

"Nora," Ren replied instantly, not missing a beat.

Jaune rolled his eyes dramatically as he took another hefty bite of the sub. "Why don't you just ask her out already?" he mumbled around a mouthful of bread and marinara. "Stop dancing around it like you're allergic to feelings."

Across from him, Ren popped another chicken nugget into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and gave Jaune a sidelong glance. "Hello, pot? I'm kettle," he said dryly.

Jaune paused mid-chew, brow furrowing. He swallowed before raising an eyebrow. "Okay, what's that supposed to mean?"

Ren didn't miss a beat. "It means you should stop pretending you don't like Winter and just ask her to the dance,"

Jaune blinked in confusion. "What? I don't like Winter," he said quickly—too quickly. "And I'm definitely not asking her to the dance,"

Ren arched an eyebrow. "Right, you just spend all your free time with her, talk about her all the time, and when she walks into a room, you sit up straighter than a soldier at attention," Ren said. "Yeah, you don't like her,"

"I do not-" Jaune began to protest, only to stop mid-sentence. He pointed a finger at Ren. "You're exaggerating,"

Ren ignored the outburst, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's obvious," Ren said. "You like her, I'm honestly shocked you haven't started writing a song for her like you did for Weiss,"

Jaune groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "Please don't remind me about that stupid song, that was not my proudest moment! I'm just glad I trashed that thing before it saw daylight,"

"Shame," Ren said with a slight chuckle. "It was catchy, embarrassing? Absolutely, but catchy,"

Jaune shot him a look, but Ren waved it off and leaned back in his chair, his tone becoming a little more thoughtful. "Look, whether you want to admit it or not, it's clear something's going on," He said. "As for Winter, despite what you might think, I'm pretty sure she likes you back,"

Jaune scoffed at that. "Oh, really?" he said, wiping a bit of sauce from his lip. "If Weiss doesn't see anything in me, then what makes you think Winter would? What could she possibly like about me?"

"There's quite a bit to like, actually."

The voice—cool, calm, unmistakable—came from directly behind Jaune.

He nearly jumped out of his seat, his body stiffening like he'd been struck by lightning. Slowly, nervously, he turned his head to see Winter standing behind him, her arms folded and an amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Ren, ever the opportunist, smirked knowingly as he stood up from his seat and grabbed his drink. "Welp," he said casually, "I should probably head to the bathroom, be right back,"

Jaune shot him a betrayed look as Ren walked off, leaving the blond alone and defenseless.

Winter, with graceful ease, stepped around the table and took Ren's vacated seat. She didn't say anything at first, simply smoothing her coat as she sat and adjusted herself to face him. Her light blue eyes met Jaune's—direct, unreadable, and yet somehow… soft.

"So…" Jaune started, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "How much of that did you, uh… hear?"

Winter didn't hesitate. "I believe I caught the part where you told Ren you didn't want to take me to the dance because you don't like me, followed immediately by him calling you out for lying to yourself,"

Jaune winced. "Ah, so… most of it,"

She nodded slowly. "Mm-hm,"

There was a beat of silence before Winter took a quiet breath and leaned forward, her expression shifting from cool amusement to gentle sincerity.

"Jaune," she said plainly, her voice dropping just a little. "Do you like me?"

He froze. That question hit him harder than he expected.

His first instinct was to deny it, to retreat into his old fear of rejection. The memory of Weiss—how he'd tried and failed—rose uninvited in the back of his mind. He remembered how foolish he felt, how awkward, how embarrassed.

But this wasn't Weiss.

This was Winter—direct, composed, and somehow still vulnerable in the way she asked. She could've teased him, could've ignored it altogether. But instead, she sat down and asked him, face-to-face, without judgment.

Jaune looked at her and saw something in her eyes—not mockery, not pity, but curiosity… and maybe even hope.

And suddenly, the fear didn't seem so loud anymore.

"I… I do like you, Winter," Jaune admitted, his voice uncertain but honest. "I just didn't want to make things awkward between us, you know? I get it if you don't—"

"Will you go to the dance with me?" Winter interrupted, her tone calm but unmistakably forward.

Jaune blinked, completely caught off guard. His mouth hung slightly open as his brain worked to catch up with what he just heard. "...What?"

Winter let out a soft, almost playful chuckle, a sound that was rare but sincere. "I asked if you would go to the dance with me," she repeated, her posture relaxed, her expression open.

Jaune stared at her, trying to process the moment. Winter Schnee, the same woman he'd spent weeks admiring from afar, who held herself with so much poise and strength it was hard to imagine her being anything but untouchable, had just asked him to the dance.

"I… I don't even know what to say," Jaune muttered.

"You could start with 'yes,'" Winter teased lightly, her eyes glinting with amusement before softening again. "Jaune… I like you too, I wouldn't say I'm in love yet, not quite, but I feel different when I'm around you, lighter, like I can breathe more freely, even with all the responsibility I carry, and that… Doesn't happen often for me."

Jaune's lips curled into a slow, genuine smile. "I guess I feel something kinda like that too, you're steady… grounded, you help keep me in the moment when my head starts spinning, I've needed that more than I realized,"

Winter's smile deepened, touched with something vulnerable—something warm. "Then, Jaune Arc… will you go to the dance with me?" she asked again, quieter this time, but somehow more meaningful.

Jaune met her gaze and nodded, a soft laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah... Yeah, I'd love to,"

Their smiles lingered as they sat there, the noise of the mall fading into the background for just a moment. For someone like Winter, trained to hold herself back, and someone like Jaune, so used to chasing the impossible, this moment felt almost unreal.

But it was theirs.

With her date to the dance officially secured, Winter caught sight of Ren returning from the restroom. She gracefully rose from her seat, offering it back to him. But before walking away, she turned to Jaune one last time, flashed him a soft smile, and gave a playful wink.

Jaune practically forgot how to breathe.

As Winter made her way back to the others, he slumped in his seat, dazed and giddy.

Ren raised a brow as he sat down again, noticing the goofy grin on his friend's face. "You good?"

"Nope," Jaune replied, eyes still wide, "But in the best way,"

Winter, meanwhile, rejoined the girls, who had wandered into a quaint little shop nearby that sold accessories, stationery, and cute trinkets. It was bright, pastel-colored, and filled with the quiet hum of other shoppers. As they browsed, the group began to splinter off again—Nora and Pyrrha decided to check out the food court, Ruby darted off to look at a tech store across the way, and Yang dragged Blake toward a boutique that apparently had "killer shoes."

That left the Schnee sisters alone.

As Weiss stood peering into a glass case of delicate bracelets, Winter leaned casually beside her, her voice light as she spoke. "So… are you taking anyone to the dance?"

Weiss smiled to herself. "I am, actually, his name is Neptune, he's from Haven—charming, funny, a little awkward," she said with a fond giggle. "He's already warned me that he has two left feet when it comes to dancing,"

Winter chuckled. "He sounds... endearing, I'll have to meet him at the dance,"

"Please don't scare him off," Weiss said with a teasing look.

"I make no promises," Winter replied with a smirk. Then, after a pause, she added, "I've got a date to the dance, too,"

Weiss turned slightly. "Oh?"

"I'm taking Jaune,"

Weiss gave a knowing smile. "Oh, I know,"

Winter blinked. "You… know? Wait, how do you know?"

Weiss glanced at her sister with a knowing smirk, arms loosely crossed as she leaned against the display case. "While you and Jaune were off having your little heart-to-heart, Ren came back and told Nora, and well…" she rolled her eyes with a light chuckle, "You know how fast Nora spreads news,"

Winter raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "So the others know?"

"Pretty much all of them," Weiss said with a shrug. "At first, I was… a little skeptical, old habits, I suppose, I've had my share of frustrations with Jaune in the past—especially during our early days at Beacon," Her expression softened as she turned to face her sister more directly. "But I've seen how much he's grown, and I've been trying to be more supportive, more of a real friend to him,"

Winter gave her an approving look, but Weiss wasn't finished.

"So no," she continued, "I don't have a problem with you asking him to the dance, honestly? I'm glad, I just hope he remembers to be a gentleman,"

A sly smile tugged at Winter's lips. "Oh, I have no doubt about that," she said, the confidence in her voice unmistakable.

Weiss nodded, but her gaze lingered thoughtfully on her sister before she asked the next question—softly, but with sincerity. "Do you love him?"

Winter's expression didn't falter, but the smirk faded into something gentler, more introspective. She shook her head slowly. "I don't think I'd call it love… not yet, anyway," she said. "But what I feel for him—it's close. There's something there, something strong enough to explore." She glanced down briefly, then back at Weiss. "I suppose that's the point of dating, isn't it? To see if something more can grow from it,"

Weiss raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning. "Oh? Dating now, are we?"

Winter rolled her eyes good-naturedly but smiled. "Well, I didn't ask him to the dance just to exchange pleasantries across the punch table,"

Weiss chuckled at that. "Fair enough, just remember to warn him, if he hurts you, he'll have an overprotective younger sister to deal with,"

Winter gave a soft, appreciative laugh. "I'll keep that in mind,"

Weiss smiled as she looked back at the bracelets in the display, her tone gentle. "As long as you're happy, Winter, that's what matters,"

Winter placed a hand on her sister's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. "Thank you, Weiss,"

There was a quiet warmth between the two of them in that moment—a rare pause of vulnerability shared between sisters who had spent so long holding themselves to impossible standards. For now, though, there was laughter, trust, and maybe—just maybe—the beginning of something more.