Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A week after Yang offers Blake her notes when she falls asleep in class after a long day, Blake sees her outside the dorm buildings, skating aimlessly— in circles. It's the first time she looks at Yang properly and without the squinted eyes and dazed confusion.

(Well, seeing her would be giving Blake too much credit. They both crash to the floor in a heap of limbs and Blake scrambles to her feet, apologies instant.)

“Sorry?” Yang chuckles, getting to her knees and dusting them off before lifting herself up. “I’m the one who crashed into you.”

Blake shakes her head. “I should’ve seen it coming.”

“Dude, no way. I should’ve seen you.”

Getting too distracted by a pretty girl for her sight to kick in, now that was a new one. Blake smiles, thinks back to all the times she’s seen her around campus; more than usual recently, doesn't know why. She thinks she’d notice someone so gorgeous.

“So…” Yang says, shifting her feet and looking nervous. “Can I get you coffee sometime? You know, as an apology.”

“You should probably go to the nurse,” Blake counters, shoving her hands in her hoodie pockets. “You might have a concussion. What’s your name?”

Her face drops. “You don’t know my name?”

Blake can understand the offense; Yang did help her out that day when she was too out of it to pay attention. Not like she had needed it anyway, but she appreciated the fact that someone cared enough to do a simple thing like taking notes for her. Blake smiles, sticks out her foot to kick her gently. “I know your name. I want to know if you know your name.”

She might have seen her talking with Weiss after class and asked for her name and maybe had stalked her social media. Just a little bit.

Yang laughs, lifts her hand to scratch at her neck absentmindedly. “Yang. Xiao Long. Yang Xiao Long.”

Blake snorts at the slight slur in her voice. “I’d still go to the nurse.”

She smiles, not wanting the conversation to end yet because she seems nice— (and definitely not because she’s so attractive that Blake thinks she might actually die) but also having duties to attend to. She distinctly remembers her mother's earlier request for help, an urgent one at that, and she side steps before Yang puts an arm out to stop her.

“You’re Blake, right?” she asks. Blake raises an eyebrow, apparently Yang had done her homework too. Getting someone’s name in college is harder than school, she figured out early. No attendance or obligations, just questions and connections. She takes an easy guess and figures it’s Weiss again.

She’s happy with that thought. “Blake Belladonna.”

Yang extends an arm, leather jacket rising on her arm slightly. “Nice to officially meet you.”

Blake rolls her eyes playfully, humors her and takes it. She ignores the warmth and sturdiness of her hand, focuses on not squeezing so tightly or her palms getting sweaty. She isn’t strong, not by a long shot, but she doesn’t want to seem too excited.

“Pretty,” Yang nods, lets go of her hand and steps on the skateboard, scurrying away before Blake manages to get a word in.

-

One month into university and she's starting to crack, and it's not even because she got powers.

Blake’s known Yang for a month now, knows her dorm room like the back of her hand, knows her sister who lives with her, is familiar with all her weaknesses and strengths in studies— but that’s where the line ends. That’s all they’ve been— study buddies, some call them friends— (Yang sure talks to her like they’ve known each other for years.) Blake doesn’t mind their relationship, but there’s a nagging part of her deep inside that actually wants to get to know Yang. Know her personally as well as she does academically.

There’s a party. There are a lot of parties. They’re in college and it’s only routine. Blake lives biking distance away from campus and Yang’s in the dorms so they often end up seeing each other during the most random times. Weiss is friends with both of them and always ends up greeting her with Yang on her heels like a lost puppy.

It’s... endearing. Interesting. Addicting. This constant back and forth and absolutely confusing dynamic they have. Blake isn’t sure where they stand, if Yang wants to be friends, close friends, not know her at all. She's all she spends time with, anyway.

She has a wild streak boiling beneath her light exterior, and she's honest, clever, entertaining. Yang is taken aback by Blake's sarcasm, her razor-sharp jabs, and her clever remarks. Blake laughs at that; no one really knows this side of her, either, wonders why Yang is the only one to bring it out. .

It's the day before the death, before her descent into determination and madness. She's studying with her like she normally does on Sundays.

"H two O two," Yang says again, slower, louder. They're sitting on the couch in Yang and Ruby's dorm room, her sister tucked into her bed playing a video game and occasionally telling them to lower their voices.

Blake laughs loudly. "Oh, I'm stupid. I thought you were saying H two O too, like also. Not like hydrogen peroxide."

Yang rolls her eyes. "Titration, Belladonna. Focus."

-

Funerals are cold, even on the sunniest of days. No downpour or umbrellas to signify the darkness of it all. Just the pure emotions in the wind. The funeral was sweet sorrow, for in those moments of raw pain there is nothing to ease the grief. Blake didn’t know Sienna as much as parents, but the everlasting pain was still present.

It was still her aunt, the woman who taught her numerous things and watched over her during her worst times. Even though she hasn’t seen her in a while, it all comes rushing back and Blake tries to swallow down the fresh tears. Grief comes in waves, and the first ones can feel overwhelming and overpowering. They appear at the most unexpected times, replacing a sense of normalcy with well-known anguish.

The first signs of mourning were a low, sombre tune that sounded like a lullaby and warned of the coming time of recovery and the need to take things one step at a time. Blake pats her father on the back, tries to shove her needs further back.

There’s a gathering after her house today, many of her father’s friends are going to be there to offer their condolences and have dinner. Blake hates funerals, hates everything that comes after them. It’s just straight sadness for months after, until the next person is taken and the previous forgotten. She watches with glazed eyes as the coffin is lowered into the ground; her mother’s staying strong for the both of them, she knows that- can easily tell by her stiff posture and tight face.

Blake is trying to be comforting, whispering words into her dad’s ear she hopes are reassuring. She’s never been an optimist, even during her time with a vicious gang that won almost every fight. There’s a consistent voice in her head that tells her nothing will be better after this, that it’s all gone downhill until the day she dies and no one will ever recover. She knows it’s the distress talking- she always does, but it never helps her feel better.

The priest says a few words, mostly unintelligible to Blake since her mind is going a million miles per hour. She looks around the cemetery, sees a few of her relatives, people she doesn’t know and…

Her heart stops. Of fucking course. Blake had searched everyone’s faces the second the service started- spotted distant family friends and others she didn’t recognize- asked her mom- turns out they’re Sienna’s own friends and family; but this particular face hadn’t been there then. Blake keeps staring at her, fists clenching and eyes narrowing.

What was Ilia doing here?

She’s wearing a black dress, freckles glinting in the night and matching black heels making her taller than a few of the people standing next to her. She must have been staring long enough because Ilia shivers and starts looking around. They lock eyes and Blake musters the deadliest stare she can manage. Her old friend flinches and her eyes dart away as quickly as possible, staring at the ground. Blake growls silently, turns back to the service and makes a mental note to confront her the second this was over.

Just more shit added onto her family’s plate. Blake will make sure she bothers no one here.

“Blake,” Ilia greets simply. Blake grits her teeth, grabs her by the arm— gently, Blake will never be cruel to the people she loves. “Wait-”

She drags her away from where everyone’s paying respects and talking in hushed whispers, rounding a small corner and crossing her arms. Ilia purses her lips and stares down.

“What are you doing here?” Blake tries to whisper, but her voice crosses boundaries on its own accord.

Ilia sighs and looks back up. She doesn’t make eye contact, choosing to stare at a loose thread on Blake’s blazer. “You know Sienna was like a mother to us-”

Blake scoffs, interrupts her just as quickly. “You couldn’t visit the next day? You can’t be here. What if someone sees you?”

Blake surveys their surroundings on instinct, she was born into violence, into constantly checking every corner of every room. Every noise is a warning, every sight a caution and every injury a lesson.

“I can camouflage,” Ilia says. “I just… miss her. I’m sorry.”

Blake softens, guilt worming its way into her heart. Even though she hasn’t seen her in a long time, she’s been friends with Ilia for as long as she can remember, knows her telltales— when she’s lying, upset, truthful. Ilia isn’t trying to deceive her, arms rubbing at goosebumps shakily.

“It’s okay,” Blake sighs. “Just… be careful.”

She moves aside, tries to be nice about it,  but Ilia grabs her arm abruptly before she can go anywhere.  

“Wait,” she whispers lowly. “How did she die?”

Blake raises her eyebrows, confused. She assumed everyone in the Fang knew— heard it was a big and hectic day for them. “Car crash. It’s been confirmed.”

Ilia blinks, once— twice, lets her go and drops her arm. Shaking her head as if to clear it, she lets out a surprised sigh of relief. Blake raises her eyebrows expectantly.

“Right,” Ilia says. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

She leaves without a word and something inside Blake’s stomach clenches and twists. 

Yang

hi! u havent been to class in two days n i havent seen u on campus in a week so i took notes for u. Hope ur ok :)

Blake smiles. The gesture is so small, so cute. She types back a swift response, dismissing any problems. She doesn’t want to burden her new acquaintance and study-buddy with everything going on. Blake has to deal with this alone.

The following day, Blake is already in the midst of an emotional hurricane. She tries to appear lighthearted and optimistic to her parents, but she can feel her core being cut by the gusts. Blake no longer panics as much when sorrow and worry grab her by the tongue and cause her mouth to dry up. Knowing that she has experienced it before and understands how it feels lessens the fear of the incoming pain. Since some of the terror still remains, she redirects herself rather than allowing it to overwhelm her.

Something Ilia said yesterday had been bugging her. Why did she ask about the cause of death? She figures everyone who knew Sienna is aware about the accident and her words yesterday cause it to ring true; but Ilia still needed confirmation and that, to Blake, was odd.

She can’t do anything about it; she promised her parents she’d never go back to that lifestyle- but her aunt was the gang’s last saving grace and that part was worrisome. Who knows what chaos would happen next? She’s in her room, back against the bed and hands clasped over her chest- thinking, pondering. She has ideas of what she can do to get answers, on confronting the members and old friends without them recognizing her, but the effort is too high for something to turn out to be inconsequential and just pure paranoia.

She can interrogate one of them, see who was going to take charge next, ask about how they’re handling their leader’s death- where they were going from here. The only problem; they know her, and Blake swore to herself and her parents she’d stay away from that way of life ever since she finally escaped it.

She doesn’t want to go back, but the voice in her head is nagging her to get some answers and with her newfound abilities, it would be much easier to do so. Blake sighs and sits up, rubbing her forehead in agitation. She turns her phone on, no new messages from anyone, feet itching to get up and do something useful. She got the week off from college for the funeral but Blake needs something to distract herself.

For a split second, she thinks of calling Yang and asking her to come over but stops herself as she pulls open the contact she’s gotten so used to clicking. Yang’s never been to her house, it’s always Blake going to her dorm to study or heading to a library to hang and talk— mostly about assignments. She’s not hiding anything, per se, but Yang hasn’t asked and Blake hasn’t offered.

(It’s partially because she’s terrified of what that would entail. She hasn’t had any friend come over her whole life.)

Blake shuts her phone off and finally stands up, stretching languidly and groaning as her joints pop. Staying in bed all day is doing nothing good to her posture and mental health so she decides to try and experiment. She strolls over to the drawer hidden under her pile of clothes, fishes around for the handle before opening it and spotting what she needs.

Web fluid. It’s time she tries something out.

Blake hasn’t used her abilities since the day she got them, which would be two weeks ago. Using them makes it real, that she had turned superhuman and she was not ready to confront that then. It had been a struggle of trying to ignore the superstrength, the stickiness of touching anything, the fact that she can hear every little noise and sense anything that was about to happen. It hadn’t been too bad, save for the few explosions from the glass bottles she held and the refusal to grab anyone close to her.

Blake isn’t fatalistic, not by a long shot, but something had happened to her for a reason. A radioactive spider— (she still shivers thinking about it) had bitten her for a reason. It’s time she uses it for good rather than hide away forever. Regret is a snowglobe- shake it up, look at it from every angle, and then let it settle on a shelf to gather dust.

She takes out the chemicals she had… borrowed from the chemistry lab and lays them out in front of her. Her first attempt had failed, she didn't want to talk about the second, and she had pretty much given up after that. Salicylic acid, toluene, methanol, carbon tetrachloride, potassium carbonate, and ethyl acetate. 

Third time’s the charm.

She opens all the windows, has a fire extinguisher ready just in case things go south. Mixing chemicals together always goes wrong somehow even when extensive research is done— which Blake definitely did. The precaution is due to obvious reasons, sure, but absolutely because Blake had forgotten to shield herself before and definitely burnt her hands. Her powers apparently heal her fast so she barely managed a few minutes of ice before the pain started to ebb.

She knows it's crazy to even think about doing this. What were the chances of webs being strong enough to stick to buildings? Of Blake not popping a shoulder with every swing? Of someone not locking her up if they figured out she can stick to things?

She's done the math, envisioned how it would look and feel if she did this and only found a few errors. She gave up after a while because there was no reason for her to want to do this. But now she has one, and she wants to try it out before giving up again. Gloves on, mask on, goggles over her eyes. She puts on music loud enough to obscure any sounds or explosions. She hopes fire isn't a weakness— if she has any. Her mom's in the house, dad out for work, hopes she doesn't die under their noses and leaves them with guilt from something as stupid as a spider-induced experiment. 

"Here goes nothing," she says aloud, mostly to calm her nerves and get on with it already. She's been stalling for five minutes, too afraid to try anything in case it doesn't work because she has zero clue of what to do next. She'd tried previous formulas and the results gave her knowledge of what to try differently, the reactants of this one feeling like there's no other options.

Blake pours them into a beaker, waits a minute before using a buret to pour in the last two. It sizzles, boils, and Blake watches on as they mix into each other. The smell is odd but not too bad, something of adhesive which is exactly what she wanted and something akin to the rain.

It's only been a few minutes when it stops sizzling, and Blake waits a few more to go up and touch it. Immediately, she shivers, it's like running her hand through a spiderweb, like a bunch of strings tangled in between her fingers. She pulls it out of the beaker and watches in fascination as all of them stay attached and stick to the tips of each other. Blake stretches the other side with all her might— (which is a lot now), but it doesn't budge.

She laughs, and laughs, pumps her fist out and sighs in relief. Now there's a nice saving grace in the darkest of days, something finally going right in her life. She smiles again, unable to help it as she cleans up after herself and turns down the music.

It was time for a trip to the store to grab a lot more where that came from.

-

Blake talks to her childhood friends Coco and Velvet and they immediately agree to help her pick out a pattern and scheme. Coco asks for her favorite colors and Velvet goes on to explain how blending specific hues is going to look.

She picks two random colors, just to see how it would turn out. Blake can't have them knowing before she's even started. Coco's sewing and Blake's standing over her with her hands on her hips. "What's this for, anyway?"

Velvet clicks her tongue from where she's standing to the side, cloth tucked underneath her arm as she rummages through a pile. "That's none of our business."

There's no customers in their store, thankfully. No one to hear or potentially see anything. She doesn't know who all the members are, after all. Blake taps her feet impatiently.

"I'm just curious," Coco sighs, putting her hands up for a moment before she continues working. "Halloween costume?"

Blake had been zoned out, but she nods, lifts the cloth into the air and admires the colors in the lights. Pink with white lines, blending together almost perfectly. She'll cut the holes in the face, to make it less suspicious.

(And change the colors, but they don't have to know that.)

"Something like that," she says.

Blake had picked up many hobbies during her time with the gang, during her time with recovery and with no one but her mind to keep her occupied. She's horrible at all of them, oh, sure, but at least it has helped with the passage of time.

(This? Sewing? No chance.)

She had borrowed the machine from Velvet who advised her not to tell Coco, which she had zipped her lips and visibly thrown the keys away at. She spends hours at home watching videos and researching how to make clothes, deciding the design should be simple and eloquent and similar to how the girls had shown her, but not entirely the same. (She didn't want them knowing so easily and second, it's because she'd feel bad wearing their designs and not advertising it outwardly.)

Her favorite colors? Purple and black.

Her tongue pokes out in concentration as she sews the lines into the cloth, nimble and shaking fingers making their best attempt to keep still. Blake had never had idle hands— hates keeping them still for longer than a minute, so this was a new obstacle.

And perhaps needed to challenge herself a little more. She's going into uncharted territory here and familiarity won't help her achieve anything. The constant clicking of the machine is at least soothing and doesn't get on her nerves; she had also been nervous of her parents getting annoyed or worse, suspicious, but her mother took one look at the room before glancing at the machine and smiling.

It's good to see you're picking up new hobbies , she had nodded. And, what a joke that was. She almost felt bad as her mother drifted away with a grin on her forever worriedly etched face.

(Although. Hm. Maybe taking up knitting as a hobby wouldn't be too bad; the reverberating clicks and consistent rhythm was almost too comforting.)

Blake completes the first line, perfect and straight before lifting the to-be mask to the ceiling and getting a better look in front of the light. The purple hue sticks out from the pure black, but almost enough so it blends in if seen from a dark environment.

She likes it. Blake continues with a gradual smile. Her phone buzzes with unanswered texts. 

-

Yang is pretty observant. She'd be lying if she said she didn't pay attention to everyone's signs, their ticks and routines. It's inadvertent, she's learnt over the years, she learns things about people and memorializes them so easily.

So, when Blake comes to classes late and sleepy all the time, she can't help but worry . They're friends , sure, but Blake's been over so many times to study and she still knows little to nothing about her. There had been a little knowledge gained from their impromptu one-on-one time. Blake preferred tea over coffee. Although she might not laugh as hard or as visibly as some people, she enjoyed a good joke, and Yang could tell when she was laughing. In a half-smile, her lips would flutter upward to the left. 

All she knows is this: Blake skipped one week at college and came back a mess . Hair messed up, eyebags evident and participation nonexistent. Yang asked her about it and Blake had just said that her relative passed away. This sort of limbo has happened before, the day after Blake visited her at work, but it hadn't been this bad. She was distant for a bit, but she came back to her place for studying just a few days later.

This was… unusual.

They don't know much about each other personally…well, she's an open book, really, but Blake hasn't asked to read it yet. Yang had asked around, wondered who her friends were, what her story was, why she's suddenly attending Beacon after not being here the previous two years, but she got nothing. Weiss knows her through Blake's apparent temporary visit at Atlas a long time ago— that's how they met, but that's it.

Yang doesn't want it to be like this forever, but she'll take it slow. She shows up at parties when Weiss tells her she invited Blake; smiling as she rolls her eyes at the constant questions and curious glances Yang throws her way.

"What are you doing here all alone?" she asks the first time; it's two weeks into the semester, one week into officially meeting her in class and three days from bumping into her while skating.

"Enjoying the fresh air," she says.

"Not here with anyone?" she asks, rolling a joint between her fingertips. She offers it to Blake, who denies politely with a wave of her hand.

"No," she mumbles. "I like being alone."

Yang blinks. She expects it, that's the thing. She's tried searching Blake up everywhere and had found nothing. The mystery makes her all the more alluring. 

"I hate this place," Yang confesses. "Horrible for parties. Barely any space."

Blake snorts, leans against the railing and stares down. She doesn't look at her. "Why are you here, then?"

Because you're here, she wants to say. I want to get to know you.

"I don't know," she lies, shrugs. "I'm just bored."

Blake turns to look at her with a frown, maybe confusion, maybe the squinted eyes are to indicate that she was going to be able to spot the fib. Nothing happens, and Blake turns back.

"Why are you talking to me?" she asks, when the alcohol's seeped into her system and Yang finds her again an hour later.

"You're interesting," Yang says, finds herself telling the truth. "Everyone here is boring. Everyone has their own thing, their own persona. I've figured them all out."

"Except me," Blake smiles, humorless.

"Except you," Yang nods.

Let's start studying together, Blake will tell her a few hours later when they're piling out and Yang's ready to hit the road.

Chemistry? Yang will ask, foolishly. It's the only class they share.

Blake will laugh, and Yang will decide that it's already her favorite sound in the world.

"You okay?" she asks, nudging Blake with her elbow. She's asleep again and the professor’s glaring is getting increasingly annoying. She looks up and finds Yang's eyes.

"I'm just tired," she mutters, laying her head back down.

Yang frowns.

-

She corners one guy and easily traps him into an alleyway corner. He has his hands up in surrender before she even does anything; she figures the mask is a little bit terrifying. 

"Are you with the White Fang?" she cuts to the chase, lowering the pitch of her voice and trying to play with her vocal chords.

He shakes his head frantically. "No! Swear to gods."

Blake sighs and lets him go, watches as he scurries away; maybe to report her, maybe to get as far away from the person who can stick to roofs as possible. She jumps and attaches herself to the brick wall and starts climbing along the building. (She still can't believe she can do this.)

Once she's up, she scans the ground; no one in sight was suspicious other than him, wandering alone in the dark with his hands in his pockets. She pulls the mask up to take a deep breath and calm herself. Getting worked up over seven wrong assumptions isn't a good thing for her already preoccupied mind.

And then she sees it. A figure running alongside a more narrow alleyway on the opposite side of the area she was above. Blake drops down— (she had learned that the impact of falling doesn't hurt her as much as it should a normal person) and starts running towards them. But, there's a problem; it is taking way too long. She should think about coming up with some sort of transportation device. 

(It's what she created the web fluid for. She just needs a contraption that would work.)

When she finally makes it there, Blake skids to a stop and hides behind a pushed out wall, peeking her head in to find the figure rummaging through a garbage can. Blake squints to see harder, finds nothing important in their hands, deciding to just go for it. 

"Hey," she says roughly, coming out of the shadows and watching as the figure jumps and turns to her. "What are you doing?"

"Who are you?" she asks, one hand over her heart. "What are you wearing?"

"Doesn't matter," Blake says. "What were you searching for?"

"Nothing," she grumbles. "Mind your business and get out of here."

"Oh," Blake lets out a surprised laugh. "So, you don't mind if I search through, right?"

She tenses, shoving her hand into her jacket. "Don't."

Blake approaches slowly; the girl takes a step back warily. "Or what?"

Blake's head pounds . It's like a shock to her spine, a tendril wrapping around her body and jerking her to the right. She hears a reverberating boom a second later and her body moves on its own accord, sensing danger and making her drop into a roll.

When it's over and Blake turns to her, wondering what the fuck just happened, she sees a gun aiming where Blake was just standing, smoke coming out of its barrel and evaporating in the air. She puts two in two together and gasps shakily.

"How?" the girl says, frozen to her spot. Blake tries to swallow and finds herself unable to speak, shaken up so badly she forgets how to work her feet; so close to death. How'd she move so fast?

"Don't make me ask again," she growls, tries to straighten her back and hover menacingly like she hadn't been quivering like a leaf a few seconds prior.

She shoots again and this time Blake anticipates it; the beat to the side of her head is still present, telling her exactly when the bullet is exiting its container. Blake flips and moves towards her with lighting speed, kicking the gun out of her hand and shoving her to the floor. 

The girl stays still, perhaps surprised, terrified, all of the above. She picks up the gun and inspects it, making sure to turn the safety off. (The only good thing she learned from them.)

"So?" Blake turns back to her after checking for any engraving on the handle. (There had been nothing.)

"No," she says with a stutter, hands braced on either side of her and elbows in place. "I was going to rob someone. A former colleague."

Blake freezes. She's way out of her depth here.

"I'm going to call the cops," she says slowly. "And you're going to wait right here."

"If I don't?" she manages. Blake gives her praise for the amount of nerve; lifts the gun towards her until the girl gets the idea.

Blake goes home that day unaccomplished. But maybe she learned she could do something else. Be something else. Saving a life… maybe she could save more.

-

The next day, Yang waits in the lab for three hours.

"You're late again," she observes upon Blake's sudden entrance. Yang's already in the white lab coat with goggles resting on her head, looking as eloquent and put together as ever.

"Sorry," she rushes in, hair in tangles and eyes drooping. "I was busy."

Yang hums. "Aren't you always?"

But there's a heat to it.

"I'm sorry," Blake says again. Yang just smiles and gets on with the experiment, explaining what she had missed. Blake had made contraptions and named them gambol shroud yesterday night— or, today in the morning. It was three am and she couldn't sleep, hoping the little things would do her bidding. She fits them around her wrists and grins, sneaking a look at Yang before looking back down at the web fluid she was secretly making.

"Remember that time you visited my work?" Yang asks out of the blue. They had been working in relative silence so far. She feels bad for making her wait again.

"Yeah," Blake purses her lips. "Total accident, by the way."

"Uh, huh," Yang doesn't look at her, concentrates on her current mixture. She picks up a pipette. "Where'd you go after I left?"

She pauses. Blake had hoped Yang would forget that whole day, her appearance, her absence the days after, but her own life had entirely changed since that moment. Maybe she should've given Yang more credit.

It’s happening again, and Blake does not want to tell her parents.

She’s healed, completely and utterly. Time has passed, wounds mended and sanity no longer receded and questioned. Blake knows that self honesty is the key to learning how to become a better human, a better resident of the universe; and she’s being honest. She hasn’t thought of her past in forever, memories deep and buried.

Childhood trauma, a counselor once told her, your brain represses the bad memories.

So here's what Blake learns. Her ex, Adam, was still out there. Sun tells her a lot of his more heinous crimes were committed as a minor so he had gotten out unscathed and on good behavior after a small felony he was connected to. Apparently threatening someone can only get you so much jail time and his other major crimes weren’t directly linked to him.

She found out about his freedom from former friend Ilia, who’s still in the gang they were all in and sends her updates about Adam. They have shared hatred for his ways, but Ilia refuses to see what was so clearly in front of her. Blind hope in a false wish to be a hero to people. A cult that does nothing but hurt the people around them.

And here’s the thing: Adam doesn't have one good bone in his body, years of bruises under Blake's skin can attest to that, so she had asked Sienna— her aunt and previous ties to the White Fang for information. She led her to a man called Ozpin who works for the Schnee Dust Company, a major facility of some sort.

It's an early September morning, the eighteenth day of the month if she remembers correctly.

She has no strategy, plans on walking in completely blind and just winging it. It’s not her style, but she doesn’t know what else to do. He’s haunted every part of her brain for the past decade of knowing him and the voice in her head is back. The one that begs for her to finally make do on her promise of destroying the White Fang once and for all.

“Excuse me,” a voice cuts in the second she walks in the wrong room. “Can I help you?”

“Uh,” Blake fishes for an excuse, walks up to the receptionist who had called her out. “I'm here to see Dr. Ozpin.”

The employee’s face fades to recognition, goes back to typing on his computer. “Right. You'll find yourself to the left. You are here for the internship?”

Internship? She’s sure her face is puzzled and makes sure to put her, admittedly, horrible acting skills to use. She’ll take what the universe is giving her. “Yeah.”

“Then you'll find your badge to the left.”

Blake tries to search for the name most suitable to her looks, quickly figures out that it won’t matter and taking this long would make her look even worse. He stares at her, unamused. “Having trouble finding yourself?”

Blake snatches the first badge in front of her. “No. I got it.”

“Okay... Mrs. Jackson.” Blake supposes there are worse names. “Welcome to the Schnee Dust Company. Born from the mind of our founder, Nicholas Schnee.. the Dust Tower houses 108 floors of innovation. Our scientific minds are pushing the boundaries of physical, biomedical... and chemical technologies. The future lies within.”

Blake hears half of that sentence, mind too preoccupied with figuring out what the hell to do from here. If she wasn’t on a mission right now, she’d totally be geeking out over all the holograms. She already feels her ears flipping every way possible, the sounds of machinery sparking the curiosity deep within. Time and place.

A voice cuts in, and every bone in Blake’s body jerks towards it. “Welcome to the Dust Company. I'm Yang Xiao Long, a student at Beacon University and head intern to Dr. Ozpin. I'll be with you for the duration of your visit. Where I go, you go. That's the rule. Remember that…”

Yang trails off, immediately spots her the second she approaches, mouth agape. Blake tries to make herself seem small, subtly waves her arm for Yang to get on with it; and much to her appreciation, she does. “Just remember that and all will be fine.”

The group nods and Blake pushes her way to the middle. A middle-aged guy with glasses and a cane stands next to Yang and he smiles at everyone before gesturing around them widely. “Hello, everyone. I’m Dr. Ozpin, a scientist that specializes in biology. I want to understand the very fabric of every species, of the earth, of how it all works. Ideas of how one must do that?”

Oh, Blake has plenty to say, but she restrains herself. A few of them peep up, small books in each of their hands and making Blake seem more out of place than she already is. Their ideas are mostly inconsequential, boring and predictable. She takes two more before snapping, going on a brief tangent of her own.

Blake prefers chemistry, as it's her minor— but, still, she can’t deny her interest in biology either.

“Impressive,” Ozpin smiles. “And you are...?”

Yang cuts in, a sort of pride in her voice that has Blake blushing. “She's one of Beacon University's best and brightest.” 

Ozpin looks intrigued. “Really?”

Yang smiles sweetly. “She’s the second in her class.”

Blake’s head whips back towards her and… oh, there’s a hint of mischief. A curious gleam in her eye, a twinkle of ego. “Second? You sure?”

Yang smirks, nods slowly and looks back to the professor. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

Ozpin shakes his head, lifts his head and turns around as if he heard something. He grimaces. “I'm afraid duty calls. I'll leave you in the more-than-capable hands of Miss Xiao Long. Nice meeting you all. You can disperse for a bit, if you’d like. Check out the different-”

His voice trails off as Yang nods her head to the staircase. Blake groans at the inevitable confrontation. Well. She did go in without a plan. Blake waits for her to finish with her group and stomp in— paces around lightly and finger tapping her knee in anticipation. Yang finally makes an appearance, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. She looks cute in a white lab coat, Blake thinks idly.

“What are you doing here, ‘Jackson’?” Yang does air quotes, arms flapping to her sides in something akin to amusement.

Blake shifts. “What are you doing here?”

It feels stupid the second it comes out of her mouth. Yang snorts. “I work here.”

“I don't,” Blake admits, yielding almost immediately. Yang’s hard to lie to. “I was gonna say I work here... but it seems like you do work here. So you know that I don't.”

Yang purses her lips, leans close enough that her breath catches. “You following me?”

"No," Blake shakes her head, "I'm not following you. I had no idea you worked here.”

“Why else would you be here?” Yang asks. “I mean, first you offer to study with me and now you suddenly know where I work?”

There’s an insinuation there. Blake doesn’t know what, but she makes sure to dismiss it immediately. “I just snuck in because I love science.”

“You… love it?” Yang drawls. “That’s your excuse? You can do better, Belladonna.”

Blake shrugs, forlorn. She’s ready to be kicked out. “I'm passionate about it.”

“So you snuck in...?” Yang grumbles, sighs and looks behind in a quick scan, turning back and lowering her voice. “Look, I have to lead this tour group. I'll ask you more about this later. Do not get me in trouble.”

“I promise you I won't,” Blake reassures. “Think of it as payback for crashing into me.” 

Yang rolls her eyes, but a smile gives her away. “Stay with the group.”

Blake salutes which Yang shakes her head at and steps away from. Distractions aside, Blake absolutely does start sticking her nose everywhere…not literally, though; she doesn’t want to upset Yang and stray away too far from everyone. Yang, who says something about taking some of them to the other room and making Blake exhale in relief. She slowly starts walking backwards to distance herself from most of the students that start to disappear from sight.

It doesn’t take long for her to bump into someone with the rate she's escaping from, apologies spewing almost immediately. Blake bends down to pick up their stuff, pauses as she sees a folder sticking out from under a work envelope. She looks up and sees her victim, a man in a suit, as he reaches out and snatches his documents back. Blake tries to subtly peek at them from his hands, swears she sees a white label WF etched onto the paper messily. He growls and eyes for a second before turning around and patting his suit down, walking rather hurriedly to a door on the opposite side of the floor.

Now, Blake’s usually quiet and sneaky when she wants to be and she swore she’d never use it for harm ever again but where was the harm in following somebody? Especially if they gave off sketchy vibes. A split second decision to be made, a dangerous one at that, but Ozpin isn’t going anywhere and this was a sign from someone that she was here for a reason. Blake purses her lips and sighs, straightening her jacket before scratching at her nose and lowering her head, opting to give into her suspicions and start the investigation.

Okay, so. Blake may have underestimated how huge the facility is, and that’s all on her. She tails the man for what seems like hours, makes sure to keep a reasonable distance and stopping every once in a while so it wouldn’t be too obvious. Fortunately, he doesn’t look back once and Blake thanks every god out there for it. He reaches a corner, pauses briefly before swerving towards it and stopping. Blake hugs the wall, turns her head to the right and sees him at a door, hands hovering a hologram keypad of some sort. Blake squints, is able to see his finger movements easily in the dark thanks to being a faunus.

The door opens with a small click and a few people in white hazmat suits roll out, helmets missing but the gloves making it clear. They have a brief conversation, voices muffled due to the hushed murmurs and they head towards the other exit, making Blake blow out a puff of air in relief. She reads the sign next to the door as she cautiously approaches. Biocable development unit. 

She looks around, spots no one near her and copies the man’s movements on the keypad. The door creaks lightly and Blake pushes it open before side-stepping inside. She gets blinded almost immediately, the room so white she’s not sure she’ll ever see color again. Blake squints harder than she ever has, suddenly despising her ability to see brighter. The sound of machinery piques her interest and she walks to one pumping out metal containers with its robotic arm. She has no idea what it’s making and it’s probably for the best; she continues inspecting and making the occasional stops to similar contraptions.

What the hell is this place?

She has no time to marvel or poke around with anything, makes sure to do a clean sweep and search for anything of value. Documents, weapons, anything that looks out of place in what seems to be a busy area occupied by endless instruments. There's a blue light illuminating the end of this room and Blake gravitates towards it, grateful for anything that isn't pure brightness. 

Once she gets there she comes across a huge machine, moving in a circle with millions of tiny spiders hanging onto their webs around it. Insects are fine, in her opinion, but this causes a shiver to go up her spine instantly. They can't get to her, Blake tries reassuring herself; they seem to be trapped in this weird little experimental sphere. The webs dangle off slightly and Blake reaches over to touch one in mild curiosity.

…in her defense, it was merely a poke, but that was apparently enough for it to malfunction. The spiders start falling out almost immediately, gravitating to the floor with no webs to keep them up. A few of them end up in her hair, on her skin, clothes. Blake resists a shriek, patting them off— shoving— jumping around and trying to control her body’s natural instinct to shiver like a leaf at the sensations. She’s never been scared of insects, but spiders on her skin is a new low.

When she feels them off her skin, on the floor and scurrying away from her, she takes a deep breath, body still shaking and flinching at the feeling of them still on her. What's going on here was beyond her business and she does not want to be caught tampering with private property. Blake backs away from the machine, takes one last look at the place and decides she had walked in on something that definitely wasn’t anything she was looking for.

She presses her ears on the door, hears nothing and opens it before poking her head out. No one there, Blake sprints out.

She walks fast, very fast— so fast that people start staring at her and the heavy boots don’t help with her quickened pace. She makes her way back to the main lobby, finds Yang staring at her with an eyebrow perched. Blake resists the urge to shiver violently at her skin still prickling.

She approaches her sheepishly and Yang places a hand to her hip, still amused.

“I-” Blake stops there, doesn’t know what excuse to use, what line to say. 

Yang tilts her head. “Badge.”

Blake nods, acquiesces almost immediately. She deserves worse honestly.

Going back home is the most excruciating pain she’s ever been through, and that's saying a lot. There’s limps in her steps and the train back home is louder than usual; more annoying than usual. She yells at a few of the passengers in a forced outburst— she thinks she even cries during the ride.

Blake falls asleep and wakes up to sweat behind her neck accompanied with a pounding headache. Her forehead is drenched and her vision is so blurry she feels like she might collapse at the lack of road in front of her. Someone asks her whether she's okay and Blake comprehends the question vaguely and pushes past them. She thinks they crash to the floor. She's not sure.

"Hi, honey," Kali greets her upon entry and immediately turns to her, eyebrows scrunched in confusion and worry. "What happened?"

Everything is so loud. It's excruciating. Blake feels like collapsing.

"Hm?" she asks groggily, spotting the stairs and making a beeline for them. She needs her bed— and badly.

Kali puts a hand out. "Now, hold on," she feels her forehead and flinches back. "Baby, you're burning up."

"Uh oh," she blinks. "That's not good, right?"

Kali purses her lips and cups her cheeks, tilting her head to the side and giving her whole body a glance. She must not see anything out of the ordinary, other than Blake's disheveled hair and the amount of sweat she carries.

"Ghira!" she calls out, and Blake groans at the volume and pressure of her voice. It makes her ears ring. Has her mother always been this loud?

Her dad pokes his head through the kitchen, chocolate cake in hand and his big burly figure slackened and disinterested. "Is Blake home?"

"I think she caught something," Kali says, turning towards him and letting go of Blake. "She's sweaty and slurring."

He approaches her and grunts. "Are you okay, honey?"

Blake sways on her feet. Completely. She just needs a good night's sleep.

"Totally," she says normally. "I just feel dizzy."

He purses his lips and exchanges a glance with his wife, no doubt thinking the worst. Blake rolls her eyes. "Guys, I just need to-"

Sleep. Except a fly buzzes next to her ear and she growls so loud she's pretty sure the walls shake. She catches it in mid-air, halting all movement and conversation. She hasn't crushed it; it wriggles beneath her fingertips.

"That's a fly," Kali says slowly.

"I'm aware," Blake replies sluggishly, releases it and watches it frantically fly away. It had been so damn loud. Her feet stagger and she wobbles until her dad reaches out to steady her.

"You're staying home tomorrow," he decides. "Just go to sleep. Mom will make you tea."

Blake manages a response, sticks her hand out to wipe at her forehead absentmindedly. So much water. Where is it coming from? Her feet are off the ground and she registers Ghira's arms around her back and legs.

She's pretty sure that's where she doesn't remember the rest. Maybe she passes out.

The next day, Blake wakes up fine… until she gets up to brush her teeth while getting ready for her classes. The tube sprays all over her mirror with a simple squeeze, the faucet breaks when she goes to turn it on and the water spraying everywhere is so loud that Blake curls into a ball with her hands over her ears for a good minute.

Blake's able to hold her own in a fight, but in no way was she built enough to do something like this.

She turns the knob the other direction with her pinky and sighs in relief as the water stops. She looks around the waterlogged bathroom, grimacing at the pain that will come with drying it. Everything is still loud, but at least the headache has calmed down. She presses her ears against her head and hopes for the best.

It works, but her human ears are still ringing.

Opening the door to her room is confusing because the second she's through she gets jerked back by something. She looks around and finds her hand still attached to the doorknob; she tries to yank it free and realizes it's futile.

She finds the dead spider in her neck later when she wakes back up from the nap she takes— assuming the whole ordeal was a horrible nightmare, shivers violently and throws it away. The web had been inside of her. She searches every website she can get her hands on and finds no connections or information about radioactive spiders.

She stays home for the day, screams and cries into her pillow while trying to figure out what the fuck had happened to her.

"I- was just…" Blake clears her throat. "I was just looking around."

Yang sighs. "One day I'll uncover all your secrets."

She's torn between a mind your business and please do.

-

She's scared shitless, sure, but it's also kind of exhilarating. The second all her classes are over for the day, Blake reaches into her backpack to grab her mask and climbs up a building. (Just high enough to intimidate and not to kill. Blake doesn't trust her abilities fully yet.)

Gambol, her left web-shooter, looks like a watch if angled correctly and shroud, her right, simply looks out of place. They're both too thick to be bracelets so Blake was going to have to invest in long-sleeved outfits when she's using them.

Although, if saving people was something she wanted to do, maybe it's best to obscure her identity. It's what the mask is for, after all. At first, her goal was to find Fang members to figure out their next move and stop them from hurting people— but what's the use if she doesn't help others who are being attacked by similar vicious individuals?

Blake ponders. She's strong, can stick to things, apparently has perfect precision from bullets and if swinging works and helps her get to places faster than she'd practically be invincible.

She takes a deep breath; Blake had tested the shooters. They worked, oh they did, but she hasn't shot it out vast distances or seen if it could fully hold her weight. (If her math, or technically chemistry— is correct, then it would; but she's still horrified at the prospect of falling this high.)

She uses gambol first, presses her ring and middle finger to her palm and adds a bit of pressure. The contraption is built on her wrist with two pieces running to the base of her palm. Index and middle finger didn't work as well as the two others.

The web shoots out, and it goes far . The building in front of her was at least thirty feet away, yet the sticky substance catches onto it and sticks. Blake lets out a surprised breathless laugh. Now, the hard part, getting the courage to jump . (Will her back break, will it hold her, will this fall kill her, will-)

She imagines Sun's voice in her head when she had been stressing over what she should do when her group had been mugging an innocent. She thought she was helping; realized last second. That had been her breaking point.

I'm scared of leaving, she had confessed.

Just go for it. Sun, serious when he needs to be, says. Just go for it. You can do anything. Just go for it. It's Blake's whole problem, the thing that got her into it, the thing that sucked her back in, the hesitation, the cowardice. She makes a run-up and leaps. 

Immediately, the wind rushes to her ears. The mask blocks her cat ones, pressing them to her head at all times; comfortable, and thank gods for that— the extra sensitivity would kill her, but her human ears ring against the air as if trying to compete with her durability. Her shoulders don't pop, but jerk harshly as she falls below where she shot the web. Blake holds on tightly to the string and finds herself flying , in the air .

Blake's entire body is buzzing with adrenaline, she knows that when she lets out a manic cackle and shoots out shroud blindly. She hears it stick, doesn't know where, but she lets go of the string with her left hand and finds herself falling further and then swaying once again.

Well. This is actually fun.

-

"Another one bites the dust," Jaune says, getting up and setting the controller down gently. Unlike his opponent who just slams it before running to the kitchen for another snack.

"You're paying for one when it breaks," Yang calls playfully.

Nora huffs in between stretches to get to the top shelf. "You say that everytime and it never breaks."

Ren and Nora have the quietest dorm in the whole building, surprisingly. They're a bit cut off from them all so the noise doesn't reach and they practically made it their designated place to chill and do whatever.

She checks her phone again. It's a Sunday, no new messages.

Yang first sees Blake the day the semester starts — the beginning of September. She argues that Blake had just caught her eye on the way to their campus library. Yang might’ve been staring at someone who she thought was the most beautiful person she’s ever laid her eyes upon; and she also might have absolutely spilled her iced coffee all over her textbook when she saw her.

Yang doesn’t have time to clean up and introduce herself, so she makes a mental note of what the girl says to the librarian, tries to subtly sneak over and eavesdrop on the quiet conversation. Catches her name, face and tries to tuck it back to the integral part of her brain.

Yang doesn’t introduce herself to Blake that day, but it’s the first time she sees her. She officially meets her on a Friday, when they seemingly share a class together. Blake's apparently the smartest person in this room, provided helpfully by her best friend Weiss who was also Blake’s friend— or at least knows her.

"She's kind of a genius," Weiss had said, "you two would get along well."

It's kind of hard to focus in class when all she stares at is the mess of dark hair laying on the desk. They're not sitting close to each other but it's relatively a small class so they're not far apart either. Yang usually doesn’t pay attention since she already knows all the material by heart- (she was bored during the summer, okay? She might have looked up their course and absorbed as much of it as she could), but she makes sure to jot notes down. A few added from her own head, remarks and warnings of what not to do.

Weiss stares at her, unimpressed. She had been testing chemistry as her minor, but Yang doesn't think it will stick. Yang’s never really one to hide her emotions, at least not the positive ones so she shrugs at her, goes back to listening to the professor’s excited ramblings. First week of university is riveting to all but Blake, it seems. He notices her head on the desk, shakes his head in disbelief before going on like nothing happened. Yang really craved that dismissal in high school.

The class is over before she knows it and Yang all but jumps to get to a disheveled Blake who’s currently fixing her hair. Listen, she knows she hasn’t even met this girl but there’s something intriguing about the way she carries herself, the nonchalance she conveys. Yang’s into it.

Also the drop-dead beauty plays a factor too.

"Hi," Yang says, sitting next to her before she can get up. "You okay?"

"Hm?" Blake responds groggily, looks around and remembers where they are. "Oh, shit. Yeah, sorry."

"That's good," Yang drums her fingers on the table absentmindedly. "I took notes for you."

She places the ripped paper on Blake's closed laptop, figures it's better than anything Yang could've written on a digital notepad. Blake stares at it, blinks, and looks back up.

"Oh," she says, eyes wide and confusion clear. "Thanks?"

"You're welcome," Yang nods, moving to get up before Blake places a hand on her leg to stop her.

"Did you need anything?" she asks.

"What?" Yang shakes her head and lets the words sink in. "No, you just looked like you needed help."

…It's true, but it's not the full truth.

Blake relaxes, lets her hand fall and runs it through her hair. Yang finds herself frowning at the loss.

"Okay," she smiles. "Thanks again."

Yang laughs, gives her a wink and leaves.

yang

are you okay?

you haven't texted in a week :((

no pressure

The response isn't immediate; she's on her fifth game against Weiss who's still trying her best to beat everyone. (She's failing.)

blake: Hi! sorry, I've been really busy. I hope you were able to understand the material without me

yang: helloo! you're good I was just worried lol 

yang: of course I did but it would've been better with you here

blake: Hah, well! Good luck <3

Blake is a regular texter, a bit proper but friendly and something distinctly her . This… this is too automated, robotic and fake. Her mood is significantly decreased, but no one mentions anything. There's something going on and the secrecy drives her crazy. She gives in.

yang: coffee next wednesday? i have a few tests this week so i don't think I'll be able to give you a good time

blake: Sure! What for?

yang: casual hang out. we never do those

blake: I assumed…

blake: Nevermind. I'd love to.

yang: great. you coming next sunday?

blake: I'll check my schedule and get back to you.

There's a slight increase, but the balance is conserved. A text rings through again, but Yang's excitement fades when she realizes it's only her rugby team group chat reminding them of practice.

Yang pops a chip into her mouth and presses play again .

-

Blake uses the machine to make a suit, taking inspiration from photos online. Most of them are wrestlers, which Blake finds funny; wonders how they come up with such elaborate and cool costumes.

It's purple and black, completely matching her mask from the head all the way down to her shoulders, where it cuts off into pure black at her torso, and when Blake had angled them in the dark, it looked like the purple glowed for a second. She figured it's due to the contrast in colors.

-

"They call themselves Spider-Man. We know nothing of their identity."

Blake blinks. She had never given herself a name; wonders which one of the people she fought blabbered about it to the press.

-

"You shouldn't be here," a gruff cop growls.

Blake rolls her eyes. "You're welcome."

The bodies are dangling from her webs off the building and Blake gestures to them with an agitated huff. Too many with weapons ; Blake could evade them better than they could.

He reaches for something, either his radio or gun. Blake doesn't stick around long enough to find out.

-

Blake does come on Sunday, this time with a cheerier attitude than ever. Yang loves the smile on her face, the crinkle of her nose. 

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" she leans against the door as Blake stands in the hallway, arms crossed and expression wide.

"I am, indeed," she says. "You wanna let me in?"

"We don't have any chemistry assignments," Yang points out, opening the door and letting her in.

Blake grins. " You're the one who invited me."

There's a reason for that; Blake just doesn't know it yet. Maybe she doesn't, either.

-

She takes a deep breath in the mirror, packs heels and a nice outfit in her backpack. The window is wide open, wind blowing and making her shiver with nothing but a tank top under her suit. The mask hangs by her desk chair idly and Blake brushes her hair one last time. Wednesdays aren't really her favorite days; her classes usually extend to four and all she had time to do was take a shower before having to get ready.

She hasn't really cared about appearances in a long while but for some reason, she wants to impress Yang as much as she can.

Blake's noticed that doesn't really need time for getting ready anymore. Well, the getting ready part is all the same— depends on the occasion, she still dresses fancy when she needs to. If she needed to wear a dress or was in the mood for it, she'd make sure to pack her suit in a backpack, web-shooters played off as bracelets if she angled them right. 

Getting ready is still an issue, she's a young adult in college and deciding what to wear can still be nerve-wracking. Getting to her destination in time? Now, there's an upgrade.

Blake swings to the coffee shop near campus with five minutes left to the time she and Yang had set. She was worried whether she'd reach it on time but figured that Yang would probably be late anyway. Everyone always was, right? Testing out her time management with swinging today was the perfect opportunity to challenge herself. She never really cares about being late to places but she didn’t want to miss this one.

Blake lands on a nearby roof, an apartment building by the looks of it, which was beyond perfect. The area is empty which she’s thankful for and she makes sure to hide behind the architecture, quickly stuffing her mask in her backpack and pulling out the clothes she had picked up. Anxiety spikes in the worst time because what if they’re wrinkled or not nice enough?

This much nervousness makes her feel like she was on a date which— they haven’t established. She isn't sure that Yang asking her out for coffee is a date, perhaps she wanted to talk about something… but from the start there was a chemistry, a spark, and they talked for hours so easily. It was the first time she'd met someone who captivated her so completely, of whom she wanted to savor every detail.

The downward spiral had cost her two minutes- three left, Blake gets out of her own head and quickly jumps into her jeans, pulling the shirt over her suit with haste. She pats it down and decides that it would do, zips her backpack shut and heads to the roof door- hoping she won’t be sweaty from all the running she has to do to the ground floor. The building had looked tall although she lost perfect precision because of her perspective in the air, so she can’t trust her measurements anymore.

One minute to spare when she gets out and crosses the road to the cafe. She can text her parents that she’d made it there safely when she gets inside. Waiting five or ten minutes for Yang to come is a great opportunity to get her order in earlier. She pushes the door open and stops dead in her tracks when she spots blonde hair at the back. Yang seems to catch her at the same time, stands up and waves with a grin on her face.

Blake checks her watch, makes sure the time is right and hadn’t whizzed by during that minute walk. Six o’clock, right on time. She looks back up, finds Yang tilting her head and beckoning her over. Blake purses her lips and greets the barista politely before maneuvering through the tables to get to the one Yang had saved for them. The coffee shop of white cups and black coffee, of small jugs filled with cream, has that ambience of friendly chatter. When she reaches her destination, Yang stands up to welcome her with a smile and hug. Blake freezes for a split second before her arms reach up to mirror the foreign gesture instinctively.

“Hi,” Blake says into her shoulder, trying to hide her smile. “Sorry I’m late.”

"Late?" Yang pulls away, eyes squinted as she looks down at her phone and presses the screen once so the time flashes. “You’re right on time.”

That's… huh. Blake says. “But you were here before.”

Yang rolls her eyes. “I came here early just in case you would. Besides, I had to drop my sister off early and the trip back to the dorms would’ve been useless.”

Blake is… puzzled. No one who she’s ever had hangouts or dates with came early. It was either late by a few minutes or late by an hour. The fact that Yang was confused with the prospect causes warmth to bloom in her chest.

Is this how it feels to have someone who cares?

“Oh,” she gives a nervous laugh. “Okay.”

Yang snorts, turns to the chair opposite of the one she was sitting on and pulls it out, gesturing towards it with a wave of her hand. Blake smiles politely, stepping in as elegantly as she can manage and settling down. Yang pushes her in easily as if it was second nature and goes back to her own side. Blake isn’t used to being cared for in the simplest of ways; a nice action that Yang probably doesn’t think twice of is the only thing she’s going to remember when she goes out with someone else and they don’t share the same sentimentality.

“So,” Yang grins. “Green tea, right?”

Blake blinks dazily. “What?”

“Your order,” Yang leans her chin against her hand, elbow resting on the table. “It’s green tea, right? I already put it in but I can ask them to change it if you prefer something else.”

Blake’s mouth hangs open, shuts it almost and immediately and tries to pull herself together before speaking. “No, but…” it doesn’t work, “How’d you know?”

Yang looks shy all of a sudden. “I asked Weiss,” she adds hurriedly. “-and I hope that’s okay. I don't want to come off as creepy but I like memorizing my friends’ order just in case-”

Blake holds back a laugh, excitement bubbling up in her throat as she places a hand to Yang’s rested arm. “Yang. It’s sweet. You’re sweet.”

She flushes at the compliment, looking down at the table. "It's instinct by now."

"It's cute," Blake reassures. "What's yours?"

Yang shrugs. "Don't have one. I'm trying out every flavor before coming to a decision."

Blake resists the urge to snort. Yang would be the type to do that.

The silence is comforting and the feeling is oh so welcome to Blake. She’s not used to so much being said in the dead silence. It’s not uncomfortable with Yang— she never makes direct eye contact unless Blake initiates it. There’s something being said there— she doesn’t know what, but she appreciates it. They get their drinks midway through a conversation since the line had been held up.

When Yang takes a long sip, her eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, this one's good. I'm adding it to the A-list."

Blake chokes. "You have a list ?"

Yang pouts. "How else am I supposed to keep track?"

Blake giggles, the sound unrestrained and free. Yang is so… dorky, something she had never expected from someone of her build; an athlete, one who doesn't take shit from anyone and is smart in all academics; a popular girl who socializes carelessly and happily. Maybe that's what makes her run in the crowds, what makes her friendly and likable.

They make small talk, asking about each other’s days and how their families are— Yang coughs up a story about how she and Ruby tried baking a cake and almost set everything on fire and Blake laughs so hard she has to pull her lips away from the lid before her tea exploded all over. She reciprocates with her own boring day, how she had gone to her classes and went back home (leaving out the part about small Spider-Man intermissions.) Yang still listens intently, hand on her chin and head bobbing with every word Blake says. She doesn’t look like she’s faking it— not bored, not pretend, even though there's nothing riveting about the story.

"My mom was ecstatic that I was going out today," Blake confesses. "She wants to meet you."

Yang blanches. "Uh, oh."

Blake smiles apologetically. "She's tame, just curious. It's my dad you should worry about."

Eyes a shade of purple that Blake can only describe as magical, lips a crooked pink smile, and hair a sea of golden waves. Yang is just familiar. She's so familiar in the sense that Blake is comforted and safe by her presence.

Yang's laughing at a dumb joke she made, boisterous and loud. Blake's not familiar with anyone doing that with her, she's been told that she was too dark for humor, too broken to have a sense of hilarity. Yang's disproving everything that had been told to her in one day. Blake wants to hit herself for procrastinating a day with her; it's the happiest she's ever felt in a while.

"You told me you majored in engineering," Blake recalls from one of their sessions. "You never told me why."

Yang shrugs. "I like fixing things, I guess. Things that are broken or damaged. They need love too, don't they?"

Blake nods, swishing her cup back and forth. "Totally. We can't have them sad."

She watches her head hang back like a little kid, her throat bobbing and smile wide and contagious. Blake grins at the sight, decides she wants to spend the rest of her life making Yang laugh. A delicate arm reaches across the table to reach for tea at the exact same time Yang reaches for her own drink. The cafe is a hush and would be silent were it not for the steady consumption of the snacks and drinks.

"Absolutely not," Yang scrunches her nose. "What about you? Why humanities?"

"Why not?" Blake smiles, tilts her head. "I like analyzing things. Figuring out the world."

"Nerd," Yang says. Blake rolls her eyes, doesn't point out they both take chemistry for fun. Yang doesn't pull her hand away and Blake's heart continues to grow tenfold. She interlaces their fingers cheerfully and goes back to explaining her dilemma about what she should make for lunch tomorrow.

"Ruby wants take-out," she says, waving her other hand absentmindedly. "But I'm saving up for a guitar for her birthday."

Blake doesn't even hide her embarrassing affection anymore. She can't fool Yang. "That's nice."

"Yeah," the side of her lip curls up. "I would give her mine but it's pretty old and won't do wonders for a beginner."

Blake pauses. Everything she learns about Yang gets more attractive by the minute. "You play guitar?"

"Hell yeah," Yang pumps her fist out. "Apparently Ruby wants to impress some girl and she asked if I could teach her."

Blake laughs, thinks of making a joke and contemplates the consequences… she's being too open today for anything less. "Aren't you two just experts at wooing girls."

Yang seems surprised at the remark, blushes almost immediately and puts her hands to her head. Blake regrets it only because their hands had let go of each other, but the rosiness of Yang's cheeks make it worth everything.

Blake decides to give her salvation. "When's her birthday?"

Yang seems glad for the diversion in conversation. She hadn't been expecting to be called out so easily, Blake presumes. "October 31st."

"Halloween," Blake notes. "Are you guys throwing a party?"

Yang grins. "Every year, baby." Blake pretends her breath doesn't trip over itself. "It's tradition now. Costume party."

Blake nods, thinks of asking whether she’s invited or not before shaking the idea away immediately. She doesn’t know Ruby that well and asking for an invitation unprompted because she was friends with her sister seemed weird. Yang likes her so far, sure, but how long till she looks inside and leaves when she finds something she doesn't like?

Ah, and there goes her mood. Blake continues the last of her tea in silence; his voice comes back, as if it ever left, loud and angry; insulting and truthful.

Yang looks at her, tilts her head in something akin to confusion. “Hey,” she says after a few minutes of silence, nodding her head towards the exit. “Wanna get out of here?”

Blake pauses before checking the time and realizing that three hours had passed by. It felt like just a few minutes. “Oh,” she mutters, not wanting the day to end but respecting Yang’s boredom. “Yeah, sure.”

Yang smiles, stands up and extends a hand out. Blake blinks twice before following suit and linking their arms together. Something about the gesture feels intimate and this isn’t even the first time they’ve been this close. It was a great day, she tries to reason with her depleted happiness, but she probably ruined it near the end.

They make their way out and Blake’s about to come up with an excuse for leaving on her own before Yang speaks.

"How'd you get here?" she asks, pulling out her keys and dangling them in between her fingers. The jingle takes her out of the haze she had absentmindedly walked in. The feel of Yang’s muscles tightening around her own and the gentleness in the sea of purple had distracted her so much that she didn’t notice they'd stopped in front of a motorbike.

"Um," Blake replies stupidly, fishing for a thought. "Uber."

Yang frowns. "Aw, man. You should've asked me to pick you up instead."

“It’s okay,” she laughs at the slight pout on her face. “It barely cost anything.”

“Hope you’re not afraid of bikes,” Yang winks before swinging a leg over the seat and plopping down. Blake freezes; first because the implications of the sentence makes her do a double take and second, did Yang just wink at her?

“You don’t have to take me back,” Blake reassures, mostly because she doesn’t think she can be that close to Yang and act normal.

Yang rolls her eyes and pats the seat. “I’m not letting you waste another lien.”

Blake hasn’t used any lien today; Yang had paid for their drinks and her happiness. Blake tries to protest again but her feet have a mind of their own. She sits down gently, having a feel for the vehicle before finally wrapping her arms around Yang. She tries to mediate her breathing, can see half of Yang’s face from here; the way she smiles all wide and with no teeth. She can detail a nose crinkle and Blake really wishes she could capture the full thing. Yang revs up the engine and places her hands on the handles.

The vibration underneath distracts her momentarily. Blake exhales shakily. “Not even gonna ask my address?”

Yang furrows her eyebrows, turning to her with a baffled expression. “You wanna go home?”

“I thought you were taking me home.”

“If you want to,” Yang shrugs, wearing a forlorn expression. “I was hoping we could drive around for a bit.”

Her smile conveys compassion and friendliness. It was the easy laugh of a soul that could see through others' facades and recognize people for who they truly are. As if she were sunshine that only emanated from the greatest qualities of individuals she meets, their imperfections completely invisible to her gaze, she lives life the way she thinks people should. She embodies a tranquil sea, chirping birds, and fresh spring blooms. However, she was her friend beyond all else.

Her friend. Blake’s friend. Someone this charming and kind wants to continue to hang out with her.

“We're friends, right?” Blake blurts out, unable to keep it in any longer. She doesn’t know where Yang stands but Blake sure wants to chart the constellations in her eyes till morning comes.

Yang laughs as if Blake’s told some funny joke. “Uh, duh. Why have you been coming to my dorm every weekend?”

Blake looks down sheepishly, crossing her arms as if it’ll hide her flush. “To study.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Yang huffs playfully. “A study buddy?”

“No!” Blake’s quick to answer, as if she hasn’t figured out the answer only today. “Of course not. You’re the person I see the most besides my parents.”

And that's the wrong thing to reveal. It sounds sadder out loud.

Yang grimaces. “I need to take you out more.”

Or perhaps the right. Blake suppresses a shiver, shoves down a plea of yes, please .

“Yes, yes, I have no social life,” Blake grumbles in exaggerated annoyance, tries to feign confidence and clutches Yang’s waist again. “Where are you taking me?”

Yang looks down at the contact, eyes darting back up before she flashes a grin and slips aviator sunglasses on. “You’ll see.”

Blake’s never been afraid of motorcycles and now it was almost laughable compared to swinging from building to building in mid-air. The breeze against her bare arms is child’s play compared to the wind hitting from all the way up there. The only difference is Yang’s body against hers and that somehow makes her feel like she's floating again.

“Is this the part where you reveal you’re going to kill me and hide the body?” Blake yells out through the roaring wind. Yang makes sure to laugh loudly and shake her head, an amused grin forming on her face. Blake allows herself to stare as long as she wants until Yang decides to look into the rearview mirror and catch her eyes. Blake doesn’t feel embarrassed, just smiles back. Maybe the lack of shame is a good thing; Blake wouldn't really know.

They come to a stop eventually, much to her dismay. She was enjoying the excuse of wrapping her arms around Yang; luckily, Yang doesn’t move to get off immediately. Blake traces her hands against her abdomen lightly, trying to memorize each curve and crevice before the inevitable disconnection. 

"This is my favorite spot in Vale," Yang says, taking Blake's hand and helping her up. Emerald forest, she recognizes. "I used to go here all the time."

"Alone?" Blake asks, surveying her surroundings. There's a forest line, no path in sight, just trees and grass mixed with different hues that come with the Autumn season.

Yang shrugs. "Didn't really have anyone I like as much as you."

Before Blake can properly process the words, Yang smiles and drags her into the woods. She navigates the maze easily, nothing but messes of green and orange in Blake's peripheral. She trusts Yang, which should scare her. It had scared her when they first met and she felt a rise in the steady thump of her heart, but it doesn't anymore.

Yang is the embodiment of good. She'd never do anything bad in her life- (and Blake's usually perceptive with reading people. Usually.)

"You're not helping the murdering me and hiding my body case," Blake jokes, tries to implicate the joke with the way she lets out a soft giggle. Yang snorts, grips her hand a little tighter and maneuvers a few more branches and twigs. The path clears, opens up to a clean patch of light green grass, a steady river flowing right beside it. It looked like any other garden, but for it to be hidden so deep inside an everyday forest made it prettier. Like it was only there to be found by certain people.

The certain person was Yang, who'd wanted Blake to see it too.

"So?" Yang prompts, hand leaving her own and coming up to her waist.

—and, look, Blake doesn't mean to be a cliche, but she looks at Yang instead of the patch. "It's beautiful."

"It wasn't before," Yang explains, staring wistfully at the flow before turning to her with a gleam of pride. "Used to be much dirtier and filled with debris but I've been cleaning it over the years."

They are hidden in their own private world of vivid green grass, waves of soft purple, soothing yellow, warm red, peaceful white, and a rainbow of pastel colors sprinkling the area by the forest, which is a few steps behind them and off to the right. The river, which is a stunning shade of blue, is to the left, and along its coastline are a few trees that stand out from the rest of the forest. A tranquil silver color is painted across the landscape by the full, dazzling silver moon overhead, as stars twinkle faintly in the night sky.

Blake smiles. "That's cute," Yang, the personification of optimism and joy, setting up a quiet place to hang out all alone. "What do you do here?"

Yang takes her hand again— so casually like it's made to fit with her own, and walks to the edge. Blake follows instinctively.

"Think. Study. Just breathe. I started it when I needed to get away from home for a bit. Of course, the place is gonna get worse when it starts raining. The only bad thing about the season."

"Get away from home?" Blake asks, watches as Yang looks into the distance and shakes her head subtly.

"Long story," she says, and Blake won't pry. 

They sit in silence, shoulders brushing, Yang pointing out the occasional cloud, legs swinging over the edge and barely dipping into the water. Blake thinks of removing her boots but she doesn't want the risk of showing her suit underneath. She thinks about how glad she is that the chilly weather is going to get progressively colder and she won't have to worry about sweating through two layers.

"You know," Yang will say after a few minutes. "You're really pretty."

Blake will freeze, realizing her head was halfway into leaning against Yang's shoulder. The comment isn't new, but coming from Yang makes it seem more real than ever.

"Thanks…uh, you too."

Yang laughs. "I know, babe."

The pet name rolls off her tongue sweetly. She's heard Yang talk like that to people at parties, so she isn't hung up on it. (Absolutely not.)

"Oh, wow, okay. Who told you that?"

"You, just now. So I know it's true."

Blake rolls her eyes, proceeding to lay against Yang's shoulder and hitting her in the stomach lightly. She laughs again and Blake stares at her jawline from this angle, sharp enough to stab a hole through her heart if needed.

"It is true," she says, softer than expected. Yang looks down and smiles. Blake goes home skipping that day, all giddy and smiles.

-

There's a thrill when it comes to fighting. Blake isn't a violent person under any circumstances, but there's always something so satisfying about giving people what they deserve. She's there to defend, not attack, fight back without murderous intent.

It's what makes her opponents so terrifying— the fact that they don't share the same sentiment. There are numerous ways to become a hero; perhaps if Blake had other skills, she would save lives at a desk or in a hospital; she could possibly build homes or prepare meals; instead she was bitten by a spider. She was meant to be a protector- preventing the world from destroying itself. Because she strives to complete each task with pristine precision and escape unharmed, she is the master of her new craft.

Well, new is putting it lightly. Blake had been going by her alias and fighting crime in a mask for almost a month now. Barely twenty days of something she’d practically gotten down on day one. Okay, that’s also a lie . The first day was a lot of confusion and panic and mental breakdowns, but the rest were fine! She had adapted, grown with every fight and improved with every parry. The only hard part of this whole gig? The secrecy.

The excuses she gives her parents are not believable. Most of the time, she says she's with Yang— who Ghira huffs at and asks once again if they could meet her. Other times, she says she's at the new job she picked up (also a lie) and she doesn't know what to say when they eventually come to visit.

Fighting isn't new to her, but it's the first time it feels like a choice rather than an obligation. She also can’t help but taunt enemies sometimes, something so stupid but so fun. It might be unprofessional but hey, Blake’s twenty-one and she had missed out on a decent childhood and harmless jabs. Playing with the pitch of her voice, coming up with meaningful insults and funny comebacks, it makes the job all the more fun. 

Plus, it makes her more likable to everyone. She had read a few articles about herself already, some fans, a bunch of haters and a lot of the general public calling her hilarious.

i cant breathe, she once read on a paper that had featured a tweet about her, there was a gang fight near me (im safe btw) and spiderman literally saved us all until the cops got here and started shooting at them and while running away they were screaming I JUST DID EIGHTY PERCENT OF YOUR JOB!!

Well… she wasn't wrong. The cops had no authority to shoot her and most of them actually just leave her alone, but others can't help themselves. They see someone doing a better job than them and they pull out the you're not authorized to knock criminals out card to justify it.

“The sign says hiring from during the morning,” she says sweetly and watches as the men in black masks’ heads whip towards her. They’re carrying bags with no weapons in sight; an easy one for her today. “So if you’re that eager to be here I think you should come back later.”

One of them scoffs, turns to their buddy. “It’s just Spider-Man. I’ll take care of them.”

It’s scarily entertaining to think they have a chance against her. She watches with mild amusement as he approaches from where she’s hanging upside down from the roof. It's pitch black, time around one in the morning and there was no sound outside except for the occasional wind blowing and rustling trees. She had been swinging aimlessly as she always does, eyes and ears trained for anything and everything.

Midnight is the time where most crimes are committed— (Blake would know), and she's nervous at the prospect of stopping her first robbery. She's dealt with people who've had guns, but it's always in public and with cops in sight for backup. This one, no weapons in sight, but the closed space and minimal escape routes makes her bite her tongue.

Was Blake already equipped enough for this? Was this legal ? Definitely not. Surely not. Does Blake care? Now that's the part she should be scared of. Not of-

"Hey, spider boy," the man taunts. "You've been getting pretty popular around here. So, what are you? A little experiment? You a test subject for the Dust Company?"

She's gotten so famous people are starting to wonder . No faunus ability can do what she does, so a lot of people wonder if she's human or a faunus, ears so flat they don't show at all. Whether she's a girl or a guy or neither; a feminine voice, a name like Spider-Man , people use gender neutral terms on her; she prefers it that way.

Blake should've expected this. 

She sighs boredly. "Can we skip the evil monologue and go straight to the fighting? It's my favorite part."

To her surprise, and mild amusement, he laughs loudly. That's all the warning she gets before he throws a punch out… or so he thinks. Blake's senses activate immediately, the fist approaching the side of her face in slow motion. Her… spider senses, insect senses, faunus senses—no surely not, no faunus sense is this good, aura – it'll work, is weird but unique. It informs her of incoming danger, makes her dodge instinctively before she even registers the attack with her own eyes and ears.

She doesn't know how it works yet, how she sees the world in slow motion and real time simultaneously– doesn't even know where to begin for digestion; but, whatever. It's great and it works. Blake's head moves and his punch connects with the wall, his howl echoing off the empty area. She swivels her body around against the web and swings her leg out to kick him further into the wall; it cracks upon the collision. He crumples.

Blake drops and turns around, finding the rest staring at her with wide eyes. She makes a show of inspecting her nails even though there's a suit, but the point gets across.

One of them, a guy with clear blond hair poking through his own mask— ski mask? very inconspicuous, stalks towards her with what she assumes to be a deadly glare. She gets into a fighting stance which makes him pause halfway over.

He turns his head to his buddies, making sure his body is still angled towards her. "Are you four gonna help me?"

Two of them are huddled very far into the opposite side of the room, nearly smothering each other. Blake tries to hide her snort but, their fear is kind of amusing. Why steal when one small threat can paralyze them? At least the first one had been brave.

"Well?" she taps her foot against the ground. "Are you gonna help him or do I have to take you out one by one?"

That gets them moving. The only exit is through her and none of them were smart enough to have their friends take watch outside. There's five in front of her and the main one motions them to surround her. Blake watches the attempted hidden movements with a dull stare.

When they're all around her, she sighs deeply and reaches within. Spider senses— no , she had dubbed them as her aura, come out and rest beneath her skin. Gambol shroud burns her wrists, aching to be used. Her blood simmers with excitement and anticipation. Blake is starting to like a good fight, especially when saving people in need. The store didn't look as developed and stable.

Blake grins. "So?"

A pounding drumbeat behind her head and Blake ducks and moves her body to the side in a half roll. Another beat at her right and she moves left. There's three at the same time, loud and blaring; Blake jumps and sticks to the roof before locking her eyes onto one of them and tackling their body to the ground.

Out like a light. Right. She's strong now.

Her first mistake is staring at the body a little too long; was he dead , unconscious, in need of a hospital. The tackle hadn't been that hard but she doesn't know her full strength yet. A siren to her right and Blake forgets how to dodge, hand connecting with her face and sending her to the floor.

It catches her off guard. Nothing more and nothing less. She growls and flips onto her feet, jumping over him and decking him in the face. One of them is yelling at the other and she quickly shoots gambol to the air until it sticks to a roof, jumping and holding onto the string with her other hand, taking a moment to breathe and survey her surroundings.

Three on the floor, three to go. They're looking up at her with rigid and tenses forms, pants emitting with every breath.

"What are you?" one of them squeaks.

"I dunno. A spider, I think," she says, "I thought the outfit and name would've given it away," and then he's on the floor and Blake's staring at the last two tiredly.

"Look," one of them says, their hands up in surrender. "Just leave us alone and we won't fight you."

"You're gonna have to do better than that," Blake shrugs. "Why were you stealing?"

"We need the money," one of them explains desperately. "I swear, we mean no harm. We didn't even bring guns."

Blake hums, walks around them and inspects them warily. They're unharmed, so far, they're the ones that had strayed away from the rest and looked frightened despite their concealed faces.

"Take off your masks," she says. "Then I know you're genuine."

They hesitate until Blake aims gambol and shroud at each of them respectively, exhales heavily to let them know that she wasn't playing around. They didn't know exactly what the webs did, but Blake does. A shot to the direct face would blind them for a few seconds and make things much easier for her.

"Okay," the guy on the left speaks for the first time, his voice high. "Just calm down."

He reaches up and swoops the mask off, urging his friend to follow. Once their faces are clear as day, Blake breathes a sigh of relief; she doesn't recognize them.

But they're not in the clear yet.

"Are you in the White Fang?" she cuts to the chase, lowering her arms.

"That crazy gang?" the guy on the right asks with disgust. "No way, dude. We're just trying to feed our families."

Blake sighs. "There's better ways to do that than robbing a store."

They grumble, but don't protest as she pulls out her burner phone and calls the cops, watching as she drags their friends next to each other and webs each of their bodies to the floor. She turns to them next and they visibly shiver.

"Will it hurt?" the younger one asks, eyeing it with exhausted brown eyes.

Blake laughs at the easy acceptance. "No, it'll be very hard to get out of though. Y'know, unless you have knives."

They share a look and Blake nods, extending her hand out to grab at one of their arms. She webs it to a nearby desk and takes the other one's with less aggression and does the same to the opposite side. She hopes he escapes this lifestyle.

"This was a fun one, guys," she salutes before stepping out for fresh air and listening for the nearby sirens. Probably bad if they find her here. She doesn't want to evade bullets today. Blake shoots shroud out and swings. 

-

Halloween ends up being on a Monday, classes scheduled differently for each person and exhaustion overtaking the first day of the week. Weiss doesn't have any that day but most of Ruby's guest-list do, which she dutifully complains to Yang about.

"I have a test today!" she moans loudly. "A test !"

Yang tries not to snicker at the exaggerated devastation. "I'm sorry, Rubes."

She groans at the lack of a potential solution, like maybe Yang would indulge her and suggest skipping classes today. She'd never do it without encouragement; Ruby hates being out of the loop more than anything and missing any lessons counted as that. Yang jots an answer down with her pen; doing assignments right before her classes is a new occurrence. Usually Blake is there to entertain and motivate her but she had been busy this weekend and Yang didn't have any will to do chemistry without her.

Ruby had called her dramatic and Yang waved her arm in indifference.

She feels a heavy plop next to the bed and she smiles before looking up and spotting Ruby staring at her with a frown. Yang rolls her eyes fondly, knowing exactly what her sister wants— needs, as she would put it. She throws her book aside and opens her arms and Ruby crawls into them, laying halfway on her lap like she always does. 

"Think about it like this," Yang reasons. "It’s only worth five percent so it won’t matter. You’ll have a killer party with your friends and favorite sister after.”

Ruby grumbles, leans in to take a look at her notebook. “This one’s wrong.”

Yang looks down at her pointed finger, finds an answer she had absentmindedly scribbled while thinking about a certain someone. "Oops."

Ruby giggles, open and knowing. Yang smiles back.

They stay like that for a while, Yang writing anything that comes to mind the second she sees a question— (she doesn't care enough to correctly identify anything) and Ruby correcting the mistakes. There aren't many, even disinterested Yang is still smart, but she mainly does it because of her inability to focus.

"What's up with you?" Ruby asks, erasing an entry and writing her own; one that looks more correct. Yang looks up and cranes her neck, finds Ruby at her chest with a smirk.

"Oh, hush," Yang grumbles, closing the book.

"You're in loooove," Ruby sing-songs.

"Uh," Yang's quick to interrupt. "No, I'm not."

"Why is she always in our room?" Ruby asks, hands resting on her hips in playful arrogance.

"We help each other," Yang argues. "Study-buddies. Friends."

"But you knew who I was talking about," she points out. Yang opens her mouth to argue but is cut off by the door knocking. Before they can fully register the sound, Weiss comes barging in.

"I can't believe her," she grumbles, throwing herself across the bed, legs splaying out and touching Ruby's hip. It's not a new occurrence; Weiss has a habit of coming in announced.

"Hey," Yang calls. "Shoes off the bed."

Weiss listens before letting out another groan. " Help me."

Ruby snorts at the sight, shoving herself off Yang and higher onto the bed to lay next to Weiss. "Can't believe who?"

"My professor," she replies, hands to her forehead. "She said I can't retake my exam."

Ruby wrinkles her nose. "What? Why?"

Weiss makes air quotations, voice higher than usual as if to imitate. "'I should've been informed beforehand', I'm sorry that my sister got into an accident and I wasn't a psychic."

Yang purses her lips. "Ugh, I'm sorry."

Weiss sighs. "No, no, it's alright. I just needed to let it out. It's not worth much."

"Our door is always open," Ruby says cheerfully. "Or you'll slam it open!"

Weiss laughs just as Yang stretches out her legs languidly, smiling instinctively at the sound. When they first met, Weiss was uptight and cruel, all emotions curled up and ready to combust at any second. The arguments were constant— their rooms are right next to each other and she'd always have something to say about how disruptive they are. The insufferable feud grew with time and when she finally broke down their door, sobbing, Ruby and Yang had gathered her into their arms until everything came out; and they learned it all.

They've never been closer. Weiss had given Yang a job at her family's factory, something about hiring new faces and getting rid of the bigoted ones who do nothing productive but put money in her father's pockets.

Destroying the evil from the inside, Ruby had pat Weiss on the back.

Kill em with kindness, Yang had agreed.

And Ruby had apparently fallen in love, which made Yang's older sister job a lot harder. 

The job isn't perfect, but it brings a steady income and she enjoys it. Tai had told them that Yang didn't need to work, that he'd send them the money, but a part of her is still set in her old ways. Depending on no one but herself to take care of Ruby, of her own well-being. He means well, but guilt and instinct tend to drown everything else out.

Ruby and Weiss go on to talk about something else when she gets a text, voices lulling as she pulls her phone out and opens it.

blake: Hi! was wondering if i was still invited today :p

yang: emoticons :o who are you and what have you done with blake

blake: You're such a cliche.

yang: you love it :)

blake: Hmm

blake: Who told you that?

yang: you will

yang: today

yang: when you come

yang: you are coming, right?

blake: No, I just texted you to let you know I canceled.

yang: oh man who am I supposed to stare at all night?

blake: Shit, you're right. I forgot you were obsessed with me

yang: liar 

yang: i know you're thinking about me too

yang: why else would u text me?

blake: How were the chem assignments?

yang: deflecting i see… it was boring

blake: That's not what you say when I'm there.

yang: congrats did you finally figure out that the only reason i ask you over is to see you and not to study?

blake: No, I realized that when we both knew all the material already and were just using it as an excuse to talk.

yang: we're so hopeless… so no more study dates?

blake: Dates?

yang: shit. I meant like studying only

blake: like studying only

yang: goodbye

blake: No wait I'm sorry

blake: Yang 

blake: yaaang 

Yang shuts her phone off, deciding to make her wait a few minutes before giving her an answer; serves her right.

"Look at her," Ruby says, and Yang is jolted back into reality. She looks at the girls on her bed, finds them staring at her with shit-eating grins.

"Oh, wow," Weiss laughs. "You weren't kidding."

"What are you two blabbering about?" Yang asks.

"How in love you are," Weiss says. "It's sickening."

"In love?" Yang squeaks, shaking her head. "Absolutely not."

Ruby snickers. "I haven't seen you this dopey-eyed since Pyrrha." Yang is taken back to how flustered she used to get around her friend, how flushed she was whenever she touched her.

"Everyone had a crush on Pyrrha," Yang argues, realizes how it sounds out loud. Weiss nods thoughtfully. 

"Eeexactly," Ruby drawls. "And as far as I'm concerned, Blake only hangs out with you."

Weiss sits up. "Seriously?"

Ruby follows. "Mm. She admitted it on a date with Yang. It's really cute."

"It was not a date," Yang denies, although the entire day did feel like one. "And would you stop spilling everything I tell you?"

Ruby throws her hands up in surrender. "It's just Weiss! I need to tell someone about you two idiots."

"You're being dramatic again," Yang says. "She probably doesn't want that."

Weiss sighs. "Yikes."

"Oh, don't you start," Yang grumbles. "How's dating that certain someone going for you?"

Weiss stands up almost immediately. "And I'm out."

She narrowly avoids a pillow Yang throws her way, dodging with grace and slipping out the door. Ruby laughs, processes the words, then looks shell-shocked.

"Who?" she gasps, eyes shining with distress. Yang shakes her head, and they call her hopeless. Look, she's obvious, she knows that— hopes it doesn't show to the person it matters most to. Her phone dings again.

blake: According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. the bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black.Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little.

yang: man what the hell

blake: Hey you're back

yang: you're so desperate. see u tonight

blake: I'll look my best

yang: ur always the best

blake: <3

-

Yang waits by the door and greets every person, and that's not even the pathetic part. She's a great host, sure, but she's never gone out of her way to shake everyone's hand or hug the people she's closest to right at the entrance. No, the sad part is the disappointment in her face when each turn doesn't show the one she wants to see the most.

"You look like a kicked puppy," Nora points out with a wink, folkicking to her side as she nods generously at a newcomer.

Yang scoffs, turns to her with crossed arms. "Do not."

"That's not the Halloween spirit," she says, gesturing to her own smile and outfit. She's dressed as a knight, her boyfriend Ren running around in princess attire— and he owned it beautifully. Yang had laughed for a minute straight.

"I'm making sure Ruby's day is perfect," she sighs despondently, craning her neck at yet another new guest. No one in sight yet.

Nora follows her line of direction, looks back at her with a loud laugh. "Are you searching for that girl? What was her name?"

Yang feigns indifference at the prospect of being called out again . "What girl?"

"Dude," Nora grins.

"Who told?" 

"Ruby," Nora picks at her nails absentmindedly, maybe it's to save Yang the embarrassment of eye contact— but Nora ends up looking up at her anyway. 

"I'm going to kill that little shit."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I pretty much figured it out when I saw her at your dorm constantly."

Yang flushes. "Right."

Nora shrugs. "Well? Is it good?"

"Is what good?"

"The sex."

"Jesus," Yang places a palm to her mouth. "It's not like that."

Nora, bless her heart, seems genuinely confused. "Seriously?"

"We just study together. We're friends."

Nora smirks. "Pretty sure that's how they all start."

"Whatever," Yang dismisses. "Yes, I'm searching for her."

"Knew it," she says, looking over Yang's shoulder and grinning. "She's behind you."

Yang whips her head around so fast she's pretty sure she hears a crack. Sure enough, Blake’s here, and she looks stunning. There's a witch's hat on her head obscuring her ears and she's dressed in a long black coat with a green shirt poking from underneath. Her makeup is impressive, green eyeshadow and lips full and red that Yang wants to desperately taste. Her hair falls out of the hat in curls.

"Hi," Yang clears her throat, suddenly not knowing how to properly speak full sentences. She stands awkwardly for a few seconds before approaching and enveloping Blake in a hug— who laughs and hugs back, then pulls away before looking Yang up and down.

"Zombie?" she guesses with amusement, eyes trained on the tattered shirt and makeup on her bare arms that act as bruises. Weiss had helped her with most of the outfit. Blake's eyes linger.

"You're so smart," Yang says. "And I'm guessing you're the most gorgeous person in the world?"

Nora laughs loudly as she watches Blake's face grimace at the attempt of flirtation. She rolls her eyes— something between exasperation and fondness. "Oh, she's trying it. Hi, I'm Nora!"

Blake smiles politely, extends her hand out and huffs a laugh as Nora shakes it eagerly. "Blake."

"I've heard a lot about you," Nora says. "Not from this one, though."

"Because I knew you'd be annoying," Yang says, crossing her arms. "Look at the poor girl. She's already scared."

Blake watches the interaction with a raised eyebrow, smile painting her features prettier than any canvas could compete with. Nora throws her hands up.

"Whatever!" she exclaims. "You can hide her all you want but she will be joining us for beer pong later!"

"Do I get a say in this?" Blake asks, side-stepping from the entrance and into the party. No one's behind her, so she closes the door before leaning against it.

"Nope!" Nora grins, cheery as ever; she gives Ruby a run for her money. "I'd better see you there, or I'll be very upset."

Blake salutes mockingly. "You got it."

Nora nods triumphantly. "See you, Blake. You too, pretty boy."

Yang flushes at the nickname like she always does, reaching over to flick Nora on the head before she ducks and scurries away— probably to annoy someone else.

"Gods," Yang shakes her head. "I'm sorry about her. You can totally not play."

Blake smiles at Yang before pushing away from the wall and hugging her again. Her hands envelope Yang's waist; she's wearing long boots but she still somehow can't completely reach Yang's shoulders without raising her arms up. Yang smiles, hands splayed against her back.

"I missed you," Blake says, and there's something vulnerable about her voice— like maybe she's afraid of saying it aloud. If only she knew about how Yang feels every second they're apart.

"You saw me last week," Yang points out, voice small and teasing. Blake pulls away with a nervous smile and looks around at everyone else. There's people at the bar, people dancing to the music, people outside playing whatever activity they could set up in the limited time. Yang's friends are spread out everywhere.

"I know," Blake looks back at her. There's something twinkling in those gold and Yang can't quite put her finger on it. "I still miss you."

One day she'll write about this— how Blake's eyes shine in the dim light, the golden irises boring into Yang. The way her face looks when she's happy, her laugh that any person can hear and think, now there's a sound I've never heard before. Or maybe it's the warmth and bliss that she sees when she lays her eyes on waves; she thinks of peace and quiet, of unbridled joy and unrestrained floods, of engulfing herself in it fully. She thinks of sentience, how she thinks she's unlocked it only when she sees her.

Yang laughs lightly. "Well, I missed you too. What do you want to do?"

Blake ends up meeting everyone through the most random circumstances. Pyrrha and Jaune, who are tucked away on a couch talking as Blake and Yang had gone over there to grab a deck of cards. Ren who was trying to dance as elegantly as he possibly could and they had accidentally bumped into him while switching partners. She greets Ruby and Weiss who are buying drinks at the bar and finally sees Emerald sulking in the corner.

"Hey, Em," Yang nudges her with her foot. "You okay?"

"Hi," she looks up from the staircase, fingers flying against her phone halting. "Yeah, I'm good. Who's this?"

"Blake," she kneels down and offers a hand. Yang sits next to her, one step higher.

Emerald nods. "So this is Blake."

Yang groans. "Seriously? Who has Ruby not told?"

"Oh, no," Emerald laughs. "I heard it from Nora today."

Yang grumbles. Blake looks at her with a smirk. "Am I that hideous?"

"No," Yang argues. "I just…"

"Embarrassed about me?" Blake, still teasing, offers her a pout and Yang places her head in her hands. Emerald laughs again.

"Well aren't you two cute," she coos, smile fading gradually. "‐but I have to go. My mom needs help."

Yang looks back up. "Is she okay?"

 "Yeah, she's just pretty tired and can't drive," she sighs, smiles at them both before pushing herself up. "I'll text you."

"Okay," Yang says. "Let me know if you need anything."

Emerald nods and Yang watches her leave with a frown. Blake comes to sit at the previously occupied seat.

"Who was that?" she asks. 

"Emerald," Yang shakes her head. "We were rivals for a long time."

There's something there, more, but Blake doesn't ask, and it makes Yang love her just a little more.

"So," she says, interrupting the bout of awkward silence. "You wanna smoke?"

She hopes it doesn't turn Blake away— she's never accepted the invitation at previous parties, but Blake just smiles and agrees. "Smoke what?"

"Weed," Yang clarifies.

She grins. Yang gets her answer.

Blake's hot, Yang's established this, but seeing her tilt her head back as she inhales the smoke into her body is another experience entirely. She's exposed to the arch of her neck, the bottom of her chin and the muscles vibrating with the exhale.

So, Yang has nothing to lose other than dignity. "Shotgun?" she wiggles her eyebrows, hands the joint back to Blake and watches her stare at it thoughtfully. She smiles sweetly, plucks it between two fingers and inhales deeply. Yang's breath catches as she takes it out and leans in, lips ghosting against hers.

Shotgunning, nothing romantic about it; not unless you want it to be.

At the last second— when Blake can no longer keep the smoke in, she turns her head away, looks over Yang and blows into the open air. She resists the urge to whine.

"Buy me a drink first?" she smiles, all innocent and wide. Blake was teasing her. Yang clears her throat, pretends her mind doesn't go to all the ways she could've exhaled it into her lungs, lips brushing and exploring.

"Yes," Yang says, the word coming out cracked and broken. "I can do that." 

"Xiao Long!" Nora screams from downstairs, voice shrill and slurred. Yang leans away from Blake and is suddenly aware of everyone else in the area, peeks out from the balcony and down at Nora who's sitting on the table they set up for pong. "Come out and play!"

"You sound like a movie villain," Yang yells back with no hesitation. "Later."

Nora screams something else, something about betrayal and treachery. Blake moves backwards to the bar and Yang almost trips over her feet trying to follow, navigating the bodies on the staircase and the main area. They come across Ruby who's speaking animatedly to Weiss, hands moving and expressions wide.

Yang sees her raise a hand and lay it across Weiss' shoulder as if trying to be subtle, but Weiss stares at it for a few seconds before looking back at Ruby with a smile. 

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, what a move."

" Weiss is the girl she's trying to win over?" Blake asks, following her line of eye.

"Oh, yeah," Yang says. "I didn't know if she wanted that information shared but now that she's told people about my love life, this is payback."

"Love life, huh?" Blake asks playfully, a more mysterious tone beneath. "Anyone I know?"

Ah. So, Yang should've expected this. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Blake leans forward, one hand at her shoulder and another on her waist. "I would like to know. That's why I asked."

Yang's breath hitches and she tries her best to stay still. She has an urge to lift her hands and firmly wrap them around Blake's. She's afraid of detachment, of letting go. There's abandonment in the room somewhere, lurking beneath the shadows, it's in Blake's eyes if she squints hard enough, but the room is dark and Yang can see her perfectly.

"Um," she says smartly.

Blake smiles. "I'd hate to compete for your attention."

"You've got it all," she assures immediately. Blake's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, hands loosening and it's hell; that split second is hell. Yang's hands jump to grip onto her arms to keep her still; Blake's eyes move down slowly and there's something dangerous about the way she stares at Yang's arms, at her fingers and nails that dig her own delightfully.

"Oh," Blake sighs softly, too soft for circumstance; they're staring at each other's lips. "You're the best person in my life right now."

Yang grins, thinks of how Blake would look with her hair splayed against her bed— with her mouth against Yang's skin. "Drinks?"

"Please."

Yang's wallet surely hates her, but she couldn't care less. She buys drink after drink, tries them out before handing them to Blake and letting her down them. Look, she's a young adult in college, she's allowed to find a pretty girl hanging her head like that and swallowing alcohol as if it was nothing attractive.

"You drunk yet?" she yells over the music. They had amped it up even louder than before, having Blake wincing every few seconds. Faunus ears, she assumes. Blake's are always flattened.

Blake stares thoughtfully. "Dunno. Maybe?"

"I'm gonna go broke," Yang deadpans. Blake laughs, takes her wallet out and pays for the next drink, this time adding two more.

"Drink with me," she offers with a smirk. Yang acquiesces immediately, she'd probably move heaven and earth if Blake just simply asks and looks at her like that. She has two more shots, calling it quits after the room starts spinning. Yang's drawn to the rare twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, I'm definitely drunk now," Blake giggles. Yang smiles brightly at the sound, downing her last drink and slamming it against the table. She blinks heavily to get rid of the immediate dizziness that hits.

"You're cute," she says, blaming it on the cross-fade of it all. Blake crinkles her nose and leans her head on her palm, watching her face. A few minutes pass and the circumstances don't change. 

"How's the view?" Yang asks, counting Blake's lien before giving them to the bartender, making sure to add a five tip of her own. She doesn't look at her but she feels the stare with a burning intensity.

"Gorgeous," Blake drawls, scooting her stool closer and getting in Yang's face. She resists the urge to turn and look at her so easily. "I love your eyes."

Yang can't stop smiling. "My eyes?"

"Mhm," she hums, finger coming up to pull a hair away from her cheek. If she were anyone else, Yang would've kicked them, but Blake isn't anyone else; not even remotely close. "They're purple."

"I'm aware," Yang laughs, finally turns back to her and hands her the wallet. "Is this how you are when drunk? A smartass?"

"Totally," Blake says, tucking it in one of her coat's pockets. There's a moment of quiet, and Yang thinks they're getting somewhere. "I know I say this a lot… but you're the closest person I've ever had."

Yang softens at that. She knows Blake's been through something, something horrible that she hides beneath her melancholic personality, the clever remarks and otherworldly looks. Ever since that day she fell asleep in class, that time they went out outside of campus for the first time. There was something hidden in her face when Yang had pulled her chair out and helped her in, when she held her hand and hugged her without permission or reason.

Blake deserves kindness, deserves someone who's real and honest. Yang had decided that it would be her, and it seemed Blake had, too.

"I'm glad," she says. "Because I really like you."

Blake leans in, and Yang's heart stops.

"Blake!" someone screams, shoves themselves between them. "What's up? I didn't know you were here."

Yang stares at the guy, at his messy blond hair and wide open shirt, exposing his midriff. She looks back at Blake, finds her leveling him with a glare, shivers; if looks could kill. 

"Sun," she says roughly. "You're here."

"Are you kidding?" Sun, apparently, exclaims. "Ruby's like, the best person ever!"

"Watch it," Yang threatens. Sun turns to her with confusion plastered all over his face as if noticing her for the first time. Blake laughs at Yang's deadly expression, places a delicate hand on top of hers.

"This is Yang," she says. "Yang, my annoying friend Sun."

Sun looks back and forth between them, and back and forth, stares at Yang with wide eyes. " You're Yang? Blake does not shut up about you!"

Yang falters just when Blake smacks him in the shoulder, making him wince loudly. "Ouch," he grumbles, rubbing it. "When did you get so strong?" Yang watches Blake's expression fall as she stares at the spot.

"Shit," she says in a small voice. "Sorry."

He laughs it off. "I'm a tough guy, it's okay. Anyway, Yang, tell me all about yourself."

"Nope," Blake says quickly. "Get out of here."

Sun pouts before his expression lights up. "Ohh, were you guys-"

Blake slaps a palm to his mouth. "Out."

He grins through her hand and gallops away. "Huh," Yang says, strangely moody. "And I thought I was the first extroverted blond in your life."

Blake snorts. "He has a boyfriend."

Yang finds herself relieved, knows exactly why. "I didn't ask."

Blake hums, something like saying sure you didn't. Blake doesn't come closer again, and Yang wants to make some dumb remark like I bought you a bunch of drinks. Can I kiss you now?

They end up playing pong mainly to entertain Nora. They're up against her and Pyrrha and she learns that Blake isn't a bad shot, but she's restraining herself in some capacity. She watches as her hat tips back and her eyes squint in concentration, wanting nothing more than to drag her into a room and kiss her lipstick off.

"We win," Nora puffs her chest proudly.

"That's because we're both drunk," Yang excuses, ignoring the fact that Nora was probably hammered as well. Blake giggles as if coming to the same conclusion and Yang's lips quirk at the noise. Nora gives her a knowing grin.

A few hours later and they cut the cake, the first few notes of happy birthday ring out before Yang whistles and stops the song. Ruby doesn't like it, she tells Blake later, too much awkwardness.

The cake is pure chocolate and Yang had bought a bunch of other flavors to treat the other guests. The big one nine label on the cake almost makes her want to cry. Ruby, even more of an official adult— Blake squeezes her hand twice when she notices. The presents are passed all around and Ruby marvels at each one even if they're mundane or useless; it's what draws everyone to Ruby, her joy and unbridled kindness. There's a new toaster, which Yang surely appreciates since Ruby had completely exploded the last one.

"Exploded a toaster?" Blake laughs, arm wrapped around Yang's and head resting on her shoulder.

"She's a unique one," Yang replies fondly. " This is probably from one of our dorm mates. That was a fun day."

When most of them are open, there's wrappers all over the floor and she knows the hell that will come with cleaning up tomorrow. "Weiss!" Ruby exclaims, passing the previous gift to Yang before making grabby hands at her friend. "Your turn."

Weiss rolls her eyes and hands it to her, shifting on her feet and looking nervous. Ruby opens it eagerly, practically ripping the paper to shreds, paper Yang knows Weiss spent unreasonable money on to look pretty. 

She cuts into the box the second it's over, pulls out the item and gasps loudly from her cross-legged position on the floor. Yang smiles at what's in her hand; a brand new laptop.

"Weiss!" Ruby yells, the sound causing everyone to wince. "Weiss!"

Weiss looks up from her apparent interest in the floor, meeting Ruby's eyes and biting her lip. "Yes?"

"Weiss!" Ruby says again. Blake snorts.

Weiss stays still, hands rubbing her arms shakily. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" she puts it on the floor, which Yang hurriedly grabs and sets on a table before someone— mainly Ruby, could step on it. "I love it! Thank you!"

Ruby's taller than Weiss by two inches only, but it still staggers her when she leaps into her arms.

"I had fun," Blake says later, drunk and exhausted. She's used to parties, but she's also used to drinking alone or watching Yang and her friends from a distance. This was… better, fun, exhilarating, exhausting, she tells Yang. Blake toys with the hem of her costume. "Tell Ruby I said happy birthday again."

"Do you have to go?" Yang groans dramatically. It was barely two in the morning, the dorms packed with most of their friends. A few people had left and Yang wasn’t ready for Blake to be one of them.

Blake rolls her eyes, something fond and something else she can’t quite put a finger on. "I'll see you on your birthday."

Yang pouts. "I'd better see you before."

"Depends," Blake teases. "When is it?"

"July," she replies, frowning at the prospect.

She grimaces then laughs. "Well, I can't go that long without seeing you."

"Blake I will literally die," Yang says seriously, nodding her head to the door. “But if you must, at least let me walk you out.”

"So chivalrous," Blake shakes her head. "Let's go."

Yang lets her smile overtake everything else, just as she often does whenever Blake's around.

-

"What did you get me?" Ruby grins, unable to properly walk and actually help Yang clean up. She falls to the couch in uncontrollable giggles and Yang frowns at the inevitable hangover her sister will experience for the first time. She had refused to drink at eighteen, her hate for alcohol overtaking any curiosity. Yang can't blame her, what with their family's situation.

Yang purses her lips and shakes her head. "Help me first."

Ruby falls back dramatically and groans. "But, Yaaang. It's my birthday. No cleaning. I'm drunk."

"You had two shots," Yang says conversationally. 

"I'm drunk," she repeats, and, well, Yang should've known she'd be a lightweight.

"Okay," she mumbles softly. "Give me a second."

Ruby sits up with perfect accuracy and haste as Yang goes to the other room and reaches inside her closet, hidden behind the pile of clothes. She brings it out.

"Ooh," Ruby rubs her hands with anticipation. "It's big."

Yang laughs. "It sure is."

Ruby opens it excitedly, blinking slowly and cautiously. Yang sits next to her on the bed and sighs shakily. She doesn't look.

"So?" Yang asks, head tilted the opposite direction. It's silent but Ruby's little gasps make up all the sounds missing.

"Yang," she says softly, and Yang turns to her. Ruby's holding it in her hands, admiring the red wood and fingers hitting the higher strings, making them ring out. She looks up and meets her eyes and Yang can almost picture it perfectly in her lap, fingers plucking at the strings in practice; just like Summer taught Yang.

Her lip wobbles. Yang pulls her in.

"You didn't have to," Ruby sniffles into her shoulder, but that's just it, isn't it? Yang would do anything to make her happy. 

"I love you."

-

"Here's from our very own chief of police Raven Branwen," a woman says from Blake's screen, cutting the broadcast and inserting a clip of a face Blake has seen on the streets. She's staring at the camera with a scowl. "We're trying our best to catch Spider-Man. Don't worry too much about them. Onto more pressing problems…"

Blake grumbles, eyes rolling beneath the cloth as she spins around from her web. The world upside-down has gotten less disorienting, and somehow comforting. She switches to the police radio again, calls being taken left and right. Nothing of her own expertise yet.

So, the chief of police knows who she is now. That's interesting. (It kind of makes her feel proud.)

She leaps, swings, says hi to bystanders, jumps, swings.

-

A kick to her rib. A blow to her cheek. Blake wheezes.

"Get their mask off," one of them grumbles. Someone holds her down. Blake's vision is obscured by the blood running down, but she manages a blind kick and squeezes one of their arms a little too hard. They scream and suddenly she's free. Blake throws out an unaimed punch, sticks her hand out and shoots gambol freely. 

Her muscles, ligaments, and bones were being eaten away by exhaustion, but she trudges on. She refuses to breathe heavily, keeping her lips sealed and shut. She feels dizzy with every step; everything so constricting. The calluses on her feet from her boots were undoubtedly forming, and when she grimaces at the specks in her vision, the bruises on her forehead twinge.

She had found her White Fang members, if their faces were anything to go by.

Blake is surprised she doesn't pass out as her body jolts with every swing. She coughs and coughs before finally making it to where she needs to be, stripping herself from the bloody and battered suit and being glad she has a shirt and pants on underneath.

Blake comes in limping, eyes glued to the corridor on the very end of the hallway. There's people giving her stares; she's not a new visitor but her form is less than stellar. Bloody, bruised, winces coming out of her mouth with every agonizing step needed to reach her safe place. She thinks she hears someone ask her whether she's okay, doesn't know if she manages a reply or not. 

Blake is so close, so close to where she needs to be, but her legs give out right in front of Weiss' door. There’s a loud thud, but Blake only realizes she fell because of the sheer agony lacing every nerve in her body. There's a few shouts, she thinks, a girl grabbing one arm and attempting to lift her up while someone else goes a step further and knocks on what she assumes to be Yang's door. 

She faintly registers her voice, confused and disoriented as if she had just woken up from a nap. It makes her feel worse, coming in here unannounced and disrupting her and her dorm mates' peace. "There's something wrong with your girlfriend," one of them says to Yang, and the next thing she knows she's in the air and there's a commanding voice filling her ears.

There's distant talking, gratitude, apologies, and suddenly Blake is moving to Yang's room. She groans at the jolts in the movement, attempts to reach her arms around Yang's neck to loop her hands behind it, but the thought turns out to be greater than the effort. She can barely work her shoulders.

It's only when they're inside that Blake notices that Yang's talking to her. "Ruby's with Weiss," she's saying. Blake tries to nod, unsure if her head moves or not.

Yang sighs softly, adjusts her before Blake feels a light pressure against her back. She forces herself to open her eyes just a bit wider, feels her right one refusing to cooperate and grunts at the harsh rays of the lamp that hangs on the ceiling. 

"I'm sorry," Yang murmurs gently; Blake hears the voice to her right, cranes her neck and spots Yang kneeling next to her. Blake's laying on the couch, the same spot she's almost fallen asleep on during multiple occasions of studying with Yang. It all seems so far away now even though she hadn't been here for only a few weeks; it's still a drastic change— going from everyday of the week to sudden silence. She's sure Yang's confused— upset, but Blake doesn't know how much time it takes before everything starts spilling out, till all the secrets and truths fall into the wrong hands, careless, reckless; game over. 

"What happened, baby?" Yang asks, voice cracking with worry. 

Blake opens her mouth to respond and all that comes out is a hoarse. "Fuck." 

Yang gasps, shushes her immediately with a finger to her lip. "Don't talk. Not now." 

Blake tries to nod again and thinks she actually dies. Everything aches so deeply, physically and emotionally— at how Yang's looking at her; with care and love. She had expected to be beaten one day– she wasn't invincible, but the devastation in Yang's eyes almost hurts more.

"I'll be back," she says, gets up and rushes to the bathroom. Blake manages a confirmation, more of a whimper coming out, and twitches in her place. Even the softness against her back is rough and she keeps trying to adjust to make it easier on her body but to no avail. Yang appears again, this time with bandages, alcohol and antiseptic and a lot of cotton swabs. Blake exhales deeply, tries to regulate her breathing so she doesn't pass out.

"Just put the bandages on," she rasps. Yang looks down at her and kneels again, propping a pillow behind her head.

"No," she murmurs. "We have to disinfect and clean first."

Blake whimpers again— the prospect of feeling stings on her face and body is gonna hurt. The idea of not getting better immediately sucks, especially knowing that she heals easier and faster than most. She can't tell Yang that, though.

"Okay," she replies. Yang smiles at the consent and starts rubbing her cheeks with the cotton. She winces immediately, tries to pry her face away until Yang grabs her chin and stops her from moving. She's almost embarrassed by how quickly she stills, Yang's eyes so deeply concentrated on her face. She moves to the bruise above her eye and she's mad she can't fully see Yang with it swollen shut.

She's out of it, she knows. "You're cute when you're worried."

The scrunch of her eyebrows, the slanted lavender eyes shining, how focused she is with her lips pursed; Blake wants to laugh. Yang doesn't find it amusing, doesn't blush or look away.

Her eyes soften. "Not now."

Blake deserves that. She tries to stay as frozen as possible to make it easier and doesn't suppress the winces and grunts as Yang continues to work on her face. Her fingernails still dig into Blake's chin, the light sting aching with pleasure instead of pain.

When she's done placing the respective bandages, she leans back and stretches out her arms. Blake's eyes fall to the exposed line of her stomach. Yang rolls her eyes and leans back in to kiss the tip of her nose.

"Better?" she asks, laying her head on her hand that's resting on the sofa.

"Much," Blake smiles and quickly purses her lips back together. Stretching her features still hurts.

"Where else?" she looks her up and down, eyes mostly trained on her bloodied shirt. Eyes pleading with her to be honest.

Blake feels tears glistening, tries her best to shove them back in or play them off as the pain being too much. She can't speak, because she knows she's going to dismiss everything else, so she points instead. Her ribs, where the marks, scratches and broken bones are.

Yang asks for permission, because of course she does, and Blake sends her a weak confirmation. She lifts her shirt slowly, mouth parting with every mark and different shade of color revealed.

"Shit," Yang whispers. "What the fuck?"

Blake winces again, loudly , and it snaps Yang out of her blatant panic. She rushes to her fridge and grabs a bag of frozen peas, and Blake groans at the immediate pain relief when it's placed onto her discolored stomach.

Yang doesn't know what to do, Blake realizes— and she doesn't blame her. She purses her lips. "Can I change your clothes?"

Blake's daze is rapidly gone. "What?"

Yang flushes. "They're very bloody."

Blake blinks and looks down; the pain swiftly transforms into a light ebb. "Okay."

-

Blake wakes up in a bed that isn't hers, and that realization comes before she even opens her eyes. The smell is so distinctly Yang that she jumps awake before getting the chance to remember any previous events.

"Blake," there's hands on her shoulder, gently pushing her back down. "Blake, it's me. It's okay."

Her voice calms Blake immediately, soothes her nerves and relaxes her tensed body. She lays back down and finally opens her eyes.

"Whoa," she blinks, right eye finally open but not cooperating as much. "You're a great face to wake up to."

But Yang is clearly not in the mood for this particular dance. Her lips are in a firm line, eyes boring into her face skeptically. Blake bites the inside of her cheek knowingly. 

"First of all," Yang inhales through her nose. "Are you still in a lot of pain?"

No, she isn't. It's all faded to a dull throbbing, her newly improved body healing her injuries scarily fast. But, she can't say so. "A bit."

Yang sighs, hand cupping her cheek and thumb rubbing at the bruise softly. "Second of all-"

"Oh no," she mutters.

"What the fuck happened?" she practically shrieks. "You come in here," a grunt, "-bloody and fucking dying and expect me to heal you? Blake, you should've gone to a hospital? Who even did this to you? I'll fucking kill them-"

Blake sits up and places a palm to Yang's mouth. "It was nothing. I should really get going."

She moves to swing her legs off the bed…bed, (she's on Yang's bed— the thought makes her move faster-) but Yang shoves her back down with a scoff.

"Um," she says. " No. "

"Yang-"

" Blake ," Yang laughs in disbelief. "You come in like this and expect me to not ask questions? My friend, looking like someone beat her to a pulp and she came in on one foot with blood covering every inch of her body? Excuse me for worrying and wanting answers."

Their first fight. Blake wishes it were anything other than this.

"No," she says, lowering her voice and relaxing her body. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Yang grumbles. "That's still not an answer."

"I'm dealing with a lot right now," Blake says. "I got caught up with the wrong people."

" Wrong people," Yang repeats slowly, trying to enunciate it more as if she'll understand better. "What kind? Like a gang?"

Blake nods. Yang doesn't seem to accept the answer, but Blake gives her nothing else, so she nods. "Please tell me it's over with."

Her first lie to Yang, too, it seems. "Yeah, don't worry. You should see the other guys."

And at last, a laugh.

(Blake stays over for a few more hours per Yang's request, constantly fussing over her injuries and telling her to stay in bed. Blake can't even pretend to hate it.)

-

Blake tries to sneak her way upstairs but she gets caught promptly. She stops halfway up and turns back around, head angled to the side.

"Where were you? Whose clothes are those?" Ghira asks, arms crossed and posture stiff. Blake makes sure her right side isn't showing, the hoodie swallowing her completely.

"Yang's," she says. "I was at Yang's."

"Blake," he starts, and she already knows where this is going. "You need to tell your mother and I where you're going. We've been worried sick. You weren't answering our calls."

"Gods, dad," she huffs. "I'm twenty-one, I can do whatever I want."

"I never said you couldn't, " he says. "You just need to tell us next time. You know why we worry."

Yes, she does, but it's been years now. She sighs and continues her way up to her room. He doesn't try to stop her again.

-

Blake reaches the highest point she could find in the vicinity and stands up straight, wondering how long she can do so without falling. The platform is a three inch wooden pole, so she's not too confident she'll make it past a minute.

Twenty seconds.

She freefalls, sticking her arms out and letting the wind flap at her body. Her suit flows in the air despite being tight and her ears threaten to flick upwards and she fights to keep them down. When she's close to the ground— dangerously close, she points shroud and presses her middle and ring finger to her palm, shooting a web out to attach to a nearby building. Her shoulder should pop with the sudden pressure, but it doesn't. It just jolts sharply— which is starting to feel pretty good, and she's left swinging in the air.

Her phone vibrates within her left pocket. Left. So, it's her real phone rather than the burner one. Blake sticks gambol out and pulls her phone out with her right hand. (She's getting used to doing stuff in mid-air now.)

yang: hiii. coffee today? :p

blake: Can't!! Busy :(

yang: aw man

blake: I'm sorry. I'm on my way to an appointment.

yang: of what kind?

blake: simetbign ipoeant

yang: ?

Shit, well, her shoulder jerked a little too hard on that certain swing.

blake: Sorry. Driving. Something important.

yang: don't text and drive!!

Blake smiles, indulges her and sticks onto a concrete wall, turning around and letting her legs take the weight. Don't text and swing might share the same sentiment.

blake: Red light. Proposition.

yang: listening ;)

blake: Come over next sat? My parents want to meet you especially since you kept me so late last night.

Yang types, deletes, chat bubbles appearing and disappearing. Her stomach sits heavy with anticipated rejection.

yang: the sudden pressure! how could u

blake: You have a week to prepare you'll be fine

yang: all because I took care of u ….

blake: Thanks again. Seriously.

yang: hey np. i was joking. make it up to me by never doing that again jfc u scared the shit out of me

blake: Promise. 

Her right side of the suit dings and Blake's ears instinctively perk. She lowers them. (It's still something she needs to work on.)

blake: Gtg. Green light

yang: TTYL:))

-

Blake's too engrossed in her reading to notice the slight knock until she hears it again, much louder this time. She looks up, lightly jumps at the figure outside her window, immediately relaxes when she takes note of the messy blonde hair and goofy grin. 

She stares at her— speechless because what in the hell is she doing out there; Yang knocks again, tilts her head. Blake bites back a laugh at the dramatic gesture and puts the book aside— (bookmarking it seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind) and practically sprints to her window. 

"Hi," she says breathlessly, pulling it open— (breathless over what ), "You're early."

Yang smiles, smoothes down her hair and sets her weight on one knee, getting out of the crouched position. "Sorry. I wanted to see you before meeting your parents."

Blake rolls her eyes, "I swear they're not intimidating."

"No, I know," Yang shakes her head. "I just missed you."

Blake's heart shouldn't skip a beat at that. When they're hanging out or at parties it's always about confidence and knowing your self worth, about putting out and harmlessly flirting. Here, in Blake's room, in her pajamas, bare face— in all her vulnerability, she couldn't care less about everything else. She allows her heart to stop for as long as it deems necessary. "How'd you get up here?"

Yang looks down, sheepish. "Climbed a tree and jumped onto your porch roof."

For how high her room was Yang didn't even seem breathless while Blake was for absolutely no reason. Of course she had amazing stamina, better than someone who had literal superpowers.

"You're a dork," Blake scoffs, taking her hand and pulling her in. Yang doesn't have a chance to answer, stumbles inside and holds onto Blake to keep herself from falling to the floor. She looks around her room, staring and admiring as if this isn't the most mundane place ever.

Blake's secretly glad she decided to clean yesterday.

She takes the time to look at Yang from head to toe, she's wearing a simple yellow shirt with a dragon design, black flannel tied to her waist and jeans that are cuffed at the end. Her converse doesn't give her any extra height but she still manages to tower over everything, a backpack hanging loosely over her shoulder. Dressed so simply, modestly, and she wants nothing more than to stare at her for longer. She's so pretty that Blake doesn't know what to do with herself sometimes.

Blake bites back a smile. "So?"

Yang turns to her, forgets what she was doing in the first place. "Uh. Cute?"

"Are you talking about me or my room?"

Yang blushes, chooses to stare down at the floor and shrugs. "Both."

It's all so modern, so novel and exciting. Blake doesn't know where they're heading but the steady pace in their blossoming relationship is something she wants to cherish. She reaches out, pulls a loose hair away from Yang's forehead.

"Oh," Yang breathes, shaking her head back and forth to think more clearly. "I- Uh… got your mom—"

She swings her backpack to her front, pulling down the zipper with a small tug and taking something out of it, Blake registers the bouquet with a surprised gasp. Yang grins, waves it proudly and—

A petal falls to the floor. Several petals follow. Yang blinks— stares down at them, unamused, "...these."

Blake tries to choke back her laugh. The disappointment in Yang's face was adorable, something about wanting to impress a girl's parents being on her highest priority of the night and not wanting to take it any less seriously is so… endearing; something out of one of her romance books.

"They're lovely," Blake says, half sarcastic and part adoration. She's not totally lying, the gesture is what makes it all so great. The flowers had clearly been lavender, their purple hue still poking out through the disheveledness. It, however, probably didn't take kindly to being stuffed in a backpack with an athlete who just climbed up a whole porch roof ten feet off the ground.

"Beautiful, right?" Yang jokes back, Blake's eyes twinkle with amusement. "They– they were beautiful–"

"So beautiful," Blake nods along; Yang rolls her eyes, choosing to ignore her comment and shoving them back in her bag. Blake looks on with a shake of her head. "They actually held together pretty well."

Yang chuckles, "I'm gonna keep these." Blake purses her lips and agrees. It's probably for the best.

So, it turns out sneaking into a girl's house would probably be a bad first impression, Yang and Blake both realize quickly. They come up with a small plan; Blake decides to tell her parents that Yang had come over for a study session, opting to tell them that she had texted to be let in which is why they didn't hear a knock.

It's not great, but it works. Her mom tells her to come down for dinner when they're done studying– or when she calls them, whichever comes first. Blake nods, says something about Yang being great, Ghira's grunt in the background of I hope so.

Blake hasn't really had close friends… ever. The closest would be Ilia, maybe Sun, but never someone with as many feelings as she has for Yang. She knows her parents are trying to look after her but she wishes they'd loosen up. She tells Yang this, who gets up and starts pacing. Blake puts down her book, and yes they had been studying. Why lie to her parents when they can easily help each other out anyway?

Kill two birds with one stone, at least she wouldn't be lying about yet another thing.

"What if they hate me?" Yang asks, hands fiddling with her flannel sleeves on the side. "What if I say something stupid?"

Blake looks on. It feels so dramatic. They weren't even dating, just a friend meeting another friend's family; but to them, it's different. They know it's different.

"Relax," Blake smiles. "If they see what I see, then they'll love you."

Yang pauses— turns to her, blinks twice and smiles. Blake tilts her head, bites her lip and beckons her forward. Yang complies, sighing deeply, trying to rid her nerves. Blake interlaces their hands, fingers brushing against each other— legs swinging off her bed while Yang stands in between them. She squeezes tightly, "Let's get back to studying."

"Nerd," Yang says, but she sits down anyway.

The next hour is spent going over notes, quizzing each other and asking nonsensical questions. Yang interjects with a stupid joke, Blake interrupts with a bout of laughter and it takes a while before they come down and go back to work.

It was the giggles that were the sails upon their boat, the laughter, the smiles. They understand each other in everything and that was their bond. They could be serious too; they loved their families deeply, so Blake guesses the humor was how they let out the tension of all their problems. In those silly moments, everything was perfect, and it's the sweetness she needs in rough times. That's what a friend can do... it's the love that makes doors in emotional brick walls, the love that makes everything possible.

Friends. It’s all they are so far; Blake isn’t sure it’s the right term for what they have but no matter her feelings, their feelings, they were best friends first and foremost. 

Blake is thinking. "You're smart."

Yang looks up, pauses, face twisting into confusion then a fond smirk. "Great start."

"Hypothetically," Blake begins nervously. "If you were trying to fit something small in a small container, how would you make more of it fit?"

It's not the first time Blake contemplates asking her about anything Spider-Man related. She heard Yang raving about them one day, which she had blushed profusely at and hoped it wasn't too obvious; and wondered if her friend could help with technical problems. 

Yang hums, clicks her pen shut and shoves her notebook aside. Speculation, theories, they both shared love for the unknown and deemed impossible; Yang won’t mind the questions.

And she’s right. “Elaborate.”

Blake continues. “Well, something small sprung out. That something is contained in another thing that’s small too. Do you have any ideas on how to make more of it fit into the small thing?”

“I’m confused,” Yang frowns. “Do I get to know what the something is?”

Blake flinches, looks away guiltily. It’ll probably make it look even more suspicious to Yang so she looks back up, finds gentle eyes and sighs in relief. She should know how respectful Yang is by now, never prodding for more.

“Nope,” Blake replies. “It’s just a hypothesis I was thinking about. For class.”

"Ah," Yang puts her hand to her chin— Blake wants to coo at the sight. "Well, make it thinner? Or able to collapse in on itself? Reduce its volume? Dunno."

Blake's already thought of all of those and more, not sure which one to try or if any would even work. She appreciates an answer nonetheless. "Thanks."

Yang smiles, choosing to disregard her studies and stare down at her hands. 

"We should go down," Blake suggests. Yang's expression doesn't change, like she knew what Blake was going to say. She hangs her head back, groaning. "Do we have to?"

"I'll meet your parents after this," Blake offers. "We'll be even."

Yang's eyes shoot up in shock. Blake pauses, so shaken by the change of expression that she pulls away from her. "What?"

As the silence grows, so does her anxiety. Yang had never mentioned family beyond Ruby and Blake doesn’t know what to think of it. The turmoil increases along with her concern and because her focus is so jumbled, it was difficult to get everything inside her brain in working order. A million thoughts pouring in like rain on a stormy night, clouding her thoughts and making her think this is it, this is when Yang leaves for good -

Yang reaches out, takes her hand and squeezes tightly. Blake looks into her eyes, finds nothing but understanding and melancholy. She squeezes back, waits for her to speak first.

"If it's just us two here," Yang finally says— more like asking a hesitant question, "what does it matter if we're a mess… right?"

“Yang?” Blake prods gently. Not pushing, not aggressive, just kindness and consideration. Confusion, but tenderness.

She takes a shuddering breath, fingers rapping against Blake’s now healed knuckles in consistent rhythm. “Yeah. Give me a second.”

Blake nods, maybe a little too fast, but the last thing she wants to do is pressure her into talking when she isn’t ready. Yang chuckles at that, and Blake’s own face spreads into a smile at the expression. She’ll never get tired of hearing Yang’s laugh, wonders how it’ll feel over her own heartbeat.

It had only been a few minutes but to Blake they felt like seconds. “It’s just my dad.”

Blake purses her lips. “Okay.”

Yang closes her eyes, exhales deeply through her mouth and bites her lip. Blake knows the signs of trying to hold back tears all too well. “My birth mother left me the second I was born. Ruby’s mom— my real mom died when I was thirteen.”

Her heart aches almost immediately. Blake sees her. She does. She sees pain in those eyes. It's probably sat there for her entire life, trapped in the strength she thinks she has to carry. She sees love too. Blake's not perfect and she just wants Yang to let her join in that pain, walk with her, feel the same torture and help each other bare it.

Yang swallows. "My mom came back a few years ago, during the summer. It's when I took the internship. I couldn't stand being in that house. My dad wants to reconcile with her."

Yang opens her eyes back up and looks everywhere except Blake’s face. She registers the tears in her eyes, the silent sniffs and forced swallows. Reaching out, Blake cups her cheek gently, thumb running underneath her eyelids softly— encouraging, hoping Yang looks at her; Blake’s love like a meadow, a quiet place to reflect.

And she does. Yang’s breath hitches and Blake surges forward, encasing her in a tight hug. She feels firm arms around her shoulders, her own around Yang’s waist. Her neck is getting wet and all she does is nuzzle her shoulder and whisper reassurances. The warmth is encompassing and Blake will stay here forever if it means Yang is comforted.

One either has an emotional breakthrough or gives in to their primal panicked response when revealing to someone a part of themselves that they've been repressing or denying. Blake’s been there and has deeply regretted being vulnerable. The position is the same in both circumstances, yet one leads to good destinations and the other to harmful places. Blake sets herself free because she owes herself that much— she owes herself the ability to trust again, she owes her best friend knowledge of what she was signing up for. She hopes Yang doesn’t have any regrets and she’ll try to make sure of it.

“Do you want me to tell you a secret?” she whispers in her ear. She feels Yang suppress a mild shiver; a nod at her shoulder. Blake pulls back, done hiding. Yang’s been in her class, her house, her heart and she’s the first that actually matters. Blake thinks she’s starting to learn what love is.

"Do you know the White Fang?" she asks, suddenly nervous. Yang nods again, purses her lips and eyes urging her to continue. 

Blake bites the inside of her cheek, tries not to give into her primal tendency to run and cower. "I used to be a part of them."

She waits for Yang to process, watches her face twists into confusion and interest. No fear. No judgement. Just patience. "Okay."

Blake exhales. "Okay?"

Yang smiles, wipes at her eyes hastily. "I mean. I'm curious. But you don't have to tell me."

What ?

"But…" Blake trails off. "They're dangerous."

Yang shrugs. "You said you used to. You're not anymore."

"I hurt people." Blake argues, unsure where she's going with this. She's just confused by Yang's indifference. She hasn't told this to anyone so she didn't know how it would go— if blame or horror would come first.

"I'm sure you didn't mean to," Yang says.

Blake laughs through a choked up sob, tries to hide her face behind her hands and doesn't succeed in stopping the tears. Yang is almost too perfect to be real; gentle, soft, caring and never asking for anything in return. Something Blake’s never really had. Maybe she's a little angry at the prospect— where had Yang been her whole life?

"What is wrong with you?" Blake giggles, but it's not condescending; more of a, how are you real?

Yang joins in the laughter. "Hey! Do you want me to be upset? I don't know what you went through!"

Blake tries to let the air die down, composes herself enough to put on a serious face. "Do you want to know?"

"Kind of," Yang shrugs. "Again, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. You're the first person I ever cried to talking about my mom. So… don't feel too embarrassed."

Blake's heart skips a beat— the fact that Yang had felt safe enough to be vulnerable to no one else but her. "There's no shame in crying."

"Wait," Yang pauses. "Is that who you got in trouble with last week?"

"Yeah," Blake says, honesty sugary sweet on her tongue. "Some old members found me. I scared them off."

"Good," Yang says matter-of-factly. "Or else they'd have to deal with a very angry best friend."

Blake laughs and relishes in the few minutes that go by with pure silence. Yang looks down for a few seconds then shoves their notebooks aside and sits still. Blake waits for her to say something, and gets the response in a sudden tackle. She shrieks as they fall onto the bed in tangled limbs and her head meets the soft pillow behind her.

"What the fuck?" she swats Yang across the shoulder, who's not much help, by the way— deciding to sit on top of her with crossed arms.

Blake pouts. "What was that for?"

Yang smirks. "Things were getting too serious."

Blake rolls her eyes. "Oh, how tragic for you. Does that mean you don't want to hear about my super cool gang experience?"

She’s trying to ignore how dangerous this position is and how Blake's mouth goes completely dry at the sight of Yang above her, straddling her waist and staring down at her like that . She may have meant it as an innocent ice breaker but Blake resists the urge to squirm and bring her down for a kiss.

"Oh, I totally do," Yang smiles, "-but you can tell me when you're ready."

Her first instinct is to respond with I am ready, but she'd just be lying. Yang can read her easily and can tell that she's stalling; the call-out doesn't scare her as much as it should.

Blake says. "You're the first person I ever told that to."

Yang seems surprised at that. "Seriously?"

Blake nods, hands having a mind of their own and coming to rest atop Yang’s waist. "Seriously. You could report me right now if you wanted to."

Yang chuckles. "Well I don't want to do that ."

Blake mirrors the gesture. "I was like sixteen so it probably wouldn't do much to me… but I appreciate it."

For all the confidence she carries, Yang looks sheepish right now. Blake finds it adorable. "Well… thank you for trusting me."

Blake hums, starts trailing her hand all the way up her stomach, her chest, her shoulders, then her arms. She feels the taut muscle ripple from beneath her fingertips— can tell Yang tenses and tries to stay as still as possible. She doesn't know how they got here, why Yang is letting Blake touch her like this and why Blake even decided to touch her like this; but Yang's staring at her with this look and Blake kind of never wants to stop.

Yang's own hands clutch idly at the bedsheets and Blake wants to tell her to touch her too— wants to guide her hand and rest it on her shirt— or maybe underneath, but she's too scared of breaking their current tension. She wonders if Yang can feel it too, can feel the way the air stills and time freezes.

Blake's hands come to a rest back at her hips, pulling her more flush against her waist. Yang’s breath catches and she leans down, face right above her. As much as Blake wants to kiss her, she knows it's not the right time with everything just revealed. Yang knows it too, nuzzles her cheek once before putting her weight on her and burying herself in her neck. Blake twitches at the sensation but otherwise doesn't move, hand coming to stroke Yang's hair.

"Is this okay?" she asks. "I know you don't like when people touch your hair."

There's no hesitation when Yang speaks. "I like it when it's you."

Blake really wants to cry.

The dinner is a huge success. Her parents are a little obsessed with Yang— empathy gleaming in their eyes when she explains her situation, surprise when they find out how smart she is and happiness when she talks about Blake. She can tell how they visibly relax when they realize Yang isn't a bad influence, but perhaps a great one.

"You're a princess," Yang marvels at the size of their house and how fancy it looks.

Blake clicks her tongue. "My dad was the chief of Menagerie."

"Still counts."

Ghira laughs; he and Yang bond over their love for sports and Blake has no interest in the matter but might as well because of how intently she listens to Yang speak. She waves her hands a lot when she's passionate about what she's talking about and Blake smiles unabashedly at it. Her mom talks about recipes and apparently Yang loves cooking too, having to take care of Ruby makes for some interesting side hobbies and requirements.

When it's time to go and everyone's shared their goodbyes, Blake shows Yang around the house before walking her to the exit. 

Yang touches the doorframe. "Nice to finally meet you, door."

Blake rolls her eyes. "You're an idiot."

Yang bites her lip, backpack hanging over both shoulders and feet shifting. She stands in front of the house, porch lights shimmering behind her; Blake doesn't know why they even try— Yang's the brightest one of all. "Thanks for having me."

"Thanks for coming," Blake replies. "I told you they'd love you."

Yang smiles. "They're amazing people."

"That they are," Blake nods. She owes her parents everything— for the outpouring love and affection they've shown her even in the darkest times. The determination to pull her out of what seemed like a neverending nightmare. "What are you going to do today?"

"Sleep," Yang snorts. "It's ten."

Blake shakes her head. "I figured you'd go out with someone."

"Belladonna," Yang tuts, cups her cheek and leans inside the house just enough to place a kiss on her forehead. "As if there's anyone more important than you."

Blake honestly feels like she's floating when Yang finally lets her go and races down the stairs to her bike like a child. She places a hand on her head, feeling dizzy, high. On cloud nine. Drunk. Other things that describe the hazy movement beneath her eyelids.

"What a wonderful girl," her mom says from behind her. Blake jumps and quickly turns around— surprised her aura didn't kick in to alert that someone was behind her. Had she been that caught up in her emotions?

"Yeah," she says, trying to compose herself. She's not sure if her mother saw the exchange between them, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She walks back to the dining room to find her dad gathering the dishes and taking them to the kitchen; decides to help so she can avoid her mother's knowing gaze.

They clean in silence until he speaks up. "I love her."

She grins, almost says me too.

-

Three months and the same old crimes. Blake's getting better, bigger, people tremble when they hear her name; well, her alias. Journalists and reporters are torn, one side adore her— say she's improving the city and pull up graphs on how crime rates have significantly decreased ever since her appearance; others… not so much.

"This just in, folks," Mercury Black, the daily Bugle reporter says from the tiny screen of Blake's phone. "Spider-Man's out causing chaos yet again . The police aren't doing anything to catch them. Here's a clip of their antics just earlier today!"

The broadcast cuts, Blake sees herself helping out some kid who had been punched to the floor by a bunch of people his age. Blake doesn't fight bullies— they deserve a punch to the face, sure, but it wasn't her place; they didn't seem older than sixteen. She had scared them off, placed a delicate hand on one of their shoulders and scolded them.

It was enough, they had left the kid alone. The clip cuts and she's greeted by Black's scowling face again.

"They're hurting your children!" he says. "Look at that moment, right there ."

The photo pops up on-screen from the video, the split second frame of Blake putting her hand on the kid. Anyone with eyes would see what was so clearly happening, so Blake doesn't really care. She likes tuning in for the laughs.

She shuts her phone off just as she swings to the next building, eyes and ears as alert as possible. Blake runs sideways across a skyscraper, shoots a web out and hangs off it to check her phone once again.

No new messages.

She tunes into the police radio next, hears random chatter and one asking another to grab him a donut from a nearby bakery. Blake rolls her eyes and sighs again. Maybe she should catch up on assignments instead.

-

November tenth. Most forgettable month in Yang's opinion.

"Who do you think they are?" Nora asks, hands to her hips and eyes glued to the television. A camera cuts to Spider-Man swinging from a building with a person in their arms, narrowly escaping gunshots from a group of people below.

Yang continues to wash dishes. Nora barged in unannounced to ask them out to a party, which Yang had declined.

"Who knows," Ruby shrugs. "But, man are they cool."

-

"Hi, sweetie," Blake hears from downstairs. She sets her phone down when she hears the booming reciprocation. The knock on her door at first had made her groan, but the realization of who it was made her smile split so wide it hurt her cheek muscles.

She throws on a hoodie and sweatpants; doesn't really care about how she would see her. (She knows by now that Yang doesn't care what she's in.) Blake races down the stairs, taking them two steps at a time until she reaches the entryway.

"Speak of the devil," Kali smiles. Yang spots her in the middle of kicking off her boots, a grin forming almost immediately at the sight. 

"There she is," Yang opens her arms, Blake leaping into them as if she were made to fit there, bodies melding together perfectly. She hears a shuffle; her mom must be walking away.

"This is the fourth time you come here unannounced," Blake says. "I'm getting the feeling you're a little obsessed with me."

Yang gasps, swaying Blake back and forth frantically. "Who told you that? Slander. Lies on my name."

Blake rolls her eyes, hands coming to stop Yang's moving arms. "What's up?"

"I have a proposition," she says, leaning back and suddenly looking sheepish. "That you may not like."

"Uh, oh," Blake frowns. "You're switching chemistry partners. I knew it. You hate me."

Yang flicks her forehead, which Blake sees coming. She doesn't dodge it. " No. Never… um…"

Blake sighs, sliding her hands onto Yang's shoulder and pressing a kiss on her nose. "Say it. I promise I'll think about it."

Yang smiles cutely at the gesture, bites her lip before finally talking. "Thanksgiving dinner. At my house. Do you wanna come?"

Oh. Blake's never really celebrated the holiday with her family since they already eat together everyday and don't see a purpose in it. She nods easily. "Of course. Why'd you think I'd say no?"

"Well…" she shuffles her feet nervously. "My mom's gonna be there."

"Oh," Blake blinks, sympathy immediately seeping its way into her heart. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Yang sighs. "It's gonna be more annoying and I need moral support."

"I'll be there," Blake nods. "Promise."

Yang lets out a sigh of relief. "Great. Thank you."

Blake smiles, taking her hand and leading them to the living room. She finds the TV on and sits on the couch, patting the spot next to her; Ghira's watching football and acknowledges Yang with a smile. She sits next to Blake and exhales deeply.

"House?" Blake asks a few minutes later when Yang and her dad are both engrossed in the game. She's been busy staring at her from the side, face so perfect no matter what angle; the urge to kiss her freckles always there.

"Hm?" she asks, tearing her eyes away from the screen and finding Blake's with ease.

"You said you were inviting me to your house."

"Ah," Yang nods. "It's in Patch; a small town west of Vale… technically in Vale. An hour drive that I could totally take you on."

"I'd love that."

Blake's eyes dart to her lips and look back up. Yang blinks at her dazily.

"Hot chocolate for you," Kali comes in holding a tray. "And tea for Blake."

Yang shoots her award-winning smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Belladonna."

A firm glare. Yang's arm around Blake's shoulder tenses and clutches tighter.

"Kali."

A satisfied hum. 

(Blake sees Yang grinning into her cup at that, but she doesn't mention it.)

-

Blake lands on the floor with a breathless gasp. "What's wrong, ma'am?"

A brunette with glasses had been screaming her name with panic and desperation, Blake immediately spotting her and jumping down from the store she was on without hesitation.

"My kid," she says. "He went missing last week. The police filed a missing person's report but they're not doing anything . Please , Spider-Man."

Fuck . Blake hasn't dealt with cases before, something that needs investigation or more thought than just punches and kicks. She can't deny the guilt that pounds at her heart, the devastation when she looks at her face.

"Spider-Man," someone else calls from behind her, and Blake's about to tell them to wait a moment before they come up and shove a phone in her face.

"Can I have a picture?" she asks, eyes glued to the whiteness of her mask, where her eyes are. Blake turns back to the woman, finds her waving her arm frantically, to get on with it. She throws up a peace sign quickly as the girl, who looks no older than thirteen, snaps a quick photo before thanking her and running away.

Huh. That's a first.

"Please," the woman approaches again. "I'll give you anything."

Blake taps her foot rhythmically. "No need, ma'am. I'll do my best. What's his name?"

"Oscar Pine," she exhales. "Here's my phone number in case you find anything."

Blake's about to be way in over her head.

-

Yang opens the door to Nora and Ren's dorm, finding Blake's eyes with an easy smile. She opens it wider and watches her go in, exploring.

Ren and Ruby greet her, going back to playfully arguing about which peanut butter was superior. Nora's setting up snacks while Weiss and Pyrrha are talking in hushed whispers. Jaune isn't in sight.

"Hey, Blake," Nora calls, completely deadpan. "There's a rumor you got like, totally beat up."

Yang blinks, panicked, but Blake shoots her a simple wink. "Rumor's the word for a reason. I spilled syrup on myself."

Nora laughs, oh college, she says. Yang raises her eyebrows and almost chokes on her beer. 

-

She considers the parked cop car with mild interest. Either Yang had done something wrong or-

Raven Branwen answers the door when she knocks, looking her up and down before reaching a hand out. "You must be Blake."

Her tongue is numb, she thinks. It's why words are getting stuck in her throat. "You must be Yang's mom."

The chief of police. The person who's been trying to catch Blake; kill her. She feels stupid for not noticing the clear resemblance; sees Yang over Raven's shoulder setting the table.

"Raven," she nods, opening the door further and waving a hand. "Come on in."

Blake smiles politely, pretends her mind doesn't race with what this entails. Of course her best friend (and crush's) mother is the person who hates her the most. She makes a beeline for Yang before greeting anyone else, needing some comfort and reassurance; thankfully, there's no one in sight anyway.

"Hi," she says. Yang puts the last plate down and looks at her with a grin, pulling her into a hug immediately. A year afterward and she’s still re-learning the innocence of touch, the concept of safe physical contact— with Adam, every touch was as if it were one step from viciousness— but something approximately Yang makes it simple.

"I'm so happy you're here," she mumbles against her ear. Blake's neck hairs jump up. "I wouldn't know what to do if I was alone with her ."

Blake laughs and pulls back, eyeing her outfit with a blush. She's wearing a black button-up shirt with similar baggy pants, golden belt looping around her waist. Her sleeves are rolled to her elbows, forearms on display and making her more attractive than she already is.

She must have been staring for a long time because Yang snickers. Blake smacks the back of her hand onto her stomach lightly. (She's been getting better about not using force.)

She can't downplay; says. "You look good."

"I can tell," Yang smirks, smug face dropping when she takes a moment to consider Blake, too. "You're beautiful."

Blake giggles. Oh, anything Yang says will make her blush like a lovesick schoolgirl; she's starting to accept the fact that she loves it.

Blake hears someone coming, well… hear is a strong word. Her aura informs her of incoming steps before the clacking shoes even ring out. She turns to the descending person and finds a tall man with blond hair and piercing brown eyes.

"Blake Belladonna," he says with a wide smile. "It's nice to finally put a face to the stories."

"Oh, ignore him," Yang rolls her eyes. "He's excited someone's finally here for Thanksgiving."

"You don't invite others?" Blake asks, mildly amused.

The man laughs. "Yang? Inviting her friends to Patch? No way."

"Please stop," Yang hangs her head back. "Dad, I will kill you."

He laughs again, approaches Blake and pulls her into a hug. "I'm Taiyang," she ignores the tendency to pull away; it must be a Xiao Long thing, "-but you can just call me Tai."

"It's good to meet you," Blake hugs back. He smiles at her before receding to the kitchen to fetch Ruby, who he notes is probably munching on all the cookies.

"So…" Blake starts, smirk widening.

Yang puts a finger up. "Don't even."

"Wasn't going to."

Dinner is actually relatively quiet, in the beginning at least. They exchange small conversations and occasional laughs, Ruby talks about her major, how fun building things and designing them are and Tai recalls childhood stories which Yang quickly shuts down.

"I want to hear the rest of that," Blake says.

Yang glares at her. "Over my dead body."

Raven manages a few words here and there, apparently much to Yang's enjoyment. She had whispered in the midst of it all how glad she was that Raven wasn't talking.

Until she does, and it's about her job. Blake squirms in her seat when Yang interrupts her.

“Oh, yeah,” she snorts, fork digging into her food. “Did you catch that spider dude yet, Raven ?”

Blake’s head shoots up and instinctively goes towards her, body tensing and mouth dry. Right, Yang watches the news and isn't oblivious to the talk of the city; Raven’s name is said through a bitter tongue.

Tai shoots Yang a look; Blake guesses it’s a tone it down one. Ruby smiles bemusedly into her glass of wine.

“No,” Raven says, seemingly unaffected. “We haven’t caught them yet.”

Blake almost releases a breath.

“But we will. They’re an amateur.”

…and, okay, Blake’s self-esteem and ego isn’t high, not by a long-shot, but calling her an amateur after three months of this?

“They’re clumsy,” Raven isn’t done yet, apparently. “They leave clues… but they’re still dangerous.”

Blake has two options; sit and enjoy the food and let Yang glare daggers towards Raven for the rest of the night or…

“Are they hurting people?” she asks absentmindedly, reaching over for a napkin to fake casualty. Yang looks at her and shrugs while Ruby doesn’t seem like she’s even listening. Tai looks at Raven, as if trusting her judgment and hers only. She stares at Blake with a tilted head, an urge for explanation.

“I mean,” Blake goes on. “I see videos of them and they’re just helping people. A lot of the public are on their side.”

“The public would be wrong,” Raven deadpans, looking her in the eyes before glancing down briefly to cut up a piece of meat on her plate. “If I wanted that spider off the street then they’d already be off the street.”

Blake wants to laugh at that confidence. They’ve tried, oh they have— Blake has the scars to prove it, but they can’t. She’s stronger, faster, more reliable. “So why aren’t they, then?”

Yang chuckles and gives her a sly grin. She might be thinking Blake’s trying to piss Raven off for her but she’s actually curious… a nice bonus to see Yang laugh so openly at someone who hurt her, though.

“Let me educate you,” Raven smiles, condescending and forced. “Spider-Man’s leading us to White Fang members; that’s who they’re targeting the most. It’s called strategy, I’m sure they taught you that word in school?”

Oh… shit. Most of the Fang members are new so they don’t recognize Blake’s voice, sure, but if the cops get their hands on them then it’s bad news. Some of them are good people who were influenced by the wrong words. Blake hums at the clear power play; Raven’s feeling questioned, judged. Tai clears his throat and shoots his… ex, girlfriend, fling, Blake doesn’t know, a light scowl.

Yang grunts, whispers just low enough so Ruby and Blake hear. “I’m pretty sure she’s smarter than you, Raven.”

Blake bites back a laugh, eats a piece before speaking. “Cops still shoot at them, though.”

Raven sets the utensils down a little too forcefully. “You seem to know an awful lot about this case. Do you know something we don’t? Who’s side are you on?”

Blake blinks, taken aback by the clear frustration and anger. She hadn’t expected to rile her up this bad. Her blood boils similarly. “I’m not on anyone’s side. I saw a video on the internet-”

“Oh,” Raven drawls, looks around at the table and back to Blake. “She saw a video on the internet. Case is closed.”

“No,” Blake argues, watching as Tai closes his eyes and sighs deeply while Yang frowns at the direction in conversation. Ruby looks interested now. “I’m just saying, maybe I can get you a link or-”

Raven interrupts her. “On the internet they’re made to look like a hero.”

“I’m not saying they’re a hero -”

“What are you trying to say?”

Yang places a hand on Blake’s knee. Ruby clears her throat. Neither of them back down.

“That they’re helping people,” Blake says. “Something the police can’t do all the time.”

“The police can’t do ? What do you think we do all day? Sit around on our asses and-”

“ Raven ,” Tai says, just as Yang mumbles an exasperated mom .

“I think they stand for what you stand for,” Blake nods. “Protecting people from bad guys.”

“I stand for the law,” Raven leans forward, the scowl permanently tattooed on her face. “I stand by the rules. I wear a badge. They wear a mask like an outlaw. Why are they hiding if they’re so good?”

Blake stays silent. Yang takes one look at her and gets up, chair screeching against friction.

“Let’s get some air, Blake,” she nudges her shoulder. Blake takes one last look around, finds Tai with his eyes in his plate and Ruby with raised eyebrows and a quirk to her lips.

Raven smiles sweetly, eyes crinkling with murder. Blake gets up and takes Yang’s hand. She turns to them; Tai mostly. “Thanks for having me.”

Yang leads her upstairs, dodges all the rooms completely until they reach a hallway with a door to the outside. Once through, Blake takes a deep breath and hangs her head back, closing her eyes. A pretty huge balcony sits with the open night sky, dark and inviting.

“Well…” Yang smirks. “That was something.”

“I’m sorry,” Blake shakes her head, follows Yang to the edge where she hangs her hands off the railing. “I thought she was gonna arrest me at some point.”

"Nah," Yang chuckles. "I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Blake leans in too far across the railing, lets her face dangle below and her feet step on the edge. Yang stares at her, maybe a little too hard.

“Hey, what happened to your face-”

There it is. Blake exhales and pushes herself up, turning to face Yang. “I wanna tell you something.”

“Oh,” Yang perks up with a surprise raise of her eyebrows. She angles her head and reaches her hands around Blake’s hips and sighs, maybe in relief, maybe in anticipation. Blake shivers lightly, the cold doing a number on her despite the two layers of clothing- and jacket. Yang interlaces their fingers and squeezes; body heater, she thinks fondly.

Blake exhales shakily, opens her mouth to speak and finds no words coming out. This had been a strain on their relationship ever since it happened. Blake needs it gone.

“I got bitten…” she can’t continue, can’t properly say or come up with the words. Her throat closes up. “I..um… my life changed three months ago.”

The start of the semester. Yang looks at her lips, eyes drooped and expression open. She’s soft. It’s all so soft. “Mine, too.”

There’s nothing wrong. Yang wants her for some reason. She wants Yang so badly it physically hurts sometimes. (Swinging into the side of a building and crushing her ribs thinking about Yang’s smile and her dimples and her eyes and-)

Blake owes her this. She leans back far enough so Yang’s breath doesn’t brush her lips to distract. “I need to say this thing…”

Yang nods her head frantically, bites her lips and waits. Her eyes never leave Blake’s face- mouth- soul.

“About the vigilante,” coward, can’t even say Spider-Man; coward, can't even kiss the girl. 

“Oh,” Yang freezes and leans back, hands retreating. Blake misses the warmth. “Oh… okay.”

Shit.

“No, no,” she backtracks, cups Yang’s cheek and tilts her head towards her. “Forget it, I won’t talk about that- I don’t care- I’m gonna talk about me, okay?”

Yang follows her example, frown forming at her obvious distress. She thumbs her upper lip. “What about you?”

“I just,” she stutters, begs herself to just speak. “I wish I could just say… ugh .”

Her arms flop to her side in frustration, groans resounding from the depths of her body. Yang, apparently tired at the lack of words, inhales. “Just say it.”

“I don’t know,” Blake whispers numbly, turns her head around and lets go of Yang. leaning on the railing once again. Her safe space. She could run if she wanted.

“Say it,” Yang mumbles softly.

Blake looks up, eyes shining with anxiety, stress and confliction. Yang places a hand on her shoulder and looks over. “What?”

Blake hums, a sound that comes out of a strangled whimper. Yang squeezes her arm. “Blake… What?”

She glances up, finds gentle and worried eyes— can’t stand the looks of them for the first time. Always so patient. Always so kind. She shakes her head aggressively and looks back down.

"Fine," Yang mutters, pushes herself off the railing and stands straight. "Just forget it," heads back to the door. Yang's walking away. She's walking away. 

A split second decision to be made, one that will make or break everything— jeopardize her identity and all she's worked for these past few months... Blake doesn't care because Yang's walking away. She turns around and activates gambol in her direction, making sure to aim down towards her hand rather than anywhere it can potentially hit her and harm. 

The web shoots out and catches her wrist, looping around it twice. Yang turns ever so slowly; that's fine, Blake can do it for her. She yanks her own hand towards her hips and Yang comes barreling into her unsteadily, face stretched in pure shock.

She gasps, broken and quiet as if it got stuck in her throat halfway into coming out. Blake stares at her lips and nothing else.

"You-" Yang looks down after the five seconds of wide eyes and dropped jaw. "You....you're… you-"

Blake shushes her and surges onto her tiptoes, presses their lips together without hesitation. There is a sense of rightness and familiarity beneath the rush of adrenaline and the frenzy of lips, hands, and flesh. It appears as though Blake has traveled this route before and is familiar with every bend in the road as well as its destination.

Despite the confusion, shock and multitude of questions Blake's going to have to answer, Yang doesn't stop her. Reciprocates without hesitation.

She feels like she's kissed those lips before, the amount of comfort she feels by the warmth of their breaths meeting. She shudders as she feels Yang's fingertips poke her flesh. Her imagination was unable to prepare her for how wonderful it felt. Blake could feel Yang's body vibrating in sync with her own as her lips gently caressed hers.

Yang pulls away for a brief intermission of breath but Blake goes to pull her back in. She's already addicted, doesn't know how to pull away. Yang doesn't complain, instead mumbles the words into her lips.

"You're Spider-Man," she whispers, dumbfounded. Blake exhales and opens her mouth to suck on Yang's bottom lip, teeth grazing lightly. Yang groans deep in her throat, kisses her back with fervor and newfound determination, as if she had just woken up from the shock of the discovery. Her hands finally move, wrapping them around Blake's shoulders and pulling her up and impossibly closer as her own hands reach up to tangle in Yang's hair.

I like it when it's you .

There's sirens ahead, she notices numbly, doesn't know what sounds are beyond the ones coming from Yang's mouth. Until-

"Yang," someone says, and it's over. The world comes back in full view and they quickly jump apart. Blake turns to the door and finds Ruby with her eyes averted and cheeks flushed, arms crossed.

"Uh," Yang says, looking at Blake for help and back at her sister. "Yes?"

Ruby looks back up and sighs when she finds they've pulled apart. The sirens get louder and Blake spots a police car racing to the city, several others following. Her head swivels around slowly; Raven's car is pulling out.

"Dad's asking for you," she says, voice small, as if she didn't know what to make of what happened down there. Blake doesn't blame her, she wouldn't be surprised if she was never invited over again.

"Yeah," she says, stepping away from Blake and to the stairs. "Okay."

Ruby nods once and leaves. Blake looks down again, reaches into her suit to grab her phone and tap into the radio. She hears several shouts, a few patient calls and the next one she switches to makes her heart stop.

Fire. Bridge.

She climbs over the railing, places her feet firmly on the other side and turns back around to Yang, exhaling deeply. Yang's hair is flowing in the wind, messy from Blake's hands and lips full, looking at her with interest and eyes twinkling with something. She knows it now. She knows everything now.

Blake jumps.

-

Yang watches as Blake leaps and her heart stops, throat constricting and trying to bite back a scream. Blake has superpowers, Blake won't die from a simple fall, Blake can't fall because-

She hears the web before she even sees the flash of a figure jumping off a tree. The mask's already on and she's in the midst of taking her clothes off in the air. It's quick, too quick for eyes.

Yang whispers to nobody in the open air. No one's here to see this moment, nothing except the stars and the open air of something new. "Oh, I'm in trouble."