Work Text:
[Pyrrha off work, staring out windows with her arms crossed]
Yang approaches, coffee in hand. "You okay?" She looks outside. "Waiting for someone?"
Pyrrha smiles weakly. "Waiting for the rain to stop. Or for me to get the nerve to go out there."
Yang frowns, then brightens. She hurries back to the table and comes back with her umbrella. "Here. Ruby insisted I take this today. She won't mind if you borrow it." She holds the umbrella out expectantly.
Pyrrha's eyes widen. "But what about you? You'll be soaked!"
Yang shrugs and smiles. It's warm and borders on a smirk. "Nah, I've got my jacket." She waves the umbrella around with a raised eyebrow. "So?"
Pyrrha wavers, looking at Yang, then the umbrella, then the windows. "I couldn't," she says softly. Yang hadn't noticed Pyrrha's shoulders lose their tension until it was back. Yang realizes Pyrrha's arms aren't crossed - Pyrrha is hugging herself.
Yang puts her coffee and umbrella down, shrugs off her jacket. Pyrrha is already shaking her head by the time Yang holds the jacket out. Yang sighs softly. "Let me walk you out at least?"
Again Pyrrha waves and Yang thinks she'll say no. But Pyrrha gives a tiny nod and Yang beams . She hurries to put on her jacket, cursing when it gets stuck on her arm, then grabs her coffee and the umbrella. "Ready?" Yang asks breathlessly.
"I should be asking you that," Pyrrha teases gently, then opens the door and waits for Yang to leave.
Yang can't help smiling as she exits the shop, opens the umbrella, and turns to face Pyrrha. Droplets glimmer on Pyrrha's eyelashes from just the brief dash under cover. The rain beats a staccato rhythm over them, accenting Yang's question of "Where to?"
"Just the bike rack," Pyrrha replies.
Yang shoots her a look. "You biked in this weather?"
"It was beautiful this morning!" Pyrrha protests, then winces. "Er, sorry."
Yang shrugs. "Don't worry about it, I can walk you back."
Pyrrha frowns at Yang. "It's a 30-minute ride."
"Good exercise!" Yang replies.
Pyrrha shakes her head and kneels to unlock her bike. "Really, Yang, you don't have to -"
"I want to," Yang interrupts. She's so earnest, framed by the early orange streetlight and her frizzy mane of hair. Pyrrha doesn't have the heart to argue. Not when she does appreciate the offer, when she would like the company, when her daydreams have one of Yang's holding hers.
"Okay," Pyrrha murmurs. She stands and –
Yang had moved closer while she was kneeling so Pyrrha would stay dry. Yang has been in the anatomy lab; she can tell by the stale air and heavy sanitizer smell; her lips are dry and her pupils are blown. Pyrrha wonders in that moment if it's from the low light in the grey evening or their proximity.
Pyrrha doesn't move. She has always been too curious.
Yang breaks first.
"Which way?" she asks and clears her throat when her voice cracks.
"East," Pyrrha replies, her voice soft in return. She is fascinated by the dusky rose underneath Yang's tawny cheeks.
Yang's nod is jerky and Pyrrha finally finds the wherewithal to draw away, back into herself, and watches the sidewalk carefully as the bike rolls over cracks and reeds. Her hands grow wet and cold out of the protection of the umbrella and Yang's body heat.
Yang chugs the last of her coffee - surely cold by now - and chucks it into a trashcan. A smile creases her eyes in victory before she remembers she has an audience and embarrassment creeps in. Yang looks away to study the other people on their commutes. Pyrrha is terribly fond.
For a block there is only the sound of wet wheels on pavement, shoes on concrete, and self-conscious breathing.
"This is nice," Pyrrha announces suddenly. She looks at Yang from the corner of her eye and smiles at the surprise written all over Yang's body language. "Thank you."
"Yeah, of course," Yang stammers. Her blush had never really faded between the bike rack, coffee-cup-turned-basketball, and now sincere thanks. Pyrrha watches the pink spread to Yang's ears.
"This is not an 'of course' for everyone, Yang," Pyrrha corrects gently. "And I am grateful to you for it."
Yang opens her mouth to say something, probably a protest, before only muttering, "No problem."
Pyrrha smiles in contentment - and maybe a little in vindication - and takes the time to look up as they walk. The umbrella takes up most of her vision, but past the brim she sees apartments with banners hanging limply in the rain, the soil in plant containers is rich and dark, and lights are turning on with the deepening of dusk.
Pyrrha doesn't have to be constantly watching and alert, now, not with Yang's solid presence at her side. Yang nudges the two of them away from the street to avoid a car puddle splash. Yang's boots darken with water but Pyrrha is dry. She watches Yang and wonders what it is about her that makes Pyrrha feel so safe when Pyrrha herself is no easy target.
Maybe it's because Yang cares and protects because that is who she is. She doesn't protect because someone is weaker, lesser, or more fragile -- she protects because everyone deserves someone who can take the hits and keep standing up.
Pyrrha bumps Yang's arm with her elbow and adds a friendly smile. "So what do you do when you aren't rescuing maidens from the rain?"
Their arms brush again as Yang tucks her hair behind her ear. "Studying, mostly," Yang admits with a depreciating laugh. She must notice Pyrrha's frown and hurries to add, "It's not a problem! I have time to walk you, don't worry."
Pyrrha hums noncommittally but nods anyway. Yang obviously scrambles for a way to change the subject and brightens with an idea. "We talk about our classes all the time, but what about hobbies? What do you do for fun?"
Pyrrha hums as she thinks and tilts her head to the side. She shivers as her hair brushes over her neck with the movement and wind. "Movies, mostly," Pyrrha replies.
"What kind?" Yang asks.
Pyrrha can feel her face flush for the first time today. "Uh... any really."
Yang, ever the older sibling, can sense a poorly hidden secret across oceans. Her mischievous grin makes Pyrrha's heart race in nervousness and anticipation. "Any?" Yang repeats gleefully.
"Well, not slapstick," Pyrrha admits. "I'm always afraid someone is actually going to get hurt."
"Of course you are," Yang says, and when Pyrrha risks a glance over Yang is smiling so gently Pyrrha's chest aches.
"But you still didn't tell me your favorite," Yang teases.
Pyrrha groans. "You're going to make fun of me."
Yang shrugs. "Maybe. It just means I like you." Yang looks at Pyrrha quickly and then away; Pyrrha watches the pink on Yang's cheeks and the tightening of Yang's grip on the umbrella.
"I guess I can tell you then," Pyrrha says more gently than she intended. Yang's shoulders relax even as that terrible, wonderful grin returns. "I love mockumentaries. They're just -- they're so funny and sometimes you learn things on accident, and satire is such a fun genre and really interesting to analyze, and --"
That only lasts as long as it takes Yang to cup Pyrrha's cheek very slowly. Gently, glacially, Yang tilts Pyrrha's face so that they are making eye contact. Yang doesn't say anything, though. Just rubs her thumb gently across Pyrrha's cheekbone and watches her. Pyrrha's eyes fall closed and she feels like she can take her first deep breath.
Then someone pushes past them and Pyrrha remembers they are in the middle of the sidewalk. Which is why Pyrrha did not kiss Yang. And now she has missed her chance.
Pyrrha glances at Yang and Yang smiles sheepishly back. "We should keep going," Yang says.
Pyrrha shakes her head and says before Yang can look too disappointed, "This is my block. I can go from here."
"Ah, okay. You sure? Do you want my jacket?" Yang drops her hand from Pyrrha's face to start trying to take off the garment again and then pauses when she realizes it's going to be an adventure with her prosthetic grip.
"It's alright," Pyrrha says, reaching out to touch both of Yang's hands. "I won't be out in the rain long."
"If you're sure," Yang says. Her forehead creases but she doesn't argue.
"Stay safe on the walk home," Pyrrha says.
"People don't normally mess with me, I'll be alright," Yang reassures her. Pyrrha glances at Yang's prosthetic and back. "Hey, I said people, not cars!" Yang laughs.
Pyrrha giggles - actually giggles . "Of course, of course," she agrees.
"See you tomorrow?" Yang asks. Her chin dips shyly and her voice is soft.
"I look forward to it," Pyrrha replies in kind. "Bye Yang."
"Bye, Pyrrha," Yang echoes. Pyrrha pulls herself away from the warm space they had created and plunges into the cold rain. Still, some embers remained in her chest when she thought about the two of them for the rest of the night.