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“Do people even use mistletoe?”
Cinder finally jammed the pin into the stem of said mistletoe and turned around on her stepstool to glare at Mercury. “They do now.”
He was sitting splayed out on the couch, doing nothing to help Ruby and her friends with the decorations, which was to be expected of him. She was still disappointed. Especially with him offering commentary. She had a good plan.
“Isn’t it like only in movies and stuff?”
“Sometimes movies are like real life,” Cinder said slowly.
“Yeah but, what if we meet under the mistletoe.”
“That’s not happening,” she said. “You can just keep walking.”
“But why are you putting it up.”
“Where is Emerald?” she snapped in frustration. “Go find her and annoy her instead. I don’t need your advice.”
“Oh, wait, is this a Jaune thing?”
She stepped down from the stool and deliberated where to go next. Ruby and her friends’ sharehouse was borderline messy, but they had cleaned up for the solstice party and now things were near enough to cosy with the decorations. She could hear Yang singing with Weiss in the kitchen and Blake was trying to wrangle the lights for the tree with Ruby and Oscar. Jaune was, thankfully, not back yet.
“A Jaune thing?” Ruby said from the tree. Oscar supplied her another bauble.
Mercury nodded sagely at her. “Oh, yeah. A Jaune thing. You know about the Jaune thing?”
“Which Jaune thing,” Blake tried.
Cinder onlooked the conversation with a mild sense of disaster. She said, “What Jaune thing, Mercury?”
“The Pyrrha-Jaune thing or the…” Blake said, and then darted her gaze at Cinder quickly then away, “or the… um…” then she suppressed a giggle.
“Oh, the Pyrrha-Jaune thing, that’s interesting,” Mercury said. “Wow. Say, Cinder, what’s your opinion of the Pyrrha-Jaune thing?”
“My opinion’s that you’ve been hanging around here too long and got comfortable. Isn’t there something for you to do?”
“I’m offering relationship advice,” he said.
She glared at him, but it had no effect on him anymore. When did she get so defanged anyway. It was sometime between Ruby dragging her into proximity and then Jaune finishing the job by inviting her to their parties and beach-trips, and, well, what else: he seemed to imprint on her, and she him, the first time they met at one of Ruby’s birthday parties.
Anyway, Cinder had a plan, and it was going to work. She even got him for the gift-giving exchange, so basically nothing could go wrong. If she had one job, she was going to make him happy. She had hoped long ago he would get the idea she did not belong here, but it had not seemed to work, and he deserved… something nice.
“So when we do eat?” Mercury asked, letting Cinder accept her defeat with grace.
Not that she had really lost, but whatever. Mercury liked pretending he won at stuff, especially so he could brag to Emerald later about how he got one over Cinder about her unspoken feelings he presumed that she had. Her chest hurt sometimes. But it was like what she had overheard Pyrrha say: you have to get over the person you projected your feelings onto because nobody had ever been this kind to you before, and find somebody who wanted you just as much as you wanted them. So Cinder had a plan. Pyrrha had obviously been trying to tell her something. Otherwise why would she say it so Cinder could hear?
Cinder then heard Ruby say, “I think we can’t start until Nora gets back." She was fixated on braiding the lights around the tree as Blake got knotted up in the remaining wire.
“Oh, right, Nora, Ren, Pyrrha… Jaune…” Mercury raised his brows at Cinder.
Cinder left and went to secure mistletoe to the hall’s entryway. It was a mean spot, but if she had any chance of this working she had to play meanly. The doorframe was being belligerent and that was when she heard the others get back. They looked like marshmallows in their puffy jackets. They brought in snow and chattered to themselves, carrying more food (for Nora) and other requisite celebratory supplies, and Cinder watched them for just a brief moment before she went back to securing the prize.
“Is that mistletoe?” Jaune asked.
She did not pay him attention, not any, just said, “Yes.”
“Does it count yet?”
Well, at that she had to look at him. “It’s not technically secured.”
He slipped past her and said, “That’s a shame.”
She stared at the back of his pretty head. What was he even implying. Pyrrha walked past, politely nodding at her, and Nora and Ren traipsed through sing-songing about this or that they had found.
Cinder cautiously made her way back around to where the festivities were taking place. Mercury was now enraptured with the snowdrift, and at least Emerald was helping distract him now. She only hoped he stopped teasing her. She had really wanted to avoid them for as long as she could, she did, since they had been roommates and they had both seen her have a nervous breakdown, but she had to confront them since that first party. So now it was fine enough.
Most of them seemed to tolerate her. Like Blake, who even tried to talk to her awkwardly and get her to help putting baubles on, or like Ruby, who talked at her about her superhero comics for a good handful of minutes before she had to ask who the character she was talking about was again, and then Ruby spent another ten minutes explaining the backstory of said character, and then Weiss eventually interjected that she didn’t even get the point of comics anyway, and then they got into a row over comic books. So Cinder seemed to be tolerated, at a minimum. She generally felt like an interloper.
Well, there was one time she had not. She had been hesitating after arriving at Ruby’s house that night of the party. She had been on the porch for who knows how long, where it was dark and the light had been off. She could hear the bass thumping from some really loud music Yang must have put on, that she knew now upon reflection, and then the door had opened and she was caught in her moment of indecision. It was him. He had just invited her in, and commented that they matched, he dressed as a knight and she as a Maiden, not that she thought anybody would know since it was just a fairytale. But he had.
So, he was stuck with her, for good or ill, and Cinder was used to wanting for too much. It was like her adopted mother always said: wanting bred expectation, expectation bred disappointment. She sat down on the leather couch covered in brightly coloured quilts (Summer had a quilting phase, apparently, when the girls were babies) and waited to do her dark bidding.
She watched them all quietly and carefully, Jaune mucking around with Ruby and helping her finish out the tree, him occasionally sending Cinder glances like he was going to try socialising her soon (which she shook her head at him for), and then eventually there was the golden moment: Pyrrha, with her red ponytail flouncing behind her, had come from the kitchen bearing a biscuit in one hand and a napkin in the other, and Jaune had been going for one, probably, certainly not to check on the oven.
Cinder gripped her knee. It was so simple it was going to work. Mercury had sort of gestured at it but everybody knew the Pyrrha-Jaune thing, which was that Pyrrha had been pining for however long for Jaune (as long as Cinder knew them), and they were all going to get together. So Cinder tore off the band-aid.
Two birds, one stone. Or two… infatuations, one mistletoe might have been more accurate. If they were together, then he was off-limits forever, even after they broke up, based on what she had heard Blake saying about girl-code. Three birds, one stone, really, because Cinder, slumped in her seat and accepting her fate with grace, unfortunately wanted him to be happy, because he was endearingly stubborn and kind yet mean, too, in just the way she liked. Like Pyrrha had said. She had just imprinted. It would go away.
It was like her mother had said, too.
She had been prepared for the worst and nearly shouted, “Oh, come on!” when Jaune looked up at the mistletoe and laughed. Then he reached out to hug Pyrrha and they were both laughing.
“Mistletoe hug!” he said. “Now that’s a tradition I can get behind.”
Cinder crossed her arms in want of otherwise expressing her annoyance. She had not accounted for that. It was mistletoe. They were supposed to kiss.
“What are you grouching about?” Emerald asked, knocking her foot with hers.
Cinder removed her feet away from her. “None of your business.”
Mercury came up beside her and stage-whispered, “It’s the Jaune-Pyrrha thing.”
“Oooooh,” Emerald said. “I see. Right.” She turned around to inspect the scene, then turned back to Mercury. “Cinder’s trying to set them up.”
“What?” he said.
“She’s grouching because they didn’t kiss, didn’t you see?”
“Would you two stop,” Cinder grumbled. She only hoped the others did not overhear. At least on the east end of the living room they were separated from the others over at the window hanging by the tree. Cinder had to think about it strategically.
“I told you, mistletoe doesn’t work like that,” Mercury said wisely.
“I’m not doubting Cinder’s plan, I just think—”
“No, doubt her plan, why’s she trying to set them up? I thought she was the one into—”
“I said stop!” Cinder hissed.
Not that she did not deserve him being mean, since they were barely friends, but still.
The two of them shared a look and rolled their eyes, before Emerald sent her sympathy. At least it was hard to take Mercury as seriously as usual, considering the jumper he was wearing. It would have been cute on anybody else, but on him it just looked like a serial killer trying to blend in with normal people at a party. Cinder was at least dressed sort of normally. She just had on a red jumper dress and kitten heels. The only other person in the room who could pull off red was Ruby, though she made an allowance for Jaune since the t-shirt he was wearing with the cartoon reindeer was pretty cute.
So, that was her first attempt out of the way. But the next part would have to work. They all gathered around the couch, some on the floor, Cinder trying desperately not to let her knee touch Jaune beside her— warm and too close— and they took turns reaching for presents with their names on them. It was just a friendly pre-solstice thing. At least Cinder had this one thing to do for the holiday, and then she could be alone for the rest of it.
“Aw, yeah! A drill set!” Yang exclaimed.
Weiss’ smug expression meant she was the one to pick it, though Cinder also knew because Weiss needed help figuring out what to get Yang from the hardware store. “Like… does she like… screws?” she had tried, and then Cinder had explained power tools to her, and the guy helping them had been confused at Weiss, dressed for lunch with Winter in her finest cashmere and dress pants, asking about the difference between this brand and that brand, and then Cinder had mostly watched on in amusement.
“I helped her with that one,” Cinder said to Jaune quietly, so no one else heard her spoiling it.
“Of course you did,” he muttered.
Cinder patiently awaited the others to pick theirs, though she had to bite down the need to grab for hers first. Her knee knocked against Jaune’s once or twice, and she had to keep dragging herself away every time she let it linger. Who lost their mind over knees touching. She did, apparently.
The one she was more worried about was Jaune’s. He took his time carefully untying the bow, and then peeling back the wrapping paper so as to not rip it, like it mattered if it did. She tried not to watch his hands, but they were so pretty. At least she hoped this part of the plan worked. She imitated interest as well as practised ease so her reaction to his present was not studied.
“Tickets?” he said, then looking closer, she heard him exhale a little oh.
“What for?” Pyrrha asked.
“Ooh, maybe that Grimm showing at the Vale Museum,” Nora said. “Ren, you have to buy me tickets to the Grimm.”
“It’s, um, for my favourite band. At New Year’s,” Jaune said, more to himself than to Pyrrha. “There are two tickets.”
Cinder swallowed down her pride, unlike Weiss. See, she wanted to say, now you have to take Pyrrha and have a New Year’s kiss. Cinder loved winning. It was so easy to get over him now she had a goal in mind.
Then he furrowed his brow at the little Scroll receiver plug, which had a note attached. It was a mixtape, of course, she knew, because he was not overly one for sweets (which would have been an easy side-gift, if the tickets did not land well), but from his guitar playing he seemed to like music an awful lot, especially for all the concerts they two had been to here and there. Only local and only small, and never a big deal, but there it was. Cinder won at gift-giving, too.
He swallowed and his throat bobbed. He had a long, delicate neck, and she knew there was a mole behind his ear if she brushed his hair aside. She wanted to write a list of things Pyrrha should know about Jaune. It had always been said to her that nobody loved her and nobody ever would, as matter of fact as anything else, and there were few things in life Cinder really wanted. But she could love a little, and she was pretty good at noticing things. She wanted to tell Pyrrha to make sure to kiss his mole. And to listen to the music he liked. And to go with him to the concert. And to tell him to keep his hair long. Well, that was more for Cinder than Pyrrha. So, she was still a little selfish.
“Are you going to grab yours?” Jaune said, talking to his lap, but speaking to her.
Cinder hovered by the blinking tree briefly as she searched for hers. There were two, one small enough to fit in her palm, and the other, when shook, was clearly a box of chocolates.
“Someone knows your sweet tooth,” he said from the couch, resting his hand against his jaw, his elbow on his knee. He looked like some sort of a statue-esque angel, which was distressingly fitting for the season.
“Easiest person to get presents for ever,” Ruby added.
“I think I’m supposed to pretend I don’t know what it is,” Cinder said. She ripped it open and there it was. Her favourite chocolates. Well, she had not known they were her favourite until she received them, because this meant the secret gift-giver had paid attention, known before she knew.
The other box was mysterious. There had been a price limit they had all agreed upon, and it was enough to get Yang something fancy and potentially dangerous as well as high-powered, and it was not like Cinder had any family to give presents to, so she put her all into Jaune’s. That was easy. But this was so small it had to be expensive. She tossed the wrapping paper aside and scrutinised the little navy blue velvet jewellery case. When she opened it, there was a pendant. It was a conch shell with a pearl inside, a chain attached. Her cheeks heated. This person knew her very well.
She always admired the finery her adopted mother had worn. It was never hers, but the only time she witnessed her with any measure of peace was when she was in her boudoir, putting on or taking off her jewellery, and spritzing herself with rosewater. That would be when Cinder would wonder why she had to be so cruel with her. Not when she was kind with the sisters. More because she wondered why they could not share in something they both loved. The sisters did not value her makeup, and her perfume, and the nice heels she wore, and they ruined their dresses. Cinder would have looked after them.
Then her mother would break the fragile moment and snap at her and slam the door in her face. But Cinder always wanted the finery. Not that she could afford it, given most of them were students, but it was just a simple little pendant. She realised it had been quiet until she picked up the chain and went to try and clasp it at her neck, then she got up and left to go find a mirror. There was a fine, ornate one Blake had found on the side of the road propped up in the entryway. She still could not get it, and huffed to herself. So much for long nails.
“Need a hand?” she heard from behind her, Jaune approaching in the mirror.
“I have two,” she said smartly.
He smiled softly at her, so she had to look away. He came closer and said, “Let me.”
He pulled her hair up gently for her to hold it aside, and she watched the floor steadily, pursing her lips. She looked back up anyway. He took the clasp from her, and with his tongue poking out, fastened the clasp with ease. His fingers were hot against her skin. How could he just touch her and set her on fire.
When she caught him in the mirror, his eyes were downcast at her. When she got lucky, like on a snowy day like this, they were nearly black, so dark blue they were. She cleared her throat and stepped to the side, out of the mirror’s snare.
“They’ve got good taste,” he said.
She fiddled with the pendant and tried to ignore him. He was always running to help. She gestured with her head to go back, and she was moving ahead of him until he caught her wrist in his large hand. She turned, confused. Then she noticed the mistletoe. Well. That was a ruin of her own making.
“I know you don’t like hugs…” he started.
“I like your hugs,” she said shortly.
“Well, in that case,” he continued, and outstretched his arms and pulled her towards him.
She folded her arms together and let him hug her. He liked hugging everybody else. He was just affectionate. She could just bask in it a little bit and let him have it. She was mildly annoyed the mistletoe had worked on them though. This was sort of defeating the point of her plan. Like, the two infatuations, one mistletoe plan. He was always causing such trouble for her. It was mostly his fault, anyway. If he and Pyrrha had got their act together sooner, then she would have kept away from him. What did there need to be to make them kiss? Imminent disaster?
Cinder would not go that far. Well. Maybe in extreme circumstances.
“What are you stewing about?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said into his chest, muffled.
“No, you’ve got your brooding on. What is it?”
You’re ruining my well-laid plans, she wanted to say.
That was when the holiday-themed music changed to one of Weiss’ songs she released when she was a teenager. There was a whole story about her father, a contract she was stuck in for two years, and a charity album she had to work on and release for the holidays. Ruby always played it just to mess with her. Apparently Ruby even liked it, which at least made Weiss shriek less.
“Poor Weiss,” Jaune said.
Cinder laughed, sort of meanly.
“See, there it is. I made you laugh.”
She did the right thing and pulled away, as much she wanted to stay. “I don’t think it counts. It’s more Ruby.”
“What, are you keeping tally?”
“Just to spite you,” she said over her shoulder. She returned to find Weiss sitting in the corner with her arms crossed, whilst Blake mediated a dispute between her and Ruby. At least they were a little dysfunctional at times. It made Cinder feel better. It seemed to make Emerald and Mercury feel better, too, if she knew that gleeful look they both had on.
“What’s a winter solstice party without a fight?” Jaune said.
Cinder shrugged. “They happen often?”
“I think it’s weirder if you don’t have one.”
“I think that’s just your family,” Pyrrha said. “Then again, we know what yours is like, Jaune.”
“It’s basically impossible to maintain the peace amongst my sisters, okay. Especially once Sapphron and I moved out and we got normal.”
“Normal,” Cinder mouthed behind him, with finger-quotes.
That at least made Ren and Nora laugh, which was an unusual thing, and Jaune turned around to shoot her a look of betrayal.
“What are you saying about me,” he asked flatly, huffing.
“I was just providing commentary.”
She fiddled with her pendant again. The conch shell had smooth edges. His gaze flicked to where her fingers were and then back up at her, and then he just smiled, like he knew something she did not.
“So Jaune,” Nora said, close enough to sly from her, “who’re you taking with those tickets?”
That got him away from Cinder, at least, because he went over to sit with them, so she was free from the way he looked at her.
“It’s one of those bands he likes,” Ren said. “Is there anybody who would go with you, other than Cinder?”
She furrowed her brow. Well, this was not going how she planned either.
“Oh, is this about Jaune’s present?” Weiss said, joining the conversation. “I didn’t really get the guitar thing until I heard the stuff you listen to.”
“Your playing is very… nice,” Pyrrha said, strained.
Jaune was sitting there with his head hanging over the back of the couch. He looked like he did not want to be there.
Cinder understood the feeling, just not why he was feeling it. “I like your playing,” she said.
He groaned.
“What,” she said blankly, when they were all looking at her. “You learned that song for my birthday.”
He groaned again.
Cinder crossed her arms and surveyed them all. What was the big deal anyway. She heard Blake nervously laugh and say, “What are everybody’s plans for the holiday?”
That started off Weiss complaining about her father, and her mother coming out of the woodwork and wanting to host a proper celebration; Yang interjected that Raven was coming to visit, even, and Qrow had been stressed about it for weeks, plus Blake was meeting her properly; Ruby mentioned her mother already had a menu prepared ahead by a months’ time and Oscar was coming after he visited his aunt, along with Penny; Ren and Nora were going to dip in at Pyrrha’s parents, who didn't celebrate but were having them over just for the morning, before they went with Emerald and Mercury to go see Neo and Roman, the latter of whom had apparently taken up baking after his multi-level-marketing scheme petered out— Cinder thought it was kind of stupid and vaguely immoral; then she tuned properly in to listen to Jaune regaling them all with how many of his family members were going to be home, and what a show it was going to be.
Of course, Cinder had no family and never visited anybody for the holidays, so she kept her mouth shut. She was so quiet she was sure nobody noticed her, where she had taken up residence in the corner armchair, silently watching the snow. She hated the snow back in Atlas. The heating would never stay on in her room, and she would shiver under the few blankets she had. It was the strangest kind of cruelty, because who turned the heating off in the winter? It sounded like she was making it up. So she never told anybody.
Well, of course Jaune sort of knew, if only because he seemed to forgive her when she flinched at raised hands and loud noises.
“What about you, Cinder?” Ruby asked her sweetly.
“I'm not doing anything,” Cinder said.
“You’re here now!”
“You strongarmed me into it.”
“You don’t have family to go see?” Blake tried.
Considering there were five other people in the room without parents, it was not a cruel question, because they were used to that sort of thing. Cinder really had no excuse for being so cagey. She just shrugged in response. It was only a big deal if they made it a big deal.
She made the mistake of looking over at Jaune, who had that expression he got when he had a good idea. It was as equally attractive as it was dangerous, because whatever he was cooking up was trouble.
“Cinder,” he started.
She said, “No.”
“I didn’t even ask you anything.”
She did not reply.
“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked anyway.
She sighed. “No pity invites.”
“It’s not a pity invite, you know my house is big enough one extra head won’t make a difference.”
She was half-angry because she was embarrassed, half-angry because it defeated the whole point of what she was angling for. He was supposed to be caught under the mistletoe with Pyrrha and kiss her! He was supposed to leave Cinder alone! She ground her jaw. What trouble indeed.
She hoped he got the idea that she was not meant to be near him. Once he had gone quiet and she had returned to peering out the window at the snowy garden, fat snowflakes reflecting a sharp glow, she felt satisfied. She did not even need to fight him much to get him to leave her alone. Well, so she thought, until she checked on him and found him wandering around near the kitchen on his Scroll, evidently talking to his mother.
“Yes, mom, Cinder’s got nowhere to go— I know, I told her that, but she— yes, I’ll tell her. I know! Um… small?” He held the Scroll away from his face. “My parents say you can come by the way. She’s insulted I called and asked.”
Cinder did her best to glare at him.
“Well you don’t have to come if you really don’t want to, but…”
“Obviously I have to go now because you cheated and involved your mother.”
“I’m not above cheating,” he said cleverly.
She shook her head at him. “Tell your mother that.”
He laughed, coy. At least someone was finding humour in it. So Cinder had to adjust her expectations. Maybe she had to just… tell him. She could do that. Everybody was sick of him and Pyrrha, right. That was what Mercury was talking about earlier. Cinder was only trying to expedite the process.
Pyrrha cast her a look. Cinder did not know the meaning of it, but it was probably something to do with the fact she was going home for the winter solstice with her would-be boyfriend. Cinder wanted to tell her that she had taken the right lesson away from what she had said, but that would admitting to her Jaune-quagmire, which was the last thing she wanted to do with her of all people. She was so congenial otherwise. Cinder sort of hated her, and then found she sort of did not.
“So much for that plan, huh,” Mercury said.
“What plan,” Cinder drawled, acting none the wiser.
He just smirked and sat back against the wall with his hands behind his head. She was so annoyed. Jaune seemed smug and satisfied, and that was worst of all, if only because he had got one up over her. Hopefully he took Pyrrha to that New Year’s concert. That would make her life easier.
“Hey, Cinder?”
Cinder looked up at Ruby.
“We didn’t pity invite you either,” she said, with a smile. Oscar beside her was nodding along. "We like you!"
That made life more difficult. Cinder was afraid.
*
“Now, if you’re overwhelmed, you can leave whenever you want,” Jaune said, recanting his earlier determination to get her here. If anything, the more they neared his house, the more uncertain he sounded.
“You dragged me into this. You’re seeing it through,” said Cinder. She tapped her boots of excess snow and waited with him for somebody to answer the door.
“I just didn’t want you to be alone,” he muttered.
“Or did you want somebody on your side against your sisters?”
“Maybe that too.”
That was when his mother answered the door. Sapphron seemed to be the most like her, with her wavy hair, but her clothing taste she shared with her son, based on the reindeers. She dragged Jaune into a hug saying, “And the prodigal son returns home!”
Cinder smirked. At least she was going to have a little fun. Then Jaune’s mother hugged her too and she stood there awkwardly, eventually bringing a hand up to pat her on the back. She smelt like patchouli.
Jaune’s mother led them in and they took their boots off, and Cinder drank in the house: it looked well-lived in, and every surface was covered in tinsel, or tiny miniature animals, and there were two trees, and red and green lights everywhere. It was all old-looking, but it was cosy. Cinder had never been in a home like this before.
“… and Jaune, I’ve got your room set up upstairs, and I know Cinder may or may not be staying over but I’ve got the room set up for her too, and… well there’s a little surprise for you two up there… your sisters are in the lounge room and if you don’t go say hello there’ll be words… Sapphy’s out the back with Terra and Adrian…”
Jaune smiled at Cinder. “At least the sister I like is here.”
“Jaune!” his mother said, smacking his arm. “You love all your sisters!”
“I love all my sisters,” Jaune agreed, heading up the stairs.
“He turns into a right teenager the minute he steps into the house.”
Cinder snorted. “He’s always like this.”
“I’m so sorry, darling. You best make him behave.”
She furrowed her brow. She was pretty sure it was the other way around, if anything, but she nodded seriously and then followed Jaune up the carpeted stairs. Even the stairs felt comfortable. How odd. He knew the way to his room because it was his home, but she had never been here before, so stared at all the family portraits (portraits?) and the strangely kitsch artwork hanging up (signed by an Arc – someone in the family painted), then she caught up to him to the room at the end of the hallway, with a bracketed ceiling, and a big view of the yard. It was a house big enough for eight children, that was for sure.
It was still the room of a teenager, judging by the posters on the wall, and there was an old dusty guitar in the corner, and the double bed in the corner had been freshly made by his mother. The doona cover at least looked warm. She went to go sit on the bed when she noticed two presents.
“I have a feeling what those might be,” he said.
“Well, open them then.”
So they did, Cinder treating it like it was a bomb and if she ripped the wrong part it would explode. Inside was a pair of pyjamas. With little snowmen and squirrels in blue.
Jaune was covering his face.
“What,” she tried. “They’re just matching pyjamas.”
“My mom got us matching pyjamas.”
“Such drama,” she chastised, shaking her head.
“You don’t mind?”
“It’s… cute,” she said, testing the word.
He sighed and brushed her hair behind her ear. “Do you wanna go meet Sapph and Terra?”
“It depends. Do I have a choice?”
"Yes?" he said.
Then she waited, just to cast him some doubt, before she followed him.
He led the way down and they made sure to gratefully thank his mother for the pyjamas, which, really, Cinder was sort of sadly thankful for, because nobody had bought her pyjamas before, but that would have made it weird if she mentioned it. His chattering sisters all gave them a wave from where they were circled around the fireplace, crackling with warmth. Cinder had never seen one before in person, and it felt sort of special. Then they were outside, the snow only making a weak attempt today, Adrian playing in the snowfall from the night before.
“Hi Sapph,” Jaune called.
“Hi Jaune!” Sapphron called back, lifting Adrian high in the air. “Who’s the stray?”
“Cinder,” the stray said.
“Oh! You’re Cinder!” Sapphron came bounding over, eventually setting Adrian down so he could toddle beside her holding his hand. Terra followed over too.
“How does she know I’m Cinder,” asked Cinder to Jaune.
“I might’ve mentioned you once or twice,” he said evasively.
Sapphron introduced Adrian to Cinder and Terra, and then they were all talking about what they were going to eat, and what Adrian had been doing (an attempt at a snowman), and Cinder watched Jaune carefully. He kept shooting her suspicious glances.
“And oh, Cinder, we’ve heard so much about you,” Sapphron said.
At that, Jaune started mock-beating his head against the fencepost.
“Have you,” Cinder said measuredly. “I’ve heard you’re the sister he likes.”
Jaune was mouthing something at Sapphron. He was being needlessly dramatic again. It was just his family.
“Oh, yeah, Jaune was so excited to bring you home,” Sapphron continued, swinging hands with Adrian whilst Terra held the other. “He was talking about it for weeks.”
Cinder squinted at Jaune. His cheeks were red, maybe from the cold. His nose was too, and the tips of his ears. He had let his hair out today. She flicked her attention back to Sapphron and said, “I didn’t know I was coming until a week ago.”
“He mentioned it to me…” Sapphron said and trailed off, then trading a look with Jaune which said more than Cinder could parse. Then she laughed. Long and hard. Adrian started laughing along too.
“I think we should get inside, don’t you?” Terra said to Adrian. “It’s getting cold out here.”
Cinder had a feeling Jaune’s cheeks were not red because he was cold. Well, she just had to get through the rest of the day. She thought she might have to wait it out in tedium and play voyeur to the family, but Jaune’s mother insisted on showing her baby photos (Cinder asked for copies), and then Jaune’s father had shown her his miniatures collection (so Jaune got it from somewhere), then one of his sisters who was a scientist researcher or something spent over twenty minutes explaining her field until Sapphron started asking what Cinder did (she was a student, unfortunately), and then they had wanted to know what she studied (fashion design, which invited more questions), and the more questions they asked Cinder the more Jaune slumped in his chair, which she was not quite sure why. They were just harmless, though every time she answered they would nod sagely, as if there were a wrong and right answer.
She offered to help with the dinner, but they would not let her, so she sat with Jaune in the nicest non-date clothes she had (a simple wool jumper, skirt, simple silver jewellery and heels) and tried to feel comfortable. She toyed with the pendant hanging at her neck. She could not help wearing it every day since she had got it.
Jaune caught her gaze once or twice and had that mysterious smile again. He had his arm over the back of her chair, too, where they were seated at a table big enough to hold ten and then some, including a high-chair for Adrian. They knew how to plan, Cinder would give them that. The room was amber and warm, and she had to admit, it was sort of worth it.
There was more food on the table than she knew what to do with. Roast chicken and ham, and gravy, and potatoes as crispy if they had been deep-fried, sides of green beans and what else. She did not even know where to start. She fingered again at her pendant.
“Ooh, beautiful necklace,” Jaune’s mother said, once she was seated.
Cinder felt Jaune freeze beside her. She turned and cast him a suspicious glance.
“Jaune, darling, you did a wonderful job with picking it,” his mother added.
He hung his head and did not meet Cinder’s watchful eyes. His mouth was a straight line, seeming torn between laughing and groaning in pain.
“You weren’t supposed to say,” Jaune said.
His mother unapologetically said, “Oops.”
His father beside her nodded and said, with equal timing, “Very pretty.”
“Very pretty, Jaune,” Cinder teased. She felt a little merciless. Who else would have known what she wanted, anyway. On her list of gift requests she had not put down such a thing. She would never ask for it. Why had he got her such a pretty necklace. She kept touching it and shuffled in her chair. He just knew her well.
He was still not looking at her and he was huffing at his mother, settling right into being recalcitrant, even between mouthfuls of food and his sisters changing the topic.
She took pity on him and said, “I got you the tickets.”
He looked really silly with his fork halfway to his mouth.
“Close your mouth,” she said.
He closed it. Then said, “You got me the tickets?”
“Yes. So you could go with Pyrrha.”
He set down the fork and it was like they were in a room alone together, with how serious his expression went. His pink mouth was unamused. “Pyrrha.”
Cinder had heard that communication solved most problems, so she decided to go with it. “Everybody knows you’re in love with her. Or she is with you. Or whatever. I was just helping. You deserved something nice.”
“Pyrrha,” he repeated, “my best friend.”
She wanted to qualify very tall, very beautiful, very smart, and untouchable best friend, but she felt that was a little cruel, and she was sort of sure Pyrrha had a whole complex about being perfect, so it made her feel bad describing her as perfect. But she was. She was perfect for Jaune, anyway.
Cinder was not meant for anyone, but that matter was unrelated.
“Pyrrha, my best, platonic friend,” Jaune added.
“Who was in love with you,” Cinder clarified.
“And not anymore, because she was confused.” He stared at her very intently. “And she’s moved on. That Pyrrha. That Pyrrha who’s never even been with me once to a concert. That’s the Pyrrha you’re talking about. The one who doesn’t like my music.”
“Well, she should. You play well.”
“I play badly,” he snapped.
“Now you’re just being ridiculous. You played that song for my birthday. I still remember it.”
“Yes, I played it for your birthday,” he gritted out. He sounded very, very annoyed.
“And I liked it.” She checked the rest of his family did not notice their minor argument. She did not even know what they were arguing over. Communication was supposed to fix things. Yang always said the romcoms Blake liked made no sense, because if only they had just talked sooner, nothing bad would have happened.
“Yes, you liked it,” Jaune said. “And for the record, I was going to take you anyway.”
Cinder crossed her arms and blinked at him. “Stop ruining my plans. It’s annoying.”
“Do you seriously want me to date Pyrrha that badly?”
She wanted to tell him that she wanted him to be happy, but nobody expected her to be that altruistic, and it would sound untrue, coming from her. So she just settled on no answer at all.
The rest of the dinner passed happily enough, with only one small incident over one of Jaune’s sisters apparently dropping out of college (which was something Cinder had seen Jaune debate doing more than once), but Sapphron diverted the argument by telling them all about the garden Terra had been working on back in Argus. Cinder shot Jaune glances but he would not look at her, mostly because once he started stewing there was little to stop him until they had somewhere to talk properly. So it was until bed that he waited to bring up what he was going to say again.
She had showered and put on their matching pyjamas (his mother was quick about that) when he decided, whilst only wearing a towel, to do it.
“I’m not taking Pyrrha,” he said. “She doesn’t like the same music as me.”
“If she really liked you she’d go,” Cinder said absently.
He was just strutting around in a towel. He kept talking about something to do with his guitar playing and that one horrible time he serenaded Weiss, which made Cinder flare with jealousy— had she got the wrong one?— until Cinder just broke.
“Can you put some clothes on,” she snapped. “That towel is barely holding on for dear life.”
“Yes! As a matter of fact I can!”
She turned away for him to change, and then it was sort of hard to hold an argument with him whilst he was covered in snowmen and squirrels. Every time he started talking she kept laughing and she had to suppress it, and he said, “Stop laughing!”
“You’re covered in squirrels.”
“So are you!”
Cinder looked down. So she was. The flannel was pretty comfortable, she had to admit. His room was so sleepy and cosy she wanted to curl right up and have the argument another day, but once he wanted to talk about something it was hard to stop him. So she laid down on the bed and felt around for the quilt, and let the warm light of the room comfort her.
“Will you go with me,” he asked, a sort of non-question. He was standing there with his hands on his hips, and he would have looked so serious if it were not for the pyjamas.
“Fine,” she said. “Now where are you sleeping?”
“Where do you think. Move over.”
“No,” she said. “Sharing a bed is—” she stopped. She knew what this was about.
“You might have had your plans,” he said, scrambling in and huffing, “but I had mine, and mine consist of sleeping in this bed with you. I was going to ask you ages ago to come but I was too scared to. Apparently I have to drag you into everything.”
“You know why.”
“I do,” he said, sadly. “I should’ve— been more straightforward. Meanwhile you were playing around with mistletoe to get me to kiss Pyrrha.”
“It sounds stupid when you say it aloud,” she said. “I guess I should’ve taken the hint when Mercury said it was a bad idea.”
“It’s the only time you ever should have listened to him.” He turned off the light, and the room went dark as anything. This far out of the city, there was no light pollution. Underneath the covers it was like nothing could go wrong, ever. Cinder had never felt this way. It was not a feeling which belonged to her.
Jaune dragged her closer in bed. She closed her eyes and let him touch her.
“I’m keeping you right here,” he said. “I’m taking you with me to the concert, and you’re staying here tonight, and my parents like you. I think they like you better than me.”
“You got me the pendant,” she said dumbly.
“I did.”
She nodded. So he was as conniving as she. She should have expected it.
*
The snow had given out. The little venue hosting the New Year’s Eve party was somewhere normally too hipster for someone like Jaune, but it was cute and quaint, a café moonlighting as a bar at night, and Cinder tried not to wear date-clothes but she ended up in date-clothes anyway, with her hair done up, and apparently he had done the same so she felt less bad about it. He even picked her up and opened the car door for her.
“This is our thing, anyway,” Jaune said, walking closely beside her. “We go to these. I’m not sure why you thought I’d take anybody else.”
She shrugged. Her hand kept brushing against his and she had to reel it back, but every time she did his would just touch hers again.
“The mixtape was full of love songs,” he blurted, once they were sitting down. The band was starting late.
She did not look at him and instead sat primly in her chair, trying to ignore him.
“Was it— intentional?” he tried, once the music had started. He was supposed to be paying attention to their band. They were just a local Vale band who played gigs here and there and they always went.
“They were our songs,” she said blandly.
“Right,” he said. “Our songs.”
“That we danced to.”
“And I kept stepping on your feet,” he said.
He had only stepped on her feet the first few times, and anyway, he had danced with others before, so it was not like she had assumed she was special. The music went on and she tried to get comfortable, but she felt tense, highly strung, the new year pressing in.
“I just don’t get it,” she blurted, voice quiet and unsteady. “Why not her? It should be her.”
They were really cruel, because the song playing now was one of her favourites. She had heard Jaune put it on at the party, where they were knight and Maiden, and he had looked so guilty when he was found changing Ruby’s music. She had told him to turn it up.
“Why can’t you accept it’s you?” he said, like it was easy.
She flattened her mouth and refused to look at him. Everybody thought he was a little goofy, but when he wanted, he was serious and made her feel pinned like a butterfly.
He slid a hand across her thigh, trying to make her look at him.
“You know you don’t have to be scared of me,” he said. “You don’t need mistletoe or a plan or anything. I was going to be with you tonight anyway, don’t you know?”
“But it should be her,” she said, like a broken record.
“And who do I keep coming back to?” he said. He was not even paying attention to the music anymore, but she was, and it was still their song. He added, “I feel like everywhere I look, there you are, or there you should’ve been. It’s you. It was you before you were you.”
Her lower lip trembled, and she slunk down in her seat. It hurt so much. She let him take her hand, and he tilted his head at her, then looked back to the stage. His fingers tapped against hers, and eventually it was like every other time they went to listen to music and he looked at her too long. It was nearing midnight. She swallowed. She had planned this for him and Pyrrha, not him and her. Her fingers clenched around his.
So Cinder had played herself. She kept looking at him and his slender nose, and hoped that midnight passed quickly. She swallowed. All of them thought she was the serious one, but he made her stupid. She always paid too much attention to him. The drums throbbed in her chest.
The band had stopped for midnight, and everybody was cheering and jeering, and the drummer was providing dramatic timing for the shouts of seconds. Some person had decided to start from twenty.
She removed her hand from his palm and only hoped in the dark room he would not notice her cheeks. This was not meant for her. She kicked her feet around and shot one glance at him, and he was watching her very, very carefully, his intent clear on his face.
Ten, she heard, and it was just so stupid, thinking this was at all a good idea, nine, because she was used to being alone, eight, and he was just Jaune, seven, and she was just Cinder, six, and what life was she meant for, five, except just to watch it from a door, or through a window, four, he came closer and wanted to let her in, three, to her great exasperation, she let him in, two, and he scooted his chair closer to her, and cupped her jaw, and one, he was seriously going to kiss her at midnight, wasn’t he: he was, amongst all the cheers, kissing her, in one great swoop. He was so focussed and his brow had furrowed, like he was thinking really hard, and Cinder let her lips press against his, her belly pulled low, low as anything. The cheering was still going but she could not really hear it, not even when the music started back up, because he was still kissing her wetly like nobody else was around. He completely arrested her with both hands on her jaw, single-minded as he always was. She was about to tell him they were still in a crowd before he pulled back, spit-stringed mouth against hers.
“You,” he said. “Look at that smile on your face.”
She shook her head. “No smile.”
He nodded. “Yeah.” He reached up with his thumb and touched her lips. “That smile.”