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Beacon’s dorms had long since settled into the hush of late evening, the steady hum of ceiling fans and the occasional creak of old pipes filling the quiet. Most students had already turned in or were winding down, the hallways lit only by the soft golden glow of nightlights tucked into corners. But in Team RWBY’s dorm, one girl paced.
Weiss Schnee walked in slow, deliberate circuits near her bed, her spine held straight and expression carefully neutral… except for the slight pinch between her brows that betrayed the storm gathering behind her eyes, heels clicking against the floor with each pass. She glanced toward the corner where Blake sat curled on her bed, book in hand, eyes darting across the page like nothing was out of the ordinary.
Weiss cleared her throat.
Blake didn’t look up.
“Ahem,” Weiss tried again, a little louder. Still nothing.
She stopped pacing and folded her arms. “Blake.”
“Yes, Weiss?” Blake said without looking up, calm and suspiciously patient.
Weiss hesitated. There was no elegant way to phrase what she needed. She ran the question through her head again, trying to sand down the awkward edges into something she could say without combusting. It refused to become dignified.
“Hypothetically,” Weiss began, tone far too formal for the hour. “Let’s say you knew someone who was… well… interested in someone else. And let’s say that person wanted to… romance the other. Properly. But wasn’t sure how. Hypothetically.”
Blake finally looked up, one brow already arched.
“This ‘someone’ wouldn’t happen to be named Weiss Schnee, would they?”
Weiss narrowed her eyes. “No.”
Blake said nothing. Just kept staring. Slowly, her lips curled into the smallest of knowing smiles.
“Fine,” Weiss snapped. “Maybe. But that’s not the point. I need information.”
Blake closed her book and sat up, intrigued. “About?”
Weiss floundered. “How to… proceed. Subtly. Gracefully. With an air of mystique.”
Blake tilted her head, lips twitching. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain scythe-wielding team leader, would it?”
Weiss immediately turned to stone. “How dare you…!”
“You’re trying to flirt with Ruby and you have absolutely no idea how, so you came to me.”
Weiss opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she deflated. “Yes.”
Blake, to her credit, didn’t laugh. Though her eyes gleamed with the effort of holding it in, and she bit the inside of her cheek like it was the only thing keeping her from snorting. “Well. You’re in luck. I have a recommendation.”
Weiss perked up slightly. “You do?”
“A resource. It’s a website.” Blake grabbed her scroll from the bedside table and, after a few taps, handed it over. “Archive of Our Own. AO3. It’s a fanfiction site. People post stories… some of them very romantic, some… less so. But if you want to learn about tropes or ideas or how people express affection, you’ll find no shortage of material.”
Weiss took the scroll like it might explode. “And this is… reliable?”
Blake tilted her head. “Mostly.”
Weiss scrolled through Blake’s bookmarks cautiously. Rows of titles blinked up at her. A few looked sweet. Others veered into the strange. And one in particular was… suspiciously bold. Her eyes narrowed as she clicked into a tagged fic and began reading aloud.
“‘The omega shuddered as the alpha… ’” Weiss stopped mid-sentence, her mouth still half-open, eyes narrowing like she’d just discovered a crime scene on Blake’s scroll. She froze.
Blake’s face went pale. “Wait, wait, wait…”
“Blake,” Weiss said slowly, scroll still in hand, eyes wide, “what is A-slash-B-slash-O?”
Blake launched herself across the room with catlike reflexes, snatching the scroll from Weiss’s hands as though it were a live grenade. “On second thought,” she said hastily, already navigating away, “I’ll just make you a list. With filters. Lots of filters.”
Weiss stood frozen in place, lips slightly parted, as if the scroll had short-circuited her.
“What,” she said faintly, half to herself, “is an Omega… and why are they always going into heat?”
Blake didn’t answer. She was too busy reclining on her bed, cradling her scroll like a shield while her thumb flew across the screen. “Nope. Absolutely not. You are not starting with that one.”
Weiss blinked, still frozen. “Was that… in your bookmarks?”
Her brain couldn’t decide which was more shocking… the content itself or the implication that Blake Belladonna, the team’s quiet literary authority, had casually saved it for later reading. Somewhere deep in her soul, a small voice whispered judgment.
“I didn’t know it was that one!” Blake hissed, cheeks turning a rare shade of crimson. “It had a clever title and good grammar! I didn’t check the tags!”
Weiss stared. “It had a scenting chart.”
Blake groaned and buried her face in her pillow. “You weren’t supposed to click that one first.”
Weiss, meanwhile, sat slowly on the edge of her bed, staring ahead like she’d just peered into the abyss and the abyss had responded with a 30k slow-burn soulmate fic and a dubious understanding of biology.
Still… she opened her notebook.
A new title at the top of the page: Operation: Subtle Seduction - Phase One (Strategic Romantic Advancement Initiative, Rev. 1.0).
And below it, the first bullet point:
Note to self: Avoid Omega Heat.
The village was quiet by the time Team RWBY arrived, the last sliver of sun dipping behind the trees as the sky shifted into deep purples and golds. Lanterns hung from the eaves of wooden buildings, their amber glow painting lazy arcs across the stone paths as a faint breeze stirred the warm air. It would have been charming, Weiss thought, if not for the fact that she was currently navigating the delicate logistics of what could only be described as a highly strategic romantic gambit.
“Okay,” Yang said, stretching with a satisfied groan. “I’m starving. Do we know where we’re sleeping?”
“Yes,” Weiss said, stepping forward with practiced poise. “I spoke to the innkeeper upon our arrival. I’ve booked us two rooms. You and Blake will be in Room 2. Ruby and I will be in Room 3.”
Yang blinked, impressed. “Dang. Look at you, already on top of it.”
“It seemed efficient,” Weiss replied, lifting her chin just slightly. “This way we’re not waiting around or relying on last-minute arrangements.”
Ruby looked up, surprised but smiling. “Oh! Thanks, Weiss. That’s really thoughtful.”
“You’re welcome,” Weiss said with what she hoped passed as casual dignity and not deeply calculated romantic intention.
“Guess that’s settled then,” Blake murmured, already turning toward the stairs.
“Enjoy your room, lovebirds,” Yang added with a wink as she slung her duffel over her shoulder and followed Blake.
Weiss scoffed, lifting her nose slightly in mock offense to hide the flush creeping up her neck. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered, voice just a bit too high.
Ruby stuck her tongue out at Yang’s retreating back. “Yeah? Well maybe you two are the ones making googly eyes all the time! Meanwhile, Weiss and I are just… sleeping together!”
There was a beat of silence.
Ruby’s hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide with horror.
“Nope! That’s not what I meant. I mean, not that Weiss and I are… uh… we’re just sleeping… like, in the same room… that happens to be at the same time! Completely normal room stuff. Nothing weird. I don’t even know what weird is.”
Weiss blinked slowly.
Ruby buried her face in her hands. “I’m gonna stop talking now.”
“An excellent decision,” Weiss said crisply, cheeks still burning.
Weiss waited until Yang and Blake disappeared around the corner, then exhaled like she’d been holding her breath through the entire conversation. She straightened her spine, summoned the full weight of her dignity, and turned toward the hallway.
Three seconds of mental preparation.
Then she set off with practiced efficiency, each step carrying the full weight of her romantic intentions and a deeply misguided amount of confidence. Ruby followed at her side, humming softly to herself, blissfully unaware that Weiss had just mentally cued dramatic overture music for what she considered to be a pivotal scene.
This was it. The culmination of Phase Two: Proximity Engineering. AO3 had been very clear… there was power in the “only one bed” scenario. Emotional vulnerability, increased heart rate, possibly shared blankets. It was practically science.
Weiss opened the door.
And froze.
Ruby peeked in over her shoulder. “Whoa, spacious.”
Four beds.
Four.
Weiss stepped inside, eyes wide with disbelief, half-hoping the beds were an illusion brought on by stress and poor lighting. But no… the room was very real, and so were the four perfectly made beds lining the walls like traitors to her cause. The universe, it seemed, had skipped straight past irony and gone for full theatrical mockery. One, two, three, four. Immaculate. Unnecessary. And deeply offensive to her intentions.
Ruby wandered in behind her, looking around cheerfully. “Weiss… why did you get us a room with four beds?”
Weiss felt something in her brain short-circuit.
“There should have only been one,” she muttered, horrified, before realizing what she’d just said out loud.
Ruby blinked. “What?”
Weiss turned sharply away, face flaming. “I… I mean, there should have only been one room. For us. Not… beds. For…” She trailed off, mentally flinging herself off a metaphorical cliff.
This was supposed to be romantic. She had requested the room personally. She had specified ambiance. There was a fireplace in the corner, for crying out loud! And the little table with a tea set… what part of that screamed ‘yes, four beds, please?’
Ruby, meanwhile, had already set her bag down on the bed nearest to Weiss’s. “This one’s mine, then. I like being close to the window. And, y’know, close to you.”
Weiss made a noise that might have once been a word before it got caught somewhere between her heart and her throat.
Ruby beamed, utterly unaware of the emotional implosion she’d just caused. She flopped backward onto her bed and stretched with a happy sigh. “This village is so cute. And the stars are gonna look amazing tonight.”
Weiss sat down very carefully on the edge of her bed, trying not to combust. Her fingers curled into the blankets like they might ground her to reality.
Operation: Subtle Seduction was rapidly spiraling into Operation: Absolute Debacle.
And yet… Ruby had chosen the bed next to hers.
Weiss glanced over. Ruby had her eyes closed, hands tucked behind her head, looking perfectly at peace.
Maybe this wasn’t a total failure.
Maybe there was still time to recover.
Note to self: Verify bed count before next attempt.
The training hall was dim and quiet, long after most of Beacon’s students had packed up and gone for the night. A faint hum buzzed from the overhead lights, casting long shadows across the practice mats and racks of weapons. Weiss stood just outside the supply closet, poised like a woman on a mission… which, technically, she was.
Phase Three: Proximity Engineering – Emergency Backup Scenario.
After the catastrophic betrayal of the four-bed mission, Weiss had regrouped. Reevaluated. Consulted several more fics from Blake’s curated AO3 list. And now she had a new plan. A classic. A trope among tropes: the accidental closet trap.
All she needed was Ruby, a gentle nudge, and a conveniently locking door.
She peeked around the corner.
Ruby was still tidying up after their late training session, humming to herself as she gathered up some sparring pads and stray gloves. Perfect. She was heading straight for the closet.
Weiss crouched slightly, eyes narrowing with precision. Timing was everything. If she did this right, they’d end up trapped together… close quarters, flustered glances, maybe even an accidental brush of hands. It was foolproof.
Ruby approached. Weiss braced.
Ruby stepped inside the threshold…
Weiss surged forward…
… and the door swung shut behind Ruby with a satisfying click.
Perfect.
Except.
Except Weiss was outside the closet.
And Ruby was inside.
Alone.
Weiss stared at the door. Her hand was still on the knob. Her entire soul had just fallen through the floor.
“Uh… Weiss?” came Ruby’s voice from behind the door. “Did… did you mean to do that?”
Weiss’s brain flooded with static.
“I… one moment! Don’t panic!”
“I’m not?” Ruby replied, voice completely calm. “Just kinda dark in here. Smells like old cleaning solvent.”
Weiss reached for the key hanging from the outside of the lock… except… it wasn’t there.
Her stomach dropped. She spun in a slow circle, eyes scanning the floor. Nothing.
“No no no no no…”
She dropped to her knees, checking under the edge of the nearby mat, then patting down her pockets. Where did it go? She had it just a minute ago. She definitely saw it in the lock earlier today. Had it fallen? Vanished? Been absorbed into the Void?
Ruby knocked gently. “Weiss?”
“Yes?”
“Did the door just lock?”
“Maybe,” Weiss said through clenched teeth.
“Do you have the key?”
“Possibly.”
A long pause.
“So… is that a yes?”
“It’s a theoretical yes!” Weiss snapped, pulling her scroll flashlight out and crawling on hands and knees. “Why would the academy use a physical key anyway? We have badge scanners for the dorm bathrooms. This is barbaric.”
Ruby giggled. “You sound kinda panicked.”
“I am not panicked.”
She was absolutely panicked.
This was supposed to be a shared experience. That was the entire point. How was she supposed to induce romantic tension if Ruby was trapped with a mop and Weiss was stuck giving pep talks through a door?
Footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Weiss froze. She turned to see Blake and Yang rounding the corner, carrying noodle cups and looking like they had just stepped out of a casual rom-com montage.
Blake took in the scene with a single blink. “Is Ruby locked in the closet?”
“It made sense in context,” Weiss muttered, straightening stiffly.
Yang slurped her noodles loudly. “Context of what, exactly? Some kind of mop-based metaphor?”
Blake arched a brow and sipped her noodles with suspicious composure. “I’m sure the symbolism would be very clear… if you spent the last week reading the same bookmarked fanfics I have.”
Weiss shot her a look.
“Oh, I’m just saying,” Blake said lightly. “Some of us recognize a pining disaster plan when we see one.”
Yang immediately choked on a mouthful of noodles and started coughing. “Wait… what?” she wheezed, thumping her chest. “You’re telling me this was a crush thing?”
“Hey Weiss?” Ruby called again. “I think I found a softball. Or maybe it’s a really old onion. I’m scared.”
There was a pause.
Then, with casual honesty that immediately betrayed her, Ruby added, “This would probably be more fun if you were in here too.”
Silence.
Weiss’s soul attempted to escape through her ears.
“Wh-what?” she choked, going red so fast it was audible.
Weiss could practically hear the blush blooming across Ruby's face. “I mean… not that it’s not already fun! Or that I, uh, want you trapped in closets, or that I… just… never mind!”
There was a beat of silence, followed by a quiet thunk as her head met the wall again. “I should not be allowed to talk.”
Weiss stumbled backward a step, hand flying to her mouth like she could physically shove the blush back down her throat. Her thoughts tried to organize themselves into something sharp and cutting… something to reassert control over the situation… but all she could manage was a flurry of static and the distant sound of Ruby’s voice still echoing in her ears.
She wasn’t prepared. There hadn’t been a contingency for this. This wasn’t even on her flowchart… or in any of the AO3 tags she’d meticulously skimmed for research. No one ever wrote what to do when your crush accidentally flirted back mid-closet debacle.
Face burning, Weiss blinked hard, swallowed, and… still speechless… pressed her forehead against the door with a quiet thunk.
This was not how it was supposed to go.
Blake leaned down and jiggled the handle. “Do you have the key?”
Weiss sat back on her heels, dead-eyed. “I lost it.”
Yang blinked. “You lost the key?”
“It was here a second ago!”
Blake reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny silver key. “You mean this key?”
Weiss stared. “Why do you have it?”
Blake shrugged, tone entirely too innocent. “I saw the key left in the lock earlier. Thought I’d… assist.”
The mischievous glint in her eyes said the rest.
Weiss covered her face with both hands. She wasn’t sure if she was shielding herself from further embarrassment or just preemptively mourning the fact that Blake now had enough blackmail material to last a lifetime.
Blake unlocked the door with a quiet click.
Ruby blinked against the light and stepped out, holding something fuzzy in one hand. “Wasn’t a softball. Definitely an onion. Might’ve been alive.”
Yang grinned. “Well, at least you didn’t get stuck in there with Weiss.”
Ruby blinked, tilting her head like the question genuinely puzzled her. “But who would say no to quality time with Weiss?”
Weiss made a noise like a teakettle being strangled. Somewhere deep in her spiraling subconscious, she wondered if fainting would be considered a tactful exit strategy.
She would be redrafting Phase Three.
Note to self: Never improvise with antique doors.
The midday sun hung high over Beacon’s training grounds, casting long shadows that danced with the movement of sparring students. The field buzzed with the rhythmic clashing of practice weapons and bursts of aura, but all Weiss Schnee could focus on was the scene unfolding directly in front of her.
Ruby Rose… reckless, radiant, red… was currently bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes gleaming with excitement as she squared off against Weiss. They had already been training for nearly an hour, but Ruby still moved like she’d just gotten out of bed and chugged an entire pot of coffee. Weiss, meanwhile, was desperately trying to maintain her composure.
Focus. Precision. Discipline. You are the heiress of the Schnee Dust Company and a huntress-in-training. You are not here to be flustered by the way Ruby’s hair catches the light or how her laugh bubbles up when she dodges a strike by mere inches.
Weiss lunged. Ruby dodged, twirled, grinned.
“Getting slow, Weiss,” she teased with a cheeky grin, bouncing lightly on her heels and throwing in a playful wink.
Weiss narrowed her eyes, mask of cool disdain slipping for just a moment. “You’re getting cocky.”
They exchanged a few more strikes before Ruby overcommitted on a landing, ankle twisting beneath her with a quiet yelp. She hit the ground in a tumble and winced, hands bracing as she sat up.
Weiss’s heart nearly stopped.
“Oh no… are you alright?” She was at Ruby’s side in seconds, crouched low, already scanning for signs of swelling or injury.
Ruby blinked at her, startled by the urgency. “I think I just twisted it. Maybe. Kinda hurts.”
This was it.
Her moment.
Phase Four: Sweep Her Off Her Feet.
She could see it so clearly: Ruby, swept off her feet into her arms; Weiss carrying her gallantly across the field, their eyes meeting, the sun behind them like some ridiculous movie poster.
“Don’t move,” Weiss said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’ll carry you.”
Before Ruby could even respond, Weiss slid one arm behind her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her in one smooth, confident motion.
Or… what should have been a smooth, confident motion.
Ruby nestled against her chest with a soft, utterly content hum… so pleased she might as well have mewed… which nearly caused Weiss to lose control of her legs on the spot.
Weiss’s brain completely short-circuited.
“Eeep!”
The pitch of her voice came out far higher than she’d intended, and in her flailing panic to correct her grip, she completely lost her balance.
Ruby landed in a heap of limbs and rose petals on the grass.
“I’m fine!” Ruby chirped, popping back up to sitting with a laugh. “Totally good. That was… dramatic.”
Weiss stared at her, mortified, her hands still frozen mid-air like she could will the last ten seconds into nonexistence.
This was supposed to be romantic. This was supposed to be elegant and sweeping and dignified.
Instead, she had launched the girl she liked… with all the grace of a startled goose… directly into the dirt.
Ruby turned to her with a grin, brushing grass off her skirt. “You okay?”
“No,” Weiss said flatly, still staring at the patch of grass where her pride had gone to die.
She could practically hear the dramatic swell of violins… like the soundtrack to Sapphic Yearning: A Warrior’s Burden, that one fic Blake recommended with the 200k word slow burn and emotionally charged bridal carries in her head, the tragic overture of a romantic arc gone terribly, terribly wrong. Perhaps Blake could add this scene to her list of cautionary tales. Or cautionary fanfics.
Ruby tilted her head. “Wanna try again?”
Weiss blinked. “What?”
“You were gonna carry me, right?” Ruby stretched out her arms toward her like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Round two?”
There was a long pause as Weiss processed this. Ruby didn’t look embarrassed. She looked… happy. Willing. Still absolutely glowing despite the disaster they’d just lived through.
Weiss swallowed, regrouped, and carefully, carefully lifted her again.
This time she kept her grip firm and her heartbeat under better control. Ruby’s arms slid naturally around her shoulders, head tilted slightly as she smiled up at her.
“I believe in you,” Ruby murmured, and Weiss thought she might drop her again just from that alone.
But she didn’t. She walked across the field with steady, trembling steps, focused entirely on putting one foot in front of the other.
Ruby leaned in a little closer.
“You’re really strong, y’know that?” Ruby said with a grin. “Take me away, my hero.”
Weiss made a noise that could generously be interpreted as acknowledgment.
Tunnel vision. Keep walking. Don’t explode. Everything is fine. Absolutely fine. You are not about to faint like some Victorian debutante at a garden party.
She did not drop Ruby again.
But when they finally reached the bench near the edge of the field and Weiss gently set her down, she had to turn away for a moment… if only to hide the delighted little smile that had finally managed to break free across her face.
Note to self: If you’re going to sweep your damsel off her feet… try not to drop her halfway through.
The Beacon dorms were quiet between classes… peaceful in that rare, almost sacred way where time seemed to pause, just briefly, before the chaos of the next lecture.
Weiss Schnee stood in front of her bed, rehearsing the most ridiculous move of her entire romantic campaign.
Phase Five: Accidental Allure.
It was delicate, precise, and rooted in subtlety… or at least, that’s what the fanfic had claimed. The idea was to drop one’s scroll just as the intended target entered, then bend to retrieve it slowly. Carefully. Revealing just enough thigh to spark interest, without fully unraveling one’s dignity.
And so, with practiced grace and far more thought than she would ever admit aloud, Weiss positioned herself at the perfect angle near the center of the room. She adjusted the hem of her skirt, checked the mirror one last time, then placed her scroll gently atop the stack of textbooks on her desk.
The door handle turned.
She could feel her heart leap straight into her throat.
Ruby’s voice called lightly into the dorm. “Hey Weiss! You here?”
Showtime.
Weiss turned just enough to make eye contact, smiled… not too wide… and said, “Oh, Ruby. I didn’t hear you come in.”
And then she executed the drop.
Her scroll clattered dramatically to the floor. She turned, angled just right, and with an overly crisp, “Ah… how unfortunate,” dipped low in what she hoped was a casual, fluid motion, as though she hadn’t rehearsed it seventeen times in the mirror.
Only her heel caught the edge of one of Yang’s gauntlets, carelessly abandoned by her bed like a glittering landmine of chaos.
Her balance wobbled.
And before she could correct, she pitched forward and hit the floor with a very undignified yelp.
Face-down.
Skirt fully askew. Her legs were tangled, her dignity obliterated, and her thighs were absolutely catching the breeze.
There was a rush of air, the sudden sweet scent of rose petals, and then Ruby was kneeling beside her in a blur of red and silver, petals still fluttering in her wake.
“Weiss?!”
Weiss groaned faintly, face half-buried in the floor. The ground, unfortunately, refused to open up and swallow her whole, despite her very reasonable request.
Ruby hovered beside her, hands flitting nervously between Weiss’s shoulder and back. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head? Do you need help sitting up?”
Weiss cracked one eye open and muttered, “You’re very loud for a rescue party.”
She winced as she pushed herself up slightly, cheeks already burning. “You saw nothing.”
Ruby’s voice cracked. “Actually… I think I saw a lot.”
Weiss’s stomach dropped.
She turned slowly, only to find Ruby kneeling, stiff as a board, face flushed bright red, eyes wide with something between awe and sheer panic.
Ruby’s mouth opened like she meant to say something reassuring, but instead, she mumbled under her breath… just loud enough for Weiss to hear… “I never imagined you in white lace.”
Weiss’s brain short-circuited.
“What,” she said flatly.
Ruby startled, eyes going impossibly wider. “I mean… I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t trying to see anything!”
Weiss’s soul fled her body.
“You’ve imagined this before?” she asked, too horrified to filter the words.
“NO!” Ruby squeaked. “I mean… maybe! I mean… I don’t… look, I wasn’t trying to see anything, but I did and now I can’t unsee it and I’m really sorry and also kind of panicking! I don’t know what to say!”
They both froze.
The air between them felt combustible.
Then, in perfect unison, they spun around and bolted in opposite directions… Weiss out the door in a flurry of mortification, and Ruby launching herself face-first into her bed with a muffled scream.
Note to self: If you are going to attempt Accidental Allure, do not fall on your face. And for the love of sanity, do not wear lace.
The Beacon ballroom had been transformed for the occasion… soft lights strung across the vaulted ceiling, elegant instrumental music floating from the speakers, and tables pushed aside to make space for the dance floor. Weiss had submitted the event proposal herself under the guise of a trust-based training session. Naturally, she’d omitted the part where this was actually the last stage of a very personal campaign.
She knew full well the headmaster wouldn’t question anything that sounded educational and involved less destruction than usual. And besides, if Team RWBY learned to dance better together, that was technically a combat advantage… somehow.
She adjusted the strap of her radiant blue dress, smoothing down the sleek fabric where it hugged her waist just right. It had taken her hours to choose… subtle enough to be plausible, striking enough to ensure Ruby noticed. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she scanned the room.
Ruby was here. Somewhere. Weiss had seen the blur of red petals enter only a few moments ago. This was her chance. This was it. The final operation.
Phase Six: Ballroom Dancing.
“Hey, Weiss!”
Ruby’s voice lit up the space like a flare… bright, unmistakable, and always a few decibels louder than Weiss expected.
She turned, already trying to regulate her breathing. Ruby wore a dress… a deep, stunning red number with an open back and just enough shimmer to catch the light when she moved. Her hair, tousled in its usual short layers, looked even more artfully windswept than usual, as if the universe had conspired to style her perfectly. The wedge heels… clearly chosen to prevent her usual battlefield physics… only added to the quiet confidence in her stride.
Weiss’s breath caught. And for a brief, blinding second, she forgot every single step of the waltz she’d spent years mastering.
Oh no, she thought. She’s radiant. I’m doomed.
Weiss momentarily forgot how words worked.
“Dance with me?” Ruby asked, practically bouncing in place.
Weiss nodded… once, sharply… before her brain could ruin it.
They moved to the center of the floor. Weiss placed her hand on Ruby’s shoulder; Ruby’s hand rested lightly at her waist.
Weiss cleared her throat. “Let me lead.”
“You could literally do anything to me right now,” she breathed… then went completely still. “Wait… I didn’t mean…! I mean… not anything, not like that… I mean, unless you… no! Not unless! I mean… uh… yes? No. Dance! Dancing. That’s what we’re doing.”
Weiss forgot how breathing worked.
For a horrifying second, she genuinely wasn’t sure if her lungs still functioned. Ruby’s words echoed in her mind, short-circuiting every ounce of dignity she had left. She forced a breath in through her nose… steady, composed, absolutely unaffected. Definitely not combusting.
Her grip on Ruby’s shoulder tightened just a fraction as her mind tried and failed to reboot. There was not a dignified response in existence for that sentence.
She inhaled slowly, eyes forward, spine straight.
Focus.
Dancing.
Definitely just dancing.
She began the first steps of the waltz, grateful for years of etiquette lessons and private tutors. Ruby stumbled slightly, then followed with more enthusiasm than coordination.
“Sorry!” Ruby whispered. “I’ve got this… I’ve got this.”
“You’re stepping on the beat,” Weiss said, more gently than she expected.
“I’m trying! Feet are weird!”
Weiss didn’t laugh. But it was a near thing.
They circled the floor, mismatched at first, then slowly easing into something almost graceful. Ruby was grinning. Weiss could feel the smile like sunlight… warm and blinding.
Then Ruby’s foot caught the hem of Weiss’s dress.
She stumbled.
Weiss caught her.
Without thinking, she spun them back into the step, shifted her grip, and dipped Ruby low to the floor… precise, elegant, dramatic. Her hand supported Ruby’s back; Ruby’s eyes had gone wide.
Weiss leaned forward, heart thudding.
Ruby blinked up at her, pink blooming across her cheeks.
The moment held… suspended, perfect.
And then Weiss’s heel slipped.
The dip collapsed.
“…ow,” Ruby said from the floor.
Weiss stared down at her in absolute horror.
“Oh for the love of… ”
She yanked Ruby upright, flustered, furious at physics.
And then she kissed her.
It was fast. Forceful. Slightly off-center.
Ruby froze.
Then melted.
She smiled against Weiss’s lips and returned it with a soft, giddy sound that made Weiss’s stomach flip.
Ruby blinked, dazed, and whispered, “Wow.” She laughed softly, breath hitching like she was still catching up to reality. “Just… wow. We should’ve done that like… way sooner.”
Weiss screamed internally for three full seconds.
Ruby giggled, arms still around her. “Do it again?”
Weiss froze… not out of panic this time, but stunned surprise. Her mind, so often spinning with contingency plans and fluster-prevention tactics, had not accounted for this: Ruby asking for more.
And gods, she wanted to give her more.
She reached for Ruby’s hand again, fingers threading together like it was the most natural thing in the world, and nodded once. It wasn’t calculated. It wasn’t part of any operation.
It was just yes.
Somewhere between the thudding of her pulse and the press of Ruby’s fingers in hers, Weiss moved.
Not for strategy. Not to salvage a plan. Just because her heart was already halfway there.
She stepped in closer and led them back into the dance.
No fumbles this time. Just movement. Just closeness.
At the song’s swell, Weiss dipped Ruby once more… no stumbles, no slips, just the perfect arc of trust and tension. Ruby’s breath hitched again, but this time it was all exhilaration.
Their noses brushed. Ruby’s eyes fluttered shut.
Weiss kissed her again.
Slower. Surer. Radiant.
When they finally broke apart, they stayed close… foreheads pressed, breaths shallow, neither of them quite ready to step back.
They stayed there a moment longer, noses brushing, their breaths still shaky and uneven, clinging to the high of second kisses and the miracle of nothing going wrong.
Weiss hesitated, then let herself speak without filtering. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”
Ruby’s eyes softened. “Absolutely.”
They stood like that, impossibly close, swaying to music they’d stopped dancing to.
Ruby leaned in again, her words a whisper against Weiss’s ear. “So… what do people actually do on dates?”
Weiss, still breathless, gave a sheepish smile. “I’m honestly not sure. But Blake pointed me to a website.”
Ruby narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Oh no.”
Weiss tilted her chin up, savoring the moment like a final victorious move on a chessboard. This was it. The culmination of every trope, every plan, every flustered disaster she’d barely survived.
“I made a list,” she declared, with all the pride of a woman who had finally bested fate itself.
Ruby groaned softly, already grinning. “Of course you did.”
Note to self: Successfully executed romantic gesture. Minimal chaos. Two kisses acquired. AO3 trope deployment: successful.