Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Okay, what about that one?” Blake pointed.

Yang squinted at the holiday display. It was oversaturated with at least six discrete Christmas scenes ranging from a Baby Yoda Jesus to two angels descending from the rooftop by rope like spies pulling a heist.

They’d been walking around their semi-suburbran neighborhood for an hour, Blake desperately searching for one lawn that Yang couldn’t mercilessly mock. This one was certainly not going to be the winner.

“You’re joking, right?” Yang asked. “This is a hot mess.”

“Yang. Even the sledding penguins?”

“Uh, you see how that one is on its belly?”

“It’s getting on its sled.”

“And the other one is standing right behind it?”

“Because it’s waiting its turn.”

“It looks like they’re about to--”

“No!” Blake smacked Yang’s arm, laughing despite herself. Yang’s coat sleeve let out a sad puff of air. “Ruby was right. You really are a grinch.”

“My sister and my girlfriend are ganging up on me. Anyone would go grinchy.” Yang looped her arm through Blake’s, and they kept walking. It was cold, but just to the point of dusting Blake’s cheeks pink. Bundled up in their hats and scarves and mittens, it was a perfectly clear, pleasant night for a walk. Unintentionally horny Christmas decorations aside, of course. “Why do penguins even need sleds? Aren’t they like, nature’s original luge experts?”

“It’s cute,” Blake said definitively.

Yang kissed her on the cheek. “Whatever you say, baby.”

The promise of hot chocolate and cuddling by the fire when they got home made Yang want to hurry this along, but Blake loved looking at Christmas lights. Occasionally she would join Yang in making fun of the particularly low-effort decorations, like one house that had decorated exactly one bush by their front porch with a net of red and green lights. That, Yang asserted, was something a real grinch would do.

She was trying not to bully these poor houses too much. Really. But some of their residents had gone to extreme lengths to make that goal next to impossible to achieve.

“Are you having fun at least?” Blake asked.

“Are you having fun?” Yang countered.

“I swear I will find something, someday, that makes you like Christmas. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Yang sighed. “I don’t hate Christmas. It’s just... not my favorite day.”

“I know,” Blake said gently. She laid her other hand over Yang’s, reassuring that she wouldn’t push it further. They’d talked about all of that before, and Yang wasn’t about to ruin Blake’s night by rehashing it now. “I’m sorry I called you a grinch.”

“Obviously I was deeply wounded. It’s going to take a lot of hot chocolate to make up for it. Like, gallons.”

Blake stuck her tongue out. It was one of those things that reminded Yang just how much more free Blake had let herself become in their year and a half together.

When they’d first met back in college, Blake hardly smiled. Ever. She’d been mysterious, aloof, and much too cool for her own good. Fortunately, Yang was proudly none of those things, and Blake had found her utterly charming for it. Soon, running into each other at parties turned into lunches and dinners, and Blake started to show a side of herself that she usually kept hidden away. Passionate, funny, endearingly awkward. It didn’t take long for her to become Yang’s favorite person on the planet, and the first time Yang made her laugh - a real, exuberant, unstoppable laugh - she decided that she wouldn’t mind hearing that sound for the rest of her life. Blake was her best friend, and she would’ve been content with simply holding onto that for as long as possible.

Graduation took them in different directions, but they stayed close. Then Blake happened to move across the country to Yang’s city for work. Six months later, Yang finally got up the courage to make a move.

Since then they’d moved into a new apartment, adopted a dozen plants, and built a life together. Yang wouldn’t give it up for anything, even if it meant spending most of her December evenings listening to holiday music and touring lights displays. She had to admit that the Botanical Gardens knew what they were doing when it came to festive decor.

In theory, Christmas was about joy and being with loved ones. For Yang, that idea had shattered when she was seven years old, and she’d found it hard to look at tinsel and gingerbread and icicle lights the same since.

When they reached the end of the block, Blake’s eyes lit up (even the brightest, most elegant displays couldn’t compare).

Looking ahead, Yang spotted a food truck parked by the curb advertising various holiday drinks and fresh soft pretzels. There were a few people waiting in line, and Blake tugged on Yang’s arm until they had joined the back of the queue. It barely took two minutes for them to get to the front of the line, and soon Yang was very happily holding two pretzels and stealing sips of spiced, mulled wine from Blake’s cup.

“I have an idea,” Blake started. “If you’re up for a little bit of a hike.”

“After double-fisting German pretzels, I’m pretty sure I’ll be up for anything,” Yang said.

“I want to take you somewhere.”

“Why, Miss Belladonna, I’m flattered. Unfortunately, I already have a girlfriend.”

Blake put on that adorable, fake-annoyed face she always made when she was trying not to laugh at one of Yang’s terrible jokes.

Yang traded her a pretzel for the wine. “Where are we going?”

With a touch of her old mystery, Blake started walking ahead. “You’ll see,” she called back.

They were headed in the direction of the town square, which didn’t seem all that exciting. Yang drove past it every day on her way to work and rolled her eyes at the sheer wastefulness of every shop having its own themed, ornate wreath on the door. The one at the shoe boutique was particularly ridiculous, given that they’d chosen to weave actual shoes into the holly. The long-defunct central fountain was covered in garlands, and every tree lining the sidewalks had been covered in lights since the end of October. It was nothing she hadn’t seen before.

After a while, Yang started to hear music. Carolers - surprisingly good ones.

When they were half a block away and both pretzels were gone, Blake took Yang’s hand. It was clumsy through their gloves, but Yang certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Close your eyes,” Blake said.

“Are we playing hide-and-seek?”

Blake squeezed her hand. “I’m right here. Just close them.”

Yang obliged, and Blake started leading her down the street. “There better not be like, a Christmas clown in my face when I open my eyes.”

“No clowns. Promise.”

“Good.”

They turned the corner, and Yang suddenly felt warmer. The same feeling washed over her again when Blake circled behind her, keeping a hand on Yang’s waist the whole time and holding her close.

“Okay. Open,” Blake whispered, her head on Yang’s shoulder. She was probably standing on her toes to accomplish such a feat, which was a terribly endearing image that would make any grinch reconsider their stance.

Again, Yang listened. She was greeted by the sight of a six-foot bonfire burning bright in the middle of the fountain. Around it, a crowd had gathered to join the small band of singers in an unusually choral but unmistakably jubilant rendition of “All I Want For Christmas Is You.”

The park was haloed by a wide ring of dazzling trees illuminated in every color, and the white lights strung high across the square made the nascent snowfall seem almost like a magic trick.

“Whoa,” was all Yang could think to say.

“Not too bad, right?” Blake asked.

“Yeah,” Yang managed.

“Wow,” Blake teased, circling back around so that she could see the look on Yang’s face. “Has your heart grown three sizes already?”

“Maybe one. But that’s just because you’re here,” Yang said, pulling Blake back in. It was cold, and Blake was warm, and the smell of hot chocolate and pretzels still clung to her coat.

Blake tapped her forehead to Yang’s just briefly before recoiling with a gasp. It was worrying for all of half a second, but she had a glint in her eye that made Yang nervous in the best way.

“What?” Yang asked slowly. “Are you gonna try to rope me into caroling? Because as much as I love to see them branching out from their usual setlist, that is not happening.”

“No, but I had a thought,” Blake said.

“You’re just full of ideas tonight, huh?”

“Come home with me.”

“I assumed that was the plan. You know, hot chocolate, fireplace, other things...”

Blake lifted her gloved hands to Yang’s face, her touch still gentle through the rough fabric. “I mean come home with me for Christmas. To my parents’ house.”

Yang’s eyebrows climbed so far up her forehead they practically disappeared under her hat. “Your parents?”

With a shy shrug, Blake dropped her hands to Yang’s shoulders. “I don’t want to miss you on Christmas this year.”

“Even if I’m all grinchy?”

“Even if you’re all grinchy.” Blake smiled, and it warmed Yang more than any bonfire could.

Yang hesitated, knowing she shouldn’t have.

Still, the brightness in Blake’s eyes didn’t dim.

“What about the plants?” Yang tried. She knew it was a terrible excuse as soon as it slipped out.

“We can ask Weiss to water them,” Blake countered.

“She does love a good to-do list,” Yang muttered. “What about Ruby? We have some holiday traditions.”

“Ruby can come, too,” Blake pushed. “We always have a bunch of extra people at our house. Relatives, friends, international students my mom invites from the university. You’ll get to meet Sun, finally.”

“As in the guy who spent the past year living in a yurt in the desert to ‘build character?’”

“As in my best friend since I was four years old,” Blake corrected. “But, also, yes. The guy who lived in the desert,” she conceded.

“He sounds fun.”

Blake nodded. “I think you’ll like him. He’s getting back home on the 23rd. He would never miss my parents’ Christmas Eve party. It’s fully catered.”

Yang narrowed her eyes. “I’m guessing you already mentioned that to Ruby.”

“Maybe.”

“What did she say?”

“I told her there would be multiple buffets involved.” Blake paused. “She screamed.”

“Yeah, that checks out.”

“If you two really want to sit and watch Diehard for the hundred and third time--”

“It’s a Christmas classic.”

“--I’m sure my parents won’t mind letting you use the TV for a couple hours.”

The mention of Blake’s parents made Yang’s stomach flip again. In reality, she had almost every reason in the world to say yes. Of course she wanted to meet Blake’s parents - they were responsible for making her favorite person on the planet, after all - but she was never her best self over the holidays. Her smile was slower to come, her laugh a little quieter. She didn’t want the Belladonnas thinking that their hospitality was responsible for any of her somberness, or that Yang was anything less than ecstatic to be with their daughter.

“Just think about it. Please?” The slight, hopeful tilt of Blake’s mouth cracked Yang’s heart right in half. “I mean, you have time. Well, a few days. We should let them know soon if--”

“Okay.” Yang said softly.

Blake’s eyes lit up. “Okay, you’ll think about it?”

“Okay, let’s do it. Let’s go to your parents’ house for Christmas.”

It was already worth it just to feel Blake’s grin press against her own.

***

Weiss was not a morning person. This was a well-known fact. Getting her to do anything before 11 a.m. was a Herculean feat, but when Yang called and mentioned something about brunch and jewelry shopping, Weiss had literally vaulted out of bed. Yang knew this to be true because she’d Facetimed Weiss as soon as Blake had left the house around 9:30 to pick up some last minute things for their trip (an unusual break in her own anti-morning routine, and a clear sign of just how excited she was). During their Facetime, Yang witnessed Weiss go from 90% asleep to on her feet in half a second.

“I thought you were buying me a waffle first,” Weiss nagged as they walked up to the jewelry shop.

“Why would I buy you a waffle when pancakes are clearly the best brunch food?” Yang pulled the door open. “After you.”

“Have you finally decided to learn manners for Blake’s parents?” Weiss taunted.

Yang followed her inside and stepped on the back of her shoe very purposefully.

“Ow,” Weiss said pointedly.

“Oops,” Yang replied cheekily.

“I rescind my comment about your manners. How foolish of me to believe you had the capacity to develop any, whatsoever, at all.”

“Harsh, Weiss. Keep this up and you’ll be stuck with dry toast for brunch.”

Someone came out from the back of the store to man the counter, and Yang headed over.

“So what are we looking for?” Weiss asked. “A nice necklace, maybe? Blake doesn’t really seem like a bracelet girl.”

“I was thinking something a little different,” Yang said. She turned to the person behind the counter. “Picking up for Xiao Long.”

With a nod, the employee disappeared into the back again.

Weiss immediately stopped browsing and stomped over. “Excuse me. You dragged me out of bed at an ungodly hour to come buy jewelry you already chose? What am I even doing here?”

“Wait for it,” Yang grinned. “I think you’ll approve.”

Grumbling about how Yang’s instincts for this sort of thing were average at best, Weiss crossed her arms.

The employee returned a moment later with a small box in hand.

Weiss scoffed. “What did you get her? Earrings? That’s hardly romantic, Yang.”

Yang shook her head. “Not earrings.”

“Well, let me see already!” She elbowed Yang out of the way and leaned over the counter.

The employee opened the box.

Inside was a ring.

Three small diamonds were nestled into a braided gold band on either side of a sparkling, blazing central gem. Seeing it in person made Yang’s breath hitch, and all she could do was stare.

Weiss stared at it, too. Then she punched Yang in the arm.

Yang flinched. “That actually hurt.”

“You bought an engagement ring without consulting me?!” Weiss shrieked. She jabbed her knuckles into Yang’s shoulder again for good measure.

“Ow, Weiss--”

“If you’d told me you were looking for a yellow diamond, I could have saved you thousands of--”

“Yes, I get it. Your dad owned a diamond mine, you know more about jewelry than I ever will, my taste is abhorrent.” Yang cut in. “But I got a good deal. I promise.”

Weiss side-eyed the person behind the counter, then snatched the ring out of the box and held it up to the light. “This diamond is fake.”

“No, it’s citrine,” Yang corrected. She grabbed the box from the employee and pocketed it. “Thanks. It’s perfect.”

The employee fled rather quickly, casting one last vaguely fearful look at Weiss.

“Hm,” Weiss said. “It’s very pretty. I’ll give you that. An unusual choice, though.”

Yang took the ring back and pointed to the tiny, clear gems flanking the oval citrine. “There are diamonds in there, too. They’re just little.”

Weiss narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. “Yang Xiao Long, if you cheaped out on your engagement ring...”

“I didn’t!” Yang insisted. She’d worried about how much to spend, too, but she’d found a balance of quality and affordability that still looked like something Blake might actually want to wear. “Blake doesn’t even like diamonds. Plus, we wanted to save money on the rings and put more into the actual wedding part.”

“And when did this conversation take place? Why was I not informed that you two were discussing marriage?”

“It was a very abstract conversation,” Yang shrugged. “Then it... got a little less abstract.”

“When are you doing it?”

Yang rubbed the back of her neck. This was the part of the plan that she actually needed advice on. “I was thinking of doing it Christmas Day.”

“Really?” Weiss softened. She knew the history of the holiday in the Xiao Long-Rose household.

“Yeah,” Yang said. “I want to like Christmas, Weiss. I really do. Ruby’s always been really nice about it, but I know she wishes that Dad and I would decorate cookies with her in her kitchen and sing along to all the songs on the radio. I’m tired of being a grinch. Just because it’s--just because I have bad memories associated with it doesn’t mean I can’t... reclaim it, you know? I want to do all those fun things with her, and you, and Blake.”

Yang could have sworn she saw Weiss tearing up, but maybe that was just what happened when the ice queen melted a little.

“Plus, Blake really loves this time of year. I want to make it as special for her as I can.”

Weiss brushed at the corner of her eye, careful not to upset her mascara. She sniffled once and put a hand on Yang’s shoulder. “I think it’s wonderful that you want all those things, Yang.”

“Did you just wipe your mascara on my shirt?”

“That’s not the point.” Weiss removed her hand quickly. “Anyway, I hope you’ve thought this through, because a proposal is going to be very hard to top next year.” She looked down at the ring that was still in her hand.

Yang shifted, tossing the box from one hand to the other. “Do you think she’ll say yes?”

Weiss looked at her like she’d just asked what 1+1 equaled. “Of course, you dolt.”

“Okay,” Yang exhaled. “Good. Yeah.”

Weiss hummed to herself, pensive as she examined the ring more closely. “Fourteen karat gold?”

“Eighteen,” Yang said.

“The classier choice, but make sure she takes it off when she’s at the gym or washing dishes. Eighteen karat is--”

“Softer than fourteen, yes. The nice employee you scared off walked me through it.”

After a subtle, distrusting glare at the back of the store, Weiss returned her attention to the ring. She plucked it from Yang’s hand, held it up to the light again, and then tucked it back into the velvet-lined box. “Alright. I approve. Brunch?”

Weiss really did think waffles were better than pancakes, which Yang just couldn’t agree with. Once she’d polished off half of a Belgian waffle that showed up covered in fruit, she happily agreed to water the plants while they were out of town.

“Really, Yang,” she said through a bite of banana and strawberry, “It’s impossible to kill a cactus. I can handle this.”

Yang eyed her across the table. “We have an orchid, too. That one’s a lot harder to keep alive. She faked us out for a couple of days last month.”

Weiss tapped the piece of paper between them. “I will follow Blake’s very specific directions on how to not murder your plant children. Give her my compliments on this spreadsheet, by the way.”

“How do you know I didn’t help her?”

Weiss laughed. Exactly once.

“Seriously. I picked out the colors,” Yang argued.

“i thought something was off with the palette.”

“You know plants feel it when you say mean things, right? You’re not allowed to bully them.”

“I’ve got everything handled. Seriously. Go be disgustingly happy with your girlfriend. And soon-to-be fiancée.” Weiss sealed the discussion by spearing a blueberry.

***

“So let me get this straight,” Yang said.

From the passenger seat, Blake tossed her a teasing look. “Impossible, but go on.”

She took her eyes off the road just long enough to crinkle her nose at Blake in return. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“What was your question?”

“Does Sun just hang out with your family for Christmas every year?”

“Pretty much. He’s not that close with his parents, and they’re not big on holidays.”

Blake was picking at her fingers, and she only did that when she was nervous about something.

Yang reached her hand to hold one of Blake’s. “Baby, you don’t have to be worried. Parents love me.”

Even though Yang wasn’t looking, she could practically hear the raised eyebrow in Blake’s voice. “Oh? Have you met a lot of your girlfriends’ parents?”

“No. Just like, parents in general.” Yang glanced over, and Blake was biting her lip. Another nervous habit, but one that usually only set in when she was really struggling with something. “Blake, what’s wrong?”

Blake squeezed her hand hard. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“Before I do, please remember that I love you and I love everything about our life together.”

Yang let out a dry laugh. “Okay, this took kind of a scary turn.”

Coming off of a sharp inhale, Blake blurted out: “My parents don’t know we’re together.”

“What?” Yang wanted to slam the brakes, but instead she pulled her hand back and put it on the wheel, holding so tight that her prosthetic knuckles would have turned white if they could have.

Blake was silent as Yang slowed onto the shoulder and stopped the car.

After a few seconds of deafening silence, Blake spoke first. “You have every right to be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Yang said, taking off her seatbelt and turning to face the passenger seat. “I’m not. Just... I don’t understand.” There was no good way to ask her next question, so she just came out and said it. “Are they like, homophobic or something?”

“No, no,” Blake clarified. “Nothing like that. They’ve known I’m bisexual since I was fourteen.”

Blake was staring down at her lap, still picking away at her fingers, and it was doing nothing to reassure Yang. “So then what?” Yang said as gently as she could.

“Um. I told you about Adam,” Blake began.

Yang grimaced at the mention of his name, but she said nothing. If this had something to do with him, it couldn’t be good.

“He’s the last person I brought home to meet my parents,” Blake continued. “They didn’t like him very much.”

“Understandable,” Yang said.

“Yeah, well. They were right not to, but I couldn’t see that at the time. I ended up not talking to them for almost a year.”

Yang nodded. She’d heard all of this before, but if Blake needed to talk about it, she’d listen.

“Anyway, we fixed things, obviously, but they can be really protective when it comes to my dating life.” Blake starting picking at a hangnail.

Blake jumped ever so subtly when Yang reached across the console again.

Yang pulled back and looked at her, waiting for permission, and Blake took her hand.

“I’m sure they trust your judgment more than you think,” Yang tried.

“During my first year at college, I told them I was kind of seeing someone and they ran a background check on him.”

“Okay. That’s a little extreme. But that was what, eight, nine years ago? You’re 27 now.”

Blake smiled, but it looked tired. “I just don’t want them jumping to unfair conclusions about you because I was a dumb teenager. This way, they can get to know you first before we get into all of the serious relationship talk. And I know they’re going to love you as much as I do.”

Yang nodded slowly, taking it all in.

It wouldn’t be the easiest situation to navigate, sure, but she understood where Blake was coming from. Who didn’t have weird baggage with their parents?

“You do plan on telling them eventually, right?” Yang asked.

Blake’s eyes went wide. “Of course.” She paused briefly, then went on. “I was going to tell them everything when I mentioned you and Ruby were coming, but then my dad dramatically announced that he decided to run for mayor.”

“Really? Good for him.”

“I guess. My mom said he’s been really stressed about kicking off his campaign. He’s trying to get some important activists to endorse him, and it’s not always easy to get people on board with first-time political candidates. I didn’t want the stress to color his reaction to hearing about us.”

“Alright,” Yang said, reaching to take Blake’s other hand as well. “So I just have to pretend I’m not completely in love with you for a couple of days?”

Blake suppressed a grin. “Well, not all the time. Just when we’re around my parents.”

Yang leaned across the console, her lips very nearly meeting Blake’s. “Do you have any idea how hard this is going to be?”

“I think I do, yeah,” Blake said, her voice dropping low.

Yang kissed her deeply, knowing this might be her last chance to do so for a while. Torn between wanting to let the heat build further and knowing they were already running late, she left the choice to pull away up to Blake - but instead, Blake’s tongue slipped across Yang’s bottom lip.

Yeah. These were going be a rough few days.

“Okay,” Blake whispered, breaking off, breath long gone from her lungs. “We should get going.”

“Yeah, we should,” Yang returned. She sealed her lips against Blake’s one more time, secretly hoping she might inspire Blake to give up the whole act with one kiss. The groan that rose in Blake’s chest told her that it almost worked.

Finally, Blake pushed against Yang’s shoulder to separate them. “Okay,” she repeated, dropping her forehead against Yang’s. She stayed there, catching her breath.

Yang couldn’t help but smile. Knowing she had such an effect on Blake reassured her - at least they’d be going through the torment of this platonic charade together.

***

As they pulled into the driveway, Yang felt Blake tap on the back of her hand.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Blake asked.

“Yes,” Yang confirmed. “I’m just happy to be here with you. Even if it’s only as your roommate.”

“Don’t forget best friend.”

“Ooh, Sun’s got competition.”

“It’s his own fault, really.”

“He did spend a year in the desert.”

The whole time, they were leaning closer to each other. Just as their lips brushed, the front door of the house flew open, and they sprang apart.

Thirty seconds in the driveway and they’d already almost gotten caught. By some stroke of luck, it was Ruby who came bounding out to greet them. Her two-hour drive clearly hadn’t sapped any of her energy.

“YANG!” she exclaimed from the porch, the car door muffling her volume but none of her enthusiasm.

“Here we go,” Blake said, distinctly eyeing Yang’s mouth.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Yang laughed.

Blake hummed in response before pressing her lips to Yang’s one last time. “Now I will. Let’s go.”

Ruby tapped on the window. “You guys are gross.”

Yang opened the door and put her sister in a headlock. “What did you say?”

“I’m not taking it back because I’m right. Blake, help meeeeee!”

Blake got out of the car and extricated Ruby from Yang’s grasp, promptly wrapping her in another headlock.

“No!” Ruby wailed. “This is so unfair...”

“Sorry, Ruby,” Blake said. “But I’ve got to take Yang’s side on this one.”

“I should have known you’d team up with your girlfr--”

“Uh, Ruby,” Yang interrupted. “We actually have something to tell you.”

“Oh my gosh,” Ruby gasped, and Blake released her. Ruby rushed up to Yang, whispering enthusiastically. “Did you do it?”

“Anyway,” Yang said quickly, catching Blake’s eye. She didn’t react as if she’d heard anything, the same apprehensive look on her face as when they’d pulled over earlier. “Blake and I are kind of laying low this weekend.”

“Ew, I don’t want to hear about that,” Ruby replied.

“It’s not a sex thing,” Yang hissed. “She hasn’t told her parents that we’re dating yet, so I’m here as her... roommate.”

“Oh.”

“We texted you like, eight times.”

“I was driving. After that I was helping Blake’s mom unload groceries.”

“You didn’t say anything to them yet, did you?”

“No. Thank goodness, right?”

Blake’s shoulders relaxed. “Thanks, Ruby. And thanks for helping with the groceries.”

“Of course!” Ruby exclaimed, going in for a hug as if she hadn’t been put in a headlock by the same person just a minute before. “Your parents are so nice. They already let me make some cookies.”

“That explains a lot,” Yang chuckled. “How many have you eaten?”

“None of your business!” Ruby chirped.

Just then, the front door opened again, and an absolutely massive man appeared in the doorway. Yang recognized him from pictures Blake had shown her. His trim, full beard and hair created the illusion of a dark, shadowy lion’s mane, but the oversized turtleneck he wore softened his look to something approachable. Or at least something approaching approachable. He was still Blake’s father, after all, and thus someone who Yang cared very much to impress.

“Mr. Belladonna,” she said cheerfully, jogging up to the porch to shake his hand.

She probably should have been prepared for his hands to be approximately the size of baseball mitts. His grip was firm and unyielding.

“You must be Yang,” Blake’s father said, his voice a growl. “Now, I hope we’re not going to have any problems.”

Yang froze, her hand still enveloped by his. “Uh, no, sir. No problems.”

“Really? Because I think we might.”

Yang gulped. Had Ruby said something by mistake? Was their cover already blown? “Really?” she managed.

“Yes. Because if you’re staying in my house for Christmas...” he paused, and the drama of the moment was not lost on Yang. “You’re going to need to call me Ghira.”

“Oh,” Yang stuttered. She was not proud of the incredibly awkward laugh that followed.

In the driveway, Ruby burst out laughing. “I told you she’d fall for it!”

“Well played, Ruby,” Ghira said, releasing Yang’s hand to point at his accomplice.

From somewhere inside the house, a voice called out. “Ghira, are you frightening our guests already?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I couldn’t help it,” he shouted back, his voice booming. He turned back, and his voice returned to its normal volume of slightly less booming. “Welcome, Yang.”

“Thank you,” she answered. A beat later, she tacked on, “Ghira.”

“Now that that’s settled, where is my baby girl?” He exited the house and took all of four steps to reach the driveway.

Blake was pulling their bags out of the trunk, but as soon as Ghira spotted her, she was in his arms and off the ground.

“Dad, please don’t give my roommate a heart attack before she’s even in the house,” Blake said. She glanced over at Yang, an apology written all over her face. A pang hit Yang’s chest - the first chance she got, she was pulling Blake aside and hugging her. Like, for a full minute, minimum.

Ruby started grabbing their bags, always eager to help.

“Hey, don’t worry about those, sis,” Yang said.

“Yes,” Ghira interjected, placing Blake back on the asphalt. “Please, allow me.”

He scooped the bags up with one hand. Granted, they were small duffel bags, but they still looked they weighed exactly nothing to him. As he passed Yang, he winked. “We’re thrilled to have you with us, Yang. And your sister, too. She’s quite the star baker.”

“She sure is,” Yang returned. She hoped that whatever awful laugh this was that kept coming out when she talked to one of Blake’s parent’s would vanish soon. “We’re excited to be here.”

“Excellent! Make yourselves at home. I mean it.” He shuffled through the doorway, bags first.

As soon as he’d headed back into the hallway, a woman stepped into the foyer. Kali was practically a carbon copy of Blake with significantly shorter hair and gold jewelry lining her ears in more piercings than Yang could count at a glance.

The first thing Kali did was bring her hands up in front of her chest and shrug up her shoulders a little exactly like Blake did when she was excited. The resemblance was uncanny, and it threw Yang in a completely different way than Ghira’s massive stature had.

“Hi, Kali,” Yang remembered to say.

“Yang!” Kali cried out, rushing forward and crushing her in a hug. “It’s such a delight to have you here. Blake’s told us so much about you.”

It made Yang’s heart leapt. At least they knew about her in some context. “She has?”

“She sure has,” Kali said slyly.

That made Yang’s heart jump all the way up into her throat, unfounded fears that they’d already been found out hitting again. Her pulse was racing at this point, the adrenaline of the whole situation taking over. “What has she told you?”

Kali released the embrace and looked at Yang. Her eyes were a slightly yellower shade of gold than Blake’s but just as piercing, and Yang had the strong sense that it would be difficult to slip anything past this woman.

“Hopefully she hasn’t already embarrassed me too much,” Yang tacked on.

“Oh, I didn’t,” Blake said, coming up behind Yang. Her hand settled on Yang’s back - in a completely and totally platonic way. “You do such a good of embarrassing yourself all on your own.”

“See if you get your Christmas present now,” Yang retorted. “I still have time to return it.”

“Go right ahead,” Blake said. “I’m sure Ruby would be happy to get two from me.”

“Yes, I most certainly would,” Ruby said.

Kali laughed and tugged Yang towards the house. At least Blake’s family was fairly open about physical affection. Maybe Yang wouldn’t be completely out of sorts trying to keep her hands fifty feet away from Blake for the next few days.

“So, let me guess,” Kali started as she led them into the spacious kitchen. “You’re here because Blake told you about our legendary Christmas Eve party and you just had to see it for yourself?”

“Exactly!” Ruby said, peeking at the timer above the oven. “I heard something about a buffet?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Ruby,” Blake added. “There will be no lack of buffets this weekend.”

Yang could practically see the stars in her sister’s eyes.

This would be good for Ruby; for once, she wouldn’t have to pretend to like Christmas less just because her dad and sister were out of sorts. There would be plenty of tinsel and gingerbread and icicle lights.

Maybe Yang would have to change her own plan a little bit, but she was alright waiting until she and Blake were back at their apartment on the night of the 25th to bring out the ring. It would still count.

Yang was pretty sure Kali was actually searching for a polite way to ask why she and Ruby weren’t spending Christmas with their own parents and family. “Our dad’s on a cruise,” Yang said offering no further explanation.

“I see,” Kali said, watching Yang intently. She likely expected there was more to the story.

Yep, she was perceptive, alright.

Just as Yang decided that maybe she should make an effort to keep her distance from Blake after all, her girlfriend - roommate, she reminded herself - leaned past her to grab a cookie from Ruby’s precariously stacked cooking racks on the island.

It shouldn’t have been so hard to remember the whole roommates thing. It wasn’t like they were lying about that, but Yang’s palms were still sweaty.

Sure enough, Kali posed her question. “He’s all by himself?”

Yang opened her mouth to respond, but Ruby beat her to it. “He’s with Yang’s mom,” Ruby said absently, peeking into the oven.

Blake’s hand landed on the small of Yang’s back, hidden behind the high countertop. Yang took a deep breath and threw a look her way. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.

Blake’s eyebrows rose just noticeably. Are you sure?

Yang smiled and blinked slowly. All good, baby.

She hoped that Blake’s hand wouldn’t fall away, but she couldn’t expect every wish she made to come true.

“Ah,” was Kali’s only response. She pried no further, bless her. Explaining their convoluted family situation wasn’t exactly how Yang wanted to kick off the weekend, so she didn’t. “Well, we’re glad you’re here. I’m sure Blake’s told you, but we love hosting people over the holidays. The boys will be in the family room.”

“Boys, plural?” Blake asked.

“One from the university, and Sun’s bringing some friends, though he neglected to tell us how many until five minutes ago. Speaking of which, I need to grab some extra sheets. Would you excuse me?”

“Of course,” Yang said, surprised the question was being directed at her. “Do what you gotta do.”

“Blake, will you show Yang where she and Ruby are sleeping?”

“Sure,” Blake said.

Kali left, and Yang let out a breath that had been burning her chest from the inside.

“Want to see your room?” Blake asked.

Ruby’s timer dinged. She opened the oven door and was apparently pleased with what she saw. She reached inside - without an oven mitt - and hissed when her fingertip touched the cookie sheet. “Ouch. Got a little excited there. We’re in the basement, Yang. Our room is huge!”

“Ruby, are you sure you won’t burn down the kitchen if we leave?” Yang joked.

“If you hurry back and don’t spend an hour mashing your faces together--”

Blake cut in. “Dad, hi!”

Yang swiveled to the back of the kitchen, where Ghira was standing. Apparently he could be shockingly quiet - something to keep in mind. He was staring at something on his phone very intently, and he gave no indication that he’d heard Ruby’s comment. Another bullet, narrowly dodged.

“Yang, your bag is with your sister’s,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in what Yang assumed was the direction of the stairs to the basement. “Blake, honey, I took yours up to your room.”

“Thanks,” Blake said.

“We’re thinking we’ll head out around 5:30 if that works for you all?”

“We’ll be ready.”

“Great.” Ghira flashed a thumbs up and passed through the kitchen after his wife.

Yang wasn’t sure what exactly was happening tonight beyond a vague suspicion of dinner reservations, but Ruby would probably be very busy until 5:30. She was already preparing her decorating station while the freshest batch of cookies cooled on top of the oven.

Blake turned to Yang, a knowing look on her face. They had an hour, and they weren’t going to waste it. “Shall we?” she asked coolly.

“Let’s check it out,” Yang said.

***

“It gets a little cold down here, so there are extra blankets and a space heater ready to go,” Blake explained. “Bathroom is over there.”

Yang took it all in. Ruby had been correct: the room was huge. There was a bed pushed up against one wall, but the space was otherwise mostly used for miscellaneous storage. Several boxes looked like they had been recently restacked to make room for a blow-up mattress on the floor. Amidst the cardboard boxes and plastic crates, something snagged Yang’s attention. There was a guitar case in the corner leaning against what could only be a piano covered with a black sheet. “Are those yours?”

“This used to be my music room,” Blake said shyly. “I’m still not sure how that got that piano down here.”

“If I ask nicely, will you play something for me?” Yang said, her hands finding Blake’s hips.

Blake rolled her eyes. “I play for you all the time.”

“On guitar.”

“I haven’t played piano in years.”

“So what I’m hearing is maybe.”

“You wish,” Blake said against Yang’s mouth.

They melted together for a moment, Blake’s arms around Yang’s neck, holding her as close as possible. Yang wondered, foolishly, if kissing Blake was ever going to get old - it certainly hadn’t yet, and she didn’t expect that it would in the near, middle, or far off future.

When Yang pulled away, she saw Blake, eyes still closed, pressing her lips together as if she were trying to save the taste.

“How am I doing so far?” Yang asked.

“Hmm. With the kissing or the parents?”

“Baby, I love you, but please don’t mention kissing and your parents in the same sentence again.”

Blake frowned. “Fair.”

“Seriously, though. Do you think they like me?”

“Of course they like you.” Blake kissed her again, a brief peck to drive her message home. “Sorry about my dad.”

Yang slapped a hand to her forehead. “He scared the shit out of me. I thought he knew somehow and he was gonna, like, bury me in the backyard or something.”

Blake hid her giggle (very poorly). “I’m so sorry. I promise he’ll make up for it by trying to buy your dinner.”

“That’s really sweet of him, but I--”

“Honestly, it’s already too late to argue. Whenever we plan to take people out, he calls the restaurant a full day in advance and gives them his credit card info.”

Yang recoiled a little. “Damn. He’s intense.”

Blake nodded. “A group of Indian dads trying to outsmart each other to see who gets to pay the check is basically a real-life game of Risk.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It is.” Blake looked past Yang for a moment, distant. “It really is.”

“Okay, definitely going to need to hear all of these dramatic restaurant stories another time.” Yang let go of Blake, which was really the last thing she wanted to do, given this could be the last time they were alone for a while. She threw her duffel bag onto the bed and unzipped it. “But for tonight, what do you think I should wear?”

“For dinner? Or later? Because those are very different answers.” Blake asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“What’s happening later?” Yang repeated, faux-innocent. She certainly had no expectations while they were here, but flirting was always fun.

Blake’s smile spread across her lips slowly, quietly triumphant. “Depends how good you are at dinner.”

Yang let out a shocked gasp of a laugh. While she recovered, Blake walked over and pulled something out of the duffel bag.

“I think you should wear... this.” She held up what Yang knew to be a dress - a very flattering, very nice dress with strips cut out of the waist that was perhaps a little too much for a casual dinner. Yang had brought it along in case they went somewhere extra fancy. Blake hadn’t told her much of what they’d be up to, claiming that the surprise was half the fun before admitting that about half of their plans would probably end up changing at the last minute. Yang was happy to go along with it as long as she didn’t run the risk of being underdressed. That wasn’t the sort of impression she wanted to make.

“What kind of restaurant are we going to, exactly?” Yang asked. She wasn’t about to let Ghira and Kali get away with paying for an exorbitant meal on the first night.

Blake laid the dress out on the bed. “The restaurant is a lot nicer than the one I thought we were going to, but we’re all dressing for the party afterwards.”

“I thought the party was tomorrow night,” Yang said.

“The Christmas Eve party is tomorrow night.”

“Oh, on Christmas Eve?”

Blake pursed her lips, trying not to smile. “Yes, the Christmas Eve party is on Christmas Eve.”

“Glad we got that cleared up,” Yang returned, grinning broadly.

“There’s another party tonight, which I found out was happening about an hour ago, so lucky you packed this,” Blake said. “It’s at a hotel next to the restaurant. My dad’s announcing his candidacy for mayor.”

“Oh, shit. That’s a big deal.”

“It’s a little bit of a big deal.”

“So like a medium deal.”

Blake smacked her hand over her face. “Keep saying things like that and my dad will absolutely love you.”

“Noted,” Yang said. “What are you wearing?”

“You’ll see,” Blake teased.

“First I can’t kiss you around other people and now you’re taunting me? When will the torture end?”

It was meant to be a joke, but Blake’s smile slipped. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked quietly.

Yang shrugged. “It’s a little late to go back on it now. But yes, I think I’ll survive. Whatever you need, Blake.”

“I love you so much,” was Blake’s reply.

“Love you, too. Now please, close your eyes while I strip.”

Blake make an indignant sound in her throat. “Roommates see each other naked all the time.”

“Sure. Roommates like Sappho and her friends.”

Blake gave Yang’s shoulder a playful shove, and Yang took the chance to grab her by arm and pull her in. Before Blake could get out whatever witticism she had prepared, Yang was kissing her again, and any thoughts she might have had of arguing the point dissipated.

Multiple sets of feet stomping down the stairs gave a clear signal that someone was coming, fast, and Yang forced herself to put space between herself and Blake.

A blond guy was the first one to come barreling down the stairs. The second he saw them, he was beaming. “Blake!”

“Hey, Sun,” Blake smiled.

Three more guys came down the stairs looking like an aesthetically disparate boy band running late for practice while Sun threw his arms around Blake. He couldn’t pick her up quite as high as Ghira, but Yang was sensing a trend in the household.

“Let me guess. Yang?” Sun asked, separating himself from Blake. “Are you a hugger, Yang? Because I am most definitely a hugger.”

Caught off guard by the stampede, Yang looked to Blake for an answer. Blake gave a little shrug.

“Sure,” Yang said to Sun. “We can hug.”

“Yes! Bring it in,” he said.

The three other guys came into the room, too, and suddenly it felt much less large. The one with blue hair hugged Blake, and the other two - one with spiky green hair and one with asymmetrical auburn side bangs - simply waved.

“Blake, you know Neptune, of course. And Sage here is one of your mom’s advisees,” Sun said.

“Hey, Sage,” Blake said.

“Good to be here,” Sage nodded.

Sun gestured to the redhead. “And this is Scarlet.”

“Nice to meet you,” Scarlet said. “Your house is kind of amazing.”

“We met in the desert,” Sun explained.

“Oh,” Blake said, a clear furrow in her brow that Sun didn’t seem to notice. “Really?”

“Turns out he and Neptune went to high school together. How wild is that? So, when’s dinner?” Sun asked, rubbing his hands together.

Neptune answered, “Ghira said 6:30.”

Sage cut in. “I heard 5:30.”

Scarlet pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re both idiots. We’re leaving at 5:30.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“I’m telling you. 5:30.”

“Sun, what did Kali say?”

“I don’t know. I’m asking you guys.”

While they argued amongst themselves, Yang leaned into Blake’s side. “They’re not all coming to the restaurant, right?”

Blake whispered back, “They’ll probably have to get their own table.”

***

After Kali called the restaurant and warned them that their party would be a little larger than originally anticipated, Blake spent half the ride over sarcastically thanking Sun for being an endless source of holiday excitement with his last-minute guest additions. Then she spent the other half of the ride teasing him for finally figuring out what the buttons on shirts were for. Neptune took full credit for making Sun look moderately presentable for the night out, then proclaimed himself the king of evening wear. That prompted the whole car to turn their attention on him and demand his masterful fashion advice with increasingly absurd questions.

“Is it actually illegal to wear white pants after Labor Day?”

“Does yellow really clash with blonde hair or are people just cowards?”

“Ascots - yay or nay?”

Blake had volunteered to drive the minivan full of rambunctious young adults while her parents took their sleek, elegant sports car. Yang thought it was kind of ridiculous to buy a car that could only fit two people in it, but then again, she couldn’t exactly pack the whole party onto the back of her motorcycle. She wouldn’t have minded being crammed into the Belladonnas’ van if she’d been able to sit up front next to Blake, but Sun had called shotgun the second his foot was out the door. As a result, Yang was stuck in the back seat with Scarlet and Neptune, the latter of whom managed to take up way more space than should have been possible.

As it turned out, Sun and his surprise crew did not have to be relegated to a separate table. The owner was a close friend of Ghira’s, and the staff made no trouble out of accommodating the oversized party. Unfortunately, they had run out of available adult sized chairs due to the holiday rush, and the boys ended up playing a several minutes long Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament to see who would have to take the child-sized seat (Neptune lost and insisted that Scarlet had somehow cheated).

For the most part, the dinner was about as chaotic as Yang had expected going in. Ruby, Sage, and Scarlet struck up a conversation about some online game they all played, and just based on Ruby’s contagious enthusiasm, it would keep them all occupied for a while. From the sounds of it, Scarlet had quit the game several years prior, but Ruby and Sage were slowly talking him into taking it up again. Sun and Neptune were arguing over whether getting two potato-based sides would be overkill, and Kali and Ghira had half a dozen people recognize them and come by the table to say hello while they browsed the menu.

In short, the whole restaurant was loud and at least three other people at the table were talking at any moment, giving Yang plenty of openings to lean in and talk with Blake. Seeing how many ridiculous jokes she could make before Blake couldn’t hold in her laughter any longer was always an entertaining game, especially when someone asked what was so funny and Blake had to come up with a foolproof, deadpan cover for what they’d been discussing. Sometimes her explanations were so off the wall that Yang would burst out laughing in turn.

When their food had just come and everyone was distracted by the prospect of eating, Yang whispered, “Hey.”

“Hi,” Blake returned, already helping herself to a steak fry from Yang’s plate. “Having a good time?”

“Better than being trapped in Neptune’s body spray cloud. Can I sit up front with you on the way to the party?”

Blake shrugged. “If you can beat Sun to calling it on the way out. He’s very serious about shotgun rights. With driving, I mean. Not actual shotguns.”

Yang put a couple of extra fries onto Blake’s plate. “Sure I can’t convince you to save me the good seat?”

“With french fries?”

“Or something else.”

“Oh?”

“You look beautiful tonight,” Yang tried. It certainly wasn’t a lie - Blake was wearing a sleeveless, backless, high-collared black dress with a long, intricate lace layer running past the slip’s hemline. It was the same dress she’d worn to Yang’s birthday dinner over the summer, and it was very hard to forget how that night had ended.

“Are you trying to bribe me?” Blake asked coyly.

“Me? I would never.”

Blake’s lip curled in a way that was borderline inappropriate for a public, fancy restaurant.

Sun leaned in from Blake’s other side. “Man, that fish looks great. What are you guys talking about?”

“The ethics of bribery,” Blake stated. “And cloud formations.” Yang stifled a laugh.

“Okay. Weird,” Sun said. “So, Yang, how long have you and Blake been pals?”

Yang had to catch herself from responding automatically with how long they’d been dating - that was the question she was asked more often at this point. “Six and a half years, I think?”

“Damn, that long? I mean, I’ve heard a ton about you, but how come we’ve never met before?”

Blake gave him a look. “Because whenever you come to see me, all you want to do is sit around at my apartment. And you haven’t visited in a year.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, Blake,” Yang said, faux-seriously. “He was very committed to his spiritual awakening.”

“Exactly! Thank you, Yang,” Sun said obliviously. He reached around Blake and clapped Yang on the shoulder. “Guess I’ll see you for sure the next time I come out, right?”

“Why would you see her?” Blake asked, ears pricking up. She glanced across the table at her parents.

“Don’t you guys live together?” Sun asked.

“Yep,” Yang said cheerily, hoping to smooth over Blake’s sudden spike in nerves. “Lucky for Blake. I cook, I clean, and I can pretty much bring plants back from the dead. She’s got the best roommate ever.”

Blake rested her chin on her hand, elbow against the table, almost completely blocking Sun from Yang’s view. Not that Yang cared to see anyone else when Blake was looking at her to begin with. “Yeah, I am pretty lucky,” Blake said, just loud enough for Yang alone to hear.

Instead of standing up on her chair and shouting how in love she was, which was what she wanted to do very much in that moment, Yang opted to hold Blake’s hand under the table.

Sun, surprisingly, was still present, along with the rest of the people in the restaurant. “So how’d you meet?” he asked.

“College,” Blake said quickly. “We had a class together.”

They’d never had a class together in eight semesters, but Blake clearly didn’t want the whole table knowing that she and Yang’s friendship had started after they’d drunkenly made out at a party their junior year.

“Oh, cool,” Sun said. He looked to Yang. “You’re into art history, too?”

Yang’s eyes went wide. She loved listening to Blake talk about this sort of stuff, but she was in no way prepared to lie her way through an entire conversation masquerading as an art history aficionado.

Fortunately, Ghira chose to interrupt right then. Even at his normal speaking volume, his voice cut through the din of the restaurant and carried across the table easily. “Blake, honey, how was your food?”

“Can I let you know once I’ve actually tried it?” Blake asked with a smug little smile.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Ghira said, putting on an air of false humility. “I saw you stealing fries off of Yang’s plate and assumed you must have polished off your own meal already.”

“Dad.” Blake rolled her eyes.

Kali tapped her husband’s arm with the butt of her fork. “Ghira, did you tell her the good news?”

“What news?” Blake asked her father.

Ghira started cutting through his steak, sawing his knife across the slab of meat. “Sienna Khan has RSVP’d for the event tonight.”

“Isn’t that incredible?” Kali added.

Next to Sun, Neptune talked through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Who’s Sienna Khan?”

“The leader of a very influential local advocacy group,” Kali explained. “Getting her endorsement would set Ghira up with an early lead that would be hard to close.”

Ghira nodded along calmly, but he was starting to slice his steak faster and faster.

Sun chimed in. “Blake and I interned for Sienna one summer in high school. She’s really cool.”

“Yes,” Ghira agreed. “She is. Very... very cool.” With that, his knife hit his plate, and Yang could’ve sworn she heard the plate crack.

Kali rubbed his back. “You’ll be just fine, sweetie.”

Ghira looked more than a little nervous. “I hope you’re right. Sienna’s a hard woman to impress.”

“Sun,” Kali started, turning the attention off of her husband, “Was that the same summer that I caught you and Blake up in the treehouse?”

Blake stared daggers across the table. “Mom.”

“Huh?” Sun had a look of pure confusion on his face - and then it hit him. His whole face turned bright red. “Oh.”

“I thought so,” Kali said, entirely bemused.

“Okay. Yang, bathroom?” Blake tugged on Yang’s hand. She was already rising from her chair.

Yang waved her off, grinning wide. “Oh, I’m good. I want to hear this.”

Blake set her jaw. Her head tilted just a little, enough to look purely inquiring to anyone unfamiliar with the subtler punctuation points of her body language. She really did not want Yang to hear this story - at least not from Kali.

“Excuse us for a second,” Yang said to side of the table she’d been talking with (Ruby was in the middle of a monologue about talent trees and probably wouldn’t have noticed if the sky started falling).

Blake dragged Yang towards the back of the restaurant, flung the restroom door open, and checked the stalls - empty.

“You know, if you wanted to make out in the bathroom, you could have just asked,” Yang joked. She leaned back against the sinks while Blake paced along a tight, short line of tile.

“Look,” Blake began, unfazed by Yang’s attempt at levity. “Sun and I kissed once when we were fourteen. I never told you because it never felt important.”

“Blake,” Yang said.

“We both agreed it felt off as soon as it happened. That’s it. I swear.” Her hands were flying as she spoke, gesturing wildly, defensive.

“Blake, I’m not mad.”

Blake stopped pacing at looked at her. “You’re not?”

Yang hopped down from her perch to meet her. “Of course not. I don’t need to know every person you’ve kissed. If I tried to go through my whole list, we’d miss dessert.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Blake said. She pressed her palms against her eyes, and her hands slid to frame her face.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I feel like I’m acting so weird. Just being back here... it’s a lot. It’s always a lot, but,” Blake paused to breathe. “You know.”

“I’ll tell you what’s weird,” Yang said, tilting Blake’s chin up. “Sitting next to you out there and having to stay totally cool when you’re being the cutest person at the table.”

Blake’s lips cracked into a smile. “Yeah.”

“Baby, when it comes down to it, I don’t care who you’ve kissed before as long as I get to kiss you now.”

Blake brought their lips together for a lingering moment. When they separated, she said, “I really do have the best roommate, don’t I?”

“Nope,” Yang said. “I do.”

“That was cheesy, even for you.”

“Hey, I’ve had to keep it bottled up for hours. Not my fault it’s coming out all at once.”

Blake cupped Yang’s jaw on both sides and squished her face. “You are insufferable.”

Yang wiggled her eyebrows and hoped that it looked absolutely ridiculous on top of the face-squishing. “In the best way, though, right?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Blake agreed. She planted another brief kiss on Yang’s lips. “Ready to get back out there?”

“Put me in, coach,” Yang said with a salute.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe I’m in love with you.”

Yang caught herself as she passed the mirrors, figuring it might look a little suspicious if she went back to the table beaming like a just-kissed idiot.

As soon as they stepped outside, Blake nearly collided with someone. “Ilia?”

Oh, Ilia?

“Hey, Blake,” the woman said. “Fancy seeing you here. Though I guess everyone here’s trying to look fancy, huh?”

Yang chuckled. She looked Ilia over - she was in a tall pair of leather boots and a short, black jumpsuit, the kind of look that most people might deem brave for a nice restaurant. But Ilia, with her hands in her pockets, didn’t seem to care, and Yang liked her right away. “Cool boots,” Yang said sincerely.

“Thanks,” Ilia replied. She looked to Blake expectantly.

After a split second, Blake caught on. “Right. Ilia, this is Yang. She’s--”

“Insufferable,” Yang filled in.

Blake elbowed her in the ribs.

“We’re roommates,” Yang corrected.

“Uh-huh,” Ilia said. Either she wasn’t buying it in the slightest or she was very much done with this interaction. “Well, it’s good seeing you, Blake. Maybe I’ll catch you at the party later.”

“Yes, you will,” Blake said.

“Mind if I just...” Ilia pointed past them towards the restroom door.

“Of course. Sorry.” Blake shuffled out of the way, and Ilia disappeared into the bathroom.

Yang turned to her girlfriend, who was uncharacteristically out of sorts. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Blake said, her voice pitching high.

“So that’s Ilia?”

“Yep.”

Yang nodded slowly to herself. “As in the first girl you ever kissed Ilia?”

“Yes,” Blake confirmed. “I’m so--”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Yang reminded. “However, just so I’m not caught off guard again, can you tell me if you’ve kissed any of the waiters?”

Blake tapped her knuckles against Yang’s arm in a light reprimand.

“I’m not judging,” Yang said, hands raised. “You know how I was in college.”

“What, all over me?”

“Is that supposed to be a ‘gotcha?’ I’d be all over you right now if I could.”

Refusing to smile at that, Blake bit her lip.

“Shall we?” Yang said, gesturing to their giant table.

The rest of the meal went off without any significant incidents, save for Neptune accidentally spilling his ice cream in Sun’s lap. Blake had to stop Sun from dumping his ice cream on Neptune’s head in retaliation by making the argument that Neptune losing his ice cream was punishment enough.

Sure enough, Ghira had paid the bill well in advance, and Yang didn’t try to argue. Ruby insisted that their dad had given them money for food while he was gone, but Yang got her to drop it by suggesting that they save that money and buy more baking ingredients. Cookies always won out with Ruby.

When they left the restaurant around 8, Yang was careful to get ahead of Sun. As soon as her foot hit the sidewalk, she made her move.

“Shotgun!”

Sun rushed out behind her. “Hey, no fair. Everyone’s got to be outside for it to count.”

“Is everyone outside now?” Blake asked.

He looked to the door just as Scarlet let it close behind him. “Yeah, looks like it.”

“Cool. Shotgun,” Yang repeated.

Sun groaned.

“Sorry, Sun,” Blake sang. She and Yang headed for the car, the backs of their hands brushing ever so briefly through their gloves.

***

Even after knowing the Belladonnas for only a few hours, Yang could have guessed that they knew how to plan a classy, classy event. Ghira was one of the major sponsors for the party at the hotel, and it turned out to be a cocktail hour complete with, yes, buffets. Despite having just eaten, Ruby was undeterred, and she and the boys quickly broke off from the group to examine the available spreads. Sun asked Sage how much he could theoretically carry in his pockets, and Yang suspected that it was better to have plausible deniability of whatever food crimes were imminent from their group. She stayed close to Blake, who was trying to convince her father to talk to the legendary Sienna Khan sooner rather than later. As it turned out, Ghira Belladonna’s way of combating nervousness was through aggressive rationalization.

“I don’t think it’s good idea,” Ghira argued. “If I talk to her now and I don’t tell her I’m running, she’ll find out later along with everyone else. I don’t want her thinking she’s only as important as anyone else in the crowd.”

“As mayor, shouldn’t all of your constituents hold equal standing?” Blake countered.

“I’m just saying that I should wait and talk to her later. If I go now and I do tell her that I’m running, she’ll think I’m only reaching out to get her endorsement.”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” Blake said flatly. “She knows that. You don’t need you be smooth. You just need to be honest. Sienna knows you, and she knows you want what’s best for the community. You just have to convince her that you’re the right person to lead right now.”

Ghira crossed his arms, a strangely petulant gesture for such a regal man.

Kali put a hand on his shoulder. “Honey, I think you’re overthinking this a little bit.”

He shook his head. “Sienna hates politicians. Always has. According to her, they’re the biggest barricades to progress and their morals are ‘flimsy at best.’ That’s a direct quote. She hasn’t backed a candidate for mayor in 25 years, so why would she change that now just because we’ve worked together? She’s always gotten things done faster by going around the red tape and doing what needs to be done instead of waiting for permission from every board and bureaucrat in town. You know this, Blake. I’m sure she told you all about it when you worked with her.”

“It sounds like you really understand where she’s coming from,” Blake tried. “Lead with that.”

“And take Blake with you,” Kali suggested. “Maybe she can help break the ice.” Kali leaned in and whispered to Blake, “Or keep him calm.”

Blake frowned. “I doubt she remembers me from 13 years ago.”

“Good luck. You’ll both be great. I’m off to greet some advance donors.” Kali broke off from their pod.

Ghira looked like a kid waiting to find out if he could have chicken nuggets for dinner.

Blake hesitated and looked to Yang. “Will you be okay on your own for a bit?”

“Are you kidding?” Yang said. “There are about eighty different buffets here to explore. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

It was sweet that Blake was so worried, but if there was one thing Yang could do without breaking a sweat, it was handle herself at a party. Sure, she was also looking for every opportunity to win Ghira and Kali over and encouraging Blake to tag along with her dad would certainly help with that, but Yang would have agreed anyway.

Blake had a way of encouraging big, important changes to come to fruition with all of her tenacity and unwavering convictions.

Yang wanted to support that however she could. “Go,” she said softly.

Blake cast the warmest smile over her shoulder as she left with her father.

The party was impressive overall, but the thing that stood out most was how the guests actually seemed to enjoy talking to each other. There were animated conversations happening at almost every cocktail table, none of the dry, political networking garbage that Yang had expected. Ghira and Kali had attracted a group of guests who seemed genuinely invested in the event and, by extension, Ghira’s campaign. It was reassuring to see. Rarely did people in politics give a damn, and having a well-known activist like Ghira, who already had the trust of his potential constituents, serving as mayor could only bode well for the town. For those reasons (and for more selfish ones), Yang hoped that his talk with Sienna Khan went as well as it could. Maybe if he landed the endorsement and his stress levels went down, she and Blake would be able to give up their just roommates act sooner.

At a nearby table, Yang spotted one of the few people at the party she knew, though she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to approach Ilia. Even if she hadn’t been engaged in conversation with a very stylish looking woman, Yang wasn’t entirely comfortable with the concept of making small talk with her girlfriend’s ex, no matter how cool she seemed.

Yang must have been staring, because the woman at Ilia’s table pulled down her sunglasses (inside? Really?) and raised a sharp eyebrow. Ilia turned around and waved. It wasn’t like Yang had any other options for conversation, and it would be rude to just walk away now. She offered a small wave back and started for the table.

The woman in the sunglasses kept her eyes fixed on Yang the whole way, scanning her over. “Ilia, you didn’t tell me you were bringing a date,” she said. “And you certainly didn’t tell me she looked like that.” She raised her hand up, thumb touching her first finger - very nice.

“She’s Blake’s date, actually,” Ilia said. She turned to Yang. “Let me guess. She ran off to talk to have a very important conversation with a very important person about something very, very important.”

Yang wasn’t sure why Ilia said all that like it was a bad thing, but there was a sheen of bitterness over her words.

“Sorry,” Ilia said. “I should introduce you.”

The woman in sunglasses reached her hand across the table. “Coco Adel.”

Yang shook it. “Yang. And I’m not Blake’s date.”

“Please. I saw you two at the restaurant,” Ilia said.

“Really, it’s not like that.”

Ilia narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced.

Another woman came up to the table carrying two small plates stacked with chocolates. She handed one of the plates to Coco.

“Speaking of people worth adoring,” Coco said, promptly thanking her with a kiss. “This is my girlfriend, Velvet.”

“Pleasure,” Velvet said, shaking Yang’s hand. “Who is this?” she asked the table.

“Blake’s girlfriend,” Ilia said.

“Oh!” Velvet clapped her hands together. “I was hoping we’d get to say hello. I saw you two walk in and you just looked so sweet.”

Alright, clearly the charade wasn’t worth keeping up at this particular table. Yang leaned her elbows on the table and lowered her voice. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Oh, honey,” Coco said sympathetically, “I know a dyke when I see one.”

Yang laughed once, very loudly, and several people turned to see the source of the sound. She wished she hadn’t done it immediately, but Coco’s attitude was shockingly refreshing.

Ilia scowled at her company. “Coco,” she reprimanded.

Despite it, Coco continued. “This girl looks like she’d take someone calling her straight as an insult.”

Not inaccurate, but Ilia was still frowning and a few people were glancing over, so Yang thought it best not to egg Coco on.

“Don’t worry,” Velvet added, “we won’t mention you and...” she gestured in Blake’s direction, “to anyone. It’s your business to tell or not.”

“Speaking of which, why are you hiding it?” Ilia asked. It sounded a little like an accusation. “You’re not forcing her back into the closet or something, are you?” Well. That sounded even more like an accusation.

“Ilia,” Velvet chastised, mimicking Ilia’s tone from moments ago exactly.

Coco chuckled. “Look at her. If she’s in the closet, the door’s gift-wrapped in plaid.”

Velvet, apparently the only person at the table with normal manners, poked Coco in the arm.

“What?” Coco asked innocently. When she saw Velvet’s face, she rolled her eyes over the top of her glasses. “Ugh. You’re right. Yang, you’re out, right?”

“Yeah,” Yang replied. “Thanks for the concern, but I’m really not offended.”

“Blake is, too. She has been since high school. So what’s the problem?” Ilia asked.

“The whole laying low thing was Blake’s idea,” Yang said, suddenly feeling very much like Ilia was shining a bright light directly into her eyes. “She didn’t want to stress her dad out with big news while he was preparing for tonight. Once things calm down, she’ll tell them.”

Ilia didn’t say anything else, but she still looked suspicious. Yang was starting to think that might just be her natural state.

Yang shifted back onto her heels. By this point, she was very much wishing that she’d followed Ruby to the buffet instead. Meeting new people was fun, usually, but this was getting a little too close to an interrogation.

“Big news, huh? So you two are serious?” Coco asked, sounding like she was fishing for a gossip column.

Despite her mild discomfort, Yang couldn’t stop a smile from creeping in. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“You should really see your face right now,” Coco said. “It’s a miracle you’ve been able to keep it a secret this long. Thank goodness straight people are so oblivious.” She leaned across the table like she was sharing a secret at a sleepover. “Honestly, I don’t blame you for looking all lovestruck. If I had to go an hour without kissing Velvet, I’d probably be twice as bad.”

Velvet smiled at her. “You manage fine when we’re at work.”

“I’m just a good actress. Trying to be professional when you’re right next to me being so devastatingly brilliant with your camera is hell on Earth.”

With a giggle, Velvet kissed her.

Coco tossed a look at Yang. “See? I hardly made it a minute.”

Yang couldn’t explain how much she wanted to be able to do the same with Blake, bring her chocolate covered strawberries and hold her hand and kiss her without having to think twice. Coco was right - it was getting more difficult by the hour. By the minute, now.

“I admire your self-control,” Coco said, winding her arm around Velvet’s waist. “But I can’t say I envy it.”

Ilia had busied herself with stirring her drink and was staring thoughtfully at the ice cubes swirling around inside the glass. Coco and Velvet were as wrapped up in each other as they could be, and Yang felt that the lull was as good an opportunity for an exit as she would get.

“Well, it was great to meet you all,” she said. “I should probably go stop my sister from trying to eat the decorative gingerbread houses.”

Before she could leave, Ilia caught her by the elbow. “Be careful, Yang.”

“I mean, Ruby’s definitely a lot to handle on a sugar high, but I think I’ll be alright.”

“With Blake,” Ilia clarified. “It’s easy for her to live in her head. Don’t let her get stuck in there.”

Ilia must have known all about Adam and the rift that had formed between Blake and her parents because of him. In all likelihood, she (along with Sun, maybe) had been the one to comfort Blake after that breakup, which Blake described as “messy would be an understatement.” Yang knew all too well that Blake had the occasional tendency to disappear into places and times she’d been before, and it wasn’t always easy to pull her back. It was a careful balance, giving her enough space to process whatever she needed to feel and knowing when to give her a gentle nudge back towards the present.

Yang was certainly no stranger to slipping into the past either - she did it every holiday season, after all. She always had to stop herself from remembering the Christmases that had come before their family had fractured enough to let such traditions fall through the cracks. Ruby had been so small then, and Summer... well, she’d been there. And then, one year, after presents had been opened and Christmas dinner had been eaten, she was gone.

The cold air snapped Yang out of it as she stepped outside onto a balcony. After talking with Ilia, Coco, and Velvet, the spacious hotel lobby felt oppressively stifling, and she needed a moment of quiet without worrying that someone might be watching from across the room, making unwelcome assumptions.

Coco wasn’t wrong about anything she’d said, and that was the worst part. Until someone pointed it out, Yang hadn’t realized just how difficult it was to hide how she felt about Blake. She could avoid touching or making certain kinds of jokes, but she just wasn’t built to push her feelings down, despite her best efforts to do so at various stages of her life.

When she was two, she threw a nuclear temper tantrum at the barber shop when Raven took her to her first haircut. Three hours later, her father finally showed up to see what was taking so long only to find Yang sitting alone in the chair while the barber tried not to panic. She didn’t remember it, but for years, even after Ruby was born, Yang shut down any negative emotion without even realizing she was doing it. If she only let Summer see her smile, then maybe she wouldn’t leave, too. She made really good cookies, and Yang wanted her to stay. Plus, having a baby sister was fun, and that only got better once Ruby developed a full personality.

Each time Yang felt angry or sad, she worried that something was wrong with her - it was enough to scare her mother off, after all. Her father had tried to explain that it wasn’t Yang’s fault, that Raven just wasn’t ready to be a mother, but how could a toddler understand that?

As a teenager, all of that changed. Yang had a decade to make up for, and every repressive instinct she’d learned started to burn at the edges. Eventually everything came bursting to the surface like flames erupting atop a pool of oil. She swung hard in the other direction, her temper turning explosive. She found a happy medium of sorts by the end of college, largely coming to understand when to keep things to herself and when to make her feelings known, regardless of whether they were pleasant or unpleasant. Emotion stopped being completely separate from reason once everything she felt stopped being steeped in her own hurt and fear.

Just because she had largely come to terms with her own pain didn’t mean Blake had done the same.

Yang understood why Blake was afraid to tell her parents about them. Crossing that bridge away from the past might be easier with a guarantee of security on the other side, but that was hard to see through the fog of experience. Blake needed to know that her parents would take those vital steps forward with her instead of yelling at her to turn back, and the best way to ensure that, she thought, was to wait. They seemed to like Yang well enough, but would that change when they found out what she was to their daughter? Would they still worry the way they had when Blake was 16? Or would they help her move on? Did they even know that was what she needed?

For all of those reasons - and helping Blake feel safe was the best reason imaginable - Yang had convinced herself that she could keep her feelings quiet for a few days. It was what Blake needed, what she wanted. Yet what Yang wanted was to run inside and sweep Blake up in her arms and proclaim her love in front of hundreds of people.

If Blake had been at all interested in grand, public gestures, the party would have been the perfect place to reveal the velvet box that was instead tucked in the pocket of a duffel bag. Yang could understand wanting to keep their most personal moments between just the two of them, and she was on the same page much of the time. But there was a difference between privacy and keeping secrets.

If everything went according to plan, they wouldn’t have to do it much longer. Until then, Yang needed some advice.

Her legs were starting to get cold and her fingertips were frozen enough that her phone took a moment to register her touch, but her call went through soon enough.

“If you’re calling to check on the plants, everything is fine,” Weiss said, notes of irritation coloring her voice already. She’d made it abundantly clear that she could and should be trusted with this task, and clearly she’d taken Yang’s call as an expression of doubt in her home gardening capabilities.

“Not what I was calling about, but glad to hear it,” Yang said. “You really haven’t killed the orchid?”

The eye roll was audible through the phone. “It’s been half a day, Yang. The orchid is absolutely fine. I told you I could follow directions.”

“I’m gonna need a proof of life photo,” Yang joked.

“Fine. You know, Blake has very good taste in plants,” Weiss said, presumptuously.

Yang put on a pout, knowing Weiss couldn’t see it but hoping she might be able to hear it all the same. “I helped pick most of them.”

“This cactus is particularly lovely,” Weiss said, her tone inventing the paradox of aggressive nonchalance. “If I were interested in buying one as a gift for someone, where might I make such a purchase?”

“Pretty sure Blake got that one from a random stand on the side of the road this summer.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

Something was definitely up, but Yang had other things to worry about. If Weiss had indeed killed their cactus, it would be far from Yang’s worst Christmas. “Weiss, as you’ve just proven with that weird question and vague follow-up, you’re an expert at hiding your emotions.”

Weiss scoffed. “Excuse you. I go to therapy.”

Yang squeezed her eyes shut, already cringing over what she had to say next. “How can I act like I’m less in love with Blake?”

There was a brief pause, and Yang could practically hear Weiss’ eyes narrowing in suspicion. “This better not be one of those convoluted schemes where you act like you’re going to break up with someone right before proposing to them.”

“Gross, no. Nothing like that.”

“So what’s wrong?”

Yang debated on whether it was worth going through the whole explanation now considering she was pretty sure she already knew what Weiss would say. She’d ask why Yang had gone along with such a ridiculous idea in the first place given how loud she usually was about their relationship - and then she’d probably hang up and call Blake to ask why she had thought this was an idea worth pursuing at all. Weiss didn’t know much about Blake’s past, especially not when it came to dating. That wouldn’t turn out to be a fun phone call for anyone.

“Why do you need to pretend like you aren’t disgustingly in love, exactly?” Weiss elaborated.

Yang rubbed her forehead, realizing that she really couldn’t answer this question without some context and utterly dreading the act of supplying it. “Her parents don’t know we’re together,” she said quickly.

There was a pause from the other end of the line.

“Weiss?”

“I’m sorry. Do you think your father wouldn’t notice you and Blake making heart eyes at each other every five seconds?”

“What?” Yang didn’t understand - her father was on a boat, probably eating questionably health-code-friendly shrimp.

Weiss did her the grace of explaining. “Unless something’s going on, parents tend to notice these kinds of things. You two really thought you’d be able to keep it a secret from two people who have known Blake her entire life? Why on Earth did you think this would work?”

When she put it that way, it sounded like an absurd plan from its very conception. “I don’t know. She said her dad is really busy and she didn’t want to stress him out.”

“I think I’d be pretty stressed if I found out my child was hiding the love of their life from me,” Weiss retorted.

Well. There wasn’t a winning way to respond to that, but some very light groveling might do the trick. “Okay, I get it. Clearly we didn’t think this through. But it’s too late now, so I need some actual help here,” Yang pleaded.

“Wait, does this mean you’re not sticking your tongues down each other’s throats all the time? Have you considered keeping this up when you come back?”

Yang replied with her fakest laugh. “Hilarious, ice queen. Sorry to burst your bubble, but she’s telling them as soon as all this campaign stuff is done. Until then, what the hell do I do?”

“Step one: try not to stick your tongue down her--”

“Yes, I got that. Thanks.”

“Step two: talk to your girlfriend and tell her she’s undermining her own hard-earned reputation as a capable tactician.” Weiss had lost exactly one game of Settlers of Catan to Blake, and she was never, ever going to forget it.

Yang shook her head. “Oh my god. I don’t know why I thought you would be helpful.”

“I’m right and you know it.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Yang sang into the phone.

Weiss replied with an indignant scoff. “I kept your plants alive. You can at least thank me for that.”

“Kinda sounds like you killed the cactus.”

“I did not!” Weiss paused. “I may have simply overwatered it.. Just a little. It’ll dry out. Probably.”

Yang actually laughed at that. Leave it to Weiss to manage the most difficult task on her list while tripping over her own feet about something she didn’t have to do in the first place. “The cactus wasn’t on the watering list, Weiss.”

“And I assumed that was a mistake!”

“So do you want me to tell Blake you killed our plant now, or should I wait and include it as a special segment in our post-holiday news broadcast?”

“I’m hanging up,” Weiss said. “But before I do, I just want to say that I do not endorse any of this. You two shouldn’t have to pretend to be something you’re not for the sake of other people’s comfort, regardless of the circumstances.”

This phone call had turned out to be the opposite of helpful in so many ways, the most egregious of which was the fact that Weiss was completely correct. Knowing that hiding things from Blake’s parents would be challenging was one thing, but Weiss’ words made Yang realize just how much she actually disliked doing it.

Yang didn’t want to rush Blake to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with, but at the same time she couldn’t keep pretending that it wasn’t driving her up the wall to keep pretending. Maybe Ghira’s talk with Sienna had gone spectacularly well and Blake would feel empowered to tell them tonight, but there was a much greater chance of an entirely neutral outcome to the political conversation in question. They were so close, but it was only going to get more difficult.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Weiss concluded.

“Like how you know how to take care of plants?” Yang asked with a grin.

Weiss hung up.

Yang planned to stay out on the balcony for a few more minutes, despite the cold, enjoying the respite from the constant motion of the party. She hadn’t expected to be found by the person she wanted to see most. Yang had seen Blake in this exact outfit barely half an hour ago, but the image of her walking out of the hotel hit like a crashing wave.

Blake always looked good; this was not news. Still, there was something particularly perfect about how the moon kissed her skin with such reverence. The night loved to cast its deep shadows, but the rare and pale light it did offer gathered to her like a dewy halo. Those amber eyes could have been distant galaxies sparkling with the potential of a thousand strange worlds, giving up none of their secrets but pulling with an irrefutable gravity. The universe, who knew everything, and the night, who tried to hide it all, somehow conspired to create this, the image of a woman who existed at the intersection of mystery and inevitability.

Honestly, Yang almost proposed right there. She probably would have if she hadn’t been struck so utterly speechless by Blake’s unceremoniously breathtaking entrance. Now she was torn between the baffling, impossible certainty of limbo and the urge to take the moon’s place on Blake’s skin.

“There you are,” Blake said, precluding any of those possibilities. For now. “My dad’s doing his speech soon.”

“Do we have a minute?” Yang asked. Another question almost slipped out in its place.

“Sure.” Blake joined her at the railing.

Yang wished all of that nonsense about being too close and too far all at once held less truth. “I talked to Ilia for a bit,” she said.

Blake laughed, sweet and soft. “I heard. She likes you.”

“Really? She’s kind of intense, so I wasn’t sure,” Yang admitted.

“Yeah. She’s always been like that. Not easy to impress. Even harder to tell whether you’ve succeeded or failed.”

Yang stopped pretending she cared about the view of the city past the balcony and turned to fully face Blake. With her heart caught in her throat, a less romantic confession tumbled out. “She figured it out.”

“What?”

The back of Yang’s neck was suddenly very warm under her collar. “Us.”

“Oh.”

“I swear I didn’t tell her. But she and Coco and Velvet promised they wouldn’t say anything,” Yang said.

Blake thought for a moment. “Ilia’s pretty good at keeping things to herself. Coco probably doesn’t care enough to tell anyone, and Velvet’s way too nice to break that kind of promise. Sun, on the other hand... not so much. As long as he doesn’t know, I think we’re fine for now.”

Yang smiled, but she had to keep herself from pulling Blake closer. The doors were glass, and the balcony was still very much visible from the party inside. “It’s kind of amazing to meet all of these people who have been so important to you.”

Blake tapped her finger on the banister and looked like she was struggling to keep her distance the same way Yang was. It was comforting in a way - at least Yang wasn’t alone.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Blake said instead. Her words came out in that soft voice that she only ever used when it was just the two of them, the one that made Yang feel like she was being slowly unraveled, thread by thread.

“Me too, baby,” Yang returned.

Blake smiled, but it was heavy and and unsure.

“How was the meeting with Sienna?” Yang asked.

“Not great. Don’t tell my dad I said this, but he completely chickened out. She asked him why he’d decided to have this event the night before hosting another party, and he said he ‘thought it would be festive.’ Then he talked about the riveting science of tinsel decoration for ten minutes.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah. But Sienna said she’s coming tomorrow night, so maybe he’ll actually figure out how to have a normal conversation with her by then.”

“Haven’t they worked together before?” Yang asked. She recalled hearing about a number of projects Ghira had headed over the years, and many of them sounded like things Sienna Khan would make time for.

Blake nodded seriously as she answered. It was cute - she had a habit of shifting into a much more business casual demeanor whenever such topics came up. “They’ve been in the same activist circles for a long time, but putting your future in someone else’s hands is a big deal.”

Yang stomach flipped. That certainly could be nerve wracking. In a good way. Or in a bad way.

“Yeah,” she responded, very obviously delayed.

Blake cocked her head. “You okay?”

“Just a little tired.” It was true, technically. Pretending took a lot of energy, and on top of that, she was keeping her own secret all to herself.

“Too tired to go out tonight?” Blake asked slowly, dreadfully teasing.

Yang retreated a step, partially to play along but mostly because she was afraid she might start to freeze if she didn’t start moving. Putting on her lowest, most enthralling voice, Yang asked, “Blake Belladonna, are you asking me on a date? On Christmas Eve Eve?”

“Sort of. It wouldn’t be just us,” Blake admitted. “Sun wants to go to a club.”

It was, in a very obvious way, not a great idea for an outing. Clubs were dark and loud and full of people dancing with varying degrees of overt profanity. Clubs were also the perfect place to slip into a corner and get to know another person in a very specific way. They weren’t conducive to self-control at all.

On the other hand, this could be good - it could give them an excuse to break through the crushing space being between them. “You had me at club,” Yang said.

Blake put on an unimpressed mask, one that Yang took as a heartfelt acknowledgement of her terrible joke. “That was the end of the sentence.”

“So? You know I listened all the way to the end. You’re welcome.”

Despite her best efforts, Blake’s lip curled. “Aren’t you just the pinnacle of chivalry.”

Yang felt her own grin start in reply. “I hope that earns me at least one dance later.”

Blake gazed up at her, still a few inches shorter even in her low heels. Dropping the charade for just a moment to blossom like a moonflower, she smiled. It reminded Yang how it felt to look at the stars on the clearest night and watch an aurora burst forth from the darkness.

“Darling,” Blake said, “you’ve got all my dances.”

***

Yang wasn’t surprised when Ruby decided to head back to the house instead of going along to the club. Given all of the cookies Ruby had sampled while baking, she was likely hitting the tail end of a serious sugar crash, and she wasn’t much of a nightclub person to begin with.

Kali offered to let Ruby drive back to the house in the minivan, prompting Sun and Neptune to simultaneously ask if this meant they could drive Ghira’s convertible. (“The answer, as it has remained for the past fourteen years, is no.”)

Rideshare would do just fine to get them all home. Even though Yang could have been the designated driver, it was definitely the best option. Realistically, trying to wrangle Sun and his friends into the back of the minivan would be an unpleasant experience for everyone involved, even if the image was kind of hilarious. Not having to worry about getting everyone back in one car also gave certain parties the option of leaving early. Given the day she’d had so far, all Yang really wanted to do was climb into bed next to Blake (or under her, if she kept looking at Yang like she was a slab of fresh tuna every time the boys were distracted with another round of shots).

“You sure you don’t want one, Blake?” Sun asked for the fifth time.

“I’m fine,” Blake said, also for the fifth time.

Yang didn’t touch alcohol except to clean up errant knee scrapes, and she certainly didn’t need it to feel her skin buzz when Blake was hovering so close to her side. Any other night, in any other place, Yang would have grabbed her around the waist, chin settling on her shoulder as soon as they’d found a place to sit.

It was dark and hot in the nightclub, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to handle it.

The boys knocked back their round and slammed their shot glasses onto the table - well, three of them did. Sage was sipping his tiny glass rather daintily.

“Sage, dude. You’re supposed to do it all at once. Like, boom! That’s why it’s called a shot,” Neptune said.

“What?” Sun asked. “That doesn’t sound right, man.”

“I mean, don’t quote me, but I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

Scarlet shook his head blearily, probably disagreeing as much as he was trying to shake his vision back into one frame. Of the four of them, he seemed to have the lowest tolerance, though Sage’s generally restrained demeanor and refusal to partake in the typical shots consumption ritual made his current state a little more vague. “It’s because of cowboys,” Scarlet slurred.

“No way,” Neptune insisted. “That makes less sense than mine.”

“Nope. Cowboys. Cow... men. In the hats and the belt buckles. They tradeded bullets for shiskey. Whiskey,” Scarlet explained.

Sage glanced at Scarlet, his eyes much more lucid than any of the others. “I think we should probably slow down.”

“Says the guy sipping a shot with his pinky up,” Sun commented, aggressively pointing his finger into Sage’s chest.

Neptune snickered and tucked himself into a little ball in the corner of their booth, utterly overtaken by a giggle fit.

Yang looked between the four of them. “Not the drunk personalities I would have pinned on most of these guys, but I guess you never know.”

Blake was watching Neptune, who had fallen completely onto his side, still guffawing. “Glad they’re having fun.” She turned to look at Yang. “I think they can supervise themselves for a little bit, don’t you?”

“We’re fine,” Scarlet said, speaking the second word over a loud burp.

Neptune had started crying a little, but he might have still been laughing, too. It was hard to tell. Either way, Sun was patting him on the head, so he’d probably be fine.

“Can we dance?” Blake asked.

As much as Yang wanted to jump at the opportunity, she wasn’t sure what the boundary was here. “Can we?” she asked in return. If sober Sun couldn’t be trusted with secrets, drunk Sun must have been even worse at keeping private things private.

Blake did another quick sweep of their company and took Yang’s hand. “Come on.”

The floor wasn’t packed to the point of sweaty discomfort, but that would also give them less cover. Yang might have taken the crowd over having to stay what felt like a lightyear away from her dance partner.

Really, Blake wasn’t the best dancer in the world, but she wasn’t self-conscious about it. She mostly just bopped around and jumped to the music, and she cared more about having fun than looking good.

The only person she cared to impress already knew that her dance abilities were not necessarily a negative indicator of overall physical coordination. When it counted, Blake could hold a tempo.

Dancing always reminded Yang of when they first met. College parties weren’t famously romantic settings, necessarily, but everything that had come in the years since made her a little nostalgic whenever she heard loud, pumping electronic music. Anything involving Blake could make Yang’s heart skip a beat, even if the the amped up bass was rattling her teeth at the same time.

Yang had always liked dancing. It was the most wonderfully freeing thing, losing herself in sound. And touch, if the situation allowed. She didn’t trust her hands to behave on their own, so she settled for raising her arms high above her head. It was easier to shut her brain off like this, bathed in sensation.

Soon enough, she’d forgotten about secrets, Christmas, and the abandoned booth of goofy drunk boys altogether.

Which was why it was too easy to move in closer when Blake’s hand brushed over her hipbone.

It was more than a habit - it was instinct, responding so readily to Blake’s touch. The barest graze of fingertips on exposed skin was enough to spark it, and Yang wasn’t one to douse a fire. At the moment, she was having a difficult time recalling why she even should. So she danced closer, just a little, until Blake obliterated the space between them.

Blake watched intently as the tempo of the music translated directly from Yang’s hips to her own, hands clinging to their rhythm.

Yang needed those hands to roam of their own volition, not stay respectfully at her waist.

Blake could be shy, occasionally, but Yang had learned all of the best ways to break her out of that. Sometimes all she needed was the smallest bit of encouragement.

Yang’s palms met Blake’s bare shoulders, and the spark ignited.

For some fuzzy reason this wasn’t supposed to happen. But why? What could possibly be wrong about the feeling of Blake’s exhale, hot against her neck, except that it was so painfully fleeting? Yang wanted that breath to bruise, to wrap her up in a different kind of music. It was all she wanted, in that moment, to feel Blake’s mouth trace a constellation across her throat.

Turning her head felt like too easy of a solution. Her lips would slide into place against Blake’s, want sated for all of a few seconds before the inevitable heat struck.

Even while they kept up with the music, the taut potential of movements yet untaken became almost too much to contain. Yang remembered feeling the same way the first time she kissed Blake for real - not at the party where they met and spent half an hour in each other’s laps, but after their first real date, when Yang took Blake to the best taco place in town. Some moments were punctuated more concretely, with a question mark or even a comma. But that kiss had felt more like an asterisk, a promise that there was more waiting below the surface that would make itself known with a little effort. And it had - made itself known - on their third date when Blake asked Yang not to judge that she hadn’t finished unpacking from her move a few months prior. Yang hardly noticed the cardboard boxes even after Blake drew attention to them, too focused on the sheets on Blake’s bed and the way they looked crushed in her fists.

If it was difficult then not to give in to that gravity, now it was impossible.

Blake’s breath quickened with the exertion and anticipation of the moment. Her lips were hovering right over the point in Yang’s neck where her pulse strained against her skin. Each beat in her veins was all the more distinct alongside the bleeding bass that dripped like wet paint, coloring the space around them with an obscuring opacity. Dangerous, a voice reminded in the back of Yang’s head. It was the only thing stopping her from meeting Blake halfway. Blake was a lot of things - in some ways, she was everything - but she’d never been dangerous. There was something else then, something Yang was supposed to care about more than having Blake’s hands on her. But could such a thing exist?

The song changed, and the sudden absence of deep bass beating against her eardrums gave her a moment of lucidity. Keeping Blake happy and safe - ironically, that was the very reason Yang couldn’t kiss her right then.

Yang didn’t like not being able to do things the second she wanted to do them, and apparently that impatience had rubbed off on Blake. The hands on Yang’s hips tensed, fingertips digging into her back through the thin fabric of her dress.

“You good?” Yang asked over the music, which was loud enough to make her shout but still in the process of warming up to what was sure to be a hard bass drop.

One of Blake’s hands found one of Yang’s, their fingers lacing together as they came impossibly closer.

Unexpectedly, Blake answered with a, “Let’s go home,” against the shell of Yang’s ear.

“Are you sure?” Yang checked. It didn’t sound like anything was wrong, but... “We got here like 30 minutes ago.”

“Now, Yang,” Blake said.

The sudden urgency in her voice made Yang pull back - and what she saw almost knocked her down. Blake’s hair had partially fallen out of its fancy updo, the shorter pieces escaped from their pins to frame her face and ringing loosely with sweat. A deep blush colored her cheeks and spread down past the high collar of her dress, and the sheen on her skin gave the illusion that she’d just stepped in from a misty, humid night.

The music cut out for one blank measure, and Blake’s follow-up was hardly a whisper, barely a breath. “I’m taking you home.”

When the drop hit, there was no room for argument.

The next thing Yang knew, she was being led back to the booth and her jacket was on her shoulders. Blake was already calling a ride.

Sun was lying across Sage and Neptune’s laps along one side of the booth, and Scarlet had claimed the other side for himself.

“Oh, did you guys do some dancing?” Sun asked. Bless him and his complete lack of awareness. He’d probably been staring at the ceiling for the past ten minutes, completely ignorant to Yang and Blake’s departure.

Scarlet lifted his head off the table. “You’re all sweaty and red,” he commented, and then his forehead promptly returned to its resting spot on the sticky surface.

Blake ignored him completely, checking her phone twice in short succession. “We’re heading out.”

“Awww, already?” Neptune whined. “We didn’t even get to the drinking games.”

Sage shook his head at Neptune. “We played four games of pong. You lost every single time.”

“It’s not about winning, man.”

“Sure.” Sage sipped at his shot glass - presumably the same one as before.

Blake glanced at her phone again.

“How long?” Yang asked.

“Eight minutes,” Blake said through gritted teeth.

Neptune perked up. “That’s plenty of time for more pong! Sun, get up, dude.”

Sun sprang to his feet and pulled Neptune out of the booth. “I call Blake on my team!”

Yang put her arm around her girlfriend, hoping her glare would be enough to make Sun renege on his team assignments.

Blake, for her part, was fixated on her phone and entirely uninterested in playing more games of any sort. “Never mind. Our ride’s almost here. Bye, guys,” she said. With that, she was pulling Yang towards the door.

At first, the cold night air was a glorious respite after the sweltering, almost tropical bubble of the dance floor. Blake let go of Yang’s hand long enough to wrap herself up in her coat, but she started shivering almost right away.

Offering her own coat was out of the question. Yang had tried that a couple of times early on, sparking Blake to make it very clear that she did not want Yang to sacrifice any comfort just to keep her warm. Fortunately, it hadn’t taken Yang long to come up with an alternate solution.

With her hands in her pockets, she opened one side of her jacket. Before Yang could even voice her invitation, Blake glommed on to her. It always made Yang laugh, Blake’s comically low threshold of tolerance for cold weather.

Yang closed her coat as far as it would go with two people inside of it. That was when she realized that Blake was trembling, but her teeth weren’t chattering like they always did when she was freezing. When a hand slipped across her stomach and found the exposed skin on her side once more, Yang started to suspect that the source of Blake’s shivering was something rather far removed from the cold.

“Baby, you okay?” Yang asked, just in case.

Blake blew out a breath against Yang’s neck, the heat traveling down, down.

“Blake?”

She spoke slowly, like she didn’t trust her voice not to waver of its own volition. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you today...” Yang almost interrupted, but Blake caught it and tapped a finger against her parted lips. “But can you do one more thing for me?”

Yang raised an eyebrow. Whatever it was, she would do it, but now she was curious. “What?”

Her words were quiet, but they were all Yang heard. “Until we’re back home and that dress is on the floor, don’t call me ‘baby’ again. Okay?”

“I don’t know,” Yang teased. “That sounds really, really difficult, ba--”

“Don’t you dare.”

Against the cold, a grin split across Yang’s face.

“Yang,” Blake said sternly.

“I’m not doing anything.”

Blake pouted a little, and it got even harder not to kiss her. “I’m serious.”

“Hi, serious. I’m--”

A groan cut off her terrible joke. Despite the cold, Blake shoved herself off of Yang and put half a square of sidewalk between them.

“Come back,” Yang whined. “Now I’m cold.”

“You’re a human space heater,” Blake countered.

“Okay, maybe I’m not cold, but I miss you.”

“Can you stop being so...” Blake gestured loosely at her, pointing at nothing in particular. Her hand just sort of flailed in the air desperately while her eyes raked up Yang’s body, stopping at her eyes.

Yang cocked her head innocently. “So what?”

“Just--so you,” Blake finished.

“I really don’t know what you mean. I think the cold’s getting to your brain,” Yang began, sliding a little closer. She knew she was pushing Blake’s patience, but she couldn’t help it. The day had been frustrating, to say the least, and she was in the mood to see how many buttons she could press. Fine, she could follow Blake’s explicit wishes - but that didn’t mean she would make the time between now and their return to the house easy for her girlfriend.

Blake’s stare stayed fixed on the open spot of curb in front of them, her breathing carefully controlled.

“I’m just standing outside next to the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. Admiring her dress. Thinking about how hot she’d look out of it,” Yang said.

With a fleeting, sideways glance, Blake muttered something.

Yang cupped a hand around her ear and leaned dangerously closer. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

A car pulled a U-turn and swung up to the curb a little ways in front of them, and Blake’s phone chimed. She checked the license plate.

“That’s us,” Blake said. Yang started for the car, but Blake caught her by the collar of her jacket and turned her back around. “And I said: you are in so much trouble.”

“Good,” Yang smiled. “My second favorite place to be.”

Blake’s brow furrowed. “What’s the first?”

Yang just winked and headed for the car. She knew that would only raise Blake’s blood pressure further, both because she thought Yang winking was very cute (she’d admitted it all the way back at that first party) and because Blake herself could not wink if Christmas depended on it.

Once they were both in the back seat, Blake took hold of Yang’s hand and pulled it into her lap.

Their driver double checked the address, and Blake confirmed it. Just as they were about to pull away from the curb, the phone in the dashboard stand pinged.

“Looks like we’ve got one more joining us,” the driver said. “It’ll just be a couple extra minutes ‘til we get you home.”

“No problem,” Blake replied cheerfully, but she squeezed Yang’s hand hard.

A few extra minutes wouldn’t be an issue, right?

Blake’s grip seemed to tighten every passing second, never becoming uncomfortable but nonetheless betraying her placid expression. She said nothing else for the duration of the ride - eight minutes of total silence - until the car came to a stop at a corner.

The driver kept the engine idling, and the heat was on full blast. That was probably a luxury for most passengers. Clearly, that was not the case for Blake. She blew her bangs out of her face while they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Walking to the house from here would have taken at least twenty minutes by highway, but at this point Yang was pretty sure that Blake was ready to sprint the whole way back.

Plus, while she’d been teasing Blake outside of the club, Yang had foolishly forgotten that she wasn’t immune to any of it herself. She cracked her window, hoping to alleviate even a little bit of the warmth in the car.

Two minutes later, and the car was still parked. The timer on the driver’s phone went off, and they took it off the stand. “Just a second. I’m gonna see if I can flag him down.” The driver opened their door, letting a rush of cold air in. For a moment, Yang thought it might be enough to tide them over.

Then the door closed, and the pressure was back.

The driver circled the car to face the opposite street, phone up to their ear.

Yang felt a sharp tug on her hand, and then she was colliding with Blake. In a second, fingers were tangled in her hair, and Blake’s mouth was on hers, impatient and demanding. With her forearm braced on the middle seat, Yang melted like a helpless snowflake landing on a mug of hot chocolate. The kiss was the softest kind of urgent, at least until Blake’s teeth teased the edge of Yang’s bottom lip. And then it was over.

Blake was back sitting upright in her seat half a second before the front doors opened, and Yang was left doubled over the seat between them, no air left in her lungs.

Yeah, teasing Blake was the best mistake to make.

Those last six minutes of the ride felt longer than the entire day had so far. Blake made no effort to grab Yang’s hand again - not in the car, not in the driveway, and not when they passed through the kitchen and bid Ruby goodnight. Somehow, she was still baking, and since the boys were still at the club and Blake’s parents had opted to go for a drink themselves after dropping Ruby off, she was very contentedly blasting heavy metal covers of Christmas songs from her speaker. Once she saw Yang yawn, she volunteered to put on headphones in an effort to not disturb their sleep, which Blake enthusiastically supported.

Sleep would be happening. Eventually.

Whether or not Ruby noticed Yang follow Blake upstairs was unclear, although it certainly wasn’t more important than getting to Blake’s room as soon as possible. Yang reminded herself, through the haze of focus in the front of her mind, to take a moment the next day and observe the many photographs hung in the wide hallway. It would probably be fun to ask for an official tour of Blake’s room, too.

For now, they could start with the bed.

________

As soon as they were in the bedroom, Yang’s back slammed against the door loudly enough that it would have alarmed anyone else in the house - if the only other person present wasn’t a floor down and wearing construction-grade, noise-cancelling headphones.

One second Yang’s jacket was there, and the next it was gone, tossed somewhere over Blake’s shoulder. Blake’s coat was discarded so fast it was hard to remember what it even looked like.

Yang briefly considered making some clever remark about something or other, but the entire train of thought died unspectacularly on the tip of her tongue when she saw the absolutely deadly focus in Blake’s eyes. Unwilling to waste another second, Blake picked up right where she’d left off, taking Yang’s lower lip between her own and biting down with no illusion of patience. Yang hadn’t been self-conscious of the sounds Blake brought out of her in a long time, and she wasn’t about to start now.

Blake’s hand found the back of Yang’s thigh and lifted it, giving the tight red dress no choice but to ride up and bunch around her waist. Blake’s hips pressed between Yang’s legs hard - not enough to set anything off just yet, but promising.

It didn’t take long for Blake’s mouth to find its way to Yang’s neck, as it so often did. And it never, ever got old. She latched on, and Yang groaned openly at the perfect pressure over her pulse. Blake dragged lower, finding drawn muscle, and bit down. Yang’s groan broke, pitching higher, and if the door hadn’t been holding her up, she might have lost her footing entirely. Blake started to pull away, but Yang scrambled to hold her right where she was.

“Needy,” Blake muttered against Yang’s skin, leaving another searing stamp of a kiss.

“Shut up. You love me,” Yang retorted through a split gasp. Blake’s idea of an effective reprimand only served as encouragement for Yang’s attitude, and that should have earned her another bite.

Instead, Blake drew back and just looked up at her. Her shoes were gone and so were Yang’s - when, exactly? - and now there were a few more inches between them than Blake’s heels had allowed for earlier.

“Yeah, I do,” Blake said plainly.

The complete lack of argument or banter struck Yang right in the chest. They’d made the same joke dozens of times, talked about love hundreds more. Whether it was brought on by the setting or the secrecy or her plan to propose in the next 48 hours, Yang felt her stomach flip at the turn’s sudden gravity. The lucid, serene certainty in Blake’s words cut through the thick air around them, and they were a perfect binary star, dancing through the expanse of the universe in their own cozy system.

How wondrous it was to fall in love again and again, in such sparkling ways, and find the plummet just as exhilarating every time.

Yang let her hands drift up over Blake’s waist, coming to frame her face. She could feel the heat in Blake’s cheeks, the anticipation in the way her jaw flexed. The perfect combination of love, hope, and need in her amber-gold eyes cracked Yang into a million pieces and vowed, without so much as a blink, to put her back together with the most painstaking care. Yang was overcome by her favorite kind of smile: an unstoppable force that took root at one corner of her lips and grew into a lopsided grin (coincidentally, it was Blake’s favorite, too).

“Take me to bed, baby?” Yang asked, her question soft while hoping Blake would be anything but.

Blake let Yang’s leg down and kissed her, direct and firm. It was remarkably different from what she’d done in the car on the way back, all of the desperation gone and replaced with intention, confidence, control.

“Arms up,” Blake ordered.

Yang was happy to listen, and Blake stripped the red dress right over her head.

“You know it has a zipper, right?” Yang asked.

Blake narrowed her eyes. “You’re already in trouble, remember? Do you really want to sass me right now?”

“Hmm,” Yang tapped her chin. She looked back to Blake, smiled prettily, and tossed Blake’s words back at her. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay.” Suddenly Blake’s hands were retreating, taking all of their heat along with them. “Then you can take yourself to bed.”

Yang laughed. “Is that supposed to be a threat? Because I’ll do it.”

Blake’s blush flared at that. It was always fun to find out she could still be taken by surprise, even when she was putting up such a convincing front.

Apparently she was still in shock from the mere reference, her eyes wide and unblinking, so Yang figured the best thing to do was demonstrate exactly what she meant.

“What? You don’t believe me?” Yang taunted. She bit her lip, hoping Blake would take the cue and do it for her instead. She skimmed her hand over her own bra, reaching underneath with one hand as the other continued past her navel. Just as her fingers were about to dip below the band of her underwear, Blake grabbed her wrist and held fast.

Yang looked at her innocently, making no effort to break the grip. “What? You told me to.”

Blake’s palm met the back of Yang’s offending hand, fingers lacing and then slowly, slowly creeping down. Underneath her firm grip, she couldn’t stop an amused smile from coloring her voice. “Stop being a brat and get on the bed.”

“Why not right here? The bed’s so far away,” Yang argued. She hadn’t meant to outright whine about it, but right then Blake’s fingers brushed over her underwear and sent a jolt through her legs.

“Bed, Yang,” Blake repeated in a precarious whisper. “Now.”

Yang folded, like she knew she always would. She took Blake’s hand and circled close around her, backing towards their destination. “Whatever you want, baby,” she said, hearing the fondness coating her words like sugar glaze.

As she sat down on the bed, Blake climbed into her lap, and then Yang was the one looking up. When she anchored Blake’s hips with her palms, she was disappointed to remember that there was an entire layer (and a half, if the lace part of the dress counted) in the way.

“Can I take this off?” Yang asked, toying with the pointed lace edge.

Blake leaned down to kiss her once, slow and lingering, before nodding.

Yang took a second to remember what she’d been doing, then followed through. The zipper at the back of the collar was easy enough to find, and Blake helped get the dress up over her head. She dropped it on the floor in an unscrupulous pile.

Then Yang wrapped her arms around Blake’s waist, less than eager to procrastinate the whole getting kissed senseless thing but feeling a question burning in the front of her mind. “Can I be honest for a sec?”

“Are you not always?” Blake joked. She knew how honest Yang was. That commitment to frankness had gotten her in trouble on more than one occasion in life, but it was without question one of Blake’s favorite things about her.

“I didn’t think we’d get to do this while we were here,” Yang admitted. “I was planning on, like, taking a suspiciously long shower in the morning just so I could act normal around you tomorrow.”

“Wow,” Blake started, face expressionless and tone going blunt. “You thought you’d have to survive two whole days without sex, and you still came with me? Brave.”

Yang put on a fake neutral mask to match and shrugged. “Well, like I said, I actually didn’t think I’d get to come with you at all.”

Blake closed her eyes, almost pained, and knocked her forehead against Yang’s. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“Absolutely. It was one hundred percent your fault.”

Thankfully, the bad joke didn’t make Blake mad enough to stop kissing her.

Yang pulled her closer until they were flush against each other, Blake grounding herself with a tight grasp in Yang’s hair. For a moment, they were suspended there, two stars colliding. This, Yang noted, was her most favorite place to be: with Blake, infinity laid bare before them.

“Hey,” Blake said between kisses.

Yang hummed against her lips. “Hm?”

Blake pressed a hand to Yang’s chest, separating them just for a minute. “Thank you again. For being here. For... doing all of this.”

“You’re thanking me for making out with you in your childhood bedroom?”

“Yes,” Blake deadpanned.

Yang barked a laugh.

“Seriously, though,” Blake went on. “I know how hard this is. Trust me.”

“Blake, I told you I’m good with this plan. I’m not going to pretend it’s the easiest thing in the world, but I get it.”

Blake didn’t look convinced. Even with her hands clasped behind Yang’s neck, she was indulging in her habit of picking at her nails, something she often did when she was slipping a little too far into her own head. Finally, she said, “If you want to go home, you can. If it’s too much.”

“Why would I want to go home when you’re here?”

The quiet clicking of Blake’s nails continued, more urgent. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m... hiding you or something.”

Thoughtfully, Yang tucked a piece of hair behind her own ear and used it as an excuse to pick up Blake’s left hand along the way. She laced their fingers together, then kissed Blake’s knuckles, one by one, lingering on the third just a moment longer than intended. “I’m in this with you. All the way.”

Pure, overwhelmed awe visibly washed over Blake. She pressed her lips together with some effort, like she was holding tight at the edge of a cliff and trying not to lose her grip. When her lips parted again, she took in a shaky breath, but she didn’t let it out. Maybe she was trying to say something, or trying not to say something, or maybe both at once.

Instead of forcing any more words out, she surged forward and kissed Yang again, and it struck like lightning. Hell, Yang would go along with this charade for a whole week if it meant getting kissed like that. Blake may have run out of words to express her gratitude, but actions would more than suffice to get her point across.

Yang fell back on the bed, her legs hanging over the edge. Blake didn’t break away for even a second, following her down and keeping her mouth right where it was the whole way. It was the kind of kiss that burned up all the air in Yang’s lungs and left her panting.

When Yang had no choice but to break away, chest heaving, Blake had no trouble adapting, and the whole breathing plan got a lot more complicated. Blake’s lips found the shallow, pink mark she’d left on Yang’s neck earlier and dragged over it with just enough pressure to draw out a desperate, bruised moan. Coming undone under Blake’s mouth was easy enough - the more challenging part was holding together long enough to let her hands get involved. Fortunately, Blake wasn’t in a patient mood, and that was working very much in Yang’s favor.

Blake moved to mark a path down Yang’s chest, but her knee skirted off the edge of bed as she adjusted. Her nose almost collided with Yang’s sternum and she nearly tumbled onto the floor, but Yang managed to catch her (by grabbing her ass, which, definitely not the worst thing ever).

“Move up a little?” Blake suggested.

“Amazing idea,” Yang said.

Yang forgot to move right away, which prompted Blake to roll her eyes. “You’re gonna have to let go.”

With a pouty whine that make Blake laugh, Yang obliged. She propped herself up on her elbows and moved back so that she was fully on the bed, and Blake grabbed a pillow from the massive pile at the top of the bed and positioned it right where Yang’s head would land.

“Thanks,” Yang said.

“No problem.” And then Blake resumed as if the interruption had never happened.

There was a distinct warmth in being past the phase where either of them felt the shadow of self-consciousness when they were together like this. Taking little slips and mishaps in stride was naturaly now, and they certainly weren’t going to kill the mood.

Yang’s volume was proportional to how comfortable she felt, which Blake had commented on many times since discovering it. When Blake’s hand found its way under Yang’s bra, it was lucky everyone else was out of the house or distracted.

“Take this off,” Blake said.

Yang made a face at her. “Do it yourself.”

“Someone’s in a mood tonight.”

“Who?”

Blake spread her fingers over the back of Yang’s shoulders and pulled, a signal to sit up. Yang knew exactly what it meant, but she didn’t respond right away. Very much on purpose.

“Wow,” Blake said.

“What’s taking so long?” Yang asked knowingly.

Thankfully, Blake didn’t have any intention of putting up with this for much longer, and she was more than willing to make that exceptionally clear. She grabbed Yang’s wrists and pinned them on either side of her head. “I can come back in an hour. Give you some time to work on this attitude.”

Yang smirked. “Oh, baby. We both know you couldn’t stay away that long.”

Blake released Yang’s wrists to trail a finger down the middle of her chest, dreadfully light. “If I did leave, what would you do?”

“You know what I’d do.”

“Even I told you not to?”

“I’m not great at following directions.”

Blake hummed pensively. “I think that depends on the situation.” With her hips positioned just north of Yang’s, she started a painfully slow grind. She’d be getting a decent amount of friction for herself, but Yang was suddenly starved for it. Blake was soundless, her gaze steady, no doubt loving the way the blood rushed up to the surface of Yang’s skin all at once.

Between the two of them, Yang might have been louder, but Blake could stay quiet, even while working herself up like this, without so much as a heavy breath breaking.

And it was hot.

It took seconds for Yang’s mouth to go dry. Her grip on Blake’s hips tightened as she tried to coax her down, just a little further, but Blake was strong and stubborn.

Yang’s willpower was dwindling fast.

Blake leaned down, the silky fabric of her bra just barely brushing Yang’s chest. Because she knew exactly what it did, she trailed her mouth up the other side of Yang’s neck, stopping at the hollow below her jaw and sucking hard. Yang felt her hips try to buck up, but, as frustrated as she was, she didn’t want to launch Blake into the wall. That would legitimately put a damper on things. Instead, she squirmed sideways and let out a whimper, and she felt Blake smile.

“Ready to stop being a bitch?” Blake said, not even masquerading it as a question.

Just as Yang was about to answer, Blake bit her again. Yang’s reply came out as a sharp gasp that broke into a desperate laugh.

“Sorry, what was that?” Blake asked, punctuating the thought by running her tongue over the spot she’d dug her teeth into.

“Okay, n--now who’s being a bitch?” Yang managed, scraping together every bit of breath she had just to get it out.

Blake finally sat up and gave her a break. It didn’t last long, though - she tied her hair back, not caring if it was messy as long as it was functional, and reached behind her back. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy.” Her bra came off and Yang’s gaze snapped to where it had been, proving the point.

Taking a moment to appreciate the view while Blake threw the bra away, Yang stared up in sheer wonder. Her first coherent thought was that Blake was perfect - but no, that wasn’t quite right. A naive misconception, for all its romantic airs. Blake was beautiful, undeniably, and the fact that she wasn’t afraid to show all of her flaws and scars and fears made Yang love her all the more. Having Blake’s trust was the most profound honor, and it made Yang’s heart ache. How had she gotten so lucky, to be the one who got to see Blake like this, so confident and free? Once upon a time, it would have scared her to feel so much for one person, but now she wouldn’t dream of giving it up. Not for anything.

The gravity made it impossible for Blake to continue accepting the space between them. Her (cold as always) toes dragged down the side of Yang’s calf as she brought her weight down and came close enough that Yang could kiss her with just the slightest move of the chin.

She stayed just like that, the corners of her mouth tilted up, waiting.

Oh, right. They’d been in the middle of something. How enticing it was to forget about teasing and bantering when Blake was baring her soul on her skin like a sunset.

“You know I’m only easy for you,” Yang replied. It was true in the most literal sense. For all the people she had kissed - in high school, in college, in moments of profound loneliness - she’d only ever let one touch her like this. Sex with fleeting strangers was simpler when she wasn’t the one shattering. She couldn’t handle being reduced to pieces that would doubtlessly stay scattered, neglected, abandoned.

With Blake, she didn’t fear that loss, and she’d said as much the third time Blake had playfully asked when she’d get to return the favor.

Blake’s smirk fell, and she just sat there blinking. She’d probably been expecting something that hit more like sharp nails scraping down her spine, not a warm palm caressing her cheek. They were supposed to trade taunts and rile each other up, at least until Yang inevitably broke and starting begging for more contact. Usually, underneath all of the back-and-forth, she was content to let Blake control the pace completely, even if sometimes she would threaten to handle things herself (on occasion, Blake dared her to follow through, and Yang couldn’t say no to a dare).

Curls that were too short to tie back fell next to Blake’s face, undisturbed by her slow, even breaths. In the near darkness her eyes seemed to glow gold - so that was where the sun went at night.

Yang simply lay there, gazing up unabashedly at the love of her life.

She was so taken with the tableau above her that it took a moment to realize that Blake’s hand had started trailing down her side, stepping over each of her ribs like they were scaling a ladder with the utmost caution. But it was anticipation, not caution, that sparked through Yang’s nerves as Blake’s eyes stayed fixed on her own. No more teasing. Just the wonderfully agonizing wait as fingertips burned a path over the ridge of her hip. Neither of them dared to move until Blake found her destination.

With an uncharacteristically silent inhale, Yang’s back arched off the bed. Her eyes fluttered shut briefly at Blake’s touch, but she forced them back open. She didn’t want to miss a second.

At this point, Blake had a practical catalogue of everything she could do to make Yang moan, plead, cry out, and fall apart. Quickly or slowly; all at once or bit by bit. This, though - this was some new, unexplored depth.

Yang had never felt like a glass flower before, and Blake was very invested in discovering all of the ways to bend light through her.

There was no rhythm yet, only the assuaging, firm pressure of Blake’s fingers as she took her time. She made her way slowly, with all the deliberateness in the world. Whenever Yang twitched or gasped, Blake seemed to make a mental note, but she stayed on her meandering path. Her eyes only ever flickered down to Yang’s lips, always coming back.

Surely it was impossible to unravel like this. Or it should have been, would have been, if anyone else was tracing their way through Yang’s core like a bee searching for its favorite petals.

Blake touched her like she was a flesh-and-blood sculpture - beautiful whole, beautiful in ruins, beautiful restored.

Softness wasn’t foreign to them by any means. They’d sampled the gamut from lazy morning touches to comforting “welcome home from your trip, my hands missed you.” Cuddling close sometimes skipped into kissing and evolved into more. It had become their most familiar realm, really, especially since they’d moved in together.

Things got rough on occasion, usually when Blake got an idea that involved buying some new accessory that would live in their bedside table. Classic handcuffs were her favorite - as much as she liked being in charge, sometimes she was very happy to give that up and put Yang in control once in a while. It had taken a long time for her to admit that to herself and then longer to tell Yang, but, a number of conversations later, she’d decided she was comfortable enough to try. She hadn’t regretted it.

A watery smile flashed across Blake’s eyes, and her lips parted again like they had earlier. What was it that could be so hard for her to say? They never had trouble talking about things, no matter what. Should Yang have been worried?

The next moment, Blake’s open mouth came down on her chest, and Yang wondered if she’d been imagining the strangeness.

God, Blake was good with her tongue.

Yang finally cried out as Blake’s fingers dipped lower and curled.

“I think that’s the longest you’ve ever been quiet,” Blake whispered. “What was that, two minutes?”

“Shush,” Yang managed.

Blake let out a low laugh and brought her mouth down again, drawing patterns over the most sensitive spots. She had them all memorized, brilliantly.

Preemptively, Yang pressed her fingers into Blake’s back (another night, there would be nails and marks and groans, but not now).

“Stay up here,” Yang pleaded.

Blake kissed her, an affirmation. “I’m with you all the way.”

It almost slipped out right then - marry me - but Blake’s lips were the perfect distraction.

With Blake content in her exploration, she settled into a slow rhythm.

She’d gotten very good at using her leg to drive her hand deeper, and even if this couldn’t bring Yang over the edge, she loved it.

“You okay?” Blake asked.

A nod and a sloppy smile was the best Yang could do. She wasn’t sure what would come out if she risked words.

Blake cocked her head, a curious expression curling her lips as her pace slowed like a heartbeat.

Eventually she withdrew, and Yang had to stifle a whimper.

“Blake,” she whined and threw an arm over her eyes.

“She speaks,” Blake replied, tracing loose patterns just below Yang’s collarbone.

Yang reminded herself to breathe. In and out, in and out, slower, slower.

“You can be noisy if you want,” Blake said. She quirked an eyebrow, then added, “It doesn’t bother me.”

A ghost of a laugh escaped Yang’s hoarse throat. “Oh, I know it doesn’t.”

“So?”

“I don’t want to ruin the surprise,” Yang explained vaguely.

Blake shifted so that her other forearm was supporting her. “No offense, but I don’t think anyone in town will actually be able to hear you.”

Yang put on her best imitation of a smolder. “Is that a challenge?”

That got a smile out of Blake. Most of her hair had fallen out of its tie, and the band was lost somewhere in her dark locks. She sat up and swept her hair over one shoulder while she combed through it, searching, and Yang really was a lost cause.

“Blake,” she said again, like it was the last thought she had at night and the first in the morning.

“Hm?” Blake glanced at her, then flinched as her fingers caught on something in her hair. “Ow.”

It gave Yang the precious seconds she needed to come up with a plan. Inspiration struck - she couldn’t very well blurt anything out if her mouth was busy.

“Come here,” Yang invited, hands hot against Blake’s thighs.

“One second,” Blake said.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You want my hair falling in your face?”

“How about you put something else on my face instead?”

Blake froze, hands tangled in her own hair.

Holding her hair back, she leaned down to leave one more kiss on Yang’s lips. “I’m not done with you,” she promised.

“Oh, I hope not. But who says you can’t enjoy yourself while you fix your hair?”

“You make a compelling argument.”

“Come on up.”

Honestly, the discussion had been over the second Yang had suggested it and seen the glint in Blake’s eye. Before long, Yang’s arms were wrapped over Blake’s legs while her mouth went to work.

Blake liked to move. It wasn’t a problem so much as a challenge, and Yang had gotten good at following along. Even as Blake’s hips rolled, Yang never lost her place, pushing Blake’s breath to come faster and harder.

The distraction was working, at least until Yang remembered that distraction was the goal. Normally, it was easy to get lost like this, with her head buried between Blake’s thighs, but the taste and the motion and the comfort of it all kept leading her back. Always, always.

She wanted to confess everything in poetry written with her tongue - but she’d tried that once, and Blake had been shockingly good at figuring out what letters Yang was spelling out.

It was all she could do to keep it in. For now.

At least she could allow herself to groan and pass it off as a different kind of frustration.

“Almost... got it,” Blake panted.

Then something snapped, and what must have been the remnants of her hair tie hit the wall and fell behind the headboard.

“Holy shit,” Yang said, coming up for air.

Blake sighed and started to climb off the bed. “Let me go grab an extra.”

The imminent reality of Blake’s bare silhouette striding across the room under a stream of moonlight flashed through Yang’s mind, and she knew she wouldn’t survive if it came to fruition. She did the only thing she could think of: she bolted to a seat, grabbed Blake around the waist, and pulled her back onto the bed. With a gasp from Blake that bubbled into startled laughter, they landed on the comforter in a heap of naked limbs. Blake managed to wrestle herself into a semblance of a seat, but Yang held tight and nuzzled into her neck.

“Baby, let me up,” Blake protested through her whirlpool of giggles.

Yang felt a racing pulse against her lips. She didn’t usually bite, but Blake liked when she did, and this was certainly an appropriate time to pull out all of the most effective tricks. She could keep it gentle.

Teeth scraped against starlit skin, and Blake went dead quiet.

“How about you stop worrying about your hair and lie down?” Yang suggested.

Blake hummed. She didn’t give in right away, but her head tilted instinctually to accommodate. “You’re just full of good ideas tonight, huh?”

Hey, here’s another one: be my wife! is what would have fallen out of Yang’s mouth if it hadn’t been busy at the time.

When Blake squirmed in her arms, it wasn’t out of an effort to break free of the embrace. No - her legs were squeezed together as she shifted, desperate to find friction. They parted instantly when Yang’s hand dove between them.

An uncensored moan tore from Blake’s throat. The relative rarity of that phenomenon combined with how easily Yang’s fingers were gliding made it clear just how far gone she was.

Yang kept a slow, tight circle, her mouth leaving Blake’s neck just long enough to ask, “Still want to get up?”

“What?” Blake replied, forgetting there was supposed to be a “t” at the end of the word altogether.

Just as Yang was about to move them away from the edge of the bed, Blake’s hand came to her wrist.

She started to say something along the lines of “Don’t stop,” but it broke before the second syllable could take form. For whatever reason, Blake was much more vocal than usual, and Yang was absolutely okay with that.

It was winter and scarves were a thing people wore, but in a passing moment of lucidity Yang realized it might not be the best plan to give Blake a visible hickey on her neck. That would require more than a little bit of explaining, and “I burned myself taking cookies out of the oven” probably wouldn’t cut it.

Yang had barely raised her head again when Blake reached back and grabbed her by the hair.

“What did I just say?” Blake said quickly, breathlessly, impatiently.

“It’s starting to bruise,” Yang pointed out, wondering just how much Blake was willing to take. She didn’t want to cause trouble, but she was also terribly curious. Blake was typically so calm and collected, in control of herself even when she wanted Yang to run things, and here she was asking to give that up entirely. It didn’t happen often, and it wasn’t something Yang was eager to take for granted.

It was complicated, once upon a time, to figure out what worked for Blake - Yang was more straightforward - but it just another challenge more than worth meeting. Yang would do anything, really, if it could get Blake to smile. A lazy, spent, satisfied grin was the best reward she could ask for.

Blake angled her head back just enough to spark a blistering kiss. Her voice was as rough as her grip in Yang’s hair. “Keep going.”

Yang would hate to deny her.

Patience was a forgotten ideal once Blake got to this point. She wanted speed, she wanted pressure, and most of all she wanted to collapse in Yang’s arms and be held tight as she fell apart. Yang kicked herself a little for not seeing this coming given how on edge Blake had been all day, but she would do what she could to ease that now. Stress could corner Blake in her head, but Yang had learned how to defuse it.

Like Yang’s early reluctance to do anything but give, Blake walked into their relationship with her own challenges to overcome when it came to being in bed with another person. It had taken her a while to express what she wanted: she’d never been asked, so she didn’t have an answer. Plus, she’d never managed to get off with a partner, and that was a streak that had to end. For the sake of Yang’s pride, partly, but mostly because she wanted Blake to feel good, plain and simple.

Eventually, Yang came to the conclusion that the best way to help Blake figure things out for herself would be to act as a live crash test dummy. After turning the idea over in her head for about a week and coming up with a less absurd way to pitch the concept, she led Blake into the bedroom (Yang’s alone, at the time), stripped off her clothes, and stood in the middle of the room with her arms stretched out. Touch me, she invited, Let’s say it’s for science. Blake asked if she was sure about a dozen times before letting her palms hover over Yang’s skin. It might not have been the most mind-blowing night of their lives, but it was by far the most intimate. Yang had found a method and a reason to confront her reservations about letting people in, and Blake had picked up some valuable points about anatomy. Fortunately for both of them, Blake was a fast learner, and the applications of those lessons had since been extraordinarily successful.

Since addressing those early difficulties, Blake had become much more forward about saying what she wanted. Despite her claims otherwise, Yang really was very good at following directions.

How far they’d come since their beginning, Blake unafraid to ask for more, more, more while her vicious hold on Yang’s hair hurt enough to be intensely motivating.

Sometimes Yang would talk and talk to help Blake from getting in her own way. Encouragements and affirmations, mostly, but they could only ever scrape the surface of everything Yang felt swelling in her chest when Blake finally let go.

As Yang’s pace increased, a series of tight sobs wracked Blake’s ribs.

“You okay?” Yang asked.

“Yeah,” Blake choked out.

She repeated it as Yang continued, over and over, voice pitching higher, muscles in her neck and arms tensing. Her legs shook, and Yang’s wrist might be a little sore in the morning, but it was so, so worth it. Blake’s back arched, and she proved she could be just as loud as Yang if she wanted. Bottling the memory of the sound, Yang brought her through, and only a duet of ragged exhales remained.

The moment where Blake went completely limp could be a little unnerving, but Yang had learned to be ready for it.

Blake slumped into her unyielding embrace, safe.

“I got you, baby,” Yang said.

All Blake could do was breathe, slowly steadying herself.

Yang did the same by closing her eyes and holding on a little tighter.

Blake’s head fell back against her shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Now you can go get a hair tie,” Yang teased.

“Shut up,” Blake said weakly. “I will. Just...”

“You need a second?”

Blake responded by curling into a ball on the bed and nestling further into Yang’s arms.

“Take your time,” Yang said, planting a kiss on top of Blake’ head.

After several long minutes, Blake did get up and find a hair tie, and she remembered her promise from earlier. She picked up where she’d left off, and Yang only had to stop herself from blurting out a spontaneous proposal another five or six times. Ultimately, she was too exhausted to even think about forming words, and she drifted off with Blake resting half on top of her.

________

A knock on the door startled Yang. It took her a few slow morning blinks to remember that this wasn’t their quiet, private apartment.

She’d fallen asleep in Blake’s bed. Upstairs. At her parents’ house.

She’d had every intention of going back down to the basement. Now they’d have to come up with some excuse for why Yang was up in Blake’s room, and that was the best case scenario. In the next few seconds, Ghira or Kali could open the door and--

“Yo, Blake!” Another series of knocks - Sun. Yang wouldn’t have guessed he woke up before noon.

Blake jolted awake at his voice. Her arm around Yang’s waist stiffened.

“Get up, sleepyhead!” Sun called. He pounded on the door again. “Come on. I know you’re awake.”

“Just give me a minute, Sun,” Blake replied.

Blake and Yang both jumped out of bed and started picking through small piles of discarded clothing, tossing each other pieces to throw on. Frantic, Blake tried to pull her dress on, but Yang tugged it off and shook her head. They couldn’t very well wear the same outfits they’d had on last night. If Blake tried to walk-of-shame her way through answering the door, even Sun would notice something was strange.

Yang, still totally undressed, had just grabbed a long nightshirt from a pile of long-abandoned pajamas on a chair when Sun’s voice came again.

“Man, don’t make me come in there and jump on you. I’ll do it. You know I’ll do it.”

The nightshirt hit Blake in the face.

“Sorry,” Yang whispered.

Blake raised a finger to her lips urgently - shhhhh.

“Sorry,” Yang repeated, quieter.

“Hide,” Blake hissed.

“Where?” Yang mouthed.

Blake pointed to the bed and shrugged. There weren’t a ton of options here. Blake had a wardrobe instead of a closet, and there was no bathroom attached to the room. No way out, unless Yang felt like skinny dipping in a snowbank.

Yang dropped and rolled under the bed. As the doorknob turned, she snatched her red dress off of its spot on the floor and clutched it to her chest. No reason to leave a glaring, offensively bright sign that she’d been there lying out in the open.

Blake opened the door. Yang caught a glimpse of her covering her neck - it could totally pass as a casual pose.

“What do you want, Sun?” Blake asked, her grumpy morning face audible in her unenthused greeting.

“I want you to get ready for ice skating,” Sun said. “Ilia’s meeting us there in an hour.”

“An hour? I’m going back to sleep.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Sun pushed. “Hey, is your neck okay?”

Blake hesitated for the slightest beat, but Sun wouldn’t notice. “It’s fine. Just slept on it weird.”

“Oh, that’s the worst. Hopefully it feels better by the time we get to the rink. I don’t want to win our race by default because you’re injured.”

“Considering that’s the only way you’ll ever beat me, maybe you should take what you can get,” Blake retorted.

“Man, I forgot how mean you can be before ten o’clock,” Sun commented. “I beat you fair and square last year. And eight years before that.”

“Sure, Sun.”

“Have you seen Yang?”

Under the bed, Yang stayed as still as she possibly could.

Blake’s pause this time was noticeably longer. “I saw her last night.”

Yang winced. It could have sounded more suspicious, but it also could have sounded significantly less suspicious.

Despite his urgent knocking, Sun seemed to be in absolutely no rush to wrap this conversation up. “Huh. Weird. Ruby said she wasn’t downstairs.”

“Maybe she went for a run,” Blake suggested. Yeah, that was good. That was a perfectly plausible explanation.

“In the snow?” Sun asked.

Or not. “She’s committed,” Blake tried. “You know, the sooner you leave, the sooner I can actually get ready.”

Sun clapped his hands together. “Yes! Alright. You do that. I’m gonna go fuel up.”

“Don’t eat too many cookies. I don’t want to win by default because you gave yourself a cramp.”

A pair of feet left the doorway, and Sun’s voice sounded a little more distant. “It is on, Belladonna!”

The door finally closed, and Yang released a breath she was fully aware she’d been holding for the past minute. She crawled out from under the bed and saw Blake leaning back against the door, staring through the carpet, unblinking.

“Well, that was close,” Yang said, making a concerted effort to keep her tone as light as possible.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Blake said softly.

It stung a little; Yang couldn’t lie. What they’d done had been risky, sure. Still, regret wasn’t the first emotion Yang would want associated with sex under any circumstances.

The subtle hurt must have shown on her face - Blake looked up at her, concerned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Yang said.

Blake reached for Yang’s hand. “Can we just be a little more careful today?”

“If you can keep your hands off me at the skating rink, of course.”

“Hey, someone has to keep you from falling on your face.”

“Look, I might be terrible at skating, but at least I have a good time. That’s what counts.”

“Absolutely.” Blake pulled her in for a kiss. “I should probably find you something to wear.”

“You mean I shouldn’t sprint through your kitchen and living room with my ass out?”

Blake shook her head, hiding her amusement poorly.

“I have a plan so we don’t get in trouble,” Yang started, “but first I need to shower.”

***

Ever so stealthily, Blake snuck some extra towels from the linen closet. Once everyone was gathered in the kitchen, Yang bounded down the stairs and loudly announced that she had no choice but to use Blake’s shower because Ruby was monopolizing their bathroom. Ruby, bless her, went along with it so convincingly that Yang wondered if her sister even knew it wasn’t entirely true. Either way, Ruby definitely knew that Yang hadn’t slept in the basement, but she thankfully did not make that fact public. She definitely deserved an extra snack from wherever they went today.

The ice rink was only ten minutes from the house, but they still managed to get there late. For all of his nagging, Sun was the primary culprit. He swore he’d packed his ice skates, which led Neptune to question why anyone would have brought skates to the desert in the first place. Once Scarlet jumped in and claimed that he had a very vivid memory of skating with Sun, everything imploded. Neptune argued that their “skating adventure” had almost definitely been fueled by ayahuasca, which led to a debate about which hallucinogens inspired the best trips, Neptune feeling very left out, and Scarlet asserting that no drugs had been involved, only something called “cactus juice.” Sun then remembered that cactus juice was, in fact, another name for a niche strain of something Yang had never heard of. Sage ended up having an extra pair of skates, but they were too big for Sun, which led to a group-wide foot size comparison (in which Blake refused to participate, but Yang was oddly thrilled to beat both Scarlet and Neptune).

Listening to the boys try to have a conversation was like watching a four-way ping pong match with about a hundred balls in play.

Kali came to the rescue at last: “Sun, just rent a pair at the rink.”

A chorus of illuminated Ohhh’s from the boys was punctuated by a facepalm from Blake.

Ilia did indeed meet them there, and she’d already had an entire serving of popcorn while waiting. Once everyone was equipped with skates and wrapped in scarves, Ilia rightfully spent no less than twenty minutes gently bullying Sun for his terrible leadership skills after he’d promised to get the group there right at 10.

The outdoor rink was set up like a winter carnival, complete with a circle of stands selling hot chocolate, fresh cookies, and all manner of festive food items. Past the far stands, there was a giant snowball fight arena made up of tunnels and trenches carved into the snowbanks. All of the kids in town collaborated to build the icy fortress every year, Blake explained, and it was a tradition that she and her friends had participated in for a long time.

Another long-standing tradition, apparently, was Blake and Sun’s annual skating race. According to Sun, they were evenly matched. Ilia, who considered herself an unbiased third party, told Yang in confidence that Blake had won every year except one, and that had only been because a series of strange events led to her borrowing a pair of Sun’s hockey skates for the competition.

Yang wasn’t big on winter sports, but this was cute. Growing up in a warm town where it snowed once or twice a year wasn’t exactly conducive to mastering ice skating, but she’d tried it a few times. Mostly, she was content to cruise along the edge of the rink where she could hold onto something.

She ended up hanging out with Ilia, who was equally happy to stay out of Sun and Blake’s way for a while until their strange and unbalanced rivalry was satisfied.

“At least they stopped sending each other to the emergency room,” Ilia said absently as she leaned on the railing.

“Did they do that a lot?” Yang asked, trying not to sound too alarmed.

Blake skated by, high-fiving Yang and Ilia as she passed. She was flying around the rink a solid lap and a half ahead of Sun. At this point, she probably could have shifted to a more relaxed pace, but she clearly intended to win by the largest margin possible. It was funny seeing Blake get so unironically competitive - it reminded Yang of the one time they’d tried playing video games with some friends and Blake had come in last place. She’d gone for a walk outside afterwards to calm down, then come back for dinner. Yang figured she’d never stop discovering new sides to Blake, and it was an exhilarating thought. How thrilling it was to know someone so truly and still find new things to learn.

Ilia hopped up to sit on the railing, a maneuver that Yang would certainly not be attempting with ice knives strapped to her feet.

“I figured Blake might have told you,” Ilia shrugged. “It’s how she got that scar on her shoulder.”

“She said that was from a burn.”

“So she didn’t mention the part where Sun pushed her into the popcorn stand?”

Yang flinched. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“Wasn’t she five when that happened?”

“Ah. She told you part of the story,” Ilia said.

Yang shrugged. “Maybe she forgot the rest.”

Talking to Ilia was strange. It didn’t quite feel like an interrogation this time, but there was an edge that Yang wasn’t completely comfortable with. She felt like Ilia was testing her, somehow, evaluating based on a vague and closely guarded set of criteria. Every new line of conversation felt like walking into a pop quiz - even if the tests were on Yang’s favorite subject, it was still off-putting. So what if Yang didn’t know every detail about Blake’s childhood? Ilia seemed to think some way about it, but she was next to inscrutable.

They stood in silence for a while, waiting for Sun to finish his next lap. Blake had almost passed him again, but he was giving it his all, and that was more that enough to earn him another high-five on this turn.

Yang held her hand out. “Let’s go, Sun! Just a couple more to go!”

But as he came gliding up to them, he turned his feet in and slowed. He was doubled over, exhausted. His hand was raised, and his palm barely met Yang’s as he stopped.

“Are you alive?” Ilia asked flatly.

“She’s so fast,” Sun panted. “How is she so fast?”

“You could always blame the rental skates,” Ilia suggested.

Sun brightened and moved to lean over the rail. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Yang cut in. “Blake’s also wearing rental skates.”

“Damn.”

Ilia snickered at that, no evidence of the antagonistic cloud that had thus far hung over her interactions with Yang. Being protective of Blake was one thing, but Ilia’s attitude was starting to feel like something else. Yang hated to make assumptions, so she refrained from doing so, but she wasn’t going to let her guard down.

“You talk to Blake yet?” Sun asked.

He was looking at Ilia. She slouched a little on her perch. “Quit pushing, Sun.”

“What?” he said innocently. “It’s the holidays. You might as well do it when there’s mistletoe around.”

Wait, what?

Ilia glared at him. If she and Blake had a death stare contest with each other, they’d probably both burst into flames. Ilia’s face was already turning a very festive shade of red. “I don’t think it’s a good time.”

“It’s always a good time for love, Ilia.” Sun put an arm around her shoulders, and she tried to shove him off. “Hey, no pushing. I’m standing on ice, here.”

“Thin ice,” Ilia said, her jaw set.

Yang tried to extricate herself from this very private conversation as surreptitiously as possible, slowly turning away to look out at the rink. She busied herself with scanning through the small crowd of parents, children, couples, and friends. Ruby, Neptune, Scarlet, and Sage were all holding hands and floating around the ice like a chaotic, beautiful snowflake.

Blake was nowhere to be seen on this end of the rink. She might have passed right by and already started her final lap. Whether or not she knew Sun had given up, she’d probably still finish the race. It was a matter of honor at this point.

Ilia and Sun had just faded into the ambiance when Yang heard her favorite voice in the world shouting.

“Incoming!”

She had just enough time to brace herself against the railing before Blake slammed into her.

“Oof,” Yang grunted. She’d managed to catch Blake and bring her to a stop, and now Blake was clinging to the front of Yang’s coat

“Sorry,” Blake said, her cheeks pink from windburn. “These skates aren’t quite what I’m used to.”

She was a good skater. There was no way she’d forgotten how to stop altogether, and it seemed even less likely that the skates had such a dramatically different functionality from her own pair back home.

“It’s fine. I gotcha,” Yang said.

She should have let Blake go, stopped holding her, but it was so much harder today. It was Christmas Eve, and all she wanted to do was curl up under a blanket and drink hot chocolate and kiss Blake’s freezing cold nose. How did she use to act when she wasn’t completely in love with Blake? Had there ever been a time that had been true? Barely an hour into their day and they were already treading a dangerous line.

Ilia cleared her throat, and Yang knew they’d been caught. She let Blake go, holding her hand just a second longer to make sure she was steady on her feet. She was, of course, eternally graceful in most things she did (except dancing), and Yang’s assistance was performative at best.

“Yeah, sure,” Ilia said, rolling her eyes. “Everybody blame the skates.”

“Nice landing, Blake,” Sun joked. “If we had a stopping competition, I’d win for sure.”

“For skating? Maybe. For talking?” Blake hummed skeptically.

“Ouch.” Sun put a hand over his heart as if he’d been mortally wounded. “I think you owe me a hot chocolate for that one.”

“Fair enough.”

“Ilia, why don’t you go with her?” Sun posed. “You look like you could go for something sweet.”

The look Ilia shot him might have killed him if he hadn’t turned his attention to the rink, spotted the snowflake amoeba formerly known as his friends, and rushed out to join them.

Blake had ducked under the railing and was already replacing her skates with her boots. She shivered briefly and pulled her coat around herself tighter. “Want anything, Yang?”

“I’ll take a hot chocolate,” Yang replied with a smile.

“You got it.”

By all external standards, it was a perfectly normal exchange. Only Yang knew how hard she had to grip the railing to keep from leaping over it and wrapping Blake in her arms to banish the cold seeping in through the seams of her coat. Nobody else knew that all Yang could offer was a smile and hope it was enough to spark some warmth.

Once Blake was wading through the crowd towards the hot chocolate line, Ilia bumped her foot against Yang’s shoulder.

“You’re staring,” Ilia noted.

“Thanks,” Yang said, turning back to the rink. “This whole acting thing is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah, well, I get it,” Ilia went on.

Yang had a strong suspicion she knew what Ilia was getting at, but she still wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions. Even if Sun was the king of tactlessness. “Get what?” she asked.

Ilia took a moment, and her face flushed. “You heard what Sun said.”

Yang waited.

“You’re not the only one trying to pretend you’re not in love with Blake,” Ilia said, so quietly that it almost drowned in the laughter and holiday music.

Yang wasn’t going to push the topic any further, but she gave a sympathetic smile. She understood. It certainly explained why Ilia had been acting like, well, a protective girlfriend.

Ilia scrutinized her. “You’re not even a little mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Yang asked.

Ilia stared incredulously. “I just told you I’m in love with your girlfriend. Nothing?”

Yang shrugged. “I know how easy it is to fall for her. If it’s how you feel, it’s how you feel.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“This might come as a surprise, but I really wanted to not like you,” Ilia said.

Yang laughed. “I got that vibe.”

“You just had to be cool.”

“Aw, thanks. You’re pretty cool, too.”

Ilia narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know if I’ve earned that, but thanks.”

“Obviously you care a lot about Blake. You’ve known her forever and you’ve been there for her the whole time, even when she was going through bad stuff. I think it takes a pretty cool person to stick around like that.”

Yang hadn’t expected to make anyone cry on Christmas Eve - certainly not tough, distant Ilia, but there were little tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Dammit. You really are great.” Ilia shoved Yang’s shoulder again.

Managing to get Blake’s staunchest, most aggressively loyal friend to like her definitely felt like a win, but the interrogation wasn’t quite done.

“So why are you actually pretending you’re not together?” Ilia asked. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s kind of complicated.”

“How? She has you, and you’re lucky enough to have her. What’s the problem?”

Of all the people Yang could have talked to about this, Ilia actually might have been the best option. Unlike Weiss, she knew what Blake had gone through with Adam, so maybe she would understand Blake’s reservations around introducing someone new to her parents.

“She was worried,” Yang started. “Apparently the last time she brought someone home, it didn’t go over so well with her parents.”

Ilia’s expression darkened. Whatever Blake’s emotions were towards Adam now - regret, sadness, maybe a little bit of lingering fear - Ilia seemed to harbor nothing but pure hatred for him.

“Anyway,” Yang continued, “She said she wanted to give her parents a chance to decide if they liked me before she told them we were together.”

For a moment, Ilia just stared at her, that same aloof, judgmental look on her face. Then she rolled her eyes.

Okay. Not quite what Yang would have expected. “What?”

“That’s so unfair,” Ilia said. “To you,” she clarified.

“It doesn’t really bother me,” Yang said. “I mean, it’s not as fun as being able to kiss her whenever I want, but it’s what she needs right now.”

“She’s scared. When she’s scared, she runs.” Ilia could have been boring straight into Yang’s soul, her words slow and deliberate. “Don’t let her.”

Yang felt her temper flare. Maybe Ilia didn’t understand after all. “She’s not ready. I’m not going to force her to tell them. It’s not like her parents are raging bigots, but if it’s not the right time--”

“Clearly you guys have your reasons for doing what you’re doing,” Ilia broke in. “Whatever. Do you. All I’m saying is I think it’s a little weird that she felt ready to bring you home for Christmas but hasn’t told her parents yet.”

Normally Yang had a relatively high tolerance for people expressing their opinions, but Ilia was going too far. “Weird? Seriously?”

“Whoa,” Ilia said, raising her hands up. “Not in a bad way.”

“Kinda sounds like that’s how you meant it.”

“Look, I know Blake,” Ilia said, hopping down from the railing. She was significantly shorter than Yang, but she didn’t seem the type to be intimidated easily (except by her own feelings, maybe). “And if you know her, then you know how good she is at talking herself into things. Adam’s been gone for years, but he’s still in her head. If she’s scared that her parents are going to react the same way to you, she’s thinking with her trauma. Not her head, not her heart.”

That sounded a lot more plausible than Yang wanted it to be. “So? What can I do?”

“Maybe she needs a little nudge.”

“What kind of nudge?”

“I don’t know, Yang. I don’t want to step on your dynamic. But she’s really good at convincing herself that she has to do everything on her own.”

Yang’s heart cracked a little. “She’s not... she’s not alone. Of course I’m gonna be there with her when she does tell them.”

“Have you told her that?”

“I--” She had, hadn’t she? Why wouldn’t she have? “I thought she knew.”

“Sometimes, when someone’s been burned like she has, you have to make sure. Be deliberate. Spell things out clearly.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yang nodded. “I can do that.”

Ilia shot her a sideways look. “You can or you will?”

“I will,” Yang corrected. “Thanks, Ilia.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just do it,” Ilia said, leaving a vague threat unspoken and dangling.

It couldn’t have been easy for Ilia to share thoughtful insights about the person she loved unrequitedly with a near-total stranger. Yang had to admire someone who cared so selflessly and wanted only the best for the woman they both cared about more than most anyone else.

Yang would do whatever it took to show that she’d be by Blake’s side the whole way. She’d thought that going along with plan “wait it out” was the best way to do that, but maybe going with the flow wasn’t the most supportive thing she could do. What was the best way to prove it?

Blake needed to know going into that conversation that she could count on Yang no matter what, and they’d never dealt with something like this before. Not together, anyway. In Blake’s experience, regardless of how different Adam and Yang were, she had a 100% success rate of losing her parents after bringing someone home to meet them. No wonder she was terrified.

Ruby’s solution would be something related to sitting the whole Belladonna family down with food and talking it out, but that was a little too straightforward for this situation. A slideshow with a carefully argued thesis? Weiss would be proud of that idea, but it wasn’t right.

Yang needed to figure something out, fast.

***

Back at the house, Yang took her second shower of the day and hoped that the scalding hot water would help her come up with something so perfectly supportive it could put a supernova back together.

Alright, maybe she was expecting too much from herself, but this was for Blake. Shortcuts and half-assed effort wouldn’t cut it. Luckily, Yang had an incredible resource on how to do the most in any venture.

The phone rang twice before Weiss’ voice came through. “Shouldn’t you be busy planning an engagement party by now?”

“I’m working on it,” Yang said. “Just checking on the plants.”

“They’re fine, Yang. I know how watering cans work.”

Yang sat down on the bed in the basement that she had yet to sleep in. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ask the cactus. Oh, wait. You can’t.” She hadn’t planned on pestering about the plants again, but it was easier than talking about the reason she’d actually called.

“I did not kill it! You’re making me sound so malicious. I am not a plant murderer.”

“Well, it’s dead, and you were taking care of it, so.”

“How was I supposed to know it would drop dead if I watered it? That’s how you keep 99% of plants alive!” Weiss yelled through the phone.

Yang wasn’t actually mad - cacti were very cheap and very replaceable - but prodding Weiss was too much fun.

“Have you considered that maybe cacti should be left in the desert? You know, the place they’re supposed to live? Where they can have all of the extreme climate conditions that they for some reason enjoy?”

Trying not to laugh was pointless. This was exactly the kind of over-the-top energy that Yang needed to inspire her. “Damn. I had no idea you were so passionate about cactus rights.”

“Did you call just to harass me?”

Yang hesitated. She didn’t even know where to start.

“Yang?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Yang replied. “I don’t know. If the plants are in mortal danger, maybe I should just come home.”

“First off, let me make it clear that I am incredibly offended,” Weiss began. “Secondly,” she went on, her voice softening, “did she... say no?”

“No, but thanks,” Yang spat. “Being reminded of the worst possible outcome makes me feel a whole lot better.”

“I’m sorry! You sounded all morose, so I figured something terrible must have happened.”

Yang flopped back on the bed. Maybe the ceiling would offer some miraculous guidance. “No, nothing like that. This is just way harder than I thought it would be. Blake isn’t ready to tell her parents about us and I want to respect that, but... I mean, it’s Christmas! Do you know how hard it is not to hug her every time she’s cold? How am I supposed to keep pretending I don’t want to kiss her every time I hear a song mention mistletoe?”

“Yang. If you need an out, just say the word. I can have you back home in twenty minutes.”

“Do not send a helicopter again.”

“I--I wasn’t going to!”

“As fun as that was, I don’t think there are a lot of landing spots in the suburbs.”

“Fair point.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Yang rubbed her eyes. They always got dry and stung when she needed to cry.

“About what?”

Yang didn’t reply right away, and Weiss took it as an invitation.

“If you’re worried about general holiday traditions, you could start by making a list of which ones you think you’d be able to persevere through without putting your mouth on Blake’s face.”

“Did you have to say it like that?”

“Of course I didn’t have to,” Weiss said. “What are you actually worried about here? You two couldn’t fit more perfectly.”

Alright, no more dodging. Yang sat up. “I don’t want to push her. I get why she’s scared. It’s a big deal bringing someone home even if--she’s had some bad experiences with this,” Yang said. It wasn’t her place to elaborate, but she hoped it was enough. “I don’t know how to show her that I’ll be right there with her the whole time without being pushy about telling her parents.”

“Quick question. What about any of that sounds ‘pushy’ to you?”

“Um, all of it?”

“Okay. I’ve dealt with a lot of overbearing people. Like, a lot, Yang. And to me, it just sounds like you want to support the person you love. It’s not like you’re taking up space that isn’t already yours to take by saying all of that. Whether it happens in ten minutes, tomorrow, or months from now, it’s an important part of your future together.”

Yang started twirling a piece of hair around her finger, knowing it would tangle. It was a habit she hadn’t indulged often, not since she was four and accidentally yanked a whole strand right out of her head. “What if she’s not on the same page?”

Weiss sighed loudly. “If I were in the same room as you right now, I’d smack you.”

“You’re the one who asked if she said no!” Yang exclaimed.

“Oh my god,” Weiss muttered. “Yang, I think you know I’m not the person you need to be talking to about this.”

Man, it was annoying when Weiss was right.

“Stop overthinking it.”

Really annoying.

“I can hear you overthinking it.”

“Yes, thank you, Weiss,” Yang said.

“I just don’t get why you’re so worried. You’re so good at doing exactly what you want. Why is this any different?”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Honestly?” Weiss asked. “Yes. It is.”

Yang let out a long exhale. As soon as Weiss asked, she knew why this was harder. She was proud to be bright, loud, and unabashed, no matter how much strangers envied it or wished she’d tone it down. But it was different when it came to those closest to her. She was infinitely more cautious when she actually cared - she hadn’t always been so comfortable teasing Weiss, or even Ruby. Maybe Blake wasn’t the only one whose perception was being clouded by that lingering fear that love inevitably led to loss. Before Yang had even understood the feelings behind any of those words, she’d lived them all.

“Actions are wonderful, Yang. But sometimes all you need to do is say what you’re feeling.”

Through the closed bedroom door, Yang heard soft footfalls coming down the stairs.

“I gotta go,” she said.

“Wait, Yang--”

The knock came as soon as Yang hung up.

In the clearest sign that she should spend exactly zero more minutes violently pondering the best course of action, Blake was at the door. She was in a dark green dress that Yang hadn’t seen before, and she was breathtaking. In a few hours, every set of eyes at the Christmas Eve party would surely be fixed on her.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Yang said.

“Hi,” Blake grinned. “You like the dress?”

Yang had half a dozen suave responses zipping through her mind, but her talk with Weiss was flashing like a neon sign in front of them all, too brash to concede to flirting and levity.

“You want to come in for a second?” she invited.

Blake came in, and the door clicked shut behind her. “Sure. Wanna show me what you’re wearing tonight?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Yang answered. “Too busy charging Weiss with plant murder.”

Blake’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no.”

“The orchid’s fine,” Yang reassured. “Somehow, she only killed the succulent.”

“That’s almost impressive, actually.”

“Right?” Yang tried to laugh, but it wasn’t convincing.

Of course, Blake noticed right away. “You okay?” she asked, sitting on the bed.

Yang set next to her. It would have been too close if anyone else was around, but Yang was going to take advantage of their moment alone given she was going to have to spend the entire evening around a crowd.

“You know I love you, right?” The question sounded more dire than Yang had intended.

Atop the comforter, Blake laced her fingers with Yang’s. “What’s wrong? If you want to go home, I--”

“No, the opposite,” Yang said.

Blake watched her curiously.

“I’ve been doing everything I could think of to prove that I’m--” Yang cut herself off. If talking to Ilia and Weiss had been a challenge, this was the next level. No more practice runs. Whatever she wanted to say, “I just want to be here for you.”

“Yang, if this is all too much, I understand. Meeting someone’s parents is a big deal.”

“It’s not that,” Yang explained. “Well, it’s related to that. I was trying so hard to show you, but I don’t think I ever just told you.”

Blake shrank, her shoulders scrunching up a little. “Told me what?”

“Okay,” Yang started. If she didn’t launch into it, she might talk herself out of it altogether. “I realized something. You kept saying you would tell your parents about us, like you were always planning on doing it alone. That’s a scary conversation to have even if you haven’t had it go really badly before. I know you could do it by yourself, but you don’t have to. I want to be there with you. If you want me there.”

Blake didn’t say anything, just watched with that stoic expression and a steady rise and fall to her chest.

So Yang went on. She might as well have been rolling down a hill, all unstoppable momentum hurtling straight towards some ominously unknown destination. “That’s why I was so committed to the whole ‘just roommates’ thing. I thought that was the best way I could show you that I’m in this 100%, but I never just... said it. So, I’m here. However you need me. For as long as you want me.”

It might as well have been a proposal, especially given Blake’s reaction. Her facade had crumbled halfway through Yang’s addendum, and tears fell freely down her cheeks. She was covering her mouth as though that would keep her inhales from turning into hiccups, but there was no point in putting up a front. Yang was one of the few people who was allowed to see this depth of emotion, and she was one of even fewer who Blake trusted enough to hold onto her as she waded through it. As if on cue, Blake threw her arms around Yang’s shoulders, crushing her in an embrace that almost knocked her over.

“Whoa, hey,” Yang said gently. “It’s all good.”

“Yeah, you are,” Blake said with a sob of a laugh.

Yang rubbed her back in slow circles. It was one of the fastest ways to help Blake fall asleep or calm down, and, to Yang’s relief, her breath evened out almost immediately.

Blake pulled away and wiped her eyes, careful not to disturb her makeup too much. “We’ll tell them tonight, okay? As soon as the party’s over.”

“We don’t have to do it before you’re ready,” Yang said.

“I am.”

Yang hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure about you.”

For half of a second, Yang felt bad about ruining Blake’s lipstick, but she’d probably end up redoing it before the big event anyway.

“Um, Yang--” Blake said, protesting when she was interrupted by another kiss. “Yang,” she said a little more firmly.

“Yeah?” Yang asked absently. Her eyes traced along Blake’s jaw, down her neck, over the slope of her chest. How easy it was to get lost in the angles, curves, and softness she knew so well.

“I need to ask you something.”

There was an unusual urgency behind her words, like they were blurted out by a swimmer who’d stayed underwater for as long as possible first.

“What?” Yang asked.

She searched Blake’s face. Where there had been resolve steely enough to break a kiss, apprehension was now creeping in. As a small smile blossomed, her eyes shone with the kind of thrilling, consuming fear that hits right before jumping out a plane.

Intending to encourage her, Yang kissed her again. She didn’t expect Blake to grab her by the shirt front, fueled by a cellular desperation. Apparently her question could wait another few seconds, or minutes, or--

Someone knocked. With how sudden it was, the bedroom door might as well have burst off its hinges and exploded into hundreds of pieces of shrapnel.

“Who’s ready to party?!” Sun called from outside.

Blake broke away and let out a devastatingly resigned sigh. She patted Yang’s chest twice.

“I can make him go away,” Yang said.

Blake shook her head. “People will start getting here pretty soon. I should help my parents finish setting up. My dad’s probably in stage 3 panic mode right now.”

She got up, but Yang caught her hand. “What was your question?”

“Later,” Blake said. “I promise.”

Yang nodded.

As Sun knocked again, Blake paused. Her hand hovered over the doorknob as she glanced back at Yang.

“Ayo, Yang? Have you seen Bla--”

Blake opened the door.

“Blake!” Sun exclaimed. “Never mind. Found her. Dude, your parents are freaking out. Well, mostly your dad. He’s worried the samosas won’t be up to Sienna’s standards.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Blake said flatly.

“That’s what your mom said,” Sun replied. “I don’t mean that as like, a dumb joke. She actually said that.”

Yang joined them at the door, keeping a respectable distance from Blake. “Anything we can help with?”

Sun laughed. “I’m sure Kali can put you to work. Are you guys ready?”

“I still need to change, but I’ll be right up.”

“Cool. I’ll let ‘em know!” He pivoted back towards the stairs.

“Sun, wait,” Blake called.

He froze halfway up the first step. “What’s up?”

“Can you keep a secret for a few hours?”

“Blake, I’m great at keeping secrets.”

“No, you’re not.”

He crossed his arms, indignant. “I’ve never told anybody about that one time you ate so much tuna that you--”

“Don’t,” Blake cut in. “Don’t finish that thought.”

“Right. Secrets. Like I said, I’m great at them.”

Blake looked at Yang.

If she was about to say what Yang guessed, the only thing to do was smile.

“So, Sun,” Blake said, reaching for Yang’s hand. “I--We wanted to tell you something.”

“Cool. What is it?” Sun asked, completely oblivious.

Yang looked down at her hand, joined with Blake’s. “Should we make him guess?”

“Aw, come on,” he said.

Blake ignored him and kept her eyes fixed on Yang. “That seems mean.”

“Maybe a little,” Yang replied.

Sun looked about ready to tear his hair out. “Just tell me already!”

“We could give him a hint,” Blake suggested.

Yang hummed in consideration. “I don’t know, baby. Do you think he’d get it?”

At that, Sun was speechless. His arms flopped down in front of him and he just looked back and forth between Blake and Yang. “Wait, seriously?”

“Technically, you still haven’t guessed anything,” Blake pointed out.

“You guys are dating?” he said gleefully.

Blake shushed him.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “But am I right?”

“Got it in one,” Blake said, a glint of amusement in her eye.

“Oh, man, this is great!” As soon as he said it, his smile dropped. “Except for Ilia.”

“Ilia?” Blake asked, caught off guard.

“She knew about me and Blake,” Yang jumped in. “We talked earlier. It’s all good.”

“Phew,” Sun said. “That’s a load off my shoulders.”

Blake dropped Yang’s hand. “Is anybody going to tell me what Ilia has to do with this?”

“Sorry, Blake.” Sun raised a finger in front of his lips. “That would be a secret.”

Unfortunately for Sun, Blake was very good at putting pieces together, and she figured it out in just a few seconds. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So that’s why you were being weird at the skating rink?”

“Yes,” Sun replied. After a beat, he frowned. “Hey.”

“You were kind of really obvious,” Yang added.

“Damn, I was? I was trying to use Neptune’s wingman tips.”

“Anyway,” Blake said, steering them back. “Don’t tell anyone about this.” She reached for Yang’s hand again. “We’re telling my parents tonight after the party, so you just have to keep your mouth shut for a couple hours.”

Sun mimed zipping his lips closed. “No problem.”

“Maybe stay away from the drinks.”

“I won’t do that, but I can stay away from your parents.”

“That’ll work.”

***

It was a shame that the Belladonna Christmas Eve party was the first one Yang had attended in so many years. After this, no other party could possibly compare, and for that reason among a million others, she really hoped the whole proposal thing went well. The first floor of the house had been decked out with traditional festive decorations, apparently largely thanks to the help of Sun and his friends. Given how symmetrical and level the garlands were, someone must have been supervising them. Yang could just imagine Sun sitting on Neptune’s shoulders while trying to hammer a nail into the wall - only a miracle of some sort could have made this go smoothly.

The smells coming from the kitchen were enough to convince Yang that there was, in fact, some divine intervention ensuring this party’s elaborate success. Another of Ghira’s favorite restaurants had supplied trays of rice, chicken, paneer, at least three different breads, and no shortage of fried appetizers. There were multiple trays of each dish, too - probably enough food for about a thousand people, if Yang had to make a ballpark estimate. Then again, Yang planned to eat at least six samosas herself, so maybe they’d gotten just enough for their expected guest list.

Sun and the boys had each gotten one samosa for helping with the decorations, a generous reward bequeathed by Kali. Yang found them all gathered in the kitchen when she went to help move furniture to the garage. Sage and Scarlet were nibbling at the fried snacks while Neptune and Sun were both trying to cram them into their mouths all at once.

“Hot. Hot,” Neptune managed through a mouthful of puff pastry and potato.

“Oh, come on. You think that’s spicy?” Sage mocked. “Stay away from the biryani.”

“Not spicy,” he sputtered. “Hot.”

Sun gulped his down shockingly fast. “I win.”

“You two make everything a competition,” Scarlet said, rolling his eyes.

“If it were a competition, we would win,” Sage pointed out. “We’re the ones who still have samosas left to eat.”

“Clever,” Scarlet said. “Congrats on losing first, Sun.”

Sun hung his head. “Aww.”

Meanwhile, Neptune had his head under the sink faucet and was trying to wash the burning sensation out of his mouth.

Blake came into the kitchen to grab the last of the chairs “Milk works better if you can’t handle the spice.”

“It’s not spicy,” Neptune gargled.

“Man, I thought you hated drinking water,” Sun said. “What happened to ‘I’m strictly a Gatorade man?’”

Neptune finally stood upright, wiping his mouth and gasping like he’d just run a footrace. “Turns out that’s ‘a dangerously high sugar intake.’”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Rest in pieces, Cool Blue.”

Kali came blazing into the kitchen behind Blake, nearly knocking into her. “Sorry, honey. Boys, can you help take coats, please? People are parking.”

“On it, Mrs. B!” Sun said. He shepherded his crew towards the foyer.

“Yang, can you help your sister finish putting out cookies in the family room?”

“As in stop her from eating all of them?” Yang asked.

“Yes, but you didn’t hear that from me. I figure you know how to wrangle her best.”

Yang laughed. “Leave the sister-wrangling to me.”

“Great. Thank you much. Blake, I need you in here,” Kali said. She was like a quarterback calling plays.

Blake started drifting towards the edge of the room with a chair in hand. “Dad asked me to help him go over his toast.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind if I steal you for a few minutes,” Kali argued. “He’s written plenty of toasts in his time.”

“Fine, Mom.”

Yang took the last of the chairs from Blake, then beelined for the family room. She might still be able to rescue a couple of cookies from Ruby’s clutches.

***

The Belladonnas’ guests turned out to be largely very prompt. A few people trickled in early, and most of the rest got there within ten minutes of 4:00. Once the light shoving and “unintentional” line cutting starting at the buffet, Yang realized why the arrivals were so timely. Nobody wanted to miss out on the food. And they were very wise to plan as such.

Yang was halfway through her second piece of garlic naan (probably one of the best things she’d ever eaten) when some familiar faces appeared at the front door: Coco and Velvet, proving themselves connoisseurs of holiday fashion in the most opposite senses. Velvet looked like she’d just stepped off a runway in her deep red cashmere turtleneck and black slacks. Coco, on the other hand, was wearing an oversized, bright green, ugly-as-sin sweater looked made her like a wrapped present. The tag read “To: Women. From: God.”

Coco caught Yang’s eye right away. “Great to see you again, Mrs. Belladonna.”

Yang peeked over her shoulder, but Kali wasn’t anywhere near her. “Oh,” she laughed nervously. “Good one. Nice outfit.”

“It’s what I get for letting my girlfriend dress me,” Coco sighed. “And I worked so hard on her look.”

“I told you, Coco, I’ll trade anytime you want,” Velvet offered.

“Absolutely not.”

“You sure?”

“I’m committed, Velv.” Coco looked around, and Yang realized why she looked so different. Apparently Velvet’s styling directions did not include wearing sunglasses indoors. “So where’s the wife?” Coco asked Yang.

Velvet tapped Coco’s shoulder. “Don’t rush them, dear.”

“Yes, yes. As usual, you’re right, and as usual, I’m too stubborn to listen. Yang, where’s Blake?” Coco held up two bags stuffed with gold tissue paper. “We brought white elephant gifts.”

“Nobody told me we were supposed to bring anything,” a familiar, shrill voice said from the doorway.

Yang looked over to see none other than Weiss Schnee shuffling into the house in the frilliest, poofiest white coat on the planet. “Weiss?!” She attacked her friend with a bear hug before the giant coat could come off.

Weiss patted Yang’s back patronizingly.

“What are you doing here?” Yang asked.

“Ruby invited me,” Weiss said in that matter-of-fact way that she told half-truths.

“You drove all the way out here for a Christmas party?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I took the helicopter.”

Eavesdropping, Coco peered at Weiss as if she was still wearing her sunglasses. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Where on Earth did you land it?” Velvet asked incredulously.

“Whether or not there is now a helicopter on top of the public library is irrelevant.” Weiss waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Now, what’s this about a gift exchange?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yang said. “It’s totally optional.”

Weiss scoffed. “Good thing I never crash a party empty-handed. You’d be surprised how much red tape you can cross if you bring presents.” She fished through her purse and pulled out a small box that probably contained something shiny and far out of the general price range of the game. “Where do we put these?”

Coco looked Weiss up and down, lingering on the box in her hand. “Oh, she’s fun. Dibs on whatever she brought.”

Yang directed Weiss, Coco, and Velvet to the gift table, which had overflowed onto the floor already. One bag was even stuck to the hook of a planter hanging from the ceiling. White elephant was another tradition at this party, and it was Kali’s favorite part of the night. Bringing a gift was by no means a requirement for attending the party, but she liked giving people a place to share holiday cheer. According to Blake, about half of the guests made their own presents: paintings, pottery, homemade jewelry, embroidery, resin coasters, and small sculptures had made appearances in the recent past. The event had become more of an art sharing circle than anything else, though Ghira always contributed some ridiculous novelty kitchen appliance instead of trying his hand at crafts.

Part of Yang really hoped she’d end up picking out something absurd, like a mini doughnut machine. With that, she could bake Weiss’ favorite old-fashioned glazed doughnuts, whip up some sugar bombs for Ruby, and surprise Blake with a double chocolate recipe for her birthday. Saturday brunches would be transformed forever.

Yang imagined waking up early (when Blake would still grumble and grimace if disturbed), sneaking into the kitchen, and returning to bed a while later with fresh blueberry doughnuts. Blake would rouse at the delicious smell and kiss her. They’d eat doughnuts and eggs and fruit until they fell back asleep for a few hours, dozing until the early afternoon. The afternoon would pass with them curled up on the couch, feet intertwined under a blanket while Blake paged through a book and Yang caught up on the latest episode of her favorite show. Cooking dinner together would be an event, and they’d have friends over to talk and eat and get way too competitive over board games. When everyone’s faces hurt from laughing, they’d bid their guests goodbye and go to bed, and a whole new world of possibilities would open. Eventually, Blake would throw her arm over Yang’s waist and listen to her heartbeat, and Yang would kiss the top of her wife’s head and stroke her hair until they both fell asleep.

God, that was all Yang wanted.

When Blake walked in from the living room, an insatiable ache settled in Yang’s chest. She’d told Blake how she felt thousands of times, in whispered words, in cocky smiles that inevitably melted, in bold declarations shouted from rooftops (just twice on that one, so far). Somehow, no matter how many times Yang said it, the need to make it known always struck again, but it had never been so strong as it was right then.

Yang didn’t like not being able to do things the second she wanted to do them, and not striding over to Blake and kissing her long and deep under the mistletoe hanging in the threshold felt like a crime.

Maybe Blake could see it - Yang’s heart - and that was why she came to an abrupt stop in the crowded foyer, transfixed.

At moments like this, everything was supposed to stop. But it didn’t.

Velvet was offering Coco a bite of rich, buttery bread. Sun was patting Neptune on the back as he took over the next greeter shift. A fire was crackling in the family room, and Sage and Scarlet were sitting in front of it singing along to the swelling carols playing on the radio. Weiss and Ilia were unsuccessfully trying to drag Ruby away from the desserts as she ducked and dodged around them to stuff sugar cookies in her pockets. Ghira’s loud laugh rang through the house, and Kali was barreling towards the front door to hug three new arrivals at once.

Nothing fell away - instead, it was the sheer fullness of the moment that illuminated all of the joy, the food, the music, the warmth, the togetherness. And Blake was there at the center, the brightest star in a sparkling, vibrant, whimsical galaxy.

After years of thinking it was impossible, Yang loved Christmas again.

She loved her family. She loved Blake’s family. Most of all, she loved Blake, and she wanted Blake to be her family.

It was so simple, when she got down to it. Everything mattered so much more when it was wrapped in love. Crisply folded corners, curled ribbons, and an ebullient bow.

“Yang, stop her!” Weiss’ voice cut through the din of the party. Sure enough, Ruby was responsible for the shrill summons, her phone out as she snapped pictures of herself and a very grouchy Weiss.

“We’re making memories, Weiss!” Ruby argued. “Don’t you want to remember the first Christmas Eve party you crashed with your best friends?”

“I don’t think it counts as crashing if you’re invited,” Blake said, coming up to Yang’s side. “Have you crashed a lot of holiday parties, Weiss?”

Weiss shot her a look, half offended stink-eye, half begrudging confirmation. “So what if I have?”

Blake put her hands up. “No judgment. That’s exactly why we get so much food.”

“Ruby, let Weiss eat her snickerdoodles in peace,” Yang said.

“Thank you,” Weiss said.

“So steal the rest when she’s not looking?” Ruby asked.

“Exactly,” Yang said.

“How dare you?!” Weiss shrieked.

Ruby cackled, and Blake laughed at Yang’s grin.

“Now you’re all just ganging up on me,” Weiss whined, crossing her arms and stamping her foot.

“Weiss, I would never steal another person’s cookies,” Ruby said with conviction. “That is sacred!”

“I did not fly all the way out here to be mocked.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m very serious about cookies!”

“Why did you come all the way out here, Weiss?” Blake asked. “I figured you’d be spending the night with your sister.”

Weiss raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think flew the helicopter?”

“God, Winter’s cool,” Yang muttered.

“I’d say she’s... ice cold,” Ruby added, flashing finger guns.

Yang returned them, much to her sister’s delight.

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose, resigned. “To be perfectly honest,” she said, turning to Yang, “Your last phone call had me worried. I came because I was afraid you weren’t going to be de-grinched in time.”

“In time for what?” Blake asked.

“Christmas,” Yang said quickly. “Gotta have the whole heart growing thing.”

Ruby nodded, hiding the close call well. “That’s how it goes in the story.”

“Right. So?” Weiss asked expectantly, offering no elaboration on her question.

“So what?” Yang returned.

“Has your heart grown three sizes?”

Yang opened her mouth to respond, but Weiss cut her off with a sharp finger point.

“No dirty jokes. It is Christmas, Yang Xiao Long.”

Ruby snickered, definitely thinking of the exact joke Yang had been about to make.

When Blake put a hand on Yang’s shoulder, though, honestly was suddenly so much easier than gauche, defensive humor. “Well?” Blake asked.

Yang was delighted that she could tell the truth. “Yeah,” she said. “My heart’s pretty happy with all this.”

Ruby squealed in delight, and the shimmering smile on Blake’s face was everything.

“Ruby, think you can watch Weiss for a few minutes?” Blake asked.

“Excuse me!” Weiss snapped in response. “I am hardly the biggest threat to this party. Did you see that half-shirtless man dump rice all over the kitchen floor?”

“Oh no,” Ruby said, staring off towards the kitchen. “Now Neptune’s trying to save it. By eating it. With his hands.”

“Is he crying?”

“Guess he really likes biryani.”

Blake tugged on Yang’s hand, leading her away from the more concentrated crowds. Once they reached the stairs, most all of the guests were out of earshot, and the jovial noise of the party provided more than enough cover.

“Baby, if you’re trying to whisk my away to your bedroom, you’re not being very subtle about it,” Yang said, keeping her voice low.

“I was thinking,” Blake’s squeezed Yang’s hand, “that I want to give you your present early.”

Yang felt a wave of panic wash over her. If they were swapping presents, she’d have to... “Really? I thought the gifts were a Christmas Day tradition.”

Blake shook her head with conviction. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“Okay,” Yang stuttered. “Um, I need to grab yours.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” Blake said. She looked around, noticed only one person around whose back was turned, and quickly planted a kiss on Yang’s cheek before bounding up the steps two at a time.

Alright. So.

Ninety seconds to figure out how she wanted to propose to the love of her life.

Yang could do that.

Once she reached the basement, she closed the bedroom door. That would buy her an extra moment or two if she needed it.

She fished the little ring box out from her bag and turned it over and over in her hands, velvet and soft edges against her lifeline.

Her mind was blank. Suddenly she couldn’t recall a single one of the thousands of reasons she wanted to marry Blake that she’d saved up over the last year and a half.

She could start at the beginning. Yeah. Good idea.

Their first date. They’d gotten tacos - insert obvious joke here. No, she shouldn’t do that. Or should she? Humor was good, right? But she wanted to be sincere. Wasn’t her humor one of the most sincere things about her? Blake thought her jokes were funny. Most of the time. The last thing Yang wanted was her possible future wife rolling her eyes during a proposal. Straightforward, then (another obvious joke about nothing about them being straight).

The floor creaked above her head - but that couldn’t be Blake yet. She had a light step, so light that Yang probably wouldn’t even hear her coming down the stairs.

How could Yang possibly remember everything she wanted to say in such a short time? Maybe she should have taken Weiss’ advice and made notecards. The idea of proposing like she was giving a presentation in a high school science class didn’t feel right, though.

Speaking from the heart. That was what mattered.

Why couldn’t her brain cooperate and remember what her heart wanted to say?

Was she really still stuck on their first date?

The fated knock on the door came, and the blank panic flashing in Yang’s mind stilled. Peace - that was what Blake brought. If Yang was getting wound up about something, all she had to do was imagine Blake raising an eyebrow at her. Is it really worth it, darling? Never a judgment, but an invitation to reflect. Her presence meant centering, focus, and security. That was more than Yang had ever dreamed of having.

Luck had placed them at the same school, and again later in the same city. Choice had brought them together, and together, and together. Love would take them forward. Even if Yang tripped over her words, Blake would listen, and she would understand, and she would see Yang’s heart with her own.

Yang took a deep breath.

She hid the ring box behind the bedside lamp.

And she opened the door.

Blake didn’t come in right away. She stood outside shyly, her hands behind her back, glancing down at her feet as if she’d just arrived to pick up her date to prom.

“Helloooo,” Yang said, much more sing-songy than she’d intended.

The broad grin on Blake’s face made her regret the stilted greeting a little less.

Yang issued a sweeping welcome. “Come on in.”

Blake bowed her head and entered just enough that the door could close behind her. Yang still couldn’t see what Blake was holding, but she was okay with waiting. These strange few minutes before she made one of the biggest decisions of her life felt like two eternities, one fleeting as a shooting star and one as steady and deafening as a waterfall.

“Is there an official gift exchange protocol we should be observing?” Yang asked. “Your mom seemed pretty serious about the white elephant rules.”

“It’s a little easier when there are just two people,” Blake poked.

Yang sat down on the bed. Thoughts were flying through her head at breakneck speeds, and it felt like they’d knock her over if she stayed on her feet. “You want to go first?”

“Yeah,” Blake said quickly. “I’ll go first.”

When Blake just stood there, making no move to sit, Yang started to worry. Did she suspect something? “Do you want me to close my eyes or something?” Yang asked.

“Only if you want to.”

“Should I?”

“Sure. Why not?” Blake said rhetorically. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Yang repeated. If they took this long getting through a round of white elephant, Kali would probably eject them from the game.

Yang squeezed her eyes shut. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Blake had a knack for thoughtful gifts.

Blake’s voice was a comfort in the superficial darkness. “Hold out your hand.”

A weight settled across Yang’s upturned palm. She opened her eyes - a rectangle wrapped in green, ribboned with gold. Knowing Blake, this was probably going to be Yang’s next favorite book.

She glanced up at Blake - still standing, hands wringing out the apprehension.

Careful not to rip any pages in case her prediction was true, Yang slid her finger under the end seam. Sure enough, it was a book.

Strangely, it was one Yang had already read. Blake would have known that considering Yang was the one who had recommended it to her in the first place. This particular copy was well-worn, the spine cracked to the point that pigmented pieces were starting to flake off and leave bare binding to fend for itself. In fact, it looked a lot like the copy that was supposed to be on their bookshelf.

Yang flashed her a curious look. “Is this ours from home?”

Blake could barely meet her gaze. “It’s the one you bought for me, yeah.”

So she was definitely up to something.

“Right after I moved, way before you asked me out,” Blake went on. “You texted me and asked if you could swing by - you hadn’t even been to my new apartment yet, so you had to ask for my address,” she interrupted herself. “You said you saw something while you were at the bookstore with Ruby and it made you think of me, and you wanted to drop it off. Like noticing and caring and driving thirty minutes out of your way was just the easiest thing in the world.”

Yang shrugged. “It is a pretty good book.”

"Yeah. But it took me a while to figure that out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I waited almost six months to read after you gave it to me.”

Yang cocked her head. Something about what Blake was saying felt too solemn to interrupt just then.

“Because all of that...” Blake paused. She took a breath, then another and went on. “It was scary. I didn’t understand how someone could be so thoughtful and not think anything of it.”

She didn’t go on right way, so Yang prompted her. “What made you pick it up again?”

“Our first date. I needed something to tide me over until I saw you again.” Blake smiled shyly, meeting Yang’s eyes. “Just to be safe, I wanted to read it as slowly as possible, and it helped that I kept getting distracted thinking about how that date ended.”

“Oh, you remember that?” Yang teased lightly.

Blake rolled right past the rising blush in her cheeks. “It might not have been the first time we kissed, technically, but it was the first time I let it mean something real. It was the most impossible potential, right in front of me, insisting that I pay attention. You kissed me, and that was it. I knew it was going to be the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with you. And I did. And I have, every day, every time I’ve read this book, every time you’ve kissed me since then.”

She stopped, biting her lip and halting an exhale. Her eyes were shining, and Yang would have enveloped her in the biggest hug if it didn’t sound like there was something else waiting to come out.

“I want to keep falling in love with you for the rest of my life,” Blake said.

Yang was stunned. Was she...?

Blake looked at the book that was now cradled in Yang’s lap. “Open it.”

Yang cracked the hard cover open, wary of the weathered spine.

There was an inscription on the once blank first page in purple ink:

Can’t wait to hear what you think!

Book club brunch when?

- Yang :)

She’d ransacked her desk looking for that specific pen. It matched the purple lightning that danced in the background of the cover art. Plus, it was Blake’s favorite color.

Yang moved on from the note, and a half-inch deep hole in the center of the page block greeted her.

The paper had been cut out in a neat square. In it, winking up at her, was a ring.

“Yang Xiao Long,” Blake said, kneeling in front of her, “will you marry me?”

A giddy laugh bubbled up in Yang’s chest. She couldn’t contain it, and she had no desire to.

It went on just a little too long, and she still hadn’t given Blake an answer, but this was too much. “You’re not gonna believe this,” Yang said through her unrelenting laughter.

“What?” Blake asked, less nervous than confused by the reply.

Hands shaky and fumbling, Yang reached past Blake and brought the ring box out from behind the lamp. “I was gonna say something really cheesy about how you’re the light of my life,” she gestured to the lamp. “Had to get at least one bad joke in there. Now I think I’m probably just going to start crying before I get to that.”

“That’s okay,” Blake said, her voice quavering. “Wait, were you--”

“Also going to ask you to marry me?” Yang held up the box. She slowly opened it, nodded, and the tears hit.

Blake stared at the ring, the cut citrine and woven gold band glinting almost as brightly her eyes. With a gasp, she remembered to breathe. “I’ll take that as a yes?” she whispered.

“Yeah, you better,” Yang blubbered loudly, beaming the whole time.

With an elated sob, Blake tackled her in a hug. Yang managed to stay upright, cradling the back of Blake’s head and holding her as close as possible.

“I was so nervous,” Blake admitted.

“Me too,” Yang laughed. “Oh my god.” She wiped her eye, but more tears welled up right away. “I don’t think I would have made it to the end of my speech. I’m amazed you got through all that.”

“It took a lot of practice. Like, an embarrassing amount.”

Yang buried her face in the crook of Blake’s neck, feeling the warmth rising on her skin. “Aww, baby,” she said, utterly endeared in every way.

Despite the mess of tears, Yang had to kiss her. She had to. But letting Blake go even a little bit felt unfathomable, and Yang gave herself one more moment to take it all in before she broke the embrace to press her lips against Blake’s.

Yang muttered against her lips, “So is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s a yes,” Blake repeated it like she’d never get enough of the word’s taste on her tongue.

Yang couldn’t keep up with the kisses - she was too busy smiling. Soon, she’d wear that band of silver and crushed amethyst on her finger, and every time she looked at it she would break out in giggles and grins all over again. “I can’t believe you vandalized a book for me.”

“That poor book was about to fall apart anyway,” Blake said. She poked Yang’s chest. “But I will not be making a habit of it.”

“Well, I think it was a noble sacrifice,” Yang said, trying her best to be solemn and failing completely.

“Agreed. Definitely worth it.” Blake dropped her forehead against Yang’s.

“I love you,” Yang said, finally catching her breath a little. “So much, Blake.”

Blake kissed her again, lingering and delicate. “I love you, too.”

“Should we get back to the party?”

“In a minute,” Blake said softly. “Once I’m done kissing my fiancée.” The word sounded like sunshine.

Eventually, they stashed their rings in Yang’s pocket and returned to the party just in time for the white elephant gift exchange. On Kali’s signal, most of the guests picked up bags and boxes from the gift table by the front door and made their way to the family room. Everyone who wasn’t participating hung out in the kitchen or started up an impromptu dance party in the living room.

With so many people crammed into the room near the fireplace, Yang and Blake found themselves with the freedom to sit closer than they might have. Good thing, too - after their own gift exchange downstairs, Yang couldn’t stand to be too far from her girlfriend’s - fiancée’s - side. Scarlet refused to sit so close to anyone and opted to stand, leaving Sage, Neptune, Sun, and Blake squished together onto one couch. Yang took a seat in front of them and leaned her head back on Blake’s knees.

“Hey there,” Yang said, looking at her upside-down.

“Hi,” Blake giggled. Not something she usually did, but Yang was more than willing to forgive the giddiness. She could hardly contain it herself.

Yang wiggled her eyebrows, which she hoped looked completely absurd from this angle. “Come here often?”

“Couple times a year,” Blake said casually. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Well, between you and me, I think I’m gonna be coming back. Couple times a year, probably.”

“What a coincidence.”

Kali rang a little brass bell, summoning everyone’s attention, and Yang sat up.

“Thank you all for coming,” Kali said graciously. “It’s such a joy to celebrate the holidays with each and every one of you.” She scanned the room as she spoke, and Yang could have sworn her gaze lingered when she looked in her daughter’s direction. With a broad smile, she went on. “For those of you that haven’t played before, the rules are simple. Give a gift, get a gift.”

“But if there’s a quesadilla maker in there, I call dibs,” Ghira announced.

Everyone laughed good-naturedly.

Ghira laughed, too, but his expression was deadly serious.

Well, at least Yang knew what to get him for his birthday if his white elephant wish didn’t come true.

The whole process took almost an hour, and at least five minutes had been dedicated solely to Ruby trying to choose a present (“How am I supposed to pick? They all look so great!”) and Weiss being as encouraging as ever (“You don’t know what any of them actually look like, Ruby. They’re all wrapped...”).

Ghira did not get his quesadilla maker, much to his chagrin. Ilia unwrapped a painted self-portrait of Neptune, which she promptly traded away. Kali waited until the last gift remained, and she was going to be delighted no matter what it was. It turned out to be a small sculpture of their kitchen table made by Sun, complete with detailed dishes carved by hand. The detail, Yang was surprised to see, was exquisite.

Sun rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really glad you got that one, Mrs. B. I kinda forgot that this is random.”

“He’s gotten very sweaty worrying about it,” Neptune commented. He stuck out his tongue in pure disdain.

Kali took a moment to take in the sculpture.

“Coming to your house has always been a highlight, on holidays or even just on normal days,” Sun said to her. “This is pretty much my favorite part of the year.”

“I love it,” Kali smiled.

Looking at the sculpture, Ghira was tearing up a little. He sniffed loudly and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Sun.”

Sun beamed. “Did you just call me son?”

“No, it’s your--sure. Why not?” Ghria said.

That led Sun to spring up from the couch and literally jump into Ghira’s lap to hug him.

People started to trickle out after the main event was over, most toting leftovers and lingering in the doorway for an extra ten minutes saying goodbyes. To Ghira’s delight, Sienna Khan was one of the last guests to leave.

As Sienna pulled on her coat, she said, “It’s good to see you around your family. Confident. Caring. Not afraid to show passion and emotion.”

Ghira let out a strained laugh. “Well, you know. It’s an emotional time of year.”

“It certainly is.” She paused briefly. Clearly, she was someone who considered her words carefully, and “Thank you for the invitation. I can’t say I’ve attended many holiday parties that I actually enjoyed.”

This time, Ghira’s laugh was genuine, shocked, and delighted. Possibly a little bit relieved. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Happy that you enjoyed yourself. Not that you normally go to terrible parties,” he corrected.

“I wouldn’t say terrible. They simply don’t have the right priorities.”

“Ha!” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Who wants to network at Christmas, right?”

Sienna looked amused, and Yang figured that having her in on the joke was probably a major win.

“We’re glad you could make it, Sienna,” Ghira said, extending his hand.

“I’ll be in touch,” Sienna said as she shook it. “And Ghira?”

He hung on her every word. “Hm?”

“For the record, I think you do have the right priorities. You’ve built something special in this house.”

With that, she left, and Ghira got the only Christmas present that could have topped that quesadilla maker.

By 10:15, the only people that remained at the party were those currently sleeping in the Belladonna house, plus Weiss and Ilia, who were probably going to end up sleeping over at this point. Sun and the boys helped clean up the kitchen, which really was only fair after the disaster they’d been responsible earlier in the evening. Yang joined Blake on the couch - and yes, Sun had definitely gotten more than a little sweaty worrying about the white elephant exchange. Yang frowned, Blake offered a knowing look, and they shifted to the other end of the seat.

Ilia had ultimately ended up with Ruby’s gift, a painting of a Christmas tree, and was asking all sorts of questions about it. Yang chest tightened as Ruby shyly explained that she’d based the painting off of a photo from their last Christmas with Summer. That was the first year that four-year-old Ruby was deemed old enough to handle the responsibility of putting the angel on top, and she was so excited that she made a new one all by herself out of popsicle sticks, newspaper, and glue. It was misshapen and still sticky when she put it on, and it was perfect. Amidst the other decorations were the year-by-year ornaments that Tai and Summer had collected over the years, plus the ones they’d gotten for Yang and Ruby. It was a longstanding tradition from Tai’s family, one that he, Summer, and Raven had kept up together. He and Summer couldn’t bring themselves to take down Raven’s ornaments even after she left.

Ilia stared at the painting, her face growing more and more worried as Ruby’s story continued.

“Eh, sorry,” Ruby chuckled. “That was a lot.”

“No, it’s... I’m just not sure I should be the one keeping this,” Ilia said. She glanced between Ruby and Yang.

“I can’t keep my own present,” Ruby said.

Yang remembered the bag that she’d opened during the exchange. “Wanna trade for the festive singing bass?”

“Gladly.”

“Really?” Blake asked. “You actually want the singing fish?”

“Guess what Sun’s getting for his birthday,” Ilia said, absolutely dead serious.

“Where did Sienna even find that thing?” Kali muttered.

As soon as the bag left Yang’s hand, Weiss sighed in relief. “Oh, thank goodness. If you’d put that thing on your wall, I would never have come over to your apartment again. Ever.”

Yang reached back for the bag. “Hey, Ilia, can I have the fish back?”

Weiss scoffed in sheer indignity.

“Kidding, Weiss,” Yang said.

“Good.”

“Consider it revenge for killing our cactus,” Blake said.

“A cactus? I’d be happy to share succulent care tips, Weiss,” Kali piped up.

Yang elbowed Blake and leaned in, whispering, “Succulent care tips...”

Blake stifled her laugh very ineffectively, earning her a glare from both Weiss and Kali.

“That would be wonderful, Mrs. Belladonna,” Weiss said.

The boys returned to the living room after a shockingly quiet and efficient stint in the kitchen. The scattered onto the floor, couches, chairs. Scarlet even perched himself on the coffee table, for fun rather than necessity. There was plenty of seating still set up from the party to spread out, but the room still felt cozy. The fire in the hearth certainly helped. It really should have been impossible for Yang to be in a better mood, but the crackling wood was just one of the many things she was grateful for in that room.

Ghira brought in a tray of drinks - apparently his eggnog was almost as famous as the Christmas Eve party.

Yang was prepared to opt out, as usual, but he reassured her that people would have to spike their own drinks if they wanted to.

Once everyone was back, a tense, silent conversation settled between Yang and Blake. The rest of the room was complimenting Ghira’s drinks, the party, the food, Kali’s hosting, everything they could think of from the past few hours. It had been a marvelous whirlwind already. None of them had a clue that it was about to get even more dramatic - well, some of them knew about the dating thing. But definitely not all of them. If Sun had kept his mouth shut.

At a lull in the conversation about the history of singing bass fish (Sage knew a surprising amount about them), Ruby turned to Blake. “What’d you get in the swap?”

“Oh, um,” Blake stumbled, and Yang knew where her mind had gone. The rings, still in Yang’s pocket, might as well have been burning a hold through the fabric. “A salad bowl. And tongs. One of my mom’s friends made it.”

“Nice!”

Blake glanced at Yang.

“Will you be mad if I use your fancy new bowl for popcorn?” Yang asked innocuously.

“No. I was going to use it for nachos.”

“Amazing.”

Weiss recoiled. “That’s a lot of nachos.”

“I think we can handle it,” Yang said. “We’re a pretty unstoppable team. Right, Blake?” she added pointedly. She was trying to open up a window here. Hopefully Blake would take it.

On the couch cushion between them, Blake’s hand landed on Yang’s. Her smile was small, but it was there, and that was something.

“Actually, I got another pretty amazing gift,” Blake said.

“What?!” Ruby exclaimed. “How’d you get two?”

Sun looked like he was trying to solve a math problem at the front of the classroom. “I’m pretty sure I just saw you open one.”

All of the boys started asking each other questions: “How did she get two?” “Maybe her gift was like, way bigger than the other ones?” “I don’t know. I wasn’t playing.”

“Honey, you know we take the white elephant rules pretty seriously,” Ghira said with far more gravitas than anyone had ever used when discussing a gift exchange.

“I know, Dad,” Blake said. “It wasn’t part of the game.”

Weiss, who was about ready to hurl herself out the window if this went on any longer, cut in. “Did Yang get you something?” she asked loudly.

Ilia must picked up on something unspoken in Weiss’ near-accusation. Innocent and impish all at once, she asked, “Well? Did she?”

Yang did her best to glare under her smile. They were this close - she didn’t want anything scaring Blake off from going through with this at the last second.

“Yeah,” Blake replied. Her grin was impossible to suppress. “She did.”

“What was it, sweetheart?” Kali asked.

Blake hesitated, and Yang tried not to panic.

“A mini doughnut pan,” Yang said.

“Oh,” Kali said, surprised. “Interesting.”

Ghira leaned closer to her. “They’re a great investment.”

“I’m sure, honey.”

Yang kept talking, unsure whether she was buying time or steering the conversation off a cliff. At this point, she was too nervous to tell. “We left it back at the apartment. It’s one of those really nice nonstick ones. Blake’s been really into blueberry breakfast pastries lately. Try saying that five times fast--”

She stopped when she felt Blake squeeze her hand.

Blake turned back to her parents. She opened and closed her mouth and stayed quiet.

Was it the extra audience making this harder?

Most of them knew already, but still. Maybe Blake was afraid of hurting Ilia’s feelings, or maybe she’d felt too much time pressure after telling Sun, knowing he couldn’t keep a secret for long.

“Mom, Dad, I have to tell you something else first.” Upon hearing the slight tremor in her voice, her parents were immediately riveted and on guard. If something was upsetting their daughter, they wouldn’t hesitate to fix it. They loved so fiercely, so intensely - no wonder Blake was afraid of losing that again. Suddenly, Yang’s heart felt too big for her chest.

Blake took a long look at Yang, communicating so much with the anxious curl of her lip and the slight crease between her eyebrows. To most anyone else, she might have looked calm, even smug. Yang had learned to read these microexpressions, and she knew Blake was scared. Scared, but set on her choice.

“We have to tell you something,” Blake corrected.

“What is it, Blake?” Ghira asked. He was leaning forward in his seat, almost completely off the chair. In the few days they’d been here, Yang realized, she hadn’t heard either Ghira or Kali call Blake by her name, only terms of endearment. This was feeling more and more serious by the second.

At least Weiss had the good sense not to say anything too soon, though her face as red and ready to pop as a deep fried hot pepper.

“So, if Yang and I were to use this fancy new bowl for popcorn or nachos,” Blake started, “we might decide to watch a movie along with it.”

Both Ghira and Kali were quiet, their faces stone.

“Maybe,” Blake said, her voice wavering.

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this,” Ghira said.

“Right.” Blake turned to Yang again and said the next part with her gaze fixed there. “So we’d watch a movie, and we’d share a blanket on the couch, and I’d start to nod off halfway through. And Yang would pull the blanket up over me and turn the volume all the way down and watch the rest of the movie with the sound off. Then when it was over, she’d carry me to bed, trying not to wake me up. She’d think that I wouldn’t notice, but I’d really only be half asleep anyway.”

Yang felt the tears coming on again - she’d done exactly that the night before they’d left for this trip. Well, minus the fancy salad bowl.

Blake looked back to her parents. Ghira looked like he was trying to read some very small font, and Kali was making the same face Blake usually put on when she was trying really hard not to smile at one of Yang’s awful puns.

“And we’d call that a date,” Blake finished.

“Oh, thank god,” Weiss exhaled. “Was that whole story really necessary?”

“I thought it was sweet,” Ilia said.

Weiss waved her hand. “Yes, yes. Sickeningly so.”

“Phew!” Sun said loudly. “Thank you for finally telling them. Keeping that secret was literally killing me.”

“Wait, that was a secret?” Neptune asked. “Why’d you tell me, dummy?”

“He told me, too,” Sage said.

Scarlet shrugged. “I honestly thought everybody knew already, but yeah. Sun told me, too.”

Neptune slugged Sun’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Neptune,” Blake said.

Sun hung his head. “I deserved that.”

Ruby was pointing to everyone in the room, tallying. “Wait. So Ilia and Blake’s parents were the only ones who didn’t know?”

Ilia raised her hand. “Oh, no. I knew. Surprisingly, not Sun’s fault.”

All eyes were on Kali and Ghira. They still hadn’t had a moment to react, and Blake’s leg was starting to bounce nervously.

“Well?” Blake asked.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Kali said. “Do you want me to act more surprised?”

“How did you know?”

“You were holding hands at dinner last night.”

“You’re holding hands right now!” Weiss exclaimed. “Honestly, subtlety is a lost art with you two.”

Blake stood up. “Hold on. I spent days torn over whether I should tell everyone, and you all knew?”

“I didn’t,” Ghira said. Even with his voice quiet, his voice carried. He sat, very still save for one hand rubbing the back of the other, staring down into the carpet.

“Dad...”

In the silence Ilia started shepherding Sun’s crew from the room, and Weiss and Ruby disappeared into the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” he asked.

“Dad, I’m sorry--”

When he looked up at her, his eyes were watery. “Was it something we did?”

Kali put a hand on his shoulder. “Ghira--”

“Did we do something to make you feel like you couldn’t trust us?” His words cracked, dangerous as a desert fissure, and it could easily have been mistaken for anger. Whether it was towards Blake or towards himself or both was impossible to discern.

Blake was crying, now, too, and her voice stuttered like a frozen car engine.

Yang stood to join her, placing a supportive hand on her back. “Just try to breathe, okay?”

With a few steadying inhales, Blake calmed.

“Blake, what’s this about?” Kali invited.

“I’m sorry,” Blake said desperately. “What happened with Adam, I... I didn’t want you to hate Yang because of him. I can’t lose you again. Any of you.” She tangled her fingers in the front of Yang’s shirt and shook her head. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

“Don’t you dare,” Kali snapped at the same time that Ghira said, “Blake, no.”

“None of that was your fault,” Kali went on. “You were young, and we weren’t there for you the way we should have been.”

Ghira’s jaw was set. “We should have talked about this a long time ago. Blake, we are your parents. You’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not,” he tacked on a hollow laugh. “Once upon a time, you probably would have hated that, but you’re not sixteen anymore. We know that, even if it’s not always the most obvious thing in the world.”

Blake managed a blubbering laugh. Her grip on Yang’s shirt loosened a little.

“What is obvious is that you’ve found someone who cares about you very much,” Kali said.

Ghira nodded, more tears coming up. “And we couldn’t be happier about that.” He broke down, fully crying, and Kali patted his back a few times.

“We love you, Blake,” Kali said firmly.

Blake’s thumb twitched, and Yang carefully extricated the hand from her shirt. With a knowing look and a sideways nod, she told Blake, I think they could use a hug.

Loud and clear, Blake got the message. She let go of Yang’s hand and rushed across the room to dive into her parents’ open arms. Ghira’s massive embrace nearly swallowed up both Kali and Blake at once, but he showed no signs of easing up. After so many years, they were probably accustomed to it.

“Yang?” he said.

She shifted, unsure why she was being addressed directly all of a sudden. “Yeah?”

One of Ghira’s arms was reaching out towards her.

“In this family, we hug,” Kali explained.

With a relieved if waterlogged laugh, Yang joined them.

And yeah, Ghira hugged as hard as it looked like he did.

It reminded Yang of the way her own father held onto her when they (rarely) hugged. He clung to her so tightly that her ribs hurt, and Ruby usually had to squirm out of his arms to escape.

Blake was the first to break away, but by no means was she abrupt about it. She wiped under her eyes with the backs of her thumbs in some last-ditch effort to keep her mascara from running everywhere. “Sorry everyone else knew before you.”

“Technically, I think your mom knew before Sun,” Yang said.

Blake considered it, and yes, that was accurate.

Ghira put a hand on Blake’s shoulder and looked her squarely in the eyes. “Thank you for telling us.”

“Well, we could tell you something that none of the others know yet,” Blake said, teasing.

Her parents looked at her expectantly. When she didn’t say anything right away, Kali glanced at the kitchen and dropped to a whisper. “Well? What is it?”

Blake’s hand landed on Yang’s leg, and for a moment it seemed like she was about to make the exceptionally bold move of putting her hand directly into Yang’s pocket. She didn’t, thank goodness, and Yang felt pretty confident that she’d hidden her shock.

Yang took out the rings and gave them to Blake, careful not to let the parents see yet.

When Blake opened her hand, Kali gasped, and Ghira froze.

“We’re engaged.”

That led to another round of aggressive hugs.

It also meant that Yang and Blake could wear their rings now. They fumbled getting them on, but eventually Yang could see just how perfectly the piece she’d chosen matched the gold of Blake’s eyes.

“Weiss is going to be so mad we didn’t tell her first,” Blake said.

“Oh, yeah.”

***

Waking up on Christmas Day had never felt like anything special to Yang. Not before. She’d gone from dreading it to treating it just like any other day, albeit one tinged at the edges with mourning and emptiness.

There had never been magic before.

Yang woke up slowly. The first thing she felt was warm - not unusual, considering Blake was often tucked against her side. Knowing that fresh snow had fallen during the night made the blankets and body heat all the more comfortable. As Yang blinked her eyes open, she saw the white-gray sky, still over the untouched landscape outside. The thin tendrils of the bare tree branches in front of the window sparkled, encased with ice. It was the kind of morning that gave calm physical form, a peace that could be held. Maybe “wonderland” wasn’t too far off.

They’d gone to bed shortly after showing everyone else their rings and enduring a solid ten minutes of questions from Weiss. Apparently Blake hadn’t told her about the proposal plan at all, let alone consulted her about purchasing a ring. Once Weiss was satisfied that Blake hadn’t wasted her money on a cheap hunk of metal, she pulled them both into a hug and congratulated them profusely.

Sun was initially a little mopey about Blake asking Weiss to be her maid of honor, but then Blake turned around and asked him to be best man, too.

“It’s our wedding. We get to make the rules,” she said plainly. “I can have as many people of honor as I want.”

“Can Zwei be the ring bearer?” Ruby asked.

“Um...” Blake wasn’t big on dogs.

“How about you do it for him?” Yang suggested. “He doesn’t have thumbs, anyway.”

Ruby looked devastated, like she’d just realized this was true. “Oh my god, he doesn’t.” She puffed out her chest and stood up tall. “I will do it!”

“Great. Think you can handle maid of honor duties, too?”

“Like taste-testing cake?”

“Also other things.”

“But the cake is the most important.”

“Sure.”

Later, Blake had caught Ilia as she was leaving and asked her to join the wedding party, too. Understandably, Ilia said she’d have to think about it, but Yang had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to say no to such a request from Blake. It was Christmas, after all.

The second thing Yang felt in the morning, as she recalled the events from the previous night, was utterly giddy. She was engaged. To Blake. Literally the best-case scenario.

The third thing she felt was hair tickling her chin as Blake roused. On days with no immediate morning obligations, she was generally prone to falling back asleep once or twice before actually waking up. Christmas Day, apparently, had enough excitement and expectation to qualify as having plans.

“Morning,” Blake said with a lazy smile.

Yang loved the way her voice sounded when she first woke up, low and a little rough.

“Morning,” Yang returned.

Blake was already half-draped across Yang’s chest. She snuggled in under Yang’s chin, and she probably would have been perfectly content to stay like that for hours (she’d done it before). Yang was certainly happy to stay just like that, holding her peace close.

Neither of them dozed off despite the comfortable quiet, excitement buzzing just below the placid surface. Between last night and the imminent threat of Ruby or Sun barging in to announce that it was time for presents, the prospect of additional sleep stuck around about as long as the cookies had at the party.

Soon enough, someone knocked on Blake’s door. Surprisingly, it was neither Ruby nor Sun, but Kali. She was collecting breakfast requests, and Yang was once again deeply thankful for how many of the Belladonna family’s traditions revolved around really good food. This was an ideal situation to be marrying into.

Every time Yang remembered the rings, or the word marriage, or the look on Blake’s face when she’d pulled out her own ring box, her heart swelled again. At this point, she had the grinch beaten by a significant margin.

***

Downstairs, Sun, Ghira, and Neptune were busy helping Kali with breakfast in a shockingly efficient assembly line. Blake and Yang were the last ones up, except for Weiss and Ruby. Weiss had taken Yang’s completely unused bed in the basement, and apparently she and Ruby had stayed up half the night watching holiday baking shows.

But nothing, not even the threat of sleep deprivation, was going to keep Ruby from bounding into the kitchen in her pajamas at 9:00 sharp.

After waiting another half an hour, Yang had to go downstairs and fireman carry Weiss up to the family room. She was very grumpy about it until Blake handed her a mug of coffee.

Opening presents no longer felt like a task to check off a list. Sun had somehow found time to run out and get a set of cookie cutters for Ruby, which definitely scored him some points in Yang’s book. He also gave Yang some motorcycle gloves, even though Yang had barely mentioned her bike in a passing conversation. Maybe he was a little more observant than she’d been giving him credit for.

Ruby handed Yang a small box labeled VERY FRAGILE in bright green Sharpie. Inside was a small sculpture: a simple bus stop bench and a lamppost. Ruby flipped a switch on the side of the base and the single LED bulb in the lamp turned on. The light cycled through the rainbow, melding from color to color. Yang recognized it right away as the bus stop they’d waited at together every morning from elementary through high school, and yeah, she cried a little.

When it was Ruby’s turn to open her gift, Yang took out her phone. “Your present’s at the house. Someone needed to watch it while we were here.”

Ruby scrunched up her nose. “Watch it? I thought Dad was on a cruise.”

“He was...” Yang said cryptically.

After several rings - Yang was worried her dad had forgotten their plan - Tai finally picked up.

He put on a fake-deep voice when he answered. “Is this the party to whom I’m speaking?”

“Hi, Dad,” Yang said, trying not to roll her eyes too hard. “You’re on speaker.”

“Hi, Ruby!” he called in his regular voice.

Ruby waved, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

He took a beat before replying. “Are you girls having fun?”

“Yes!”

“Ruby, I’ve got someone here who wants to say hi to you,” Tai said.

Barking came through the phone.

“Zwei!” Ruby exclaimed.

Then a second, much higher pitched bark harmonized with Zwei’s, and Ruby looked like a computer that had just crashed.

Tai’s voice came again. “Hello?”

“I’m here,” Ruby squeaked. “Is that... a puppy?”

“We came home this morning and found him in the kitchen doing the crossword puzzle.”

“You got me a puppy?!” Ruby shrieked. She swarmed Yang with a hug, nearly knocking the phone out of her hand. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

“Now you have to pick a name,” Yang said.

“Ahh! How am I supposed to name him when I haven’t even met him yet? I have to see what his personality is like. Wait, was he actually doing the crossword puzzle?”

Yang gave her a look.

“Just checking,” Ruby said. “Zwei’s a very smart boy. You never know.”

“Take three to four business days and think on it,” Tai said. “Alright, girls, I’ve actually got to go shovel the driveway. Can you believe it?”

Yang held the phone closer. “Actually, one more thing.”

“What’s up?”

“You remember Blake, right?”

“Hm. Remind me what she looks like?”

“Dad. Not funny.”

“I’m kidding! Of course I remember. You don’t just forget someone who helps you clear Patch’s Ultimate Burger Challenge.”

Blake cringed. “I actually did forget about that.”

“Probably a good thing,” Yang said aside.

“Hi, Blake!” Tai said. For some reason, he was speaking louder every time he found out a new person was on the call. “How you been?”

“Good,” Blake answered. “Great.” She looked to Yang - this time, it was her news to share.

“So we’re engaged,” Yang said plainly.

There was only quiet from the other end for a long moment, and Yang worried the call had dropped.

“Dad?”

A heaving, snotty sob came through. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m trying not to scare the dogs, but some things are just built to make dads cry, you know? Oh, gosh. I’m so proud of you. And so happy for you. Both of you.”

Yang smiled. As far as she knew, her dad wasn’t big on having emotions, let alone showing them. Of course he had a joke to offer in every situation, but his reaction reassured her that he was really, genuinely happy for them.

Suddenly his voice was much quieter. “Is it alright if I tell your mother?”

Blake’s hand landed on Yang’s shoulder, and that was enough.

“Yeah,” Yang said. “Yeah, you can tell her.”

“Do you want to do it yourself?”

“Um, you go ahead this time.”

“Copy that.”

Blake’s parents were on the couch right next to them, Kali half-pretending that she couldn’t hear the turn in the conversation. Ghira, on the other hand, was unfazed.

“Excuse me. Blake’s father here. Ghira Belladonna,” Ghira said.

“Oh, hi! Taiyang Xiao Long.” He was fully shouting now. So much for not scaring the dogs. “Dad of Yang and Ruby, adoptive grandpa of Zwei and TBD.”

“That is not a good puppy name,” Ruby said to herself.

“Yeah, think fast before that one sticks,” Yang said to her.

Ghira leaned forward on the couch. If he got any closer to the phone, he’d probably blow out the mic. “So, Taiyang.”

“You can call me Tai. We’re practically family, right?”

“Tai. Any plans for New Year’s Eve? We know a great restaurant...”

They’d get along just fine.

Once all of the presents were unwrapped and every scrap of wrapping paper had been collected from the floor, everyone set out to scavenge leftovers for lunch. At Kali’s request, Yang and Blake had extended their stay through New Year’s. Blake’s parents made it clear that they liked Yang very much, but that didn’t mean she was exempt from the standard parental grilling over several homemade meals. As far as Yang was concerned, the hardest part was out of the way.

Yang and Blake were in no hurry to get up. Unlike at the party the previous night, there was no competitive energy around the rush for food now. Someone turned on more holiday music in the kitchen, and it drifted into the family room like the smell of fresh cookies.

“Question,” Blake said. “Do you think our dads are going to fight about who gets to pay for dinner?”

“Nah,” Yang replied. “My dad doesn’t ever let me or Ruby pay for stuff, but he won’t argue over getting a free meal as long as he gets to barbecue in exchange.”

“I think my parents will find those terms agreeable.”

Yang dropped her head onto Blake’s shoulder. “I can’t believe we actually did it.”

“Which part?”

“I mean, the engagement thing is pretty great, but it might take a second to sink in. You’re not my girlfriend anymore.”

“Please don’t say it like that.”

Yang wrapped her arms around Blake. “That does sound kind of bad, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a little dramatic,” Blake laughed.

They just sat on the couch for a while, listening to the music and the bustling sounds from the kitchen. In the corner of the room, the lights on the tree twinkled. Yang didn’t want to go too far, but it was possible that she had a new favorite holiday. Top 3, at least.

She felt her stomach grumble and sat up, leaving a quick kiss on Blake’s cheek. “You hungry?”

“Are you hoping I’ll set you up to make a very specific of joke?”

“I wasn’t,” Yang said honestly. “But now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m thinking about it.”

With the world’s fondest eye roll, Blake stood up and offered a hand.

Yang took it and didn’t let go. They took the long way to the kitchen, cutting through the living room.

Blake stopped at the threshold, and Yang’s stomach grumbled impatiently.

“What’s with the detour?” Yang asked.

“One last thing.” Blake looked up.

Mistletoe hung above them, and Blake’s sly smile simply had to be kissed.

“Merry Christmas, Yang,” Blake whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Blake.”

***