Cinder/Velvet (I forgot who asked for this, but if you send me a message, I’ll tag you.)

Velvet nervously checked her scroll for what must have been the thirtieth time that hour, her single beer gone flat and lukewarm, droplets of condensation bleeding down the bottle to pool on the wooden bar. Beacon might not be particularly strict about enforcing its curfew, but as one of the few openly Faunus students, people like Cardin Winchester were always watching her, eager to brand all of her personal mistakes onto the foreheads of every single Faunus. Mistakes like sneaking out after dark to a grimy nightclub in the shipping district.

She really hadn’t thought that one through.

All she wanted was one night to relax. One night away from the slurs. Insults. Threats. Students yanking on her ears until she was certain they would rip right off her skull, which, though she hated herself for thinking it, would solve her problem. Just one night where she wasn’t expected to represent an entire people, that wasn’t so much to ask.

And here she was, squeezed into one of the few empty spaces at the bar. On her left, a broad shouldered man dressed in a Schnee Dust mining uniform with a large, discolored sweat stain on the chest, still damp as if he’d only just gotten off of work even though it was almost midnight. A pair of tusks poked out from behind his bottom lip, and he never raised his eyes from his pint glass except to ask for a refill.

On her right was a thin, pinch-faced man, a pair of glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose and a hole cut into the seat of his pants to accommodate his hairless rat tail. He tried to hand her a pamphlet on Faunus rights when she first sat down, but after she refused, went back to ignoring her in favor of chain-smoking his way through a pack of cigarettes, grinding out the butts in an already overflowing ashtray.

Velvet caught herself reaching for her scroll again and deliberately forced her hand away from her pocket. Fifteen more minutes, and then she would leave. There was no sense in wasting them worrying. With confidence she wasn’t entirely sure she felt, she took a long sip of her beer, barely able to taste it through the cloud of cigarette smoke.

“Excuse me, I believe you’re in my chair.”

With all the ambient noise, it took Velvet a moment to register the words, and longer still to repress the urge to jump up and apologize. This was a Faunus club, not some prissy Schnee affair, and she had just as much of a right to be here as anyone.

“I-I don’t think-” Velvet said.

“Of course! Sorry, sorry!” The thin man scrambled off of his stool and ran for the safety of the crowded dance floor, cigarette forgotten on the bar in his haste.

“-you were talking to me,” she finished. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

A woman slid onto the empty seat, and though Velvet was trying her hardest not to make eye contact, she couldn’t help but notice the woman’s irises were a bloody, molten gold, the same color as the patterns worked through her red velvet dress.

“Sweet girl, don’t worry yourself over it. We all make mistakes, don’t we,” she said with a smile, her voice surprisingly high and friendly. She held out a hand. “Please, call me Cinder.”

“Velvet,” she said, hesitating for a moment before shaking her hand. Cinder’s palm was warm, like wrapping her hands around a mug of hot chocolate. Slowly, the tension eased out of her shoulders, and she gave Cinder a genuine smile of her own.

“Velvet,” Cinder repeated as if she was tasting every syllable. “Aren’t you a little young for a place like this?”

Velvet froze. “I mean – my b-birthday is early –”

“Shh, shh, it’ll be our secret.” It had taken Velvet ten minutes of shouting and waving her money to get the bartender to take her order, but Cinder summoned him with nothing more than a crook of her finger. “Whiskey for us both.”

While the bartender hurried off to get their drinks, Cinder rested her chin on her palm and gave Velvet an appraising, almost hungry look. “You’re new here.”

That sounded like a prompt, and having Cinder’s full attention made Velvet flush, anxiety forgotten. It wouldn’t hurt to tell her a little. “Yeah,” Velvet said, “I don’t really go out much.”

“Work keeping you busy?”

“Classes.” She couldn’t resist adding, proudly, “I’m training to become a huntress.”

“How exciting,” Cinder said, her smile sharpening. “And where do you go to school?”

Velvet fidgeted with her beer bottle, picking at the corner of its label with her fingernail. “Well, I… um, Beacon.”

Before Cinder could respond, the bartender returned with their drinks. She accepted them without even glancing at him and pressed one into Velvet’s hands. “Now that is quite the achievement. We should celebrate.” She raised her glass in a toast. “To monsters and huntresses. One is simply so boring without the other.”

Velvet clinked her glass out of politeness, but set it down on the bar without taking a sip.

“What’s wrong,” Cinder asked, “is it too strong for you?” When Velvet nodded and made a face, she laughed and held out her own drink. “We can’t have that. Go on. Try it. A little burn never hurt anyone.”

A dozen refusals were poised on the tip of Velvet’s tongue. She couldn’t go back to Beacon drunk. It was late. She didn’t know Cinder. The last time she’d tried whiskey, she swallowed wrong and collapsed back on the couch in a coughing fit, her friends alternately laughing and whacking her on the back.

Instead of saying any of them, Velvet let Cinder hold the glass to her lips and slowly tilt it until she either had to take a sip or let it spill down her chin. The whiskey tasted as bitter and harsh as she remembered, but the backs of Cinder’s fingers were brushing her chin, warmer than the alcohol burn. This close, she could see the lipstick mark Cinder left on the rim of the glass, and deliriously wondered what it would be like to have that red, red mouth pressed against her own.

“Good girl,” Cinder said, cupping Velvet’s cheek with her free hand, thumb pressed under her jaw to feel her throat work as she swallowed. “You know, Beacon has always been an interest of mine.”

Velvet nodded as best she could with the glass still at her lips.

“I didn’t think there were many Faunus there. Not openly, at least.” Cinder pulled the drink back to give her a chance to breathe. “But with those ears that isn’t an option for you, is it?”

“I wouldn’t even if I could.” Velvet’s voice came out steady, though she was red-faced from the whiskey and proximity to Cinder.

She understood why some Faunus practiced ear binding, she’d thought of it herself when the taunts became too much, but it would never end there. Bind your ears. Grind down your horns. Cut off your tails. Hack away pieces of yourself until you can fit in with the mob and pray they never notice the scars.

“Of course not, you’re strong, I can see it in you,” Cinder said softly, holding out the glass once more. Her smile only grew wider when Velvet willingly leaned forward and parted her lips. “You’ll make a fine huntress.”

The praise and the whiskey both pooled in Velvet’s belly, warm and intoxicating. A little surprised and her own daring, she put her hand on Cinder’s knee, well below the hem of her dress, ready to yank it back in an instant if Cinder seemed displeased.

Cinder’s hand left her cheek to stroke her hair back from her face, lingering near the base of her Faunus ears. “It must be so lonely. Everyone’s example and no one’s friend…”

Velvet closed her eyes and tilted her head the half inch it took for Cinder to be touching her ears. The reflexes she’d built up over the years were screaming at her to move back before Cinder could grab them and twist them until she went deaf for days, but they were so easy to ignore with Cinder’s hands on her.

With just two fingers, Cinder stroked the length of her ear, sending a shiver racing down Velvet’s spine. “Sweet, sweet girl, you’re as soft as your name. Are you lonely, Velvet? Would you like a friend?”

Velvet squeezed her knee in a silent ‘yes’. She wanted it all, the warmth and the praise and the chance to be herself, flawed and aching, instead of some shorthand for the Faunus as a whole.

“Good, I can always use more friends in Beacon,” Cinder said, putting the drink down and pulling Velvet into a kiss.

Her lips burned like the whiskey, consuming Velvet’s every worry, every fear, until there was nothing left but ash and need.