extra tags: discussion of. you know. the world ending
//
Cinder looks at her watch, then the clock on the wall. Back at her watch, over to Winter on her bed, reading a book.
“Winter,” she says.
Winter looks up, rolling her eyes. “What?”
She points to the clock. It’s almost midnight; Winter’s dad will kill her when she comes home tomorrow morning. “The world is supposed to end in about six minutes.”
Winter snorts, goes back to her book. “You really believe in all that? It’s stupid. It’s just a bunch of conspiracy theorists.”
“Well, no, but. I mean, what would you do if it did?”
“What do you think?” She puts her book down and rolls onto her back, stretching her hands over her head. “Panic like the rest of everyone else.”
There’s a weird tingling feeling in Cinder’s gut, a sense of impermanence, of change. She gets up and crosses the room to her bed, sitting down next to Winter so the bed dips and she’s forced to roll against her. Winter shoves her away as she sits up, grinning. “No, I mean, what would you actually do? Like what would be on your list of priorities? Now you’d never turn sixteen, right? Never get into college, never go see your sister’s concert next week —”
Winter shoves her again. “That’s just depressing. What’s your point?”
“I’m saying,” she says, digging deep for confidence that isn’t a front or a ruse for once, “that if I had six minutes to live — five minutes, sorry — I’d probably spend it making out with you.”
“Hardly long enough for a makeout session, don’t you think?” Winter hums, picking her book back up again, and then seems to process what she’s just said.
Needless to say, she puts the book back down.
“Yeah, I mean, couldn’t really get my tongue all the way down your throat,” Cinder says airily, and then whatever she’s about to say next dies in her throat when Winter sits up and grips her shoulders.
“You’re thinking about kissing me?” she asks, blushing.
She’s already gotten in the habit of speaking before she thinks. Cinder tilts her head to the side and regards her, relying once again on what little genuine confidence she has to pull herself through. “You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed.”
Winter flushes darker as her reward, looking down. Her hands are still braced on Cinder’s shoulders, though, which doesn’t really do much to help the awkward atmosphere. “You — I am not —”
“You’re very cute,” Cinder repeats. “Why were you asking?”
Winter looks at the clock, then back at her, the corners of her mouth set in determination. “If you’re thinking about it,” she says, “then get on with it. You’ve only got four and a half minutes.”
FILL: Team Anime/Manga
word count: 453
pairing: winter schnee/cinder fall
fandom: RWBY
characters: winter schnee, cinder fall
extra tags: discussion of. you know. the world ending
//
Cinder looks at her watch, then the clock on the wall. Back at her watch, over to Winter on her bed, reading a book.
“Winter,” she says.
Winter looks up, rolling her eyes. “What?”
She points to the clock. It’s almost midnight; Winter’s dad will kill her when she comes home tomorrow morning. “The world is supposed to end in about six minutes.”
Winter snorts, goes back to her book. “You really believe in all that? It’s stupid. It’s just a bunch of conspiracy theorists.”
“Well, no, but. I mean, what would you do if it did?”
“What do you think?” She puts her book down and rolls onto her back, stretching her hands over her head. “Panic like the rest of everyone else.”
There’s a weird tingling feeling in Cinder’s gut, a sense of impermanence, of change. She gets up and crosses the room to her bed, sitting down next to Winter so the bed dips and she’s forced to roll against her. Winter shoves her away as she sits up, grinning. “No, I mean, what would you actually do? Like what would be on your list of priorities? Now you’d never turn sixteen, right? Never get into college, never go see your sister’s concert next week —”
Winter shoves her again. “That’s just depressing. What’s your point?”
“I’m saying,” she says, digging deep for confidence that isn’t a front or a ruse for once, “that if I had six minutes to live — five minutes, sorry — I’d probably spend it making out with you.”
“Hardly long enough for a makeout session, don’t you think?” Winter hums, picking her book back up again, and then seems to process what she’s just said.
Needless to say, she puts the book back down.
“Yeah, I mean, couldn’t really get my tongue all the way down your throat,” Cinder says airily, and then whatever she’s about to say next dies in her throat when Winter sits up and grips her shoulders.
“You’re thinking about kissing me?” she asks, blushing.
She’s already gotten in the habit of speaking before she thinks. Cinder tilts her head to the side and regards her, relying once again on what little genuine confidence she has to pull herself through. “You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed.”
Winter flushes darker as her reward, looking down. Her hands are still braced on Cinder’s shoulders, though, which doesn’t really do much to help the awkward atmosphere. “You — I am not —”
“You’re very cute,” Cinder repeats. “Why were you asking?”
Winter looks at the clock, then back at her, the corners of her mouth set in determination. “If you’re thinking about it,” she says, “then get on with it. You’ve only got four and a half minutes.”