Off The Tracks
 
Blake Belladonna had her life down to a basic formula.

Wake up at five, work out till six, shower and breakfast by six thirty, catch the quarter-till seven train and go to work.


Earn minimum wage and deal with obnoxious customers till five, be back home and write until she needed to sleep.


It wasn't the healthiest of ways to live, surrounded by silence and feeling perpetually lonely, but it was her life.


She was... not quite happy, but content.


Content with her life.


Until the day she got groped on the train.


/


Yang wasn't really the type to plan her life.


Between boxing, lectures, and angry exes, she'd been forced to make some changes to her 'roll with it and let the punches come' lifestyle, but the one thing she'd adamantly refused was the idea that a person needed a schedule to be successful.


She'd wake up when she pleased, skip classes if they got in the way of her plans for the day, and only allow her trainers to tell her when she had to be somewhere.


And that was only because they could beat her up.


Well, probably. She was sure she could take most of them anyway... except for Pyrrha, but nobody could take Pyrrha.


So when the redhead had told her to meet her at the mall, and that lateness meant four rounds of bareknuckle...


Well, she'd woken up early and hopped on the train.


/


Blake had been minding her own business, watching the window over the rows of people early or lucky enough to get a seat, and wishing she'd thought to bring a book.


She felt fingers enter her back pocket, and at first thought they were going for her wallet. Instead of making a scene, she decided to let them be disappointed.


But when they brushed against her and lingered, she decided to put the skills she'd learned growing up with four foster brothers to good use.


She threw her elbow backwards into their throat.


/


Yang'd barely made it onto the train before the doors swooshed shut.


A quick scan of the train showed that there were no free seats, but that didn't bother her much.


After all, all she had to do was take a deep breath and seats would open up. Guys were so easy to mani-


Whoa.


She had black hair, wore long, but nowhere near as long as hers. Her body was a work of art, made by a sculptor over decades of work. But Yang barely notices. It's her face that draws the eye.


She was staring out of the window on Yang's side, and Yang can't help but feel lucky. She looks bored, her golden eyes unfocused, and her mouth hanging slightly open.


Despite her mind telling her that there was nothing attractive about her expression, the sheer indifference of it spoke to Yang.


Here was a woman who could watch impassively as the world moved around her, utterly content and certain that, no matter what else may change, she wouldn't let it affect her.


The kind of woman who, undoubtedly, spent every day exactly as she please, letting nothing stand in her way.


Yang wanted nothing more than to talk to her, but there was no way to approach someone so obviously uncaring for her surroundings...


Yang had the best idea.


/


Blake's eyes widened as her blow met empty air, but she redirected the momentum into a spin to better eye her target.


Her breath hitched.


Golden hair, a body to die for, and the widest eyes she'd ever seen. Also, the only purple eyes she'd ever seen.


She forced herself to focus on the girl's hands as they flew up to block her next strike, throwing a quick left at her stomach to forestall any thought of an attack.


/


Yang grinned to herself as she scribbled onto the scrap of paper.


It was easily the best plan she'd had.


She could just write her phone number down and slip it into her dream girl's pocket!


She was brilliant.


She crept close, and slowly, ever so slowly, pushed the slip of paper into the beauty's back pocket.


She was already pulling her fingers out when she realized how bad the idea was and went back for the paper.


Unfortunately, some asshole bumped into her arm, causing her to brush a bit too long.


And then an elbow was coming at her throat.


/


The hit to the stomach would've bent most people over, but Yang had taken worse from better. So when Blake followed up with a right, she managed to catch it.


"Okay..." She managed to gasp out, massaging her stomach. "Let me explain before you hit me again.


Blake glared, but nodded, eying the people backing away from the two.


"So..." Yang drew the word out, trying to come up with any explanation that didn't make her sound like the fool she obviously was.


"So." Blake repeated, pulling her hand from Yang's grasp and putting it on her hip.


Yang opened and closed her mouth intermittently. "I got nothin. Just... just check your pocket."


Blake's eyes narrowed, but she fished a scrap of paper out of her back pocket.


Her eyes widened, and she shoved the paper at the rapidly-reddening blonde, spitting out the words scrawled on it. "Yang. Call me. And I suppose this is your number?"


"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" Yang offered, subtly raising her arms to prepare for another assault.


Blake closed her eyes and shook her head. "I... you've. You're joking, right? This is some reality show. Where are the cameras?"


Yang opened her mouth, but Blake pressed on. "Grope a Date! Train Shenanigans? Railroad Whirlwind Romance?"


"Getting Railed Tonight?" Yang offered, unable to force the grin down.


Blake threw her hands into the air, turning away from the cause of her next ulcer.


"So... I'm Yang..."


Blake ignored her.


"And... I mean, you gotta admit, this would be a really funny 'how we met' story."


Blake tried not to chuckle.


"So... Where ya headed? I'd talk to someone else, but I think everyone's a little scared of us now."


Blake shook her head. "The mall. Headed to work."


Yang nodded at her back. "Cool, cool. The one on 5'th street? I'm headed there too."


"Isn't that nice."


The silence dragged on.


"So..." Yang kicked at the ground. "Where do you work?"


"Where are you headed?"


"I asked you first." Yang pointed out, grinning.


"And I'd prefer you to answer first." Blake finally turned around, crossing her arms.


"Right..." Yang's hand crept to the back of her head as she reddened. "I guess you have that right, huh? I'm going to Starbucks to meet up with a friend of mine."


Blake sighed. "Should I take your order now, or do you want to wait until we get there?"


"Huh. Small world... So, are you guys selling pumpkin spice lattes yet or-" She quailed under Blake's glare. "Okay I'll shut up now."


The silence returned.


After a few moments, Blake sighed. "Not yet. We start next week."


"Cool." Yang looked at the ceiling for a moment. "So, that's my real number, so..."


"You're pushing your luck."


"That's probably true.." She shot Blake her best cocky grin. "I'm cute, though."


Blake sniffed. "That has nothing to do with how I-"


Yang rolled her eyes. "Liar. If it wasn't for my looks, you'd probably still be hitting me."


The silence reigned again for a few minutes.


"Well, you're not wrong..." Blake admitted.


"So..." Yang drawled, waggling her eyebrows.


Blake shook her head. "I'll think about calling you."


Yang opened her mouth, but Blake threw a hand up.


"If! You stay quiet the rest of the way there, and don't flirt with me while I'm working."


Yang chuckled. "Sure thing."


/Omake-Popping the Question/



"So..." Yang asked, taking the seat across from Pyrrha. "Why'd you want to meet me here, anyway?"


"Yang... " The redhead took a deep breath, reaching out and taking Yang's hand in both of her own. "Do you believe in love?"


"Shit."


*Seinfeld theme plays*