Under Moonshine
The library was quiet.
A comfortable quiet.
Weiss Schnee sat primly at one end of the table, Myrtenaster resting beside her, various vials of refined Dust neatly arranged before her.
Jaune Arc, on the other hand, sat slouched over, arms folded, eyes slightly glazed as he stared at the array of different colored Dust crystals and powdered capsules laid out before him.
“So…” Jaune exhaled. “You’re really making me study this, huh?”
Weiss arched a delicate brow. “It’s not just studying, Jaune. If you’re going to use Dust properly, you need to understand the mechanics behind it.”
Jaune groaned. “Weiss, I fight with a sword. A normal, good-old-fashioned, usually no-dust-involved sword. Why do I need to know Dust mechanics again?”
Weiss scoffed. “Because you’re an idiot who fights people that use Dust all the time, and frankly, it’s embarrassing that you don’t even know the fundamentals. Or have you forgotten that you use Gravity and HardLight dust too?”
“Oh yeah, good job reminding me.”
“Why does the Brothers have to make me suffer? Or is it her?”
"Doubt it. She's too kind for that."
"True, still, it's horrifying to think about that its with you."
Jaune squinted at her. “Wow. You’re really leaning into the insults today.”
Weiss smirked. “I figured I’d balance out all the flattery you’ve been throwing around lately.”
Jaune rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight the tiny smile pulling at his lips. “Fine, fine. Lay it on me, Weiss.”
Weiss clasped her hands together. “Good. Now, let’s start with the basics.”
She tapped one of the vials. “Dust, in its raw crystalline form, is highly volatile. It requires refinement before it can be effectively used in weapons, ammunition, or infused into combat gear.”
Jaune nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. “Right, right. So… it’s like seasoning. You don’t just throw the whole thing into the pot; you gotta prepare it first.”
Weiss stared.
“…That is the dumbest analogy I have ever heard.”
Jaune grinned. “But am I wrong?”
Weiss sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Unfortunately, no.”
As Weiss continued explaining, Jaune tried his best to keep up.
Really, he did.
But there was a lot of technical stuff involved like Dust compositions, activation principles, compatibility types.
At some point, Jaune rubbed the back of his head, sighing. “Man, this should be easy for me, huh?”
Weiss, still arranging her materials, nodded. “Yes, it should be.”
Jaune huffed. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Weiss, but my brain’s pretty rusty.”
Weiss paused.
Then—
“Should I smack it for you? Get the gears working?”
Jaune groaned. “Please don’t.”
Weiss smirked, rolling her eyes. “Then focus, Jaune.”
Jaune muttered something under his breath but straightened up, forcing himself to actually pay attention.
Jaune listened as Weiss continued explaining, watching as she effortlessly demonstrated Dust application.
She was confident, precise, handling each crystal and vial with care, her voice smooth and steady as she detailed the different properties of each element.
Jaune found himself leaning on the table, resting his chin in his hand.
Somewhere along the way, his mind drifted slightly, not from boredom, but from… realization.
It’s peaceful.
The words slipped out before he even thought about them.
“…It’s peaceful,” he murmured.
Weiss, still mid-explanation, glanced at him.
She saw the soft look in his eyes, the way he wasn’t annoyed or frustrated, but actually content.
Weiss hesitated, then let out a small breath.
“…It is.”
Jaune blinked at her.
Weiss looked down at her hands, fiddling with a vial of powdered Dust.
“…When I was younger, I used to study like this alone,” she admitted. “And even when I mastered it, no one really… cared about the process. They only cared about the results. Beacon changed that somehow.”
Jaune watched her quietly.
“So,” Weiss continued, voice softer, “it’s… different, explaining it to someone like this. Having someone listen.”
Jaune smiled. “Well, hey. If it makes you feel better, I think you’re a great teacher.”
Weiss snorted. “You’re just saying that because I haven’t smacked you silly yet.”
Jaune chuckled. “You caught me.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “Y’know, you should probably be spending time with your team instead of babysitting me.”
Weiss arched a brow. “And you should probably be spending time with yours.”
Jaune exhaled sharply, his gaze flickering to the side. “Yeah. Kinda… painful, though.”
Weiss went quiet for a moment, then nodded, her voice quieter than before.
“…I get that.”
Silence.
Not uncomfortable. But heavy.
Jaune tapped his fingers against the table. “Did you look it up?”
Weiss hesitated, then nodded. “I did.”
Jaune turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “…Any results?”
Weiss took a breath.
“Less than,” she admitted. “No traces.”
Jaune exhaled through his nose. “Oh.” A pause. Then, softly— “That’s good.”
A moment passed before he asked, “And the rest?”
Weiss closed her book, her fingers lingering on the cover.
“They’re still criminal scum,” she said simply. “They're not active in Vale. I hope we don’t see them again.”
Jaune’s jaw tightened slightly. “Huh.”
He didn’t sound surprised.
Didn’t even react much.
He just… accepted it.
Then, after a beat—
“…You think that’ll happen again?”
Weiss was quiet.
“If it does,” Then she sighed. “We’ll go with the army thing again. I summon, while you amp me up.”
Jaune let out a tired chuckle, rubbing the back of his head. “Man. I sure like being an Aura battery.”
Weiss rolled her eyes. “You really shouldn’t pout about it. It works well when you're surrounded by thousands of stampeding Grimm."
Then she poked his cheek.
Jaune blinked. “Did you just—”
“Not bat at all,” Weiss said, deadpan. “It’s growing well.
Jaune groaned, rubbing his jaw. “It’s itchy! I really should.”
Weiss gave him a look that plainly said no.
Jaune sighed dramatically. “Ugh. I need a drink.”
Weiss hummed, tilting her head. “Maybe we should, once in a while.”
Jaune blinked. “Wait. Did Weiss Schnee just suggest drinking?”
Weiss rolled her eyes. “I meant wine, obviously. Besides, we're at the age now.”
Jaune grinned. “Pfft. Of course. Sure.”
Weiss flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder. “There are all kinds of wine, you know. Red, white, vintage, regional imports…”
Jaune, still grinning, leaned in his hand. “You ever try moonshine?”
Weiss frowned. “Moonshine?”
Jaune chuckled. “Yeah. Real strong stuff. Puts hair on your chest.”
Weiss looked at him flatly. “That sounds disgusting. Why would I want that!?”
Jaune laughed. “Nah, it’s great.”
Weiss pursed her lips, looking deep in thought.
Then to Jaune’s surprise.
“…I suppose I could consider trying it. Once.”
Jaune grinned. “Oh, this I gotta see.”
Weiss huffed, but she wasn’t entirely against the idea.
And somehow—
That was more amusing than anything.
The night air was cool atop the cliff, the distant lights of Vale twinkling like stars below.
Jaune sat on the edge, a metal flask in his hands. Beside him, Weiss Schnee sat, her usual pristine demeanor slightly compromised by the fact that she had agreed to this nonsense in the first place.
The moonshine in Jaune’s hands glowed faintly under the moonlight, its strong scent already making Weiss second-guess her life choices.
Jaune poured her a small amount into a cup, grinning.
“Alright, Snow Angel,” he said, handing it to her. “Maybe this too will help you grow a little taller.”
Weiss snorted. “Ha ha. Hilarious.”
Jaune smirked. “Who knows? Might even make you a little more… bouncy.”
Weiss stiffened.
Then slowly turned to glare at him.
“…Excuse me?”
Jaune chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. “Hey, hey, I’m just saying! Maybe this’ll give you a little boost when attacking.”
Weiss huffed, taking the cup. “I don’t need boosts. I have my own solutions. My Glyph can hold you just fine!”
Jaune raised an eyebrow. “Oh please... have you seen yourself stepping on glyphs every time you fight so you can actually reach me?”
Weiss clicked her tongue. “It is efficient and it works.”
Jaune grinned. “It’s funny looking.”
Weiss huffed. “It is tactical positioning.”
Jaune laughed. “But you waste so much Aura just trying to reach my height advantage.”
Weiss rolled her eyes. “Well, excuse me for not being a walking tree, Jaune.”
Jaune took a sip of his own drink, shaking his head with amusement. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Weiss.”
Weiss lifted the cup, her expression suspicious.
She sniffed it.
Immediately grimaced.
“…It reeks.”
Jaune snorted. “Yeah. That means it’s good.”
Weiss squinted at him. “You’re sure this won’t kill me? I’d really like to at least reach my thirties this time, thank you very much.”
Jaune grinned. “Only one way to find out.”
Weiss sighed.
Then, with far too much dignity for what she was about to do—
She took a sip.
Immediately, her entire face twisted in horror.
“UGH!” She spat some of it out, coughing violently. “It tastes like those disgusting Vacuoan fruits! The one with the bugs”
Jaune burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you actually spat it out!”
Weiss glared at him, wiping her mouth. “This is poison.”
Jaune, grinning ear to ear, raised his own cup. “Nah. This is culture.”
Weiss looked betrayed.
Jaune tilted his head. “C’mon, Princess. You agreed to try it.”
Weiss groaned.
Then, out of sheer spite, she took another sip.
This time, she forced herself to swallow, even as she shuddered violently.
Jaune, still cackling, nudged her shoulder. “Proud of you, Weiss. You’ve grown so much.”
Weiss exhaled sharply, setting her cup down. “If I die tonight, I’m blaming you in the next life.”
Jaune smirked. “That’s fair.”
Weiss stared at the flask.
Then at Jaune.
Then—without warning—
She kicked him in the butt.
Jaune yelped, nearly tumbling forward off the cliff.
“HEY—”
“That’s for mocking me.”
Jaune turned, half-glaring, half-grinning. “Oh, you’re so lucky I don’t have the heart to kick you back.”
Weiss smirked, victorious.
Jaune rolled his eyes, shaking his head before taking another sip of his drink.
The shattered moon hung higher above them, casting a pale glow over the cliffside.
The conversation had faded, replaced by something quieter.
Something heavier.
Jaune swirled the moonshine in his cup, watching the liquid catch the light. “So…” he started, voice lighter than the weight in his chest. “What do you think happens next?”
Weiss glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “Next?”
Jaune leaned back in his hands. “Yeah. Y’know. Future stuff. Seeing that Miss Fire Bitch didn't do that this time.”
Weiss hummed, tapping her fingers against her own cup. “Well, logically? We actually graduate. Become Huntsmen. Pray that we won’t get thrown into a war we don’t fully understand. And… hope we don’t die.”
Jaune chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Wow. So uplifting.”
Weiss gave a tired smirk. “You asked.”
Jaune exhaled through his nose. “Guess I did.”
They fell into silence, the wind rustling through the trees behind them.
Then—
Jaune smirked. “You know they might misunderstand.”
Weiss rolled her eyes. “They’re free to think whatever they want.”
Then with a teasing glint in her eye—
“But what’s the matter, Jaune? Don’t want to make it look like something?”
Jaune blinked. “... Huh?”
Weiss smirked wider. “Oh, I see how it is. You’re here again and suddenly, you want a redhead instead of a white-haired beauty?”
She narrowed her eyes, leaning in slightly.
“That so, Jaune?”
Jaune froze.
The teasing tone in Weiss’ voice should have been harmless, should have been just another jab.
But something about it hit too deep.
And when Jaune responded, his voice was low, serious—almost hurt.
“…How could you even think that?”
Weiss blinked, caught off guard.
Jaune stared into his cup, fingers tensing slightly around the metal.
Weiss, regaining herself, huffed. “Oh, please. It’s very likely.”
Jaune looked away.
Weiss had meant it as a joke, but Jaune’s reaction was anything but.
She watched as his jaw tightened, as his shoulders stiffened, as if some invisible weight had suddenly settled onto his back.
“…No,” Jaune muttered, shaking his head. “It’s not.”
Weiss frowned. “You say that like you actually feel guilty.”
Jaune let out a slow breath.
“…Maybe I do.”
Weiss tilted her head, her voice quieter now. “…Why?”
Jaune was silent for a long moment.
Then, finally—
“…Because I left them.”
Weiss watched him carefully.
He didn’t need to explain who he meant.
She already knew.
She sighed, leaning back. “…Jaune.”
Jaune shook his head. “I don’t know what’s worse, Weiss. That I’m here. That I actually selfishly enjoy it here. Or that I left them behind, knowing what happens next.”
Weiss studied him.
For all the banter, the teasing, the ridiculous antics, Jaune Arc had always been like this.
She set her cup down.
Then, before she could stop herself.
She flicked his forehead.
Jaune blinked. “Ow—what the hell?”
Weiss sighed, rolling her eyes. “Idiot.”
Jaune rubbed his forehead, squinting. “What was that for?”
“For thinking too much,” Weiss said, huffing. “For assuming you don’t deserve to be here? And for forgetting the fact that I’m not going anywhere, either.”
Jaune stared at her.
Weiss crossed her arms. “You think you’re the only one who struggles with this? The only one who wonders if we should even be here?”
She exhaled.
“But we are here. And as much as you want to carry that weight alone, you don’t have to.”
Jaune was quiet.
Then, slowly—
He let out a small chuckle.
Weiss narrowed her eyes. “What?”
Jaune smirked. “You’re really bad at pep talks.”
Weiss glared. “I will throw you off this cliff. Maybe that will make you forget about it.”
Jaune laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, I get it. Thanks, Weiss.”
Weiss scoffed. “Don’t get sentimental.”
Jaune grinned. “Too late.”
Weiss sighed, grabbing her cup again. “You are so annoying.”
Jaune raised his own cup. “Please, you’re glad I’m here..”
Weiss huffed. “Drink your damn moonshine, Arc. We still have enough thanks to you.”
Jaune chuckled, clinking his drink against hers.
Jaune Arc was dying.
Or at least, it felt like he was dying.
His head pounded like a war drum, his mouth felt like sandpaper, and his stomach was in a constant state of rebellion.
And sitting beside him, looking equally miserable, was Weiss Schnee who had her arms crossed, her usual pristine demeanor utterly ruined by the sheer level of suffering she was experiencing.
They were both nursing the worst hangover of their lives.
And to make matters infinitely worse—
Glynda Goodwitch stood before them, arms crossed, eyes burning with the promise of judgment.
A headache on top of a headache.
Jaune barely had the strength to groan.
Professor Goodwitch pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me make sure I understand this correctly.”
Jaune and Weiss winced at the volume of her voice.
Goodwitch noticed.
So she spoke louder.
“You two,” she continued, tone sharp, “decided to take a bottle of illegally obtained moonshine—”
Weiss mumbled something under her breath.
Goodwitch raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Weiss cleared her throat, trying and failing to maintain dignity. “Academically significant moonshine.”
Jaune, despite the pain, snorted.
Goodwitch glared at both of them.
“Academically significant or not, you both thought it would be wise to drink yourselves into unconsciousness on a cliff.”
Weiss grumbled, rubbing her temples. “We were not unconscious.”
Goodwitch narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. My mistake. You were just rolling down the cliffside in a drunken stupor when Professor Port found you.”
Jaune winced. “That… might have happened. To be fair, we were testing how Aura can buffer the fall?”
Weiss groaned. “Stupid, who’d believe that?”
“Do you two realize how utterly irresponsible this was?” Goodwitch continued, pacing in front of them. “Drinking on school grounds? Endangering yourselves? You are Huntsmen-in-training, not reckless drunks from some tavern! What happened to you, Miss Schnee!? Drinking alcohol this recklessly is not good for you two!”
Jaune, head in hands, let out a suffering groan.
“I’m sorry,” Weiss muttered, equally pained. “But we get it, Headmistress.”
Goodwitch stopped pacing.
“Oh,” she said, tone dripping with cold amusement. “You get it, do you?”
Jaune peeked through his fingers. “…That’s not good, is it?”
Weiss sighed. “No, Jaune. No, it is not.”
“You are at the age now, you have every right to a drink,” Goodwitch straightened, adjusting her glasses. “But both of you are in detention for the next two weeks.”
Jaune flinched. “Two weeks?”
“Two weeks,” Goodwitch confirmed. “Cleaning duty. Classroom maintenance. Whatever else I think of. Be grateful I’m not expelling you. This will not happen again. Even I have my patience.”
“It won’t, Ma’am.”
Weiss let out a quiet, miserable sigh, then jabbed Jaune in the ribs. “This is your fault.”
Jaune gaped. “My fault? You’re the one who kept drinking even after saying it was disgusting!”
“I was proving a point!” Weiss shot back.
“A terrible point!”
Goodwitch rubbed her temples. “I swear, it’s like dealing with children.”
Jaune and Weiss grumbled in unison.
By the time they were dismissed, the two of them stumbled out of Goodwitch’s office, the sunlight attacking them with ruthless intensity.
Jaune groaned. “Ugh. I think I’m gonna die.”
Weiss looked equally miserable. “I regret everything.”
Jaune glanced at her.
“…Worth it?”
Weiss took a long, slow breath.
Then, as if it physically pained her to admit—
“…Maybe.”
Jaune chuckled, rubbing his aching temples. “That’s the spirit.”
Weiss groaned. “Can you shut up and move? I need a rest.”
And with that, the two of them stumbled off toward the infirmary, hungover, exhausted, and stuck in detention for two weeks.
But strangely?
It wasn’t the worst way to spend a weekend.