Authors Note: This particular drabble is inspired by how in Peter Pan things like dreams and kisses are treated as actual physical objects. Please enjoy.

Sometimes, late into the night Blake would find herself sleepless. Sometimes, when she was sure even the moon couldn't see what she was up to she'd sneak over to her dresser. Hidden there, in a back corner, was a dream she kept neatly wrapped up in a handkerchief. It was a dream she had been having since her second year of Beacon. A dream she hardly dared think of - for all that it sat like a stone in her stomach.

She'd slink to bed and turn it over in her hands. The dream was one that was mostly bare and cool save for its fiery heart. She found herself dreaming of a little house. Just big enough for two. A little house with a vegetable garden (Yang always was on about freshness for herbs and produce) and a fireplace. Maybe a small office where she could stash her books. A garage that could double as a workshop for weapons. Maybe someplace with a basement for a work out room. Little inconsequential things that were easily rearranged.

But, mostly she dreamed of Yang. Yang with dirt and grime smeared on her face banging through the front door singing old outdated sitcom tunes. Yang with Blake's name upon her lips and Love upon her tongue. Yang with a golden chain around her neck bearing a single plain silver band. Yang laughing as she helped Blake untangle her own golden band from matching colored hair. Twisting, turning thoughts of her and Yang. Of arms wrapped around waists or necks. Of kisses exchanged and warmth abound.

Slowly though, Blake turned the dream over looking at it from all sides. She wasn't sure when, or even how, but small fragile pieces had bumpily latched her precious dream. Dreams, strangely enough, of children. Children whose faces were always undefined exempting, maybe, Yang's broad warm grin. These little fragments were more akin to frayed threads than proper dreams themselves. But always little souls came in twos and always, always would they grin like Yang.

Shaking her head Blake sighed, frustrated with both herself and her life. It's not as though graduation was long ago and this dream un-achievable. It just hurt to think none of this could come true. Whenever had Yang so much as hinted at such things being possible between them? Ears tucking down, Blake grimaced at a particular flash from the dream. A flash of Yang with a little babe who's little tufted ears couldn't quite stick up all the way.

With a hiss Blake wraps up the dream and has it wedged in a corner to be forgotten until another moonless and sleepless night draws her near. Pulling back blankets and sheets Blake swears to herself she won't dream of these things anymore. If Yang, loud straight forward open Yang, hadn't made any mention then surely she wasn't interested. She needed to let the dream go. Tucking herself in Blake mutters to herself. "No more dreams."

Much to Blake's dismay the images her mind conjures that night are of a tiny hand grasping at her finger and soft laughter as Yang's lips brush hers.