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Beau’s drawn to Yasha and Jester almost instantly. They’re both mysterious in their own ways, they leave Beau with many questions, they leave Beau wanting more .
It’s merely a physical thing, at first. Beau wonders what it’d feel like to run her hands down their arms (because, fuck her, Jester and Yasha are really strong), she wonders what Yasha’s chapped lips would feel like against her own, she wonders how Jester’s sharp teeth would feel on her neck.
The thing is, Beau doesn't think she’s a very physical person. But, really, she’s kind of lying to herself. She’s just never had someone to be physical with . She's never truly had any good friends. People were always too temporary, they left too often, never giving her a chance to get close. She's grown used to keeping her distance, to not getting her hopes up.
(This is why it hurts, sometimes, to watch Yasha leave. This is why it's hard for Beau to convince herself that Yasha's different, that she will come back, unlike the rest. Luckily, Jester's always at her side to help her do some convincing).
For the longest time, she's felt this void inside her, this need that she didn't quite know how to fill. She's carried on, despite it. She's surviving, and that's what matters, right? Right.
(Not really.)
It isn't even something she's aware of. Not until she meets Jester, at least. Because Jester hugs people. Jester touches people. All the time. She brushes Beau's arm when she walks past her, she bumps their knees together when they sit next to each other, she locks a strand of hair behind Beau's ear and oh. Oh . So this is what it was.
Beau tries to take some distance, at first. Tries to think about it logically. Rationally. But fuck it, when has Beau ever been rational about anything in her life?
Jester is really, really hard to stay away from. Jester doesn't want to be stayed away from, or whatever. That's Beau's excuse, anyways.
So Beau's distance lasts, like, a day, at most, but then she comes back to their room and Jester smiles at her and opens her arms from the bed and, well, if any two things are true about Beau is that she's not rational, and that she's never been able to deny a pretty girl anything once in her whole life. So, naturally, she falls asleep in Jester's arms. And, naturally, she loves every minute of it.
They meet Yasha a day later, and Beau is... curious, to say the least. Jester catches her staring and winks at her. Beau absolutely does not blush. The fact that Yasha's that much taller than her does absolutely nothing for Beau.
Clearly.
Jester teases her about it later, and Beau feels like she's in hell. But a good kind of hell, maybe, because Jester seems to be even more touchy than usual. Beau's still riding the high from the previous night, and she's definitely not going to start complaining.
But the high never really dies down, because suddenly she's dangling on Yasha's shoulder and she's being fucking carried into the tent. She can see Jester giggling and smirking at her before they go in. This is decidedly one of the weirdest days in Beau's life. It's pretty great.
"Mollymauk," Beau hears, "That Jester's adorable. I like her." Her stomach sinks a little. She can't really blame Yasha, because, after all, Jester is adorable. Certainly not the type of person Beau thought she'd ever be attracted to.
She feels a tugging feeling at the pit of her stomach, one she's not entirely familiar with. She doesn't know how to feel.
So "Hey Yasha," She says, "I heard you talking about my friend Jester."
"Ah, shit."
"Yeah."
"I didn't mean anything by it, I was just..."
"No, dude, she's never mentioned a significant other, so, I mean..." Beau doesn't know why she feels the need to say this, but the words burn their way out of her mouth regardless, leaving a bitter taste behind.
"Oh, I- I'm not looking for anything, I just--" But that doesn't make Beau feel better, not really. Her stomach sinks even more, for some reason.
"Will you hold me through the show?" She just wants to change the subject as quickly as she can, and she doesn't even realize what she's saying until the words are out of her mouth. She wants to feel embarrassed, but she doesn't, so she just stares at Yasha.
"These arms are worth a lot," Yasha says in response. And Beau's gotta give it to her, this girl really knows how to leave her wanting.
But she doesn't have 5 gold to spare, so she just sits down grumpily. She really tries for it to go unnoticed, but it doesn't, apparently, because Jester sneaks her arm around her waist only a moment later. Beau wants to be mad about it, for some reason, wants desperately for Jester's touch to not be so damn fucking comforting. But she doesn't, and it is.
Beau thinks she can live with that.
But of course, their lives are really fucking weird, so no more than 15 minutes later they're all fighting zombies while the crowd escapes. Just a regular Thursday evening.
And then the guards are on them, and then Yasha leaves, for the first time, and Beau tries not to let it sting too much.
(It does.)
-
Yasha becomes a regular part of their lives soon enough and, even with how often she comes and goes, it's always easy for the group to open up to her when she returns. The group feels better with her around, Beau thinks. But then again, they're all pretty new to each other, so what does she know, really. She's still learning to see them as more than just partners in crime, she's trying to let herself get closer. But she pulls back, inevitably, each time.
Not even Jester seems to be able to break through her walls, not any more than she already has, anyway. Maybe it's because Beau’s just not used to it. Maybe she didn't like Jester as much as she thought. Maybe it's because every time she tries to get closer to Jester (or anyone, really), she hears her father's voice echo in her mind, reminding her she's not enough, and she never will be.
Who knows, right?
Beau considers leaving the group, for a while. She doesn't really know where she fits in, and sometimes she misses the familiarity of her old life. It was lonelier, but it was also easier.
So she just goes through a cycle, and she can't seem to snap out of it. She likes this group, she likes Jester, she likes Yasha, but there's always a question at the back of her mind. A what if.
What if she left. What if she turned around and never looked back. What if she went back to that shitty little town she used to do all her jobs in, got lost in the booze and crime and cheap sex again. What if, what if, what if.
But she never does walk away, she leaves those questions unanswered, left to rot away in some remote corner of her mind. She doesn't, because she's curious about these guys. They seem to be just as fucked up as she is, at least, and, although she probably shouldn't, she finds comfort in that. She thinks that maybe, eventually, she'll feel like she belongs. It's not something she's allowed herself to want, but she does, and the thought is a reassuring one.
-
She goes into her room, one night. It's dark, and rainy, and she's probably drank more ale than she should have. This is what's happening when she walks in: Jester has her sketchbook open and she’s staring at it intently with her tongue poking out, deep in thought. Behind her, with her back against the wall and her legs around Jester's, is Yasha. Yasha, whose hair is drenched in rainwater, who has her hands in Jester's own hair, who looks up at Beau with those piercing eyes of hers and makes Beau's knees go weak.
And Beau feels... a lot, when she sees this. She feels angry, at first. Angry that Yasha leaves, angry that she pops back in whenever she wants, angry that they're together, that she wasn't here for this. But anger melts, quickly, leaves only a sinking feeling in her chest, because of course . Of course they're together, of course she wasn't here with them, why would they even want her here? She's been so damn stupid, letting herself think she could ever belong, that she would ever be wanted.
But all of that dissipates rather quickly.
"Beau!" Jester calls, patting the spot next to her on the bed, "you're back! Come see what I've been drawing."
And Yasha shoots her a tiny smile, and Jester winks at her, and all she was feeling is just gone. So she steps in, closes the door behind her, and suddenly she feels like the room is charged with energy. It's almost electric, and it makes a chill run down Beau's spine.
"You know," Jester whispers to her in that conspiratory tone of hers, leans in so close that her breath brushes the shell of Beau's ear, "Yasha's really good at braiding hair. You really should let her do yours."
And, well, Jester's clearly never been discreet a day in her life, because Beau looks back and sees Yasha's tiny smirk, and she feels like she's going to pass out because this is a lot. Yasha raises an eyebrow at her and all Beau can do is nod, and Yasha's warmth is suddenly enveloping her, not Jester, and she can't believe she ever ever doubted this at all.
Yasha's legs settle around her own, her hands on Beau's hair, "Can I?" She tugs at the ribbon slightly.
"Uh... sure," Beau hesitates, even though she doesn't want to. It's been a long time since anyone has touched her hair. Since before she left her old home.
The thing is, her hair used to be pretty. Beautiful, even. It was a long, lustrous black that fell all the way past her waist. It used to be her peers' envy, and her mother's pride.
Beau hated every minute of it.
Her mother used to brush Beau's hair every night, before they went to bed. She used to braid it every morning after breakfast, sometimes so tight that Beau was left with a headache the rest of the day. She would parade Beau around town, would take her to dances and galas and festivals. “What a pretty girl,” old men would tell her, and she would let them ogle Beau like she was a piece of meat.
Just the thought of it makes her sick to her stomach.
Yasha must feel her shoulders tense, her spine straighten, because before she even goes near Beau's hair, her fingers dance along the base of her neck, move to her shoulders and down to the small of her back, then up again.
It's electrifying.
Yasha's fingers leave a tingling trail all over Beau's back and Beau doesn't know if she feels like crying or laughing or both.
She tries to take a deep breath but it sounds jagged, and vulnerable, and wrong. She feels wrong .
But then Jester's hand is on Beau's arm, Yasha's fingers unmoving on her shoulders. She breathes in again.
It's okay.
She relaxes, her shoulders go back to their usual slump, and she sinks a bit more into Yasha's touch. Yasha's hand hovers over her hair for a second before she tugs at the ribbon, and Beau's hair falls free.
And her touch is nothing like Beau's mother’s. Where Beau expects a harsh brush undoing her knots, Yasha's fingers weave their way easily through her hair. Where Beau expects pain, Yasha tugs at her hair gently. Where Beau expects dry remarks about her posture, her make up, her anything and everything , Jester hums a lullaby and lays her head on Beau's lap.
Beau definitely feels like crying now.
Maybe she does shed a tear or two, not that she'd ever admit it to anyone, even herself.
Yasha starts massaging her scalp, and Beau allows herself to relax a bit more. She closes her eyes for a second or two.
She has no idea how much time goes by, but Jester’s tracing her finger over Beau’s thigh, doodling something only she can see, leaving a tingling trail behind. And, damn, Yasha really knows what to do with her fingers. That is definitely not a thought Beau should be having right now. Yasha slides her hand down to Beau’s shoulders and hits just the right spot.
Beau lets out a moan.
Fuck .
Beau’s eyes snap open, she sits upright and, no, fuck you, she’s not blushing. She just wants to leave. Every inch of her is screaming at her to run run run run.
Yasha’s hands have stilled on the back of her neck, and so have Jester’s, and Beau kind of wishes the earth would swallow her whole.
But Jester’s eyes are on her, half-lidded and dark and Beau thinks if she could just breathe for a minute then she could try to figure out what that means and oh. Jester grabs a fistful of her hair and pushes her down and they are kissing . And it’s sloppy and awkward and so, so fucking good.
Beau thinks she hears Yasha mutter something about the braids being ruined, but then Beau feels her arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer and everything just feels right .
This is a very uncomfortable position to be in.
She sits back up and grins at Jester, cracks her neck, and positions herself so she’s face to face with Yasha.
(And, if Yasha’s cheeks turn a little pink before Beau kisses her, Beau chooses not to comment on it.)
That night she falls asleep in their arms and it's the happiest she's ever felt in a long time.
Granted, she wakes up with more kinks in her back than she'd care to have and a very, very sore neck, but she loves every second of it. Her head is on Jester's chest, and Yasha is at her back with her arms around them both.
Turns out Jester snores in her sleep. Beau thinks it is the cutest fucking thing she's ever seen in her entire life.