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PowerPoints, Yasha thought, were an excellent example of a tool that was only as good as its user. Ms. Darby, 60-something with a nose that never came down from the air and an ego almost as large as the rims of her glasses, was not a good user.
At least the TA made sure the slides found their way online. If Yasha actually tried to read the paragraphs of information in tiny print on these slides, she'd end up needing glasses herself.
Class was nearly over, and the whispers of zippers pulled slowly and notebooks deposited gently into backpacks were growing louder with every passing second, forming a sort of echo of anticipation as their professor finished rattling off dates and started to wrap up with reminders of upcoming quizzes over the sudden roar of shuffling feet and laptops closing all around.
Yasha slung her bag over her shoulder and filed out behind the others for a deep breath of air unstaled by the restlessness of a hundred other bodies trapped in seats by the threat of an attendance policy. She had an hour between classes, not quite long enough to make going back to the apartment worthwhile but plenty of time to grab a snack - and it was Wednesday, which meant Beau was on shift. Decision made, then. Maybe she'd snag an extra sandwich for Beau and make up something to explain it.
Yasha didn't make it to the line for food - she spotted Beau nearly as soon as she walked in. She wasn't working, though her notebook was lying closed on the table with a pen laid neatly on top - she was…asleep? Concerned, Yasha approached and quietly looked her over. Not studying, and not on shift…
She'd recognized Beau by her topknot style and her tawny, sleeveless shoulders, but even knowing it was her, she looked so different. Her brow was creased slightly even in rest, forehead and cheeks shiny and a little pale in the light. It took a lot to slow Beau down, and she was far too restless to sleep in a public place - she hadn't even stayed a full night at Yasha's yet. She knew that Beau snatched sleep on different couches for the most part - was it possible she'd been without a place last night? The thought made something twist inside of Yasha, but she didn't have time to dwell on it as Beau started suddenly awake and snapped straight up at the sight of her.
Sort of.
She didn't make it more than a few inches up before her eyes started to flutter shut again, and she groaned as her head came to rest again on the table with a dull thud. She made a noise that had something of a greeting inside of it, but no words.
"Hi," Yasha said softly. "You're shivering." She reached a slow hand to rest on Beau's shoulder and found her skin clammy and cool to the touch. Maybe it wasn't the lights making her look washed out.
"S'cold in here," Beau mumbled, which was both untrue and something the Beau she knew would rather die than admit.
Concern became proper worry when Yasha pressed the back of a hesitant hand against the side of Beau's face and found it flushed and dry. Worry threatened to become panic when instead of pulling away to demand what the fuck Yasha thought she was doing, Beau's head rolled into her touch with a soft, barely-there groan.
"Beau, you're sick." Yasha reached for the bag over her shoulder and set it down to shed her light coat. Cool morning had already given way to the warm sunshine of mid autumn, but it wouldn't have mattered if it were snowing - Beau needed the warmth and Yasha had it to spare. "Why are you on campus? You need to be resting."
Now Beau did raise a feeble arm to push at her, but seemed to lose momentum halfway through and let it drop back to dangle beside her in the chair. "S'what I'm doing. Jester'll be back on campus later n' take me to her house." She sighed and gave a full-body shudder as Yasha's coat settled over her shoulders. "M'fine."
She looked so small, curled in on herself alone at this table meant for four in a jacket at least three sizes too big, and a bolt of fierce protection flickered through Yasha's chest. "You can barely string a sentence together, and Jester's class is three hours from now, plus waiting." The words came out on the line between urgency and harshness, and Beau's droopy eyes squinted up at her warily with obvious effort.
Yasha took a deep inhale and rested her hand again on Beau's forehead for lack of anything else to do. Again, Beau turned slightly into her hand, eyes fluttering shut. Yasha couldn't resist a soft, slow stroke of her thumb up the space between Beau's eyebrows. "Have you at least had any medicine?" Probably not, if she'd been consigned to sticking around on campus waiting for Jester, but it seemed the thing to ask.
The back of Yasha's coat lifted a little with Beau's tiny shrug. "It'll run its course. You have class soon, don't you? Big test. You should eat something."
"Oh no, no. We're not shifting topics here, Beau."
A breathy grunt that reached gamely for annoyance and fell short. "You feel better if I got something to eat too?"
"And some medicine, yes. At least walk with me to the little shop in the campus center. Please."
For a moment, she was sure she'd pushed too hard too fast - that Beau's ability to mitigate her natural contrarian impulses was too worn down by sickness to allow her to go along with Yasha. But then that small body seemed to gather itself with an exhale that wasn't quite a groan, and Beau sat up to muzzily slide her notebook into her bag with a frown that Yasha refused to take any offense about.
She smiled encouragingly when Beau blinked up at her and hoped it didn't trip over concern and look patronizing. Mostly she was just delighted to see Beau get to her feet and pull her jacket more closely around her instead of insisting that Yasha take it back.
"M'kay, I'm up," said Beau. "Less go." She took two confident steps before listing heavily towards the wall, and her face when Yasha caught her shoulders seemed resigned under the exhaustion.
"Strike three," Yasha said softly. "Can I please, please convince you to come get some rest at my apartment?"
Beau had been pliant under Yasha's hands, and her heart sank as she felt those muscles tense through her coat. To her surprise, they dropped again a moment later with a sigh. "You're not missing a big test because of me."
A compromise was brewing, and Yasha reached for it gratefully - carefully. "I can get you there and come back in time for my test. You sleep, and Jester can come get you after class if -"
It was too much to hope Beau had missed her cutoff. "If?"
"If you still want her to. You know you're welcome to stay, but no pressure."
Beau watched her warily a moment longer before leaning against Yasha's body with a sigh. "Hurry up so you don't miss your test. Figure out the rest later."
Yasha wrapped her arm around her waist with a nod and started moving. "Later."
Beau made it to the car on their combined four legs, but she was halfway back to sleep and fading fast before Yasha had turned left off campus and was out cold long before she parked a few scarce minutes later. Yasha hesitated for only a moment, weighing Beau's pride versus her own need to help, before quietly unbuckling her and getting out. She crossed the front of the hood to open the door on Beau's side and shook her shoulder gently.
"Beau, hey. We're here. Can you walk?"
Nothing close to conscious, Beau made a soft, snuffling whine and turned her head away. That was all Yasha needed. "Okay. I've got you."
Yasha had carried Beau a few times - usually from whatever room they were in straight to the bed - but the way Beau didn't even stir when she gathered her gently in her arms or at the slam of the passenger door only further highlighted how very different this circumstance was.
She was so light, curled with her head against Yasha's shoulder and still wrapped in Yasha's coat. She'd stopped shivering, at least, but in the light coming through the window of Yasha's living room the flush to her cheeks was still readily visible. She had to get Beau's obvious fever under control before leaving her for any amount of time, test or no. Yasha propped her carefully on the couch and raced to fill a glass with water before pawing out two Tylenol from her cabinet and approaching again.
She fisted the pills in one hand and stroked a finger along the harsh line of Beau's jaw. "Wake up for me, Beau. Just for a second." Beau roused unwillingly and squinted up at her with a questioning whimper fuzzy with exhaustion. Yasha pressed the two white caplets into Beau's clammy palm and held out the water. "Take these and get some water in you, and then you can go back to sleep, okay?"
Beau blinked at the pills uncomprehendingly. "It's just Tylenol," Yasha assured, but even as she said it she knew that the contents weren't the issue. She nudged Beau's hand up closer to her face and breathed a sigh of relief when the idea clicked in that beautiful, feverish mind. Beau pushed her palm up against her mouth and managed a mouthful of the water with Yasha's careful help before pushing away to curl up tightly.
Yasha glanced at the stove clock and back at Beau, but somewhere in her heart of hearts she knew it didn't matter what time she saw. Beau needed her for one last thing, and then Yasha would go and take the fastest test she'd ever taken in order to rush back and take proper care if she still needed it. It would be better if she returned to find Beau well enough to fight her on things, but part of her hoped for just enough exhaustion to permit her to keep doing this - to take care of Beau the way it was clear nobody else had in a long, long time. She ignored the part of her whispering that if Beau were more coherent, she wouldn't be allowing Yasha to help her either, and knelt.
She loosened the laces of Beau's shoes and pulled them off carefully, then wrapped an arm around her to pull her forward just enough to get the strap of her messenger bag up over her head and set to the side. So much of Yasha wanted to carry Beau to her bed and tuck her in, but she didn't want to push her luck on how much involuntary vulnerability Beau would be willing to forgive her seeing when she was well again.
So Yasha tugged the blanket down from the back of the couch and covered her with it, eased her down so that her head was pillowed on the arm of the couch, and took one last look as she pulled the front door closed behind her.
Beau swam to the murky surface of consciousness an unknown amount of time later to a bright room and a sense of heavy warmth over her shoulders. There was a palpable hush over the air, the breathless light of late afternoon spilling full over the vaguely familiar blanket covering her and warming her to her bones. She blinked fuzzily at the blanket, recognizing the pattern but confused by the context. Possibly she was dreaming again - or still. A blurry glance around revealed most of a glass of water on the table beside her and she was suddenly thirstier than she had ever been.
Her arms felt clumsy and slow and the water sparkled like impossible diamonds in the light, but it was the best thing she'd ever tasted and left her feeling…not more awake, but maybe more alive. The blanket, she recalled, was from the back of Yasha's couch, which she appeared to be lying on. Dim fragments of memory flickered in her mind, vague recollections of being at the library and of seeing Yasha, and…right. The pieces didn't all come together, but she had enough of a presence of mind to know she was in Yasha's apartment, Yasha wasn't here, and she probably wasn't dreaming.
She was very, very annoyed by the orange light pushing through her eyelids, though - and just as determined to go back to sleep as the brightness was determined to stop her. She might be sick, but she was Beauregard fucking Lionett, and she was not done with her godsdamned nap until she said she was.
Her memories after that moment of clarity would be scrambled when she woke again, but she would definitely remember the deep satisfaction spreading through her at the cool scent of Yasha and the dim softness that embraced her and called her back down into deeper sleep.
Yasha's first reaction when she stepped quietly inside the door to find an empty couch was a startlingly powerful sense of rejection, followed by a more practical concern. Beau had left, but where had she gone - and had she arrived safely?
The thought had barely finished forming before Yasha's brain caught up with her eyes and informed her of the shoes neatly set beside the couch where she had left them and the messenger bag slumped gently beside them. She hadn't left - just moved.
Yasha spared a worried peek into the dining room on her way to the hall, images of an overheated Beau seeking relief from a cold floor thankfully superseding any real worry of finding her sprawled with a head injury, but there was no sign of her.
That left the bedroom, and the bedroom was indeed where she found Beau a few seconds later. Yasha's clenched heart released and dissolved into relief as she paused in the doorway of her room and just looked for a long minute at the gift of a sight.
Beau was asleep in the middle of Yasha's bed in a boneless sprawl, looking far more comfortable and restful than when Yasha had left her. Her hair stuck to her face in little damp strands, her breathing slow and deep and her brow smooth. Her lips were parted, and Yasha smiled softly when she caught the faintest glimmer of a little drool leaking from the side onto her pillow.
The covers were pulled up to her shoulders, and Yasha could just see the black collar of the coat Beau was still wearing and the cuff loose on the wrist of the hand lying open and relaxed on the bed in front of her.
At the library, surrounded by the bustle of other students and curled into a miserable ball inside Yasha's coat, Beau's smallness had seemed to create such a vacuum of vulnerability that Yasha couldn't believe everyone had not stopped to take note. She'd been in clear need of help, practically shouting for it in spite of hardly being able to speak at all.
Looking at her now, warm and relaxed and open on her bed, Yasha thought she looked larger than life somehow - as though in allowing herself the luxury of being exactly where Yasha had wanted her most, Beau had somehow rendered the rest of the world washed out and small instead. The smallness of her physical form lost amid the comforter and the sheets did nothing to disavow Yasha of that sense of grandness, and it felt somehow like her heart was straining larger and larger in her chest to match. Every part of Yasha longed to take her phone out and capture this moment, to keep the wonder and the joy of it pressed inside the image of Beau asleep like a flower between the pages of time.
But Beau wasn't hers to keep, and the knowledge that to do so would be akin to theft and almost certainly violate Beau's trust if she were to find out stayed Yasha's hand. She contented herself with stepping softly into the room and easing herself down on the bed's edge as slowly as possible to avoid waking her just yet. Yasha pulled her bag over her head and rummaged inside for the supplies she'd picked up from the university center on the way home. She held her breath as she passed the thermometer over Beau's forehead and exhaled at the number, uncertain what to do with the result.
She pulled her phone out and tapped a quick message to Caduceus, letting him know she'd followed his instructions and the results, and then she gently reached over and smoothed some of Beau's hair away from her face.
Beau woke more readily this time, seeming a little better than she'd been at the library and a relieving distance from the shivering ball of dampness Yasha had carried up the stairs. She was certainly more alert; her eyes roamed the room and Yasha's face before memory clicked and soft confusion became recognition and blind fear.
"Oh gods I'm sorry, I got in your bed and I -"
"Beau." Her raspy voice cut off, and Yasha stilled the hand starting to paw the blanket off of her. "It's okay. I've been inviting you to stay for a while, remember? I meant it." She watched Beau wrestle with herself for a second before the combination of weakness and fever won out and her face went slack.
"Okay."
She coughed a little, a dry and painful-sounding thing that made Yasha's chest ache in sympathy as she remembered the sports drink she'd brought and pulled the top up before offering it to Beau. "This will help."
Beau eyed it warily but took it, glancing back up to Yasha to croak, "You gonna make me soup and all that stuff too?"
Yasha waited until she started to drink. "If that's what Caduceus says is going to help you, then yes. Right now I'm just keeping you hydrated until I know if I'm supposed to get you to the clinic. More," she added when Beau made to push the lid back down.
Her eyebrows raised, but she caved after a brief staring standoff. "Bossing me around is kind of hot," she muttered, once Yasha had accepted the level left over.
It was a transparent attempt to detract from her sense of exposure, and Yasha let her have it. "And these," she said, handing her two more pills.
Beau looked unimpressed. "This is a ploy to get me to drink more."
"Yes. Now do it."
Beau honest to gods stuck her tongue out at that, but she took the pills and swallowed them down with more of the drink before settling in a little more on her back. The silence that stretched between them was weighty but not unpleasant, and Yasha was expecting it when Beau finally asked, "you carry me up here?"
"Yes." Yasha's phone lit up, and she checked it quickly. "But I did try to wake you first."
She steeled herself for Beau's expression to shutter or for a quick and sniping attempt to grasp for balance, but Beau just nodded and stared back up at the ceiling with fever-bright eyes. "Was that Caduceus?"
Her phone, Yasha realized. She'd seen it light up. "It was. He said if the fever gets any higher to take you in, but otherwise it's probably just whatever's been going around."
Beau grunted softly as her eyes drifted shut again - apparently five seconds of recalcitrance was her limit at the moment. Yasha was almost sorry she didn't rise to bite any further.
"Thanks."
The word caught Yasha by surprise, and she was too late to hide it when her eyes flicked to find Beau's watching her. "I just wanted to help."
Beau frowned at her. "That was a real thanks. Why do you sound like you're giving an excuse?"
This was the closest they'd come to any sort of conversation that went below the surface since the night they'd met - which had apparently been a fluke for the both of them - and Yasha hesitated, terrified to scare her off. "In case you needed one?"
Silence, and then an explosive exhale as Beau pushed her head further into the pillow. She coughed, but just the once. "I guess that's fair."
She looked miserable suddenly in a way that had little to do with being sick - the way that Yasha was beginning to understand meant she was feeling inadequate about something. Beau only ever felt inadequate when she cared about something she felt she was bad at, and Yasha had her suspicions but dared to venture anyway. "Do you like being taken care of?"
Beau's jaw set, but not at her. "Shit Yash, I have no fuckin' clue." She swallowed, voice softening. "How would I know?"
This time Yasha was able to keep her features still, but it didn't matter because Beau was looking up again. Still, she made sure to keep anything resembling pity from bleeding into her voice and hoped that didn't include compassion. "It's okay if you do."
"Historically, that's been very fucking untrue."
It had never occurred to Yasha to consider a version of Beau that had once craved, maybe even asked for care, but it made perfect sense that she would have a wealth of attempts gone wrong to back up her distrust of anything and everything nice. Yasha didn't know what to say that couldn't be misconstrued as an attempt to lower Beau's defenses, especially since she very much hoped for that eventual result - but on Beau's time, not hers.
"Can I ask you something?"
Again, Yasha was caught by surprise, and now it was her turn to be wary. "Of course."
The sheets over Beau's chest rose and fell twice, and then she looked directly into Yasha's eyes. "Am I free to go? If I want?"
Something cold settled in the pit of Yasha's stomach, but the answer required no consideration. "If you want to go, I will help make sure you get where you want to be safely." She looked away, down at her phone. "We should…make sure Jester is home first."
She could feel Beau's eyes boring a hole into her, but Yasha was terrified that if she looked up that Beau would see how much she didn't want her to go, how much she selfishly wanted to be the one to take care of her, and think she was lying.
"You'd do that?"
Confusion was a safe feeling, so Yasha looked up and let it show. "What would the alternative be?"
Beau's eyes hardened and she coughed for a second. "You really don't know."
Yasha was starting to feel like she had missed something very important, some piece of information that would snap the undercurrent of this odd conversation into focus. It didn't feel like Beau was talking nonsense. It felt like Yasha had given an answer Beau wasn't certain what to do with, but Yasha was at a genuine loss for was so strange about an obvious response.
"I really don't," she said slowly. "Keeping you against your will? Isn't that like…kidnapping? How would that even work in an apartment complex? People would hear you."
Beau's face did something complicated, and then she laughed. It was a bitter sort of laugh, a ruefulness Yasha had seen enough in her to recognize, but it was also sincere. Laughing made her cough, and she took an unprompted swallow from the sports bottle before speaking again. "Okay."
There was a finality to that one word that only deepened Yasha's sense of floundering, and the smile wasn't helping. "Okay?"
Beau nodded. "You agree not to kidnap me, I'll stick around and you can do your mother hen thing."
All of the tension had left Beau's words, and Yasha was still confused even if she was glad for it. "I don't have a mother hen thing. I am very bad at taking care of people as a rule." She tried not to let anything leak out of her with the last sentence, and added another for padding. "I am barely good at taking care of myself."
She knew it was a lost cause even as she said it. Even sick and feverish, Beau missed nothing. But she didn't comment on the weight in Yasha's words, only shrugged a little. "Just keep doing what you're doing."
"Okay." Yasha looked her over carefully. "Have you...been kidnapped before, Beau?"
She thought Beau might not answer and was drafting a way to backpedal when she spoke. "There's all kinds of ways to get someone where you want them and keep them there. I know you want me with you, but I don't know why." She took a breath. "I gotta stop before I say something now that I'll hate later, but…if I can't get why, I can settle for knowing I can opt out if I can't take it." She closed her eyes. "Should probably tell you while I can, though - it's not your fault I'm so bad at this. Wish I wasn't, sometimes."
Now. She wished she was good at letting someone take care of her now, because the someone was Yasha. Awe rippled over her as she watched Beau breathe for a long second, and then Yasha spoke almost to herself. "Just keep doing what you're doing."
Beau's smile was genuine even as another involuntary shiver ran through her. "I'm sweating through both of our clothes right now and I don't think I get a say in stopping, so you got it."
"Oh." Yasha set her things on the floor by the bed and got up. "Well in that case, give me those clothes so I can throw them in the wash for when you're better, and you can sweat through some of mine."
Beau groaned, but Yasha caught the exaggerated emphasis of it and didn't fall for it. She opened one eye. "It's embarrassing how much you want me out of my clothes."
Yasha withdrew a pair of soft shorts and her singular tank top from the drawer and set them on the bed near Beau's feet. "I'll survive the indignity. Now come on." She got an arm under Beau and nearly startled at the dampness she could feel soaking through her light jacket and onto the sheets below. "You're really having a rough time of this, aren't you?"
Beau grunted something of a reply, slumped with her head against Yasha's stomach and disinclined to do much besides bend her arms to help Yasha get the coat off, then the shirt. "Take it too," she mumbled when Yasha hesitated at her bra. Her words were starting to slur again, and Yasha had to help her move her arms to get the sweat-darkened straps off her shoulders.
"Underwear?"
"Probably wet for a couple reasons, definitely take them."
Yasha huffed in exaggerated exasperation. "One track mind with you."
She pushed the fresh tank top down over Beau's head, and when her face re-emerged it was with a grin she probably thought looked charming. "Sometimes I think about other stuff."
Yasha didn't miss the soft grunt of satisfaction when she lowered Beau back against the mattress. "Like sleep?" She supported the back of Beau's sweaty neck for a moment longer and hastily flipped over the damp pillow before letting go.
Beau settled gratefully down with a loopy little smile. "Like sleep."
By the time Yasha got Beau's pants off, she was too far gone to even try to assist her with getting the shorts on. Luckily Yasha didn't need the help, lifting her easily to tug them up over her hips and pulling the sheets back up to her shoulders when she was again resting comfortably.
Beau twitched down a little further in the blankets and sighed, a defenseless and unsharp thing that made her seem so much younger with her flyaway hair and shiny face.
"Yash?"
She paused. Beau had so far seemed present, if a little uninhibited, but the hazy lack of awareness Yasha had been expecting was here now. Whatever was coming next, it was probably nothing Beau would otherwise ask. She resolved to dodge it if it were a question and never bring it up if it wasn't, and then she used Beau's tank to dab a little of the sweat from her brow.
"I'm here."
But Beau didn't say anything further, and Yasha heard her breathing shift into something deeper and steadier. Beau was asleep, and she didn't stir when Yasha moved the pile of their damp clothes to one arm and stroked her cheek lightly with the back of a finger.
In a way, she supposed, this was its own question and answer in one. Just keep doing what you're doing.
Yasha leaned forward and pressed the lightest of kisses to Beau's forehead, and then she picked up her phone and scrolled to Jester's texts as she quietly left the room.
Hey it's Yasha. Beau is sick and staying at my place so don't look for her tonight.
In typical Jester fashion, Yasha's phone lit up almost immediately in response, four messages one after the other.
I've been texting her all day!
I think her phone is dead.
Take care of her and tell her to text me.
And thank you!
Yasha thought for a moment as she dumped Beau's clothes into the wash, taking care to keep her own jacket out to rifle through first. No sense washing her chapstick again.
She stared at the black response bar and pictured Beau, tucked up in her bed and choosing, however much the fever factored in, to trust Yasha to take care of her.
No problem, she texted back. It's my pleasure.