Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beau stood with her feet in the tide, the slowly chilling waters of the Lucidian Sea lapping over her bruised and scarred feet. Somewhere down the beach, Nott and Yezza chased Nugget while little Luc laughed joyously, clutching Nott’s unloaded crossbow.
Beau wasn’t watching that though. Her focus was on a flurry of motion moving around on the sand, her eyes were on a spinning top of purple and blue. Jester had just dropped her disguise as a bland version of herself and her spinning left Beau dizzy in at least two ways.
Jester stopped her spinning and collapsed in a heap behind Beau on the dry sand.
“I think spinning may have been a bad idea after pastries.” Jester groaned.
“Uh, you think?” Beau’s reply came out more forcefully than she intended, but wasn’t that always her way?
Jester focused her keen eyes on Beau, and Beau flinched reflexively.
“You know, red looks really nice on you, Beau, but I like blue more.”
So do I, thought Beau. Beau took a few steps out of the wet sand and crouched beside Jester, taking care not to sully Jester’s dress, old habits of her childhood full of being told to mind her clothes rising to the surface.
Beau anchored herself in a perfect balance of crouching only to be tugged down by insistent strong hands.
“Whoa—whoa, Jester, your dress!” Beau landed on her bottom, kicking up sand onto the both of them.
“You don’t have to worry, Beau, it’s just a dress. Besides, I can’t wear it anymore.” Beau inspected the dress again and pointedly ignored the blue-freckled knees bouncing beside her.
“Beauuu,” she drew out the letters of her name and tugged on her arm.
“Ouch— what?” Beau complained, but that was the lie. Jester’s hand remained on her arm, pulling Beau closer before pointing a finger toward the slow descent of the sunset.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Beau? The colors are like sherbet.” Jester sighed contentedly, eyes trained on the sky.
The slow descent of the sun cast shadows across the sands, and those freckled knees grew dusky blue and the urge to lay in the softness of Jester’s lap grew within Beau as fast as it was stifled.
Beau knew full well that Jester would never recoil from her, the two of them often slept tangled together at night, Whether in Caleb’s bubble or at some Inn in some town, Beau found herself purposefully stalling in nighttime rituals to find a spot nearest Jester. Jester was an active sleeper, and Beau slept lightly. Under most circumstances (and at first) this would be seen as annoying, but Beau savored those moments where Jester reached for her in the night, and Beau would remain still, hating herself for enjoying something she wasn’t deserving of.
Still keeping her eyes trained on the sunset, Jester leaned against Beau, snaking an arm around Beau’s arm and careful not to poke Beau with her horns, laid her head against Beau’s shoulder.
Reflexively, Beau drew herself up to pull away a bit.
“Beauuu, stop.” Jester gives her a tug and pulls her back, and just as Beau gives in to lay against her, Jester aims a well-pointed poke to Beau’s side.
“Ahh-argh! You don’t want to start this Jes.” Jester is much stronger than Beau, but less quick. Beau strikes out with a retaliation, two fingers aimed perfectly at Jester’s ribs.
The game dissolves into wrestling quickly, with shrieks of joy filling the air.
Jester may be stronger, but she’s untrained and Beau relishes her swift takedown, her hands gripped on Jester’s wrists while they both breathe hard looking at each other.
Jester is still laughing, but Beau’s breath hitches as she stares down at Jester.
It’s not so much the pure, open, smile that gets her, or the beating of Beau’s heart... it’s the realization that Jester also stopped laughing, seeing the harmless fun has become weighted with a moment in the balance.
To move is to decide the moment’s outcome, good or bad. To move is to know, and for Beau, it’s a risk that she’s not ready for.
“Beau?” Jester asks softly. Beau struggles to come back into herself, barely getting out a weak “hmm?”
“I think you win.” Jester’s broad smile returns, the moment returning to the original lighthearted mood.
“You weren’t going easy on me?” The easy ribbing comes back and it’s a relief.
“I may be stronger but you’re trained, there’s no comparison.”
Beau lets an indelicate sound out, though there are very delicate sounds in Beau to begin with. “You just need training, you’d be a beast with your build.”
“I know a monk who could probably teach me,” Jester tilts her head down and quirks her eyebrow at Beau.
Two very different emotions overcome Beau at once; one being her immediate pleasure at having yet another chance to be close to Jester, and the second thought, her self loathing side fighting to respond with something snide or rude enough to deter Jester. It was the default defense. Give no kindness and people learn to stop expecting it.
Beau answered before she fully formed the second thought.
“If you’re up tomorrow by 5, we can, uh, spar out here in the sand. Sand is what I trained on because it’s less hard on you when you fall.”
“I don’t plan on falling, Beau.” I wish I could say the same, Beau thought.

The next morning Beau roused herself around five, long before the sun would rise and turned in bed to look at Jester, in the moments before Beau would have to wake her.
Jester wasn’t a typically cute sleeper, her mouth open and little snores escaped as she dreamed about whatever or whoever a girl a soft as Jester would be dreaming of, but she was unbearably cute to Beau. Beau had found herself in many casual relationships, one serious, but what she felt for Jester was beginning to create something new altogether. This was serious, wasn’t it?

Chapter Text

The next morning Beau roused herself around five, long before the sun would rise and turned in bed to look at Jester, in the moments before Beau would have to wake her.
Jester wouldn’t be considered the stereotypical cute sleeper, her mouth open and little snores escaped as she dreamed about whatever or whoever a girl a soft as Jester would be dreaming of, but she was unbearably cute to Beau. Beau had found herself in many casual relationships, one serious, but what she felt for Jester was beginning to create something new altogether.
Dammit, Beau cursed inwardly. There was no time and no place to entertain these thoughts. Lately things have been one close call after another, with Jester and Caduceus throwing healing spells at Beau. What if she got distracted? She could count on Caduceus to help Jester, but that didn’t mean it was not distracting to hear Jester’s shouts of pain as they all moved together to fight on.
Beau would just have to rely on the skill she’d sharpened the best; lying to herself and deflection. It’s worked before and it’ll have to do for now.
Standing up to stretch, Beau reached for her cloak and sash, she tied up her hair and placed her goggles on her face. Glancing around the room, pieces of Jester marked every surface; a dick was carved into a post of her bed frame, a plate with frosting sat by her nightstand and a paintbrush had rolled under a desk by the window, and upon that desk lay many papers.
Beau clasped her own hands that had riffled through many desks, but this desk was not to be touched. The top picture, however, must of been something she doodled last night. It wasn’t unusual for Jester to stay awake a bit after everyone else. Beau had caught her in previous nights of their travel chatting happily out loud to the Traveler while furiously drawing in her notebook.
Beau crept closer to the picture, lifting her goggles to let moonlight light the picture. Glancing over her shoulder, Jester still slept, so Beau pulled the picture closer to look at it.
It was a hard thing to look at; it was arguably one of the nicest pictures of Beau that she’d ever seen, because no part of it lied about who Beau was.
Beau’s face was trained on a spot past the viewers perspective, a sardonic smile cast upon her lips and that awful red dress was caught up in the breeze, leaving Beau’s long legs almost entirely on display. Behind Beau, the skies were lit with the orange hue of a sherbet sky.
Beau had seen portraits of herself before, ones her father commissioned and then gave direction to. Beau was cast as a proper young lady upon oils, her smile bland and her eyes blank, but Jester wouldn’t recognize that face, she’d spent too much time with whoever Beau had become. Instead, Jester painted Beau just as Beau was, sharp, waspish, her eyes glittering with an untold thought.
Jester truly saw Beau, and the sudden urge to leave filled Beau with panic.
Beau set the picture back on the desk, covering a humorous picture of Fjord and Nott arguing, but both were drawn as fat, round heads, sans body.
Beau turned back to Jester’s bed, but instead of a sleeping Jester, two purple eyes peeking out from the blanket.
“Mmmph,” Jester mumbled from under the covers, “how early is it?”
Beau put distance between her and the drawing desk, feeling guilty.
“Roughly five? I’m not sure. Bet Caleb could tell us.”
From beneath her mound of blankets Jester leaned into a Zemnian accent. “Eet ees precisely 5 minutes past five..” Beau grimaced, while both herself and Caleb were no gems in the field of accents, Jester’s attempt was a weak attempt but still somehow better. Beau laughed softly and sat on the floor to stretch.
“Show me what you’re doing Beau! I should loosen up, too!” Jester’s morning attitude was much like her all day attitude: perky. Beau blinked against the enthusiasm and watched Jester crawl out of bed in a white frilly camisole and pant pajama set, a stark contrast to her very toned physique.
Jester sat aside Beau, legs stretched out to match Beau. The slight sound of seams popping followed.
“Ugh, Beau, I can’t wear these. Do you have your old blue pants? We can share again.”
“You know, those might be in your haversack. I haven’t seen them in bit.”
Jester sprung to her feet and began rummaging through the bag she’d tossed on a dresser the night before. She pulled out the pants at last, and while they were small, they were also very stretchy.
Without much of a warning, Jester pulled her pajama bottoms down and Beau looked away immediately, giving Jester a minute.
After Jester’s movement stopped, Beau looked back up at Jester tucking her white camisole into Beau’s pants and Beau felt that same sort of dissonance as she did buttoning up the red dress yesterday. But it was Jester, and Beau ought to gather herself before she really was in for it. The more Beau thought of Jester, the harder it was getting to play off her feelings, Beau would have to act as if everything was fine, stifle those traitorous thoughts and keep moving.

Chapter Text

There were few people awake at the Lavish Chateau, so Jester and Beau crept out unnoticed besides a sleepy wave from Caduceus who was also waking up for his morning commune with the Wildmother.
The path to the beach wasn’t very long and Jester proffered a flaky pastry to share with Beau as they walked. Fish mongers set up stands and even at this hour, foot traffic was busier than Beau expected.
When they got to the beach it was still empty around the stretch of sand Jester had led them toward, for which Beau was thankful.
Beau shoved her staff upright into the sand turned toward Jester.
“I know you can scrap a bit, but technique and movement make all the difference. Fighting shouldn’t be stagnant, you can circle your opponent, which gives you advantage in being a harder target, but if you’re facing multiple people, you still run the risk of eventually turning your back to someone. Okay, let’s get moving.”
Beau drew a wide circle in the sand with her staff before shoving it in the ground again and stood inside, letting Jester position herself opposite Beau.
“Okay, now tuck your chin in a bit, wait, no, now you’ve got a creepy look like you’re gonna maul me like an animal.” Jester laughed and snarled, “this is my intimidation tactic!” Beau laughed in response and Jester eased her position more.
Beau gave more simple directions like keeping herself fluid and in motion and protecting her chin with her fists before moving on.
“Okay, your hands are up, your thumb is not in your fist. Now, come at me.”
Jester continued her bouncy walk toward Beau, and while she was technically “bobbing and weaving” it was also a bit distracting, adding to an advantage Jester likely didn’t know she had.
Jester came in fast with a right hook toward Beau, an easy beginner move albeit the same move that had laid out plenty an asshole when Beau fought.
Beau moved just out of the way and laughed. “Again!” So began a bout of the two of them moving in the circle. Beau had dodged nearly every single throw until Jester gleefully goaded Beau with a colorful swear that surprised a laugh out of her.
Beau had been hit by more creatures, and people than she could count, and Jester has thrown a good amount of her weight into it, just as Beau advised. When Beau realized she’d accidentally dropped her guard, she was already seeing stars.
“Beau!” Jester stopped laughing and her hands were already softly aglow with pink light as she strode over.
Beau held her hands up in a motion to block Jester’s healing. “Keep going Lavorre! My turn. Protect your chin!”
Jester straightened and did as she was told but her panic from the great punch was gone and she focused herself.
“Next lesson is your forte. Use surprise, but more importantly, use your feet.”
Beau closed the space between them toward Jester, getting low and shot a leg out, curling her foot under Jester’s leg, kicking her down on the sand.
Jester’s breath came out in a rush and she landed hard in the sand. Before Jester could scramble up, Beau swung a leg over Jester’s waist and gripped her wrists, pushing them into the sand.
Underneath Beau, Jester’s breathing was labored and she struggled for a moment before conceding.
Beau had stopped functioning. While in the position, a drop of blood fell on Jester’s cheek, just by her mouth.
The sudden change of mood gave both of them pause, “oh god I’m sorry—“ cut off immediately by Jester’s “it’s okay! It’s just you!”
Beau released Jester’s hands and Jester swiped where she thought the blood was, leaving a smear.
As if possessed, Beau’s hand reached out to Jester’s face, and in the corner of Jester’s mouth Beau drew a slow line away from her lips and cleaned the blood. Jester never looked away.
The two girls froze, Beau’s hand still on her neck, thumb on her cheek. Underneath Beau’s fingers she could feel a quickening pulse, and they met eyes in the rising sunlight peeking from above Nicodranas.
A loud bark broke the spell and down the beach Nugget ran with wild abandon toward them, occasionally disappearing and reappearing some odd feet closer. Beau used this distraction to pull herself to her feet and offer Jester a hand, the vibe between them returning to something more familiar.