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“Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise?”
The bead of sweat rolling down the nape of Beau’s bare neck from the late-summer heat went as cold as the lemon gelato she was sharing with Yasha when Obann’s familiar— and very unwelcome —voice spoke up from behind her.
“Beau,” there was a familiar fear in Yasha’s voice. “Don’t.”
She felt Yasha’s grip on her hand tighten, silently begging Beau not to do the very thing every cell in her body was screaming at her to do.
Breathe in calm. Still your mind.
It had only been a few weeks since Obann and his crew left Yasha for dead in the parking lot of Dairon’s garage after she’d told him she was leaving the Angel of Irons. Beau frantically called Caduceus from the phone in the office before she used the well-stocked first-aid kit Dairon kept on hand to staunch the bleeding from what seemed to be a knife wound or two. Caduceus arrived in his little beat-up yellow beetle minutes later with a worried Fjord in the passenger seat. The half-orc fussed over Beau to keep her distracted while Caduceus worked his healing magic and though the night ended very well there was part of her that longed to hear the sound of that demon’s stupid nose breaking under her fists...
Obann took Beau’s lack of initial reaction as an invitation to approach, his heavy booted footfalls echoing like thunder around Beau as she tried to calm the maelstrom beating against the fraying edges of her control.
“I do like the new ink, angel,” his voice was dripping with false kindness— a front for the few members of the public scattered around the park.
“But,” Obann’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper and Beau’s body tensed like a bowstring being pulled tighter and tighter, “no matter how much you cover try to cover that brand on the back of your neck, Orphanmaker, you still belong to me.”
Breathe out anger, rash decisions, and-
Nah, fuck this.
“What is it with people needing to own other people,” Beau stood from the picnic bench they’d been seated on and whirled around angrily to face Obann. “You don’t own her, and I’m getting really tired of all of this ‘Angel of Irons’ bullshit.”
“Beau-”
“No,” Beau held a hand up in Yasha’s direction. “I am so tired of hearing everyone whisper your name in fear as if you’re listening from the shadows.”
The late afternoon sun glinted off the rings decorating Obann’s knuckles as his fist swung towards Beau’s face. Much to her own surprise, she stepped back and The world around her slowed, the ambient noise of the picturesque park around them growing quieter until all she could hear was the steady beat of her heart. Beau was tired of being scared and tired of suppressing the anger she felt boiling in her blood.
If only Dairon could see Beau putting all the skills she’d learned to use; though, on second thought, it was a good idea her mentor wasn’t there watching her go hand-to-hand with a person as dangerous as Obann.
Though, Dairon would also tell Beau to get out of her head and pay attention to the threat in front of her; she was so focused on the taste of pent-up rage turning the sweet lemon gelato sour on her lips that she nearly missed his next hit— nearly.
Luckily, Beau’s body reacted before she did. Her feet shifted and she positioned herself to better absorb the energy of Obann’s arm. Beau trapped it against her body and twisted his wrist viciously until a small dagger fell from his hand. The metallic clanging sound it made against the concrete rang like an echoing bell in the silence of Beau’s mind; she hadn’t even noticed the narrow, wavy blade in his grasp until it hit the ground.
Once Dairon had told Beau to let her body move instinctively in fights, as she was prone to overanalyzing her next steps in the heat of the moment. Thank the gods she’d actually listened to her body for once and let it move without second-doubting the tugging sensation in her gut.
Beau released Obann’s arm and stepped into his space— close enough to smell his cologne —and drove her fist forward, carrying her weight with it as it struck his solar plexus and rendered his diaphragm temporarily useless. She followed through with a right hook to a pressure point on his temple that sent him to his knees— a trick she’d learned recently in her lessons with Dairon.
She couldn’t see his cronies— the ridiculously yet aptly named Inevitable End and the nightmarish Laughing Hand —anywhere nearby, but that didn’t stop her shoulders from raising defensively, fists still held loosely in a ready position as the sound of her heart pounding in her chest grew louder.
“Beau—”
The familiar weight of Yasha’s hand coming to rest on Beau’s shoulder shattered the dark shroud of singular focus around the smaller woman and she turned slowly until their eyes met.
“—we should go.”
One look around the park showed there were already a few heads turned curiously in their direction and Obann was beginning to stir. She nodded in agreement before grabbing her canvas backpack, Yasha’s waiting hand, and headed quickly towards the parking lot where Yasha’s motorcycle awaited them.
---
Yasha didn’t stop the bike until she was back on the gravel drive that led up to the little cottage Beau lived in on the Lionett property.
After the engine quieted between their legs Yasha dismounted the bike and threw Beau over her shoulder, shushing her before she even opened her mouth to protest. A familiar rage had burned in Yasha’s veins the entire ride home, and now it colored the edges of her vision red as she opened the front door to Beau’s place and set her girlfriend down the entry hallway.
“Don’t…” Yasha murmured when she saw Beau open her mouth to make some kind of remark. Her hands shook slightly as she turned Beau this way and that to check and double-check her for any injuries, still avoiding making direct eye contact until she was sure Beau wasn’t hurt.
“Are you okay?”
Beau finally broke the silence and reached up to rest her palm against Yasha’s cheek, her thumb brushing soothingly across the faint sprinkle of freckles she’d acquired from spending more time in the sun. The white-haired woman exhaled slowly through her nose and leaned into Beau’s touch as her eyes slid hesitantly back to her face.
“I’m okay,” Yasha wet her lips and took another deep breath, looking much more centered after her next steady exhale. “I’m very glad you’re okay.”
“I guess all the hours I’ve spent with Dairon finally paid off,” Beau chuckled tensely.
Yasha didn’t laugh.
“Beau, you put yourself in danger today—”
“Alright, alright...I may have over-reacted just a little bit.”
“—which Dairon explicitly told you not to do.”
The aasimar’s face softened slightly when Beau finally dropped the act and let her shoulders fall slack, her head nodding diminutively in agreement as Yasha bent forward and brushed kisses along the strong lines of her nose, cheekbones, and jaw.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” the human huffed a small sigh before quirking her lips into a wry grin. “Did I look cool though? Was it hot?”
Yasha groaned in exasperation, turning her face to the sky as if to ask Kord why he’d send such a woman to test her patience.
“Yes, you looked cool,” she deadpanned before throwing her hand to her forehead dramatically. “So brave and quick to defend me.”
“Well, do I get a reward for my bravery?”
“Of course,” Yasha captured Beau’s lips in a gentle kiss, savoring the lovestruck grin that spread across her girlfriend’s face as their bodies gravitated closer and closer together until they fit together like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces.
While Beau was distracted by the kiss Yasha hooked her hands around the backs of her thighs and hoisted her easily off the ground. Beau squeaked in surprise and reflexively wrapped her legs around the mechanic’s waist to further secure herself as Yasha walked deeper into the cottage.
“Oh, by the way, Caleb helped me find that film you were talking about— the one in Celestial?” Beau murmured against Yasha’s lips, “Do you want to stay and watch it?”
The aasimar chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of Beau’s head, “I’ll always want to stay.” Beau’s cheeks flushed a warm, ruddy shade as Yasha set her down. “Go get that projector or yours set up, love. I’ll make popcorn since we were— as you said —cheated out of our gelato date.”
Beau rose onto her tiptoes to press a final lingering kiss to Yasha’s lips before she wandered off to set up the film projector. What started as a tinkering project for Beau quickly became a full blown restoration with the help of Veth and Caleb. It involved many nights huddled around the kitchen table with wires, books, and metal bits scattered all across the tabletop while the rest of their friends putzed around the cottage and made food.
The series of steps Beau needed to follow to properly load the film into the projector quickly became a favorite ritual of hers and was a great way to step away from the noise of whatever else was going on around her. There was a clear starting pointing with a well-defined goal at the end— just what she needed.
By now the movements were muscle memory to Beau so she allowed herself to glance over to the kitchen every now and again, smiling upon seeing Yasha navigate the kitchen with the confidence of someone who had been there enough to know where everything was.
“Hey, Yash?” Beau watched Yasha look up from the stovetop, her smile lopsided and mismatched eyes soft with adoration.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Yasha’s smile widened, “I love you too.”
Beau turned back to her projector and grinned mischievously as she began loading the film into the projector, “Oh, and if you burn the popcorn this time, I’ll kick your ass harder than I kicked Obann’s.”
Her girlfriend scoffed from the kitchen, “It was one time!”