#emily arlen

[zepskies]

A Good Man Is Hard to Find

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: When Beau starts pulling away from you and Emily during a very difficult case, will the pressure make or break your relationship?

AN: This is a sequel story to the Take Me Home storyverse, set just a few months after Part 9!

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, a Law & Order: SVU-esque case, angst, perilous situations and violence, hurt/comfort and fluff.

Catch up on TMH: ⤵️

❤️ Take Me Home Masterlist

You took pleasure in the sounds you were pulling out of this man.

You continued to kiss down his neck. Each of your movements was slow and purposeful.

Your hips rolled against his, brushing your clothed, aching core against his risen length. His hands were like steel bands on your hips, not letting you leave even if you wanted to. He groaned.

“I needa get ready for work,” Beau chuckled. And he pointed out, “So do you.”

You smiled against his skin, and you gently dragged his flesh between your teeth.

“It’s still early,” you argued in his ear. You teased the shell of it with your tongue, making him shudder and rock his clothed hard-on between your legs. The wet tip of his cock dampened your panties further.

His hands moved down your thighs, caressing, squeezing, getting a handful of your ass in the process. Just as his fingers dipped under the satin hem of your panties, his phone buzzed on one of the nightstands. Beau let out a sigh of disappointment and reached over blindly for it.

He saw the caller ID and took in a breath to get himself together first. Even though he didn’t quite succeed, he answered the call.

“Mornin’, Jenny,” he greeted. You grinned.

“Tell her I said hi,” you whispered.

Beau shot you a “stern” look, though his lips curved at a smile. He mouthed at you to behave. 

You gave him a look that was cheeky at best.

“We caught a new case. If you want, you can meet us at the scene instead of the precinct,” said Jenny.

“Okay, where to?” Beau asked.

While Jenny gave him the directions, you used his distraction to your advantage. You shimmied out of your underwear and the overly large shirt you’d stolen from him last night. Then you drew down the waistband of his underwear and freed his cock into your hands.

“Okay, sounds g—” Beau was forced to pause on a sharp inhale.

“You okay?” Jenny asked.

“Y-Yeah. Just fine. Had a tickle in my throat,” Beau said.

"Okay, well just so you know," Jenny said, continuing to give him tidbits of information that he really should've been paying attention to.

He cleared his throat, shooting you an incredulous look. You didn’t pay him much mind as you began to touch him with care, from the weeping tip and along the shaft down to the base, even caressing his balls.

Beau’s furrowed gaze held yours as his breath faltered again. Your deft hands lined up his cock to your entrance. You teased yourself on the sensitive head of it, brushing it through your wet folds and against your clit. You had to bite your lip against a moan, but you didn’t quite manage to stifle the sound.

“Okay, Jenny. Thanks, I’ll see you there in a bit,” he said in a rush.

He hung up as soon as he could, but all the while, you were unrelenting. You finally sunk fully down on his cock, taking him all the way inside your wet heat.

Beau let out a strained groan and grabbed your arms. He sat up and pressed his forehead to yours. His lips formed a chiding smile.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said. His voice was a bit rough, sending a shiver down your spine.  

“You want me to be nice?” you teased, beginning to let the full length of him slide out of you. You welcomed him back inside with a rock of your hips. “I just need a moment of your time, Sheriff.”

He nodded breathlessly. “Think I can manage that.”

You smirked and held onto the back of his neck as you rode him. You had a feeling you would find fingerprint bruises on your hips and thighs tomorrow, but this was worth it.

It took a lot to see Beau lose control, even in the bedroom. Now, he had a hand tangled in your hair and his lips fastened to your throat. He helped you move on him with a guiding hand on your hip. You slipped a hand from his shoulder and further parted your folds to find your clit.

But as Beau so often did, he moved your hand away so he could usher in your pleasure himself. He massaged your clit until your inner walls became almost too tight for him to drive up into you. Your thighs shook around his hips, and he managed to hold off on his own release until you came, hard on his cock.

You cried out near his ear and held onto his shoulders. He supported your collapse against his chest, but he still grabbed your hip tighter and rutted into you a few more times, until he was able to spill into you and fill you up to the brim with his warmth. You clenched on him on purpose, milking him for all he was worth.

Fuuuckin’ hell, he thought with a grunt, and he panted against your shoulder. He laid a belated kiss there.

“What a way to greet the sun,” he remarked.

You laughed breathily, caressing his cheek.

Beau was, inevitably, running late for work. He found that he was okay with that as he kissed you goodbye.

You were still in your robe and holding a mug of coffee. You didn’t need to be at work for another couple of hours. Your Tuesday classes didn’t start until 10:00 a.m.

“Have a good day, baby. I…” you trailed.

Certain words were poised on your tongue. Words that neither of you had said to one another just yet. Your heart started tripping up a bit as you realized it. 

Even though you’d known the truth of what you felt for him for a while now, you’d been very careful to let him say it first. You told yourself you didn’t want to pressure him, in light of his contentious divorce and how new this all still was between you and Beau…

But more often, you wondered if you were maybe projecting, considering your own rocky past. Maybe it was just self-preservation.

“Yeah?” Beau questioned. You waved him off with a nervous chuckle. 

“Nothing. I don’t know,” you said. “My coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.”

He just smiled and gave you one last kiss to the side of your head before he left your apartment.

Beau arrived at the scene of the crime: the parking lot of a movie theater. Jenny and Poppernak were already there inside the perimeter of yellow caution tape while the Forensics team did their thing. Jenny checked her watch when she saw the sheriff.

“What took you so long?” she asked. 

“Traffic,” Beau lied, his face warming. “What’ve we got?”

He quickly shifted his attention to the pool of blood staining the ground between his deputies. The path of his gaze led to the victim: a young woman wearing a blouse, skirt, and heels. The skirt was torn up to the hip. Her neck was cut, deep but clean.  

There were other signs of struggle; road burns on her right thigh, like she had been dragged. Jenny even found a can of pepper spray rolled under the victim’s car. 

“Maybe he was trying to get her to his car. She fought back hard enough that he cut his losses,” she theorized. 

Beau blew out a sigh and nodded grimly.

“Okay. Let’s get started.”

Two months gave the Lewis and Clark Sheriff’s Department two more murders. Both were women, presumably alone and late at night, and in the dimly lit, poorly secured parking lot of an establishment. 

Stressed didn’t begin to cover how Beau Arlen walked back into the precinct two hours before he truly had to. What little forensics they’d been able to uncover from each scene (and on the victims) let them to conclude that the suspect was male, and likely between 5’10” and over 6 feet tall.

As they now had a murder cluster, Beau and his team determined that the victims were found within a 5-mile radius. Both Emily’s school and the college where you taught were within that range.   

It had led Beau to long nights spent at the precinct and in town, researching, canvasing, working with his team to lock down possible leads. 

But those two months had also led him to cancel dates with you and plans with his daughter. He hadn’t stayed over your apartment in weeks. You’d spoken to Emily, and she told you he was often late in picking her up from school on his custody days with her. When she was with him, he always seemed distant, distracted.

It was all too familiar, Emily told you, and she hated it. 

You were worried and becoming increasingly frustrated. Any calls you made to him to check in were a few minutes at most, before he left you hanging to go back to work.

Beau had told you this was a difficult string of homicide cases, and very little else. You knew that he shouldn’t and couldn’t tell you too many details about the case, but you also couldn’t help but feel that he was pulling away from you…and leaving you in the dark. 

You’d just gotten home after a longer day than usual at work. Frankly, you were exhausted. All you wanted to do was shower and find whatever you could in your fridge to have for dinner. You didn’t care what it was at this point.

Before you could go rummaging, however, your phone started to ring. You sighed and went back to the purse you dumped on the kitchen table, and you saw that the call was from Carla. Your brows knitted in confusion. She’d been on a business trip in California for one of her higher-profile trial cases.

Carla was polite on the phone, but sounded a bit stressed.

“Emily just called to tell me that Beau hasn’t come by to pick her up from school. She’s been there for two hours,” Carla said.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? That’s not like him.” 

“I know, but he’s not picking up his phone. Is he with you?” she asked. 

“No, I just got home. He has to be still at work,” you said. You restrained a sigh as you grabbed your purse back up. “I can pick Emily up.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, in a relieved tone that suggested that was what she’d wanted all along, but she still wanted to be polite about it. 

“Yes, I’ll get her. Don’t worry,” you said. “And I’ll talk to Beau about this.”

“Good,” Carla said. “I appreciate that.”

After getting off the phone with Carla, you texted Emily and let her know you were coming to pick her up. She texted back:

Are you sure? I can just take an Uber to your place or something.

You replied:

No, honey. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in 15 - 20 minutes.

You didn’t manage to get ahold of Beau until you’d already picked Emily up from school. You braved through thirty minutes of traffic to get home again, and you stopped to grab dinner on the way.

Beau didn’t get to your apartment until later that night. You and Emily had a nice dinner of Tex-Mex takeout (though she’d said it was definitely better in Houston). He looked tired and apologetic as he went to hug his daughter first. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said. ���I just got held up at work.”

Emily nodded and tried to smile at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“It’s fine, I get it,” she said. 

Beau knew his daughter well enough to see the truth. He sighed, but he went over to you in the kitchen next. You were putting away the leftovers. He laid a hand on your back and tried to kiss you in greeting, but you only gave him your cheek. 

You didn’t meet his eyes when you slid over the plate you’d set aside for him: a massive carne asada burrito with all the sauces, just like he liked it. 

Beau felt like an ass. 

You left him to heat up his food and went to Emily, who was helping to clear the kitchen table. 

“Do you need help with your homework?” you asked her. “I know you said you did some at school while you were waiting.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty much done. I’ve got it.”

You smiled at her. “Okay, good job.”

The next item on your mental list was grabbing the bedsheets out of the dryer, to set up the pull-out bed from the couch later for Emily to sleep.

Beau watched you putter around the apartment while Emily settled in front of the TV with the remainder of her homework. He felt like an outsider with his own girlfriend and daughter…and there was an eerily familiar feeling churning in his gut. 

Later that night, you were reading in bed. Beau stepped out of the bathroom after a shower, with the towel wrapped around his hips, his chest and arms all dewy. You had to force yourself not to take notice.

You’d been missing him—practically aching for him for weeks, for two months. You were also upset with him though, and for more than one reason.

After he got dressed for bed in a long-sleeved shirt and some sweatpants, Beau once again noticed that deceptively calm look on your face. He knew that face, just as he sensed the tension in the air.

He sighed and came to sit on the edge of his side of the bed. Or at least, the side he’d claimed ever since he started sleeping over regularly here. Somehow, his own trailer had become a bit stale and lonesome, unless Emily was staying over. 

Beau watched your profile and saw the way you were trying your best to ignore him. 

“I get the feeling you’re mad,” Beau said, breaking the silence. “Sorry about today. I know Carla called you…I just got caught up with something at work.”

“Carla was right to call me,” you replied, though your eyes didn’t leave the page that you weren’t reading. Beau’s lips pursed. 

“Darlin’, would you look at me, please?” he asked.

You dropped your book into your lap, and you met his gaze. 

“All right, tell me. Why’re you mad?” he asked. 

You raised your brows with a tense frown.

“I’m upset with you. Because this is the first night you’ve spent here in over a month. And it’s not because you wanted to.” 

You shoved the blankets off your body and slipped out of the bed. Beau’s shoulders sunk a bit. 

“Come on, honey. You know that’s not—” he tried, but you weren’t done. 

No, you were very far from done.

“I’m upset with you, because every time I try to extend an olive branch and make plans with you, you reschedule at the last minute,” you snapped. “I’m upset with you because what few and far between conversations we do have? They consist of me trying to figure out what’s happening with you, trying to share with you about what’s going on with me—and you’re either half-listening, or you’re running off before the five-minute mark.”

Again, Beau opened his mouth to argue as his brows furrowed, but you beat him to it.

“And not to mention, you forgot your daughter,” you said. “You’ve been forgetting her, and you’ve been shutting me out.”

Beau stood along with you, his whole body tense with frustration. 

“Look, it’s not like I’m out there cheating on you! I’m doing my damn job!” he said. 

His words hit you like a physical blow. Your mouth fell open in soft shock. Tears even stung in your eyes.

“Reminding me of Michael,” you nodded in understanding. “Okay. Wouldn’t be the first time this month.”

Beau bristled; he didn’t think it was right for you to compare him to your bastard ex-boyfriend.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he said.

"This isn't fair," you retorted, gesturing between you both with a pointed finger.

Beau's lips pursed. His jaw clenched as he averted his gaze, so he could better hold his tongue before he said something he might regret.

Too late...

Eventually, you stopped waiting for him to answer you.

Beau saw how you withdrew, both from the argument, and from him with a sigh. You crossed your arms and held yourself when you headed into the bathroom.

He internally deflated. Shit. 

Something told him that if Emily wasn’t occupying the only other sleeping place in this apartment, he’d have been booted out of your room.

Things were tense the next morning. 

Beau agreed to take Emily to school, since you picked her up yesterday. You gave Emily a hug before they left, and you had even packed her a good lunch for school. You knew she had to do that herself whenever she stayed at her dad’s place. 

And yes, while the teen was old enough and responsible enough to pack her own lunch, you just wanted to make sure she knew you were still in her corner, no matter what friction might be happening between you and her dad.

You and Beau parted ways that morning with tension still lying between you, just like it had been last night in your bed. After they headed out, you found yourself at a loss, feeling unbalanced.

You didn’t have a class today until noon, so you took the morning to truly think about what was happening here. Whatever Beau’s case was about, you knew it was serious and complex, and he didn’t want to talk about it, likely for your safety. 

All you could hope was that Beau, Jenny, Poppernak and the rest of the team were able to solve it quickly. You even began to wonder if it was fair of you to add stress on Beau’s shoulders when he was dealing with something that was clearly taking all of his energy, and making him distant with both you and Emily.

Blowing out a big sigh, you supposed you could try to be gracious one more time. You braved the annoyance of putting real clothes on—a blouse and work casual pants, as you later would have to go in to work. 

You first headed over to the precinct with your purse on one shoulder and a plastic bag hanging from your other hand. 

You entered the double doors and walked in past the reception desk, then through the bullpen. You noticed right away that there was a commotion going on, as you saw Jenny leading in a man handcuffed behind his back. You almost bumped into him as they crossed you in the hall. 

The man was tall and lean, with pieces of his coiffed dark hair falling over his sharp blue eyes. They found you, and his lips curved into a smile after he gave you a once-over. 

His smile made a shiver of unease prickle down your spine as you froze. 

“Keep moving, Casey,” Jenny ordered.

Beau was right behind her, though the moment he took in the exchange between you and Casey, Beau stalked forward and stepped in between, urging the other man forward with a firm hand on his shoulder and a stern look of warning.

Jenny and Popernak led the suspect into a room for questioning, while Beau’s hand found the small of your back and guided you into his office. 

He closed the door behind him and carded a hand through his hair. He let out a subtle breath and turned to face you. He didn’t look all that happy to see you, just tense. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Sorry, we’re a bit busy today.”

Before you could speak, he added, “Matter of fact, it’d be better if you called first next time.”

Your mouth snapped shut. Your brows knitted together in a glare, and you handed him the bag you carried in. It contained a nice hot sandwich and fries from Tonya’s diner, made by Donno himself.

“Here,” was all you said, before you walked out the door of the sheriff’s office. 

Beau watched you go in surprise, with the word “wait” halting on his tongue. His gaze traveled down to the open bag between his hands, and sure enough, the smell of a good meal hit him, making his mouth water and his stomach twist with guilt all at once.

Damn it, he sighed. But lunch (and a phone call to you) would have to wait. He set it down on his desk and hastened down the hall to where their suspect, in what had been dubbed the “Fall Murders,” had finally been arrested and held for questioning.

Casey Sanderson; ex-military, dishonorably discharged, an abusive mother in his childhood and an unstable mind following two tours in the Middle East had left him unbalanced, according to his friends from his unit.

His DNA was also discovered under the fingernails of the most recent victim, Christina Mendez. Two weeks ago, her body was found behind a gas station late at night, her neck carved by a knife, and bruises littering her arms and body. 

Beau entered the room where Poppernak and Jenny had already gotten started on the suspect. 

“Casey here has lawyered up,” Jenny informed him, though her gaze never left the suspect. They were forced to wait on further questioning until the lawyer arrived.  

“Ah, the Sheriff of Nottingham,” Casey remarked. His cool blue eyes watch with a measure of nonchalance as Beau stood behind his deputies, arms crossed. 

Casey nodded up at him. “Was that your girl out there in the hall?”

Beau’s formerly calm face turned to stone. 

Casey’s lips curved slightly. 

“Good taste,” was all he said.

His tone was mild, yet it still made Beau’s skin crawl. And his rage built, igniting his blood. He did everything he could to temper that wildfire into a simmer that rolled just underneath his skin. 

Jenny and Poppernak knew him well enough to see what he was thinking. Both of them watched him with hidden wariness and concern, especially when Beau stepped forward, placing one hand on the table between him and Casey Sanderson. Darkened green eyes met cool blue. 

“Where were you on November 2 between 10:00 p.m. and 4:00 a.m.?” Beau asked.

Beau was irate when, a few days later, the ADA prosecutor called him at his office first thing in the morning to inform him of the latest news on Casey Sanderson. 

“What the hell do you mean he got out on bail yesterday?” Beau snapped. “We have DNA evidence.”

“He claims that he and Miss Mendez had consensual sex earlier that evening, in the women’s bathroom, of all excuses, but they parted ways after leaving the movie theater,” said the ADA. “As you know, we couldn’t put him directly at the gas station near the theater, where she was found. The defense lawyer convinced the judge that the remaining evidence is too circumstantial to warrant holding him without bail.”

Fuckin’ hell, Beau let out an angry breath, carding his fingers through his hair. He hung up with the ADA moments later. His cell phone lighting up with a notification drew his attention, even perking him up a little, but he deflated when he saw it wasn’t from you. 

Just Carla letting him know that she’d take Emily for the weekend this time, just like he’d asked. He felt bad for it, but he needed more time to concentrate on his cases. Sanderson was just one of many now, and Poppernak and Jenny couldn’t handle it all.

Beau tried to rub his tired face back to life, but once again, he thought of you. He still felt guilty, and he still missed you. Missed you like hell. 

He hesitantly picked up his phone and he called you, hoping you wouldn’t let it go to voicemail again.

Admittedly, you were being a bit petty. You were screening your boyfriend’s calls. 

However, if Beau Arlen wanted to see you, then he could get his ass up off that office chair and come to you this time. 

You were tired of giving out olive branches left and right. You didn’t deserve to be the one left waiting and wringing your hands, wondering if this man even cared about you…as much as you’d come to care about him. 

So you ignored his call—the second one today, and you prepared for your afternoon classes. 

Even after your classes were done for the day, you graded a batch of papers to get them out of the way. As much as you couldn’t wait to go home, you didn’t feel like doing more work when you got there.

Another hour and a half ticked by before you finished grading and inputting the percentages into the online gradebook. Then, with a weary sigh, you grabbed your purse and your workbag and headed down to the garage where your car was parked. 

You always tried to park in the same spot for faculty, in a space closest to the elevators. You found your car and put down your workbag in the backseat first. When you closed the door, you saw a figure in the window’s reflection. 

You gasped and turned around. A man covered your mouth as a scream tore from your throat and echoed loudly in the garage.

He shoved you hard against the car door, but thanks to a few self-defense lessons from both Jenny and Beau, the heel of your hand came up on reflex. 

It hit the man up the bridge of his nose with a crack. He shouted and reared back. When he pulled his hand back, it came away bloody. And you finally recognized him as the man you saw at the precinct: tall, thin, dark brown hair, angry blue eyes now staring back at you.

“Fucking bitch,” he chuckled. “Got some fight in you.”

Fear was a living thing inside you, but you somehow managed to force your body to move.

You scrambled for the driver’s door of your car and tried to open it, but the man shoved it closed, then grabbed at you once again. His forearm pressed across your chest and pinned you there.

The edge of a knife poised at your throat, making you freeze in panic. The blade teased your skin, hot breath against your cheek.

“Freeze, Casey!” came an angry shout. Both you and your attacker recognized that voice. Your breath was stifled in hope. Casey frowned in frustration. 

Just over his right shoulder, you saw Beau holding his gun aimed at the man who held you. His brows were drawn together, his entire body poised to react to whatever Casey did next. 

“Turn around, hands up high, and drop that knife,” Beau ordered. 

Casey’s mouth edged into a humorless smile. “Evening, Sheriff. Up for a date night?” 

He slid the blade just slightly against your skin, enough to draw a line of blood, and make you inhale sharply. 

“I’m not gonna say it again! Turn around and drop the goddamn knife,” Beau snapped. “Try anything else, and I’ll make a third hole in your spine.”

Letting out a breath through his nose, Casey’s façade of nonchalance fell. He released you, stepping back slowly with his hands held in the air. The knife slipped out of his hand.

Beau stalked towards him before it even clattered to the floor. You were frozen where you stood pressed against your car.

You watched Beau stow away his gun and wrangle Casey’s hands behind his back, slapping on some tight handcuffs, and getting the man onto his stomach on the dusty ground, his cheek pressed hard to the asphalt. Beau held him down with one hand while he fished for his cell in his pocket to call for backup on the arrest. 

Beau’s head lifted to catch your eyes. He gave you a reassuring look. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got this,” he said.

His voice was warm for you, steady. When you nodded, it was a jerky motion as you held a hand to your racing heart. You then raised it shakily up to your neck and swiped at the trail of blood there. The wound itself was minor, just a sting, but it was a cold reminder of what could’ve been.

The wait for Jenny and the rest of the team was agonizing. 

Beau kept Casey on the ground, facing away from you. Eventually you were able to peel yourself off the side of your car and climb into the driver’s seat, just so you wouldn’t have to keep looking at the man who attacked you.

Jenny and Poppernak arrived within half an hour to haul Casey up and drag him into Jenny's SUV. That allowed Beau to return to your car and tap on the window of the driver’s side. You jolted and looked over to find Beau’s reassuring face. 

“They took him. It’s okay,” he said, only a little muffled through the door. You nodded and gestured for him to step back, so you could open the door. 

The moment you were on your feet and out of the car, you went into Beau’s waiting embrace. Hot tears welled up in your eyes. You hiccupped and struggled to breathe steady, but Beau held you tight and soothed a hand over your hair, down your back.

“It’s over, honey, I promise. I promise I’ve gotcha,” he said quietly in your ear. You nodded and let his warmth seep into you. 

“I’ll take you home, okay?” he said. “We’ll get your car tomorrow.”

You sucked in a trembling breath. 

“Please,” you agreed. “Take me home.”

“Am I going to have to testify in court?” you asked. 

Beau held you close in your bed later that night. You two had dinner together and had been rewatching old episodes of Friends to take both of your minds off what happened today.

Beau reluctantly nodded in answer to your question. 

“The ADA will probably ask you to, but…you can say no,” he said. “I’ll back you, whatever you decide.”

“No, I want to,” you said, even though the thought made you tremble inside. “That animal belongs in a cage.”

Beau silently agreed with you. He admired you for your vehemence, and your courage to even say that you wanted to testify against Casey. 

Beau laid a gentle kiss above your brow and continued to rub your back. You both had the blankets up to your hips with a bowl of popcorn balanced between his thigh and yours. He moved it over onto his nightstand so he could curl you more securely against him. You raised your head to consider him thoughtfully.  

“Why were you on campus?” you asked, as it finally occurred to you. “How did you know I was still there?”

“I thought I could catch you after your last class, so I went up to your office to see you,” he said. “But you weren’t there. A receptionist was on her way out though. She saw you head out a little while before, so I booked it back down to the garage to see if you were there.”

He was never more glad to heed his gut instinct. That was when he’d heard you scream.

The memory made his insides clench. Beau shook his head against the rest of it. He let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m so damn sorry for what happened. You gotta know, all this time, this is what I was trying to prevent,” he said, with pain written on his face. “But I’m also sorry that I shut you out. You and Em. I just didn’t know how else to keep you out of this. After what happened this summer…I wasn’t gonna let that happen again.”

With tears stinging in your eyes, you nodded. You knew now that he hadn’t meant to hurt you.

Beau Arlen truly was a good man, and that was hard to come by.

You shifted so that you were propped up on your elbow, resting on his pillow. You stroked his cheek. 

“I understand. And I’m sorry too. I know that your job can be difficult, and stressful, and sometimes dangerous,” you said. “But I need you to talk to me. If we’re going to do this for the long haul, we need to communicate. I can’t be left in the dark like that again, Beau. I just can’t…"

It was your turn to sigh. "It feels too close to what I went through with Michael. Being lied to. Being told what I wanted to hear, never actually knowing what was going on, until it was too late.”

You admitted that last part with a hitch of emotion in your voice, meeting Beau’s eyes. His were full of remorse.

“I know. Again, I’m sorry. I promise, I’m gonna work on it,” he said, nodding. He planned to make it up to his daughter too. He would talk to her tomorrow.

You drew his attention back with the hand caressing his cheek.

“I just don’t want anything like that to happen to us. I love you too much,” you said. A tear worked its way down your cheek. “Beau, I love you.”

Beau grasped your hand, holding it to his cheek. His furrowed expression eased, and his lips slowly turned up into a smile. A true one, hinting at all the charm that was unique to this man. You’d missed that smile. 

He dried your cheek with a gentle hand. 

“Well that’s good,” he said. “Because I don’t think I’ve loved you more than I do right now.”

You laughed through more of your tears, and let him guide you into a tender kiss. One sparked another, and more, each one more searing than the next.

Beau’s fingers disappeared into your hair, just as your legs tangled themselves between his when he rolled you over, and underneath him, where he continued putting actions behind his words. 

He gave you a promise that night, one that you’d both try to hold yourselves to in the morning.

AN: Ahh, I'm soft. This feels like the more "official" end to Take Me Home, though I'd be open to come back to these two if new ideas hit me. But until then, let me know what you thought of this one! 😘

Keep Reading:

Here's a drabble set directly after this one-shot. It's called A Crime of Passion:

Summary: When Beau Arlen decides to “make it up to you,” he’s damn thorough.

▶️ Next Story: A Crime of Passion

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Series Tag List (Part 1):

For those of you with tag lists, Tumblr is doing a weird thing again with tags. I had to separate them 5 at a time for the hyperlinks to work on each blog! So annoying lol.

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @brianochka

@branj19 @globetrotter28 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @ades106 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu

@nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @deans-baby-momma @tabsluvsu @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@deanwanddamons @anticxrrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @deans-spinster-witch

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @iprobablyshipit91

@ladysparkles78 @solariklees @lostin-jensenseyes @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731

@curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow

[beaudeanw]

OH TO GET CONSOLED BY JENSEN ACKLES LIKE THIS 😭🥺🫂🩷

Alec McDowell in Dark Angel - 2x17

CJ Braxton in Dawson's Creek - 6x19

Dean Winchester in Supernatural - 8x20

Beau Arlen in Big Sky - 3x08

[avengerdaisy]

Beau Arlen & Jenny Hoyt [433/∞] with Cassie Dewell & Cormac Barnes [71/∞] (+Emily Arlen and Denise Brisbane) in Big Sky

[sun-ni-day]

Jensen Ackles as Sheriff Beau Arlen terrified dad

+bonus relieved dad:

[deansraspberrypie]

💕🥺 Dad Beau

Big Sky - 3.13 - That Old Feeling 🤠✨

🍰 Tag list: @avanatural @undisputedchick @jranutter @fortheloveof-jackles @kazsrm67 @muchamusedaboutnothing @breath-of-snow-and-ashes @bluedragonflylady @mrsjenniferwinchester @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men 🥧

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Weeping Into Our Beers

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Big Sky, Werewolf: The Apocalypse, World of Darkness

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions Of Violence

Rating:  Explicit

Pairing:  Beau Arlen/OFC

Synopsis: Wounded warriors from very different worlds find some comfort in each other.

Tags:  Beau Arlen, Emily Arlen, Carla del Lugo, Sarah Fights-The Mighty (OFC), Crossover, AU, Bar Therapy, One-Night Stand

AN:  Sarah is my longest-held and dearest personal avatar -- or Mary Sue if you wanna be a jerk about it -- from a Werewolf The Apocalypse phase I went through way back in high school. For the nerds who care, she's a Black Fury Philodox and practicing ecoterrorist, who's buried a lot of loved ones including and especially her only daughter. In case anyone's coming from that side of the tracks, Beau Arlen is the acting sheriff of Lewis and Clark County (county seat Helena, Montana, USA), a transplanted Texas whose daughter was kidnapped and nearly killed by a serial killer. In this headcanon Big Sky takes place in the World of Darkness and Beau's an innocent human who has no idea werewolves exist. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any trademarks or copyrights. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and is protected by Fair Use.

---

Beau Arlen wasn't above playing up to clichés, it helped people feel comfortable around him.  Like not code-switching to hide his accent, using informal-yet-courtly manners, exaggerating his bowed legs a little when he walked.  Someone could call this just another cliché, the hard-drinking Texan seeking truth in the bottom of a beer bottle.  Well better a beer bottle than a whiskey glass, he supposed.  And nobody who knew the story would begrudge him seeking a little chemical comfort.

Still, there was a reason he was drinking at Longhorns as opposed to the Boot Heel tonight.  He was in a weird mood, and it was the kind of weird mood that led to bad decisions.  If Mo Poppernack, Lord bless him and his offbeat cheer, hit him with any more well-meaning kindness he just might knock the poor guy's block off.

A few seats down the bar, a couple got up.  Beau studied them in his peripheral vision.  Not a couple-couple, the body language was wrong.  Family he'd guess, even thought they looked nothing alike.  The man was six feet of ugly, black hair and bad acne scars, with a New York City accent that sounded like sandpaper being rubbed together.  The woman was older, petite and stocky, long brown hair pulled back into a French braid, her voice deep with a rasp that said cigarettes.  They embraced.

"Take care of yourself Chainsaw," the woman said, soft and tender.

"You too boss," the man said, touching her face.  "Don't get too drunk, okay?"

"No promises."

The man left.  The woman stood there for a moment before hauling in a deep sigh and sitting back up to the bar.  She glanced around.  Beau noted her eyes were a fine blue-gray, sharp as she checked the exits and counted heads.  Her jacket fell open as she stretched, and Beau didn’t see a weapon.  Funny, she sure as hell behaved like a woman expecting a fight and a bloody one at that.  Beau also noted a wide scar across her left cheek, four parallel lines like Freddy Kruger had cut her with his glove.

---

"So, the question becomes,” Sarah said, picking up her beer, “how drunk is too drunk?"

"Well, that's more of a philosophical question, I find."  Sarah glanced down at the resident of the stool a few slots down the bar.  A charming smile shone out from a short beard, one that found an echo on her own face.  "Unless motor vehicles are involved in which case too drunk equals 0.08 blood alcohol content or over."

"No vehicles involved," Sarah confirmed, mirroring his folksy slant on VEE-hicles.  "I'm staying at the motel a couple doors down."

"Oh well in that case," he tipped the neck of his own beer in a little salute, "however much proves as needed to thoroughly drown your sorrows."

Sarah chuckled.  "Too bad my sorrows have gills."

He grimaced.  "Oooh.  Yikes."

"I just settle for taking them out back and giving them a bath every now and again," she added, finishing off her beer and asking the bartender for a glass of water.

"Sound plan.  Very sound," the charming man approved.  He lifted his bottle, "My sorrows,” he drank, cleared his throat, “they just refuse to drown."

"Bastards found submarines?"

He laughed and Sarah felt her heart do that liftoff thing it did sometimes.  He really was very handsome.  Reminded her a little of Mark.  Similar coloring anyway, those fine green eyes he’d given Charlie before he split.  "We're way overthinking this metaphor."

"Just a skoash," Sarah agreed, and they shared a smile.

The charming man gave her a closer look and Sarah let him.  Some company would be nice.  Pull her out of her own thoughts for a while.  "I'm Beau," he identified himself, stretching to extend a hand across the empty barstools.

Sarah took it, noting a grip firm enough to be friendly.  "Sarah."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Be my guest," she said, and Beau moved the few seats down.  Stood about six-two, jeans, boots, sheepskin-lined coat, silver belt buckle about the size of her palm.  Forty-ish, she guessed, and he wore his years well.  Better than she was at any rate, with gray threading her hair thicker by the week.

"So, my interesting new friend," Sarah said, "what're your sorrows that they're lurking in submarines?"

"That's a long story."

Sarah shrugged.  "I got time.  Who knows?  Maybe talking them out a little'll make the fuckers drown faster."

Beau considered her.  She saw him noticing her scar, making a mental note of it.  "You're not from around here are you?"

"Obviously," Sarah said dryly.  "You aren't either.  Texas?"

"Got it in one."  He signaled the bartender and ordered, paying for Sarah's like a gentleman.  "Friend of mine was County Sheriff when he got wounded on the job.  He called me to fill in temporarily."

"That must've ruffled some feathers."

"Not as many as you might think although that might be a case of delayed reaction."

Sarah listened and sipped as Beau unbottled and laid out one hell of a story.  It was a struggle to keep her poker face when he described the serial killer who'd kidnapped his daughter.  Revenge or justice or both-- burning the Panty Man didn't make Charlie any less gone, forever lost before she really had a chance to live.  "Thank the Goddess your daughter's all right," she said.

"I mean, yeah, Em's tough.  Shit she's doing better than her mom’n’me."  Oh boy, could Sarah relate, the pups taking in stride what broke their elders.  "Carla's moving back down to Houston, permanently.  Her family's all there.  She needs the support system.  Come to find out plenty of her friends were really Avery's friends and they didn't have much use for her with him gone."

"Assholes," Sarah gave her opinion.

Beau shrugged it off.  "Last time I talked to her Emily asked me point-blank if I was gonna relocate with them."

"You thinking of getting back together with your ex?"

He thought a moment.  "It's funny.  Ask me that question a year-- hell, even six months ago, I'd've leapt at the chance.  Carla . . . she's one of the most amazing women I've ever met.  I think I'm a better man than I was when she left me.  I know I could be a better husband to her.  I’ll always love her."

"But?"

"But."  Beau sighed.  "But the issues that drove her away, those haven't gone anywhere.  And I don't know if we'll be good to each other, after Emily goes off to college, starts living on her own."  After a moment's thought, Beau added, "Avery was a grade-A jackass but Carla loved him.  She's still in mourning.  I don't think trying to get back with her will do anything but end badly."

Sarah made an educated guess and said, "Besides, there might be someone else."

Beau's eyebrows lifted, just a little.  "Are you a cop in your day job or just really good at bar therapy?"

That surprised her into a chuckle.  "People open up to me.  Goddess knows why.  Who is she?"

"One my deputies.  Tubbs's undersheriff," he confessed.  Sarah winced.  "Yeah.  I mean, she's . . . beautiful, tough, smart.  Brave?  Hell she kicks down doors better'n I do.  I think . . ." he trailed off, shook his head.  "So yeah, there might be someone else.  But then there might not be.  She lost her husband little over a year ago, went through a real rocky patch right after.  I'm not sure . . . I don't know if she's really put all that in her rearview.  Plus, she's technically my subordinate and anti-fraternization regulations are a thing that exist.

"It's not just her though," Beau admitted.  "I moved up here pretty much done with ever’thing.  Not just from the job either.  Didn't see much point to doin' anything but the daily routine.  Some days not even that."  Sarah nodded.  She could relate to that too.  "Then Tubbs asked me to fill in for him, just until he got back on his feet.  Now it's looking like he's retiring completely and his job needs filling.  The City Council asked me if I'm considering running for the office next year.  I have to give them an answer by close of business Monday."

Sarah whistled.  "No pressure or anything."

"Nope.  I mean, it shouldn't even be a choice, really.  Any other candidates I can think of are local boys'n'girls.  Who'm I?  I'm just the out-of-towner who happened to be in the big chair when the murder rate spiked to the highest it's been in fifteen years.  And there's Emily to think of.  I . . . I lost a big chunk of her life when I was going through my bad time.  I don't want to lose any more."

"Buuuuuuut?" Sarah dragged out.

"But," Beau said, signaling for another beer.  "But I have a life here, a good life.  Last thing I expected.  I mean, I like the country.  I like the people.  I got a job that might lead to me doin’ some good, 'stead of just playing Catch Me Screw Me with the cartels all day ev'ry day."

"Okay," Sarah said, considering as she finished her beer and asked for another water.

"Ah," Beau said, lighting up like a man who'd just solved a riddle.  He really was unfairly handsome, Sarah thought.  "Pacin’ yourself?"

"Takes the curse off the hangover," Sarah lied.  "And I've made some dumb decisions while drunk."

"Mmm?  What sorta dumb decisions?"

"Aggravated assault decisions," Sarah said.  Before he could ask, she amplified, "Got in a bar fight with a couple of dickheads over a Lions game.  Put'em in the hospital.  Took a plea, did a year, completed my probation about fifteen years ago.  Luna's blood I feel old now."

"I'm impressed."

"Don't be," Sarah said, noting the closer look he gave her.  She'd admit to going to seed a bit the last few years.  "I took boxing lessons all through high school.  I've got a decent left for my size.  And the other guys were really drunk."  Being able to ignore pain at will helped there.  Shifting to Glabro to match their height helped too.

"Makes sense," Beau shrugged.  "What're your sorrows that they need drowning?"

"Nothing that can really be helped," Sarah said, thinking of Misty giving her pups suck and glowing with joy, Chainsaw taking his broken heart back to the solace of his people and trying so hard not to blame her for losing Tripwire.  Roger, oh Gaia and Her mercy Roger--  "The inevitable march of time.  Makes me mopey.  Your problem on the other hand, sounds like something that can be addressed plain and simple.  Stay or go?"

"What do you think?  You have kids?"

"Had," Sarah said, her heart throbbing along the scar.  Charlie had lived there once, under her heart.  "She died."

"Oh Christ, I'm sorry," Beau said.  It was fascinating, she could read his heart in his face.  "I feel like a dick, whining about--"

"Hey," Sarah said, twisting in her seat and reaching over to take his hand.  "We're not talking about me, we're talking about you.  Let me ask you this; have you talked to your daughter about what she wants?"

"Yeah.  She didn't come right out'n say so but she wants me close.  She feels safe with me.  God knows why."

"Because she knows for a fact you'll deconstruct anyone who so much as looks at her wrong," Sarah said.  She thought a minute.  "Your girl's how old, sixteen, seventeen?"

"She'll be seventeen in a few months."

"My advice, for what it's worth," Sarah said, "is call her tomorrow when you both have time to talk.  Ask her what she needs from you.  Does she need her daddy or does she need her father?"

"There's a difference?" Beau asked.  He hadn't moved to take his hand back.  Instead he gripped at her fingers.

"Yeah, there is.  Daddy makes your problems go away.  Father helps you fight them yourself.  If you try to be her father when she really needs her daddy, you'll wind up making her feel alone.  Unsafe.  If you try to be her daddy when she needs her father, you'll wind up undermining her sense of herself.  That'll push her away, just when she really does need you."

Beau stares at you.  "That's possibly the least stupid thing I've heard in a long time."

"Oh thanks," Sarah snorted.

"No I meant-- sorry, I didn't say that right."

"What I mean is," Sarah said, "if you're making the decision for her sake, it might not be a bad idea to make her feel like she's got something of a say in it.  You got a life here that you like and want to keep, and that's okay.  But you got a duty to her.  Wise woman told me once, if there's a conflict between your head and your heart duty gets the tiebreaker.  At least then if it turns out you made a mistake you won't get eaten alive by your own conscience."

Quiet from her drinking partner as he finished off his beer.  He didn't let go of her hand and Sarah didn't take it back.  Been a while, since she'd felt warm at the thought of a man's hands.  His were nice, big and thick-fingered, nails clipped close and tidy.

"Thank you," he said as he put the dead soldier down.  "That actually helps a lot."

"What'd'you think you'll wind up doing?"

"I don't know," he admitted.  "Least now I can think the problem through instead of just brooding over it.  But now I got another problem."

"Mmm?  What's that?" Sarah asked.

A slow smile lit the other man's face, turning him from nice to look at to honestly breathtaking.  "I gotta think of another problem for you to solve for me."

Sarah laughed.  "Smooth."

"Sorry, been a while since I tried to be good company to a lady."

"Lady?  Lady?  What lady?  Where lady?" Sarah asked, miming a confused look-around.  "Shit I wish you'd've told me you were trying to be a gentleman, I'd've used my company manners."

"No no no," he deflected with a raised hand, "you've been delightful.  I'm just sorry I'm out of problems for you to solve for me."

"If you're having car trouble I can take a look--" Sarah teased.

"Naw, Pedro's running like a sweetheart."  No mistake now, his hand was holding hers.  His thumb swiped across the soft skin across the back.  Beau pivoted in his seat, opening his body more to Sarah.  "I, uh . . ."

"Is this the part where you invite me over for coffee or am I supposed to invite you for coffee?  I haven't done the coffee thing in a while," Sarah put it out there.  "Cuz if you don't mind a walk I'd love to have you over for coffee."

Beau considered.  His eyes were a little soft with the effect of the beers.  It made him look even cuter.  Luna's blood he must've harvested broken hearts by the truckload when he was younger.  "I'd like that.  Some coffee."

---

"Oh we need to make a pit stop at the 7-11," Sarah noted as they walked through the bar's parking lot.

"Oh yeah?  What for?" Beau asked.

"Coffee.  You take cream and sugar?"

That surprised him into a laugh.

---

Beau paused when he got down to her underwear.  "It's okay," Sarah reassured him as he looked her over.  At the roadmap of battle scars all over her body.  "If they're a mood-killer for you that's fine.  We can get a good night's sleep and no hard feelings."

"They're very much not," Beau said, touching her face.  "Just don't find it so weird you put a couple guys in the hospital all of a sudden."

Beau had a few battle scars of his own, some knife cuts and a couple of bullet holes.  He seemed to view them dispassionately, a source of neither pride nor shame.  "Mmm," he grunted as Sarah traced light fingers over his ribs.  "Tickles."

"Sorry."  She firmed her touch, slid her hand to caress his chest.  Firm definition under a healthy layer of squish, haired up a bit across his pecs and down his tummy.  She picked up his hand and examined the tattoo on the inside of his forearm-- a fleur-de-lis with a crown and anchor.  "This is French isn't it?"

"Mmm-hmm," Beau said.  "My mother's family's French.  My real legal name's Beaumont Theodore Arlen."

"Beaumont Theodore?  You poor poor boy," Sarah said.

Smiling, Beau put a hand on her shoulder.  "What about this?" his thumb rubbed over the tribal pictogram inked below her collarbone.  Faded with age, not that it mattered.

"Sort of a family mark," Sarah vastly oversimplified.  "The ones on my arms're relics of a gang I ran with when I was younger.  And what have we got here?" she asked as she put her palm over his zipper.

"Well darlin’ thishere's a fella love'ta meet you very much," Beau grinned.

"Luna's blood don't tell me you named it," Sarah groaned around her giggles, as she worked his button open and slowly lowered the zipper.  "On second thought," she said after working his pants down enough to get a look at him, "a fella this handsome probably deserves a name."

"We don't really blush in Texas, so let me," Sarah squeaked as Beau reared up and flipped them over, pinning her beneath his body and giving her a kiss, "demonstrate my appreciation."

"Oh my," Sarah sighed.  Beau kissed down the pad of tummy fat, carefully avoiding the straight line of her hysterectomy scar.  "Your mama raised a very polite boy."  Tipping her a wink, Beau split her with his thumbs and applied his mouth.  Sarah just shut her eyes and enjoyed it.  She couldn't remember the last time a man had done that for her.

"Such a mess for me," Beau noted when he came up for air.  Hot and flushed and panting, Sarah watched him squirm his pants off to land of the floor.  He belly-crawled and rolled to flop next to Sarah, hot and really unfairly fucking glorious in his birthday suit.  He had his wallet in his hand and with a little pleased grunt he pulled a condom out of the inner pocket.

"Allow me," Sarah said, taking the packet away from him.  Beau gave a little be-my-guest wave.  He fit in her hand just right, hot and firm.  Hearing him moan was lovely, as she clamped the condom packet between her lips and just played with him.  Easy to forget how much fun cocks were to just play with.

Beau seized Sarah's hand.  "Gotta stop a second," he panted.  "It's late, I'm tired, and I'm pretty sure I'm only gonna be able to do this once."

"Sorry, got carried away," Sarah said.  Wrapping him up was the work of a minute.  "How do you want me, cowboy?"

“Mmm . . . right about here I think,” Beau said, tugging her up and rolling her beneath him.  Sarah sighed as he pressed into her.  He was warm, warm and thick.  “Oh you make little sounds,” Beau said, because of course he was a talkative lover.

“Careful please,” Sarah said, breathing through the stretch, Little Beau wasn’t very little and it’d been a while.

“Accourse, accourse,” Beau kissed her.  “Lord Jesus you feel nice.  All soft and warm.”

“Careful, careful,” Sarah said as Beau braced his arm on the bed.  He lifted her leg and his hips moved in a wave.  Sarah sighed, he was moving inside her just so nice.  “Goddess yes,” she sighed.

Grinning big and bright, Beau brought her carefully to the edge and over.

As sparkles snapped along her nerves, Sarah flipped Beau over and returned the favor.

---

Glass cool and dusty under his fingertips, the heart inside still vivid red with the living blood it had once driven forth.  Twist slowly clockwise and the masking tape label bearing the single word in Sharpie -- EMILY--

Whirl around and there she was, the she become an it, laying with eyes open and empty right along with the chest.  And more.  There were other jars, other names.

CARLA.  RANDY.  BEN.  DENISE.  CASSIE.

Open empty eyes, open empty bodies, and the knife with her name was in his hand--

Beau woke up gasping.  Breathing exercises, breathing exercises, pull on the air there's plenty of it.  Beau pulled in for five heartbeats, pushed out for five heartbeats.  In, out.  His heart slowed as his breathing did.  Under the sheets his toes clenched and relaxed.  Beau let the motion ground him, pull him back to himself and the world where Emily was okay and it was just a dream.

And a world where he wasn't alone tonight.  How 'bout that.

Sarah wasn't any kind of beauty, a woman pushing fifty who'd lived hard and looked it.  On the other hand, she'd been kind without making him feel like he needed to be managed like Carla, and without the baggage of mutual attraction like Jenny, and not someone whose good opinion he cared about like Cassie or someone who’d been through enough already like Denise.  Beau got feelings about people sometimes, and his intuitions told him Sarah was good at carrying secret things.

He checked his phone, nodded at the lack of messages, and burrowed back under the covers.  As he did, Sarah grunted a bit.  Her muscles were rigid and her breathing was short and shallow.  Carefully, Beau spooned himself behind her.  "Hey there," he said softly, kissing her shoulder, "hey wake up, it's a dream, shh."

"I know that babe," she said, sleepy but clear, "I've had bad dreams all my life."  She rolled over and let Beau pull her close.  Kissing him, she asked, "What about you?  You okay?"

"Yeah."  He kissed the top of her head.  Stroking down her back and making a mental map of the scars under his fingers.  "My daughter's okay, the bad guy's dead."

"Right.  Just your imagination being a dick to you."  That made him chuckle.  "Go back to sleep.  Sounds like you could use it."

"Yeah," Beau agreed.  He took a breath from her hair, smelling cigarettes and beer and sex.  All that plus a warm body alongside his-- all of it pulling him far away from his usual and customary.  It felt nice, a little time-out from his reality where all the choices seemed bad for one reason or another. Beau shut his eyes and let fatigue do its thing.

When he woke up next the bed was empty and the room was full of morning light.  The bathroom door was shut and he could hear the blow dryer.  And singing-- Beau chuckled when he heard Sarah's alto voice singing something he didn't recognize.  Something sweet and melancholy, something that made Beau wish for his guitar.  God, there's something he hadn't thought seriously about in forever, just one of the many small joys that had died with Randy--

That's not true, something in his head spoke up, and for once the voice was gentle instead of accusatory.  Not dead, just put away for a while.  He wondered if Jenny sang, wondered if her voice went high and sweet or deep and smooth--

As he thought he sat up and found his phone.  No messages, thank the good Lord.  As he sent a quick good morning text to Emily, the blow dryer shut off.  "I alone, survived the sinking," Sarah's voice went softer, mindful that someone might be sleeping, "I alone, possessed the tools, on that ship of fools."

Sometimes a man is cursed with the need to know a thing.  Beau opened the browser on his phone and started typing.

The bathroom door opened and Sarah emerged wrapped in a towel, brushing out her long brown hair.  "Oh, good morning.  Shower's free."

"Thanks," Beau gave her a smile and hit the restroom.

---

Sarah got dressed as Beau got cleaned up and ready to face the day.  The day was shaping up beautifully, just right for a long drive down out of the mountains.  Been a long time since she'd been so by herself, not tied up in her responsibilities as pack alpha or sept warder or tribal elder or den mother.  And such lovely new memories to reflect on, she thought with a smile.  If tired and drunk Beau was this fantastic in bed she truly envied the woman who landed him long-term, scars and all.

She was just finishing up with the packing when the bathroom door opened.  "Hey," she said, "I'm on my way out the door but if you want we could grab some breakfast and I can drop you off somewhere."

It wasn't Beau looking at her, it was a cop studying a suspect.  Those beautiful eyes said very clearly bullshit me at your own risk.  "I know who you are."

"Really," Sarah said, pulling her bag up onto her back.  She stood straight and met his hard stare with her own.  "And who am I?"

"Stalinski, Sarah Michaela," Beau recited.  "Person of interest in the Chippewa Valley reactor bombing, person of interest in the Exxon Transit Pipeline sabotage, suspect in the murder of Willard Mikaelian--"

"AKA the Panty Man, and my daughter was his last victim," Sarah pointed out.  He never got to hurt another baby girl again, was the part she didn't say.  The law didn’t handle him for shit.  I did.  She left that part unsaid too.

Beau blinked, but that was all.  "You've got an FBI file thicker'n the King James Bible and your name's on half a dozen terrorist watch lists."

Sarah kept his gaze.  She really didn't want to hurt him if she didn't have to, not as a cop doing his duty.  "So."

"So."

"Am I under arrest?  Being taken in for questioning?  Detained just for the hell of it?"  Because that wasn't happening.

He didn't answer right away.  "No.  No, the only thing I can honestly accuse you of is getting drunk in a bar.  Which isn't illegal."

"Then,” Sarah asked, clapping her hands on her thighs, “why the dramatic reveal?  You wanna feel like you got the upper hand on me?  You got it, you win, fair and square."  He hadn’t and never would, but if the Goddess was good he’d never know that.

"Fine,” Beau said, and Sarah made a mental note to check his bloodlines because a human should not have this much presence, “I want you out of my county, and I don't want to ever see your face here again.  If I do I will turn you over to the feds.  Clear?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow.  "Your county?  Sheriff?"

Beau blinked.

"Sounds like your decision's been made.  And message received-- Helena is a no-fly zone from now on."  Sarah opened the door, but turned to look back at her one-night lover.  "For what it's worth," she said, "you're a good man, and you need to cut yourself some slack.  Take care of yourself Beau Arlen."

With that food for thought plated and served, Sarah shut the door and headed for the car.  Stranger In Town went in the stereo and Sarah drove away into the risen sun.

---

AN2: The scene stuck in my head so hard, I had to write it out. I just got done watching Big Sky, and it's a deep shame the series wasn't picked up for a fourth season-- I'd've loved to have seen Beau and Jenny running head-to-head in the next sheriff's election. Oh, and gotten more Emily. I love Emily.

[pickledpascal]

Bewitched

Chapter Four: When the Day Met the Night

Warnings: slurs but mostly fluff somehow

Word Count: 2.5k

Bewitched Masterlist

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True to her word, Emily arrived by plane in Montana the following weekend. Well, it was actually Thursday morning but Emily had a few excused absences she could use up. Beau picked her up from the airport with coffee and a few different pastries from his new favorite café. All thanks to Kiera.

Emily sighed happily after her first sip. Beau got her a hot chocolate, something he hadn't tried before but thought it would be nice in the cold weather. He knew Emily drank coffee, occasionally, but didn't want to get her hooked at a young age. 

“Good?” Beau asked as he adjusted his hands on the steering wheel, glancing her way.

Emily nodded with a contented smile, keeping both hands on the warm cardboard cup. “It's so good. This the place you and Kiera met at?” She asked smugly. 

Beau rolled his eyes. She knew the answer. She just wanted him to admit it. “Yeah.” He said after a while. “But I stayed for the really good croissants and danishes.” 

“Sure,” Emily said, doubtful. “Totally not because there was a hot, tall goth girl with piercings and platform boots that only made her taller.” She teased with knowing eyes.

“Wait, how'd you know about the boots?” Beau blinked.

Emily smirked, “That was just a guess.” 

Beau let out a forced cough and looked away from Emily, turning the volume up on his radio. “Wow, that's—um—you like Taylor Swift, right? What's this song called?” He knew it was on a pop station but he couldn't recognize what song was playing. 

“Willow.” Emily stared at her father, amusement in her eyes. She'd never seen him quite like this before. Flustered. All because of a woman. A woman he hadn't known for that long.

The truck stopped just outside the Airstream. Beau helped Emily take out her luggage and put it inside his trailer with a small sigh. Thankfully the park he stayed in provided Wifi for all the guests. Emily had some homework she wanted to get done. It was last minute, especially after Midterms and everything were done. 

“I finally have some food and a working grill so I can make you dinner tonight instead of getting takeout or something.” Beau offered Emily as she came out of the Airstream, one of his blankets around her shoulders. 

Emily hummed in response as she sat next to Beau. “Burgers would be nice.” 

Beau wrapped an arm around Emily's shoulder and pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Then burgers it'll be.” He leaned his head against hers. 

Having a simple moment like this made Beau's heart swell. It's been a while. A quiet, soft moment with Emily was few and far between these days. There was the part where they lived so far away and he couldn't travel too often as Sheriff. So he enjoyed it as best he could. Beau knew he would have to let go eventually. He just hoped it wouldn't be so soon. 

“You ever talk to mom about Kiera?” Emily asked softly, moving her head so it lay against Beau's shoulder. 

Beau shifted uncomfortably, pursing his lips. “Sometimes.” It's not that he still liked Carla, he just felt weird talking to a woman he used to love about a woman he currently has feelings for. “We're still… working out our relationship.” He wanted to stay friends, or friendly, with Carla for Emily. 

There was a moment where he thought he still loved her. 

But that was quickly shut down since Kiera came along. She was amazing, beautiful, nice—after he got to know her—and he fell for her. A little harder than he first expected but he couldn't exactly control it. What he was feeling. What he wanted to feel with Kiera. It was all so new yet familiar at the same time. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Beau grabbed it an looked at the caller ID. Kiera? He answered it, lifting the speaker to his ear. “Hey!”

“Yeah, hey!” Kiera's voice was harbored, breathing heavily. She was stressed, he could tell. “I'm really sorry to bother you right now but Dalia got in trouble at school—possible suspension or something—and I'm a little swamped at work right now. Would you mind going to the school for me?”

Beau blinked at her words. He knew Dalia was a handful but suspension, really? For a second grader? “Uh, yeah, sure. I'll be right there.” He glanced at Emily who was looking at him strangely. 

“Thank you!” Kiera sighed happily. “I'll see you after work.” He could imagine her shoulders slumped with relief. 

“Change of plans?” Emily asked as Beau hung up the phone. 

Beau shrugged apologetically. “Kiera's kid got in trouble at school,” He sighed and pressed a kiss to Emily's temple as he stood. “I gotta go get her.” 

Emily stood up as well. “If you're going, I'm going.”

Beau pursed his lips. It wasn't like he was taking Emily into a hornets nest but he wasn't completely sure what he was walking into—never was when it came to Dalia—and he wasn't sure he wanted Emily around for that. For a seven-year-old, Dalia was intense.

But he knew Emily was stubborn. Much like himself. Much like her mother. “Okay.” He said carefully. 

Emily and Beau arrived at the school. Beau parked his truck in the front, assuming that there was no need to find a space since they wouldn't be there too long. They walked into the front office where Beau did not see a certain dark-haired child clad in pastels waiting to be picked up. 

“Hi, um, I'm Beau Arlen and I'm here to pick up Dalia Styx.” Beau said to the lady at the front desk, his signature smile on his face.

The lady's eyes widened at the sight of him. “Right, Ms. Styx did say a Beau Arlen was coming,” She bit her lip as she looked down at her computer. “I didn't think she was telling the truth.” She whispered the last part but Beau could hear it. 

Everyone in Helena knew of Beau at this point. Whether that be because of the backpacker case he worked on with Cassie or any other, smaller case he worked on, it was nice to know he was known. Denise always said it was because he was the hot new Sheriff from Texas. That always made him flustered.

“Dalia is in the principal's office.” She explained as she adjusted her glasses. “I can show you the way.”

Beau glanced at Emily and nodded at the office lady. “Yeah, that'd be great.” He wondered what Dalia could've even done to end up in the principal's office. 

Beau and Emily were led into the office and down a few winding halls. How did the outside of the school look so small but this office was huge? They stopped at the end of the hall at a large wooden door, decorated a bit differently than the ones they passed. The hinges were brass at it had a large window in the middle that was covered by curtains on the other side. 

The office lady left as Beau opened the door. “Ah, Sheriff Arlen. Sit,” Said the principal—Mr. Pope. Beau saw the nameplate on his desk. “And you are?” His eyes shifted to Emily. 

“His daughter.” She responded, glancing to Dalia who sat in one of the two chairs in front of the principals desk. Her arms were crossed as she stared at the edge of the desk. 

Beau sat next to Dalia and pursed his lips. “Can you tell me what happened? Kiera wasn't too… descriptive on the phone.” He glanced at Dalia who seemed to be more regretful that she was caught.

Mr. Pope looked from Beau to Dalia. “Why don't you explain what happened?” 

Dalia pouted and rolled her eyes. “My classmate called my mommy a tranny so I called her a motherfucker.” Her eyes shined with pride and Beau had to resist the urge to laugh. “And then she told on me to the teacher. She said I said the B-word and I called her dumb because motherfucker doesn't start with b.” 

Mr. Pope looked from Dalia to Beau then up to Emily who was trying her best to suppress laughter. He narrowed his eyes at the teen. 

“Is suspension really necessary? From what she said, her classmate started it first.” Beau commented. He tried to reason. If anything, saying a slur should be enough reason to be suspended. 

Mr. Pope shook his head. “Dalia will be suspended for a week. Given that the holidays are soon, it'd give her more time for her to reflect on her actions.” 

“I won't.” Dalia smiled sweetly at her principal. “You're giving me more time to learn more from the books my mommy gets me. So thank you!” She jumped off her chair and slid her backpack on. She took Emily's hand and pulled her out of the office.

Beau watched and then turned to the principal. “We're gonna get her out of your hair so, um, bye.” He waved before he followed Dalia and Emily out of the school. 

He helped Dalia into the truck since she was weirdly short for someone related to Kiera. A woman so tall Beau questioned if she was taller than him some days, not that it'd matter. Or that he'd care. Alright, maybe he'd care a little. But not in the way that it emasculated him, no, he liked it. Liked it maybe a little too much. 

“You're really cool for a seven-year-old.” Emily said as Beau started to drive. She glanced back at Dalia through the rearview mirror.

Dalia shrugged. “My mom said I should just be myself and everyone would like me.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “At least, the people that mattered.”

Beau hummed as he looked at the center of his steering wheel, a fond look on his face. Kiera was so young and yet seemed so wise in the short time they'd known each other. Her life was tumultuous. He was starting to realize she needed to mature faster than he did. Faster than a lot of people he knew. And she wanted to give her daughter a semblance of a normal childhood, even with Dalia’s overactive imagination and strange interests. 

Dalia unbuckled herself as Beau parked his truck. She slammed open the door and ran up the porch. “I've been here before! I never knew you lived here.” She said excitedly. Beau cocked an eyebrow. “I wonder in the woods sometimes. I've seen this place, the pretty lights,” She looked up at the lights with wonder in her eyes. “The 1984 Airstream. The way it reflects the lights…” She hummed. 

Beau and Emily shared a look as they exited the truck. “You okay with staying here until your mom comes to pick you up, sweetheart?” Beau got on one knee to be level with Dalia.

“Yeah. You're gonna be my new dad soon anyway.” Dalia tilted her head, a crease between her eyebrows. The comment surprised Beau. “Actually, you'd be my first dad! Because my mommy wasn't ever really a daddy and I technically have two mommies. One who birthed me and the other who—” She stopped, looking up at Emily and Beau. They looked at her weirdly. “I know where babies come from. I read.”

Beau ruffled Dalia's hair with a big smile. “Yeah, I gathered that.”

“Mommy told me not to let a stranger touch my hair unless they ask.” Dalia pursed her lips in thought. “But you're not a stranger.”

“Dalia, do you wanna come read with me? I'm doing a book report on urban legends.” Emily suggested. She had a feeling Dalia would like it. 

Dalia grabbed Emily's hand and practically dragged her inside the Airstream. 

Beau watched and let out a sigh as the door closed. And locked. Okay. No disturbances. Beau sighed as he sat on his porch, clasping his hands between his knees. Dalia calling him dad, even if not completely, made Beau feel all kinds of things. Emily was the only child he wanted for a while. She was perfect. A handful still, even if she was just one girl. And then Kiera came into his life, inevitably bringing Dalia into it as well. 

She was a one-of-a-kind, that's for sure. A child whom her mother trusted so deeply that she would not get lost or killed in the woods, who stood up to people, and who knew a lot more than Beau could imagine. Maybe he did want more kids. Just Dalia. And her weird, dark, but fun, mind. 

Kiera walked up to Beau’s porch. He saw a retro-looking car next to his truck. It was painted black much like Kiera’s clothing choice.

“Thanks for getting Dalia,” Kiera smiled as she sat next to Beau, adjusting her coat. “What'd she do this time?” She asked with a small sigh. As if it was procedure at this point.

Beau bit the inside of his cheek, wrapping an arm around Kiera. “I don't think I'm at liberty to say.”

“That bad, huh?”

Beau shrugged. “Not exactly.” 

Kiera sighed and looked down at her knees. Her jaw was tightened and she was wringing her hands slightly. Beau was an oblivious man but was also observant. She was nervous. Second guessing herself. He had a clue as to why.

Beau held her closer, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Dalia stood up for you. A kid called you something bad. You're raising her right. Standing up for those you love, isn't that something you'd do?” He smiled warmly at Kiera as he lifted a hand to her cheek. 

Kiera lifted her eyes to meet Beau’s and let out a small sigh. “Yeah. I just–” She glanced down. “I wonder if putting Dalia in a public school is the right thing. I wonder if… I'm doing this wrong. She's so much smarter than me,” Beau listened, deciding that's mostly what Kiera needed at the moment. “I'm autistic too. But a different kind. She's the smart kind of autistic that likes reading books and learning and recognizing patterns while I just obsess over The Cure and The Cramps and only like eating Mac and Cheese for weeks until I change my safe food to something else. Why do you think I only wear black? I do like black. But colors just feel wrong. The–The textures of it, it's different and it's like I'm the only one who can feel it. Scratchy, weird, ugh, I hate it.” She rolled her shoulders in disgust, scrunching up her face.

Beau frowned at Kiera. He hadn't known about this yet. Well, a little of it. Dalia had inadvertently told him she and Kiera were on the spectrum but he didn't know the extent of it. This wasn't something he could change but it was something he could accommodate in his life. 

Beau sighed and pursed his lips. “You're doing the best you can. Unfortunately, sometimes, that's all we can do.” He rubbed Kiera's shoulder. 

“Is that what you tell yourself or do you lose yourself in self-loathing too?” Kiera asked. 

Emily snickered from behind the pair. Kiera and Beau turned to look at her. “Sorry, just—uh, I'm Emily.” She stuck out her hand for Kiera to shake. 

Kiera stood and accepted the hand with a small smile. “I know.” 

“Woah, she is tall.” Emily said before she could think. 

Beau chuckled as he stood next to Kiera. Dalia came running out of the Airstream and immediately hugged Kiera's legs. 

Kiera brushed Dalia’s hair away from her face as she squatted down to talk with her. “You alright?” She asked softly.

“Uh-huh! Emily was talking to me about the Hull House mansion which is said to be one of the most haunted places in America!” Dalia said excitedly with a nod of her head. 

Kiera looked up at Emily who was a little too distracted in seeing if her nails were chipped. “Was it fun?”

“Yeah! And, Beau,” Dalia turned to the cowboy. “The wolves like you.” 

Beau cocked his head. “Uh, thanks?” 

“No problem!” Dalia grinned. 

“Look, sweetheart, we gotta go. I don't want to intrude on father-daughter time as much as I already have.” Kiera said apologetically, patting Dalia’s shoulder. 

Emily looked at Beau who appeared like a kicked puppy. “We're having burgers.” She said as nonchalantly as possible. 

“Yeah, uh–” Beau smiled nervously. He still wasn't good at this. Kiera never failed to make him feel so… so weird. In a good way. Like he was in middle school and had just mustered up enough courage to ask his crush to the homecoming dance. “W-Would you like to stay for dinner? We are having burgers. You like burgers right? Unless you hate burgers—oh, you hate burgers.” His shoulders slumped.

“No, I like burgers.” Kiera chuckled, an amused smile on her face as she looked at Beau and Emily. 

Beau perked up and then nodded. “Great!”

Kiera looked down at her daughter. “Do you wanna have dinner with Beau and Emily?” She asked softly.

“Are they bison burgers?” Dalia looked up at Beau. He shook his head. “Then yes!” 

Emily held out her hand for Dalia to take. “We can make the mixture. My dad taught me the perfect recipe.” Dalia quickly ran over and entered the Airstream with Emily.

“Why is bison a bad thing?” Beau asked curiously.

Kiera wet her lips and rubbed at her arms to keep warm. “Bison was traditionally hunted by Native Americans before white colonizers decided to kill bison for sport, effectively cutting off one of our sources for food,” She explained with a sigh, “Montana is one of the only places that still have wild bison. Very few. And they're sometimes killed for meat. Dalia has the moral compass of a saint. Most times. She doesn't like to eat bison. She doesn't like eating any meat unless she can be certain it died of natural causes. However, there are exceptions.” 

Beau hummed. That child did have the moral compass of a saint. Doing what needs to be done and showing mercy on animals who don't deserve it. That sounded saintly to him. 

“That why you asked her if she wanted to eat with us tonight?” Beau cocked his head, taking Kiera's hand. Her skin was cold and he knew he attracted warmth. 

Kiera hummed in response. “Yeah. And she's been craving my squash stew for weeks but I can never find the right ingredients around here. I thought she'd say no.” She admitted as her eyes found Beau's. “She likes you. A lot.” Beau pursed his lips. He'd only interacted with her twice. But he could tell it was the truth. “One day you might end up as her favorite person. Too bad it's been me all her life.” She teased softly. 

Beau nudged Kiera with his shoulder and then pulled her close. “Who's your favorite person?”

“Right now? You.” Kiera murmured as she pressed a kiss to Beau's cheek.

He swore if he would've died right then and there and would've been happy. 

------

taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

taglist open here !!

[sexyvixen7]

!!SPOILERS!!

(3x13; "That Old Feeling")

This. My heart was happy for Beau.

[countrymusiclover]

8 - Our Past's Are Complicated

Part 9

Other Hoyt's Off Limits

Tag list - just ask to be added ☺️

Sitting up in my bed I was still half asleep stretching my arms and legs out hearing footsteps come down the hallway of our place. My sister and I decided to split the cost of the house so I didn’t have to find my own place. The footsteps halted in the doorway where I looked up. “Hey sis, Cassie called me and said she got a call from Cormac about something suspicious. So I’ll see you later.” 

“Alright. Tell me what she says when you get back.” I responded hugging my knees to my cheek underneath the blankets. 

She turned on her heels flipping her hair over her shoulders when she paused. “Let me just make something clear. You’re not seeing Beau right like we planned?” 

Knitting my brows together I tried to play it cool like we weren’t secretly dating without her knowing. We had only had two dates and I’m not sure you could call that we had a long kiss. We only had quick little ones here or there. “What no way. We made a deal and I promised I would stick to it.” 

Jenny leaned her back against the doorway crossing her arms over her chest. “Look you better not be lying to me. I don’t want you to get hurt like with JW. I dated a cop and it didn’t work out. Dating someone that you work with especially.” 

“Travis and you shouldn’t have happened and I’m sorry to say that but it is true. You shouldn’t have gotten together when he was undercover.” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest, getting a little annoyed that she was judging me. 

My sister pointed her index finger at me, raising her voice towards me. “This isn’t about Travis, this is about you, Mallory. The night you found out about the girl that he killed you came home sobbing to me. I don’t want you to feel like that again. You’re my sister and I am trying to protect you.” 

Tossing the covers away I got up from the bed shrugging on some black leggings with my shirt that had a cowgirl hat on the front of it. Putting my hair in a ponytail I heard my phone go off figuring it was Beau. “I understand that but you should go. Cassie is waiting for you.” She gave me a straight face exiting the bedroom leaving me alone. 

“Hey darlin’ I was thinking about bringing over some pizza and beers since we have the day off. Sound cool to you?” He asked through the phone. 

Closing the fridge I pulled out some beers knowing that my sister wouldn’t be back for a few hours so I could replace the ones we drank. “Yep I’ve got the beers covered. So come on over.” It wasn’t long before I heard him knock three times on the front door only an hour later. 

Getting up from the couch I flung open the door smiling towards my boss. He walked in sitting the food on the table in front of the tv before embracing me in a hug. “I’ve missed you, Mal.” Nuzzling my head into his chest flinging my arms around his neck. His arms secured around my waist resting his chin on top of my head softly. Clutching my hands into fists behind his back I sniffed slowly starting to cry into his embrace where he clearly noticed. “Mallory, what’s wrong. Why are you crying? Talk to me sweetheart.” 

He broke the hug gently holding his hands on my forearms. Those green eyes focused on me as I let tears slip down my face. “Beau, it’s nothing…I’m fine. Let’s eat pizza.” 

I removed myself from his hold but he managed to snag my wrist quickly. “Hold on, Mallory. Seriously, you know you can talk to me. So please tell me what is bothering you.”

“Jenny and I had a fight sort of this morning…” I trailed off where he led me down to sit on the couch intertwining my hands with his in my lap. He didn’t say a word, just letting me go at my own pace. “She’s piecing together that we are getting close. I hate lying to her but she has put this idea in her head that you will be like my ex John Wayne. And I brought up her ex Travis because he’s why she won’t date cops anymore…she thinks that will happen to me…to us.” 

Beau reached up, wiping away some of the tears from my cheeks. “The drug dealer cartel.” I nodded my head yes slowly before he kept talking. “Look, you shouldn’t be having fights with her about our relationship. Now you told me about your past with JW and I even have my own past. So don’t ever think that you can’t talk to me about what you think I might do wrong. I messed up with Carla and Emily but I will do better with you,” 

Squeezing his hands in mine I wiped away opening the pizza box handing him a piece taking a bite out of mine. “Can I ask what happened between you two? Like why didn’t it work if you don’t mind.” 

“It’s fine, don't worry.” He took a bite handing me the pepperoni from his piece since he just wanted cheese pizza tonight. “Let’s just say that we had fights over little things. Me coming home and drinking after a hard day of work. That turned into almost everyday before I left for work. And I just became different around everyone…long story short I’m trying to move past them now.” 

Sitting my piece of pizza down I lay my head on his shoulder where he draped his arm over tugging me closer into his embrace. A comfortable silence filled the house while we just sat there together. Slowly turning my head I saw he was staring down at me longingly too. “You’re a good guy, Beau. I wish I would have met you first.” 

“You’re perfect, Mallory. Your ex was a dumbass.” He responded in an almost mumble underneath his breath blinking once as he leans forward and I followed shortly, connecting our lips in a long kiss. He snacks his arms around my waist where I climbed in his lap, never breaking the kiss. 

Running my fingers up his chest I gripped the fabric of his white flannel shirt for a few minutes before my fingers knotted themselves in his hair tugging a few strands hearing him moan into the kiss. The Texas sheriff ran his hands up my back resting one hand there moving his other up to cradle my face gently. I broke the kiss for a split second hearing us both panting but we were so caught up in the moment that neither of us seemed to care. 

Beau deepened the kiss cupping the other side of my face with his hand. Wrapping my arms around his neck he leaned back onto the couch when I tilted his chin up not expecting that our day would go like this. He moved his hands underneath my shirt, breaking the kiss searching for me to tell him stop. “Do you want me to stop?” 

"No. I…um. I've never done anything more than this. Not even with my ex.." I blushed, feeling embarrassed that here I was still a virgin while my sister was married and already had a kid in college. 

Beau gently turned my chin back toward him so I was focused on his green eyes resting his forehead against mine. "We don't have to do anything else if you're not ready for it honey." Bending my head down I snuggle into his warmth letting him wrap his arms around me kissing my forehead until his phone rang. "Arlen, what's up. Wait, what do you mean you let her go into the woods alone?" 

I could tell by the frustration in his tone that it must be the new husband he was talking too. He hung up the phone causing me to sit upright on the couch. "What was that about?" 

"Carla's new husband, Avery. He let my daughter go into the woods by herself and now he called saying she was all in a panic. Also they found a dead girl's body that was brought back. I'm sorry Mallory but I've gotta go." He stood up, removing himself from my hold heading for the door. 

Snatching my boots that I had accidentally thrown under the couch coming home late from the office I grabbed my cameo jacket calling his name. "Beau, wait." He paused watching me grab my house key following him to his truck. "I'm coming with you." 

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[bellarkeselection]

How do you all think Beau would be about introducing a new girlfriend to his daughter Emily??? And how would Emily react?? 🤔 🤔

[zepskies]

The way my heart broke here 😭

Dad Beau | Big Sky 3.08 | Duck Hunting 

[zepskies]

Series Masterlist - Take Me Home

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you both have a past you’re running from. 

AN: Welcome to my first ever Big Sky series! This is set towards the beginning of season 3.

Series Tags/Warnings: (**18+ only!) Angst and grief/trauma, PTSD, canon murder mystery, eventual smut.

🎵 Listen While You Read: The TMH Music Playlist (YouTube)

Chapters:

Part 1: All of Her Days

Part 2: It's Not Right, But It's Okay

Part 3: Welcome Home

Part 4: A Past & Future Thing

Part 5: Not That Simple

Part 6: A Man or a Coward

Part 7: On the Edge of a Knife

Part 8: Take Me Home

Part 9: A Choice to Make

Series complete!

Bonus One-Shots:

A Good Man Is Hard to Find** When Beau starts pulling away from you and Emily during a very difficult case, will the pressure make or break your relationship?

A Crime of Passion** When Beau Arlen decides to “make it up to you,” he’s damn thorough.

S.I.N.G.** Beau wishes you’d take this self-defense lesson a little more seriously.

Echoes Beau has another rough night, but you help him face a harder truth.

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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Series Tag List:

Comment below if you’d like to be tagged in this series!

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[avengerdaisy]

Beau Arlen & Jenny Hoyt (with Carla De Lugo and Emily Arlen) in Big Sky [360/∞]

[deansraspberrypie]

💕😍 Dad Beau

Big Sky - 3.11 - Super Foxes 🤠✨

🍰 Tag list: @avanatural @undisputedchick @jranutter @fortheloveof-jackles @kazsrm67 @muchamusedaboutnothing @b3autyfuldisast3r @breath-of-snow-and-ashes @bluedragonflylady @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @mrsjenniferwinchester 🥧

[jacks-wack-attack]

The Big Sky finale killed me. Absolutely murdered me. Here was the thought process while I basically went through the five stages of grief.

Ok so Buck has the girls but it will be fine because I said so

No Beau don't cry because now I am crying and we can't both be messes

Buck no don't blackmail the man just give him his daughter back

GIVE THE MAN HIS DAUGHTER DO NOT GO BACK ON YOUR WORD HOW DARE YOU I WILL COME THROUGH THIS SCREEN AND PUNCH YOU MYSELF

They're not in the trailer. It's fine. They are somewhere else. I am okay. Emily is okay. Denise is okay. I can keep on living.

BEAU PLEASE BE ALRIGHT OK YOU WILL BE FINE YOU'RE ROLLING DOWN THIS HILL AND FIGHTING HIM AND HE HAS A KNIFE AND YOU DON'T BUT PLEASE BE ALRIGHT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

.... she shot him. She shot Buck. Oh wait. Oh nO WAIT WHAT ABOUT THE GIRLS

*SCREAMS INTO THE VOID*

Ok I know Cassie and Cormac are being emotional but THE GIRLS

THEY FOUND THEM THANK GOODNESS

Catch me CRYING Emily is OKAY and Beau got his daughter back and I am LITERALLY in TEARS

DONNO IS ALIVE AND OKAY I FORGOT ABOUT HIM MY BOYYYYYY

"I felt something. Like my first time at Tim Horton's" - Donno, thank you for making me laugh after this entire episode broke me

YES GO DRINK BEERS TOGETHER BE HAPPY ENJOY EACH OTHER'S COMPANY BECAUSE YOU MAKE A GREAT TEAM AND BEAU YOU BETTER STAY (don't think I don't see that hand on Jenny's thigh y'all are adorable)

So that was the finale. It may come as a shock, but Beau is my favourite (I know, who would've guessed) and seeing him in pain puts me in pain so this whole episode was PAIN with a splash of joy at the end for funsies. It's fiiiiiine I am totally not crying anymore