Archive of Our Own

Ava didn’t have to like Sara to appreciate that she was hot. She didn’t. Seriously. Despite what Gary said about how attraction had to have some small, minute form of appreciation and amity, Ava firmly believed that she could 100% still see Sara as an annoying, uncooperative, ridiculous, pain in the ass who had no idea how to be an unobstructive and helpful member of society, while also being able to recognise that she was quite possibly one of the hottest people Ava had ever laid eyes on in her life.

Because she was.

There was a reason that almost everyone Ava had ever heard talk about Sara either had or wanted to sleep with her. (She was pretty sure Sara had banged like, every mildly attractive International Relations student that the school had to offer, and was only staying away from the History department because most of them were her friends).

It had become a mixture of amusing and cringe-worthy to watch the flustered, babbling reactions of new people Sara talked to. Ava was thankful she had found a way to get under Sara’s skin (in the wrong way) early on in their - relationship? friendship? rivalry? - because Sara never tried to flash her the charming Lance seduction smile , or the bedroom eyes , or the smooth, sweet-talking pick up lines because she was too busy arguing with Ava to even try. And that, Ava could absolutely work with. Because she hated Sara. Sara was annoying and uncooperative and unobstructive and a pain in her ass.

But.

Sara was also very smart. They shared enough classes together for Ava to know that she was an A student, had heard her answer enough questions to realise that she knew what she was talking about, and to Ava’s chagrin, smart was one of her biggest turn ons. So yeah. Sara was smart and also happened to be good at cracking a joke to diffuse a tense situation, which Ava had to reluctantly admit, she always appreciated in a person. Smart, funny, and … unfortunately, she was kind. Ava wished she could think of Sara as a detached, too-cool know it all, but she remembered clearly when Gary had been spiraling down towards an anxiety attack over their Colonial Literature midterm and before Ava could even open her mouth to say something reassuring, Sara had stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on Gary’s arm and said “Hey. Green. Calm down, okay? You’ve got this, there’s a reason I asked you for help with the essay last month. If Ava wasn’t practically married to this course, I’d say you know it better than anyone.”

“Hey!” protested Ava, shooting Sara a glare, but it had made Gary laugh weakly and murmur a quiet “Thanks Sara”, before letting out a shaky breath and then proceeding to get a 98% on the exam.

So yeah. Sara was smart, funny, kind, and obviously attractive. And maybe … maybe they were friends. Sort of. Because somehow, since that midterm, they’d started talking. Just quick conversations as they waited to go into class, brief, facebook messages about upcoming assignments (because they shared a few classes, so what, it didn’t mean anything). But then Constantine and Gary had started flirting, Constantine had started tagging along to Colonial Lit classes, Sara had moved to sit with them because she and Constantine were friends (or exes? Ava wasn’t quite sure, just knew they’d definitely slept together). And somehow, their conversations had become about more than just classes, more than about their professor’s wacky ties and the agony of their upcoming tests.

Somehow, their conversations ranged to Sara’s sister graduating from Law school, Ava’s new apartment hunt because her roommate was moving across the country, what parties were happening this weekend, common friends that the two of them had.

Ava wasn’t exactly reserved about her sexuality, but she didn’t advertise it, didn’t say ‘actually, I’m a lesbian’ unless someone directly asked. But when homophobic douchebag Marcus McGill had snarkily said “Nice to see you and Sharpe have expanded your gay squad, Green”, to which Ava had coolly replied “You’re just butt hurt that literally nobody here wants to sleep with you McGill”, Ava definitely saw the way Sara glanced over at her in intrigue, raising a curious and impressed eyebrow. Once McGill was out of earshot, she’d turned over to Ava and said “So … are you …?”

“Gay?” finished Ava, smiling wryly. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” said Sara, and Ava could’ve sworn she saw colour rise to her cheeks. “Cool.” She paused, before smirking and going “That was badass. What you said to that douche.”

Ava shrugged. “I’d have punched him but we’re in class.”

To that, Sara had laughed, elbowed Ava with a playful grin that brought out her dimples, made her brilliant blue eyes sparkle  and Ava was momentarily breathless because oh yeah . Sara was attractive. But apparently, she was attractive and kind, funny, smart, charming, fit, and -

Okay, so maybe Sara objectively wasn’t the worst person in the world. Maybe … maybe Ava liked her a little. Only a little. A ‘little’ that quickly disappeared, became a lot - in fact, little went flying the window - when a very, very drunk Jake Tremain attempted to flirt with Ava at one of Nate’s parties.

Ava sighed as she chugged back another swig of punch, grimacing as Jake leaned closer, his breath reeking of alcohol.

“C’mon Sharpe, you know you want to,” he said, so wasted that his usually somewhat charming smile just looked creepy and lopsided.

“I really, really don’t Jake,” said Ava tiredly. “Lesbian, remember?”

“Yeah, but that’s just cos you haven’t experienced the Tremain,” slurred Jake, gesturing vaguely to his lower half.

Ava groaned. “That’s not how it works Jake, and I know you’re going to hate yourself for this conversation tomorrow.”

“But you’re so hot Ava!” whined Jake, leaning forward again.

Ava couldn’t help but smile, even as she rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “And I appreciate that,” she said, patting his arm. “But seriously. Back off.” She glanced over his shoulder, eyes suddenly catching Sara who happened to look over at the same time. For a second, Ava wondered whether it was worth giving Sara the look to help her slink out of this situation. They were surrounded by dozens of people, so Ava knew Jake wasn’t going to get handsy or violent, knew he also wasn’t that kind of person anyway and he was drunk out of mind so she could almost definitely handle him on her own. But then, Sara mouthed “You good?” and Ava caved. She shook her head, jerking it in Jake’s direction and Sara caught on immediately. Ava saw her cut her conversation with the girl in front of her short before crossing the room to reach Ava and Jake in the kitchen, ducking under Jake and wrapping both arms around Ava’s waist.

“Hey babe,” she said, pressing an abrupt kiss to Ava’s cheek and Ava’s throat went dry. “Was wondering where you were!”

“Jake and I were just talking,” said Ava, quickly catching on and raising a challenging eyebrow to Jake. Jake, who was either so out of it or bless his soul, just somehow didn’t get it , and replied with “Sara! Tell Ava she’s gotta give me a shot!”

Sara’s eyes flickered to Ava, raising her eyebrows. Ava couldn’t help but snort with laughter at the incredulous expression on her face.

“Jake, I’d really like to think you’re smarter than this,” said Sara. “Please tell me you’re smarter than this.”

“Are you saying she’s outta my league?” demanded Jake, insistent now as he folded his arms defensively.

Sara’s head dropped to Ava’s shoulder with a quiet huff of “Oh my god .”

“We’re playing a whole different ball game Jake,” said Ava, trying to control her laughter now because for some reason, she was less annoyed about Jake trying to get her in his pants with Sara beside her.

“That’s rude,” said Jake, frowning. “Sara, tell Ava that’s rude. It is right? How do you know if you don’t just try it, like I get you’re gay ‘n all, but if you’ve never -”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” muttered Sara under her breath, turning sharply so that she was standing between Ava and Jake, curling the fingers of one hand into Ava’s top and pulling her forwards. Before Ava could even think about what was happening, before she’d even begun to process that Sara was pulling Ava’s neck down with her free hand and slinking up onto her own toes to meet her halfway, their lips were pressed against each other and Ava’s entire mind went blank because Sara was warm and her body was all hard lines and soft skin pressed up against Ava’s and Ava would have been embarrassed by the muffled noise of approval she let out if she didn’t feel Sara smile in response and pull her just the little bit closer.

All too soon though, Sara broke away, flashing Ava a quick, half apologetic, half cocky smile before whirling around to face Jake with one finger raised. “I swear to god Tremain, if you say something along the lines of that being hot or sexy or anything even slightly similar, I will hurt you. Now I’m going to repeat this again now that you’re in a less cluttered frame of mind. Ava is gay. Gay as in likes girls, not guys, vaginas, not dicks, i.e. nothing about your general anatomy as a male is attractive to her, even though you are, I will admit, objectively an extremely attractive guy. Now, avoid digging yourself an even bigger hole and just wave goodbye so we can all move on with our nights.”

Jake, whose jaw was hanging open, closed his mouth instantly at Sara’s speech, nodded mutely and muttered a quiet “Sorry ‘bout that Ava,” before disappearing into the crowd.

Ava leaned back against the kitchen bench, shaking her head with a disbelieving laugh to cover up the whirling in her head, the constant repeat of Sara Lance just kissed me . Her lips were still tingling and she swore she could still feel Sara’s hand on her neck, even though she could see both Sara’s hands sliding into her back pockets.

“I did not realise that boy was as dumb as he is,” said Sara. “Jesus Christ.”

“He’s a good guy,” said Ava, chuckling at the unamused look Sara gave her. “He is! He’s just really unaware. And was very drunk.”

“Girl says no the first time, you’d think that’d be enough,” muttered Sara, taking Ava’s cup from her hands and taking a large gulp. “Apparently even the ‘I’m gay’ excuse doesn’t work anymore.”

“Yeah well,” said Ava, swallowing. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

Sara shrugged. “What’re friends for?” she said, flashing Ava a smile and Ava felt her brain short circuit because oh no , it wasn’t Sara’s platonic, friendly smile that Ava could deal with. This was her charming smile, her maybe I’m flirting with you smile, the one that Ava had seen countless girls and guys get flustered over and was now making her weak in the knees. She quickly switched her mind back to functional person rather than lesbian disaster , opening her mouth to answer but Sara quickly cut her off, adding a hurried “Also, I’m so sorry for just kissing you. I figured there was no other way he would back off.”

Ava shook her head. “No, it’s okay.”

“I should’ve asked -”

“It’s fine, Sara. Seriously.” Ava gave her an apologetic grimace. “Sorry for interrupting your date.”

Sara’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “My date?”

Ava nodded towards where Sara had been standing before she’d come over to her and Jake. “You and Gwen?”

“ Oh ,” said Sara. “Oh, no, no, no, me and Gwen aren’t on a date. I mean, yeah, we hooked up once when she was doing the whole experimenting with sexuality thing, but while it did make her realise she was bi, she also realised she was still in love with her ex Art. So. We’re just friends.”

“Oh,” said Ava, blinking, ignoring how happy she was at the fact that Sara wasn’t actually on a date tonight. “Right.”

“Soooo,” said Sara, leaning sideways against the bench and stepping into Ava’s space. “You said that it was fine. That I kissed you.”

“It was,” said Ava quickly, hoping desperately that Sara wouldn’t notice the way her heart rate increased exponentially at her closeness.

“Fine as in ‘you understand why I did it’, or fine as in ‘I crossed a line but you don’t wanna say anything’,” said Sara, raising an eyebrow.

“I … the first,” said Ava, feeling a low jolt in her stomach as a sly smile flickered across Sara’s face.

“So if I was to do it again?” asked Sara, her voice suddenly lower and huskier and if regular, not-kind-of-drunk-and-not-currently-charmed-by-Sara-Lance Ava Sharpe could see this right now, Ava knew she would slap herself, but she could deal with that later.

“I uh … I wouldn’t mind,” she managed to stammer out.

Sara’s expression morphed into an oh really? , and before Ava could swallow, or at least attempt to compose herself into a more functional human being and justify her absolute lack of filter currently (blaming the alcohol, of course, not that she was a gay mess), Sara had eased her cup out of her hand, placed it on the bench and pulled her in for another kiss, slowly enough that Ava had more than enough time to change her mind. At least somewhat prepared this time, Ava instinctively moved to curl her fingers into Sara’s shirt, eyes fluttering shut because Sara’s perfume smelt citrusy and her hands were soft on Ava’s neck and cheek, her lips tasted like cherry lip gloss and Ava felt a warmth flicker to life in the base of her stomach. The hand on Ava’s cheek moved, weaving into her hair that was uncharacteristically down and falling over her shoulders. Ava gasped in surprise when Sara’s nails raked lightly over her scalp, felt her body erupt in goosebumps when Sara tugged them closer together and suddenly all Ava could think about was Sara’s body against hers and her tongue in her mouth and the buzz of alcohol in her system and the lightheadedness from everything that was Sara.

Sara, who for all her hookups and one night stands and friends with benefits, was at least one of those decent people who had a primary rule of consent and pulled away momentarily, leaning back to gauge Ava’s reaction. Without realising what she was doing, Ava followed with a soft noise of protest. Her eyes snapped open as she heard herself, cheeks burning. But Sara didn’t have her regular, amused and challenging smirk on her face. Instead, her smile was surprised and affectionate and she reached between them to grasp one of Ava’s hands.

“We could get outta here?” she suggested. “Me, Amaya and Zari’s apartment is a few floors up and they’re both gonna be at this party for at least another couple of hours.”

Get outta here. That’s what you said when you put sex on the table. Ava knew that. She didn’t have very many party hookups or anything, but she was well aware of how this went. And Sara Lance currently wanted to sleep with her. Holy shit.

“I …” Ava flicked on the switch in her brain that reminded her how the fuck to speak. “Yeah. I’d I’d … like that.”

“You sure?” said Sara, and despite the fact that Ava could almost feel the crackling heat between them, there was a gentleness in Sara’s eyes that she didn’t expect, an earnestness to know that Ava was cool.

“I’m sure,” promised Ava.

“How much have you had to drink?” asked Sara. “I don’t wanna … I dunno, take advantage -”

Ava rolled her eyes. “I can handle my alcohol Sara,” she said. “I’m not drunk, I swear. You’re not taking advantage.” She paused, trying to remember how much she’d seen Sara have over the course of the night. “What about you?”

“Designated driver,” said Sara with a smile. “I’m sober.”

Ava refused to admit that Sara taking on some kind of actual responsibility kind of turned her on a little bit, instead asking “Does that mean you need to stick around?”

Sara shrugged. “It’s still early, I bet nobody will wanna go home for a while. I’ll keep my phone on full volume.” Her eyes softened a little. “We don’t have to Aves.”

“I’m not saying no,” said Ava hurriedly, subconsciously tightening her grip on Sara’s hand. “Just wanna make sure.”

Sara ran her thumb lightly over Ava’s knuckles. “Okay. Well I’m down if you are.”

Ava nodded. “Same.”

Sara grinned, the meaningful and mischievous glint in her eyes returning and she turned to leave the kitchen, pulling Ava with her. They weaved seamlessly through the crowd, only stopping once for Sara to tap Nate on the shoulder and tell him to call her if any of their friends needed rides, before tugging Ava out the front door towards the elevator.

Without the hum of the party around them and the bridge of other people, alcohol and purposeful socialising, Ava expected things to turn awkward, but somehow, conversation flowed easily.

“Aren’t you only like, three floors up?” asked Ava when the doors dinged open and Sara dragged them both inside and pressed the button for the 6th floor.

“You want us to take the stairs ?” said Sara, wrinkling her nose.

“It’s healthy!” insisted Ava.

“Yeah, no thanks,” Sara said decidedly, shaking her head. “Plus, in the elevator, I get to do this.” She pulled Ava forwards by the belt loops of her jeans, crashing their mouths back together and Ava was breathless again. Okay, now she got why everyone was stupid crazy for Sara. Because kissing Sara was magic , it was like the entire world fell away and all that remained was them making out against one wall of an elevator, Sara with one arm looped around Ava’s neck and the other still holding her close by her jeans.

For a minute, Ava wondered how likely it was that someone else would want to use the elevator and whether just pulling Sara to the ground here would be such a bad thing because why was it taking so long to travel three fucking floors ?

But then the doors slid open with a loud creak and Sara was leading them down the 6th floor hallway, laughing loudly and eyes twinkling, gaze flickering down to Ava’s lips every couple of seconds in a way that took every ounce of Ava’s self control not to just push her against the wall and scar some poor soul just trying to enjoy their Friday night. Thankfully, they reached Sara’s apartment and she somehow had the presence of mind to find her keys in her back jeans pocket and open the door without a single fumble.

Perhaps even more thankfully (because it gave Ava’s heart a chance to slow a little and her head to screw itself on straight again), Sara’s apartment was so nice that Ava stopped abruptly to admire it.

“What?” said Sara, sounding a little impatient as she tried to pull Ava towards what was assumedly her bedroom.

“This place is amazing,” said Ava, turning on the spot to take it all in. “Why the fuck have I been living in that shitty on campus icebox when you guys all live in this amazing building? Are you kidding me?”

Sara laughed, seemingly resuming some patience and she stepped a little closer back towards Ava. “It is pretty ideal,” she agreed. “Rent’s a bit steep but we all have jobs so we make it work.”

“Know anyone in the building who has a spare room?”

Sara hesitated, before grinning knowingly. “Well. If Z and Amaya actually get their heads out of their asses and realise how fucking in love with each other they are and move into Amaya’s, you can have first dibs on Z’s room.”

“Okay, so operation parent trap, when are we starting it?” said Ava, surprised when Sara let out a full bodied, appreciative laugh.

“We can draw up a plan complete with sticky notes and different coloured string and a colour coded timeline,” she said teasingly, winking. “But I have one condition. We have to be naked, there has to be some form of snacks, and it has to be in there after I have my way with you.” With a smirk, she nodded in the direction of the room furthest away from the living area, its door slightly ajar, and Ava suddenly remembered why she was actually here. Right. Sleeping with Sara. Sara Lance, the hottest person pretty much ever who was giving Ava bedroom eyes and charming smiles and suggestive grins and jesus Ava, why the fuck did you spent at least one full minute admiring the damn apartment of all things -

Sara’s room was equally nice, a mixture between Boho and modern and eclectic. There wasn’t enough stuff for it to feel messy or crowded, but enough that it felt lived in and homely. Two large windows opening out onto a fire escape were on the opposite side of the room to the door, only half covered by a white curtain and the other half letting the glow of moonlight stream into the room. Sara’s bed was pressed up against the wall to the right, a large, cream and brown coloured tapestry of a mountainside hung above it. The wall to the left was brick instead of wallpaper, and Sara had a light wooden desk against it, a pinboard hung above that and Ava saw it covered in photos, notices and reminders. Though there were clothes everywhere, they were neatly folded as though everything had a place. Sara didn’t have nearly as many books as Ava, but certainly enough that Ava was impressed, and the vintage record player and box of vinyls in the corner by Sara’s bed, the approximately 19th century world map on the wall beside them, and the interesting array of international trinkets and souvenirs sitting along one of the bookshelves definitely appealed to the history nerd inside Ava.

“I like your room,” she said, letting Sara shut the door behind them.

“Thanks,” said Sara, leading them away from the doorway. “Sorry it’s a bit messy.”

“It’s fine.”

“I bet your room doesn’t have a single hair out of place,” teased Sara, gently pushing Ava down onto the bed, letting her scoot backwards for a moment before following, straddling Ava’s lap immediately. “Every single item of clothing in the wardrobe, every book on its appropriate shelf, bed made every morning, right?”

“Come and find out yourself sometime,” said Ava before she could stop herself, inwardly kicking herself instantly. This was almost definitely just a one night stand for Sara, another one of her Friday night conquests. Why would it be anything different? Sara Lance didn’t do serious relationships (not in the time that Ava had known her anyway), she didn’t even really do casual relationships. So Ava did not expect Sara’s expression to mellow out into something that looked like pleased surprise, before she murmured “Yeah, I’d like that” and leaned down to kiss her again.

Ava lost herself in Sara’s lips for several moments, in the warmth of fingers slipping under Ava’s shirt, the weight of Sara in her lap, thighs strong and secure around Ava’s hips, the way her breath hitched audibly when Ava let her lips trail down to kiss a path along Sara’s jaw and neck.

Sara leaned back and Ava couldn’t help the quiet “Wow” that slipped out at the look of Sara, disheveled and hair mussed, lips kiss swollen, freckles faintly visible in the moonlight under the makeup. Sara’s eyes sparkled, and she reached out to run her thumb over Ava’s bottom lip.

“Ditto,” she murmured, dropping her hands to her own shirt and pulling it upwards. Ava instinctively moved to help her, catching a flash of the burgundy of Sara’s bralette as her top went flying to the floor. Immediately, Ava’s hands went to Sara’s sides as she closed the gap between them and kissed her again, fingers trailing lightly down Sara’s soft, freckled skin, pausing abruptly when they reached her stomach because wait a second. The muscles there were … wait, did Sara have -

Ava broke away, eyes flickering down and her jaw dropping open.

Oh no. This was not fair.

She’d sort of expected Sara to have abs because she knew from snapchat stories that Sara worked out regularly, went to martial arts classes weekly with Amaya, and Ava had even seen Sara running a similar track as her in the mornings every once in a while. But Sara didn’t just have abs.

Sara had a goddamn six pack. All hard lines and clear edges and literally defined enough that Ava was 90% sure you could grate cheese on them or something and oh Jesus Christ she even had the V leading down to her hips and Ava bit back a groan because was too fucking gay to deal with this usually, let alone deal with this as it sat half naked in her lap. She moved to scoot backwards some more on the bed, aiming to reach the headboard so she could lean back and pull Sara forward into her lap. But it turned out that when she’d first clambered onto the bed, she had seated herself on an odd diagonal so instead of lining herself up with the headboard, Ava suddenly found herself falling off the edge of the bed, yelping ungracefully and landing with a loud thump onto the floor, her head slamming against something sharp sticking out from under Sara’s bed.

Sara, with her stupid martial arts reflexes, had managed to roll of Ava’s lap in time to avoid getting pulled to the ground too, and immediately burst out laughing. Ava would have appreciated the sound (because she really, really liked Sara’s laugh) but her head was throbbing painfully and the room was spinning a little and she let out a quiet curse under her breath before adding “ Fuck , that hurt.”

“Are you okay?” asked Sara, still chuckling as she slid down to sit in front of Ava on the floor.

“I think so,” said Ava, squeezing her eyes shut so the room wasn’t a blur as she sat up. “Ow, I hit my head -”

“Holy shit , Ava!” All amusement had disappeared from Sara’s voice and was replaced by overwhelming concern, and Ava suddenly felt one of Sara’s hands on her shoulder, the other touching the side of her head gently.

“Ow!” hissed Ava as the action sent a piercing pain to the spot Sara had touched, and she opened her eyes to see Sara’s blue ones wide with worry. “What is it?”

Sara raised her hand between them and Ava caught sight of her fingers stained red, her stomach jolting as she realised it was her blood.

“Oh,” she croaked. “Crap.” She closed her eyes again as her vision blurred. “I think I might have a concussion.”

“Jesus,” muttered Sara. “What did you hit your head on?”

“I don’t know, something sharp?” Ava felt the hand on her shoulder drop to her thigh, squeezing as gentle reassurance as Sara leaned over her to feel around for where she’d fallen, hearing her triumphant and curious gasp when her hands assumedly found the culprit. “What was it?”

“It’s this Arabic decorative knife my ex gave me years ago,” said Sara. “I’ve been looking for it for months - I’m pretty sure Constantine hid it as a joke the last time he was here. I’m so sorry Ava, I really should’ve looked harder, that cut looks bad -”

“It’s not your fault,” mumbled Ava. “I’m the clumsy dumbass who fell off the damn bed.” She purposefully neglected to mention that she’d been so distracted by Sara’s abs that she’d been blind to everything else, including how close she was to the edge of the bed. “Can you pass me my phone?”

She felt the warmth of Sara by her side disappear momentarily before it returned, this time closer than before and when Ava opened her eyes (with great effort) to take her phone from Sara, she was almost surprised at the fact that Sara was practically sitting on her lap again and Ava pointedly avoided looking at her abdomen. Her face was inches from Ava’s and her eyes raked worriedly over the wound on Ava’s forehead.

“It’s bleeding a lot,” she said. “What are you, a freakin haemophiliac?”

Ava tried to raise an eyebrow before wincing at the tug of pain it brought. “Why is that the first thing you think of? It’s probably just a deep cut, that knife was sharp! Are you sure it’s just decorative?”

Sara grimaced sheepishly. “I mean, I might have used it once or twice when I was learning how to throw knives. But that was at least a couple years ago, I didn’t think it would still be that sharp!” The defensiveness in her expression softened slightly and she carefully brushed some of Ava’s hair away from the cut. “And … Nate’s a haemophiliac. I’m used to telling him off for putting himself in situations where he could get hurt and cut himself somehow. Sorry, it’s instinctive.”

Ava couldn’t help but grin wryly. “It’s okay. I actually kind of appreciate it right now.” She managed to find the concentration to unlock her phone and find the Uber app, inadvertently leaning into Sara who thankfully didn’t seem to mind and was carefully gathering Ava’s hair to keep it from getting stuck in the cut. Sara only spoke when she caught sight of what Ava was doing.

“Wait, why the fuck are you calling an Uber?”

“To go to the hospital?” said Ava, trying not to frown because she knew it would hurt.

Sara scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll drive you.”

“You’re sober driving your friends home tonight,” argued Ava.

“Yeah well,” said Sara. “You’ve been drinking, you need a ride somewhere, I’m sober and we’re friends. So technically, I’m doing my job.” She shuffled off Ava’s lap, curling her hands around both of Ava’s wrists and gently helping her up to sit on the edge of the bed. “Gimme a minute okay? I’m gonna get a wet towel for your head and just grab a jacket and my wallet and stuff.”

“Sara, you don’t have to do this,” Ava tried to insist but she was starting to feel the adrenaline wear off and the pain kick in, and the way Sara was looking after her felt kind of nice.

“Don’t be stupid Aves,” said Sara, rolling her eyes and Ava was surprised when she pressed a kiss to her forehead.

For a long time, Ava had been convinced that Sara was reckless, spontaneous and irresponsible, only ever thinking about herself and how to have a good time. Ava wasn’t sure how she had gotten it all so wrong. She’d wondered about it ever since the day Sara had been so kind and gentle to Gary before their midterm, had been surprised around a month later when Sara had showed up to their Thursday morning Revolutionary Empires class with coffees for Nate, Wally and Mick who had gone partying the night before and now had impressive hangovers. She’d heard people talk about how much Sara Lance protected her friends, but it wasn’t until now - until realising that Sara actively watched Nate to keep him from being fatally injured, until she worried over Ava and insisted on driving her to the hospital - that Ava realised that she was literally the mom-friend. God, how had she been so, so mistaken about Sara?

“Hey,” said Sara quietly, and Ava felt a hand tilt her chin upwards gently. “Have you got a jacket?”

“No, I think I left it at Nate’s,” said Ava, noticing that Sara had tugged on a grey Central City Star Labs sweatshirt that she was pretty sure had once belonged to Wally.

“You can borrow this,” said Sara, grabbing a camel coloured hoodie lined with fake sheepskin and carefully coaxing Ava into pulling it on, crouching in front of her to zip it up. “Here’s a warm towel - put it on your head, okay?”

Ava couldn’t help but be grateful that Sara was taking her to the hospital rather than some random Uber driver. The hospital wasn’t exactly nearby but Sara was expertly calm, didn’t even break the speed limit, easily engaged Ava in conversation to keep her awake and talking during the drive, and when the chatter lulled and Ava found herself drifting off to sleep, she immediately felt Sara’s hand on her thigh, shaking her awake, smiling warmly, her eyes tinged with concern as she murmured “Almost there Aves.”

Thankfully, the ER seemed to be having a quiet night. (Ava guessed it was because it wasn’t yet 11pm, so the steady stream of drunks getting themselves in stupid situations hadn’t started rolling in yet.) A doctor was available to see Ava within twenty minutes of them arriving at the hospital, examining the wound carefully and announcing she needed four stitches and a tetanus shot, just in case (and, to both of their relief, she didn’t actually have a concussion). Ava wanted to tell Sara that she could go if she wanted, could head back in case her friends needed rides or if she just wanted to do something else with her night that wasn’t looking after a failed hookup who was dumb enough to almost knock herself out in bed. But Sara’s thumb was rubbing gentle, comforting circles into the base of Ava’s spine, Sara was giving Ava a small, slightly teasing smile everytime Ava looked over at her, and Ava really, really just wanted her to stay.

So she selfishly kept her mouth shut.

And Sara stayed, didn’t once mention having to go back to the party, never used any excuse - plausible or otherwise - to leave, just kept Ava distracted and cracked jokes and even indulged Ava with brainstorming about their current assignments. With every passing moment, Ava saw the little amount that she liked Sara quadruple, watched it multiply until she realised with a sickening ache in her chest, that she had a full on, proper, heartbreakingly pathetic crush on Sara Lance, along with half the other people in their classes.

They were back on the highway, halfway to the city before Sara glanced over to the passenger seat and asked “Do you want to stay at my place tonight?”

It took every ounce of Ava’s self control not to blurt out yes , because God did she want to. She wanted to be back in that gorgeous apartment, that bedroom that was so uniquely Sara, spend the night in a bed that didn’t make Ava’s back hurt in a building that actually had functioning heating, wake up and maybe make waffles or pancakes, binge watch something on Netflix with Sara, Amaya and Zari. But in the span of one night, Ava was falling hard and she knew Sara was probably just asking because she felt responsible, so she shook her head and murmured “No, it’s okay. Thank you though. I really should just head home.”

Sara had insisted on walking Ava up to her door, forced her to use the elevator and not take the stairs (although Ava wasn’t sure she was capable of 7 flights of stairs right now anyway). When they reached Ava’s apartment, Sara snatched Ava’s phone suddenly and immediately went to add a new contact.

“Text me tomorrow okay?” she said without looking up. “So I know you’re alright.”

“I will,” said Ava, biting her lip nervously. “I’m so sorry about all this.” Her cheeks burned. The alcohol had completely worn off, as had any remnants of adrenaline as well as the distraction the pain had provided. Now, all she that was left was embarrassment and too many fresh feelings that she didn’t know what to do with.

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” said Sara firmly. “You best believe I’m gonna give Constantine so much shit for messing with my stuff. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She reached up, gently running her thumb over the bandage that covered Ava’s stitches before slinking onto her toes and kissing Ava briefly. It took an unreal amount of self control for Ava not to tug Sara into her gross, Arctic-like apartment and try to pick up where they had left off.

Instead, she murmured a quiet “thank you”, promised to text Sara tomorrow and waved goodbye before unlocking her front door and spending far too long lying on her bed and feeling sorry for herself until she eventually fell asleep.

Ava could tell Sara was trying to make conversation after she texted confirmation that she was okay the next day, but the humiliation overshadowed her hopefulness that Sara would have any interest in anything more than some eventual hookup (that would actually end in sex this time). And as much as Ava wanted another shot at last night, the added feelings suddenly made everything more complicated, so Ava reluctantly let the conversation trail off and avoided making any attempts to contact Sara herself.

When Monday came around, she gave Sara a curt smile but kept their pre-class chatter short, sat next to Gary instead and left as soon as they were dismissed, hurrying to the library and ignoring the clear attempts Sara was making to talk to her. She continued that tactic throughout the week, hoping that maybe, just maybe, sustained distance from Sara would make this stupid, inconvenient crush just disappear. It was easier to ignore her than she expected - three of their shared classes were recorded for disability purposes, at this point Constantine (and Gary) were their only mutual friends so all Ava had to do was slink away to spend more time with her other friends, and start running at night instead of the morning so she wouldn’t run into Sara accidentally, and somehow, almost a week and a half passed where the only times Ava saw Sara was in Colonial Literature and briefly around campus.

Which was good.

Her agonising over the mortifying events of that night had dropped down from occupying her thoughts 94% of the time to maybe around 20% instead, which Ava figured meant she was slowly but surely getting over it. (And hopefully slowly but surely getting over Sara. Because a crush on Sara Lance was by far one of the most sad and pathetic things to have ever happened to her in her almost 21 years on this planet).

But in the same way that liking Sara a ‘little’ had gone out the window the minute Sara had kissed her that night, getting over Sara also went entirely to shit the minute Sara ambushed her outside after their Tuesday afternoon Colonial Lit class, arms crossed over her chest, looking oddly intimidating even though Ava towered over her, and her eyes flashed with an an unexpected vulnerability despite her fierce expression.

“I need to go,” Ava weakly tried to argue, but Sara shook her head.

“No you don’t,” she interrupted, fire blazing in her eyes. “I know this is your last class for the day, I know you and Gary usually go study at that coffee shop by the Science department and he’s got a movie date with Constantine this afternoon so no Ava, you’ve got nowhere you need to be.”

“What, are you stalking me?” Ava snapped, regretting it instantly at the way Sara stepped back a little at the harsh tone to Ava’s voice.

“No,” said Sara, quieter this time. “I just thought we were …” She paused, something resembling defeat flickering across her face before she rubbed her eyes tiredly with her hands. “I don’t know Ava, I thought we were friends !”

Ava felt the breath whoosh out from her lungs and all the fight in her deflated. “We … we are.”

“Are we?” Sara shot back. “Because you’ve kind of been ignoring me for the past week Ava, and I’m pretty sure friends actually communicate when something is wrong instead of just acting like we’re still in high school and holding some stupid, unspoken grudge!”

“I’m not holding a grudge!” insisted Ava, instinctively stepping forward towards Sara.

“Oh?” said Sara disbelievingly, raising a challenging eyebrow. “I’d call avoiding sitting with me in any class, not going to classes you can watch from home, ignoring all my texts, and even changing when you go for a run so you don’t have to see me, holding a grudge.”

Ava’s throat went a little dry. Sara had noticed? Did that mean she cared enough to notice, did that mean -

No.

Because Sara was that kind of person anyway, was that kind of friend (emphasis on the word friend ) and Ava had learned that clearly That Night. Just because Sara had noticed Ava pulling away, all the way down to the time of the day she’d gone running, didn’t mean she reciprocated any of Ava’s stupid, less than platonic feelings.

“I’m not holding a grudge,” said Ava again, but it came out less defiant and sure than before. “I just … feel bad. For screwing up your night the other week. It was … it was embarrassing and stupid and I …” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I was humiliated Sara, and I thought that it would be less embarrassing if I just, I dunno, pretended it hadn’t happened.” She braved a look at Sara’s face, stomach jolting when she found an unreadable expression there.

“Do … do you want to pretend it hadn’t happened?” asked Sara carefully.

“Me almost smacking my head open and needing four stitches?” said Ava, scoffing with bitter laughter. “Uh, yeah. ”

“Not the hitting your head and going to hospital part,” said Sara, her poker face slipping for the briefest of seconds when she worried her bottom lip with her teeth nervously. “The … the other part. Before that.”

Anxiety flooded Ava’s system because she knew that as soon as she answered this, she was showing Sara her whole hand, there was no bluffing anymore. (Unless she lied). But something about the niggling uncertainty on Sara’s face urged Ava to tell the truth, and she let out a soft “Not at all” before she could stop herself.

Because she didn’t. There was no way in hell she could ever regret the feeling of Sara’s lips on hers, no chance of wanting to take back how soft Sara’s skin was under her fingertips, how the butterflies took flight in Ava’s stomach when Sara had let out a quiet noise of approval when Ava tugged her shirt off. Ava could never regret the smile on Sara’s face when she’d suggested scheming to set Amaya and Zari up, or the hesitant, pleased surprise Sara had shown when Ava had unintentionally invited Sara to her place at an unknown future date.

Ava had felt more in the few hours she’d spent with Sara that night than she had for any hookup or relationship - serious or casual - she’d had in her three and a half years of college so far. So as much as she was a spiraling, pathetic, mess of emotions and feelings for Sara Lance right now, Ava knew that she could never regret that night, as much as it was ruining her life currently.

There was a split second in which Sara’s eyes scoured Ava’s face, seemingly desperately searching for any sign that Ava wasn’t being entirely truthful, then when she apparently didn’t find any, relief came crashing down on her features and she broke into a wide smile.

“Oh,” she said, letting out a soft, twinkle of a laugh. “Thank god. ”

“Thank god?” Ava echoed. “What … what do you mean? What does that mean?”

“I thought you were avoiding me because you thought you’d made a mistake,” said Sara with a shrug. “You were drinking that night, I wasn’t sure -”

“I told you I was okay,” said Ava.

“Because no drunk person has ever insisted they’re in full control of their actions when they’re actually not,” argued Sara. “I was terrified you thought I’d taken advantage of you.”

“What?” said Ava blankly. “What, no ! I avoided you because I thought you’d -” She stopped, realising suddenly that the explanation she was about to give differed wildly from the one she’d told Sara earlier, in that it was actually the truth. She hoped that maybe Sara hadn’t picked up on it. But it was Sara, so of course she had.

“You thought I’d what?” said Sara, stepping forward and Ava swallowed because she’d purposefully made a point to not be this close to Sara because it reminded of her of how pretty she was and how nice she smelt and how blue her eyes were and how she had so many freckles -

“Nothing,” Ava said far too quickly.

“Uh huh, sure,” said Sara, shaking her head head. “Aves, come on.”

Ava shrugged, roughly pushing her hair from her face and looking away pointedly so she didn’t have to look at Sara’s. “I … I thought you’d rather spend your time with people who don’t get so fucking flustered over you and your dumb six pack that they fall off the bed and end up in the ER instead of actually having a regular one night stand like a normal person.”

Silence hung in the air for several long, moments before Sara let out a loud guffaw, her hand shooting out to curl around Ava’s forearm as she doubled over laughing. Ava felt her ears go hot and cheeks turn red.

“Shut up!” she hissed.

“You … fell … off … the bed … because of my … abs ?” Sara wheezed.

Ava tried to tug her arm away, flushing, but Sara just pulled her closer, laughter dropping down to a soft, affectionate snicker.

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” muttered Ava, finding a spot on her shoe to to stare at.

“Ava,” said Sara, her voice full of warmth and amusement. “ That’s why you’ve been avoiding me the past week? That’s why you were embarrassed?”

Ava gave her a frustrated glare. “Have you seen yourself Sara?”

Sara’s hand squeezed gently around Ava’s arm. “I could ask the same question Aves,” she said, eyes twinkling before she shook her head incredulously. “I don’t understand why you would put so much effort into avoiding me just because you were embarrassed. It’s me , it’s not like I’m anyone special.”

“Only you would think that,” said Ava under her breath. “Sara, literally every person in our faculty is half in love with you. You could hook up with anyone you wanted, why would you pick the disaster of a girl you’re barely even friends with who you had to drive to hospital because she was was too damn gay to handle how hot you are?”

A gleam appeared in Sara’s eyes. “Okay, firstly, you think I’m hot?”

Ava huffed. “I was going to sleep with you, wasn’t I?” She tried to pull away again but Sara tightened her grip, sudden uncertainty flickering into her expression again.

“You thought this was just about hooking up with you?” she asked, her voice softening and growing nervous.

Ava’s chest tightened and she felt her heart start thundering against her ribs at a hundred miles an hour. “I mean … isn’t it?”

Sara swallowed, stepping away abruptly and letting her hand fall back to her side. “No. Of course not. It’s … it’s you Ava, this was never just about a one night stand for me.”

Ava had to stop herself from melting into the ground because there was no fucking way this was happening, not a chance, Sara Lance would never in a million years want her over the endless attractive people fawning over her -

“You like me?” she blurted out. “As in like like me?”

Sara snorted, saying “What, are we in grade school?” before nervously fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves and adding “Yeah Aves. I like like you.” She shrugged, colour rising to her cheeks. “You’re smart and funny and kind and we’re interested in the same things and you’re kickass and really, really gorgeous so … yeah. Why wouldn’t I like you?”

“Because you could have anyone on this campus?” Ava attempted to insist but there was a faint, bubbling feeling in her stomach and for a second she thought she must have knocked herself out that night in Sara’s room and was still unconscious and dreaming literally all of this.

“Even if that is true,” said Sara softly, “I want you.” The same vulnerability from before crept onto her face and she looked down. “But you don’t … I’m not expecting anything, you don’t have to -” She stopped, snapping her eyes shut and breathing out shakily. “If this was just about a one night stand for you, you can go back to avoiding me because that’ll probably be less humiliating for me -”

“No!” said Ava, louder than she had intended and several people looked at them oddly. “No,” she repeated, quieter. “I like you. I didn’t even realise how much until that night and  I just … never even would’ve imagined you felt the same way, and I didn’t want to make things weird or put you in a place where you felt like you had some kind of obligation to me or something.”

Sara let slip a quiet, incredulous scoff, shaking her head. She reached out, taking Ava’s hands in hers and tangling their fingers together, tugging Ava closer. “Aves no. No way. No weirdness, no obligation, just me thinking you’re like, one of the coolest people I’ve ever met and wanting to be around you all the fucking time.”

Ava couldn’t stop her disbelieving laugh and Sara squeezed her hands tightly.

“So,” Sara said, the mischievous glint in her eye only just covering up the raw, overwhelming relief and affection that lurked behind it. “Now that we’ve established that we both have very real feelings for each other, how about a do-over of the other night?”

Ava’s stomach flipped in anticipation, but a soft nagging at the back of her mind made her pause and shake her head. “No,” she said, quickly continuing when a flash of hurt and hesitance appeared on Sara’s face, “not yet. Now that I know this is about more than a one night stand, I wanna do it right.”

A fond smile graced Sara’s features and she beamed. “Yeah. Yeah okay.”

Ava sucked in a sharp breath, smiling to try and dispel the nerves still fluttering through her body. “Dinner? Tonight? I’ll swing by to your place at like, 7, and pick you up?”

Sara bit her lip to try and stop her smile from widening before she nodded. “Okay.” Her eyebrows furrowed with momentary concern. “Are you okay to drive yet?”

Ava rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, no concussion remember?”

There was a couple of seconds of quiet between them, both seemingly searching for any hint that this wasn’t real, trying to process that this was actually happening, that they were going on a date tonight and that their feelings were reciprocated and suddenly the awful rut they’d both had been stuck in for the past week vanished.

“So uh …” Sara’s cheeky smirk returned and she let go of one of Ava’s hands to curl her own into Ava’s shirt. “You’re not asking me out to dinner so you get more time to screw your head on straight so you won’t lose your mind at my abs again, are you?”

Ava glared at her, cheeks flushing. She opened her mouth to vehemently deny it but Sara had her classic, infuriating grin on her face that was all teeth and sparkling blue eyes and adorable dimples and her freckles were so cute and visible in the sunlight that instead of speaking, Ava just found herself pulling Sara forward and crashing their lips together, a surge of victory erupting from her stomach when Sara made a muffled noise of surprise and approval, fingers tightening around Ava’s shirt. It only lasted a few seconds as they both seemed to remember that they were on campus, outside their Colonial Lit classroom where their professor or tutors could appear at any time. Sara pulled away first, only slightly so that her lips still ghosted against Ava’s, and Ava could feel the way they were upturned with amusement.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Sara murmured smugly.

“Shut up, I will take back my dinner offer.”

Sara laughed. “No you won’t.”

Ava wanted to prove her point and do it, actually take it back, but she’d spent all week feeling sorry for herself over a girl she’d been convinced would never like her back, and now here she was, inches away from her, lips still tingling from their kiss and butterflies in her stomach at the idea that she would get to take Sara out to dinner tonight and hopefully get a do-over of last Friday night. So instead, she gave in, wrapped her free arm around Sara’s waist and huffing exasperatedly as she pulled Sara closer and muttered “No, I won’t” before closing the gap between them and kissing Sara again.

(That night, it became Sara’s turn to get flustered, jaw dropping and eyes widening when she pulled Ava’s top off. Ava, between blushing and laughing, thankfully had the presence of mind to keep her hands secure on Sara’s hips, raising a challenging eyebrow as if to say you gonna fall off the bed too or finish what you started last week? Sara just grinned, eyes flickering briefly to Ava’s abs before she leaned close and murmured “You know what Aves? You’d definitely be worth four stitches.”)