Work Text:
i.
Sara isn’t sure what’s got into her. She’s never normally like this, never normally stammering sentences out in the hopes of saying something vaguely coherent.
There’s just something about Ava that changes everything, and now that she’s admitted that to herself, it’s hard to stay composed.
She’s all ready to launch into a speech, to invite her over, to start something, and then Ava admits that she was about to call Sara, and that’s all it takes to knock all of her composure away.
Just the knowledge that Ava was already thinking about her is enough to stop her in her tracks.
It shouldn’t be that easy. She’s the Captain. People look to her for leadership, and for good reason. There’s no logical reason that hearing Ava was about to call her should affect her in the way that it does, and yet she’s there, stumbling over her words.
Of course, Ava has to ruin everything, ruin the moment by making it a business call, by making it about Rip. She acts like she hadn’t all but fallen apart under Sara’s flirtation just that morning, and Sara doesn’t know how she does it.
She could use some tips on hiding her emotions. Now that she’s admitted that they’re there, (to herself, if not to anyone else) it feels like they’re worn on her sleeve. It’s uncomfortable. She doesn’t like feeling vulnerable like this.
And, yet, she knows that, at some point, she has to open up.
But not today. Ava has given her an out, and she takes it. She can drag this out a little longer, let this sit for a little more time. Because Ava’s not going anywhere, not if Sara can help it.
She’ll be there when Sara’s ready.
At least, Sara has to hope that she will be.
ii.
Just because she’s not going to take the next step yet doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want to talk to Ava.
Quite the opposite. They finish a mission, and all Sara wants to do is call her, so she does.
Ava answers almost immediately. Her face softens when she sees who it is, and Sara’s heart almost breaks.
“Sara!”
“Hey.” Sara sits down against the table in the library, her eyes scanning Ava’s face. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” Ava pauses. “Did you want something? Because I haven’t been able to find out anything about Rip yet - I would’ve called if I had.”
“No reason,” Sara says.
“Oh,” Ava says, her expression confused. “Do we do that now? Talk for no reason?”
“Looks like it,” Sara replies.
It wasn’t exactly like it was a new thing. Ava had called her the other day just to talk. But maybe admitting it was a new thing. Admitting that this was something they did now.
“Oh. Cool,” Ava says, but she doesn’t sound cool at all. A hand goes to her neck, fingers pressing in nervously. It’s adorable. Sara wishes that she was actually in front of her, not just a picture on a screen, wishes she could stop those fingers with hers.
Ava glances off to the side, her expression still twisted.
“Do you need to do something?” Sara asks, suddenly worried. “I can call back.”
Ava’s head snaps back around, and an apologetic smile breaks on her face.
“No. No. Sorry. I just thought I heard someone at my door.” She sits back, and something shifts - her body relaxes. Ava takes a deep breath. “I’m all yours.”
All it takes are a few words. Sara’s chest tightens.
Why does it sound so much like that one statement, said ostensibly so casually, was a leap of faith?
And then they’re just talking. Sara tells Ava about the mission. Ava only makes one or two comments about how they approached it, how they could’ve done things better, and Sara doesn’t even care anymore, doesn’t see it as an insult like she used to.
Ava is usually right, anyway.
Ava tells her about her day. It’s mainly just Bureau business, but then she tells a story about something funny a coworker did at lunch, and she laughs, her eyes bright, and Sara feels a sudden rush of endearment. It's a reminder that Ava’s a real person, not just the cardboard cutout that she’d seemed like, that she'd acted like the first few times they met, and Sara wants to know everything, and more.
Sara wants Ava to open up.
Sara wants to be the sort of person that could open up in return.
They talk until someone really does knock at Ava’s door. When Ava cuts her off, says goodbye, it’s with a smile that keeps Sara up that night.
iii.
It is Ava who calls next, her face flashing up on the console. Sara almost trips over herself trying to accept the call. It’s been a while.
(It’s been three days, and Sara’s had this ache in the pit of her stomach the whole time.)
She’s falling, fast, but all she's letting herself do is talk, because these things always end badly.
But it’s so easy to forget that when she looks at Ava’s face, open and inviting and looking so much like she wouldn’t possibly let things go downhill.
Sara settles down in her bunk, her tablet in her hand.
“Is that your bed?” Ava asks, and somehow, there is nothing but curiosity behind the words. She’s composed, and Sara wants to ruin that.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she replies, raising an eyebrow, and watches as Ava flushes pink.
Her satisfaction is short-lived, because Ava, after a brief pause, manages to say, “Maybe,” her eyes dropping low and her voice dropping lower, and that’s all it takes for Sara’s heart rate to speed up more than it should, more than can be healthy.
It’s an opening. Sara could take it. She is almost certain that if she asked, if she just put it into words, that Ava would use that damn courier of hers, and turn up right there, job be damned.
She could be back before anyone knew. It would be so easy. All Sara would have to do is ask.
She doesn’t, though. She just laughs it away, trying to hide the blush rising on her own cheeks, and changes the subject completely, talks about their mission or the team or the ship or anything that stops her from thinking about Ava there, under her hands.
Ava doesn’t push it, and Sara’s thankful. She’s not sure she would’ve been able to keep talking if she had.
Instead, Ava keeps talking, and Sara just listens, watches, keeps watching, keeps learning every line of Ava’s face, until she realises that she hadn’t heard a word that Ava had said in the past thirty seconds, that she had zoned out completely.
Ava calls her out on this, and all Sara can think to say is, “You’re beautiful,” because that was the only thing in her mind at that moment, her brain completely consumed.
Ava falls apart a little bit in front of Sara’s eyes, and it almost feels mean, like she’s teasing, but she’s not, not anymore, not for a while.
Sara just hopes Ava knows that, that this isn’t a game anymore, that she’s just trying to wait for the right time and the right place and the right feeling.
iv.
Ava picks up her call and she’s not at the Bureau. The wall behind her is not harsh white and chrome, but, instead, a softer cream colour.
“Are you at home?”
“Is that strange?” Ava asks, scrunching up her nose.
“No. I mean. Kinda,” Sara says. Her eyes scan the screen for any hint she can get about Ava’s life from what she can see, but the light is low, and, even if there was anything she could see, it’s hard to drag her gaze away from Ava’s face. “A little bit. I guess I just always imagine you at work.”
“It’s not like these calls are work related anymore,” Ava says, lightly, and that is painfully true. They are the furthest from work related they could get. They don’t even discuss missions anymore, don’t discuss Bureau activity. They just talk.
Sure, sometimes the team comes up. Sometimes Ava’s colleagues come up. But they have become incidental; a side note.
They have so much more to talk about than work.
At some point, Ava gets up, propping whatever she is using to call Sara up, and she moves away from the camera, her voice getting more distant. She comes back with food, apologising. “I’m sorry. I’m starving.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” Sara says, and the opportunity is right there to invite her out - to dinner or drinks or something. Anything.
But she doesn’t.
She is silent too long, because when Ava speaks again, it’s to say, “You look stressed. What’s on your mind?”
Sara can’t say what’s really bothering her, can’t say that, not yet, so instead she waves it away. The worry in Ava’s eyes doesn’t disappear. Sara shifts. Ava knows her, and she wants more than anything to just give in. To make these calls something more.
But there is always that lingering thought in the back of her mind.
They talk until both of them need to sleep, time getting away from them. Time is always getting away from them. It doesn’t seem fair that, even as time travelers, they can never quite escape it.
v.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Ava’s voice is soft.
“Is now a good time?” Sara asks.
“It’s always a good time,” Ava says, and Sara’s stomach twists. “That’s the good thing about being the boss. I do what I want. I just tell Gary I have a meeting if I need to.”
And what you want is to be talking to me, Sara thinks, and though it’s hardly a revelation, hardly anything at all after all these calls, it still feels like something.
“Must be nice.”
“You know, unless I’ve been mistaken for a while, I thought you were also the boss, Captain,” Ava says, laughing.
“Sure. In theory. In reality, I spend all my time chasing round after these guys. I can’t do what I want because nobody does what I need them to do. I’m just constantly having to be bad cop.”
“That’s not so bad,” Ava says.
“Yeah, but I feel like you get a kick out of ordering people around,” Sara says, laughing.
Ava just raises an eyebrow. “And you don’t?”
“Sure. Maybe.” Sara sighs. “But sometimes I just want some privacy. Time where I don't have to think about them for a while. Something to take my mind off it all.”
Ava pauses for a second, then says, “Maybe I should come over?”
This throws Sara for a loop. It’s all but an outright offer, and all she wants to do is say yes, and then her mouth is saying no - not in as many words, but she’s saying no, she’s turning Ava down.
Because that’s what that was. She’s turning her down, and when Ava realises this, she stumbles over her words as well, a hand going to her neck, her gaze low, and Sara hates her mouth, hates her brain, hates every part of her but her heart.
She hates the part of her that is still worried about every single thing that could go wrong, hates the part of her that doesn’t let her think about all the things that could go right, all the things that would go right if she would just let them happen.
+i.
Ava is talking, and once again, Sara’s hardly listening. Zari’s words are echoing around in her head, echoing around the quiet of the jump ship.
She hears her name, and she snaps out of it, shaking her head as if it will clear the fog in her mind.
Ava is looking at her, worry clear on her face. Her fingers fiddle with a thread on her sleeve.
“Are you okay, Sara? You seem… distracted. You've been off lately.”
“Sorry,” Sara says, quickly.
“Don't be. I wasn't talking about anything particularly interesting.”
“You're always interesting.”
“Even when I'm talking about paperwork?” Ava asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe not then,” Sara says, and she finds herself laughing.
Ava has that effect on her. Lets her relax. She laughs too, the sound calming.
And then Ava's face gets serious again. “Seriously though. Are you okay?” Ava looks down. “Is it something I said?”
“No,” Sara says. "No."
It is Ava’s turn not to listen, ignoring Sara's words. “Did I do something? Was it when I called you from home because if that made you uncomfortable-”
“No, Ava,” Sara says, but Ava’s still not listening, still talking, her voice speeding up. Ava is spiralling, and it's all too much.
“-if that crossed some sort of line then-”
If Sara doesn't say something now then they're both going to regret it. It's not fair on either of them to hold back anymore.
“Do you want to have dinner with me?”
Ava stops, mid-sentence. “What?”
“Are you going to make me say it again?” Sara asks.
“Yes,” Ava says, and there is nothing but disbelief on her face, no mischief, just open shock, like her brain hasn't quite registered what she'd heard.
“Do you want to have dinner?”
“With you?”
“Yes. With me. Although, if you wanted, I'm sure I could get some of the others to come along,” Sara says, twisting around to gesture to the rest of the ship, her tone light.
A smile breaks on Ava’s face, and it's like she's letting go of a breath she's been holding for weeks. “Just you sounds good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”