Work Text:
“This is such a bad idea,” Ava whispers urgently as Sara tugs her down the hallway. “We’re going to get caught.” Sara rolls her eyes, looking back at her girlfriend and grinning devilishly.
“It’s high school, Aves,” she says. “You don’t have to actually go to every class.” Ava huffs exasperatedly, but her hand stays linked with Sara’s, and she keeps pace as they walk. “Besides, when are you ever going to get this thrill again?” They turn a corner. “No one makes you go to class in college. It’ll take all the fun out of skipping.”
“If by fun you mean anxiety and my mom getting mad at me—“
“I mean the adrenaline rush of knowing you’re not where you’re supposed to be,” Sara says. “But the adrenaline rush of a panic attack works, too.” Ava rolls her eyes, holding back a smile. Sara, of course, notices, and grins back, taking the barely-visible expression as a victory.
They pass one of the physics classrooms, and Sara waves at Nate Heywood through the open door. Nate waves back, eyes widening slightly as he sees Ava beside her. Ava waves as well, uncertainly. She’s not sure if she’s friends with Nate. He parties with Sara a lot, but so do a lot of people who Ava definitely wouldn’t consider friends. But they’ve sat together at lunch a few times, and he’s nice, and Ava doesn’t really have many friends other than Sara, so she waves. Nate grins at her before they pass the classroom entirely and she loses sight of him.
“Babe, where are we even going to go?” Ava says as they step into the commons. Sara looks over her shoulder and shrugs.
“Wherever you want to go.” That gives Ava a moment of pause, even as they make a hurried flight across the commons and out the front doors before a hall monitor can show up. Wherever you want to go. This is the problem with having a girlfriend with absolutely no respect for rules, authority, or any established…well, anything, really: Ava is given a lot of choices. She’s not good with choices; her whole life has been planned out for her since before she can remember. She goes to school, she gets excellent grades, she participates in community service through model United Nations, and fills her other extracurriculars with robotics club and academic decathlon. She’ll apply to exclusively top tier colleges, get a degree in something practical, and go to grad school. She’ll get an excellent, high-paying job, and then…
And then.
Ava’s never given much thought to what happens after. When she’s settled, employed, twenty-something and already finished with all her major goals in life. She’ll be happy, presumably. But what will she do?
It’s not a thought she ever had until she met Sara.
“Where to?” Sara asks as she jiggles the key in the driver’s side door of her old, horribly beaten up Subaru, affectionately nicknamed the Waverider by Sara’s friends and the Deathtrap by Ava. The brakes stop working when it gets too cold; occasionally, the engine will just shut off in the middle of the road. It’s easily the most terrifying vehicle Ava has ever ridden in. It’s also her absolute favorite.
Finally, the lock springs open, and Sara slips into the driver’s seat, reaching across and unlocking the passenger door for Ava. Ava sits down, slams the door behind her, and looks across the car to Sara. Sara is grinning at her, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on her keys in the ignition, waiting to turn them and pray that the engine starts.
“Just start driving,” Ava decides. “We’ll figure it out on the road.” Sara nods. She twists the key.
The engine makes a horrible whining noise and stalls.
“Fuck.” Sara twists the key again. An even worse whining noise grates out from under the hood, accompanied by a few of the gauges on the dashboard going wild.
“Or not,” Ava says. She’s smiling, for some reason. She’s never skipped a class in her life, and here they are in the parking lot, ten minutes after the tardy bell, sitting in a broken car, practically begging a security guard to come outside and catch them.
“Well, that’s anticlimactic.” Sara slumps back into her seat and looks at Ava. “What do we do now?” Another question. Ava thinks about it for a minute, weighing her options. They’re already skipping class. Might as well commit to it.
“Your house,” Ava says. It’s within walking distance, unlike Ava’s, and Sara’s father is guaranteed to be at work. Her sister moved out three years ago, and is halfway across the country at college.
“You don’t wanna run back inside and beg for an excused tardy?” Sara asks.
“Fuck you.” Ava rolls her eyes as Sara laughs. “No, I don’t, but every minute I spend with you, I’m more tempted.”
“Love you, too, Aves.” Sara speaks offhandedly, distracted by something in the rearview mirror. “And hey, we might wanna leave. Like, now.”
“What—“ Ava doesn’t get the chance to finish her question. Sara rips her keys out of the ignition and jumps out the driver’s side door before Ava can process what’s happening. Stunned, Ava copies the motion, climbing out her own door. Sara breaks into a run, headed for the fence on the other end of the parking lot. Ava follows, initially slowly, until she looks across the parking lot to the school and sees a security guard—oh God, it’s Bennett, he knows my parents, he’ll tell them I’m skipping—and swears under her breath before beginning to run as well. Sara is fast, and in truth, probably more athletic than Ava herself, but Ava’s legs are much longer, and she’s only a few feet behind by the time they reach the fence.
Sara vaults the fence easily, in one smooth motion, her tattered Converse catching the chain-link wires and pushing her up and over. Ava follows with marginally less grace, kicking at the fence and stumbling onto the other side. They run, side by side, down the sidewalk, half-laughing, half-panting with adrenaline and exertion. Finally, they come to a stop a few blocks from the school. Sara leans against the fence along the road, breathing heavily, and begins to laugh.
“I hate you so much,” Ava says in between gasps. She leans against the fence beside Sara, pushing her hair away from her face and hoping it isn’t absolutely everywhere. Sara just laughs, hands shaking from adrenaline and mirth as she pushes back her own hair.
“That was so fucking good,” she says once they both catch their breath a bit. “Did you see Bennett’s face?” Ava snorts, and they fall right back into laughing.
“He looked—offended,” she says. “Like, personally attacked.” Sara wheezes with laughter, shaking her head. Her cheeks are rapidly turning red with amusement and the cold November air. Suddenly, Ava realizes that Sara is in nothing but an old, thin t-shirt, while Ava is wrapped in not only a sweater but a jacket. She whips off her jacket and holds it out to Sara, who takes it with a grateful smile in between wheezes.
“I love you,” Sara says when they’ve both caught their breath. She’s wrapped in Ava’s jacket now, the sleeves falling well past her wrists. She smiles up at Ava, who can’t stop herself from leaning in and pressing Sara against the fence, kissing the smile from her face.
“I love you, too,” Ava says when they break apart, resting her forehead against Sara’s. Sara grins, leaning up and kissing her again, briefly this time. “Weren’t we gonna go somewhere?”
“Or we could stay here and make out for the next forty-five minutes.” Sara punctuates the suggestion with another kiss. Ava hums contently at the sensation of Sara’s lips on hers.
“As much as I’d enjoy that…” Ava breathes. “And I really would, believe me…”
“You like that idea?” Sara’s smile turns into a grin: that devilish, confident, I’m-irresistible-and-I-know-it grin.
Instead of answering, Ava kisses her on the forehead. It doesn’t exactly fit the tone of flirty banter, but Ava can’t help it. She has so much affection for Sara, for the way she speaks and thinks and her ridiculous spontaneity, and the way she drags Ava into doing crazy, spur-of-the-moment things like no one else ever has. Maybe skipping class isn’t a big deal to most people, maybe it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but it’s a big deal to Ava. The very idea of it is completely incongruous with everything about how Ava presents herself to the world, but it’s not even a bit out of character for who she is inside.
And Sara knows that. Without ever having to ask, Sara knows that. She knows how to push just enough to make Ava’s heart race, without ever making her uncomfortable, without ever making her feel judged. That’s something Ava has never had before. Every time she thinks about it, about Sara, her chest expands with warmth.
“What was that for?” Sara says, quirking an eyebrow. Ava shakes her head, unable to put the immensity of her feelings into words.
“Let’s go to your house.” That seems to be enough of an answer for Sara, who wraps one hand around one of Ava’s, lacing their fingers together, and begins to walk down the street. They’d run farther than Ava thought. Sara’s house isn’t far.
They walk in silence. Ava is shivering just a bit in the cold, but she doesn’t ask for her jacket back. It looks better on Sara, anyway; the collar turned up against the chill in the air, the sleeve half-covering the hand Ava is holding. Ava doesn’t even try not to stare. Sara probably notices, but she says nothing, so Ava lets her eyes stray back to Sara’s face every few seconds, hungrily taking in everything about her.
They reach Sara’s house just as the cold is beginning to truly bother Ava. Sara makes them hot cider in the kitchen. They go up to Sara’s room, and Ava sits on the bed that is almost as familiar to her as her own, hands wrapped tightly around a warm mug. Sara pulls up some TV show on her laptop, something mindless and lighthearted, and they curl up against the headboard, Sara’s head leaning against Ava’s shoulder. By the time the TV show switches episodes for the third time, both their mugs are empty, sitting on Sara’s bedside table, and Sara is asleep. Her head is on Ava’s collarbone. The laptop rests, ignored, somewhere farther down the bed, the volume so low it’s practically muted. Ava is lying down now, and Sara is curled across her, soft, sleepy breaths puffing against Ava’s skin.
Ava takes a moment to close her eyes and memorize the feeling. She memorizes the whole moment, really: the faint scent of hot cider in the air, the warmth of the room, Sara’s weight on her chest. The overwhelming feeling of safety inside her.
Sara stirs, frowning as she wakes and rolling off of Ava. Ava misses her weight immediately.
“Morning,” Sara says, blinking and wincing against the light. Ava laughs quietly.
“It’s four in the afternoon, babe,” Ava says. “You slept for, like, an hour.”
“I said what I said.” Sara rubs at her eyes and yawns. Ava’s heart does a little thing, a sort of little burst of happiness and love. She’s smiling. When did that happen? “Hey,” Sara says, like she’s greeting Ava in the hallway. She rests her chin on her forearm and looks up at Ava. “How are you?” Ava rolls her eyes. “I’m serious,” Sara says, protesting. “How are you?” Ava considers the question for a moment.
“Do you want to go somewhere?” Sara raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know where. The park, maybe?”
“It’s cold as fuck,” Sara points out.
“So bring a coat,” Ava says. “I can just grab mine back.”
“Hm, nope,” Sara says. “I’m keeping it.” Ava just smiles.
“We don’t have to go,” she says. “But…I don’t know. I wanna go somewhere with you.” Sara rolls up into a sitting position.
“So let’s go,” she says decisively. “Get up, lazybones.”
“You were the one napping.” Ava sits up despite her grumbling, swinging her legs off the bed. Sara stands, walking over to her closet and looking for a coat. Ava watches from her seat on the bed, well aware that she probably looks like a lovestruck idiot. She’s okay with that, really; she is one, after all.
“Alright,” Sara says as she turns around, shrugging a leather jacket on. It’s her less fashionable one, the one that used to belong to her father: real leather, a few sizes too big, much too warm to ever wear indoors. Ava finds it arguably more attractive than Sara’s tight-cut biker jacket. “To the park, you said?”
“To the park.”
The walk to the park is just as quiet as the walk to Sara’s house. Ava’s never had this sort of comfortable silence with anyone before. It feels important, somehow: this ability to just walk with someone, no words necessary; just walking, watching their breath fog up in the cold November air.
“You wanna sit?” Sara asks as they approach a bench. “I’ll get us coffee.” Ava nods, sitting down as Sara walks away, headed for the small coffee stand operated by the park. She leans back into the bench as she waits, taking a long, deep breath and letting it out all at once.
There’s a strange sort of buzzing kicking up across the surface of Ava’s skin. Like her whole body is trembling with static electricity, little waves of prickling sensation scatter out across her skin. She isn’t sure if it’s love or restlessness. Maybe the two are one and the same.
“Hey,” Sara says as she sits down next to Ava and offers her a coffee. Oh, it’s been a few minutes; Ava has been thinking long enough for their coffee to be made. “What are you thinking about?” Ava takes the coffee, holding it in front of her and watching the steam rise through the lid.
“I don’t know,” Ava says, staring at the steam in the air, watching how it mingles with the puffs of fog her breath makes. “Just—leaving, I guess.”
“Leaving?” Sara sips her coffee and raises an eyebrow curiously.
“Yeah.” Ava turns the coffee cup in her hands. “Like, leaving Star City. To go to college or—wherever. Just…going.”
“Do you want to?” Ava looks over at Sara at the question, unsure if she’s being serious, but Sara is looking at her with a quirked, inquisitive eyebrow, not a hint of humor in sight.
“I—yeah,” Ava says. “Yeah, of course I do. Don’t you?” Sara shrugs.
“I don’t know.” She matches Ava’s blank stare for a moment, the steam from her own drink dancing in the crisp air. “This is my home, you know?”
“But isn’t that the whole point of growing up?” Ava says. “Leaving home? Finding something better?”
“I guess I haven’t…really thought about it like that,” Sara says, a hesitant, almost curious note in her voice. “Or—at all, really.”
“Yeah?” Ava waits for Sara to expand on her thoughts, the tone of her voice piquing Ava’s curiosity.
“Yeah.” Sara looks over at Ava, an odd expression on her face, caught somewhere between a smile and and the face she makes when she’s crying. “I guess I don’t really think about the future that much. We have what we have when we have it. That’s all we can control.” Ava is struck by the sudden urge to kiss her, and struck almost immediately afterwards by the knowledge that she can do that.
So she does. Sara’s lips are cold, and she tastes like coffee, but Ava’s are the same, and even if they weren’t, she wouldn’t care.
“I like that,” she says when she pulls away. Sara smiles, amused.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Ava turns the words over in her mind. We have what we have when we have it. She almost wants to repeat them out loud, just to feel them in her mouth, hear them in her own voice. “I like that a lot.”
“I’m glad,” Sara says. “I know it’s sort of contrary to—well, everything about your plans for the future and your early decision college applications and all that shit.”
“That’s why I like it,” Ava says decisively. “Besides, you’re contrary to everything about me, and I love you.” Sara smiles, ducking her head into her coffee cup, a pink flush from more than just the cold dancing across her cheeks. Then she snorts loudly, raising her head and beginning to laugh.
“Okay, you human fucking Valentine’s card,” she says, shaking her head. “Who are you, Ryan Gosling?”
“Is that the only male rom-com actor you’ve heard of?”
“Absolutely,” Sara says with no hesitation. “But my point stands.” Ava scoffs, shaking her head, but she allows a fond smile to spread across her face.
We have what we have when we have it.
Ava has this. This is enough.