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It’s not until their third date that Sara teases Ava about her by-the-book romance strategy.
They've been thrown more curve-balls in three dates than most couples will deal with in their lives, but Ava is a traditional girl. And Ava wore a dress she hates and feels awkward in to impress Sara on their first date and Ava sent a bouquet so lush even Gary balked at it to the Waverider after that first night together, and Ava wrote a calligraphy-ed note on premium naturally aged paper (thanks Time Bureau) five hours after Sara first called her her girlfriend in the middle of night post date #2.
Ava adores a set of rules.
She’s always felt as if she was programmed to follow a playbook; she’s at her best when there’s a plan. So even though most dating and relationship guides are misogynistic and patriarchal, she scours them for rules she can follow to make any girl she sets her sights on, though they are few and far between, understand her intentions.
When Ava Lance likes someone, she wants to make sure they know it.
And pulling someone out of the grip of a demon in another dimension feels pretty declaratory, but Sara Lance still deserves to be wooed.
Ava goes by the book - even after Sara left a handful of 20s on the table of their Star City restaurant as she flaked out on their first date - so she drops three Lincolns, faux carelessly from her right Bureau-issued blazer pocket for the rum floats, as Sara is leading her by her left hand to the Captain’s quarters.
(She’ll find out weeks later that Mick Rory pocketed those bills, even though Gideon informed Sara of the gesture.)
Their second date isn’t Genghis Khan, but it’s also not the axe throwing date Ava meticulously planned, after she bought out the back room of a Seattle bar in the year 2018, on a date that could in no way threaten the timeline.
They instead set down their 2nd-round-of-the-night craft beers with the foam still mostly intact, shortly after a quick, flirty toast to their axe throwing competition, to back up the team as they capture an overly ambitious Napoleonic general in the 14th century.
The Legends don’t need too much help but Ava gets the satisfaction of punching out a combatant after Sara’s ninja moves send him her way, and although she and Sara weren’t originally supposed to be on the mission, probably because Sara’s the captain, they end up - the two of them - securing and processing the soldier onto the time ship brig.
They theoretically could go back to the axe bar without any consequence to the time stream, but after a quick conversation they both agree they’re spent, even though they didn’t expend that much effort on the mission.
When they get to Sara’s captain’s quarters, arguing about the level of detail Ava required in the post-mission paperwork, there are two craft beers with the foam still intact sitting on Sara’s desk. If Ava were a betting woman, which she’s not, she would put her money on Zari and Gideon conspiring to make that happen.
When they decided against continuing Ava’s planned date, it was because they both knew they’d rather exert their remaining energy in Captain Lance’s bed, and Sara has her pinned against her swifter-than-average closing door (thank you Gideon) before all of Ava’s Bureau training can kick in.
Ava lets herself be thoroughly seduced against the door before she gets her wits about her and starts to turn them when she notices the drinks on Sara’s desk. Sara, adorably, whines as Ava points them out, and while her date is quick to dismiss the local-to-Green Lake red ales, Ava makes sure they slow down enough to enjoy them.
They re-toast their second round - to a successful mission and its exemplary captain (to Sara’s chagrin - a cute dimpled ducked head gesture Ava hasn’t seen since she’d asked about her most embarrassing moment on their first date) - and get much further into their glasses than Ava anticipated, about three quarters, flirting and exchanging stories, until Ava is dragging Sara by the rough collar of her 14th century robe over to the surprisingly spacious gray sheets she is quickly becoming familiar with.
Sara convinces Ava to let her plan their 3rd date. Although the first two didn’t go to plan, tradition does state that it is Sara’s turn, and while Ava is still looking for a chance to prove herself, she can’t find a reason to oppose Sara’s arguments.
She asks Sara for as much detail about her plans as she can; while Sara kindly chose an upscale Star City restaurant for their first date, Ava knows all of time and space is fair game for whatever is about to happen tonight.
Sara just keeps telling her to dress so she’s comfortable, and the only times she’s ever been totally comfortable have been fighting with Sara during a mission, or spending the night in Sara’s bed, so she has no idea what that actually means.
Without any friends to turn to, she consults the next best thing: her Pinterest boards.
She knows she’s not going to be comfortable in a dress, and she made such a fool of herself in her first date dress, that she goes for her more authentic suits.
She pairs a bespoke hounds tooth light gray suit with an upscale black sleeveless t-shirt/mock turtleneck and carefully lines up a pair of all-black low top Vans and a pair of sleek black high-heeled Louboutons by her doorway to dress herself up or down as needed.
Two minutes before their agreed-upon time, Sara texted asking her to create a portal into her living room, which is a sweet gesture considering Ava knows the Legends have stolen at least three time couriers from the Bureau.
Ava sets her watch to the appropriate coordinates and watches as Captain Lance comes through with what Ava will soon find out is a pizza and a spring salad in one hand and a not-terrible bottle of red wine in the other, while wearing custom-fit jeans, a graphic t shirt for a brand Ava doesn’t recognize, what Ava suspects is a Gideon-made replica of Ava’s Time Bureau jacket, and a smirk Ava is still exasperated by.
Ava shakes her head and barely gets out an unscripted “you…” before Sara is kicking off her untied-all white Chuck Taylors, and explaining to Ava that she doesn’t want to tempt fate, or space, or time.
That she just wants to share a pizza and a bottle of wine with her girlfriend.
Ava melts and Sara pretends not to notice as she casually pulls plates and glasses from cabinets she’s never seen before.
They eat pizza and drink wine one stool apart at Ava’s kitchen island, while they share childhood stories and giggles. It’s an intimacy Ava doesn’t think she’s ever experienced, even on the nights she spent in Sara’s bed.
As the food and wine dwindles, Sara moves closer and closer, until her face is inches away from Ava’s and she confidently says “Gideon, play something romantic” before Ava dissolves into giggles. Sara is chagrined, an expression Ava has never seen but is committing to memory before Sara, her voice more confident than her expression suggests, says “Alexa, play something romantic” and then Ava is the one squinting and pulling her closed lips to one side in a countenance of defeat.
Sara is laughing, against Ava’s lips until Ava purses them in acquiescence, as Taylor Swift starts to play overhead.
Ava doesn’t have a ‘romantic playlist’ set on any of her music apps, so she assumes it will either auto-generate or choose the most romantic of her most listened-to songs, and she contemplates which of these is more embarrassing until Sara places her hand over her ribs, just under the swell of her right breast, and she realizes she’s already cupping Sara’s jaw with one hand and probably messing up the hairs carefully sculpted under a high ponytail with the other, to the taste of green onions and good merlot, and all thought leaves Ava’s head completely.
She and Sara kiss, gently but with determination, for some indeterminate amount of time. Ava vaguely clocks the fact that a few songs have past before she’s standing, quickly followed by Sara, and slowly backs her into Ava’s state-of-the-art French-door fridge.
Ava loves this about Sara; they’re fairly evenly matched in a fight, but with Sara’s assassin training, she has the edge on Ava 90% of the time, any time Ava is not dedicating all of her senses to tactics. But Sara still lets Ava move them, to take the lead, when they’re alone.
Ava’s hands are making prints on the cold metal of the fridge, for maybe the first time since he’s moved in, on either side of Sara’s head, as Sara’s hands brace her sides, thumbs gently exploring hip bones, when she pulls back, with what she hopes is a sexily confident expression and invites Sara upstairs.
Sara balks and Ava is ready to backtrack into the bumbling adolescent she still feels like she is in romantic situations until Sara is pulling her closer, thumbs pressing hard into the sensitive place in her thighs just below the bones she was tracing, and kisses her.
“I want to go upstairs. I really want to go upstairs.”
Ava laughs at the emphasis on ‘really’ and Sara’s dimples appear at the sound.
“But I thought maybe we can spend some time together alone and without interruptions while we can. We have music and wine and “Alexa dim the lights”.
Ava kisses her cheek and confirms, after nothing changes, “the lights aren’t on any system, babe”. She moves to turn them down after pointing Sara to the chilled cabinet where her red wines are kept.
Sara, efficient as always, is already de-corking the bottle, before Ava comes up behind her, fingers interlacing just below Sara’s abs, in the newly dimmed light.
Sara pours two glasses and turns in Ava’s arms, with Ava’s hand only leaving Sara’s waist to grab it when it's at eye-level. They cheers and Ava nods with an expression of approval at Sara’s choice before they take another sip.
Ava is appreciating the wine and Sara’s closeness in the almost-dark before Sara’s voice pulls her out of her reverie.
“Is this weird?”
“What?”
“Oh no, did I just make it weird?”
“Wha??” Ava puts her glass down and once again wraps both her arms around Sara, about to continue her questions.
Sara drops her head to Ava’s shoulder, in a gesture Ava would love if she couldn’t feel Sara’s brow scrunched up in consternation.
She rubs her back, in what she hopes is a comforting gesture, as she gently whisper's into the side of Sara's head, “What’s going on?”
Sara pulls away, her back against the fridge, and out of Ava’s reach, as she rubs her fists over her eyes and says, uncharacteristically nervously, “I don’t know! I don’t know, okay. I’ve spent my whole adult life just seducing whoever comes into my path across space and time into my bed, or their bed, or a really solid mossy log, or whatever” . She physically shakes the idea out of her head, as she continues, without looking at Ava.
“But we’ve already... It’s different with you. It always has been. And we already did the bed thing, and, Ava…” She finally meets Ava’s eyes as Ava tries to school the bewildered expression off her face, and when her hands instinctively reach out, Ava is holding them within seconds.
“Ava, I. I don’t know. This matters to me, you and I. You matter to me. And I don’t know what that even looks like for me.”
She drops her head again into the space between Ava’s shoulder and neck and Ava cradles it instinctively.
“Honey, it’s okay. I’m not…it’s different for me but I don’t have a ton of experience with this either. And this is different for me too, you and I”.
She tries not to shutter when Sara forcibly exhales and fails.
Sara pulls back and meets her eyes again, her hands at Ava’s waist certain but her expression more unsure than Ava’s ever seen it.
“My parents…when I, when we were kids. We would order pizzas on Fridays and spend the night in the kitchen. There was a boombox my dad kept on the counter just for Fridays - my mom complained about it the whole rest of the week - and we would all eat pizza and then my parents would dance, and when were little me and Laurel, we would force our way into letting us join them, and then we got older and would go watch MTV while they were distracted, and then when I was a teenager I knew it could buy me a few hours to do what I wanted to, so I’d sneak out and then sneak back in and usually they were still just there in the kitchen together. And I’d sneak onto the steps and watch them, just sort of sway…”
She seems to remember herself and pulls back “and that’s weird. Ugh I’m so weird , I’m sorry”
Ava grasps both her forearms before she can pull away completely and cave into herself. She’s trying to portray surety, but she thinks her dorky smile is giving her away more than she’d like.
“It’s not weird. It’s nice. My parents…they did jigsaw puzzles.”
Sara laughs, just as Ava was hoping she would, and Ava can feel it in the shaking of her arms, their one point of contact.
She drops one hand before she exaggeratedly extends it to Sara, “Sara Lance, would you like to dance with me?”
Ava makes sure to put as much sincerity into it as she can, and it must work, because Sara’s posture relaxes again as she moves right into Ava’s space and says “Why Ms. Sharpe, I thought you’d never ask.” with only a little bit of teasing.
Ava expects her to pull them into the traditional dance position, expects Sara to lead, but instead Sara rests both of her forearms on Ava’s shoulders, and looks up at her with an expression that immediately makes Ava picture the girl Sara used to be before the Gambit went down, and her arms are circling Sara’s waist as the synapses that cause that image are still firing.
There’s some soft Sara Bareillies song playing - which does nothing to clear up whether the music waving it’s way around them is from a random playlist or based on her listening habits - and if you had asked Ava two hours ago if it would be awkward middle-school dancing in her own kitchen with Sara Lance, she would have answered in the affirmative, but now it feels as natural as breathing.
Previously, Ava’s mind has only gone blank during her 4th grade spelling bee, and the moment on the floor of Harrah’s Vegas before her ex kissed her for what felt like her first time, or when she’s been drunk, or concussed.
And Ava’s mind isn’t blank now, but it’s a vestige of that blankness. Ava’s mind is calm. Ava’s mind is calm for what may be the first time in her life. All of those inner monologues she’s constantly hearing, they’re not stunned into silence like a fight or flight response. Instead, they’re all just quietly humming “Sara, Sara, Sara’ in harmony with each other.
She and Sara sway for some indeterminate amount of time. The time she keeps so reverently, the inner clock she’s so proud of. None of it can survive in the wake of the the “Sara, Sara, Sara” that’s quietly carving itself into her being, as their bodies move as one in the semi-darkness of the kitchen, and the crescent moon pouring through the back window, and the lights of the cars that never stop rushing down even residential streets on a Friday night in D.C.
She and Sara talk, and they laugh, and they finish that second bottle of wine. And at some point Ava gets twirled, and at another Sara gets dipped, but mostly they just sway, until Sara’s forehead finds itself to Ava’s shoulder again. Not out of embarrassment, but merely seeking out the closest place to rest.
Ava asks her again, amidst the background of another Sara Barellies song - dammit this is based on her listening history - if she wants to go upstairs and this time Sara doesn’t put up a fight.
God, there was a time, not that long ago, when Ava couldn’t imagine Sara Lance doing anything without a fight.
Ava guides her upstairs, and walks her through a facsimile of a nighttime routine, with a brand new toothbrush ready even though Ava’s never had any guests in this apartment, until Sara is sprawled in Ava’s bed in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, lazily but intently gazing at Ava as she removes the bra from under her shirt before she settles next to Sara in only her top and underwear.
It’s the first time they sleep together without having sex.
And in the morning Sara will wake Ava up, lacking any of the vulnerability she showed the night before, but instead teasing her about the fact even in the absurdity of their situation, their first few dates have probably hit all of the bullet points set forth by Emily Post.
And Ava would complain, remind Sara of the fact that last night was completely a 100% Lance event, if Sara wasn’t kissing down her torso talking about the coffee shop a few blocks away Nate demanded they visit for scones and lattes.
And then Sara will stop to rest her chin against Ava's pelvic bone, looking up at her with the tiniest bit of mischief in her eyes, above dimples and a smile that shows all her teeth, while Ava thinks that this isn’t just something real, this is something permanent, before Sara continues her journey south and Ava’s mind goes blank except for the quiet thrum of “Sara, Sara, Sara”.