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She should have known that getting an invitation to the Legend ’s New Year’s Eve party was a mistake.
The idea of even celebrating the New Year when time travel existed and was a thing that they all dealt with on a very real and regular basis seemed absurd enough that Ava had originally turned down all offers from her fellow Time Bureau agents to go out and celebrate.
She had intended to spend the night at home with her cat and a cheap bottle of wine, maybe watching the ball drop on her tv if she’d managed to stay up that late.
It was a good plan.
A solid plan.
One that had kept her steady through her years working with the Time Bureau up until this point, watching another year roll around, a year that growing up had only been a footnote in her history books.
Yet, when Sara had asked her to come join the Waverider crew at some tacky bar in Star City as they let time pass normally for once, she had accepted, foolishly.
But, how could she not, when this was Sara asking.
Sara, who had kissed her that day after they saved Christmas, and then done so much more.
Who had spent the last week just showing up - in her office, in her apartment, in whatever space that Ava occupied - with a smirk on her face that made need pool deep inside Ava until she couldn’t no longer resist, and proceeded to take Sara on whatever flat surface was available.
So maybe she hadn’t been thinking what the worst that could happen was at the time.
A question she probably ought to have dwelled on more.
Because here she was with less than an hour left to midnight, a few too many drinks into the night, feeling more loose and relaxed than she ever has any right to feel, especially not when surrounded by the infamous Legends, when the conversation starts.
It’s simple enough.
Talk of New Year’s resolutions, brought up be Leo, the newest addition to their team and the one that apparently thought talking about emotions was a good idea. Truth be told, Ava hadn’t really been paying much attention when the conversation started, she had sat next to Sara, which had been a recipe for trouble, especially considering how Sara kept rubbing small circles with her fingers into the fabric of Ava’s jeans.
Inching closer and closer to her inner thigh each time she did so.
Ava tries to pay attention as Nate insists his New Year’s resolution is to beat Zari in some video game they all like for once. Which earns a laugh from the table. Ava joins in even though she doesn’t really understand it, because the sound of Sara’s laughter is infectious, and when she leans against Ava’s side there’s nothing she would rather have.
Of course, then it’s Sara turn.
And everything rapidly goes down hill when Sara says, “My New Year’s Resolution is for daddy to fuck me,” punctuating her words by squeezing down on Ava’s thigh.
Like Ava isn’t having a crisis right next to her.
She can feel it, the heat rushing up to her face. Fierce embarrassment, that makes her wish she was anywhere, but there. The bar is dimly lit, but she’s certain there’s no way that the gathered group of them could miss her cheeks coloring up, could miss the way Ava suddenly forgot how to breathe, let alone speak.
She can also feel something else, a tightness lower in her, a need that comes from that word even spoken in jest between them. That makes her throat dry, and her heart thump, with far more than just embarrassment.
There’s another sort of laugh from the group, while Ray shoots her a sympathetic glance (which is almost worse), and Mick raises his glass to clink Sara’s in a toast before downing it.
He’s the one that asks, when they finally calm down, “What about you, pantsuit?”
“I - I’m sorry, I need to go,” she stands up from her stool probably far too quickly, and there’s no way she’s fooling anyone.
But she needs to -
To not be here.
To be anywhere else.
She settles for a destination upon stepping up from the group, the bar’s bathroom a good place, to stop and assess, and maybe open up a Time Portal back to her apartment and rule this whole night off as a loss.
She’s so set in her decision, that she does not notice the sound of someone else leaving the table right after her, following her, the clicking of heels moving fast along the bar floor to catch up with her.
Not until she goes to tug open the door to the one bathroom in this place, and is stopped by Sara physically wedging herself in Ava’s path.
Putting herself between Ava and the door.
The mischievous look from before is gone, replaced with a softer look, one that’s apologetic almost.
“Hey, Aves, I was only teasing,” Sara insists, reaching out to thread her hand through Ava’s, cold to the touch, though that’s probably more due to the fact that Ava’s are burning with a mix embarrassment and want. Her whole body is burning. “They know I was only teasing.”
“I don’t need your whole team to know about -” Ava starts, then stops, voice lower in a whisper even though Sara is the only person close to her, even though there is music playing around them, “- About our sex life.”
Sara blinks at her, confusion on her face. “They know we’re having sex, two days ago you slept over on the Waverider, there’s no way anyone missed that.”
“I know that,” Ava insists, there had been no way to miss the knowing looks on everyone’s faces that morning, no way to gracefully exit that ship. She was aware that Sara’s team of misfits knew that the two of them had fallen into it together.
It was just everything beyond that that Ava didn’t need them to know.
“Wait, is it because I called you daddy because I -” Sara starts to say, and stops, her eyes lingering on Ava’s face.
She’s not certain what he expression is, how it betrays her, but it must, because Sara’s look shifts from apologetic to something else. Something hungrier. A look of want that Ava has started to find herself recognizing.
“Ava?”
The question is there, silent but heavy in the air.
Ava can only jerk her head in a quick nod, not an answer, not really, because her voice will betray her.
“Is that a yes?”
“What else could it possibly be,” Ava asks, slightly exasperated - no, that wasn’t the right word, she was frustrated, a feeling tha Sara left her with far too often.
“You know that’s not how constent works.”
“It’s a yes,” Ava hisses, letting annoyance slip into her voice. Annoyance is something that Ava can handle.
Though it’s just a cover, for what she feels when Sara’s hand shifts, from holding hers to pressing against the pulse point in her wrist, no doubt feeling the quickening of Ava’s heart, a deafening sound in her own ears.
Whatever she finds must satisfy her, because a second later that hand lets go of Ava’s wrist and instead settles over her shoulders, pulling her downwards to meet Sara’s lips. She goes easily, kissing Sara, because this is something she knows how to do.
Sometimes she feels like she could kiss Sara for the rest of her life and never get tired of it.
Though there’s moments where she wants more, where she needs more. Now is one of those moments.
Thankfully she’s not alone in the thought, because when they pull back for air, Sara pushes open the door that she had been blocking moments before, not wasting a moment before tugging Ava inside, and locking in between them.
She’s kissing her a moment later, pressing Ava against the just shut door, heat and passion, that Ava mirrors easily. Her hands tugging at Sara’s layers, pushing her leather jacket down off her shoulder, squeezing her breasts through the fabric of her dress.
Desperate hands moving against desperate bodies, a need for contact.
They break apart briefly so that Ava can tug her sweater over her head, before they’re kissing again, hot and heavy. Ava bites down on Sara’s lip to take control, to get her to gasp out against her, and open her mouth, an invitation for Ava to slip her tongue inside.
There’s a hand down her pants a second later, a poor angle, but Sara presses too fingers against her through her panties and Ava loses her ability to focus on kissing. She breaks the kiss to breath, a shaky sudden thing, and Sara moves her mouth from hers, instead kissing down the curve of Ava’s neck before moving to suck a bruise there.
A part of her wants to stop Sara, the rational part that knows there will be no way to hide that in her Time Bureau pantsuit. Another greater part of her doesn’t care, not when Sara’s managed to work those two fingers finally beneath her panties. Pressing them up against her.
“God, you’re wet.”
“Shut up,” Ava mumbles, but it’s weak and half there.
She can feel Sara’s laugh, a soft fond sound now, against the curve of her neck.
“Let me take care of you, daddy,” Sara says, and it’s that word again, Ava has never been one for pet names, has been strictly against it, but this does something to her. Something she can’t explain.
Sara has a way of awakening new feelings within her that she didn’t even know it was possible to feel.
New kinks.
“I - Sara-”
“Baby,” Sara says, “Call me baby.”
“Please, baby,” Ava says, all but begs.
And there’s another one of those soft laughs, before Sara presses a kiss to the side of her neck, then up to her cheek, then the briefest of presses of lips against her own. Before she pulls back to say, “Just for you, daddy.”
Ava watches as Sara drops to her knees, and easy fluid motion, before properly pulling down Ava’s pants and panties all in one fluid motion so that they pool about her ankles.
She makes a beautiful sight down there between Ava’s legs, all blonde hair and black dress and hungry eyes.
She presses a kiss to the inside of Ava’s thigh. Teasing her, like she had teased her at the table with all the Legends around them.
But Ava doesn’t want to be teased anymore.
Isn’t certain she could handle it.
Using the same voice she uses when giving orders around the Bureau, the hard voice that she knows Sara likes a little too much, she says, “Teasing, isn’t apologizing, baby.”
Sara sucks down on the spot that she had been kissing a moment before, as if to pointedly rile her up.
Ava reaches down to thread a hand through Sara’s hair, tight enough to draw her attention, but just loose enough not to hurt. She knows that she’s made the right decision, when a moan spills out from Sara’s lips, her eyes fluttered closed before a brief moment.
“Baby,” Ava says again, in the same tone she’d used with an agent she’s disappointed in.
And when Sara’s eyes flash open to meet her, she can see that her pupils are blown wide, eyes dark with need.
She loosens her grip a little more, just enough for Sara to moves where she needs to settling her mouth at the juncture between Ava’s legs. Sara’s mouth is warm against her, hot and heavy, and she sucks down on Ava’s clit. The hand she’s not using to hold herself up, moving upwards pinching at Ava’s thigh once in a gentle tease,before slipping two fingers inside of her.
Sara’s good at this.
Ava knows that, they’ve done this before, such that she knows there’s not a chance of lasting very long this way. Not when Sara sets her mind to something. She moves her fingers in and out of Ava at a consistent rhythm, one that matches the movement of her mouth alternating between sucking and lapping at her.
She tries to watch as long as possible, but the feeling is overwhelming, and Ava cannot help but close her eyes, tilting her head backwards so that it thumps hard against the bathroom door. The moans that escape her lips come suddenly and without warning, brought on by a need and desire too powerful to control, a mangled mess of Sara’s name and raw noise.
Distantly outside of the door her head is resting against, she hears the sound of something, of a countdown, loud and sudden, the numbers dropping with each passing second, covering up the noises that Ava can’t help but make.
“It’s almost New Year’s,” she says.
Or tries to say, it comes, off as a broken mumble, a vague noise of a sound that has Sara pulling back from her, just briefly to say, “Then, let’s start the year off right.”
And she does.
Going right back to what she had been doing a moment before, but with renewed fire this time, sucking harder, working her fingers faster. So that Ava is certain that without the door behind her to support her, that she would have lost her ability to stay standing.
Her hand is still in Sara’s hair and she uses it to hold her in place, as her hips buck involuntarily there against her mouth, as she feels the beginnings of her orgasm coming. A feeling that she pushes towards with desperation.
It doesn’t take long, before she feels it, her body tensing, clenching down on Sara’s fingers where they still thrust inside of her. For a second, she swears she hears Sara’s soft laugh again, this one rumbling against her core, but it’s hard to focus on that, when the rolling tide of her orgasm completely overwhelms her a moment later.
There’s a cheering sound outside the door, a sound that she hardly registers, too focused on the feeling of Sara still so close to her, pulling Ava’s pants back up with care, before running her hands up her sides, fingers ghosting across bare skin, warmer now, until they settle over Ava’s shoulders.
When she opens her eyes, Sara is right there in front of her, already pressing up on her toes.
Ava kisses her, because it’s New Year’s, and you’re supposed to kiss the person you love at midnight.
And because it’s Sara.
Because it’s always been Sara.
And it will always be Sara.
It’s a soft kiss, Ava still basking in her own afterglow, everything seems softer now. She can taste herself on Sara’s lips, as that stirs something in her, a soft but still desperate thing. That has her clutching at the fabric of Sara’s dress, rucking in up slightly in her need to pull Sara closer and closer to her.
To consume her.
To take that fire within her and hold it tight.
They break apart, after what seems to be both an eternity and not long enough.
There’s still hunger in Sara’s eyes, and Ava watches as she runs her tongue over her bottom lip before saying, in a voice that is quiet and just for them, seperate from the roaring sound of the bar crowd outside the bathroom door.
“Happy New Year, Ava.”
“Happy New Year, Sara.”