Work Text:
The station had called her.
She’d known the moment the phone had rung, really - having a police captain as a dad would do that to you. She’d gotten used to walking on eggshells years ago, and it was far too late in the evening for a casual call, and Laurel hadn’t texted to say they’d gotten home like she usually did, and… well, something just felt wrong . She’d hugged Laurel goodbye a few hours earlier, promising to invite her round for dinner some time next week, sticking her tongue out at Tommy when he’d laughed and gently teased her about her cooking skills.
( “Ava would cook,” Laurel teased, poking her gently in the stomach. “If you’d join us at her place for dinner sometime.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “We tried that once,” she muttered darkly, and Laurel’s lips twitched. “Just ‘cause she’s Frankie’s other godmother, it doesn’t mean I have to like her.”)
She’d known what that phone call meant before she answered it, fingers numb as the phone slipped to the ground, clattering against the floor she’d never finished carpeting. (Tommy had promised to help, but he’d been busy. Maybe she should tile it instead. Perhaps she’d be able to manage that on her own.)
Even with the phone call playing on loop in her head, the words ‘accident’ and ‘lost control’ and ‘I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry’ echoing over and over and over, the news hadn’t sunk in until she’d walked into the police station to see Ava Sharpe standing there, staring blankly at the door, mascara slightly smudged from the tears that had already fallen. She was so still - frozen in place, unfocused enough that she didn’t seem to register Sara’s presence until she was halfway across the room.
(That was a first. She usually sensed Sara from miles away and had already had a sharp retort prepared for the moment she walked through Laurel and Tommy's front door. But… not today.)
Ava blinked, eyes flickering over to scan Sara’s face, barely acknowledging her. The glare Sara had become so used to receiving whenever she came within 3 feet of her was painfully absent, replaced by a listless, broken expression that Sara instantly knew matched her own. Ava’s hand trembled and she shoved it roughly into her pocket, biting the inside of her lip. Sara absentmindedly mimicked the action, heart twisting in her chest when Ava swallowed, refusing to meet her eyes. She’d known Ava for years, almost as long as Ava had known Laurel, and never once had she seen that insufferable calm, collected exterior of hers collapse.
Not until now.
“Sharpe,” she murmured softly, barely loud enough to be heard over the rain pounding down outside, but Ava looked up, finally meeting her eyes. She shook her head slightly and Sara took a step forward, dropping her bike helmet on a nearby chair and coming to stand in front of her, not sure whether to reach out to her or give her space, unsure where she stood in this unfamiliar territory. They’d never been in this situation before.
Laurel was gone.
Tommy was gone.
An accident, they’d said when they called, sounding apologetic over the phone. They’d mentioned ice, the car rolling, the firemen having to cut the bodies out of the car. (They were dead before anyone got there, she’d been told by a hushed voice, probably by a friend of her dad’s - at least they didn’t suffer, he’d added, and Sara nearly hung up on him before he could continue.
They were still dead though, a bitter voice whispered, an unpleasant hollowness beginning to make a home in her chest. They were still gone.)
“Frankie?” she whispered, barely daring to ask. Ava’s breath left her in a rush.
“She’s okay.”
“I can’t get through to them,” Ava snapped, exasperation and annoyance and worry all rolling into one, voice slightly higher than it should’ve been. “I don’t understand why we can’t see her tonight, it’s - “
Her mouth snapped shut as her voice cracked, and she met Sara’s eyes for a split second before looking away, a fraction too slow to hide the fresh tears beginning to collect in her eyes. Sara swallowed, pushing herself up from the couch and willing her voice to stay even, for Ava’s sake. Sure, she didn’t like her, but still. One of them had to keep it together. “Hey, it’s - I’m sure she’s fine. She’ll be fine.”
Ava didn’t look up, and Sara took a step closer, almost reaching out for her but freezing at the last second, hand hovering awkwardly in mid air before she pulled it back, wrapping her arms tight around her waist. Sara’s stomach twisted unpleasantly.
“Let’s sleep here tonight,” she suggested, pretending she didn’t see the way Ava’s breath left her in a rush. “That way we’re here if they call early.”
Ava crossed her arms in front of her before uncrossing them again, picking up her phone from the table and shoving it roughly into her pocket. There was more to say - so, so much more; but neither of them could quite find the words, not after the whirlwind that’d been the last few hours. Ava nodded stiffly, eyes fixed on the photo from Frankie’s first birthday Laurel had framed on the mantelpiece rather than meeting Sara’s eyes. Sara swallowed again, determined to keep it together, at least until Ava had left the room.
Ava didn’t get to see her fall apart.
“Take the guest bedroom,” she offered, leaving no room for argument, not that Ava would’ve tried to suggest anything else - not tonight. Neither of them had the energy left to fight.
Ava hesitated for a moment before agreeing, but her suggestion of Sara taking Laurel and Tommy’s room was almost enough to make her crack and she shook her head, making her way back over to the couch, sucking in a slow, deep breath and wishing Ava would leave. Ava paused in the doorway, hand lingering on the door frame, an unfamiliar expression crossing her face. She shivered and pulled her jumper tighter around her, and Sara was suddenly struck by just how small she looked. Her throat bobbed and she wavered, uncertain.
“Thank you, Sara.”
She was gone before Sara had a chance to respond.
She’d been pretending all evening. Pretending she was okay, pretending to be holding it together, pretending since the moment she’d walked into that police station earlier and seen Ava leaning against the wall, makeup smudged by the tears she didn’t seem to be able to stop. She’d spent the last few hours trying hopelessly to push her feelings down, pretending she wasn’t exhausted, pretending she couldn’t still see Laurel’s smile etched into her mind, warm and soft and loving.
Laurel, inviting her over for the morning and not even letting her take her coat off before breaking the news that she was pregnant, laughing at Sara’s shocked, excited expression and letting her little sister pull her into a hug. Laurel handing Frankie to her the day she was born, smiling softly and hovering nearby, not quite trusting Sara not to drop her, with Tommy beaming and standing there with his phone in hand, taking more pictures than any of them ever thought they’d need.
Laurel, laughing at her from across the room as she attempted to feed Frankie for the first time, coming over to sit next to her with a cloth, eyes shining as she grinned “you’ve got mashed potato on your cheek.”
Tommy, throwing an arm around her shoulders and excitedly asking her if she wanted to come to a soccer game with him whilst Ava and Laurel took Frankie to the park, or if she wanted to help decorate the nursery as a surprise, or help him assemble the crib.
(And Laurel, pulling her into a hug the last time she left, wrapping her arms tight around Sara’s shoulders, her whispered “see you soon,” not appreciated enough because neither of them knew it was a lie.)
Sara rolled over on the couch, pulling a stuffed duck out from under her, fiddling with it for a moment before dropping it to the floor, hating how loud the soft thud it made sounded in the silent house.
Somehow, the morning was worse. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the gaping hole in her chest where Laurel was supposed to be, maybe it was the way Ava had looked at her when she walked into the kitchen, telling her that Laurel and Tommy’s lawyer was coming over later to sort this mess out before leaving to go tidy up another room, as if Laurel hadn’t kept the house spotless since the day they’d moved in. She rubbed her eyes, glancing back over to the open door.
Ava was different this morning. Yesterday had softened her corners, smoothed out the rough edges which grated against Sara's enough that for a moment, she'd almost wondered why they'd spent years driving Laurel and Tommy up the wall with their disagreements. But today - this Ava… she was familiar. And currently, she was moving methodically around the house with that familiar irritating calmness packing keepsakes into boxes and putting shoes back into cupboards, stopping every so often to glance at the clock as if she was on a schedule, as if this was just another day, another problem she had to deal with.
A muffled sob came from the room next door, and Sara turned the kitchen radio up.
They’d always been too different. Ava was the calm, Sara was the storm. They had never been meant to mix.
“We’ll miss Laurel,” the lawyer informed them, almost clinically, and Sara forced down her bitter response. Ava glared at her as if she’d heard it anyway.
“You must have some questions,” he continued. Sara pushed herself up in her seat, forcing herself to pay attention. Ava smoothed down the sheet of paper in front of her, and Sara pulled her gaze away.
Laurel needed her to pay attention.
“I’ve arranged for Frankie’s transfer, she should be with you both later today” he added unphased, looking slightly bemused at their blank expressions. “I’m sorry - did Laurel and Tommy not talk to you about their guardianship arrangements?”
Guardianship arrangements.
As in… fuck.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Ava. (Well, it was that she didn’t like Ava. But even if she did, this would still be a bad idea.)
“This is ridiculous,” Ava snapped, and Sara found herself nodding, without even realising what she was doing. She couldn’t look after Frankie. She and Ava definitely couldn’t look after Frankie - she was barely managing to look after herself, and Ava was... well, Ava .
They’d done nothing but argue since the day they’d met.
“I know this is a big deal,” the lawyer continued, as if he hadn’t just dropped this news on them, news that neither of them were even remotely prepared for. Sara leaned back, sinking down into her - Laurel’s - chair, watching out of the corner of her eye as Ava clasped her hands under her chin, still shaking her head slightly. “It’s a big commitment.”
A big commitment .
Ava stood up suddenly, chair scraping against the tiled floor of Laurel and Tommy’s kitchen, murmuring an apology under her breath before making her way out of the room, leaving Sara staring at an empty doorway for the second time in the last twenty-four hours.
Shit.
“What if...what if one of us chooses to honour Laurel and Tommy’s wishes?” Ava asked later, fingernails tapping anxiously against the table. “On our own.”
A flare of something defensive shot through Sara and she crossed her arms, sitting up straighter. “Or both of us,” she interrupted, ignoring the glare Ava shot in her direction and looking back to lawyer still sitting opposite, papers still spread across the table. “Hypothetically.”
He reached for a sheet of paper he’d discarded earlier, eyes skimming across the top, muttering something about the estate and the mortgage that Sara automatically tuned out, assuming Ava would relay any important information to her later. Eventually, he nodded, looking back across the table. “Then I suggest the two of you move in here in the interim, for Frankie. Until you sort out what you want to do next.”
It was a terrible idea. They both knew it was a terrible idea. And yet...
(“You want auntie Sara?” Ava asked when they went to pick Frankie up, cradling her to her chest, standing in the middle of the room talking to her best friend’s kid with a lost, slightly helpless look on her face. Sara made her way into the room, taking Frankie from Ava’s arms and cradling her in her own, ignoring the way her heart fluttered when Frankie rested her head against her chest, cries tapering off into gentle sobs. Ava shot a grateful look in her direction, picking up her bag and both of their phones from the desk, holding the door open for Sara on the way out.
“I’ll drive,” Ava murmured softly, cautious about startling Frankie now she’d finally settled. She gave Sara’s arm a light squeeze on the way back to the car, and Sara smiled. Maybe they could do this.
Just for a few weeks.)
“I read that - “ Ava started, and Sara barely managed to contain her groan. “I think we should - “
“We don’t know what we’re doing,” Sara snapped as Ava slammed the cupboard shut, only succeeding in making Frankie cry harder. “You might as well admit it.”
Ava spun round to face her, orange plastic bowl in hand, anger flashing through her eyes. “Why are you so determined not to help her?”
“I’m trying to do what’s best for her,” Sara bit back, leaning against the counter and folding her arms across her waist. Ava scooped whatever she’d been making out of the blender and into the bowl, missing slightly and spilling it on the counter.
Sara gestured roughly between them “you really think this is what’s best for her?”
Ava froze. She placed the spoon she was holding down, wiping her hands on a cloth before looking back over to Sara, voice shaking just enough to make Sara regret snapping at her, at least a little. “They loved Frankie more than anything in the entire world,” she started, voice dropping as if she was scared Frankie would hear her, even though she was far too young to understand. “And out of everyone, they picked us. Us, Sara. That has to mean something.”
She picked up the bowl and spoon she’d left on the counter and made her way over to Frankie, crouching down in front of her highchair, attempting to feed her but failing miserably. Sara watched for a moment, something twisting in her heart as she realised for the first time just how hard Ava was trying. Because yeah, she’d lost her sister, the only family she really had left. But she hadn’t really taken into account until now that Ava had lost her best friend too.
And really, neither of them were okay.
She reached into the cupboard nearby and pulled out some cookies, walking over to tip them onto the tray of Frankie’s highchair, ignoring Ava’s muffled protest. Frankie looked down, grabbed one, and smiled.
Ava didn’t.
She knew Ava would be able to hear the exhaustion in her voice when she spoke, but couldn’t bring herself to care - this felt a little like a lost cause by now but Ava seemed determined not to give in, and Sara hated how desperate she looked when she looked up, realising with a jolt that Ava needed this to work out, just as much as she needed it not to.
To protect the only piece of Laurel they had left.
“Do you honestly think we’re what’s best for her?”
Ava’s silence was louder than any answer she could have given.
The funeral was hard.
Not that either of them expected it to be easy , but they’d let themselves get distracted by Frankie, and by trying to find another home for her, and neither of them had had a chance to stop and breathe since that first night when Sara had walked into the police station and left with her world turned upside down. Sara slumped down onto the couch next to Ava, beer in hand, not commenting when Ava didn’t even look in her direction. “There’s that distant uncle with 9 kids,” she suggested halfheartedly, not needing to hear Ava’s response to know it anyway. Ava took a long sip of the wine she was holding and Sara placed her beer on the table, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Are you sure Tommy’s father’s off the table? He is her grandad, and…” Ava shook her head slightly, and Sara sighed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Ava tilted her head and looked over at her with that same look she’d been seeing more and more of over the past few weeks, equal parts exhausted and exasperated. She wiped her cheek quickly with one hand, almost as if she hoped Sara wouldn’t notice the tears that had escaped, and Sara bit her lip, wondering whether to mention it or not. But before she had the chance Ava looked over to meet her eyes, something beyond the sadness they were both feeling flickering behind them as she wavered, reaching out to take Sara’s hand, tangling their fingers together and brushing her thumb lightly over Sara’s skin.
Sara squeezed her hand back and shuffled closer until her arm was lightly resting against Ava’s. “I know,” she said softly, trusting Ava would hear her. “I know.”
They kept her. They didn’t talk about it, not after the night of the funeral, but neither of them brought up the option of doing anything else. How could they, after all this time. Somehow, completely by accident, they’d ended up with this… this family. This small, dysfunctional mess of a family - two moms who disagreed about almost everything but were both trying their best, and a daughter who somehow managed to make all of it worthwhile.
Despite having fought against it for so long Sara found herself slipping into the easy routine, giving herself permission to love Frankie rather than trying to protect her, chasing her around the house and playing hide and seek and laughing when Ava whipped out her phone to take photos, only realising later how much things had changed.
And if Ava had something to do with it, well. Sue her.
“You’re not sleeping together?” the social worker asked, and Sara ignored the twinge she felt in her chest at Ava’s expression of horror.
“No, no we’re - we’re not. We’re never - that’s not gonna happen.”
Sara shook her head, adding her own reassurances to Ava’s as the social worker sighed in relief. “Okay, good. Two single people living under the same roof, raising a recently orphaned child - well, it’s complicated enough, without the added complication of...you know..”
“Oh, trust me,” Ava reassured her, glancing briefly in Sara’s direction, too quickly for Sara to process. “We won’t be complicating anything.”
(“The problem is you two,” the social worker sighed later, closing the folder on her lap. “And whether or not you’re both cut out to be parents.”
It shouldn’t’ve hurt.
Sara hadn’t even wanted this, not at the start, and especially not with Ava here too.
“Your friends thought you could do this,” she continued, slotting the folder back into her bag and finding her keys, pushing herself to her feet. “But I’m gonna be honest... I’m not so sure.”)
She booked another visit with them before leaving and Sara watched as Ava pencilled it in on the calendar, neat handwriting filling the box but somehow not trailing into the next one. They'd keep going. They'd make this work, somehow.
For Frankie.
Sara grabbed her keys from the bowl by the door and shoved her arms into her jacket. She’d been here all evening, and the first thing Ava had done when she got back from work was criticise her apparent lack of parenting skills. As if she didn’t
know
she was failing. As if she didn’t already spend her evenings wondering what Laurel would say if she could see her, whether she’d be disappointed, heartbroken, or both.
She needed to get out.
“Laurel wouldn’t want -”
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed back, anger bubbling just under the surface, barely contained. “Don’t you dare tell me what my sister would’ve wanted.”
Ava ran one hand through her hair, dislodging the neat bun that her hair was always done up in, a few stray wisps of hair falling out of the hair tie and down over her shoulders. Sara fiddled with the keys in her hand, roughly shoving her boots on.
“You know, you really shouldn’t keep riding a motorcycle, your kids’ parents died in a - “
“She is not my kid,” Sara snapped, spinning round before Ava had even finished the sentence, fingers clenching into a fist around her keys, tight enough that she could feel them cutting into her skin. Frankie was Laurel’s kid.
Laurel and Tommy’s.
And they were dead.
Ava wrapped her arms around her waist, exhausted, eyes filling with emotions so overwhelming they nearly brought tears to Sara’s, and she had to drag her gaze away. Ava sighed softly, the anger in her voice replaced by a broken understanding, “then whose kid is she?”
Running away had always been Sara’s immediate reflex, no matter how much Laurel had chastised her for it. It was freeing. She could get on her bike and ride as far away as she needed to before she remembered how to breathe, escape as far as she could in order to forget, just for a moment, what she was running from. She could climb off her bike once she reached the edge of the city, staring out at it and running her hands through her hair, trying not to think about anything at all.
Except this time, the only thing she was trying to forget… was Frankie.
She could never forget Frankie. And, if she was being entirely honest with herself, Ava had been right from the start - Frankie needed people to look after her, people who were going to care, people who would stick around. And somehow, despite every attempt she’d made to stop it from happening, they’d become those people. They’d become the people who could calm Frankie down on the days she wouldn’t stop crying, they’d learnt what foods she liked and what foods she didn’t, the songs that would get her to sleep and the songs that would wake her up more, when she’d just sit in her cot, clapping her hands and giggling as if it wasn’t the middle of the night. They’d become the people who could make Frankie smile, the people who she reached for automatically when they entered the room, the people she was familiar with.
They’d… they’d become her parents.
And maybe, if Sara was being entirely honest with herself, she hadn’t run because she’d fought with Ava. She’d run because she was scared.
She was terrified .
She didn’t know how to do this, not even slightly. Ava had read books and asked friends and she was naturally good at all this, she wasn’t improvising and trying to organise work around the kid she’d suddenly ended up with and -
Sara took a deep breath, running her hands through her hair, staring at the city laid out below her, lights flickering slightly due to the distance. The more she thought about it, the more her stomach twisted, emotions she’d been fighting for weeks bubbling to the surface.
A sudden, overwhelming guilt clawed at her and she groaned, remembering with a jolt that she’d left Ava, alone, stressed and tired and having only just got back in from work.
Was it really Frankie she was running from?
(“I’m sorry,” Ava said quietly the moment Sara walked into the room, before she had the chance to let her own apology fall from her lips. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”
Sara shook her head, picking her way across the room over the toys no one had bothered to put away, curling up on the couch by Ava’s side, not quite close enough to be touching, but close enough that she should’ve known better. “I’m sorry too. For - for a lot of things.”
Ava nodded softly in acknowledgement, nudging Sara’s leg with her knee and shuffling slightly closer, a gentle, almost affectionate smile on her face. “I found some old home videos,” she offered tentatively, eyes scanning Sara’s face to take in her reaction. Sara’s breath left her in a rush and she nodded, leaning into Ava’s side. “If you want to…”
“Yeah,” she breathed, passing the remote over to Ava with a matching smile, eyes drifting over to Laurel standing there on the screen, alive and well and cradling a newborn baby in her arms. She swallowed, hoping her voice wouldn’t crack when she spoke, “yeah. I do.”)
They move in.
She doesn’t notice it happening, not really - but slowly and surely they start to take down some of the pictures Tommy and Laurel had put up, changing the photos on the wall, sending books and clothes to goodwill and filling the space in the wardrobe. The cookbooks Ava had bought found their way into the kitchen, and Sara’s old soccer kit found its way into the garage.
“We have to stop acting like they’re coming back,” Ava murmured one day, staring at the family photo Laurel had hung over the fireplace, the one that brought a lump to Sara’s throat every time she remembered it was there. Sara swallowed, blinking back the tears that had suddenly appeared in her eyes and murmuring an agreement, grateful that at least Ava was facing the other way and couldn’t see her expression.
She was right. She was always right.
But that didn’t make it hurt any less.
She didn’t notice them growing closer either. She didn’t remember when tense conversations and carefully divided up chores morphed into joint grocery shops and movie nights and time spent at the park watching Frankie play in the sandpit, doubling over with laughter when Ava ended up with a handful of sand in her mouth.
She didn’t notice that she cared. She didn’t realise that watching Ava with Frankie every hour of every day would make her feel things, not until she found Ava sitting in the kitchen with a spreadsheet and a glass of wine in front of her, trying and failing to balance the numbers in front of her. She looked lost, and some long forgotten depth of Sara’s stomach twisted itself in knots.
“I’ll make it work,” Ava sighed, shaking off her offer of help.
“Ava - “ Sara interrupted, catching her wrist before she had the chance to walk away, pulling her back into her seat. “I have savings. It’s fine. I’ll make up the difference.”
“I can’t take your money Sara, that’s not -”
“You can.” Sara reassured her, lightly squeezing her wrist. “Take it as payment for...cooking, and everything. Just take it, Aves. Please.”
Ava’s eyes softened and she nodded, fingers slipping into Sara’s. “I’ll make it up to you,” she offered quietly, tracing her thumb across Sara’s knuckles. “I will.” She hesitated for a moment, looking down at their joined hands, and then back up to Sara, and Sara could’ve sworn her eyes lingered on her lips for a moment too long. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she forced herself to ignore it. “How about dinner?” Ava offered tentatively, words careful and deliberate.
Sara’s breath left her in a rush, and she squeezed Ava’s hand back. “Yeah,” she whispered, meeting Ava’s eyes. Ava smiled, soft and beautiful and gently excited. “Dinner sounds good.”
It wasn’t a date, she told herself as she combed anxiously through her hair, looking over to the discarded outfits on the bed. It wasn’t a date. They already lived together, and they were raising a kid together, and they were just going out for dinner, and... shit.
It was a date.
And maybe... maybe, something had changed. Because she had a date with Ava Sharpe, and it mattered.
“You think they planned this?” Ava asked quietly the next morning, rolling over and brushing Sara’s hair out of her face. The sun had brought out Sara’s freckles, she thought vaguely as she let her hand rest at the top of Sara’s neck, barely brushing against her skin. She hadn’t noticed it until now, but with the early morning sunlight creeping through the cracks in the window blinds it was difficult to miss. Sara closed her eyes, but opened them when she felt Ava shift, propping herself up onto her elbows.
“What, us?” she murmured, shaking her head slightly, trying not to lose her train of thought the moment she made eye contact with Ava. Ava’s expression softened slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners, thumb absentmindedly tracing a path across Sara’s bare shoulder.
(Why hadn’t they done this sooner? They should’ve done this sooner.)
Sara exhaled slowly. “Me and you? Me, you and Frankie?”
It wasn’t really a question, but Ava nodded anyway. “No,” Sara admitted after a long pause, leaning up on one elbow to press a soft kiss to Ava’s lips, breath warm against her skin. She lingered for a moment too long, unwilling to pull away, but if Ava noticed she didn’t mention it. “They tried it once before, and we both know how that turned out.”
Ava’s eyes drifted away and Sara sighed, running one hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, by the way. About that date they sent us on, back when we first met. I didn’t - I wasn’t ready.”
“It’s okay.” Ava’s fingers traced their way down Sara’s neck, brushing lightly against her collarbone and making her shiver. “I wasn’t either. And I didn’t give you a real chance.”
Sara murmured a vague agreement, hand finding Ava’s so she could slip their fingers together and press a quick kiss to Ava’s knuckles, and another to the small cut on her thumb she’d given herself the day before whilst preparing a meal for Frankie.
“And now?” Ava asked tentatively, closing her eyes as she pressed a kiss to Sara’s jaw, trying to save every detail in the back of her mind. The world was just starting to wake up outside, and soon enough Frankie would be up too - but for a little while, this moment was theirs. She pressed another quick kiss to the corner of Sara’s lips before pulling away to raise an eyebrow, heart fluttering in her chest when Sara followed her as she moved. Sara’s lips twitched up into a grin, and she rolled over on the bed, flipping them so she was leaning over Ava, her hair falling around them and catching in the early morning sunlight, making it difficult to breathe.
Sara smirked. “Well, I guess you’re worth a shot.”