Note: This was written for Nyx - to bribe her to start writing again, lol. But many thanks go out to the Legends crew and newyorkcitydreaming for going back and forth with me whenever I'd send a snippet their way. It was always much appreciated!
They'd started out in Central City. His contact, Barry Allen, had told him that they hadn't been a group back then. Each of them had worked separately or with just one partner.
Then Rip Hunter had come on the scene.
No one knew why they'd stolen the equipment from STAR Labs (amongst the missing items were the schematics for a gun that Cisco Ramon called a cold gun—along with the gun itself) as things had gone mostly quiet after that. The only exception had been the death of Lewis Snart, a former cop, and the father of one of Rip Hunter's recruits, Leonard Snart.
He'd been found with a hole in his chest and back as if he'd been run through with something, though there had been no sign of a murder weapon.
Barry had confided that he and Detective Joe West had a bet going with a couple others that the murder weapon had been a shard of ice that had melted.
Central City hadn't been enough it seemed. They'd started to expand until, one day, Rip Hunter had been spotted in Star City.
Oliver Queen wished they had never set foot in this city.
He clenched his jaw and stared across the street at the couple exiting the restaurant. The man was in a tailored suit, black on black with the only hint of color being his ice blue tie, a black duster over the suit in defense against the cold. The woman's knee length dress matched his tie, her hair twisted up to show off the diamond canary around her neck. The white coat she wore was nearly as long as her dress and stood out compared to the black of her companion's duster.
Sara Lance, daughter of Captain Quentin Lance and sister of District Attorney Laurel Lance, had been the most shocking discovery when they'd decided to look in to who the latest recruits in this group were. Ray Palmer had been another shock as no one had ever had a bad thing to say about him but there he was, walking out behind Sara and the man that Oliver knew to be Leonard Snart.
He had no idea what job they were going to pull in Star City and he couldn't just arrest them, no matter how badly he wanted to.
They'd left behind no evidence at any of the crime scenes in Central City, something that was a sore point for the entirety of CCPD since it meant that their involvement was pure speculation. You couldn't get a warrant based on speculation.
His phone went off, startling him in to looking away from the trio making their way down the street.
"Queen," he said, looking back to see Snart closing the passenger side door and moving around to the driver's side.
"Get ready to have a very merry Christmas," John Diggle told him. "Where are you?"
"Watching Leonard Snart drive off with Sara and Palmer."
"Then you better get in your car and follow, Oliver. We got a warrant. Five paintings were reported missing from the art gallery and guess what was found at the scene?"
"Fingerprints seems like too easy an answer."
"You're not wrong," Diggle agreed. "But we did find blonde hair that matched Sara's DNA. That places her at the scene. The judge signed a warrant to allow us to bring all of them in."
Oliver grinned and walked outside, sucking in a breath when the cold air hit him, and started jogging towards his car. If he hurried, he'd get there when the squad cars did.
His day was looking up.
Oliver nodded at the officers that had shown up—they'd be needed to get the entire group down to the station. He stopped in front of the group and scanned his eyes over them.
"It seems like someone on Snart's team finally messed up enough for a judge to be willing to sign a warrant," he told them, nodding in greeting at Diggle as he jogged up, warrant in hand. "I shouldn't have to say this but keep it clean. We don't want them getting off on a technicality." He only waited long enough for them to nod before entering the building with Diggle, their badges on display. "They're on the top floor, penthouse." Of course, they were; Snart didn't seem like the type to settle for anything but the best.
Enough of the officers stayed downstairs in case they tried to run while the rest made use of the two elevators and headed up to the top floor.
The doors opened in to an entryway and they quietly exited, looking around to take in the hardwood floors and leather furniture. It may have been the penthouse but it had a feeling of comfort that Oliver hadn't been expecting. He'd been expecting something cold and straight out of a magazine.
"Whoa."
The word had them turning to where Ray Palmer had just entered. His eyebrows shot up as he looked at the group. "Can I help you, officers?" he asked.
"Raymond Palmer," Diggle said, "we have a warrant for your arrest as well as a warrant for your...associates."
"What are we being accused of?"
Oliver stared hard at him. If it was an act, it was damn good. "Missing artwork. There was evidence that connected you to it." Maybe not him specifically but Palmer didn't need to know that. With the way he'd worded it, there was always a chance that Palmer would let something slip thinking they already had the evidence needed.
"Huh." He smiled and Oliver was weirdly reminded of a puppy. "So are you going to read me my rights? I've seen that on TV a lot."
Oliver motioned to one of the officers, who stepped forward and began to read him his rights as she slipped the handcuffs over his wrists. "Mr. Palmer, if you could tell me where to find Mr. Snart?"
Palmer looked surprised for a moment. "Well, he's in his bedroom but I wouldn't—"
"Thank you," Oliver cut him off and turned in the direction that Palmer had tilted his head when he mentioned the bedroom. He didn't say anything as Diggle fell in to step beside him, the unspoken I've got your back clear. He elbowed him slightly in thanks. Diggle could have been with his wife and daughter but instead he had shown up so that Oliver would have some backup on this arrest.
The door was closed and Oliver couldn't deny that he took a bit of perverse pleasure in simply pushing it open without knocking and walking in.
He immediately wished he hadn't.
Snart was kneeling in front of Sara, one hand holding one of Sara's legs above his shoulder as he slid his mouth up the inside of her thigh. His other hand was very clearly under her dress, probably doing things that Oliver never wanted to know about. Sara was slouched in the chair, near the edge of the seat, with her head tilted back and her hands gripping the arms of the chair.
"It's called knocking," Snart said, his words slightly muffled by Sara's skin. "Now get out."
"I can't do that, Mr. Snart," Oliver said, fixing his eyes somewhere over Sara's shoulder. Absently, he noted that Snart's duster was draped over the back of the other chair, along with Sara's coat, but that seemed to be as far as they'd gotten. Sara hadn't even taken her heels off yet.
Snart pulled away from Sara, setting her leg down with one last squeeze and then slid his hand out from under her dress, doing something that caused Sara to suck in a breath that Oliver adamantly pretended not to hear as Snart stood, shifting so that Sara was blocked from view as she smoothed her dress down.
"Detectives, you're a little out of your way. Is this busines?"
"Well, we're not here for pleasure."
"I certainly hope not." Snart smirked at them as Sara stood and moved so that she was standing next to him instead of behind him.
"What are you doing here then?" she asked.
Diggle stepped forward. "We've got a warrant for your arrest. Both of you."
Snart raised an eyebrow. "For?"
"You're wanted for questioning in regards to some missing art," Oliver told him. He watched as they glanced at each other, Sara's eyebrows lifted slightly as if she was surprised. Snart tilted his head slightly and shrugged. He stepped forward and pulled out his handcuffs, moving to take Sara's wrist. "Sara Lance, you have the right to remain silent—"
"Your birthday gifts were much better when we were kids, Ollie," Sara sighed. "Though if these are supposed to be a suggestion on how Len and I can spice things up, that's sweet but really not needed. Trust me."
Oliver fought to keep from wincing. "—anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you." He relaxed slightly when he secured the cuffs around Sara's wrists.
Next to him, Diggle had done the same to a smirking Snart. The look on Snart's face made it obvious that he had caught Oliver's reaction to Sara's words. Scowling, Oliver put a hand on Sara's back to get her moving forward. He noted the way Snart's eyes narrowed at the action and the way Sara tensed and stepped forward quickly enough to dislodge his hand. She leveled a look at him that dared him to touch her again.
"I'm perfectly capable of finding my way to my own entryway, Oliver." Before he could reply, she began to walk out of the room. Swearing, Oliver followed. He'd have shut down any other person for an attitude like that but this was Sara. They'd grown up together; he'd taken her to her senior prom and briefly dated her before he and Laurel had gotten back together the summer after she had graduated, not to mention the brief affair they'd had a couple of years after that. They had always been in each other's lives in one way or another.
This was why he probably should have passed this case to someone else but he couldn't bring himself to. Sara's involvement made this case personal to a lot of people at the station and it didn't feel right not to handle it himself.
"I assume you know where to go," Diggle said, raising an eyebrow.
"I see that you earned that detective's badge," Snart told him approvingly before following Sara. Behind him, Diggle slowly let out a breath and looked like he was silently counting to ten.
"If we murder him, we go to prison and Lyla and Laurel then murder us," Oliver said. Diggle snorted and grinned.
"Yeah, I'd like to avoid my wife's wrath so let's just get this wrapped up. I'm already missing dinner for this."
They quickly followed Sara and Snart out and to the entryway where they found the officers waiting, though Palmer wasn't the only one they'd arrested this time. Mick Rory, Rip Hunter, Kendra Hall, and Jefferson "Jax" Jackson were all standing in the entryway, hands cuffed behind their backs, all of them looking bemused.
"You didn't say this is how we were celebrating your birthday, Blondie," Rory said, waggling his eyebrows at Sara. "If you wanted me in cuffs, you should have just asked."
"Maybe for your birthday, Mick," Sara shot back with a smile.
"Let's go," Diggle interrupted, motioning for one of the officers to call for the elevators. It was only a few moments before there was a ding and the entire group shuffled their way on the elevators. Oliver noted that Palmer and Rory had managed to get on the same elevator he was on with Snart and Sara.
"I told you these elevators could hold a lot of people," Palmer suddenly said. Rory rolled his eyes and looked over at Palmer.
"Yeah, Haircut, I remember. You had an entire speech about how great these elevators are and how much they can handle."
Sara and Snart smirked when Palmer's cheeks turned slightly pink at the leer in Rory's voice. "You make it sound dirty."
"It was dirty, you talking about how many people could fit and how close they'd have to press together."
Sara looked like she was desperately trying not to laugh and if the clench of Snart's jaw was anything to go by, he was probably biting the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting. Rory, on the other hand, seemed determined to make Palmer blush if the way he slowly looked the man up and down was anything to go by.
"Mick," Snart said. It was all that was needed apparently because Rory stopped and turned back to face the front of the elevator.
"Sorry, boss. Can't help it if he looks good when he blushes."
Sara snorted and Oliver fought back a sigh.
This was one of the days where he wondered why he'd thought the police academy was a good idea.
He should have just lived off his family's fortune. He was sure that life would have been much less stressful.
The ride to the station was silent though Oliver noted that Snart and Sara had simply turned their heads to look at each other, a small smile on Sara's face while the corner of Snart's mouth was lifted in an expression that could be a smile or a smirk.
He should have separated them probably, sent Snart with Diggle but when Rory had stopped by Diggle's car that had seemed like a bad idea.
Though considering Palmer had gotten in the car with Rory, Oliver was sure that Diggle's car was much more uncomfortable than this. He'd take the pointed silence over Rory trying to make Palmer blush any damn day of the week.
Once they'd pulled up to the station, he opened the back for Snart to get out first before moving around to let Sara out as well while one of the officers began to lead Snart to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Snart had turned his head to the side as if to keep them in his sights.
"You could get out, Sara," Oliver said, keeping his voice low so that it wouldn't carry. Sara turned her head to look up at him.
"What are you talking about?" She frowned at him.
"Whatever you did, if you just work with us, we could help you get out and away from them."
Sara shook her head, a laugh escaping her as she did. "Whatever I did?" she repeated. Sara tilted her head back, lifting her chin in a look he recognized as one she usually gave before she let loose on someone. "I traded up, Detective." Without another word, she turned and walked away, heading straight for the doors of the station, leaving Oliver staring after her.
Rather than take a few minutes to pull himself together the way that he wanted to, he simply took a deep breath and jogged after her, catching up to her in time to walk with her through the door.
He let out a breath when he saw Captain Lance waiting to lead them to the interview rooms. While he didn't normally do that, he also knew that Quentin hadn't really spoken to Sara in quite a long time.
"Hi, Daddy," Sara said brightly.
Quentin sighed. "Sara," he greeted softly. He stared at her for a few moments before he ticked his gaze over the others, his eyes hardening when they landed on Snart. "Take them to the back."
"I believe I have the right to an attorney," Snart drawled, looking bored.
"For real," Jackson added. "Aren't I supposed to get a phone call or has TV been lying to me my whole life?"
"Well, we wouldn't want you to think that, would we?" Quentin nodded at the officer behind Jackson. "Let him be the first to make his call. The rest of you can wait your turns in the interview rooms."
Sara narrowed her eyes and Oliver knew that she easily recognized the tactic for what it was. Judging by the exchange of smirks between Snart and Rory, they did as well. Not that the others looked surprised either. Hunter looked like he had better things to do and Saunders was literally staring up at the ceiling. Palmer still looked a bit bemused.
Oliver watched as they were all led away while Jackson made his phone call. He turned his head slightly towards Jackson to listen in.
"Grey, I know it's Christmas but I wouldn't call if it wasn't important." Jackson paused. "Important as in you're my one phone call. We're all getting a chance to call our lawyer." He shrugged as if the man on the other side could see him. "Apparently, we're art thieves." Jackson grinned. "Thanks, man." He hung up and looked directly at Oliver. "As you heard, he'll be here soon."
"Then you can wait for him in one of our finest rooms, just like the rest of your friends," Quentin told him, nodding for Jackson to be led out.
Oliver sighed. "I tried to get through to Sara," he admitted the second he knew they wouldn't be overheard. Quentin's head snapped in his direction. He hadn't spoken to his daughter in years, except for the rare times she had shown up for holidays and Oliver knew that it hurt him. Just like he knew that Quentin blamed himself for the fact that Sara had kept herself separate from the family for years after the way he'd reacted when he'd found out that Oliver and Sara had been sleeping together behind Laurel's back.
Hell, Oliver didn't think that Quentin had forgiven him for that yet either, to tell the truth.
Sara's mother had known about them it turned out, something that had caused friction between her and Laurel, who had been absolutely furious with both Sara and Oliver. Nothing in the Lance family had been the same since the revelation about him and Sara had come out.
Sara had once told him that one of the things the Lance family did best was hold grudges and nothing had made that clearer than the way Laurel had taken her anger out on Sara, making snide and pointed remarks whenever Sara was around until Sara left. She'd cut Oliver out of her life with a cool, "Why don't you try my sister, Ollie? You're good at that." In his disappointment, Quentin hadn't put a stop to it as often he normally would have.
By the time Laurel had cooled off enough to try to speak to either of them in a way that didn't end with someone walking away, Sara had already made it clear that she wasn't going to be running back to her family. From what Oliver had heard, Dinah was the only one she spoke to on a regular basis. Oliver had still been trying to get Laurel back while dealing with the fact that he had a child in Central City and had enrolled at the police academy in an effort to straighten himself out.
"What did you say to her?" he asked, turning to Oliver. "Was she forced in to this by Snart?"
Oliver grimaced. "It didn't go well. I told her that if she worked with us and just confessed what she'd done then we could work with her and get her out and away from them." He hesitated.
"That's not all. What did she say, Oliver?"
He glanced down and then back up. "She said that the only thing she'd done was trade up."
Quentin sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "If I'd done my job as a father years ago, this wouldn't be happening. I was disappointed and I was angry that she'd pull that stunt with you but I shouldn't have let that get in the way of reigning in Laurel back then. I'm the parent. I'm supposed to put their needs in front of my own and instead I ignored one in favor of the other and look how that went. I lost my baby to...this." He gestured in the direction of the interview rooms.
Oliver wasn't sure what he could say that would help and he didn't think he should try at this point. What could he say? That Sara was a grown woman and she had made her choices? That wouldn't make anyone feel better and he was still having trouble himself believing that she'd chosen this life.
Rather than continue the conversation, they began to gather the files that they would need in order to question the group once the lawyer arrived because once they'd been pulled in to the interview rooms and holding cells, they'd each demanded their lawyer, preventing any of them from being questioned. Instead, they were each led to the phone, one by one.
It was nearly thirty minutes later that an older man entered the station, briefcase in hand. His eyes scanned the room until he saw Oliver and Quentin and headed straight for them.
"Gentlemen, my name is Martin Stein. I'm here for my clients," he told them.
"And who are your clients exactly, Mr. Stein? So we know who to take you to first," Oliver said.
A small smile appeared on the man's face. "Jefferson Jackson, Raymond Palmer, Leonard Snart, Mick Rory, Sara Lance, Kendra Saunders, and Rip Hunter." The look on his face remained bland even when Oliver and Quentin both focused on him. Neither had ever had any interaction with the man before but if he was representing all of them then it was most likely that he was somehow also involved in this.
Of course, there was also always the off chance that he was nothing more than what he seemed—a lawyer representing clients that had probably recommended him to each other.
He lifted his briefcase up and on the counter, folding his hands on top of it. "As for taking me to them, I don't believe that will be necessary. They will be leaving with me, after all."
"I think you'll find that assumption to be incorrect, Mr. Stein," Quentin interrupted, narrowing his eyes when Stein only raised an eyebrow.
"Will I?" he asked. "I think you'll find yourself a bit behind in the times. You might want to speak to your officers about giving you updates as they get them. I got the call as I was pulling up." Before he could continue, Snart walked in, followed closely by Sara and Jackson first, with the others not too far behind him.
"Grey," Jackson greeted the man happily, walking over to the man and pulling him in to a hug.
"Hello, Jefferson," Stein said, sounding very much like he was trying not to laugh.
"Stein," Snart said, holding out a hand. "Thank you for getting here so quickly. How's Clarissa?"
"It wasn't a problem at all, Mr. Snart." Stein nodded and shook Snart's hand. "She's still quite cross that all of you chose not to come over today."
"We decided to take today for ourselves for Sara's birthday. But what about dinner tomorrow, if the two of you are free—"
"Excuse me," Quentin snapped. "What exactly do you people think you're doing?" He glared over at Diggle, who had also walked back to the front.
"Ah, as I was about to explain to you," Stein told him. "The so-called missing art pieces were not missing at all. It seems that they'd simply been moved without any notification left. The artwork was all found and accounted for. As for the evidence," Stein's eyes darted down to the files in Oliver's hand, "I believe you'll find once you go through the very public records of admittance that the exhibit kept, you'll find that Ms. Lance and Mr. Snart attended last night."
Snart gave them a small smirk. Briefly, Oliver wondered if the man even knew what a smile was. "Early birthday present," Snart said. "Sara loves art, after all."
"If it's all the same to you," Hunter interrupted with a hint of impatience, "I think I speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get home now."
"You're free to go," Diggle announced, nodding at them.
"Excellent." Stein smiled. "I called for a couple cars to come get you. They should be arriving any minute."
Snart nodded at him in thanks. "Let's get out of here." As they began to walk out, Saunders pulling Sara ahead of the rest, Snart paused near Oliver and Quentin. "The next time you want to see Sara for her birthday, it might just be easier to pick up the phone. Try not to make it a Saturday though. That's family night." The look he gave them said that he knew exactly what those words would do to them and he wasn't the least bit sorry. Instead, he slid his hands in to his pockets and followed his crew out the door.
An hour later, in a loft across town that had been bought under the names of Mr. and Mrs. Ace Waylett (a name that had made Leonard throw back his head and laugh when Sara had suggested it), Leonard walked up behind Sara and slid his arms around her, staring at the wall that she was smiling at.
Along the wall were five paintings that had earlier been reported stolen and then reported found, each of them evenly spaced and in the exact order that Sara had specified when she'd been deciding where they'd hang.
Back in the exhibit, no one knew that the paintings they'd put back in the original spots were extremely well paid for forgeries.
He pressed a kiss to the curve of Sara's neck, smiling at the hum of satisfaction the gesture caused.
"Happy birthday, Sara."