AN Thank you for the lovely response, as well as the numerous wishes that I had a good vacation! It was absolutely heartwarming :D

Oliver stared at the window, absently watching Starling soldier on in the cold. It had been a few days since Hanukkah and things had evened out. Oliver felt like he was in this strange halfway place, expecting the next evening with Felicity and her family even when he knew that there wouldn't be one. Not another job, at least. But he knew he was going to see her, the velvet memory of their kiss chasing his doubts away. Had it been one kiss, had it ended on the gentle withdrawal of her not asking about his scars, he would have worried, would have believed Felicity Smoak was a wonderful maybe that stayed in the past. But the kiss she had given him after, the nervous good night peck and self-conscious retreat had promised that they, whatever they were, were safe (and the shy, adorable "I'll see you later?" she gave him after she drove him home hadn't hurt things, either).

So he waited until the time was right for him to contact her, to follow up and go from there.

He shook himself from his reverie and set aside his laptop. He had been sorting through business offers, systematically discarding the description of Christmas parties and holiday pick-me-ups and blunt requests for sex. There were shockingly few emails remaining, even by his normal post-purge standard.

Oliver walked to his counter and braced his hands against it. His eyes searched for distraction, something to occupy him. He had already found Christmas gifts for Diggle and his family (Things, Oliver had learned, did nothing for them, things could be picked out at random. Time and memories, on the other hand, were truly priceless), so that was a dead end. He didn't want to watch anything on his computer, and he didn't have anyone to go see. Maybe he could bite the bullet and fix the radio Mrs. Hanagawa had been dropping hints about all week, despite his silent avoidance of her since the veiled prostitute comment.

No, he decided, he wasn't that desperate.

A knock on the door spared him from having to continue rooting around for further possibilities. He walked over and opened the door.

"Geeze, Ollie, you live in the city. Don't you know you're supposed to use the peep hole?"

Oliver stared at the woman standing in his doorway, grinning at him in a mix of excitement, cheekiness and delight.

"Sara?!" he asked, the word rushing out of him in disbelief. He barely had time to get the sound out before she grabbed him into a hug and squeezed him for all she was worth. He staggered back a few steps, still dumbstruck.

"C'mon, Oliver, don't you know how hugs work?" she said, voice muffled by his shirt. He clamped his arms down into a jerky hug, then pulled her back to stare into her face. She had more freckles than he remembered and her hair was a little lighter, suggesting she had spent plenty of time in the sun. She grinned at him, her smile so infectious that it broke through his shock.

"What're you doing here?" he asked, welcoming her inside. "Are you visiting family? How long…it's so good to see you."

She nodded, rocking back on her heels.

"I'm just passing through," she said easily, ignoring his question. She had fallen on familial trouble around the same time as Oliver had. She claimed it was a case of different people wanting different things finally coming to a head, but Oliver had the distinct feeling that he had been the unintentional catalyst. After all, it was unlikely the fighting within the Lance family would have started had Oliver not invited Sara onto the Gambit while he was still dating Laurel. Thankfully, her father had caught her before she made it to the docks, but Oliver had been keenly aware of how close he had come to potentially causing her death.

"Road tripping trough Christmas?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as she dropped her duffle bag and backpack down at the end of the counter. She shrugged again, giving that mischievous smile that had so often led all of their friends into trouble.

"Is Nyssa in town, too?"

"No, she's in London with her dad right now. But she's flying back to Cali for a few days after Christmas, so we were planning on meeting up and celebrating the holiday after."

Nyssa was Sara's girlfriend of over a year, whom Oliver had never met, but had heard and seen a lot of. She frequented the pictures Sara sent him, usually featuring an expression of acute discomfort over the silly situations Sara managed to get her into. Oliver guessed she was a serious, down to earth person, and often wondered why she had allowed Sara to photograph such unrefined moments.

"Back to California?" Oliver asked. "Is that where you've been?"

Sara hopped onto the counter and shrugged. After she had left her parents' house, Sara had roamed in a similar fashion to Oliver. She occasionally told him where she had settled, but most often left him to decode the snapshots she took of the city and surrounding area. Oliver had to think her antics were amusing, or else feel further guilt over doing the same thing to his family.

"Los Angeles," she said softly, giving the information a sort of reverence. "Been there for almost six months. Nyssa's family has a beach house out there."

Nyssa's family, it turned out, also happened to be extremely and ridiculously wealthy. It was a clinical wealth, though, allowing for none of the pretentious luxury of the Queens. Sara had been slow to tell Oliver at first, as if embarrassed by falling in love with yet another rich person.

He nodded, still barely able to believe she was there. He hadn't seen her in years, their travels taking them everywhere except to each other.

"Do you have a hotel already?"

"Not so much," she said, swinging her feet.

"You can stay here," he offered. Sara hesitated, trying to smother her apprehension.

"I don't want to be a burden."

"It's just a place to rest," he said. Sara looked up at him with almost scared eyes, reflecting the anxiety he got whenever he thought about going home. "It's your choice," he said with a shrug.

Sara slid off the counter and gazed around his apartment.

"I like it," she said, nodding at the space. "Usually studios feel cramped, but this place, it's open."

"It's because of the tall ceiling," he said.

"And you barely having more than the clothes on your back," she smirked. Sara could say things like that because she was hardly doing better.

She ran her fingers over the low bookcase that sectioned off his bedroom and took in the cool efficient decorations. His home suddenly felt sparse compared to Felicity's, which had been filled to the brim with sweet decorations that completely reflected her. Did his home reflect his personality as well, were the hard edges and crisp colors too telling?

"I don't know if I'll go see my family," Sara said, facing the floor to ceiling window. Oliver watched her from the kitchen, arms folded.

"Do they know you're in town?"

"No one knows I'm in town," she said, throwing him a black smile over her shoulder. "No one but you and me and the bus driver."

Oliver considered a moment, then pushed himself away from the kitchen counter. He walked over to her, lingering a few feet away.

"Does your family know where you are?" she asked, voice sharp enough to keep him from pursuing the subject.

"They do."

"But you haven't seen them yet," she said. He met her gaze.

"No."

"Then why should I…" Sara cut herself off. She was holding herself very, very tight.

"I should," he said gently. "But it's a little different for me."

Sara gave an ugly snort, but didn't deny it. She let out a sigh.

"I haven't talked to them in years," she whispered. "Laurel must hate me."

"Laurel's moved on."

"She's stubborn."

"Five years stubborn?" he asked with a smile, because Laurel could probably hold a grudge until the sun imploded. Sara huffed out a laugh and looked back at him. Her gaze searched his face, seeking something he didn't know if she would find.

"How's work going?" she asked, clearing her throat like clearing away the past was half so easy.

"It's good," he said, allowing the moment to pass anyway. "Everyone's scrambling last second for the holidays, like always."

"You can afford to be picky?" she asked with a grin. "Anything sticking out?"

"A few."

She watched him with a wise smile, but she didn't push and he wasn't willing to give in to her methods.

"What have you been doing lately?" he asked, gesturing her to one of his chairs.

"Oh, I dunno," she sighed, plopping into a seat. "A little bit of everything, it feels like. I'm working at this super granola crunchy place. It's all organic quinoa and vegan chapstick and loose leaf tea." Sara rolled her eyes as she spoke, as though the idea of non-processed foods and artificial chemical free products were ridiculous.

"You love it there," Oliver said, and she broke into a guilty grin.

"Okay, yeah, so I get discounted tea and huge things of local honey. Can you blame me, though? I mean, Oliver, it's honey. I live for that stuff."

"Good to know," he laughed. "And Nyssa?"

"She's running things for her dad in the LA branch," Sara said with a wave. "She's miserable, though. She likes the work, but her dad…isn't the most understanding guy."

Oliver nodded, feeling an odd ring of familiarity to the tale. It made him think about his mother.

"So are you going to be in LA for Christmas?"

Sara shrugged, eyes again roaming the room. "I dunno. I don't have a bus ticket, so I'm not locked in for anything. I was just going to wing it."

Oliver watched her. The last few weeks had taught him that holidays needed people, if absolutely nothing else. There was an infectious contentment in family gatherings that made the happiness of big days complete. Despite the little contentions that arose, people made it all better.

"Why don't you come over to Diggle's with me for Christmas?" he offered.

"No…no really, it's fine—"

"Sara, come on," he said, leaning forward. "It's better than being alone."

She gave him a sideways look, tense and almost unhappy.

"Stick around the city for a few days. You haven't been here in, what, years?"

"Yeah," she said, ducking her head.

"Then enjoy it. See some familiar faces without the pressure."

"I barely know Diggle, I can't just—"

"Sara," he cut off, "they're good people. They won't turn you away."

She chewed on her lip for a moment, then huffed out a sigh.

"Fine," she said. "Fine, I'll go. But don't you dare try to make me see my family," she warned, pointing a finger at him that was only half joking.

"Not my call," he said easily, pleased that she was going to stay.

Sara also gave in to his offer of letting her stay over, but stubbornly refused to take the bed.

"Ollie, no," she said, glaring at him from her half-constructed nest on the floor. "I'm not kicking you out of your bed. Also, I have a bed nest."

He rolled his eyes, but let her continue arranging blankets and pillows on the floor.

They passed the few days before Christmas by talking and wandering the city, exploring the places they hadn't explored as well-off teens. They caught up with each other, stories and opinions mixing together with memories and old jokes. Oliver told her about Verdant opening and how Tommy wanted him to be there, and Sara explained how she and Nyssa were starting to get serious, but that Sara didn't feel comfortable going on without having the big family sit down.

Oliver told Sara things that didn't come out with other people, because she knew his situation better than any other. She had seen his grief and guilt after his father had died, had been one of very few not to lecture or coddle or berate or not understand. When his family had walked on eggshells and her family hated him, Sara cut through it all. She had given him a stubborn look and said, "We tried to make a mistake and now I want to avoid really making another." She had talked to him, listened to his silence and his words and worked and waited for him to be okay.

When Sara had had the blowout with her family, she had texted him from the bus station.

how do you get through it? she had asked, the little letters vague and yet revealing tears, panic, anger, fear.

one day at a time, had been his honest reply.

And there they were, years later, fighting the same problems, facing the same things. It didn't really feel like he was getting through it, now that he thought about it.

"You're sure it's okay?" she asked on Christmas Eve. She had been notably silent about their holiday plans in the days leading up to Christmas, but she looked truly concerned as she curled up on her makeshift bed. "I mean, I don't have presents and I'm just a stranger showing up on their door."

"It's fine," he assured her. "And you're not a stranger, Digg knows you."

"Yeah," she grumbled. "But it's how he knows me that gives me pause."

Oliver hesitated a moment, surprised by her words. But they made sense. Diggle had never interacted with Sara beyond giving her a few hard looks as she disappeared with Oliver for their latest teen rebellion. And after the accident, she would have been labeled the girl that had decided to cheat with her sister's boyfriend.

He looked at his hands. Diggle wouldn't hold that against her. He was a strong believer in second chances, though Oliver doubted that was something Sara would trust until she was actually there to experience it. So, instead of giving her well-meant advice that would miss its mark, he hauled a smile onto his face.

"If I can make it through Hanukkah, you can do this."

Sara blinked, frowning at him from her nest-bed. "Hanukkah? Were you invited by a Jewish friend or something?"

"Yeah, a couple weeks ago," he said, then paused. He hadn't hesitated to say it, but now the words felt false. He hadn't been invited to the Lowes' for Hanukkah, he'd been paid. He had been paid to accompany Felicity.

But the truths that had passed back and forth and the conversation with her family and their kiss seemed to outweigh that, redefining things and gently pushing the promise of money off the scale.

"Cool," she said, nodding her head. "What was it like?"

"Peaceful. It was completely about family, not appearances or anything. But that was just everyone spending time together. We missed most all of the ceremony."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"We were run off the road and got stuck in a snow bank."

Sara broke into a laughter and shook her head. "Well, I guess if I don't get in a car accident on the big day, I guess I've really got nothing to complain about."

Still, Oliver felt her worry as they went to sleep, Sara quietly fidgeting in the dark.

On Christmas morning Oliver and Sara caught a bus across town, but had to walk the last few blocks due to the reduced schedule. Sara had accepted Oliver's leather jacket, as her layers of clothing hadn't done much to cut through the wet cold.

"I can't believe this weather," Sara sighed, kicking at a clump of ice. "Usually Starling's covered in mist and rain, what's with this snow?"

"I dunno. But at least we get a white Christmas."

It hadn't snowed in the last week, but it had been cold enough to keep the snow on the ground. Of course, it had then turned to ice, but it at least maintained the illusion of a winter wonderland.

"I much prefer not freezing weather," she grumbled.

"How did you manage living in Boston?"

"By running down to New Orleans when it dipped below twenty."

Oliver laughed and led her up the walk to Diggle's apartment. Carly answered the door, AJ zipping into view immediately after.

"Oliver!" he cheered, grabbing ahold of Oliver's legs once he stepped inside. "Merry Christmas are there more presents?"

"And who's this?" Carly asked, turning to Sara.

"This is Sara Lance, a friend of mine," he said. "Sara, this is Carly, Diggle's sister-in-law."

"Merry Christmas," Sara said, giving Carly a warm smile.

"Hey," Diggle said, walking over to greet the two. He gave Oliver a quick hug and shook Sara's hand.

"Thank you for having me," Sara said meekly. She seemed stiff, as though thrown by seeing the head of Queen security in a t-shirt and jeans.

Everyone was quickly introduced before they migrated to the living room. Carly and AJ occupied the arm chairs, Diggle and Lyla sat together at the end of the couch, while Sara sat on the floor. Oliver gave into AJ's pestering before he settled himself, knowing AJ would continue endlessly.

"Merry Christmas," he said, pulling a toy bow and arrow from his bag and handing it to the boy.

"Awesome," AJ breathed. After he had seen pictures of Oliver on the archery range, AJ had begged his mother nonstop for archery lessons.

"If he breaks anything with that, I'm billing you," she informed Oliver, helping AJ with the packaging.

"Here's yours," he said, handing her a pass to a day spa (he had been the manager's neighbor in Tucson and had earned the favor by fixing his car when it broke before an important business meeting). Carly's eyes widened, a delighted grin spreading across her face.

"Thank you," she breathed, holding the pass in careful hands. "This spa, it's—it's one of the best on the West Coast!"

"I hope that has a sticky note on it saying you'll take care of AJ, rather than dumping him off on me," Diggle told Oliver, raising an eyebrow. Oliver shrugged, saying nothing but offering a cheeky grin.

"What'd Uncle John get what'd Uncle John get?" AJ asked, tugging on Oliver's shoulder.

"Reservations to Blue Spruce."

"That place has been booked solid for ages," Lyla said, straightening.

"I worked with the brother of the owner. Any day you want, they'll clear you a table."

"Thanks," Diggle breathed, eyes wide like he was still processing. "Blue Spruce, though? You said Blue Spruce?"

"Yep."

"They got top marks in every review I've seen," he half-whispered, a hopeful expression on his face. Diggle, Oliver had learned, was more than a bit of a closet foodie.

"And you," Oliver said, turning to Sara and reaching into his pocket.

"What? Oh, no, I'm fine, really," she protested, hands raised to push the gift away. "Really, I'm crashing the party, you didn't need to—"

Oliver held out several straws to her, filled with what he had been assured was locally grown honey.

"Oh," Sara said, taking the sticks from him. She looked up, expression equal parts surprise and confusion. "Thank you."

"What's Oliver's present?" AJ asked the room, loving the exchange of gifts almost more than receiving them.

"Knew I forgot something," Diggle said with a snap of his fingers. AJ gasped in horror, then sighed in relief when Diggle produced a small card. Oliver took it, trying not to narrow his eyes. Diggle knew better than buy things for him; his pride and stubbornness effectively stifled almost all good intentions.

It was a gym membership, dated for the following year. He looked at Diggle, unsure what to make of it.

"For that new parkour place you've been talking about," Diggle said with a smile. "It'll cover the entire year."

"I…thank you," he murmured, turning it over in his hands. The gym was top notch and very expensive. He looked back at Diggle, mouth open to say something even as his brain stuttered. It was still strange, feeling examples of kindness that were genuine rather than a political play.

"Nobody move, I am getting my camera—John do not roll your eyes at me," Carly ordered.

"Oliver did it first."

Oliver gave John a look, because yes, he had rolled his eyes first, but Carly hadn't seen that.

She hopped up and grabbed her camera, snapping several obligatory photos before dropping back down beside AJ.

"How you two eaten?" Carly asked, turning concerned eyes to Oliver and Sara. "We have scones, hot chocolate, eggs, sausage…"

The rest of the day was spent comfortably, reminding Oliver what it was like to be around people that knew and cared for him. Sara warmed up quickly, stowing away her previous doubts. Carly manned the kitchen, roping people in to make sweet potatoes and rolls and green beans.

It was similar to the quirky clockwork of Felicity's family, but it had its own edge to it. Oliver remembered Felicity's shock at his revelation of being estranged from his family, how family had been so vital to her. It hadn't quite made sense to him, the image of his stilted and stifled family just after the accident flickering in his head. But now, looking at these people, he understood. Family, for all of its flaws, made things better. And it was a damn shame that he didn't make more of what he had.

Around noon, Oliver's phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it, surprised to find a text from Felicity.

Merry Christmas, it said. Hope your day's going well.

"What're you grinning at?" Sara asked, looking at him over a bowl of potatoes she was mashing.

"'Who' is a better question. We're the only friends he has," Diggle said from where he was making an apple pie. Oliver rolled his eyes and responded to Felicity.

thank you, it's going very well.

He held his breath, thumb hovering over 'send'.

and how's your day? he added, then sent the text before he could second guess himself.

"Looks like it's a girl," Sara teased, reading the text over his shoulder. She waggled her eyebrows at him, a smug grin on her face.

"That's extra impossible, that means she'd have to talk to him."

Oliver was really beginning to regret properly introducing Diggle and Sara.

He texted Felicity throughout the afternoon, the two of them staying on light, airy subjects. He smiled at her use of caps and emoticons, the text version of strange voices and hand gestures.

"Okay, seriously though, who are you texting?" Diggle finally asked, forcefully closing the oven after checking the ham.

"It's Felicity," he said, hoping to brush off his curiosity with the pretense of work.

"Felicity?" Sara asked, perking from where she was playing with AJ at the counter. Oliver mentally groaned. "Who's Felicity?"

"This girl that hired Oliver to be her boyfriend for the holidays," Lyla said, stopping in the kitchen to get a drink.

"Really?" Sara asked. Oliver did not like the look she gave him. "How'd you get out of spending Christmas with her?"

"She's Jewish." He instantly regretted his quick response when her eyes brightened.

"So that's the person you spent Hanukkah with."

"Yes."

"This has got to be more than work with how much you've been grinning," Diggle observed.

"Maybe she's sending him dirty texts," Sara said, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

"They are not," he snapped. Sara only looked smug in the face of his scowl.

"You'll have to tell me about her sometime, Oliver," she sing-songed. "She's gotta be special if you're texting her this much."

"She's not—I'm not—it's nothing."

"Sure," Lyla said, shaking her head and leaving the kitchen.

Dinner was pleasant, a haze of good foods and good moods. Oliver was reluctant to leave, but Sara had announced that she would be checking in with other friends the following day and wanted to get an early start. They politely declined Carly's offer of a car ride (she lived on the other side of town and she had planned on staying late), then left Diggle's apartment after several long good-byes and containers of leftovers that had been forced into their hands.

"I like them," Sara declared as they descended the steps to the street. "John's…not the scary hardass I always imagined him to be."

"Yeah, his mood is always better when you're not trying to sneak out to go drag racing with bikini models."

"Okay, one, rude you should have invited me to that. And two, I feel like it was the copious amounts of alcohol at those events that pissed him off."

Oliver laughed, recalling Diggle's annoyed lectures on his role of keeping the Queen family safe and how Oliver had been actively trying to undermine that. They had seemed funny when not dead boring, because Oliver had had no intentions to stop. But he had valued Diggle's doggedness after the wreck when he had been the only person willing to bark at Oliver over the pity party he had been throwing.

The bus ride home was quiet and Sara made quick work of her things after they got home. Oliver wondered who she planned on seeing the following day. Had she kept up with old friends or had she cast off her old life, just as Oliver had? Did she plan on including her family in the mix?

The next morning Sara left early. Oliver helped her fold up blankets from the floor, fed her a bowl of cereal, then she was ready to go.

"Thanks for the place to stay," she said, rocking on her heels. "I hadn't planned on hanging around for so long, but…it was nice to catch up."

"It was my pleasure," he said, smiling at her. Sara grinned, then pulled him into a hug.

"And thanks for the honey," she murmured, then pulled away. "Christmas was…very nice."

"We should do it again sometime." Oliver smiled as he said it, but he also wondered if their paths would again intersect.

"Definitely. Maybe I'll bring Nyssa along," she laughed, walking to the door.

"Have a safe trip."

"Alright, thanks. And don't forget to ask out Felicity!"

Oliver rolled his eyes and closed the door.

AN okay so be honest how many of you thought i was going to complicate the plot by throwing sara in there.