I know it's been a while, and a lot of people have been asking for an update. Originally, I had a much longer chapter planned, but it's taking too long to come together, so I'm just posting the first part. If you want to know more about why this update has taken so long, see the end notes.

"Nyssa? Sara? Where are you?" Laurel shouted, pulling off her shoes and setting them neatly on the doormat next to Sara's haphazardly discarded sneakers. She didn't dare venture beyond the entryway but could hear muffled footfall on the stairs.

The footsteps were too deliberate to be Sara, and, sure enough, Nyssa strode in, a bounce in her step and the hem of a gray dress skimming her thighs as she brightly greeted her soon-to-be sister in-law, ushering her in and leading the way to the kitchen.

"Someone's in a good mood," Laurel observed, accepting a glass of water.

"Your sister has that effect." Met with a grimace, Nyssa rolled her eyes and defended, "Not everything is inherently sexual, Laurel. Should Sara's libido disappear tomorrow, I'd remain just as determined to spend the rest of my life with her. My happiness is not dependent on what's underneath her clothing."

Laurel nodded, then smirked, "Except that she's growing your kid under there."

"Yes," Nyssa agreed fondly, "except that."

"Well, rest assured my libido is on a safely upward trend," Sara chirped, skipping into the kitchen and launching herself up to perch on the counter.

"That's not reassuring," Laurel huffed without bothering to question her sister's eavesdropping.

Sara fisted a hand around the hem of Nyssa's dress and tugged her closer so she could brush her fingers through a loosely tangled set of curls. She snarked, "Hate to break it to you, Laurel, but my girl comes first. You'll have to get your reassurances elsewhere."

"Your girl?" Nyssa asked in a tone laced with disapproval.

"What? Is that not accurate? I'm pretty sure this," Sara grabbed Nyssa's left hand, "means mine." The ring glinted in the late morning light that was filtering in through the large windows.

"Perhaps, but we are not trapped in one of your dreadfully clichéd coming-of-age movies, Beloved."

Laurel snickered, "Yeah, Sara. Do better."

"Oh, shut up."

Nyssa was just reaching for the kettle when Sara's frown flipped into a grin, and she hopped down from her perch. The over-energized bouncing earned the blonde nothing more than a raised eyebrow, as Nyssa proceeded to turn on the sink and swing the open kettle under the faucet to fill it. Sara rounded the island to Laurel's side, dropped her elbows to the countertop, and propped her chin in her hands. It was the too-patient smile that piqued Nyssa's interest.

"What are you up to?"

Sara tilted her head slightly. "I can do better," she declared, chin still in her palms like some moony teen in an old-school diner with checkerboard linoleum.

"Oh?"

Her smile broadened, and she crooned, "I've got sunshine on a cloudy day."

Nyssa's forehead creased in confusion, but the corners of her mouth twitched up. "Do you?"

"When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May."

"It is May," Nyssa hummed.

Sara's head bounced from side to side as she continued, "I guess you'd say, what can make me feel this way?"

"What is it?" Laurel asked.

Sara grinned triumphantly and announced, "My girl."

"Persuasive," Nyssa acknowledged, "but I still prefer any of your many other terms of endearment."

"Sex kitten?" Sara asked, sliding across the hardwood on socked feet and wrapping her arms around her fiancée's waist.

Nyssa tilted her head in thought.

"I strongly veto that," Laurel declared emphatically.

"We just covered this, Laurel," Sara replied, slipping toward the island. "You don't get input."

"Sara," Nyssa said warningly. "Must I remind you again not to do that? You could hurt yourself."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Having fun?" she sighed dramatically, sliding around again, taking sprinting starts and twirling gracefully. "Live a little, babe."
The blonde proceeded to pull out several elegant and well-executed moves, seemingly proving her point, until her sock got caught on a sharp corner of baseboard, and she lost her balance, sitting down hard. She winced.

"You always have to be right, huh, Nys?"

"I'd rather not be," Nyssa countered. "Not when it is at your expense. Would you like help getting up?"

"No, I think I'll just sit here and sulk for a sec."

Laurel shook her head as Sara started lazily patting the floor around her. The routine was from their younger days, an old inside joke within the Lance family. But it would be new to Nyssa, so she let the other woman ask the necessary question.

Studying Sara's actions, Nyssa asked, "What on earth are you doing?"

"Looking for my dignity," Sara quipped instantly.

To Laurel's surprise, Nyssa's response was not the familiar eye roll, but a genuine laugh. From the floor, Sara beamed, far too proud for someone who'd just literally fallen on her ass. She thrust her right arm out at the same moment Nyssa reached down with her own, and they pulled together with practiced fluidity that was still unfamiliar to Laurel.

"Clever," Nyssa complimented, using the momentum to tug Sara closer and slide her hand from Sara's forearm to her waist. "Was it worth injuring yourself?"

"For that laugh? I'd do it again a hundred times."

"As charming as that is, I'd much rather you didn't."

Grinning, Sara teased, "Please. I won't even have a bruise. You're just worried people might believe I'm actually this clumsy."

"Yes," Nyssa said dryly, "the judgement of strangers is what keeps me up at night."

"Well, it shouldn't be. That's my job."

Nyssa reached back to turn off the stovetop burner under the whistling kettle. "Of course. How could I forget?"

"Okay," Laurel interrupted. "Before this gets out of hand… I come bearing gifts."

"Gifts?" Sara practically squealed.

Laurel reached into her bag. "There may have been some Girl Scouts on my corner when I left home this morning."

Pumping her fist, Sara lit up at the implication of what Laurel had brought. There was no good substitute for Girl Scout Cookies in Nanda Parbat—or anywhere in Asia, for that matter—and time travel wasn't really conducive to stopping for cookies. She cheered and held out her hands as Laurel pulled out a green box.

"Thin Mints!"

"I know you," Laurel replied, tossing the box to Sara.

Nyssa frowned as Sara tore open the box. "Cookies, Beloved? Isn't it a bit early?"

"Is it?" Sara asked, full of false innocence. "Because I'm suddenly craving Girl Scout Cookies. You wouldn't begrudge me satisfying a craving, would you, babe?"

"You know I wouldn't. Even one so fabricated as this. I watched you eat that repulsive concoction last night without complaint."

Laurel started to ask, "What—"

"You don't want to know," Sara promised. "Even I'm grossed out, in hindsight."

Sara held the box out to her sister, who happily took two cookies. Laurel set one on the marble counter, knowing Nyssa well enough to trust that the surface was clean. The other, she ate quickly, to avoid letting the chocolate coating melt between her fingers.

It required a lot of cajoling, but the sisters eventually convinced Nyssa to try one. She took a minuscule bite of the Thin Mint, chewed, and swallowed dutifully, like a child forced to eat asparagus. But her eyes widened. She looked from the cookie to Sara to Laurel and back to the cookie, then took a larger bite and let out a tiny moan of approval.

Sara and Laurel made astonished eye contact, and Sara whispered, "You learn something new every day."

"These Girl Scouts deserve commendation," Nyssa declared, mostly to herself.

Laurel padded over to the refrigerator for milk and hesitated for a moment with the door open, studying the contents. The fridge was both well-stocked and well-organized. A whole level was devoted to leafy greens and assorted vegetables. Product labels featured words like organic, which a younger Sara would've rolled her eyes at. Compared to the pint of skim Laurel kept for coffee, their gallon of whole milk seemed comically large. The whole picture was very domestic in a way that Laurel still didn't expect Sara to be; the reality of it hadn't really sunk in before.

Everything about Sara had always been transient. Sometimes she was serious; sometimes she was goofy. Sometimes she was a masked vigilante. She moved from place to place constantly. She couldn't even manage to stick to a vital status. But she was going to be a wife and a mother. That was about as permanent as you get.

"Hey, Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember that time Abigail made a crack about how I'd be spending my money on white paint for my picket fence, and you'd be blowing yours on beer and condoms?"

Sara's nose scrunched up as she replied, "Uh huh. Why?"

"No reason." Laurel shrugged, handing her a glass of milk. "Just felt like bringing it up." They stayed quiet for a minute, but she eventually added, "It's a good thing you won't need all that condom money. Kids are expensive."

Sara laughed. "Yeah. How ironic." Then her brow scrunched. "That is ironic, right?"

Laurel frowned, and both sisters turned to Nyssa, who blinked away her chocolate bliss with a look of disappointment.

"You may recall," the former assassin noted, "that, while you are both native English speakers, I am, in fact, not."

Neither Laurel nor Sara flinched.

"English is my third language."

The Lances remained patiently silent.

"This is pitiful," Nyssa protested. "But, yes, that would be a case of irony. And I, for one, am grateful that you haven't spent all our money on condoms."

"Only a little," Sara joked. "For special occasions."

Nyssa rolled her eyes and remarked, "I'm unsure why you'd have ever needed to spend money on such things. I distinctly recall you advising me—quite unsolicited—that "a dude who doesn't have the balls to buy his own condoms isn't worth your time." Is that not so? Or did you think my time was worth more than yours, Beloved?"

Laurel muttered her approval of the advice.

"Nys, whatever "advice" I was spouting back then was completely irrelevant. I was just trying to get you to come out." Nyssa started to object, but Sara insisted, "You were so far in the closet, I was worried you'd end up in Narnia."

"Wait a minute," Laurel interjected. "Really? But I thought…"

Sara shrugged. "It wasn't about being gay. Coming out meant admitting the capacity to care about something other than the League, and my dearest Nyssa was way too stubborn for that. At first, anyway."

"Oh, I'm stubborn, Beloved?"

"Should I list examples, Your Honor? Remember my first week of training, when I took a nunchuck to the head?"

Nyssa grimaced.

"And you said you wanted to check me for a concussion?"

"You were new and my responsibility. I merely wanted to ensure your well-being," Nyssa insisted.

Sara smirked. "You were staring at my chest while you said it."

"I—"

"And, somehow, that interaction ended with me apologizing."

"Yes. Well," Nyssa cleared her throat. "Perhaps I was right to doubt my own ability to prioritize. Here we are, and the League of Assassins is no more."

Sara tilted her head. "Are you saying you'd rather be ordering around nitwits in Nanda Parbat than going to prenatal appointments and Lamaze class?"

"You know the answer to that."

"Maybe you two should continue this later," Laurel recommended. "Thea will have a fit if we're late for the appointment with the caterer."

Nyssa frowned. "We have an appointment with the caterer?"

"We have a caterer?" Sara asked.

"And this is why you two are not planning your wedding," Laurel declared. "Come on, let's go."

Both Lance sisters headed towards the door, Sara grumbling quietly, but Nyssa hesitated, glancing longingly at the box of Girl Scout Cookies. She picked it up, as if to bring it with her, then set it down. Then she quickly picked it up again and grabbed a single Thin Mint. Taking a bite, she let out another small noise of satisfaction. She didn't even notice Sara loitering against the doorframe.

"Okay, calm down," Sara grunted flatly, snatching the box and shoving it in the cabinet. "I'm getting kinda jealous."

Nyssa raised an eyebrow. "Jealous? Do you have reason to be?"

"Not sure, but if you start swearing over a chocolate-coated biscuit, I'm going on strike."

"Somehow, I don't see you being particularly successful," Nyssa replied, licking a smear of chocolate off Sara's bottom lip.

From the entryway, Laurel shouted, "I swear, if you two aren't in the car in ten seconds…"

Sara grinned, gave Nyssa a quick kiss, and whispered, "Race ya." Then she plucked the rest of the cookie from her fiancée's fingers and took off.

"Sara Lance!" Nyssa cried, bounding after her. "Don't you dare!"

First off, I've struggled with my muse a bit for this story. The lack of conflict or defined plot makes me feel pretty aimless, and it's been hard to maintain the motivation to write constant fluff. Also, I've been dealing with a lot of loss the past few months. It's kinda hard to write happy when you're feeling sucky, and that goes hand in hand with my other issue to make a hell of a writer's block. I'm certainly not put off the fandom, though. Even if this story comes to an end soon, I have plenty more ideas floating around that I intend to follow through with.