A/N: I will have you know that this measly one-shot was roughly 6 months in the making - or however long ago 2x05 aired. That should tell you everything you need to know about my writing abilities. Also, it is literally THE trope, with a dash of the Birds of Prey, because why not?

Tricks of the Trade

And it was going perfectly.

They got in, blended in with the crowd, subsequently snuck away from said crowd and into the more private section of Morgan Edge's mansion, broke into his computer and downloaded the files. And then, just as they were retracing their steps and heading back to the reception area, they heard someone heading in their direction.

"You have incoming," Helena's voice echoed in both their earpieces, sounding almost bored. She could at least try, Felicity thought. Just because she was temporarily incapacitated and relegated from field work to tech support didn't mean she couldn't at least feign some enthusiasm. She's so passive-aggressive.

"You're supposed to give us more warning than that," Sara spoke lowly, sounding as irritated as Felicity felt; though considerably less panicky.

"Well, I'm no Oracle, am I?" came Helena's smart-ass reply; her broken leg was really bringing forth her sunny personality.

Sara huffed under her breath, then turned to Felicity; the footsteps were getting closer. "How many are there?" she directed her question at Helena.

"Two heat signatures."

"I can take them on," Sara said, to Felicity this time.

Felicity shook her head. "We can't draw attention," she muttered, the adrenaline making her heart thump. "We're supposed to be in then out without notice, and if you beat them to bloody pulps, it's definitely going to draw attention, and then there'll be more of them, and that'll draw even more attention, which will be bad, because I'm supposed to be just an IT expert and you're supposed to be – well, something other than a former League of Assassins' assassin, and – "

"Felicity," Sara cut her off, planting two warm hands on her shoulders. "Take a breath."

She did as she was told, closing her eyes in the process.

"You may want to hurry," Helena said. "They'll be on you in thirty seconds."

Smart-ass, Felicity thought.

"What do you want to do?" Sara's soft query broke her inner freak-out, and Felicity opened her eyes to meet Sara's clear blue ones; she was always calm in the face of danger or unforeseen circumstances, and Felicity often drew on that to steady herself. To have the confidence to see the obstacle through. What gave her even more confidence, though, was Sara's unwavering trust in her. Every time, she would ask for Felicity's thoughts, for the plan of action she considered best; and every time, she would get that look in her eyes, like whatever Felicity said next would be the greatest thing since sliced bread.

She had that same look now, and Felicity got a little distracted; it happened every now and then. Well, most of the time these days. She would find herself staring, and counting the freckles on Sara's skin. Thinking about running her fingers over her brow, her cheeks – her mouth. Sometimes, she thought about –

"Felicity?"

Oh, right. Dangerous and unforeseen mission development. That took precedence over – yes, the mission.

"Umm – " She cleared her throat, then tried again. "I am in favor of anything that doesn't involve you having to get violent."

"If you don't figure it out right now, violence will be the only option you have left."

She was so not helpful!

Her irritation at Helena ebbed away as she felt Sara drag her hands from her shoulders down her arms, then back up again; to get her to focus.

"I've an idea," Felicity blurted out. "I mean, it's bad. Like, cliché spy rom-com bad, but – yeah, I've got nothing else."

Sara seemed to understand exactly what her bad idea was, if the way her eyes dropped down to Felicity's lips was any indication. "Okay," she said softly, which – just did not sound like an agreement to a platonic exchange of saliva to throw a bad guy's muscle off their trail at all.

There was absolutely nothing platonic about that tone, in fact, it was the least platonic tone she had ever heard and – wait, when did her back end up pressed against the wall?

And Sara to – well, her?

It was just the brush of her chest against her own and her hands hovering an inch away from her cheeks. Sara pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth, and Felicity's eyes stayed on the faint marks it left; she licked her own lips, and leaned forward.

She caught Sara's lips with her own, lingering in the moment until she felt the other woman's hands cupping her cheeks, holding her in place. Felicity raised hers, from where they had been at her sides, and laid them on Sara's hips; she couldn't help but grip tighter, wrinkling the smooth fabric of her black dress.

Sara let out a soft moan, which Felicity took as her cue to deepen the kiss. She nipped at Sara's lips, sucked on her bottom one just for fun, and lightly flicked her tongue inside her mouth; Sara tasted like the cherry gloss Felicity had seen her put on in the clocktower, and the champagne they'd only sipped on for show. Sara's hands were on her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, then her fingers were grasping at her hair and angling her head for better access, just as she pushed one of her legs between Felicity's, and tilted her hips to grind against her – not hard, or rough; just enough to make Felicity moan, too.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, Felicity was aware that someone was clearing their throat.

Loudly. And repeatedly.

Sara pried her lips away from hers to whip her head to the side. "Do you mind?" she snapped, and the irritation in her voice sounded very genuine.

"This is a restricted area," the tall, buff guard informed flatly. "You can't be here."

"Well," Sara said, slowly moving away from Felicity's hold, "I don't think any of the guests would have appreciated the show, do you? We just wanted a little privacy."

"Still a restricted area, ma'am," the second guard backed up his buddy.

Sara huffed. "Fine." She turned back to Felicity, extending her hand to her; she broke character only for a moment, to slip in a quick wink. Felicity stifled her urge to grin and did her best to rein in on the thumping of her heart, because all of this – it meant something. And there was still more waiting to play out.

She took Sara's hand, enjoying the squeeze of her fingers as she began leading them away. Just as they were about to walk past him, the second guard raised his hand, leaning to the side. "There's a small balcony, right stairwell, second floor," he said, "that I think may be more to your liking."

Felicity kept blinking at the man, until Sara gave him a quick nod of thanks and they were moving again. It only really occurred to Felicity a little late that she probably ought to thank him as well. "Thank you!" she called over shoulder, and heard Sara chuckle even as she was dragging her away.

"I would just like to say," Helena's voice rang through the earpieces, "that I called this way, way back."

There was no mistaking what she was talking about. If Felicity remembered their early months in the crime-fighting business correctly, Helena's exact words were, "Do you two have a thing for each other or something?"

A few more steps and they were out of the 'restricted area', right at the foot of the two-way stairwell. "We're in the clear, we have the files," Sara spoke into the comm. "We'll meet you back at base in an hour. Maybe. Canary out."

With those parting words, she terminated her link; a second later, Felicity followed suit.

And then they just stood there in the ensuing silence.

Helena hadn't been wrong. They definitely had a thing for each other, and that was never clearer to Felicity than tonight. It had always been there, sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker – after all, the first thing Sara had ever said to her was that she was cute. And every now and then, she still called her that.

Now, however, she seemed to be having a hard time keeping her eyes off her lips.

Making an executive decision, Felicity stuck a thumb out over her shoulder and said, "Balcony's that way."