Look at your feet. You are standing in the sky. When we think of the sky, we tend to look up, but the sky actually begins at the earth."

-Diane Ackerman

The first time Parker kisses Sophie, it's an impulse born of adrenaline. They have just done a job that involved all of Parker's favorite things- stealing a lot of money, getting some really bad guys, and diving off a building- and there is a warm, light feeling in her chest that Parker has learned recently to define as happiness.

In her ear, she can hear Eliot and Hardison arguing over the comm, but she's not really paying attention to them. Instead, she's listening to the pounding of her own heart and looking at the flush of excitement on Sophie's face.

Sophie has been teaching her about a lot of things, and one is how most people like human contact. Parker still doesn't like it much, but she knows Sophie does, so she leans forward and brushes a delighted kiss against Sophie's cheek, feeling the warm, smooth skin beneath her lips.

When Sophie blinks and stares at her, Parker grins back. "Want to do it again?" she asks as she bounces on the balls of her feet, ready to tumble off a skyscraper one more time. She loves the roar of the wind in her ears, the way her heart leaps to her throat every time she dives, the taste of adrenaline in her mouth as the ground seems to reach for her.

Something flickers in Sophie's eyes, but the look is gone before Parker can figure it out. "Perhaps another time," she says with a quiet, throaty laugh. After a moment's pause, she links arms with Parker, leans in close so that Parker can feel her warm breath against her ear. Sophie's tone is bright and merry, like she's about to tell a joke. "We've earned ourselves a girl's night out, I think."

Parker isn't sure what a girl's night is - something you do when you're not in foster-care or a thief, apparently - but she figures it is what it sounds like. Besides, anything with Sophie is going to be fun or exciting (probably both).

"Okay," she says, and is rewarded by Sophie's smile.

"What do you do on a girl's night out?" Parker asks Hardison the next day.

Both of his eyebrows rise, and she must have something wrong, because he's giving her that look he wore when she tried to explain how soothing it is to hang suspended in an abandoned elevator shaft for an hour or two.

"Parker, look at me." Hardison waves a hand at himself. "When have I ever seemed less than masculine?"

Parker wrinkles her nose, thinking it over. "Well, you wore cologne that Eliot called girly when you did the speed dating thing for the Martinez con," she says. This earns her a sound of outrage.

"Wearing cologne is very manly, Parker. Very. And that cologne wasn't girly, Eliot is just- but you're missing the point here. I am, in fact, male. Therefore, I have no idea what goes on during girl's nights."

"Oh." Parker worries her lower lip. This may be harder than she thought. "Sophie and I are going on one tomorrow, and I don't know what it is."

One of the things she likes best about Hardison's face is how expressive it is. She might not be able to figure out half the emotions twisting his face, but he's always fun to watch. Right now is no exception, because he's twisting his mouth and squinting at her. "You and Sophie are going out? That's...nice," he finally says after a moment; she recognizes doubt in his voice.

"You don't know anything about girl's nights out?" she asks again, just in case. Maybe she should call Maggie, although Sophie had said not to bother Maggie too often. Maggie has to have gone on girl's nights, though. She's the kind of person that draws people to her.

Hardison laughs a little. "Parker, all I know about them is based on, uh, adult entertainment and is, well, unrealistic, to say the least."

It takes a moment for Parker to figure that out. "Oh, porn."

"C-can we go back to talking about you and Sophie?" Hardison says, sounding a little choked. "Look, I would assume a girl's night out involves something you both would like. Like..." He trails off, frowning.

"Ooh, maybe we're going to steal something," Parker says, clapping her hands. That'd be fun.

"I don't think Sophie plans on- you know what, I don't know a third of what goes on in her head, you two might wind up stealing something from somebody."

A thought strikes her. "You don't think she'll take me to a play?" she whispers nervously. She winces a little remembering the last time Sophie had dragged everyone to a performance of...something. (It had involved purple cats. Parker still had nightmares.)

"No," Hardison says, and pats her on the shoulder. "Uh, but if she does, text me and I'll figure out an excuse to get you out of there."

"Thank you," she says, and pats him back. It earns her a smile.

A minute later, she adds, "Maybe you could sneak into Sophie's apartment, see what she's going to wear-"

"No," Hardison says firmly, and Parker sighs.

"Oh," Parker says, a little sadly, when she meets Sophie at the bar. "I wore the wrong thing." She's wearing comfortable dress pants, a blue frilly shirt Sophie had once complimented her on, and flats; looking at Sophie's bright red dress and three-inch heels, she feels under-dressed.

"That's all right, darling," Sophie says. "You look lovely."

Parker doesn't think that's true, but she doesn't argue. Maybe white lies are a part of girl's night. "You look really nice," she says instead. She sniffs the air a little. "You smell nice too."

"Thank you," Sophie says after a second, and takes Parker's arm again. "I've got a taxi waiting."

"Where are we going? Or is it a surprise?"

"We're going to my favorite restaurant," says Sophie, and Parker breathes a silent sigh of relief. No theatre then.

Parker feels even more out of place when they get to the restaurant- the place looks like a movie set, with the waiters all in black and the menus all in French. Sophie seems to like it here, though, greeting their waiter with a fond, "Bonsoir, Michel."

"Hi," Parker says quietly, and the waiter smiles at her.

"And who is your charming friend, Madame Monet?" he asks.

"I'm Parker," Parker says, not bothering with an alias.

"Someone I work with," Sophie says. "Now, about dinner..." She proceeds to order for them both in flawless French.

Parker sits there and listens. She doesn't speak a word of French, but it sounds nice, Sophie's voice curling around the words. She's almost sad when Sophie finishes her conversation and Michel vanishes.

"What did you order?" she asks.

"Oh, I ordered us an appetizer: avocado and eggs with crab mousse. Then, for the main course, fillet of chicken with Roquefort sauce and sautéed potatoes. The dessert will be a slice of apple pie."

"I love apple pie," Parker says. It's her favorite dessert, which she suspects Sophie knows. She almost claps her hands in delight before she remembers where they are. Instead, she settles for smiling at Sophie.

"I know you don't drink wine, but I hope you don't mind if I indulge," Sophie says.

"No," Parker says. She's not surprised Sophie noticed she doesn't drink wine. Whisky, sometimes, because she likes the way it burns, but not wine, not usually. Sophie notices things, both because she's a grifter and because she's Sophie. Parker settles back in her chair and plays with the glass of water Michel set out for her. "This is your favorite restaurant?"

"My favorite in this city," Sophie says. The room is dim, and her face is illuminated by flickering candlelight, but Parker can see her smile. "The chef is brilliant."

There's silence for a moment. Parker is certain that a girl's night out doesn't involve everyone being quiet, so she says, "When it's my turn for girl's night, do you want to go hang-gliding?"

"Hang-gliding?" Sophie's eyes widen at that. "I-" Then Sophie smiles. "That sounds quite exciting, actually. I'd love to."

"Or we could steal something," Parker offers. "Though Hardison thought that wasn't a good idea for a girl's night. I think it'd be fun, though! ...As long as Nate doesn't find out." She thinks of Nate's disapproving look and winces.

"I think we'll try the hang-gliding first," Sophie says, sounding amused.

Parker imagines Sophie's face turned pink by the wind, her hair in disarray, and a warm feeling settles into her chest. She can't wait for next time. "Good," she says.

Sophie reaches out, her fingertips lightly brushing Parker's right hand. Parker shivers a little at the unexpected contact, but doesn't move her hand away.

"Parker-" Sophie says, and then stops with a quiet laugh. "Later," she says, when Parker tilts her head in question. "After dinner, I think."

"Okay," Parker says, and tries not to wonder about it as Sophie withdraws her hand. She can still feel the pressure of Sophie's fingers though, a warmth that settles into her skin and lingers. She licks her lips, suddenly thirsty, and reaches for her water.

They talk about a handful of things- what Sophie thought of Monet's "Beach in Pourville" being found after ten years, the first time Parker had ever broken into a Meilink TL-30, whether or not Sophie knows who stole that Van Gogh from Egypt- and Parker enjoys the meal a lot. Sophie is fun to talk to, and the meal is delicious, especially the apple pie, which makes her practically moan in delight. Michel even brings her a second slice to take home and enjoy later.

Afterwards, as they are standing outside the restaurant waiting for their taxi to arrive, Sophie clears her throat. Oh, Parker thinks, it is after dinner, after all.

"Parker," Sophie says. Parker doesn't recognize her tone of voice. She knows Sophie's "seducing the mark" voices and even Sophie's "horrible acting" voice, but she doesn't know this voice at all, low and husky and little tentative.

"Yes?" she says, when Sophie doesn't say anything else. It is a cool night; a slight breeze raises goosebumps and she wraps her arms around herself as she waits for Sophie to say something.

Sophie meets her eyes then, a small smile curving her lips. "I was wondering if you'd like to come over tonight. To my flat."

Parker is about to ask what a flat is when she remembers it means apartment. "Your place?" she says, and Sophie nods.

Parker hesitates. Sophie has been teaching her about people, their feelings and motivations, and as she thinks about the cautious way Sophie had invited her over, Parker suspects she's missing part of Sophie's motivation tonight.

"I'm missing something," she announces. "Why are you so nervous about asking me to your apart- flat?"

Sophie laughs again, and it's a little rueful. "I am coming at this sideways, aren't I? I suppose you'd prefer directness."

"Yes," Parker says. "Otherwise it gets confusing."

Sophie licks her lips. "If you are willing," she says slowly, "I would like to think of the dinner we just had as a date. I would also like to invite you back to my flat, where I can kiss you in private. If you aren't willing, of course, we can look upon the dinner as a fun girl's night and forget about-"

"Oh!" Parker can't help the giggle that escapes her then as all the pieces come together like a combination lock.

Sophie raises an eyebrow. "Was that a good giggle or a bad giggle?" she asks.

"It's just- Hardison's videos were right," Parker says, giggling helplessly. She looks at Sophie, really looks at her, and thinks. Thinks about how warm Sophie's cheek had been against her lips and the gentleness in Sophie's fingers as she touched her hand, how fun Sophie is to talk to, how Sophie understands her more often than most. Thinks about what her life would be like, without Sophie in it.

Sophie just smiles and waits, even as the taxi pulls up and the cabbie sticks his head out and asks, "You Ms. Monet?"

"That's us," Parker says, and takes Sophie's hand. "Yes," she adds, in case Sophie hadn't gotten the message.

When they climb into the taxi, she slides in close, rests her head on Sophie's shoulder.

"I really like girl's nights," she confides, and breathes in Sophie's scent as Sophie laughs.