.

.

Undercover wasn't a problem. Well, it usually wasn't a problem.

Y'know… everything in perspective until the building explodes.

Felicity dangles helplessly, about twenty stories up, clutching on Black Canary's belted waist with both hands as the vigilante experts hooks them together. Debris and ashes clog up the air. Felicity's lost her glasses.

"Have I ever mentioned… h-how much I don't like heights?" she stammers.

"Take it easy, you've got you."

"So what's got us?"

Black Canary gives her a quick, close-lipped smile. It's meant to be reassuring but crappity crap, Felicity's heart is gonna hammer straight out of her chest at this rate. Do not look down. Not even for a minute.

"De-cel line," she says, latex-black fingers tight to the grappling gun above their heads. "It'll lower us as far as it can."

"What if it's not low enough?" Felicity hates being the voice of obvious pessimism here. They're really… really high up.

"Ha, I've had worse." Black Canary — Sara freakin' Lance, Sara lets out a breathless laugh, and then stops at Felicity's whimper. "Diggle's on his way, don't worry. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Felicity."

The air is cloudy, almost grayish within the ruined building. What looks like ashes cling to the tips of Sara's long eyelashes through her mask.

"Wow, you're really pretty," Felicity says in an absent voice, looking up at her momentary savior with undisguised reverence. She then strains her features up, blue eyes squeezing. Heat rises in her cheeks.

"Can… we pretend I didn't just say that?"

Sara grins the biggest grin Felicity's ever seen in her life.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

.

.

She can see Oliver barely restraining himself from a long-winded but soft-spoken scolding about their immediate safety and the team's concern.

Felicity shuts him, and everyone else, out. She has to.

Her apartment is bathing in dull, ginger-colored lights, surrounded by the background humming of her AC. Felicity slumps off her heels, wincing and dragging herself to her bathroom. The flower-blooms of greyish mold still infesting the ceiling.

She's tempted to nod off in the soothing, hot bathwater. Her leg and arm muscles strain and ache, from previous tension, from the adventurous rescue. Felicity's mind wanders to — you know who, and is she lying in the tub as well, wiggling her naked, pretty toes in lavender-scented suds?

Pretty.

She called Sara pretty, and meant it, and pretty much meant it even with the adrenaline wearing off and close to fainting.

Felicity groans and dunks her head into the water, spitting out a mouthful.

.

.

There's no meadow this bright or sunny anywhere near Starling City.

Or so much green — that wasn't associated with, well, arrows.

Felicity wanders around, shielding her eyes as she spots a long-limbed woman bending over to pick the wild flowers. There's no scars on Sara's muscular body exposed by her rolled up jean shorts or the open-back, halter top.

She's sun-kissed, almost glowing. The air is warm, buzzing with insects and Felicity thinks she can hear Thea's laughter in the distance.

Sara gestures her over, her hair lemon-spice yellow and her lips a touch of candy-red. It's like matte and salty-skin against Felicity's mouth, when they kiss, slow, slow in a heartbeat-pace.

"I've got you," Sara murmurs, holding Felicity's pink-flushed face. Her fingers smell like dirt, and blood, and her smile grows so big—

—and Felicity jerks awake, nearly gasping, reaching out for her nightstand.

Her glasses missing.

Of course, she lost them in the building explosion.

"Crap," Felicity breathes out, banging her head to her fluffed pillows.

.

.

Maybe… maybe Sara does got her.

(But who has got them?)

.

.


Arrow is not mine. So this was supposed to be the June monthly challenge for the Femslash Big Bang but I went to hell with it cause too small and I didn't feel like making it bigger. WHATEVER. I started working on it last year I think, published on Tumblr, but I've extended it a bit. HOPE YOU ENJOY! ANY COMMENTS APPRECIATED.

Title inspired by this Virginia Woolf quote: "In case you ever foolishly forget: I am never not thinking of you".