For Eilowyn, for her birthday

Show Me Your Bitch Face

By JA Ingram

Felicity sat in front of her workstation, her fingers flying over the keys to the steady slap of hands against the polished teak slats of the Wing Chun dummy. She'd learned to absorb the sounds of the foundry around her like a meditation, all the noises working together in a soothing symphony.

SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP –pause- SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP goes the Wing Chun dummy.

CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK –pause- CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK goes the cold steel of the escrima sticks.

CLANG *grunt* -pause- CLANG *grunt* -pause- goes the salmon ladder.

It's almost like the old childhood song, 'The Wheels of the Bus', only it's the 'Workout of Team Arrow', but lately it hadn't been as soothing as it normally was because there was an intruder in her Garden of Zen and Shirtless Men and that was Laurel Lance.

When Dig, Roy, and Oliver worked out it wasn't just about being in top condition so they could do the work of heroes, it was about relaxing. It was muscle memory and training their bodies to crave the torture they put themselves through. Was it her idea of fun? No. No, her idea of fun was pretending that eating an entire bag of BBQ flavored Baked Lays didn't count because it was baked and not fried. She did not like to work out, she hated the gym, and fuck fat free anything. Give her fat, give her food, and give her ass a comfy cushion to veg out on while she ate her way through un-fried decadence sprinkled liberally with barbecue powder. Cheetos worked, too. What didn't work?

Laurel's constant Eye of the Tiger routine that had been playing out for weeks now.

For the last several weeks she'd had to put up with watching this woman move from one station to the other, sweating and cursing, and generally being way the hell too intense while her guys were out in the field. Laurel never talked to her, never spoke, unless of course it was to bark out an order in as rude a tone as possible. And she tried, she did. Felicity had tried a million times to engage the woman in polite conversation only to have her look at her like she had a booger hanging out of her nose or something. Honestly, it was getting on her nerves fast. Yes, her sister died and she had the right to be stressed out but she loved Sara, too. They all did and, yes, losing a friend wasn't the same as losing a sister, but she was so goddamn grim about it all the time. What's worse is she would lash out and attack any and every one for no reason whatsoever and always with the excuse that her sister was dead and they should be doing more.

No one wanted to figure out the truth worse than her but there was the straw and the camel's back and the next time Laurel showed Felicity her bitch face that camel was in for some serious pain.

The men, of course, were useless. Diggle was half dead due to lack of sleep caused by trying to care for a newborn, Roy was being weird and shifty, and Oliver…

She sighed. She was two seconds from giving up on Oliver. She spent the last three years head over heels in love with him and now she could barely stand to look at him, not because he broke up with her, kissed her, then half-ass told her he loved her (in that order), but because of the Laurel thing. Every time Laurel would snap at him with her snarling bitch face routine or do her whiny, 'BUT OLLLIIIEEE!' voice she just wanted to smack the ever living shit out of him and tell him to grow a pair.

She never said it out loud though. She should, she was tempted, but she kept it on the inside. Every time someone would snap at her or Oliver would give her that lingering sad look designed to make her feel like *she* was the one who dumped him, she wanted to scream…but she didn't. No, Felicity Smoak was the light, the sun, the last great hope of Team Arrow. That was her job.

Laurel burst out with another string of filthy curses but Felicity merely closed her eyes, tilted her head to the side, and reminded herself that she was the light, she was the sun, happy Felicity, nice Felicity.

The beating heart of Team Arrow.

Balls.

"Felicity!" Laurel snapped, tugging off her sparring gloves forcefully and tossing them haphazardly down on the floor where someone (not her) would have to pick them up later. "Are you looking for that information I asked for or taking a nap?"

Felicity leaned back in her chair and slooooowly spun around, her expression calm and collected, "Excuse me?"

"My sister's killer is out there and you're sitting there daydreaming," she growled.

Okay, fuck this. You want to see bitch face? She thought, well hold on to your girdle, sister; you're about to see bitch face.

"I'm actually waiting for some searches to come back but you're right," she said with a bright smile. "I am feeling a bit tired. Maybe if we sparred that might help me get my adrenaline pumping and clear the cobwebs?"

Laurel looked at her in surprise, "You want to spar? With me?"

"Well, you look like you could use a partner and I can't do anything more until these searches come back…"

Laurel chuckled humorlessly then gave her a patronizing look, "I wouldn't want to hurt you. Besides, I doubt Ollie would appreciate it if I put his assistant in the emergency room."

She kept her smile in place by sheer will alone, "Actually Laurel, I haven't been Oliver's assistant for a while now. Even when I was his EA, down here he wasn't my boss; I was his partner."

"Right," Laurel said with a brittle half-smile. "My mistake."

"As for you putting me in the emergency room," she said as she got to her feet, "I think I can handle it."

"Felicity," she said with a slight edge of condescension, "My dad is a cop and I've been studying martial arts since I was a kid and boxing for several months now…"

'Then why is your stance for shit?' is what she *wanted* to say, what she actually said was, "Well, I took a few self-defense classes with my mom a long time ago and I've watched the guys for a few years now; I think I can handle it."

"Fine by me," Laurel said easily, her eyes glittering maliciously in the muted light of the foundry.

Felicity wasn't stupid. She knew Laurel didn't like her, she also knew the other woman was itching for a scrap, didn't matter who with, but she also knew something the other woman didn't, and that was how the real Canary fought.

And how did she know that? She knew because Sara was the one who trained her.

She owed Sara so, in her memory, she was about to do the sisterly thing and drag Laurel's head out of her own ass even if she had to do it by force, Sara Lance style.

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A few minutes later she was in her work out clothes on the mats squaring up against Laurel. The other woman was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her hands raised and her elbows tucked in a classic boxer's form. This didn't surprise her since she was well aware of the fact that Wildcat had been training her at his gym for the last several weeks, and if this was a boxing match she'd be in fine form, but it wasn't.

This was a street fight.

There were no rules in a street fight, no forms to observe; it was about power and maneuverability, two things Laurel's stiff form and practiced movements wouldn't allow her. Unlike Laurel, Felicity didn't bounce on her feet, didn't fidget or feint, instead she kept her form loose and her eyes open.

Laurel's punch came at her, a straight jab to the face. Felicity moved to the side then ducked under the second blow, a high left hook that was again aimed at her nose.

Apparently Laurel had never heard the boxer's axiom, 'kill the body and the head will die'. Either that or she just really wanted to punch her in her face.

The other woman swung twice more, both easily dodged by Felicity who had yet to swing even once. She could see the color come into the other woman's cheeks as she became frustrated and waited until her anger got away from her. Laurel swung at her in a wide sweep before pivoting with her hips and bringing up her leg in a roundhouse kick which Felicity, once again, handily avoided.

By now Laurel was huffing and puffing in frustration and exhaustion. The front of her tee-shirt that was damp before they began was now soaked through while Felicity had yet to break a sweat. Part of her brain acknowledged the opening of the foundry doors and the arrival of her team mates but she chose to ignore it, not taking her eyes of her opponent for a second.

She doubted Laurel's aggression was truly aimed towards her but was instead merely a need to dominate something, anything. It wasn't really personal because Laurel had never seen her as a person; she was an object, something beneath her notice unless she needed her. Felicity, to Laurel, was a machine; she had no value as a human being and therefore was afforded little or no respect.

Well, that was about to change. She heard Roy and Diggle speaking but didn't bother interpreting their words, instead she waited. Laurel lunged at her—one, two, three, four rapid punches in succession, all dodged, then followed up with a straight kick towards her solar plexus.

Now it was time to act.

Felicity waited for her foot to come up to her abdomen then grabbed it, swinging her body around, and allowing their shared momentum to do most of the work. Off balance, Laurel hit the mats hard then sprang back up with a cry and began punching wildly again.

She dodged each and every blow, keeping her spatial awareness sharp. She wasn't stupid; she knew Laurel was crowding her and trying to get her into a corner. From the back of her mind she could hear Dig's low rumble followed by Oliver's more strident tones but she wasn't in the mood to deal with his manpain bullshit at the moment. No, this fight was a 'just us girls' thing and she intended to keep it that way.

It was because of her focus that, when the moment came, she didn't miss it. Laurel lunged, frustration and anger throwing her off balance. Her upper body was bent towards her, her legs overextended, and as she came into her personal space, Felicity pivoted to the side, one hand going to support the back of Laurel's neck while the over slapped over the front of her face. She dropped to one knee hard, the pull of gravity causing the other woman's knees to give as she took her down to the mat. Laurel hit it hard, Felicity's hand saving her from whiplash but she still had the wind knocked out of her from the force of the take down.

Felicity snapped back up and returned to a fighting stance as she heard Roy say, "Holy crap!"

The other woman sprang to her feet, her face purple with rage as she gritted her teeth and swung again, only to miss. Laurel gave a frustrated cry and tried to barrel into her in a clumsy grapple. Sensing that Oliver was two seconds from stopping the fight she knew it was time to make a statement.

This time she didn't dodge. She let Laurel come right at her and as soon as she entered her kill box she raised her fists and punched her right in both tits. She saw her eyes go wide with pain but before she could suck in a shocked breath, Felicity brought her leg up and kicked her in the girl basket before finishing her with an elbow to the face.

Laurel went down hard and, this time, she wasn't getting back up.

"Damn!" Roy hissed from the sidelines as Oliver rushed forward to check on Laurel with was sobbing for breath as she held one arm across her very sore breasts while her other hand cupped her now throbbing genitals.

"What the hell?" Oliver said angrily as he glared up at her.

"What do you mean?" She asked innocently, "We were just sparring." She looked down at Laurel, "You okay down there?"

"ooowwww…" Laurel moaned as she held her knees tightly together, her eyes watering.

"Do you need to take a break?" She asked.

"I think both of you need to take a break!" Oliver bit out before looking into Laurel's eyes, his hand cupping her cheek tenderly. "Are you okay? Can you breathe?"

Dig threw Oliver a dirty look before stepping up beside Felicity, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said smoothly. "Laurel just wanted to spar so I volunteered."

"You call that sparring?" Oliver said angrily.

"Yes," Laurel said in irritation as she struggled to her feet, pushing him off her. Tears were still coursing down her cheeks but she offered Felicity a look of respect, "Where did you learn that?"

"The Krav Maga? Sara taught me," she said easily. "She said it was perfect for small statured people like us."

"When did Sara teach you Krav Maga?" Oliver asked in confusion and annoyance.

"Probably when you had your head too far up your ass to notice." At Oliver's shocked expression, she paused, "Oops, did I say that out loud?" She turned to Dig and Roy who both nodded slowly. "Oh well, but yeah; Sara taught me."

Laurel's face contorted in pain as she rubbed her left tit, "Can you teach me?"

"I can," Felicity said roundly. "Will I? I don't know. I think Dig would be a better teacher for you given he has more experience." Laurel opened her mouth to turn to Dig when she cut in, "However I doubt Dig will since he's a bit busy at the moment what with taking care of his family and keeping Oliver alive."

Dig blinked in surprise, "Uh, she's right. Sorry, but I'm afraid I don't have the time."

Laurel looked to Roy but before she could ask, Felicity cut in once more, "Same thing with Roy and, since Oliver already turned you down once and, since we all know how Oliver is when it comes to saying he can't do things, I guess that leaves me." Again, Oliver offered her a look as if he'd been struck, "Oops, another slip. So sorry about that."

"Slip, right," Oliver grumbled.

"So are you going to teach me or what? Laurel asked testily, holding her arms across her chest still.

"I don't know; can you ask me to teach you without it sounding like an order?"

The other woman's mouth opened and closed a few times before she blushed crimson and shifted her weight uneasily, "I'm…sorry. Can you please teach me what Sara taught you?"

"Sure," she chirped happily, breaking out in a sunny grin, "On one condition."

"Which is?" She asked hesitantly.

"From here on out, whenever you address any member of Team Arrow, including Oliver, you will do so in a respectful manner." Laurel opened her mouth to speak but Felicity cut her off, "And when you address me specifically, or when you need information from me, you will preface the request with a 'please' and end it with a 'thank you'; are we clear?"

"Clear," Laurel said in a slightly more subdued tone. "And thank you."

"My pleasure," Felicity said, her smile broadening. She turned to the boys who now appeared dumbstruck as they looked on. "Now if you gentleman will excuse us, I think we need to hit the showers. Need some help?" She asked Laurel who stumbled on her feet slightly.

"I'm good, thanks," she said straightening. "Hey, um, maybe we can go for coffee or something later?"

"Sounds good," Felicity agreed.

She waited for Laurel to step in line with her before they both made their way towards the changing and showering area. As she left the room she heard the men as they began to talk amongst themselves.

"What the hell was that?" Oliver asked in confusion.

"I don't know but, whatever the hell it was, it was long past due if you ask me," Diggle said ruefully.

"Hey," Roy cut in, "is it just me or did you guys know that you could kick a girl in the balls?"

She smiled.

End.