A/N - Because why not?

Idiots and Spies

Emily cheered Sydney on as her digital avatar defended their team's flag from yet another onslaught from skyborn invaders. Sydney roared in triumph when Emily's grabbed the enemy flag and successfully escaped. A third point lit up the counter and Victory appeared on the screen. Their team had captured the enemy flag while they'd successfully defended it. Perfect teamwork. The friends gave each other high fives as the replay video ended. They'd played that particular match of capture the flag hundreds of miles apart, Sydney in Miami and Emily in Boulder, as they had many other games, was how they'd originally met.

Playing games had led to a fun online friendship and a curiosity about each other in real life. Emily had decided to make a delivery to Miami and meet Sydney about seven years ago. It would have been romantic if they weren't completely uninterested in the other like that. They were too much alike. Probably better this way. Their friendship was good, healthy, stable, and fun. And Emily had stolen Sydney away from Miami a couple months after her return from Thedas for a reprieve from the detectives following her everywhere.

"I salute you!" Emily roared her terrible imitation of the hero Sydney had used.

"Encore?" Sydney beautifully mimicked Emily's digital hero.

"That is not fair," scowled over Sydney's perfect Widowmaker voice. "You're already half French."

"And you don't have a sick French accent?" argued back. "I had to work hard to get the Mainer out of my French, you know, and it's still more Quebecoise than French!"

"Ugh." Emily huffed. "Putain. It's not just the accent, Syd. You can do the sultry whore thing too."

Long brown hair was fluffed and tossed over a shoulder as Sydney made a haughty expression. "Of course I can. I'm not only gorgeous, I'm fucking talented."

"Bitch."

"I kind of want to play now." Sydney dropped the facade and looked longingly at her laptop.

"We aren't in New York to play games." Emily shoulder bumped her friend. "We're here to sightsee."

"We did that all day," whined back. "Now there's nothing to do but watch games and listen to your whiny ass and sucky Reinhardt voice."

Dark eyes narrowed at her. "Putain," was thrown at her again as Emily brought up her phone and thumbed at it.

Figuring she'd insulted Emily enough that silence would fill the room for a while, Sydney sighed and tried to think of a way to apologize.

"Get dressed." Emily rolled off the bed. "We're going out."

All thoughts of being nice flew out of her head. "No. I'm so done with wearing a bra for the day! I'm not putting it back on just because you're bored. And I already took my makeup off."

"So leave the bra and makeup here. We're going." Emily's face was also sans cosmetics, her ocean of freckles on full display.

Sydney was a little jealous of them. Emily was so adorable. She didn't have Sydney's classic features and lithe dancer's frame that helped get Sydney dates and good tips at work, but she had no shortage of admirers. Emily was soft and cuddly and motherly and silly and driven. Damn, the woman was driven. That wasn't even a pun on what she did for a living, driving her truck around delivering pot.

No. Emily was driven to make sure her business was good, lucrative, lasting. She took care of her younger brothers and her deadbeat mom and anyone else she decided was a hatchling under her wing. Whoever finally put a ring on Em's finger would probably find herself adopting a dozen orphans.

Those pleasant thoughts about her friend and the sight of her lacing up sneakers had Sydney following suit. What was Em up to?

"No bra twinsies!" Emily giggled and poked at Sydney's larger bust.

"Hey! Keep your hands to yourself, washboard."

"Rude." She made a face at the jibe.

"It's rude to poke your friend's boobs."

"Whatever."

Sydney followed her out the door. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Twenty minutes walking got them to a subway station. Twenty more walking led to a pair of insanely bright pink double doors. A pair of young men stepped out as they arrived, loud, hectic, nearly abrasive noise following them. Emily flashed her taller friend a smirk as Sydney gaped at the rows and rows of tall, colorfully flashing machines with people standing in front of them flailing and screaming.

Sydney swore long and low in French about how the gods of entertainment had clearly smiled upon her and given her a dork for a friend like Emily. They were at an arcade.

"I love you too." Emily chuckled. "Let's go die horribly fighting zombies."

It was the middle of the next day, at the zoo in Central Park, when Sydney stopped suddenly. She twisted around, scowling at the sky as the hairs on her neck rose.

"What?" Emily glanced up, probably expecting a bird or balloon or helicopter. There was nothing. She went back to reading about the snow monkeys.

"I..." she scowled.

The tone pulled Em's gaze. She frowned at Sydney. "What is it?"

Sydney bit her lip. "It feels like a rift," was admitted quietly.

Emily stiffened, her eyes shooting around. She was one of three people who knew that Sydney had done a little world traveling. Worlds. Yet, unlike Josiah and Sydney's mother, she fully believed Sydney. Maybe it was the part where Emily had an almost magical power that had her believing Sydney's fantastic tales. In fact, if it hadn't been for Em and her healing gift, Sydney would look like a dragon had chewed on her, would probably be a cripple and incapable of normal life, never to tend bars or dance again.

"Where?"

Sydney pointed. "Up there."

As they both looked, the sky opened up.

Sydney might have pissed herself a little as demons rained out of the sky.

"Aliens," whimpered from Emily. "Holy shit. The sky is raining aliens!"

Or that. Sydney's hand twitched for a sword. She looked for anything to use in place of one, found a broom. Fuck. She looked to see what Em had found.

Fear was plastered over Emily, her knuckles gone white around the stool she'd picked up. Sydney watched as fear was pushed back, determination took over Em's features, much like it would on Trevelyan when he was about to charge into death. Her black eyes went hard. "There's going to be people getting hurt. You coming?"

Sydney's answer was to run at her side.

From around the bleeding cop who Emily was healing, she saw Sydney push yet another alien back, slicing at it with one of their weapons. She rolled to the side and came up with a shield on her arm. Captain America's shield. Sydney was fighting aliens with a freaking sword and shield. Okay, more like spear-rifle, but whatever. Syd was using it like a sword. Cutting, goring, parrying, dancing through a rain of alien blood.

Shit. What had she been like in Thedas fighting demons and dragons?

"I'd ask for my shield back, ma'am," Cap chuckled as they easily fended off another surge of alien warriors. "But I think you're doing a fine job with it."

Sydney deflected an energy blast from one attacker into another and followed up with a blast of her own. "Thanks, Captain," was her toothy, bloody, scary smile. "I've got a lot of practice."

The big man blinked at her a moment, nearly earned himself a sizzling hole in the chest had a small woman in a leather bodysuit not jumped in front of it with a door torn off a taxi cab. She put a bullet in the offending alien from around the door. A few more bullets and spear-blasts later, and they found themselves in a brief lull.

Emily went to Syd, healing the burn on her leg the size of a soccer ball. "Shit, woman, how could you move with this thing?" It was definitely third degree, deep, bubbly, and angry.

Hard brown eyes met her own. "Dragon fire burns are worse." She hissed as the bubbles on her leg popped. "Nique ta mére, connasse! Mage-healing doesn't hurt like this!"

"I'm not a wizard, Harry," deadpanned back.

"Fuck you."

"We already tried that once. Remember how awkward it was."

Sydney coughed out a laugh. "God yes. How do you get women into your bed with your weird little fingers?"

"Weird little fingers?" Emily grumbled and promptly shot back about Sydney's unpleasantly long toes.

Back and forth, their insults flew until, "And I thought Stark was annoying."

Both friends shot insulted looks to the woman standing next to Captain America. "Excuse me?" Syd sneered. "Was I just compared to Tony Womanizer Stark?"

"That man needs a swift kick in the ass and a hug." Emily scowled.

"A hug?" Syd demanded. "When are you not in mom-mode?"

"When it doesn't involve someone who clearly has trust and self-esteem issues that stem from neglectful parenting and traumatic experiences. That man needs a good friend."

"I hear Colonel Rhodes is a very good friend to Stark." The woman put in. Her tone was almost challenging, almost amused, almost bored. What the hell?

"Then Stark needs a few more good friends, because he's about as well-balanced as a candy diet." Captain America guffawed.

A grin appeared on the woman, lifting her lips, making Emily realize just how young she looked. And take notice of her flawless skin, lovely red hair, striking eyes. Oh wow.

"Stark, not everything is about you." Captain America glanced up. Iron Man flew past, aliens hot on his metal butt.

There was another twitch to the redhead's lips, a response to something Stark must have said over radio. Emily didn't hear what the big soldier said next because she discovered a small puddle of blood forming under the redhead's right hand. There was a tear in her leather outfit, from bicep to elbow, exposing glistening pink tissue, the unpleasant white glint of bone.

"What is it with you people and running around with crazy painful injuries like they're fucking mosquito bites?" Exasperation demanded.

Nobody answered. They were too busy fending off a fresh wave of attackers and pushing Emily behind a large chunk of rubble. By the time Emily was able to get close to the redhead, she was sporting a burn like Syd's on her thigh. A hot gun muzzle was pressed to Emily's face the moment she touched the woman, and she flinched away, crying out at the ring of pain in her chin.

"Not an alien, you jumpy bitch!" Emily yelped. "Point that thing somewhere else so I can heal you."

"I'm fine," was bit out. She jutted her chin to where civilians were being herded down the street by a handful of firefighters and cops. "Go help them."

"When the adrenaline fades, you won't be, and you've taken out more of those alien bastards than Syd," snapped back. "Sit the fuck down for two seconds, Ms. Superhero, so you can fight longer."

Dark, seagreen eyes perused her. They darted away, and her gun reported briefly before they returned. "Fine."

Emily used a water bottle she'd picked up to wash out the deep laceration before touching fingers to skin and going to work. She closed the cut, leaving a scab, was moving on to the burn when her eyes noticed the body was continuing to heal itself at almost the rate Emily could push it to. What the hell? Emily sank a little deeper, exploring the amazing metabolism and tripping over a thousand old scars. When she felt the woman twitch, heard the gun shooting, she shook herself and went back to work. Even as Emily moved on to other bloody patients, she kept thinking about the curiosity of the redhead's body, the deep scars hidden within.

"Nat!" Emily bounced up from the couch in their Atlanta house. "Nat! We have to go to Miami!"

Natasha had already slightly lowered the book in her hands, but didn't lift her gaze until Emily was right in front of her. An eyebrow arched. "Why?"

"We have to go visit Syd." She wiggled. "And meet her girlfriend." She giggled. "I think you'll like her. She's a lot like you."

That red eyebrow arched even further. Natasha's curiosity had been piqued.

"She's a spy."

The other eyebrow twitched. Getting Nat to Miami was a matter of getting on a plane now. Or in the car. Whichever.

"A master spy." Emily grinned wildly. "Spymaster."

"That video game character?" Nat had remained skeptical of Sydney's adventures.

"Princess Stabbity herself!" Emily squealed and grabbed for a wrist. "Come on. Let's go!"

"You realize," Sydney nudged Emily. "We're dating the same woman, right?"

A smile quirked her lips. "Yea. But mine doesn't pray to a god every night."

Sydney snorted. "Yes she does, Sekhmet." Emily had told her more than a few lewd stories about Natasha getting on her knees.

There was a blank pause before laughter exploded from her friend, drawing the attention of their redheaded lovers, who'd been deep in discussion about fashion trends. Identical expressions of annoyance shot over. It sent Emily and Sydney into louder guffaws, leaning on each other, slapping each others arm, pointing and flailing when they couldn't speak.

Through laugh-blurred vision, Sydney watched Natasha meet Leliana's eye. "How did your idiot catch your attention?"

"Aside from whipping a useless boy into a strong leader and saving us all? Her determination, her bravery and strength was what truly won me over." Leliana smiled. "What about your Emily?"

"She saw me for a woman where everyone else saw a monster." Natasha's normally coy smile gained warmth. "She also saved my life and kept my secrets. More than a few times."

"That she is also quite lovely surely helped."

A long sigh hummed out. "I did spend a some time daydreaming about her freckles."

The spies shared a quiet giggle before Leliana clapped her hands. "Oh. I heard something about your skill as a dancer? Could we find a place to go dancing?"

Natasha eyed her. "Emily can't dance."

Leliana gasped. A determined look came over her. "Then we must teach her."

Natasha mulled that over, looking at Emily. This could be fun. "Let's go dancing."

Their idiots' giggles died at the twin expressions that shot to them.

They looked at each other. "Maybe letting them meet wasn't a good idea." Emily muttered.

"I dunno. Leli teaching you to dance should be fun to watch." Mischief grinned stretched Sydney's face.

"I hate all of you."

"Come on, Em. If you can fight, you can dance." Syd prodded.

Black eyes narrowed at her. "I tried letting you teach me to waltz before. People still tease me about the video you posted."

Sydney groaned at her former self's poor decision to share Emily's awkward beginner's steps with their circles of friends. Too much alcohol had been involved that night. For everyone. "I know. I'm sorry. I've apologized a million times. Lizzie's yelled at me about it a million times. Dancing is so much fun, Em. Please?"

She watched hopefully as Emily shot a look at Natasha. Sydney didn't see a change in the stoic woman's expression, but Em must have because she sighed and threw her hands up. "Okay, but if I find another video out there, I'm going to lock you in a room with nothing to do but watch Jersey Shore for a month."

Disgust made Sydney shiver. "Cross my heart, Em."

Sweet and hot, a spike of lust shot through Emily as she watched her redheaded lover spar with Sydney's redheaded lover. Natasha was always her most graceful, most dangerous, most beautiful, when she was fighting someone of her caliber. And Leliana, though not a match for strength, was definitely a match for speed and skill and ingenuity. She was both silk dancing in a breeze and a snake striking at lunch. Who knew a normal human could move like that?

Emily could barely follow their movements. She was more aware of the swish of fabric and cry of steel on steel, the bright sparks of their occasional meeting. Sweat and muscle glistened and shivered in the brief moments of stillness. Nat's sports bra and shorts exposed nearly every line of her finely honed physique, and Emily's eye greedily drank in the sight of it. And maybe they enjoyed the sight of Leliana in extremely revealing clothes too. She had these cute little dimples above her bouncy ass that Emily had to ask Syd about later.

Low curses in French that Emily didn't recognize flowed out of Syd. "I've never seen Leli like this before. I've never been fast enough to make her work this hard. Maker, it's fucking sexy."

"This was worth having to learn to waltz." Emily agreed.

"I wonder what they'll do if we teach you the Rumba." Lips were licked. "I need to teach it to Leli."

"I think you need a towel as badly as I do."

"Yep."

"Hey, Em." Sydney prodded her friend with an elbow as they emerged from a dip in the sea.

Soggy wet hair was pushed away from a cloud of freckles. "What?"

"Wanna go read fanfiction to Leli? She'll shit kittens over this Sera/Josephine fic I found yesterday."

Em's face pinched in confusion. "Sera and Josephine? That's not all that weird. Now, Iron Bull and Vivienne, that's a circle trying to fit in a square hole."

Sydney snorted at the visual image. "That's awesome too. I just want to watch what her face does at the smut."

"Have you read her any Leliana/Morrigan stuff?"

That sounded dangerous. Leli had been truly mortified by the idea of herself and the dark witch in a relationship. Sydney grinned deviously. This would be worth it. "I know just the lemon."

Translations:

putain – bitch

Nique ta mére, connasse – fuck your mother (or motherfucker, but I'm not 100%), bitch/idiot