A/N: This is an excerpt from a more involved AU I'm working on, posted out of order for Smoaking Canary Appreciation Week. I believe it should stand alone and I hope you enjoy it.

Three months into the school year, Sara suggests a night out on the town. "Team-building!" she says, like they're any kind of team instead of a handful of kids thrown together for a class project.

But their bonds have been forged in the fire of public speaking, and Felicity has to admit she likes the idea. Coffee with Sara has turned into a weekly thing, while Oliver and Digg have joined them more than once for milkshakes after class—but they've never gone out at night, not the four of them. It could be fun.

The next night is Friday, so they agree to meet at the club where Digg works the door and can get them in for no cover. Felicity is kind of relieved to find there are other people who don't necessarily have plans on a Friday night, and when her phone rings at seven on Friday, Sara's name on the ID, her heart does a little jump.

"Hey!" she says.

"Hey," comes Sara's voice. "Are you up for a bite before the club?"

"Sure! Like…"

"Like, uh, I'm on the sidewalk outside your building with a pizza?"

Felicity laughs, skipping to the window and peeking past her curtains to see, yep, one cute blonde with a phone to her ear and a pizza box in the other hand, peering up at the building. "I'll buzz you up, see you in a few." She hangs up and crosses to the door, leaning on the buzzer while surveying the state of herself in the mirror. Not exactly club-ready, but hopefully Sara won't mind waiting in the living room while she changes. After pizza.

She starts to turn away from the door, then reconsiders and does a neat three-sixty, putting her hand on the knob and waiting another second before turning it and swinging the door open. She leans in the doorway, waiting, and then Sara comes around the corner and she grins and Sara grins and they just grin at each other as she comes down the hall.

Sara walks a bit like a prowling tiger, and butterflies flare up in Felicity's belly as she bears down on her. So she turns away, heading for the wine and leaving Sara to shut the apartment door behind her. Sara is kicking off her shoes and glancing around when Felicity walks back into the room, carefully balancing two plates and two wine glasses in her hands, with the bottle of wine under her arm.

"Hey," Sara says, lips curling back up into that grin. "Nice place."

"Thanks," Felicity says, setting her cargo down on the coffee table and belatedly casting a nervous glance around to see if she's left out anything embarrassing. "I wasn't exactly expecting company. Not that you're not welcome!" she adds quickly. "I mean, you brought pizza, and pizza is always welcome…" She trails off, her hands gradually stilling in the anxious dance with which they accompanied her words. "Um, anyway. Wine?"

"Please," Sara says, sitting down on the couch with her legs folded up under her and holding out one of the wine glasses for Felicity to fill. When they're both settled with full glasses and a slice each, Sara says, "I have a secret to tell you."

Mouth full, Felicity raises an eyebrow, hoping the jolt of fear she feels doesn't show on her face.

Sara laughs, so it probably does. "My plan," she says, leaning forward and lowering her voice conspiratorially, "is to get you completely wasted."

Felicity snorts, almost choking on her pizza, and rolls her eyes as she forces the bite down her throat. "That's nothing new." Slight white lie.

"Maybe," Sara allows, "but I've never seen it, and that's a crime."

"Oh no," Felicity says, taking another bite. "Did I neglect to come to class drunk? That's usually my forte."

If she's trying to scare Sara off with a mouthful of food and disgusting eating habits, it backfires entirely as she smirks and says, "You're cute."

Felicity looks away, pressing her lips together. She swirls the wine in her glass, takes a sip, then remembers what they were talking about and holds out her glass. "Okay, if you match me drink for drink."

Grinning, Sara pokes her tongue out between her teeth and holds her glass up in turn, clinking it against Felicity's. "Deal."

As they're each reaching for a second slice, a knock comes at the door and Felicity frowns. Setting down her plate, she walks over and looks through the peephole before opening the door to Meghan from down the hall.

"Felicity!" she says excitedly, holding a plate of brownies. "We made too many; want one?"

"Oh—" Felicity says, ready to decline, as she does every week (seriously, they can't just make a smaller recipe? But she knows they tend to start with a joint before making the brownies, for whatever reason, so you know), but Sara comes up behind her and peers over her shoulder.

"Thanks!" Sara says. "Can we trade you for a slice?"

Meghan's eyes light up. "Rock on." Sara hands over the slice of pizza and accepts two brownies from the plate, turning back into the room while Felicity closes the door.

"You know those are—"

"I figured." Sara flops back on the couch, setting one of the brownies on the edge of Felicity's plate and the other on her own. "Is that a problem?" she says as an afterthought, tilting her head to look up at Felicity.

"Well…"

Sara waves a quick hand, looking slightly stricken. "Sorry. You don't have to. I just thought, you know, one little brownie to take the edge off—but you don't have to! That's fine!"

Settling back onto the couch, Felicity eyes the brownie suspiciously. It is pretty small, to be honest, and she trusts Sara. Could it really do all that much harm? She picks it up, sniffs it, then turns it over in her hand. "I mean…"

"If you did," Sara says carefully, "I'd take care of you."

Felicity's stomach does a little flip and she turns her face away, inhaling past the nerves in her chest. "Okay," she says, setting the brownie back down on the edge of her plate. "After pizza."

Grinning, Sara picks up her slice and takes a bite.

A couple hours later, after Felicity has changed and very, very carefully applied her makeup, they call a cab to take them to the club. Digg and Oliver are waiting outside, looking vaguely grim until Sara and Felicity tumble out of the car on a trail of giggles. They can't help grinning then, following the girls into the club and exchanging an amused glance.

"Why do I feel like you're responsible for this, Sara?" Oliver asks, but Felicity turns to shoot him a not-very-scary glare.

"I'm responsible for myself, thank you."

"Sorry," he laughs. "Of course you are."

They find a table in the chaotic club, and the boys head to the bar to acquire drinks. Felicity sits back in her chair, looking around, but Sara is on the edge of her seat, bouncing the balls of her feet against the floor.

"One drink," she says, turning to Felicity, "and then we dance."

Her eyebrows go up but she's not about to argue. "Does Oliver dance?"

Sara laughs at that. "Ollie? Nooo, God. We used to drag him out onto the dance floor but he would just stand there with his hands hanging at his sides. It was tragic."

Felicity giggles too, grinning up at Oliver when he returns with Digg, drinks in all four hands.

"Don't tell me you're talking about me," he says wryly, and Felicity shakes her head, still smiling.

"Just dancing. That couldn't possibly be about you."

"Definitely not," he agrees, shooting Sara a disapproving look.

She just looks out over the crowd, smiling to herself, and then downs her drink. She holds Felicity's drink up to her face, nudging at the bottom of the glass when she takes it. "Drink up." Oliver shakes his head—not responsible at all, clearly—but Felicity takes it happily, swallowing down the sweet martini concoction and following easily when Sara takes her hand and leads her toward the dance floor. She hangs back to wave goodbye to the boys, then the crowd swallows them up.

There aren't really any gaps among the writhing bodies, so Sara just draws her in until arbitrarily deciding they've got a nice spot. Felicity can barely hear the music, but Sara keeps hold of her hand and starts swinging her hips to the beat and Felicity copies her. The alcohol and a little tiny bit of pot have left Felicity's limbs loose, her self-consciousness almost non-existent, and she lets the bass move her.

With their fingers tangled together and bodies pressing close in every direction, personal space is a myth and so it's not much of a change when Sara turns her, putting her hands on Felicity's hips and pulling her in closer. Felicity lets her head fall back, leaning on Sara's shoulder as they move in sync, and Sara turns her face into Felicity's neck.

"You smell delicious," Sara says into her ear, and Felicity laughs breathlessly.

She turns back around, leaning in close so she can return the compliment, her lips brushing Sara's ear as she says, "So do you." Her hands are on Sara's hips now, their legs interlocking, and she pulls back just enough to see Sara's face. The other girl's eyes are on her lips, and her tongue slips out to run over her own before her eyes flick back up to Felicity's. Narrowing her eyes thoughtfully, Felicity cocks her head, licking her own lips before moving back in.

There's a jolt deep in her belly as their lips meet, and Felicity's hand tightens on Sara's hip, her fingers curling into the soft flesh there. She raises her other hand to Sara's cheek, groaning as Sara's tongue drives boldly past her lips.

Felicity's lips are a bit numb from the alcohol, but her tongue is alive with sensation as it clashes with Sara's, exploring the inside of her mouth. Sara wraps her arms around Felicity's neck, and when they break apart it's to laugh, out of breath, noses bumping together.

"I have to sit down," Felicity says.

"Should I be flattered?"

She laughs again, shaking her head. "Definitely. Wow."

Sara grins, untangling their limbs so she can take her hand, drawing her out of the crowd. They walk back to the table, rejoining the boys and leaning together as they catch their breath. Digg offers to fetch another round and Felicity asks for a bottle of water.

"Had enough?" Sara asks.

"Enough alcohol, definitely," Felicity replies, letting any other implication pass unaddressed. "Mission accomplished?"

"I'm good at what I do," Sara says smugly, and wow, this conversation is just chock-full of double meanings.

Felicity looks up at Oliver, but he's turned away, staring out into the crowd, so she leans into Sara and says softly, "Yes, you are." Sara reaches out, smiling, to hook her arm around Felicity's neck and pull her in briefly, letting go as Digg returns and Oliver looks back at the table.

Felicity gulps at her water, overheated for more than one reason, and says ruefully, "I could use some fresh air."

Digg glances at his watch. "It's just past midnight. Do you guys want to stay longer?"

Felicity's ready to leave, but she looks to Sara, who shrugs. "Nah, I'm good."

Oliver goes to close out their tab at the bar—he offered, and he can afford it, though Felicity still feels a pang of guilt at the thought—and meets them outside. As they wait in line for a taxi, Oliver asks Digg if he'll take Sara home.

Sara opens her mouth, ready to argue, but Oliver shoots her a look and she rolls her eyes. "Whatever." When it's their turn, Digg opens the car door and Sara steps into Felicity's bubble, picking up her hand and rubbing her thumb over the knuckles. "Text me?"

A little giddy, Felicity nods, closing her eyes as Sara leans in to press her lips to her cheek. She squeezes Felicity's hand and lets go, climbing into the cab and waving through the window.

Watching the car pull away, Felicity sighs, thinking drunk/happy/drunk/happy on a loop, and starts a bit when Oliver calls "Felicity!" to get her attention. He's got a cab for them and Felicity climbs in, sliding over the seat to the far side and gazing out the window. When Oliver is settled and she's given her address to the driver, she turns back.

"Did you have a good time?" she asks.

He looks a little incredulous, prompting a confused look on Felicity's part before he says, "Watching you and Sara make out on the dance floor? Time of my life."

"Oops." Felicity presses her fingertips to her lips, fighting a smile even as she cringes in embarrassment. "But—wait, aren't guys supposed to like that sort of thing?"

"Maybe, if it wasn't my ex and my…"

"Felicity," she supplies, like her name just slipped his mind, and he shakes his head, smiling despite himself.

"My Felicity?"

She thinks about that for a second, then nods. Makes sense.

"Anyway." He sighs, looking out the window for a minute. "I guess I'm just wondering if that's going to be a thing now."

"Kissing Sara?" she says, considering. "Hmm. I don't know. She is a really good kisser."

"Yeah, I know." He sounds a little dejected and she turns fully to look at him, tilting her head.

"Do you… not want me to kiss Sara?"

"That's up to you, Felicity."

"Yeah," she says happily, looking back out the window. "Well, and Sara. But she must like me a little bit if—"

"Just," he interjects abruptly. "Maybe I'm not the best person to discuss it with."

"Oh, right. Sorry." She falls silent, watching the buildings pass by out the window, the smile creeping back up her face without asking permission. When they pull up outside her building, she pushes open the door and Oliver leans over the seat.

"Do you want me to walk you up?"

She smiles, waving her hand. "No thanks! I'm good. 'Night Oliver!"

"Goodnight, Felicity," he replies, sounding Very Sad, and Felicity turns around to watch the car drive away, thinking.

As she walks inside and pushes the call button for the elevator, she pulls out her phone and taps out a quick message: Don't be sad! Be happy! :) Drink more next time! She hesitates with her thumb over the send button, deliberating the wisdom of drunk-messaging a guy she doesn't know all that well, then presses send anyway.

What harm can it do?

She walks into the elevator, leans against the back wall, and pulls up the window to text Sara. She cocks her head, staring at the phone, tapping her thumb on the side as she thinks. Finally, she just types, Goodnight, Sara. :) and shuts her phone off for the night.

As she puts herself to bed, her internal monologue is limited to the very complicated happy/drunk/happy/drunk. Definitely drunk; definitely happy.

Mission accomplished.