Title: Garnet Ambassadors
Pairing: Sarah Walker/Anna Wu
Summary: You have sent these messengers because I am afraid.
Notes: Set early in the second season.
Anna Wu stalked into Orange Orange like she was striding down the catwalk. Sarah turned and smiled, because that's what she was supposed to do as a food service professional, and her eyes dropped to Anna's boots, a weird hybrid of Doc Martens and Louboutins that looked dangerous in forty-seven different ways.
"Hey, Sarah," Anna said, and she didn't even wobble as she dropped into a chair. "Don't you get bored in the mornings? It's always totally dead here."
"It's not so bad," Sarah said. She leaned on the counter, noting the number of cars in the parking lot. Two new ones since she'd last checked, though neither of them triggered any concern. "It's better than nothing, and I get free yogurt."
"But you're, like, super-smart," Anna said. "Shouldn't you be wearing suits and being important somewhere else?"
Sarah laughed. "Thanks, but I'm probably not that smart." Depending on the metric of measurement, she wasn't always. "You want some yogurt?"
"Maybe." Anna squinted. "Was that an offer or a sales pitch?"
"Sales pitch," Sarah said. "Still interested?"
"Raspberries on French vanilla," Anna said. "It would be hard to be friends with you if I was a diet freak."
Sarah's hands stuttered as she put together the order. "Friends?" She glanced over her shoulder, then back at the cup of yogurt. She scooped raspberries using a black plastic spoon, flicking her wrist to distribute them artfully.
"Well, a real friend would give me a discount," Anna observed.
"Sorry," Sarah chirped. She held up the yogurt. "This okay?"
"Bitch," Anna breathed with a smile. "That needs chocolate sprinkles."
Sarah pulled a glove on, and Anna snorted at the rubbered snap.
Chuck was off on an actual installation when Sarah swung by the Buy More. She shrugged off Morgan's half-self-effacing, half-horny attempts at friendly conversation, but when she tried to exit, she saw Lester--or was it Jeff?--converging on her exit path.
It had been a long afternoon filled with fifteen-year-old boys ogling her cleavage, and Sarah turned on her heel to avoid committing violence. Casey raised his eyebrows at her from beside the latest in refrigerator technology; Sarah shook her head slightly and wandered into the home theater room instead.
Anna was draped over the sofa, one of her legs hooked over the side. "Jeffster's gone creepocalypse today," she said. She brandished a remote control, skipping through the scenes of something starring a very confused cheerleader. "Close the door."
Sarah jiggled the door until it started swinging shut, and Anna arched on the sofa, extending her arm and pulling the blinds closed. One of her knees drew up, and Sarah stared at the stretch of Anna's thigh, trying to follow the pattern of her stockings.
"I can feel their beady eyes on me all the time," Anna said. Sarah shifted, turned her attention to the television. "Morgan thinks I'm supposed to be flattered or something."
Sarah considered the appropriate response. "Screw that," she finally responded.
"For real," Anna said. She twisted, curling her legs beneath her. "Want to watch?"
"Sure," Sarah said. She settled next to Anna and wondered where to put her arms in a situation like this. Drape them like a guy? Fold her hands primly? Was this a meeting, or was it a party?
Anna thrust one of her legs across Sarah's lap, and Sarah grasped her at knee and ankle in automatic defense. She loosened her grip at once, and the thread of Anna's stockings made her palms itch.
"Aren't these uncomfortable?" she asked without thinking.
"Yeah," Anna said, "but the effect is worth it."
"Effect?" Sarah responded. She looked at Anna, and Anna touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth. "Right."
The cheerleaders were washing cars, and Sarah watched as one of them enthusiastically polished a radio antenna. "Are we watching porn?" she wondered.
"Is that a dealbreaker?" Anna asked. Her skin was warm against Sarah's hands, and her skirt rustled as she rolled onto her hip.
Sarah thought about the unlocked door, and about Chuck, and about Orange Orange and everything trapped beneath it. "Not really," she replied.
Anna gestured with the remote control. "We should turn down the volume."
The knock on Sarah's door was brisk, a series of five taps. Sarah tucked her gun into the back of her waistband. She left the chain on as she pulled the door open, and Anna was holding a bottle of tequila.
"You live in a hotel?" Anna asked.
"Long story," Sarah said shortly. She shut the door, slid the gun across the floor, under the bed, and undid the chain. She took a deep breath and opened the door with a smile. "What are you doing here?"
"It was a crap-ass day," Anna said. "Let's get hammered."
"Really?" Sarah asked.
"Do you have a date or something?" Anna sauntered past Sarah, setting the bottle down before tumbling onto the bed. "Oh god," she said, sitting up. "Do you have a date?"
"No, I was," Sarah leaned against the partition, "I was going for a run."
"Weird," Anna said. "Can you skip it? You look overly tense, anyway."
"Thanks." Sarah would have slouched, but she couldn't figure out how. "I've got vodka and orange juice in the fridge."
"Kick ass." Anna folded her legs, using her knees to brace the tequila as she fiddled with the cap. "I knew I liked you."
When Sarah sat next to her, their shoulders brushed together. Sarah started to pull away, but Anna pressed closer. Her hair swept against Sarah's collarbone, and then her lips brushed Sarah's throat.
Sarah didn't startle back, because she'd been trained not to.
"This isn't really a thing," Anna said, "but you're really hot. Kind of Jolie, in a blonde way."
Sarah took a deep breath. Anna smelled like limes, and musk, and sugar. "This isn't a thing?"
"Not a serious thing," Anna replied. "Just...a thing." Her gaze darted from Sarah's lips, to her throat, to her eyes. "Right?"
Sarah tilted her head, and Anna smiled at her. Maybe she leaned forward, because Anna was warm and real, and honest.
"Kind of Jolie?" Sarah said. The bottle was cool against her ribs, and her wrist looped under Anna's knee.
"Maybe better," Anna qualified, and soon, the bottle rolled onto the floor.
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Principes Negros. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.