It's interrupted by vigilante business

The rather awkward hug was interrupted as the phone rang. Laurel backed away apologising, while Sara gratefully stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She watched Laurel unplug her mobile and pick it up, her expression quickly going from joyful to focused.

“Sorry, might have to cut this short,” Laurel said. “Black Canary’s needed, unless- do you want to hop back in the saddle? We kept your costume.”

Sara was about to refuse, before Laurel said the magic word. Wait, costume?

Going back outside was embarrassing, but as the Canary again? Vigilantes had to hide their identities, of course they’d have to have some covering.

At last! Sara cracked a grin.

“Of course,” Sara said. Then, playfully; “So long as everyone’s not gone soft.”

“Just wait,” Laurel said. She grinned back, before heading out the from door.

Sara stiffened; damn it, give her a moment to prepare. She breathed in, trying not to think too much about what she was going to do, and followed Laurel.

At least it shouldn’t be too hard to make some excuse and hang out in the Arrow cave, or whatever they were calling it. Ok, being decked out head to toe in leather wasn’t her idea of casual wear, but it was infinitely preferable to the alternative.

She followed Laurel, both marvelling and flushing at her sister’s lack of a reaction to how she was walking down the street.

Sara focused on the back of her head, trying to tune out everything else. Far too many people were looking at her, watching as she made her way on.

No. Laurel, Laurel’s head, Laurel’s back- oh god her sister’s ass was out and exposed to the world.

She was never going to get used to this. And so was hers, and so were their tits, and so was everything. It felt like everyone they passed was staring, no matter how casually they acted.

Sara whimpered in relief when they at last made it inside, and headed down to the Arrow’s lair.

She faltered for a moment as they stepped inside, though Laurel continued like it was nothing. There was a woman Sara didn’t know, as well as a couple of others, but most notably to Sara was Felicity.

They’d worked together for a bit when Sara had been on the team. She wasn’t exactly quiet, her mouth could run away with her, but she was far from one to wear skimpy clothing.

And now she was naked. Of course she was, Sara couldn’t be surprised, but it still struck her. Felicity spun around on her chair, not even blinking at flashing her tits to everyone.

“Sara, you’re back!” Felicity said. She grinned, muttering something about the latest additions to the team; Rene and Curtis, apparently.

Sara only half-paid attention. For a moment she almost forgot she too was nude, surprised by the sight, before snapping back to reality.

Right, costume, she was promised a costume-

“Sara, told you we still had it,” Laurel called. In one motion she threw across what at first glance seemed just to be a pale wig, and at second glance turned out to have a mask to cover her eyes in.

And that was it. Sara paused, looking up as if it was a joke, praying it was.

But no. There was no sign of anything more substantial for Laurel either; she was just getting her own wig on, not remotely concerned about the rest of her body.

And looking at the mannequins where the costumes were normally displayed, the familiar black leather of the Canary outfits, hers or Laurel’s, were very distinctly missing.

Wait, she was seriously expected to go along with this, fight crime in just a mask and wig? Ok, no one would know it was her, but-

In this timeline, had she already done it? Paraded around in front of the city in just this scrap?

Fuck. To think she’d been optimistic moments before.

Ok, their brand of vigilantism did make it harder for photos to be taken of them, and they didn’t exactly meet the public, but still. Just the thought of actually having to go hand-to-hand with someone like this made her cheeks colour.

Thankfully she still had her staff. Sara noted Laurel roll a spare across too; Laurel had a similar weapon of her own, but she carried it in her hand rather than wear any kind of strap or holster, anything that could offer even the slightest decency.

She stared at the mask.

“Good to have you back with us,” Ollie said. He slapped her back as he passed, in what might have felt like the gesture of camaraderie it was intended as if not for her bare skin. “When you’re ready, let’s go!”