The Po Boyz Cafe in Rochester, New York, was about as far from an actual New Orleans restaurant as humanly possible, without literally being in Canada. It wasn't quite what Regina had imagined when she'd agreed to join the CIA - after months of begging, of course, and a very impressive compensation package - but it was only her second independent assignment, so she ate her mediocre sandwich and watched for the man the CIA thought might be smuggling organic, ultra-rare Canadian wild rice in hockey equipment.

He was just one mule in a long chain of illegal food resellers hawking their wares on the dark web, but her brief had described him as armed, dangerous, and in possession of a wide range of illegally imported foodstuffs. CBP had horned in on their investigation twice already, and the FBI had tried once, though their budget really couldn't compare. They were just so puny. Obviously the case belonged to the CIA: after the Silk Road debacle, you could hardly trust any of the other agencies with Dark Web stuff. No, it was a very important win for the CIA, and by extension for Regina.

If only, she thought as she chewed a particularly tough shrimp, the CIA had a higher budget for expenses.

Her therapist had reminded her that you had to adjust your expectations to take into account others' capabilities, oh, hundreds of times. Consequently, it was only after she nearly chipped a tooth on some grit in one of the overly tough shrimps that she flagged down a waitress. "Excuse me," she said as sweetly as she could manage, "I'm ever so sorry, but I seem to have half the sand in the harbor in my sandwich currently." Oops. That wasn't nice at all.

She probably deserved a talking-to, she thought. She watched the waitress slowly turn around, resigned to her fate.

"Sounds like a personal problem," Janis Ian said.

For a moment Regina could do nothing but blink rapidly and try to confirm she wasn't dreaming. She had no doubt that the woman in front of her was, in fact, Janis Ian; no one could have fooled her on that regard, not after they'd been each others' friends for so long, and then nemeses for longer. Cady had never really managed to patch things up between them, despite many, many drunken New Years Eve attempts to do so. No, this was Janis.

But then, what on earth was Janis doing waiting tables in a cafe in Rochester?

She said the first thing that came to mind. Unfortunately, that was, "What the fuck happened to you?"

Janis looked left; then she looked right. It occurred to Regina that she might be going to college nearby, or in a gap year, or something reasonable like that.

Then Janis leaped at her, tackling her to the ground, and all speculation fled.

-

"She really got you good, huh."

Regina scowled at Damian through the webcam. "Shut up."

"Careful. That kind of impulsive verbal abuse is cause for being removed from active duty."

"Yes, I know, you're my handler and hold all the power, blah blah blah. Ugh." She removed the ice pack from her cheek, wincing. "Why didn't you tell me you were sending me to wait at a cafe staffed by my former nemesis, who's also still your best friend? Think through your response very carefully: I also have a reporting pipeline, you know."

"I do indeed, since you used it on your last five handlers." Damian rolled his eyes. "She doesn't talk about work much. Or, like, at all. To be honest, I kind of assumed she was a corporate raider and thought telling me would get her kicked out of the DSA, but I guess she was just embarrassed."

"Corporate raiders and third-rate sandwich slingers have pretty different pay grades." Regina frowned. "Unless she's actually one of our smugglers."

"Janis? No way."

"It's pretty punk, avoiding customs. I can see her liking that."

Damian snorted. "No offense, Reg, but your info's years out of date. Janis wouldn't ever be part of this Dark Web stuff. She's a DSA member, not an anarchist."

"Like I have any reason to know the difference."

"Aside from, like, you work for the government."

"Exactly."

"Okay," Damian said slowly. "Well, anyway, I can ask Janis what's up with that, but -"

Regina's screen flickered.

It was only a moment, barely longer than a blink, but Regina hadn't passed endless rounds of CIA training to ignore a hack when it practically shouted at her. "Fallback protocol," she said, and popped the battery out of her machine before Damian could reply.

Stupid. She'd been so stupid. Okay, fine, wild rice smuggling was hardly the most glamorous of crimes, but it involved billions of dollars of merchandise. Where there was money, there was danger - and she'd only swept the room for bugs this morning, because her black eye had distracted her before her check-in call.

Regina had never been one for subtlety. "You notice everything," one of her instructors at Langley had told her, "but you're not too good at working out when you're being lied to." It was a trait she'd striven to overcome as she rose in the CIA's ranks.

So she had gotten a little better. Her mind put it all together as she stood there, heart hammering: computer problems. A Janis who'd learned to fight better than a CIA operative. Janis here, now, in a place utterly unlike anywhere Regina could imagine her ending up.

She turned her computer back on and said into the webcame, "Janis Ian. Tell your little NSA handlers that they have no jurisdiction on this case."

And then she threw her computer out the window.

-

"It was really the destruction of CIA and NSA assets that led to this unprecedented lateral cooperation between bureaus - so for that, we have you both to thank," Damian said.

"Shut up, Damian," Janis snapped.

She hadn't changed at all, which of course Regina had noticed at the sandwich shop. Now, though, it was even more obvious. They both sat next to one another at Regina's hotel desk, sharing the webcam on the new laptop Regina had been given. Janis was slumped in her chair, scowling, smelling vaguely of patchouli. Regina had heard that the NSA would hire just anyone if they were good with computers. Apparently, that description was even more accurate than she'd initially assumed.

"Janis, this really is your fault," Damian said. "Half your fault. You share it, like you're married." He glanced to the side. "Anyway, this whole case is embarrassing, so wrap it up as quickly as possible, okay? We want the suppliers ID'd and enough evidence to get warrants on the group bringing the product in. You have two weeks, so my advice is, chop chop." The webcam went dark.

"God, this sucks," Janis said, throwing herself back into her chair with an indignant huff.

This close, Regina could see every painful detail of how poor her posture was. She'd gotten muscled since high school, which couldn't possibly be a requirement for the NSA. Regina viciously hoped she had to cover the detailed bicep tattoo poking out of her short-sleeve shirt every time she went into the office.

"Can I help you?"

Regina raised her eyes to Janis' face, taking in the pissy expression. "Just wondering how you can go undercover when you're covered in trailer park tattoos, that's all."

"It's called the information age, princess. Welcome." Janis spread her hands.

"Oh, was that what you were doing at the cafe? Hacking?"

"Actually, yes. The POS they've got behind the counter just so happens to show up on all our scans of the smugglers' network traffic."

"Piece of-"

"Point of sale," Janis said. "God," she added under her breath.

Compromise was the cornerstone of healthy relationships, Regina reminded herself. Her therapist had said that a million times, too. Compromise, understanding other people, and patience. She had all of those traits, theoretically, and according to her very extensive medical records. "Right. Okay. Well, I know this is a surprise, but I'm sure we can work together effectively and make lives easier across both our agencies." She tried the most charming smile she could scrounge up.

Janis threw her head back, laughing. "That's the best you can do, huh?"

For a second - just a second - Regina couldn't think. Something about that laugh, the way she moved strong shoulders back, the grace of it -

Well. It was distracting, that was all.

"I'm serious," she finally managed to say. "This is my job. I don't want to screw it up because of some old high school rivalry."

"Sure," Janis said. "Well, in that case: I loaded malware on the register earlier. Ready to see what it found?"

Janis was still someone Regina would never personally associate with, a sad relic of a bygone era when wearing pins crassly declaring your political opinions was cool. But the slow smile, the anticipatory light in her eyes, made Regina warm to her. They really were in this together. "Absolutely."

-

If only that had been the end of it. Regina was of course capable of working with people she didn't particularly like; for heaven's sake, she hardly liked anyone, so only working with her friends would have been impossible even if she weren't a CIA agent. But Janis was a special kind of irritating. She was so - confident, in a way Regina didn't remember from high school. She displayed an easy mastery of technological concepts, and never seemed bothered by Regina's own displays of competency.

It was maddening, and Regina found herself wanting to demonstrate that Janis hadn't cornered adulthood, Regina herself was winning too. On their third day of working together, as Janis pored over 'the fingerprints these script kiddies left behind, fuck, learn to roll your own hardened Linux box, you assholes', Regina left without a word.

Two minutes into her unplanned upstate adventure, she got a text from Janis: where r u? Five minutes in, another text: i got the financials, now i'm drinking beer, hurry up.

Ten minutes later, she couldn't check her phone anymore, because she was busy tailing Bram Judd, one of the top operatives the CIA had already identified.

His clothes were expensive, but not flashy enough that an ordinary person would notice, and he didn't go to The Fall, the only semi-expensive club in town. He sidled into one of the many dive bars Regina had tagged as potential surveillance targets, taking a seat at the bar with his head bowed.

And, no, he didn't look like a man ready for a wild night out on the town. If Regina had gotten a 5% cut for smuggling millions of dollars of Canadian foods, she'd at least buy top shelf whiskey. Judd only got a Jack and Coke, and stared at it instead of drinking it.

Well, even depressed men tended to like Regina. She walked over to him and hopped up on the stool, winked at the bartender, and said to Judd, "Buy you a drink?"

"Already got one." He pounded the glass in question on the table, making booze slosh on the table.

"Hm, but not a very good one. I wouldn't think a man wearing Santoni Oxfords couldn't afford anything better than Jack Daniels."

"Maybe I like it."

He probably thought he was trying to put her off, but Regina knew better. He hadn't told her to leave yet; he was open to persuasion.

"Well," she said, lightly touching the bar a hairs' breadth from his hand, "it's a fascinating contrast. I find you intriguing."

"You think I'll give you money." He glanced over at her, a sneer curling his lips.

She quirked her lips in a smile that she knew was devastating. "Maybe. Will you?"

He gazed at her with something approaching distraction. "There's a party tonight. You should come."

"It's Saturday. There are plenty of parties."

"This one's special. Here." He pulled a business card from his coat and jotted down an address. "Give the guy at the door this, he'll let you in."

"Well, in that case." She put the card down her cleavage and slipped off the stool. She had him caught: he followed her every movement like she might be carrying bottles of whiskey under her skirt. "I'll see you there, big boy."

One disgusting kiss later, she was out and could check her phone again. Twelve unread messages from Janis, ugh, did the NSA screen for clinginess? She didn't bother answering any of them, only executed a flawless tail-losing route back to the hotel, opened the door, and said, "Shine up your combat boots, there's a party at Niagra Falls tonight and you're my lesbian date."

Janis looked up and fell off the bed. "Ow. What? Why didn't you answer my texts?"

Regina explained the situation. "You're such a cliche," Janis said from the floor. "But none of that explains why I'm your -"

"What, are you not a lesbian?"

She didn't have to be able to see Janis to sense the stiffened shoulders, the offended mien. "None of your business."

"Ironic, don't you think? An employee of the NSA, telling me -"

"I'm not pretending to be your date, Regina. Jesus Christ. I know you guys like drama, but I can go as a server or something."

"You can't, actually." Wow, Regina felt almost apologetic to have to explain it like this. "You really must be a lesbian, because I thought it was obvious. You're going as my date so Judd will back off when I won't sleep with him."

"You really must not be a lesbian if you think that'll work."

Did that mean Janis was? That wasn't the important part here, Regina reminded herself. "Well, yes, but that's what the combat boots are for."

Janis' greasy head finally popped up from behind the bed. "You're really serious about this."

"As a zero-day."

"Ugh, that's not funny."

"I am, though. Serious." And she felt seriously off-kilter, too. This was going to be a hell of a report to write up for Langley.

"Yeah." Janis gave her a level, obscure look. "I can tell. Oh, fine. I have to do some laundry, though, you got any quarters?"

Regina, having already anticipated this not-so-charming display of poor hygiene, sighed and tossed her a roll.

-

Damian didn't like it.

"I don't like this," he said for the fiftieth time.

Regina got out of their rental and reached up to adjust an earing. "You don't have to like it," she murmured into the communicator. "Just watch my six."

"Janis is going to do something stupid and you'll both wind up in jail!"

"Hey!" Janis hissed. "I can hear you, dickbag!"

"You know it's true, Janis. Remember when you had to do that drill senior year, with the paint, and you -"

"Damian! Now is not the time!"

"Oh, okay, will 'the time' be when you're both dead and/or captured at the hands of wild rice smugglers? I have to tell you, Regina, that does not exactly fill me with confidence. In fact -"

"Oh no, the signal's really bad here," Regina said, and disabled her earpiece.

Next to her, Janis made a face. "He's just yelling at me now."

"I assume you're used to that, after all these years."

"I don't know, I never got used to you."

Regina fixed her smile in place and reminded herself that Janis didn't mean that the way it sounded. It wasn't like Janis knew Regina had spent her first two years of college having massive amounts of very gay sex and coming to terms with what had happened in high schoo. And middle school. With Janis herself, specifically.

"Anyway," Regina said. "Do your best to look in love with me. Here we go."

The party had all the hallmarks of money laundering, including that they had to enter through someone's nana's gyro shop. Regina flashed Judd's business card, smiling widely when the doorman's eyes moved between her and Janis. "I'm sure Judd would be happy to meet my wife," she said, slipping the guy a CIA-approved $100.

"Sure, lady," he said. "Whatever. Go ahead."

People engaged in smuggling really ought to pay the help more.

"I can't believe you're making me do this," Janis grumbled as they made their way through the crowd. "What do you even think we'll find here?"

"Leads," Regina said. "Maybe even the kingpen himself. You know, it's likely someone's listening in."

Janis cocked her head. She was listening to her earpiece, so obviously that Regina wondered how her superiors had justified sending her on an undercover mission so woefully underprepared. "Damian would like me to tell you that he's listening in, and he's going to...Damian! That's so gross!"

"What did he say?"

Regina watched with morbid fascination as Janis' face turned very, very red. "Nothing."

What could he possibly have said to make her look like that? Janis hadn't even blushed when she'd told Jason that she'd drink his piss before sitting by him at lunch.

Whatever. Regina had other concerns, currently. Such as -

"That's him," she said. "Come on." She took Janis' hand - somehow dry and clammy at the same time, ugh - and pulled her over to the corner where Judd sat with a few other people.

Janis' presence worked as expected: he eyed them speculatively and attempted to ply Regina with a drink, but had clearly decided to play the long game, and went easy on trying to get her to go home with him. Regina took photos of every member of the group with her contact-embedded camera, and as they left the party, Janis said, "I've got three cloned SIM cards just waiting to be explored."

Janis insisted on stopping by the liquor store to pick up beer: "It helps me do my job," she said, sulking until Regina gave in.

Regina had turned her earpiece back on by then, and thus got treated to Damian saying, "Oh my God, I hope you're ready to corral the horniest drunk you have ever met."

She ignored it, because otherwise she might have had a total breakdown. One six-pack later, they were back in the hotel room and Janis had powered up three laptops and chugged two beers.

"What do you know about Judd?" she said, click-clacking on her USB keyboard.

"Horny," Regina said. "Annoying."

"Isn't that just guys around you in general?"

"Hey. Girls too."

The clacking stopped. Silence echoed in the room before Janis said, "You know what? Maybe you should, I don't know, get another room. In another city. Or another country."

"What?"

Janis scowled. "It's been a decade, Regina. I really figured you'd gotten over the whole mean girl high school bullshit. But I guess I was wrong, and you were just waiting until I - not now, Damian!"

"It's actually really important," Damian said in both their ears. "Regina's date to the Christmas party last year -"

"I don't care about your stupid CIA parties!" Janis said. "Or your stupid CIA buddy-buddy bullshit! I'm here to hack and take down a dark web wild rice merchant, not -"

"What?" Regina said when Janis abruptly fell silent. "You're not here to listen to me? Or assume good faith?"

"Okay, that is a low blow, Regina George, have you forgotten about the fact that you made me drop out of school?"

She hadn't; that was the problem. The guilt was eating away at her, making her angry, and no amount of therapy could apparently make her actualized about Janis fucking Ian. Now would be a great time to say, 'actually, I'm gay', or 'I know you're bi, I thought I was for awhile but it turns out I'm the lesbian I accused you of being', or any number of conciliatory things that actually advanced communication and healed their relationship.

Instead, she said, "Unlike you, Janis, I don't spend all my time thinking about our grade school days."

"You -!"

That was all the warning she got before Janis tackled her.

She'd been paying more attention during their first fight than Regina had realized. All her punches landed; all her kicks were timed to defeat Regina's usual defensive style. She had Regina pinned in just a few minutes. Regina elbowed her in the stomach and rolled them, dislodging a lamp from the bedside table. It fell with a crash as Janis tried to punch her. Regina caught her wrist and reared up, trying to buck Janis off -

And it occurred to her, as she failed to get enough leverage, that they were very close, and Janis was very warm, and Regina suddenly couldn't stop looking at her mouth.

"Jesus fucking Christ on a pogo stick," Janis said, and kissed her.

Every single nerve lit up. Distantly, she heard Damian say, "Ew, guys," but that wasn't enough to stop her. It wasn't even close. Janis was good at this, and in this moment, Regina could admit to herself that she'd been thinking about this for a long, long time. She tangled her hands in Janis' hair and hooked a leg around her knee, pulling them flush against each other. Janis was moving, hips undulating, thumb pressed brutally against Regina's jaw. She bit at Regina's lips and snarled when Regina tried to slow the kiss down. It was perfect.

Regina was really close to asking if Janis wanted to move it to the bed when her cell phone rang. Not her burner phone, either: her actual CIA-issued cell phone, which very few people had the number to.

"Fuck, shit, hang on, sorry." She pulled it out of her pocket, trying to ignore the way Janis was a warm weight exactly where she wanted her, and answered. "This better be important."

"Hey, girl, just calling to catch up! How's the mission? Is it lit?"

"Oh my God, Mom." Regina sat up as Janis hopped to her feet, feeling herself turn bright red. "This number is for emergencies only! Not gossip calls!"

"Who's gossiping? I was worried about my girl, that's all. I read this article about how the CIA actually used Edward Snowden to hide their genetic mutation experiments up in..."

Her mom kept talking, but Regina stopped listening. Janis had gone over to her laptops and resumed typing furiously, and then turned one around to show Regina. She'd been monitoring all three SIM cards; one was now lit up bright and clear, with audio tracking that matched her mom's grating syllables exactly.

Regina fucking knew she shouldn't have been able to afford a Benz two years after Dad had gone to prison for insider trading.

"Yeah, okay, gotta go, Mom," she said. "My, uh, case is being moved. I should be back in town in a week or so."

"Girl, you better be! Love ya, bye!"

"My mom," Regina said.

"Your mom," Janis agreed.

They stared at each other. Regina noted, distantly, that Janis had a huge smear of lipstick all over her mouth now.

"When this is all done, we should." Janis cleared her throat. "Pick that back up again. Only, hopefully, more."

"Oh, yes. Absolutely. Agreed, one hundred percent."

Silence again.

Regina's earpiece crackled. "Hey, just wondering, is it possible to smuggle wild rice in deflating implants? Myself and a judge would like to know."

"Damian!" Regina said.

"Gross!" Janis yelled.

"I'm just saying! Anyway, we traced the call. She's just down the block. You've got green for a bust."

Janis quirked her eyebrows at Regina. "Ready to arrest your mom?"

She was going to need so, so much therapy after this. Hopefully therapy augmented by crazy, gay, cross-bureau sex. "Absolutely," Regina said, and they were off.