DISCLAIMER: Birds of Prey and its characters are the property of Miller/Tobin Productions, Warner Brothers, DC comics etc. no infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
When In Love,
Always Follow The Advice Of Your Wheelchair
By Teh_no
Helena stared at herself in the mirror, waiting for the Fashion Gods to strike her down. She was seriously violating her tomboy cred with the dress she was in. It was red and flow-y and made her look very Scarlett Johansson. Reese would love it.
Then he'd stop working those long hours and avoiding her calls and taking rain checks on their dates and sometimes show up smelling of alcohol and other women's perfume and, most of all, she'd stop caring what he did.
It worked quite well, in theory.
With the traditional whine of motors, Barbara wheelchaired in with fits and spurts of motion. "Confounded thing!" she cursed, pounding the armrest with her fist. Finally, she drew up to conversational distance with Helena.
"'Confounded thing'?" Helena repeated, dubious.
"Some of us think that it's proper to censor ourselves, now that we have innocent ears in the tower." The wheelchair pivoted a little to the left with a groan. Barbara slapped it. "Sorry, malfunction with the telepathic interface. I think it may be getting some interference from my subconscious."
"This never happens with Wonder Woman's invisible robot plane," Helena said unhelpfully.
"How would you know? It's invisible!" Barbara shot back before her chair lurched forward, ramming Helena's legs like a very aggressive midget. "I'm really sorry."
"That's okay."
"No, I mean, I'm sorry. Reese called." A bump from the wheelchair punctuated every single one of Barbara's sentences. "He says he can't make it, he's busy…"
"Busy being a jerk. You traced him?"
Barbara quickly amped up her defenses, forgetting to chasten her wheelchair for continuing to bump into Helena. "No, that would be a violation of his…"
"Just tell me what he's doing."
"Housewife with questionable judgment."
Helena blinked. "I was expecting him to be a supervillain. I think this is slightly worse." Her urge to vomit raised a few levels. "No, no, it's a lot worse. Babs, could you please get that thing to stop humping my leg!"
As if offended, the wheelchair surged forward, knocking Helena's legs out from under her and depositing her in Barbara's lap.
"Oh," Barbara said, surprised to find Helena's cleavage pressing against her own, Helena's fingers wrapped around her forearm, Helena's hair dangling between their faces, which were inches apart.
"Oh," Helena said, surprised to find her legs intertwined with Barbara's, the shocking yet somehow expected warmth of Barbara's flesh between her fingers, the way Barbara's other hand rested on her hand, as if pinning it in place atop the armrest.
Helena didn't move.
Barbara didn't move.
The wheelchair didn't move.
"You have…" Helena took off Barbara's glasses, "really beautiful eyes."
The wheelchair lurched into motion. Neither of them paid it much mind.
"Thanks," Barbara said, watching Helena set them down on a passing table. "You have really beautiful… everythings."
"This dress is really uncomfortable," Helena said. "And I hate wearing high heels."
Barbara reached down Helena's legs, bared by the classy-yet-compromising hemline of her dress, and undid the spaghetti straps. Helena assisted in kicking them off.
The wheelchair stopped.
They had arrived in Barbara's bedroom.
"Now that you mention it," Barbara said, "my socks are terribly itchy. They're argyle and I might be allergic. Also, my underthings."
"Your underthings," Helena repeated, raising an eyebrow as she transferred Barbara from chair to bed.
"Yes. You should take them off immediately, for a very good reason that I'm going to think up later."
"Can't argue with that."
The wheelchair happily jittered back and forth, urging Helena to join Barbara on the bed.
"This is all too Freudian for me," Helena said before kicking the wheelchair on its side. "Settle down, Beavis."
"My wheelchair's name is not Beavis," Barbara protested hotly as Helena began undressing her.
"You named your wheelchair?"
"You named your boobs!"
"Only so I could introduce them to you."
Barbara sprung for a handshake.
Helena made sure all the introductions were in order.
The wheelchair sat on its side and waited for its wheels to stop moving, happy to have helped.
The End