I Wouldn't Ask


FANDOM: DC Toonverse (JLU)

PAIRING: Huntress/Black Canary



SUMMARY: Putting the pieces together isn't the fun of it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Set after "Double Date." Callmesandy and mosca organized femslash06 (masterlist). I was assigned rysler, who allowed for many possibilities, including Huntress/Black Canary.

E-MAIL: ToTheCavern@yahoo.com or feedback at moodfic's LJ  @ http://moodfic.livejournal.com/107812.html.

Helena doesn't remember running into Black Canary before joining the League, or even during.

Now that she's quit, though, she can't get through three days without running into her. Or slamming into her. Or landing on her.

One night, Helena snarls, backs up a couple of steps. "Could you maybe try staying out of my way?"

Black Canary tosses her hair back, grins slow and wide.

"Maybe I don't want to."

* * * * *

Helena knows Black Canary's name is Dinah, but using it seems impersonal, somehow. Fake. She tries to avoid it whenever possible.

She calls her "Canary," and the syllables roll against her tongue like tart pebbles.

* * * * *

"Your boyfriend's kind of a freak, you know."

"Says the woman dating a man who wears a feather in his cap."

"At least he has a face."

"Hey! He has legitimate reasons for wearing--"


* * * * *

The moon is full, shining even through the sheeting rain. They start at opposite ends of the city. Helena interrupts an assault and battery, and Black Canary chases off a couple of would-be bank robbers.

The perps are members of the same gang, and their paths converge in the middle of a junkyard. Black Canary takes out the punk pulling a gun on Helena. Helena ropes the punks up while Black Canary calls the Watchtower.

"Cops on their way?" Helena asks, wiping mud off her hands.

Black Canary nods, then frowns at the spangled mess of her costume. "I need a shower."

"Your place is closer," Helena remarks. Off Black Canary's glare, she shrugs. "What? It is."

* * * * *

She's fiddling with the coffeemaker when Black Canary emerges from her bedroom, towelling her hair.

Helena glances up, then stares. Black Canary's wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, yards more material than her costume uses. It's unbelievably sexy.

She tugs on the ties of her borrowed robe and feels exposed. When Black Canary meets her gaze, Helena clenches her teeth into a smile. "Nice outfit."

Black Canary looks her up and down, smiles and steps close.

Closer, and Helena forgets to breathe.

* * * * *

Vic calls from Hub City, still chasing a lead on the lethal origins of green marshmallows.

It's three in the morning, and when Helena answers the phone, Black Canary pulls away, her fingers circling back down her thighs.

Helena hisses, grabs her hand and puts it back in its place. Vic's saying something about orange dye and the Masons.

Black Canary keeps her fingers still, crawls up to whisper into Helena's other ear.

"Dinah," she murmurs, even as Helena bucks up her hips.

Vic explains, The paranormal associates of yellow food dye #5 are well-known to the scientists at Kraft, even if the owners of the company remain unaware.

Helena nods, and when she whimpers into the phone, Vic thanks her for concurring.

* * * * *

The nights following are full of fury, because they thrash through the city's underworld with aplomb. It's been a while since Helena really teamed up, and she'd forgotten how much easier things are when someone's watching her back.

She doesn't mention it to Dinah. The woman's smug enough as it is.

When they've finished tying up a flashy, would-be serial killer, however, Helena calls her "Canary" again.

Dinah smirks, and says, "You're welcome."

* * * * *

Half the time, Dinah's off-shift when Green Arrow's at the Watchtower. Somehow, he's convinced the current keeper to hook up a private channel.

He is much, much better at phone sex than Vic. Helena appreciates that. A lot.

When he calls in, just after the sun rises, Helena plucks the comm unit out of Dinah's ear, fiddles to switch it to speaker.

Dinah sprawls back on the bed and watches Helena undress. Green Arrow's saying something about Dinah's tits, which is predictable but accurate. Dinah's rolling her eyes, so Helena clambers over the bed and licks a slow line over her d'colletage.

Dinah? Green Arrow's still on the line, and the pause has been too long.

Helena moves up, leaving small bites over Dinah's shoulder, throat. She settles on Dinah's ear, sucks lightly on her earlobe. "Go ahead," she mumbles. "Let him hear it."

And she works her fingers beneath the crotch of Dinah's costume, finds damp curls through the cloth.

Dinah clamps her lips over a yelp, but an uhl escapes.

Green Arrow hums over the line, and starts talking again. Helena lets him--she doesn't like the guy, but he gets Dinah hot. This is fun.

There's static, or a rustle of cloth. Helena yanks off Dinah's costume, but leaves the boots and the fishnet stockings.

She presses her mouth between Dinah's legs, listens to her moan, and Green Arrow's echo of it. His voice is rough on the line, but Dinah's moving towards high-pitched.

Helena rises on her knees and, deliberately, tears the top of Dinah's stockings, ripping fabric until Dinah's squirming.

She pushes Dinah's hips down with one hand, grasps one of her thighs in another. Spreads her wider, and grinds their hips together, hard.

Dinah curses, grasps her own breasts and squeezes. "God, just, god, like that."

Green Arrow groans, sounds pleased, and Helena thrusts again, and again. Dinah's writhing now, and her thighs are slippery in Helena's hands.

Helena stops.


Dinah's panting, arching, but Helena doesn't move.

"Please," she says. "Please."

Helena raises her eyebrows, and Dinah says, "Helena."

Green Arrow sputters, a burst of white noise. Helena slides two fingers, then three, inside Dinah, plunges and twists rough.

Dinah screams, and the ceiling plaster cracks, just a little.

Helena takes her time, thrusts steadily until Dinah comes a second time.

She licks her fingers clean, then snatches the comm link up from the bedside table.

"Thanks, Ollie," she chirps brightly. "Couldn't have done it without you."

Dinah lets out a short laugh.

"Well, actually," Helena amends, then closes the channel.

"That wasn't necessary." Dinah sits up, and Helena gets distracted by the new angles and curves presented. There are shreds of fishnet still clinging, above the tops of Dinah's boots.

"It was fun," Helena responds. "Isn't that enough?"

* * * * *

The next time Vic's in town, he rubs a chafed area on Helena's left wrist with his thumb.

"What happened?" he asks, and he actually sounds concerned.

"Nothing." Helena turns her head to hide her smile. "Just got a little tied up."

~ ~ ~