Title:  Accidental Voyeur

Author:  Harper

Email: Xfjnky2@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Fandom:  Birds of Prey

Pairing:  Helena/Barbara

Archiving:  It’ll be at www.realmoftheshadow.com/harper.htm.  If anyone else is interested, please just ask.

Disclaimer:  I don’t make any profit from this, and the characters don’t belong to me.

A/N:  It’s a little bit of nothing.  This is un-beta’d, so all mistakes belong solely to me.  I’m sure I’ll be horribly embarrassed by them later.  If you’d like to send feedback, you can catch me at Xfjnky2@yahoo.com.

“Make it stop raining,” Helena commanded with a grimace, sinking down on the couch, wet clothes and all.

Not bothering to look up from Delphi, Barbara murmured, “I’m Oracle, not God.  And get off of the couch.  You weren’t raised in a barn.”

Sticking her tongue out at the back of the other woman’s head, Helena said sarcastically, “Nope, just conceived in one.”

Voice slyly calm over the clicking of keyboard keys, Barbara said, “Oh really?  And here I always thought it was the Batcave.”

“That’s just disturbing,” Helena muttered, heaving herself up off the couch with a long-suffering sigh.  Then, with slightly more interest in her voice, the brunette asked, “You and Dickie ever get it on in the ‘cave?”

Tilting her head to the side, green eyes cool over the thin black rim of her glasses and face shadowed in the flickering light of the monitor before her, Barbara scowled slightly.  “You didn’t just ask me that,” she said, voice only slightly incredulous.  After all, it wasn’t as if the question was completely out of character for the other woman.

One brow arching slightly, Helena purred, “Ooh, so that must mean yes.  Kinky, Babs.  Were you still wearing the suits?  I can picture it now, you and the Boy Blunder getting all hot and bothered, all that black rubber squeaking, you trying to find a guano-free spot on the floor…”

“Funny,” Barbara deadpanned, eyes widening slightly as Helena nonchalantly slid her wet shirt over her head, tossing it in the general direction of the kitchen.  Gesturing expansively with one hand, she said sharply, “Need a little privacy?”

“Not really,” Helena replied coolly, easily snapping open the line of buttons running along the front of her leather pants.  “I could use a little help though.  This stuff’s hell to get off when it’s dry, much less when it’s soaked up about 15 gallons of rainwater.  Think you could lend me a hand or two?  Unless you’d rather use your teeth.  Actually, I think I’d prefer that.”

Shaking her head, Barbara laughed lightly.  “What would you do if I actually took you up on your innuendo one day?”

Eyes narrowing speculatively, head tilted to the side, Helena appeared to ponder the question for a moment.  Lips curling up on a smile as if her mental machinations had led her to the secret of life, she drawled, “Well, there are two ways I can answer that question.  Do you want the just plain pornographic or the explicitly pornographic version?”

Rolling her eyes, Barbara scoffed.  “Please.  Save the big talking for someone who’ll actually believe you.”

“You don’t believe me?” Helena asked innocently, face a study in coquettish coy.  “You don’t think I’m telling the truth when I say that if you gave me even a single hint that you’d be interested, I’d have you naked and flat on your back so fast we wouldn’t even have time to get to the bed?  Hell, I’d fuck you on the floor, right there.  Probably wouldn’t even get half your clothes off.”

“Actually…” Barbara murmured blankly, “No, I don’t.  But it does baffle the mind, what with your finely tuned sense of romance.”

“I can do romantic,” Helena muttered, slumping down on the couch once more to struggle out of her wet boots.  Growling slightly as the knot in one shoelace proved particularly troublesome, she said, “You didn’t ask me for romance.  You asked me what I’d do if you ever took me up on my innuendo.  It seemed more like a spur of the moment kind of thing, not the taking time to plan a candlelit dinner kind of thing.  You want romance?  Is that what you’re saying?”

Barely holding back a chuckle as she watched the brunette glare malevolently at her boot, the few rather saucy curses whispered under the other woman’s breath almost enough to break her façade of detached bland amusement, Barbara managed to say calmly, “I didn’t say I wanted romance.  I didn’t say I wanted anything.”

Shooting the other woman a decidedly angry glare, though how much of it was really directed her way and how much was a left-over of the other woman’s footwear induced ire, Helena ripped the shoe off and snarled, “No.  Of course not.  You’re too good for me.”

“Helena,” Barbara said immediately, exasperated.  “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say anything, remember,” the brunette snapped, attacking her other shoe with undue vigor.

Voice sharp, temper flaring at the other woman’s antagonistic words, Barbara said, “What’s the matter with you?”

“Any number of things,” Helena drawled dryly.  “Take your pick.  I’ve got a personality disorder for all occasions.”

Feeling herself on the edge of throwing up her hands and conceding the conversation, Barbara said, irritated, “You frustrate me.”

“And I told you I could take care of that,” Helena replied calmly, smirking as she managed to pull off her second boot, “but no… you want romance.”

“You’re impossible,” Barbara muttered, shaking her head.

“On the contrary,” Helena drawled, a decidedly sneaky grin inching across her features, “I’m remarkably easy.  Want to give me a try?”

“I prefer to buy new, not used,” Barbara shot back blithely, mirth dancing through her eyes.

“Barbara,” Helena exclaimed, vaguely surprised.  “I can’t believe you said that.  Now I’m going to think you think I’m a woman of loose virtue, among other things.”

“As if I would dare,” Barbara said drolly.  “Your devotion to chastity should be a model for us all.”

Standing up abruptly, struggling with wet pants determined to stay where they were, Helena shot back, “See, now you’re getting snarky.  Keep that up, and I might just have to do something drastic.”

“Drastic?” Barbara echoed, amused.  “What… like taking off all your clothes?

“No,” Helena said, drawing the word out as she flopped back down on the couch and glared at her pants, now bunched up around her ankles.  “I might start looking for a prime patch of floor.”

“Upon which to ravish me, I presume,” Barbara said, tone vaguely mocking.

Smirking triumphantly as she managed to free herself of the wet pants, now clad only in a pair of snug black boxer briefs and a tight black sports bra, Helena nodded decisively.  “But of course.  What else would I want to do?  Pitch a tent?”

Snorting gently, Barbara murmured, “Of course not.  You don’t have the proper equipment.”

Glaring gently as she picked up on the double entendre, Helena said silkily, “Oh, I have it alright.  Just not here.”

Rolling her eyes, Barbara sighed.  “I really don’t want to know.”  Then, a beat later, she said, somewhat incredulous, “That’s what you wear underneath that Huntress get-up?”

“Yeah,” Helena replied, slightly offended.  “What’d you think I’d wear?  A thong?  You ever try to kick somebody’s ass in a thong?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Barbara mused, eyes twinkling gently at the outrage in her companion’s voice.  “But then again, the only thing I used to wear under my suit was a liberal coating of baby powder.”

“Baby powder?” Helena repeated, confused.

Nodding sagely, Barbara hummed, “Uh-hmm.  Chafing.”

Tilting her head to the side speculatively, looking at the redhead as if she was trying to piece the scene together, to puzzle the spare words out into something that seemed to make more sense, Helena finally smiled, the gesture bordering on a smirk.  “That’s pretty hot,” she said, voice low.  “Nothing between you and all that rubber but some baby powder?  Now you’ve got me all turned on.”

“I’m not sure I like the direction of this conversation,” Barbara said primly, though the lack of rigidity in her posture hinted that she wasn’t truly upset.

“Really?” Helena questioned, faux hesitance painting her tone.  “That’s too bad then, because you’ll probably absolutely hate what I’m about to do.”

“Oh?” Barbara questioned archly.  “What is it you’re about to do?”

“This,” Helena said succinctly, then closed the distance between the two of them in moves so fluid as to be almost seamless.  She was leaning over Barbara in a second, hot breath scorching against the redhead’s lips for scant milliseconds before she was kissing her.  Tongue bold, she pressed in as close as she could get, quickly gentling the kiss from borderline frantic to honey slow and teasing, only drawing back when she’d drawn a whimper from deep in Barbara’s chest.

“What was that?” the redhead asked, panting, eyes glittering and dark.

Smiling easily, the expression one of utter contentment, Helena said thickly, “Just me putting an end to all this ridiculous banter.  I think it was about time, don’t you?”

“Time?” Barbara echoed dumbly, tongue sneaking out to lick nervously at her bottom lip.  “Uh, hard to say.”

“Not especially,” Helena replied glibly, intensely pleased with herself for wringing that particularly graceless sentence from a normally articulate Oracle.  “Now, what do you say we do something about the sexual tension, too.”

“Sexual tension?” Barbara repeated, brows drawing downward in a frown.

“Yeah,” Helena said easily, pushing back gently against the arms of Barbara’s chair, easing her backwards in the direction of the bedroom.  “You know, that awkwardness between us.  Like how you get all nervous and cute when you catch me checking you out, or how you blush when I catch you.  And all that extra nervousness when we get too close to one another, like we’re afraid we might touch and just lose control right there and say to hell with it and just fuck on the floor right beside your chair.  Right there, on that little podium you sit on when you’re playing queen to Delphi, looking so fucking hot that sometimes I lay in bed and cum thinking about you with your glasses on concentrating on whatever’s on that screen.”

“Helena,” Barbara gasped, not quite sure whether to be offended or aroused by the picture the other woman painted, but finding herself unaccountably warm at its recounting nonetheless.  “You can’t just say things like that…”

“Why not?” the brunette broke in, relentlessly pushing Barbara slowly backwards.  “We talk about everything but how much I want you and how much I think you probably want me.  You’re in my head every night, Barbara.  Maybe now I want to be in yours.”

“In my head?” Barbara asked breathlessly, slightly confused.

“In anywhere you’ll let me,” Helena shot back with an almost ruthless grin.

Voice weak, eyes troubled, Barbara asked, “Why do this now?”

“Why not?” Helena said, tone flippant.  “Do I strike you as the kind of girl who makes plans?  I want you, I think you want me, and I’m tired of waiting.  No grand explanation.  No really intensive thought process behind it.  Just me being me, trying to take what I want before it’s not mine to take anymore.”

“I don’t know that I like that,” Barbara said, voice tinged with a hint of fire.  “It smacks of possession and domination.”

“Probably because that’s what it is,” Helena said with a shrug.  “If you want pretty words of love, I can give them to you, because I’m sure as hell in love with you, Barbara.  If you didn’t know that, then you’re a fool.  A blind fool.  A blind, idiotic fool.  A blind, idiotic and nearsighted fool.  A blind, idiotic and nearsighted fool who can possess and dominate me any time she wants.”

“You’re right,” Barbara drawled drolly.  “You do speak such sweet words of love.  Enough to woo even the most stoic, I would imagine.  Besides, you can’t be blind and nearsighted at the same time.”

“Kiss me and I’ll shut up,” Helena promised earnestly, blue eyes dancing with mirth.  “It’s not a complicated process, really.  You keep my lips and tongue occupied, and I’ll use them for something better than talking.”

“You really think this is going to get me into bed?” Barbara asked, gesturing between the two of them, her expression one of dry disbelief.  “I do have standards, after all.”

“Oh please,” Helena huffed, rolling her eyes.  “You don’t have standards, Barbara.  You dated Dick, didn’t you?”

“What’s so bad about Dick?” Barbara asked, genuinely interested.  She’d thought Dick was a really good guy, all things considered.

Pausing, frowning as she pondered just how to respond, Helena nibbled on her lower lip.  “I don’t know.  He’s not me?” she offered finally, shrugging.

“I find your logic flawed.”

“I find I don’t really care.”  Helena paused, lids drooping over increasingly dark eyes.  Breathing slowing nearly to a halt, she leaned forward, nose twitching as Barbara’s scent subsumed her sense of smell.  “I’m going to kiss you again,” she husked, licking suddenly dry lips.

“Don’t you think we should take this slow?” Barbara nearly stuttered, flushing deep red with embarrassment when Helena smirked as a result.

Lips twitching, Helena murmured, “Take things slow?  You say things like that, and I’m going to think you’re interested.  Are you?”

Blinking slowly, Barbara repeated dully, “Am I what?”

“Interested?” Helena queried, one brow cocked with interested.

“I don’t know,” Barbara replied honestly, tone slightly amazed, as if even she couldn’t believe she’d admitted it.

Looking rather smug, Helena said brightly, “I think you are.”

“Oh you do,” replied Barbara, sounding vaguely amused.  “And why is that?”

“Because we’re in your bedroom,” Helena said, as if the answer should have been clear.

Looking around, finding herself somewhat shocked to realize that it was true, Barbara said, “Doesn’t mean a thing.”

“Sure it does,” Helena chided, clicking her tongue in disapproval.  “You could’ve put the breaks on any time, but you didn’t.  Nope… you just let me push you in here.  Didn’t protest, didn’t tell me to stop.”

“And what if I told you to stop now?” Barbara asked archly, smile teasing at her lips.

“I’d stop,” Helena said immediately.  “Of course, then I’d be forced to die of sexual frustration and you’d have to explain it to… well, Alfred, I guess.  He’s the only other person who would care.  Of course, it might make him blush.”

“Helena,” Barbara sighed, a dark edge in her tone.  “Alfred certainly isn’t the only other person who would care.”

Almost whining, Helena pouted.  “Barbara, can we just forget about my abject lack of friends and move on to the kissing?  I promise, it’s ten times more fun than psychoanalyzing me.”

“I never agreed to the kissing,” Barbara said sternly, though the burgeoning dimples in her cheeks gave her away.

Rolling her eyes, sliding one hand behind Barbara’s neck while the other braced on her chair, using the leverage to pull the redhead closer, Helena sighed.  “Enough with the protesting.  You’ve been checking me out for the last ten minutes.  Gonna use something other than your eyes to undress me?”

Smiling wickedly, Barbara murmured, “I’m not sure.  Maybe you should try to convince me it would be in my best interests.”

“Ooh, now you’re teasing,” Helena muttered, slowly closing the distance between them.  “I like it.  Mind if we leave your glasses on for this?”

“Helena,” Barbara squawked, outraged.

Innocent smile in place, the brunette grinned.  “What?  It’s a harmless little fetish.  It’s not like I’m asking you to paint me with latex and stand me in the corner.”


The barked words drew her attention, and Dinah drew her hand away from Helena’s shoulder as if she’d been scalded, face immediately burning bright red.  “Uh, yeah?” she stuttered, unable to look the other woman in the eye.

“I know you weren’t peeking,” Helena nearly growled, looking pointedly at the blonde’s hand, now hanging loosely by her side.

“Of course not,” Dinah lied weakly, the words entirely unconvincing.  “I mean… it’s not like I meant to do it.  It just happened.”

“Uh-huh,” Helena drawled, apparently not appeased.  “What’d you see?”

“Nothing,” Dinah stammered, gulping.

Wagging her finger at the younger woman, Helena tsked.  “Not nice of you to lie.  Try again.”

“Nothing,” Dinah vowed defensively, blushing even further.  “Well, maybe something…”

“And this something would be?” Helena asked grumpily when the blonde trailed off, one brow arching in expectation.

“Nothing important,” Dinah said, shrugging.

Shaking her head, reluctant to let the topic go but too lazy to beat it out of the girl, Helena sighed.  “Whatever.  Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t,” Dinah said fervently, knowing as she said it that it wasn’t necessarily a promise she could keep.  She still wasn’t able to control her powers as much as she’d like, hence the occasional slip.  Then, unable to stop herself, the words rushing out before she could catch them, the blonde asked, words rushed, “Is that really how you two got together?”

Looking vaguely surprised for a moment, the expression soon shifting into a contented smile, Helena shrugged one shoulder, the gesture infuriatingly indifferent.  “You’re the one who watched the replay kid.  You tell me.”

Licking her lips nervously, body zinging with anticipation, Dinah strove for blithe as she said, “Maybe I could check out the rest?”

Helena was taken aback for a moment, but quickly fell easily into her trademark smirk.  “You wish.”

Biting her bottom lip nervously, surprised she’d asked in the first place and even more surprised that Helena hadn’t knocked her unconscious as soon as she’d said it, Dinah nodded nervously.  “I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to end the conversation and flee.

“No doubt,” Helena nearly purred, darting forward until she was inches away from Dinah.  In fact, she got so close that Dinah thought for one dizzying, electrifying moment that they were going to kiss, but then Helena’s cheek slid past hers, the other woman’s lips tickling the shell of her ear as she spoke.  “It was so good the pictures alone could get you off.  We did things you can’t even imagine, little girl,” she teased, smirk deepening at Dinah’s quickly indrawn breath, at the sudden increase in her heart rate.

Drawing back, looking infinitely pleased with herself, Helena turned slowly, sauntering out of the room.

Left by herself, trying to recover from the moment, Dinah cleared her throat, dying to know even though she couldn’t believe she was going to ask.  “Hey Helena,” she called out, voice unsteady.

The other woman froze, turning her head only slightly so that Dinah was visible at the edge of her peripheral vision.  “Yeah?” she said curtly, surprised.

“Did she…” Dinah started, then paused, gathering her courage.  “Did she wear the glasses?”

Lips immediately curling into a self-satisfied smile, Helena nodded.  Voice deepening with arousal at the mere remembrance, she drawled, “Oh yeah.”

Then she started walking again, this time with more purpose, and Dinah was fairly sure she knew exactly where the other woman was headed.


Harper Birds Of Prey Main Index