seriousfic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
seriousfic) wrote2008-07-09 11:44 am
seriousfic) wrote2008-07-09 11:44 am
Entry tags:
Fic: Teammates (Birds of Prey)
Title: Teammates
Fandom: Batman comicverse
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Helena Bertinelli, Big Barda
Word Count: 1,491
Timeline: Takes place shortly after Birds of Prey 107
Summary: Helena’s just gotten used to taking orders from one paranoid control freak, she’ll be damned if she’s going to start following a bitch like Katarina Armstrong. But Barda’s used to being part of a dictatorship…
Helena was very close to making a stupid decision. She could tell it was a stupid choice… she’d worked for Barbara long enough to know that… but she wasn’t sure it wasn’t the right choice. Spy Smasher or Katarina or whatever the fuck she wanted to call herself was a Class-A bitch and the team would be better off if they dropped her out of the Aerie. She was about to say so… run the idea up the flagpole and see if anyone saluted… when Barda’s thick hand gristled around her arm and tugged her toward the back of the plane.
“Don’t think you’re off the hook either, ‘Barda’.” Katarina called after them. “How do you think your neighbors would like to know that you’re from Apokolips?”
Barda tugged Helena into the cargo hold, slamming the door shut behind her. The Mega-Rod brushed against the side of her massive thigh when it jangled, humming with force. With Barda’s near-symbiotic relation to her weapon, Helena could tell Barda was just as angry as she was. Just a lot more stoic about it.
“Did you hear what she said?” Helena asked, a little furious with Barda too for not frothing at the mouth. She was an Apokoliptian, right? That was what they did. “We’d all be better off with her dead!”
Barda nodded. “But Manhunter would probably tell on us, so we’d have to kill her too. And I like her.”
“You just like her for her staff.”
“It’s a very becoming weapon.” Barda gripped Helena at the shoulders, squeezing them hard. “Relax. Whatever you do, you’re going to fail at it if you don’t calm down.”
“How can I be calm? That bitch is screwing up our team.” Helena raised clenched fists in argument. “The one thing in my life that isn’t completely fucked and she’s fucking it. Like I should be surprised. This team’s been in the shithouse since Canary left and not all the superheroines in the world can fix that.”
There were things Helena liked about the new team. She was respected, as a Justice Leaguer, as a veteran, and that was nice, even if she was usurping Dinah’s rightful place. Barbara trusted her now, too. They were the old guard and Barbara let her in on the decision-making process as much as she let anyone in. But then there was Katarina and Dinah being gone and, hell, Barda.
They were too much alike, that was the problem. Barda had a zest for combat, a little bit of crazy in her. Helena recognized it from how people talked about her. The recklessness, the untrustworthiness… it reminded Helena far too much of herself and she hated to think that all the people who’d called her on it might’ve had a point. And there was a bit of jealousy… Barda might’ve jumped onto planes for a living, but she still had trusted friends in the Justice League and a loving husband and all the niceties. Maybe it was because she was an alien that they let her get away with it, while Helena was always the psycho, the freak-job.
Barda’s hands rubbed up and down, making the leather of Helena’s armguards creak. With surprising dexterity, Barda found the zippers on the sleeves and undid them. “Here.” She guided Helena to a crate, gently lying her down on her stomach. “Let me try to help.”
“What could you do?”
Barda’s hands moved over Helena again, undoing her cape. “My husband and I know many ways to relax each other after a long battle. You’ve seen me regenerate. It leaves tension in the musculature unlike anything you’ve known.”
Barda stretched her arms wide and flexed her muscles and leaned down to Helena. The hands descended on Helena’s back and gripped two knots of tension below her shoulder blades, squeezing them, then massaging them down into nothingness. Helena sighed happily.
“Thanks.” She pillowed her arms under her head. “This is really above and beyond,” she said, thinking of how Katarina wouldn’t touch her to scratch her. To gouge her eyes out, maybe.
“It is a common gesture among the Female Furies, one of camaraderie and affection.” Barda cracked Helena’s neck one-handedly, getting a crick out of it that had been bothering her since Gotham. Then she paused, weirdly hesitant. When she spoke again, her voice was less gruff and more… affable? “Speak to me of your encounter with Catman?”
“Blake?” Helena turned her head over so she could see Barda out of the corner of her eye. “He was alright. I stuck two arrows in his leg and threw a meatball at his head. Don’t think it made for much of a first impression.”
Barda had strong hands and Helena felt shivers running through her body as Barda dug into her flesh and moved those hands up and down her thighs from her knees to her hips, kneading and pressing and waking up long-lost nerves. “You should’ve seen me when I first met Scott.”
“You helped him escape from an oppressive, fascist hellhole.”
“I guess that counted for more than insulting his shoes.”
“His shoes?”
“They were very bad. You should’ve seen them. Ugly.”
Helena nodded, unsure. Barda had slid her hands up Helena’s hips and rolled them around her side so that they were between her and the crate. They were massaging her belly now, pressing hard and deep into Helena’s well-developed midsection. Barda worked in expanding circles around Helena's bellybutton in a way that made Helena wish she still had her “tummy window,” as Sin had nicknamed it. Strange as it seemed, Barda was growing on her. From a distance, the Female Fury was imposing JLA-material, the kind of outer-space hoodoo that no Bat could be comfortable with. It was only when you got close that you saw the ring on her finger.
“I kinda wish I could meet someone like that, a diamond in the rough. But I just keep going to bad places and I meet bad men…”
“But you go there with good people,” Barda reasoned.
The massage was feeling better by the minute. In fact, Helena was pretty sure she was so free of the tension that she would drip down into a puddle if she got up. She rested her chin on her arms and looked straight ahead at the wall. “All women. Damnit, would it kill Oracle to put some Y chromosomes on the team?”
“I’m sure she has her reasons.”
“Yeah, something about unit cohesion or feminism… I think it’s just because she likes ordering around attractive women in tight clothes.”
Barda smiled. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
Helena started.
Barda ran her knuckles over Helena’s ribs, back and forth, digging between them and pushing them apart. The old creaks and cracks that could make breathing a bitch at times flared up, but were quelled. Helena had to wonder if Barda was actually healing her through some miracle of New God magic. “The Female Furies were a very good team. My only regret is having to leave them. I tried to take them with me… it didn’t work out.”
“Must be nice, being part of a team again.”
“It’s… difficult to take orders and not give them.” Barda’s hands were traveling over Helena’s upper back, reducing the muscles there to mush. “You’re a good leader, though.”
“Thanks. But I really just relay what Barbara says.”
“You are willing to disobey her. That’s important.”
Helena laughed. “And now Babs kicks us off the team for stirring up a little rebellion.”
Barda’s thumbs circled behind Helena’s ears, reducing the headache there to a faint mist. She finished with a surpassingly gentle rub down the full length of Helena’s back. “There. Feel better?”
“A lot, thanks.” Helena rolled onto her back and absently did up everything Barda had unzipped. “Say, you doing anything this evening?”
“Dinner with my husband and Oberon.”
“Oh.”
“But I do that every night. He’ll understand if I’m detained.”
“Cool.” Helena nodded briskly. “Because I was thinking we… I mean, the whole team… could go get some drinks.”
“Have you talked with the others about this?”
“Zinda’s a given, but no, you’re the first.”
“I think some of them might be… intimidated by me.”
“Eh, they just have to get to know you.” She clapped Barda on the shoulder and felt hard iron. Helena wouldn’t get into a fight with the woman for a million bucks. “C’mon. Just us girls. Night on the town. Celebrate in style. Treat ourselves.”
“The Female Furies’ only reward for victory was not being blasted into atoms,” Barda said, glowering at Helena’s impertinence. Then she smiled, beaming, all Earth. “I suppose a few Cosmopolitans would be more satisfying.”
“Great! I’ll buy first round.” Helena pulled on her cape and went to round up the others, passing by Katarina with a cheerful body-check. Maybe this team could work without Dinah. As long as there was lots of alcohol.
Fandom: Batman comicverse
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Helena Bertinelli, Big Barda
Word Count: 1,491
Timeline: Takes place shortly after Birds of Prey 107
Summary: Helena’s just gotten used to taking orders from one paranoid control freak, she’ll be damned if she’s going to start following a bitch like Katarina Armstrong. But Barda’s used to being part of a dictatorship…
Helena was very close to making a stupid decision. She could tell it was a stupid choice… she’d worked for Barbara long enough to know that… but she wasn’t sure it wasn’t the right choice. Spy Smasher or Katarina or whatever the fuck she wanted to call herself was a Class-A bitch and the team would be better off if they dropped her out of the Aerie. She was about to say so… run the idea up the flagpole and see if anyone saluted… when Barda’s thick hand gristled around her arm and tugged her toward the back of the plane.
“Don’t think you’re off the hook either, ‘Barda’.” Katarina called after them. “How do you think your neighbors would like to know that you’re from Apokolips?”
Barda tugged Helena into the cargo hold, slamming the door shut behind her. The Mega-Rod brushed against the side of her massive thigh when it jangled, humming with force. With Barda’s near-symbiotic relation to her weapon, Helena could tell Barda was just as angry as she was. Just a lot more stoic about it.
“Did you hear what she said?” Helena asked, a little furious with Barda too for not frothing at the mouth. She was an Apokoliptian, right? That was what they did. “We’d all be better off with her dead!”
Barda nodded. “But Manhunter would probably tell on us, so we’d have to kill her too. And I like her.”
“You just like her for her staff.”
“It’s a very becoming weapon.” Barda gripped Helena at the shoulders, squeezing them hard. “Relax. Whatever you do, you’re going to fail at it if you don’t calm down.”
“How can I be calm? That bitch is screwing up our team.” Helena raised clenched fists in argument. “The one thing in my life that isn’t completely fucked and she’s fucking it. Like I should be surprised. This team’s been in the shithouse since Canary left and not all the superheroines in the world can fix that.”
There were things Helena liked about the new team. She was respected, as a Justice Leaguer, as a veteran, and that was nice, even if she was usurping Dinah’s rightful place. Barbara trusted her now, too. They were the old guard and Barbara let her in on the decision-making process as much as she let anyone in. But then there was Katarina and Dinah being gone and, hell, Barda.
They were too much alike, that was the problem. Barda had a zest for combat, a little bit of crazy in her. Helena recognized it from how people talked about her. The recklessness, the untrustworthiness… it reminded Helena far too much of herself and she hated to think that all the people who’d called her on it might’ve had a point. And there was a bit of jealousy… Barda might’ve jumped onto planes for a living, but she still had trusted friends in the Justice League and a loving husband and all the niceties. Maybe it was because she was an alien that they let her get away with it, while Helena was always the psycho, the freak-job.
Barda’s hands rubbed up and down, making the leather of Helena’s armguards creak. With surprising dexterity, Barda found the zippers on the sleeves and undid them. “Here.” She guided Helena to a crate, gently lying her down on her stomach. “Let me try to help.”
“What could you do?”
Barda’s hands moved over Helena again, undoing her cape. “My husband and I know many ways to relax each other after a long battle. You’ve seen me regenerate. It leaves tension in the musculature unlike anything you’ve known.”
Barda stretched her arms wide and flexed her muscles and leaned down to Helena. The hands descended on Helena’s back and gripped two knots of tension below her shoulder blades, squeezing them, then massaging them down into nothingness. Helena sighed happily.
“Thanks.” She pillowed her arms under her head. “This is really above and beyond,” she said, thinking of how Katarina wouldn’t touch her to scratch her. To gouge her eyes out, maybe.
“It is a common gesture among the Female Furies, one of camaraderie and affection.” Barda cracked Helena’s neck one-handedly, getting a crick out of it that had been bothering her since Gotham. Then she paused, weirdly hesitant. When she spoke again, her voice was less gruff and more… affable? “Speak to me of your encounter with Catman?”
“Blake?” Helena turned her head over so she could see Barda out of the corner of her eye. “He was alright. I stuck two arrows in his leg and threw a meatball at his head. Don’t think it made for much of a first impression.”
Barda had strong hands and Helena felt shivers running through her body as Barda dug into her flesh and moved those hands up and down her thighs from her knees to her hips, kneading and pressing and waking up long-lost nerves. “You should’ve seen me when I first met Scott.”
“You helped him escape from an oppressive, fascist hellhole.”
“I guess that counted for more than insulting his shoes.”
“His shoes?”
“They were very bad. You should’ve seen them. Ugly.”
Helena nodded, unsure. Barda had slid her hands up Helena’s hips and rolled them around her side so that they were between her and the crate. They were massaging her belly now, pressing hard and deep into Helena’s well-developed midsection. Barda worked in expanding circles around Helena's bellybutton in a way that made Helena wish she still had her “tummy window,” as Sin had nicknamed it. Strange as it seemed, Barda was growing on her. From a distance, the Female Fury was imposing JLA-material, the kind of outer-space hoodoo that no Bat could be comfortable with. It was only when you got close that you saw the ring on her finger.
“I kinda wish I could meet someone like that, a diamond in the rough. But I just keep going to bad places and I meet bad men…”
“But you go there with good people,” Barda reasoned.
The massage was feeling better by the minute. In fact, Helena was pretty sure she was so free of the tension that she would drip down into a puddle if she got up. She rested her chin on her arms and looked straight ahead at the wall. “All women. Damnit, would it kill Oracle to put some Y chromosomes on the team?”
“I’m sure she has her reasons.”
“Yeah, something about unit cohesion or feminism… I think it’s just because she likes ordering around attractive women in tight clothes.”
Barda smiled. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
Helena started.
Barda ran her knuckles over Helena’s ribs, back and forth, digging between them and pushing them apart. The old creaks and cracks that could make breathing a bitch at times flared up, but were quelled. Helena had to wonder if Barda was actually healing her through some miracle of New God magic. “The Female Furies were a very good team. My only regret is having to leave them. I tried to take them with me… it didn’t work out.”
“Must be nice, being part of a team again.”
“It’s… difficult to take orders and not give them.” Barda’s hands were traveling over Helena’s upper back, reducing the muscles there to mush. “You’re a good leader, though.”
“Thanks. But I really just relay what Barbara says.”
“You are willing to disobey her. That’s important.”
Helena laughed. “And now Babs kicks us off the team for stirring up a little rebellion.”
Barda’s thumbs circled behind Helena’s ears, reducing the headache there to a faint mist. She finished with a surpassingly gentle rub down the full length of Helena’s back. “There. Feel better?”
“A lot, thanks.” Helena rolled onto her back and absently did up everything Barda had unzipped. “Say, you doing anything this evening?”
“Dinner with my husband and Oberon.”
“Oh.”
“But I do that every night. He’ll understand if I’m detained.”
“Cool.” Helena nodded briskly. “Because I was thinking we… I mean, the whole team… could go get some drinks.”
“Have you talked with the others about this?”
“Zinda’s a given, but no, you’re the first.”
“I think some of them might be… intimidated by me.”
“Eh, they just have to get to know you.” She clapped Barda on the shoulder and felt hard iron. Helena wouldn’t get into a fight with the woman for a million bucks. “C’mon. Just us girls. Night on the town. Celebrate in style. Treat ourselves.”
“The Female Furies’ only reward for victory was not being blasted into atoms,” Barda said, glowering at Helena’s impertinence. Then she smiled, beaming, all Earth. “I suppose a few Cosmopolitans would be more satisfying.”
“Great! I’ll buy first round.” Helena pulled on her cape and went to round up the others, passing by Katarina with a cheerful body-check. Maybe this team could work without Dinah. As long as there was lots of alcohol.