Chapter Text
Dinah has almost finished her assignment when she sees the name pop up on her phone screen.
INCOMING CALL
Montoya
There's precisely one reason Renee would be calling her at almost noon on a Tuesday, and Dinah sighs as she swipes to answer the call.
"Give me five minutes to finish this paper, and I'll be there," Dinah says in lieu of a proper greeting.
"We're at Marla's, over on 3rd," Renee replies. "Take your time."
Dinah wraps up her paper and, after a quick spell check, uploads it to her student portal before rushing out the door. Ten minutes later, she pulls up to the coffee shop where Renee is sitting with Cass at one of the small tables outside with a coffee in front of her, and the remnants of an oversized muffin with Cass.
God damn kid, she thinks as she climbs from the car.
"Thanks, Montoya," Dinah says as she approaches.
"No problem." Renee stands from the table and drops her aviator sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to look at Cass, who is still sitting down. "No more free passes, kid."
It's a lie - the same one Montoya uses every time she's the one who catches Cass skipping class or pickpocketing some unsuspecting bypasser on the corner - and Cass knows it, so she just rolls her eyes.
"Go get in the car, Cass," Dinah says, exasperated but not angry. "And tell Montoya thank you for saving your ass. Again."
"Thanks, I guess." Cass shrugs, not even looking at Renee when she does, before skipping off to the car.
"Thank you so much for calling me, Renee. Seriously."
"She's lucky I caught her and not one of the dumbasses on this beat. You know she's like half a strike away from them sending her to juvie. Truancy and petty theft would have practically sealed it."
"I know. God, I know. I love that kid, but I swear..."
She mimics strangling her, and Renee laughs.
"She's a good kid," Renee admits. "She just needs some structure."
"I'm trying." Dinah sighs. "Her foster parents are pieces of shit. Only got her for the check that comes with her, and they spend it all on booze and pills the second it comes in. Half the shit she steals is just so she can eat."
"Fuckin' dirtbags," Renee mutters.
"Tell me about it. Look, I've got a 1:15 class I can't miss, but seriously, I can't thank you enough for calling me instead of dragging her in again. I promise you I'm trying."
"I know you are, kid," Renee says, putting a firm hand on her shoulder and squeezing. "Your mom would be proud."
Cass is quiet for the ride home, pressed up against the door of the car with her backpack on her lap, like she's ready to cut and run at any stop. She doesn't, and when they pull up at the building, she's slow to get out, trailing behind Dinah up the stairs. Dinah unlocks her apartment and holds the door open for Cass to follow her in, and she can see the tension drain out of her.
It ignites a simmering rage inside of her, for Cass to ever feel that kind of anxiety about returning to a place that is supposed to be called home.
"You give Montoya everything?" Dinah asks, and Cass nods. "Look, I know things are shitty, but you can't keep skipping school and stealing shit. Montoya's piece of shit coworkers aren't gonna call me when they're the ones who bust you. They're just gonna haul your ass to the station. You're like thisclose to going to juvie, and I promise, you're not gonna like that any better. What'd I tell you last time?"
"One day, you're gonna pick the wrong pocket," Cass drones, tossing her backpack on the couch and flopping down next to it. She kicks her feet up on the coffee table, and Dinah immediately knocks them down.
"Keep your shoes off my table."
"Yeah yeah," Cass says, leaning down to pull her shoes off.
"I gotta go to class, but I'll be back in like two hours. You can stay here, order some pizza," Dinah tells her, tossing some cash on the table. "Do your homework and don't open the door for anyone other than the delivery driver."
She grabs her laptop and shoves it into her bag before she heads out the door. Just before she closes it behind her, she sticks her head back in. "And don't go through my shit!"
Cass flips her a half-hearted middle finger, and Dinah just laughs and shakes her head, locking up behind herself.
Dinah checks out three different lots before she finds an open spot in the South Lot, cursing at the fact that she still has to make it all the way to the other side of North Quad for her class. After her first year of dorm living, she had worked her ass off over the summer to be able to afford her own apartment. Sure, it was just a small studio, and in a relatively run-down building a mile and a half away from campus, but it was hers and hers alone. She had her own shower, her own kitchen, and never had to worry about walking in on a half-naked roommate with a guy in her bed. Now on her second year of her lease, she's still grateful for all the benefits of living alone, but days like today definitely make her miss living on campus.
As she makes her way across the quad, she tosses her keys in her bag and rifles through the folders shoved in there to pull out the one for her upcoming class. In her distraction, she runs full force into a brick wall - or what feels like it anyway. She's knocked on her ass, papers from her folder flying, and some of the contents of her bag spilling out as well. She sits up, rotating the tender wrist she'd landed on, wincing slightly as it pops.
"Oh, god. I'm so sorry," the other person says, bending down to help gather her items. "I wasn't- I didn't mean-"
Despite the situation, and the fact that she's now definitely late for class, Dinah laughs. "Stop apologizing," she tells her, stuffing things back in her bag.
"I just- I- I'm sorry," the other woman apologizes again, offering a stack of papers to Dinah.
"I'm the one that ran into you," Dinah says, still chuckling. "Though, to be fair, you are kind of built like a brick wall."
Dinah looks up then, into dark brown eyes and a nervous, blushing face, and oh fuck, she's hot. Dinah clears her throat and stands up, dusting off her knees, and the other woman does the same, standing a good couple of inches taller than Dinah, and not just because of the worn-in Doc Martens she's wearing. She bites her lip and tightens her grip on the shoulder strap of her bag.
"Thank you."
The other woman looks confused, head tilted slightly with an adorable crinkle between her eyebrows. "For what?"
"Helping me pick up my stuff." Dinah shrugs, smiling at the other woman. She hears the bells from Gotham City Cathedral ring out 1 o'clock, and she knows she needs to go, but she still can't bring herself to leave. "Let me buy you a drink to apologize? I work at The-"
"Watchtower," the other woman interjects.
"You stalkin' me?" Dinah asks, eyebrow arched.
"No!" she shouts, and then blushes harder, fumbling with her words until she manages, "No. I- I live across the street, so I'm in there a lot. I've just seen you around."
"Why don't I ever see you then?" Dinah asks, curious. "I thought I knew all our regulars."
The other woman shrugs. "I kinda stick to myself? I'm not usually at the bar."
"Well then, if you're already there all the time, come by tonight after 8? I'll be working. Drink on me?"
"S- Sure..." the other woman says, but she drags it out like she's not really sure if she means it.
Dinah smiles brightly anyway, dimples on full display. "Alright, I'm going to be super late for class, but I'll see you tonight," she calls, darting off toward the building she had initially been headed for.
She rushes into her class, red-cheeked and out of breath with barely a minute to spare, somehow managing to make it before her professor, but as she scans the room, she finds exactly one seat available - right next to Harley Quinn.
Rumours were floating around campus since Spring semester the prior year that Harley had been kicked out after a fiasco with the Dean that had also ended in him getting fired. Those rumours also had wildly different accounts of what exactly had gone down, so she wasn't too surprised to see Harley back, but Harley was definitely not in this class before. With a groan, she drags herself up to the empty seat and slides in.
"Dinah!" Harley cries with a wide grin.
"Hi, Harley," Dinah grumbles unenthusiastically. "The hell are you doing in this class?"
"It's the first day! Wouldn't miss it for the world!"
"Harley, classes started three weeks ago."
"They did?"
Before Dinah can respond, the professor walks in, apologizing for his tardiness, and immediately launches into his lecture.
It's only when Dinah reaches into her bag and pulls out a stack of disorganized notes that she realizes she never got the other woman's name.
By the time Dinah's shift at The Watchtower starts, the bar is well on its way to being packed, especially for a Tuesday. As she makes her way to the back office to clock in, she looks across the room for any sign of the other woman and tries not to be too disappointed when a casual scan shows no sign of her. Instead of dwelling on it, she busies herself with work, helping manage the flow of customers, much to the relief of her two co-workers.
When 9 o'clock rolls around, the crowd has thinned out a bit, and Dinah takes the opportunity to restock the bar from the earlier run. As she pushes through the swinging door from the storeroom, two cases of beer stacked in her arms, Dinah sees the other woman sitting at the end of the bar. Her fingers drum against the shiny bar top as she looks around the room, and Dinah grins.
"I was starting to think you wouldn't show."
The other woman jumps and swivels on the barstool towards the sound of the voice. "Well, uh, here I am," she says.
"I'm glad," Dinah sets down the cases and slides open the beer cooler. "You know," she continues, pulling the beers from the cases to restock the fridge, "I realized after I got to my class, I never got your name."
"Oh, um- Helena." She stands, hand outstretched awkwardly for a handshake. "Helena Rosa."
"Dinah Lance," she says, laughing as she shakes Helena's hand. Her hands are cold from the bottles of beer, but Helena's hands are warm - so warm - and Dinah doesn't want to let go.
"Dinah," Helena repeats, still holding her hand. "Nice to actually meet you."
"You too." Dinah smiles and squeezes her hand gently before turning back to her work. She catches Helena out of the corner of her eye, cheeks flushed, and in a daze.
"So how about that drink I owe you?" Dinah asks as she breaks down the now empty cases, attempting to drag Helena out of her own head.
"Yeah. That- sure." Helena says, jerking her attention back to Dinah and shoving her hand in her jacket pocket as she fumbles to sit down on the barstool.
"Let me guess." Dinah eyes Helena, taking in her outfit - all black, from her well-worn boots and faded jeans with a rip across one of the knees to the plain t-shirt and soft leather jacket - and smiles. "The outfit makes me want to say whiskey, but I'm guessing you're more of a vodka tonic girl?"
"How'd you know?"
Dinah shrugs and reaches for the Grey Goose. "Good guess."
When she sets the drink in front of her, Helena pulls out her card, but Dinah waves her away.
"I told you, it's on me."
"So open a tab," Helena replies, unrelenting. Dinah takes the card, but not without a playful glare, and opens a tab at the register, serving a few other customers while she's there.
"Tell me something about yourself," Dinah says when she returns, wiping down the bar next to Helena with a rag.
Helena freezes for a moment, opening and closing her mouth. When nothing comes out, Dinah smiles at her, leans on her side of the bar, and says, "Alright, I'll make it easy. We met on campus, so I'm going to assume you're a student. What's your major?"
"Engineering. Uh, Mechanical Engineering," Helena replies, taking the last swallow of her drink.
"Oh, so you're smart, too," Dinah teases. "Anything else?"
"What?"
"Nevermind," Dinah says, shaking her head. She gestures toward Helena's mostly empty drink and asks, "Another?"
Helena nods. "So, um, what about you?" she asks, picking at her napkin. "What's your major?"
"Social Services," Dinah says, plucking a lime from the garnish caddy on the bar before handing her a new drink.
"So like, foster kids and stuff?"
Dinah nods. "Not always, but yeah, that's some of it. My mom died when I was young, and once I got over feeling nothing but the anger, I just wanted to help people like she did, you know? People - kids - in my situation."
Helena nods and starts to speak, but Dinah laughs and says, "Wow - I'm sorry, that was way too heavy for a get to know you conversation."
"No!" Helena shouts. "It's- I'm sorry."
"Nothing you could've done," Dinah shrugs. "My mom was a good woman who tried to do the right thing, and some shitty people decided they didn't like that."
"I know. I mean- I lost my family too. When I was nine. All of them. I mean, it was a car accident, but-" Dinah's eyes go wide, and Helena trails off, looking at Dinah curiously. "Um- did I say something wrong?"
"No, no," Dinah says, schooling her expression back to neutral. "I mean- it just looks like we both won the childhood trauma lottery."
"I don't think I'd call it a win," Helena deadpans.
"Fair enough," Dinah laughs, and then glances to her right. "Be right back."
Dinah makes her way down the bar, smiling as she refills a few beers and double-checks on everyone sitting at the other side of the bar. As she fills the pint glasses, she looks over at Helena, watches as she fidgets with the straw in her drink, and winks when she looks her way.
She pours herself a water and drops a straw in, then makes her way back to Helena's spot. "So why Mechanical Engineering?" Dinah asks, smiling at her around the straw in her drink.
"I like the precision," Helena says with a shrug. "And I'm good with my hands."
Dinah inhales her water at that, desperately trying not to laugh when she sees the crinkle between Helena's eyebrows and realizes she's not just flirting with Dinah. "Really?"
"What?" Helena asks, genuinely confused.
"Nothing," Dinah replies, shaking her head. "Nothing at all."
The rest of the evening goes much the same way - Dinah plies her with alcohol and food, and they trade questions back and forth as Dinah works. She remains attentive to the other patrons, one eye always on the rest of the bar, but she always comes back to Helena.
Helena is awkward and unsure of herself. Her thoughts come out in a stutter-stop pattern that reminds Dinah of someone trying to remember a script they thought they had memorized, and the alcohol barely eases the tension Dinah can see strung through every muscle of her body. She's funny, though, and so incredibly kind. As they work their way through small talk that wavers between generic and deeply personal - a process Dinah usually finds exhausting, despite her current choice of profession - Dinah can't help but let herself be completely and utterly charmed.
By the time the lights come on for last call, the night having blown by with Helena's company, Dinah's cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
"I guess that's my cue," Helena says, downing the last of her drink and straightening up.
"I guess so." Dinah frowns, not ready for the night to end.
"Thanks. Uh, for the drink."
"Thank you for keeping me company tonight," Dinah smiles, soft and sweet. "I'm glad I ran into you."
"Yeah. Me too."
Dinah steps away to start closing out the tabs in the system, and when she returns to Helena, she puts the tab on the bar and holds out her hand. "Gimme your phone."
"Okay..." Helena says, tilting her head curiously, but she slips the phone from her jacket pocket and hands it over before turning her attention to the bill. After a few seconds of review, she looks up and says, "You undercharged me."
"Did I?" Dinah asks, not looking up from Helena's phone. "Oops."
It will come out of her tips for the evening, sure, but it's worth it, Dinah thinks, for the potential new friendship.
Helena just shakes her head and tallies up the tip.
"There," Dinah says, sliding the phone back across the bartop, her contact programmed in Helena's phone and a text conversation open that just says it's me. "Now you have my number and don't have to resort to knocking me over on the quad just to say hi."
"I did-" Helena starts to protest, but then she sees the smirk Dinah's trying and failing to hide. "You’re joking."
"You're learning," Dinah says proudly, smirk transforming into a full grin as her fingertips brush against Helena’s wrist. "Get home safe, H."
"It's across the street."
"Your point?" Dinah asks, arching her eyebrow at Helena.
"Okay, okay. I'll get home safe." Helena stands, and for a second it looks like she might say something else, but then she just smiles and nods at her.
"Night, H."
"Night, Dinah."
Despite the fact that her fingers itch to message Helena, Dinah swears to herself that she is going to wait for Helena to text her first. She picks up her phone several times and checks the conversation just in case, but the only thing there is the singular message she'd sent to herself.
By Thursday, she starts to wonder if she overestimated things; if Helena had simply been humouring her the other evening and wasn't particularly keen on actually pursuing a friendship.
By Friday, she caves. She's several hours into a day-long study session at the library when she takes a break to stretch and raid the vending machine tucked in the corner. As she waits for the student in front of her to make a selection, she switches over to her messaging app from scrolling Instagram and brings up her conversation with Helena.
you know, i gave you my phone number so you could use it
The response isn't immediate, but it does eventually arrive, and Dinah feels a tension loosen in her shoulders she wasn't aware she was holding.
I didn't want to bother you.
you're not bothering me
what are you doing right now?
Just finished classes. Walking back to my bike.
meet me on south quad?
That's where I am. Where do you want to meet?
wayne library. just finishing up
meet you outside
Okay.
Dinah packs up her laptop and her scattered notebooks with a smile on her face, ready for the weekend to finally start. With The Watchtower closed for a private alumni event, she has a practically unheard of two days off in a row, and she can't wait to take advantage.
She pushes her way out of the library doors and spots Helena approaching in full motorcycle gear. The padding in her black and purple jacket broadens her shoulders, the mid-calf leather boots add a few inches to her already tall frame, and Dinah feels a tug of attraction at the sight. She pauses at the top of the stairs, teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she stares for a moment before she rushes down, greeting Helena with a one-armed hug. Helena makes no attempt to move, just stands stock-still as Dinah squeezes, and when she pulls back, Helena's blushing.
"Okay, for the record, when you said 'bike,' this was not what I was picturing," Dinah says, giving Helena a once over. She hooks her pinky finger around the snap at the cuff of the jacket and tugs lightly, smiling at her. "But I like it."
"Um. Thanks?" Helena replies, tucking her hair behind her ear with her free hand, still blushing wildly.
"So, what are you doing this weekend?" Dinah asks, swinging their not-quite-connected hands slightly.
"I don't know." Helena shrugs. "I don't really... go out much."
"Except for The Watchtower, apparently," Dinah teases, nudging her elbow against Helena's.
"That's- I like to study there."
"You know, most people like to go someplace quiet when they're working," Dinah says, gesturing to the library behind her.
"I know. But, um, the quiet... distracts me, I think," Helena says softly, like she's revealing a secret. (Given the minimal information Dinah has to go off of, maybe she is.) Dinah remembers those days; remembers how it was after her mom's death, when a too-quiet room could drive her mad, with anger and sadness seeping in for no apparent reason.
"What about hanging out with me?" Dinah asks with a smile before the somber moment can settle into the conversation. "I'm off work this weekend and could use the company."
"Okay," Helena nods in agreement, a small smile on her face. "Yeah, that's - I'd like that."
"Good. Come over around 7? I need to shower the library off of me first."
A blush creeps up Helena's neck and to her cheeks as she stammers out an agreement, and Dinah bites her lip to stop herself from commenting on how adorable she is.
"See you soon," she says, tugging at Helena's jacket sleeve once more before letting go.
"Yeah."
Helena gives an awkward wave-slash-almost salute as she turns to leave, and as Dinah watches her, a smile on her face long after Helena's out of sight, she knows she is well and truly screwed.