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It's a cool, airy day in September as Helena and Dinah walk side by side towards Gate C. The line to get into the fair is long, but Dinah apparently knows a guy. And, because crime is down... well, "relatively down," Montoya is already sipping on what looks like straight liquor, her yellow T-shirt lighting up like a freaking yield sign.
She's the one who wanted to come to the Gotham State Fair in the first place. Something about 'letting loose' and knowing 'how important team bonding is.'
Helena calls crap. Fairs are merely cesspools for juvenile criminal activity, but she's never actually been to one. Not since she was seven or so, at least. And Dinah seemed excited for it, so here the three are. Slipping through the back entrance and sliding ten-dollar bills to the teenagers who run the booth in the hopes they won't tell.
"We need to go to the corn stand," Dinah states, as soon as they're in the clear.
"Corn stand?"
"Yeah. The guy dips a whole thing of corn in butter, then dumps paprika and red pepper flakes on it until it's red as hell."
Helena chuckles. She migrates her hand until it's gently sliding into Dinah's. Open palm, threaded fingers, until they're fully holding hands, strolling into the food section of the fair shoulder to shoulder.
Montoya rolls her eyes. "Keep it in your pants," she says, though her smile is obvious, and Dinah tosses back her hair.
"Oh. So, holding hands is pornographic now?"
"It is the way you two do it."
"Don't look then."
"How can I not look? You're like a walking smutty billboard. Eyes sparkling and everything." Montoya fakes a scowl. "It's disgusting."
Helena holds back a smile. She clears her throat, nods to a nearby building to hide her amusement, and changes the subject. "What's in there?" she asks.
"Oh. Uh... 4-H projects and FFA things. Like, photographs and clothes and stuff." Dinah nudges her shoulder. "Do you want to go inside?"
Helena is about to say she's good. She's not super interested in hobby competitions when Montoya throws in, "Absolutely not. We don't have time for any of that kid shit because we've got things to do. Places to be. Food to eat. Rides to puke on," and suddenly, Helena can think of nothing she'd like more.
"We're going to the H place," she says firmly.
Montoya grumbles under her breath, but she doesn't actually say anything. She merely waves her hand in the direction of the building and rolls her eyes, like Helena is asking her to do something ridiculous. But she follows all the same.
When they enter the large room, a blast of AC hits all three of them directly in the face, right as they pass by the water fountain. Montoya curses, Dinah snorts, Helena shrugs, but the negativity fades a few steps later when they're met with what seems like thousands of photos, scrapbooks, and extremely large vegetables.
Helena didn't know pumpkins could get that big.
"It's like Cinderella," she says, mouth ajar. "You could fit a whole person in that."
Dinah bumps their hips together. "Look at you, making a fairy tale reference."
"I know things... sometimes."
Dinah pats Helena on the back, then gets distracted by a large green vegetable in the center of the welcome table. "That's the biggest zucchini I've ever seen," she says.
"It's a cucumber."
"It's a zucchini, Renee. Obviously. There's a sign and everything."
Montoya hums. "Agree to disagree."
"Who taught you that lingo. I've never heard you say that in my entire life."
"I'm full of surprises."
"Mhmm." Dinah narrows her eyes. She shakes her head, then turns away. "Whatever," she finally says. "Helena and I've got crappy photos to look at."
And look at crappy photos Helana and Dinah do. Except, they aren't as bad as Dinah made them sound. A bee buzzing in a field of white flowers. A smiling girl with a dandelion in hand. The photos are creative. Good, even. Given that they were taken by preteens and teenagers, and Helena pauses.
For a tiny moment, she imagines herself behind the camera. Long hair, youthful eyes.
In another life, maybe she could have done something similar as these kids. Draw pictures, paint, or photograph fruit baskets and random household objects.
"You okay?" Dinah asks, a knowing frown on her face. She squeezes Helena's hand, and Helena smiles.
"Yeah," she says. "Just... taking it all in."
"Well, take it in fast," Montoya adds, downing the rest of her vodka. "There's a wine tasting thing at twelve, and I don't want to miss it."
Dinah grins. "Ooooh, wine tasting? Hell, yeah." Helena agrees, so the three of them make their way past the wave of AC and exit on the South side of the building. Smack dab in the middle of the fairgrounds.
The amusement park rides are spinning every which way, dizzying and bright in the light of the sun. Helena should have brought her sunglasses. Always come prepared, and all that. But this isn't an op. Today is all about relaxing: watching kids eat fluffy pink cotton candy and spill frozen lemonade all over themselves.
"Wine stuff is on the bottom floor," Montoya says as they enter the next building- a large, expo center. "Meet me over there?"
"Sounds good."
"Lit."
"Again, with the slang. Aren't you like, 70 years old?"
Montoya shoots up a middle finger as she strolls away, dumping her empty cup in the trash on her way out, leaving Dinah and Helena at the doorway.
"Well, what do you want to do first?" Dinah asks. "There's ice cream on the top floor, a bunch of booths we can try out, though, maybe try to avoid the hair ones, and a magic show just next door."
Helena cringes. "The hair ones?"
"Oh yeah, they'll stick extensions on you, then demand you pay them 100$ for it."
Helena looks at her leather jacket, her boots, and then tussles her hair a bit, well aware of her appearance. "That's... not ideal," she finally says and Dinah snorts.
"No kidding," she says, a hint of softness in her voice. Helena is about to respond with something equally as soft when, out of the corner of her eye, she notices a large banner and an even larger tent.
"What's that?" she asks.
Dinah chuckles. "Hot tubs. Can't have a fair without them."
Helena's jaw drops. "Hot tubs? At a fair? Who buys a hot tub at the fair?!"
"I dunno. Rich people?"
"That's ridiculous."
Dinah's smile turns mischievous. "I say," she declares, leaning in to whisper in Helena's ear. "We go check it out. We could always use a jacuzzi in HQ. Help us relax after long missions... get up to other activities once Montoya goes to sleep."
Helena's cheeks are red; she just knows it. All she can do is nod, following Dinah as she leads them both through a sea of fairgoers, and as the people filter around her, Helena feels something inside of herself.
It isn't exactly peaceful, but it isn't exactly turmoil either. It's something in between. Appreciation, maybe? For Dinah, Montoya, the fair in general, and the fact that hot tubs exist.
"Babe. You've gotta give me some movement back there. It's like I'm hauling a dead animal," Dinah says, her braids falling over her shoulders in slow motion, and Helena smiles.
You know what, she thinks, picking up her speed to meet Dinah half-way. Maybe fairs aren't all that bad.