Sara Lance (taer_alsafer) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-09-02 18:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, harley quinn, sara lance (white canary) |
Who: Sara and Harley
What: Sara needs to blow off some steam
When: Early Augustish
Where: Outside a club
Warnings/Ratings: A homophobic slur, random dildos
Status: Complete
Sara had thought that moving back home would make her life a little less chaotic than living out of a backpack the last five years had been. She’d come back to Orange County not only to make amends with her sister, but also so she could have something resembling stability again.
Instead, the dreams had been giving her the run around, first as the captive assistant of a mad scientist, where she experimented on prisoners to save herself from those same experimentations, and now as a runaway on an island, with a man who had gained super strength for the price of his sanity, with the same scientist trying to kill her and Oliver. The only reason he hadn’t killed her yet was because Oliver had chosen Sara over another girl, Shado, who’d taken the bullet to the head instead. Something that Oliver didn’t hesitate to bring up whenever possible. She’d tied up a man so that she could trade him, against his will, for Oliver’s life, and if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d decided to rig him to a bomb because, if she was going to trade his life for Oliver’s anyway, then he might as well take out the man that was threatening them while he was at it.
And it wasn’t just the dreams now. Now her own sister, the one she’d come to make amends with, was in the hospital following being shot. Sara didn’t know what to do. She was angry and she was agitated. She’d spent most of the morning at Colleen’s dojo, punching things and trying to work out some of the frustration she felt, but after hours of doing that, the only change was that now she was frustrated and had muscle fatigue.
There was really only one person Sara wanted to see now, and so she’d called Harley for a night out. She’d done her makeup, put on a little black dress, and met her at the club. Maybe a night of dancing with one of her favourite people would help Sara get her mind off things.
It wasn’t like Harley couldn’t understand. Her life with the Joker, multiple lives, in fact, and the assorted bat-shit crazy things she got up to and dealt with had pretty much made her an expert in how-to-deal-with-trauma.
She had a degree but experience beat learning sometimes.
And experience told her that forgetting about everything for a night was good medicine and she was never one to turn down the good kind of medicine, if anyone caught her drift.
Her dress wasn’t black, but it was little, her hair still all rainbows from June and her make-up thick and heavy like she didn’t have a care in the world.
She all but pounced on Sara from behind. “Guess who!”
Sara whirled away from Harley, prepared to defend herself from whatever it was that had snuck up behind her, but she let out a deep breath when she realized it was Harley, and stepped forward to give the other woman a tight hug. She was a little embarrassed by her (over)reaction, but she was even more relieved to see Harley there.
“Am I ever glad to see you,” she sighed into Harley’s rainbow hair.
“Probably shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that,” Harley admitted, returning Sara’s hug with a full body one of her own. She could feel the tension in Sara’s muscles like it was a living thing, and lifted her hand to stroke at her hair. “Everything okay? Anyone I need to ki-beat up?”
“Not anyone who isn’t already dead,” Sara said. Well, dead, or didn’t exist. Maybe Slade did exist somewhere, but Sara had no way of telling that either way. “If there was, I would be right there with you. But there’s no one around to take my frustration out on, so I guess drinking and dancing until these heels give me blisters is about all I can do.”
“We can dig ‘em up and dismember them then dissolve the body parts in acid and then dump the acid into a toxic waste dump,” Harley suggested, one hundred percent seriously.
She may or may not have made that plan for Blake’s ex if it had ever needed to come to pass. Harley might still do it anyway, it was a temptation. Harley did so like to think of her patients.
“But in lieu of graverobbing, I think I can help with the dancing.”
“You’ve been waiting for an opportunity to use that plan, haven’t you?” Sara teased, though she had to admit that she was a little impressed. It was almost tempting, in a vengeful, never going to happen kind of way.
“You’d better be able to help with more than that,” Sara said, putting her hands on Harley’s hips and backing up, pulling Harley with her, toward the entrance of the bar.
“I’m always up for first degree murder,” Harley assured her. “When the vic deserves it anyway.”
She let herself be led along, admiring the strength in Sara’s grip on her hips while also worrying further about her.
Harley resolved to not only help Sara have a little fun but find the true root of the problem.
Failing that, getting them both in trouble for public indecency would work.
Normally, Sara might have made a joke about being more of a second degree murder kind of girl, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to this time. Not with her dreams going the way they were. After Oliver had tried so hard to protect her from killing people on the island, it was a bit of a punch in the gut to have joined the League of Assassins where she would become a first degree murderer in truth.
She stopped before actually entering the loud club, and pulled Harley off next to the door. The music was loud even coming through the door; it would be next to impossible to actually talk once they were inside. And while a big part of Sara didn’t want to actually talk, she thought she might have to. “Have you ever actually killed anyone?” Sara asked. “In the Dreams, I mean.”
Harley leaned against the wall, pulling Sara in next to her so she didn’t have to speak too loud. But she didn’t hesitate, and her expression didn’t shift from the lazy smile she was wearing. “Yep. At first it was cuz I was workin’ with the joker, but once I got free of him I found, you know, sometimes people deserved it. Helped that I had Red to help me; though her targets were like, captain planet villains and sexist guys. And we didn’t like, go out of our way to kill anyone unless we had to.”
There had once been a time when Sara had thought that there was no need to kill anyone, but her dreams were showing her that that wasn’t the case. There was no doubt in her mind that killing Slade had been the right call, and if she was being honest, the idea of killing sexist creeps and Captain Planet villains didn’t seem like such a bad thing. The problem was, she wasn’t so sure that the people she would be made to kill in the dreams really deserved it. In the Dreams, Oliver had told her that killing a person changed you, but Sara wasn’t really sure if she could get any worse than she already was.
“In the Dreams, I joined the League of Assassins, which is exactly what it sounds like. They’ve been training me,” sometimes brutally; the injuries hadn’t carried over but the scars had, “but I don’t know what I’m going to do once they finally send me out on an assignment.”
“Huh.” Harley tilted her head, then slowly dragged her fingernails along the side of Sara’s neck, very lightly. “There’s a league like that in my dreams. They fight the Bat a lot. I can kinda picture you there, but mostly because you got abs for days.”
Slowly, she pulled Sara in, almost like she was going to kiss her, but didn’t. “Dream you will do what Dream you will do, it’s how ya respond to it here that matters. You ain’t gotta embrace it, just accept it happenin’. Capiche?”
“The Bat?” Sara asked. She didn’t think she had ever heard of any bat, related to the League or not. The corners of her lips twitched up. “Wouldn’t it be something if it turned out we were actually dreaming of the same place.”
She was ready to tell Harley that she would at least try before she leaned in to close the distance, but before she could even start forming the words before someone else decided to cut in. “That’s hot,” a voice called from behind Harley. Sara tilted her head slightly so she could see the douchebag over Harley’s shoulder, wearing a backwards baseball hat, an Obey t-shirt, and a pair of cargo pants because of course he was. “Are you going to kiss or what?”
“Never heard of Batman?” Harley asked, raising her eyebrows. No, not her Black Canary then. Nor was she all that eager to speak words rather than smooth the hot blonde.
She sighed at the man’s voice, and asked. “He’s wearin’ cargo shorts ain’t he.”
Sara frowned to herself. Batman almost sounded familiar; an urban legend that had maybe recently sprung up in her dreams before she’d left on the Queen’s Gambit with Oliver, but not one she had ever put much thought into. There was no way it was real anyway.
“Oh yeah,” Sara said. “And he’s wearing his baseball hat backwards.”
For a moment, the man almost looked self-conscious, but his expression quickly twisted into one of rage. “Oh, whatever, you stuck-up dyke bitches. Go to hell.”
Which was about all Sara needed to start seeing red. She moved to push past Harley, ready to knock his teeth out.
Most people would have held Sara back. But Harley wasn’t most people. Instead, she drew a large revolver out of seeming nowhere and pointed it at the prick’s prick. “Pretty sure mine is bigger’n yours, buddy, so if I was you I’d take it back.”
Her finger stroked the trigger, and there was a wild and crazed look in her eyes, along with a smile to put the Joker to shame.
Sara could probably kick this guys ass, but she knew she didn’t look intimidating, so she knew the look of pure fear that crossed the guys face, and the screams that followed from the others nearby, probably wasn’t directed at her.
“I - I - I’m sorry,” the man stuttered.
Sara looked over her shoulder at Harley and paused. First of all, where the hell had that pistol come from? She thought that she would have noticed it. And second of all, she didn’t entirely trust that look on Harley’s face. Or the fact that someone already had their cellphone out and was apparently calling the police.
She turned, stepping back to Harley, putting her hand on the hand Harley held the pistol with and pushing it down. “Let’s get out of here,” she said quietly, wrapping her fingers around Harely’s hand and pulling her hurriedly toward the back alley.
Harley stared the man down, even as she let Sara pull her away. Only when they were out of sight and hidden in the alley did she turn and glance at Sara. With a huge grin on her face she pointed the gun at a garbage can and pulled the trigger.
A little flag popped out of the barrel, complete with bang in a thick font. “Gotcha!”
From the look on Harley’s face, Sara had been convinced entirely that she’d whipped out a real pistol and was prepared to use it, and Sara wouldn’t have even blamed her if she had. Frankly, the guy had deserved it.
She stared at the flag for a half second as it sank in, and then the tension left Sara’s body completely; it even blew the dreams from her mind. She laughed, harder than she had in a while.
Harley cackled as well, the pistol disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. “Didja see the look on his face? Pretty sure he pissed his pants!”
Making men like that feel impotent was among her favorite things to do. But there was an edge to her; she’d have killed or at least broken his leg if it came to that.
“He won’t be bothering woman again for a while,” Sara agreed. She hoped so, at least. Men like that weren’t terribly bright, but at least they were easily cowed. Sara’s mirthful grin diminished into something a little more mischievous. “But you know,” she said, stepping forward to put her hands on Harley’s hips. “That was pretty hot. Where exactly do you keep that gun of yours?”
“Uh,” Harley said, totally smart and totally cooly, before her grin widened as she stepped into Sara. “That’s one of my super powers! Producin’ weapons at will.”
It was basically hammer space and Harley had accepted she was part cartoon character at this point, since in both the comics she’d read about herself and the cartoon, she tended to pull mallets out of thin air.
“Oh, that is a great superpower,” Sara said, resting her forearms on Harley’s shoulder. “So, are weapons the only thing you can pull from thin air?”
“Uh.” Harley thought for a moment, then whipped out a dildo the size of her arm. “I once broke a guy’s face with this does this count?”
Sara had been trying to go for sexy, and maybe a little bit going for a risque backalley hookup, but when Harley whipped out the dildo, Sara couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I think that counts,” Sara said. “I didn’t know that ‘break a man’s face with a novelty dildo’ was on my list of things I want to do, but hey, there it is.”
Harley tossed it over her shoulder, it bounced off the wall and landed through the window of a parked pick-up truck, perfectly positioned in the driver’s seat to give the owner a shock. Seeming to belatedly catch Sara’s meaning, she purred. “Got a few more like it where that came from.”
Sara was almost more interested in seeing Harley hit someone in the face with a sex toy. Next time some sleazebag made unwanted comments toward them, Sara might gently steer Harley in that direction instead of the gag pistol.
But for now, she was content to match Harley’s purr with one of her own. “Why don’t you show me?” she asked.