Months later, after Harley pawned the diamond, started her own “business” and returned Dinah’s car (not without a different, mismatched bumper, though otherwise it was intact); after Renee quit her job at the GCPD; after Huntress got her family’s money back; after the three of them formed the Birds of Prey; after Cassandra moved in with Harley (who turned out to be a surprisingly fit guardian, despite the clown’s junk food habits and general encouragement of petty crime); months later, after all of that, Dinah and Helena finally relaxed one night in the corner of the warehouse that wasn’t full of workout gear or weapons or not-100%-legal tech.
“Hey, nice job tonight,” Dinah said, grabbing two beers from the fridge that never held any real food, but could always be counted on to have booze, hot sauce, and those disgusting energy drinks Helena liked.
She was referring to the evening’s mission, the details of which were uninteresting, except that Helena had employed a few tricks with her crossbow that left Dinah as impressed as ever.
When Helena didn’t answer, Dinah looked over to where the woman was positioned on the couch, brow furrowed as she stared at her phone.
“Helloo?” Dinah prompted, shutting the fridge door before tossing a bottle at Helena, maybe with a little more force than necessary. Not that it mattered; she caught it without looking up. Stupid assassin reflexes.
“Sorry,” Helena muttered, clearly distracted. “Thanks.”
Dinah plopped down next to her, and cracked her beer with their bird-shaped bottle opener. (Dinah had picked it out, wanting to remain on theme, even though it was a little cheesy. Sue her.) After a beat, she waved the opener in the air. “Earth to Helena. Anyone in there?”
Helena, who was finally paying attention, set down her phone and gave Dinah a small smile.
“Sorry,” she said again, reaching to grab the device from Dinah, who was relieved, because for a while Helena had been using her teeth for such occasions, until they all told her that was gross to witness, and for the love of God to please stop doing it. “The hotel I’m in is shutting down for renovations next week, and I haven’t had a second to find a new place. So I was just looking.”
“Fuck, you haven’t gotten an apartment yet?” Dinah took a swig and gave her a look of disbelief. “I thought you did that ages ago. It’s been, what, months?”
“I know.” Helena sighed, bringing the bottle to her forehead like a cold compress. Her eyelids fluttered shut at the cool sensation, and Dinah tried not to stare, because Helena’s eyelashes were just as nice as the rest of her, which was to say very nice. “I’ve just had a lot going on...we’ve been setting up the base, or out fighting.”
“And now you actually have to find someplace, or else you’ll be camping out in this beautiful, dank abode,” Dinah joked, gesturing around the room.
Helena opened her eyes again. “Actually, that idea also occurred to me. If you guys don’t mind, of course. I could stay here, keep an eye on things after hours.”
Dinah rolled her eyes, because Helena fucking would. Over the past few months -- with the support of the Birds -- the Huntress had made significant progress on many fronts, and now Dinah was proud to call her one her best friends. But once in a while she said or did something ridiculous that proved she was still totally Helena. Which Dinah secretly loved, not that she’d ever say.
“Uh, no. You are not living in this warehouse like some creepy bat. Have you seen anywhere else that looks good?”
“Not really. Though like I said, I haven’t looked much,” Helena admitted. “Renee said it’s a buyer’s market, and that I shouldn’t take the first thing I see. But there’s so many choices, it’s kind of overwhelming.”
Dinah felt a ruffle of annoyance that Helena had sought advice from Renee, and hadn’t even mentioned the situation to Dinah, but then again, Renee was an actual adult and had way more experience with adult life things like home-owning. So she’d let it pass.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment. Then it struck Dinah: Helena could live with her! She hadn’t had a roommate in ages, and it would be nice to have someone to help out with the rent. Sure, Dinah could afford it on her own, but if she and Helena split everything, there’d be more money for fun stuff, like good wine and nicer sheets and cashmere sweaters.
“Hey, why don’t you move into my place?” she suggested, nice and casual, before she could lose her nerve.
Helena choked on the sip she’d just taken. “What?”
Dinah grinned, enjoying the feeling of catching the other woman off guard. “I have the extra bedroom. We’d be, like, roommates.”
“Yes, Princess. In America, when one isn’t rich, one has roommates,” Dinah said, eyes widening to let her know she was being sarcastic. “They share bills and help each other cook and clean.”
“Wait, wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” Helena stuttered. “I know what a roommate is. But…” her expression clouded, “Why would you want me?”
(Oh, if she only knew all the ways in which Dinah wanted her.)
“Because I like you,” Dinah said instead, “And then you don’t need to waste time looking. C’mon, it’ll be fun!”
Helena appeared to be thinking it over. Dinah could practically see the cogs turning in her head. Please say yes, please say yes.
“And you’ll let me pay rent?” Helena asked.
“Duh,” Dinah replied, her thoughts already running future scenarios where she might, you know, accidentally catch the other woman walking around the apartment in various states of undress. “That’s sort of the point.”
Helena nodded. “Okay. I would like to do that,” she said formally. “So let’s do that.”
“Yes!” Dinah squealed, beers sloshing as she gathered her in a hug.
“Don’t do that,” Helena grumbled, and Dinah -- who in all of her excitement failed to notice Helena hiding a pleased smile -- considered herself merciful, so she pulled away after a few seconds.
“To you not being homeless!” she said, and they clinked their bottles together in agreement.