Special thanks to evolution-500 from and stocktonwood on AO3 for helping me become inspired to write and finish writing this story. You were both a huge help! Thank you so much!

Just as a little heads up, I headcannon Greg with a thick accent, so if there're some words he says that seem not quite right, it's that. Hope y'all enjoy!~

..~..~..

It wasn't usual for her to investigate too deeply about a mission she would be embarking on.

Normally, she didn't really plan too many missions, either.

But what she was thinking of doing... the plan she was coming up with... it was much too important to not plan for. This wasn't just a silly little attempt to steal some meaningless diamonds from idiots with too much wealth- this was a serious mission with real repercussions!

"Ah may not be able ta see now, Spot, but Ah can sure hear them gears turnin' and rollin' 'round in yer head."

The amused voice was tinged with just the tiniest hint of curiosity; but Harley still jumped at suddenly hearing it after having been able to work in absolute silence for a good chunk of time.

"Geeze, Greg. Warn a girl, why don't ya?" she chided half-heartedly, "You'll give me a heart attack next time you pop out of nowhere and start talking to me! And you won't like that- I'll haunt you 'til you die if you're the reason I die."

There was a soft, amused chuckle from behind her and when she turned around, she found her new best friend moving into the living room with two cups of freshly brewed coffee in his thick hands. There were some wrinkles to those hands, showing off the true age of the man, and she knew for a fact that there were rough callouses on the insides of them.

Greg Saunders was something unheard of in the superhero world: old.

Well, okay, no, he wasn't super old, but old enough. Like, upwards of the sixties, she believed.

Hmm... now that she thought about it, she'd never asked him what his age was.

Maybe she should ask at some point?

"Believe yuh me, Spot, if yuh were to haunt me for the rest of m'days, your career o' ghostin' wouldn't last very long." his lips formed into a soft little smile that was absolutely adorable on his aged and scarred face.

She didn't know how old the guy was, but that didn't matter. Greg had that quality about him that most would simply call the 'old and cute quality'. Harley struck that down to the fact that he was a rough and tumble looking guy, like, as if an actual cowboy stepped straight from the pages of a historical photograph and lived in the present day... which was, actually, kind of what had happened to the poor guy.

Still, Greg looked like the kind of guy that would be surly, rude, and demand everything and nothing from those around him without ever giving a word of gratitude. But in reality, he was the kind of guy that would offer an arm, leg, or kidney to someone in need.

Harley smiled softly at this thought, all the while Greg made his way to sit down on the couch beside her. He lowered himself onto the cushions slowly, making sure to be mindful of the breakable material of the mugs in his hands, and breathed out a heavy groan once he was safely sat. Afterwards he leaned forward to search for the coffee table, where he set the mugs down with a muffled 'clink' of ceramic on wood.

Greg may have been blind, but he had a bad habit of refusing to change certain parts of his life, even if such a change would make certain tasks easier for himself- case in point, the ceramic mugs instead of ones made of an unbreakable and lightweight material. There were other examples she could think of, but the ceramic mugs was the one that had let her know no amount of pointing out logical changes would get the guy to change his ways... he could be quite the stubborn one, even with all of the kindness within him.

"Yeah, well, you've still got a few decades in ya, buster, and I'll milk 'em for all they're worth." she harrumphed before nudging the laptop in front of her a bit towards the side. "An' if you die before I've had my fill, I'll haunt you in the afterlife too!"

Another mirthful chuckle came from the retired cowboy, and he pushed one of the mugs towards the side, getting it closer to her. Harley thanked him and grabbed at the handle, then turned the mug towards her to look at the design on the mug he had picked out for her.

She had never set foot in Greg's kitchen out of respect for his wishes- he was awfully territorial of the space- and because of this, she didn't know how he always knew which mugs to pick out for her and which ones were his own. But, just like every other time he had brought her coffee, he had given her a goofy little mug. This time, it was one with a caricature of Clint Eastwood's Dirty Harry character asking his famous quote about feeling lucky.

Harley squealed in glee at how absolutely endearing the design was and let Greg know this was up there with the mug that had a lizard with a cowboy hat on it with the phrase 'Yee Claw' under it. Greg huffed out in amusement and told her that she could thank Barry for those western themed novelties.

"Barry... Barry..." she murmured to herself, the nail of her pointer finger clinking against the colorful ceramic of her coffee mug as she wracked her brain for a memory of the familiar sounding name.

Greg scooped up his simple white mug and took a sip of his coffee as he allowed her to think in peace and quiet.

The flat screen television mounted on the wall directly in front of them had yet to be turned on- probably, Greg was in the mood for easy conversion at the moment. Normally he didn't mind having the TV on with some inconsequential program playing as background noise, but it wasn't the easiest exercise for him to divide his auditory senses between two different things at the same time.

Harley pursed her lips as she tried her best to remember why the name Barry seemed to mean something.

She heard Greg sip at his coffee a second time and she gasped, "Oh! That Barry Allen character, right? He's the one with the huge appetite and the 'lack of social grace'!" even though she knew that he wouldn't be able to see it, she still crooked her fingers to signify that she was definitely quoting something he had said in the past.

When she looked up at him from her spot seated on the ground between the sofa and the coffee table, she found Greg smiling subtly. "Oh, now I never said that."

Her lips moved somewhat to the side, beginning to purse, and she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes- yeah, Greg couldn't really see her reaction of being unimpressed, but that didn't mean it was right to make it. The guy deserved her respect! And it wouldn't hurt her to give it to him, even when she knew he couldn't see her acting a fool.

"Sure, grampa." now she waved her right hand at him before moving to grab her mug and take a drink from her coffee. It was sweet, made with the almond milk Greg called an insult to milk, and topped with whipped cream, cinnamon, and sprinkles. "This is a good cup o' Joe!"

Seriously, she had never even been able to look at Greg's kitchen, so she had no idea how it was set up in such a precise manner to allow him to create a complicated creation like this coffee. She just knew that she was grateful that he considered her important enough to go through the trouble of making such a thing... she had gotten real lucky when she met the guy at her darkest hour.

"So, when're yuh going to tell me what's been eating at ya?"

Harley hissed at the question, but soon sighed heavily. "It's a surprise that I'm working on for you! You gotta be patient."

Greg hummed now, a melodious sound that was almost good enough to warrant the man breaking out into song to show off the true depth of his pipes and abilities. But he, unfortunately, didn't do such a thing. Instead he settled back into the couch and took another drink of his coffee before asking her to fetch the morning paper for him- what new insanity had hit the world today?


The internet was vast. It was a great tool for searching up the kind of information that wasn't readily available in the boring old, regular world; normally, it was the kind of place to search up quick how-to's to help in the day-to-day life- much like how to pick a lock, all those years ago... ah, that was one of her favorite videos to rewatch... it never hurt to touch-up her knowledge on proper etiquette to breaking into a place, after all.

But today, the internet was helping her out in a way she never would have expected- it was helping her plan something for someone that wasn't herself.

Truly wild.

If anyone a year ago had told her she would be searching up information on how to take a visually impaired individual to a movie theater and make it a pleasant experience, Harley would have probably broken their arms to expedite their hospitalization for early on-set dementia.

But, really, Harley a year ago was a far-cry from who she was today. And she was woman enough to admit that the Justice League had played an important role in this; even though Greg Saunders had been the one to truly stick by her and aid her in her rehabilitation.

And that was quite a funny thing, in all honesty, because she hadn't known he had once been the crime-fighter known as Vigilante in days long past; she'd first met him as an aged sweetheart. It had been a few months into their friendship that she had found out that he was well connected with the Justice League.

Too well connected if someone were to ask her... Greggy-Boy was much too good for the spandex-loving, gaudy cape-wearing, overbearingly pompous losers that crawled around the Hall of Dweebs.

Greg had been a good influence in her life. He had really helped her out a lot... so... she wanted to do something nice for him.

Because she wasn't all that accustomed to not being a criminal, she hadn't really managed to think up of too many ways that she could do something for him that didn't consist of some kind of illegal activity. But this idea she now had was one she knew wouldn't require her to break any laws- so already it was the best idea she'd come up with!

Greggy-Boy may not be too insistent on her keeping on the straight and narrow path, but she didn't want to disappoint him. He had believed in her when no one else would have; he had given her a safe place to stay and had never asked anything of her in return. This was absolutely the least she could do for the guy.

It had been kind of stupid how long it had taken her to figure out exactly how well the internet could serve her in coming up with a plan that would show Greg, once and for all, how much she cared about him, how grateful she was for his continued existence, and how strongly she wanted him to experience the things he loved back when he had still had the ability to see.

Just as she finished reading the most important line in the whole website- the one that talked all about how communication was key to making a possibly uncomfortable experience as comfortable and enjoyable as possible-, she heard the telltale sounds of Greg's loud pickup truck pulling into the front of the house.

The sound first brought a smile to her face because the rumbling of the engine foretold of the eventual arrival of the man of the house himself; but then a frown melted onto her lips because she knew that Greg wouldn't be alone.

Those dumb Leaguers... she could drive Greg to his medical appointments! Sure, she might run into some issues if anyone recognized her, but it's not like pale skin wasn't easy to integrate into an elaborate goth disguise! She knew how to make up her face and wear a wig! And, most importantly, she knew how to lay low when necessary.

But no. She wasn't allowed to step out of the Saunders Ranch without 'proper supervision'.

Which was, now that she thought about it, going to throw a huge wrench into her plans… if she couldn't leave without superidiot supervision, she wouldn't be able to even Greg out of the house to get him to his surprise!

Her eyes went wide at this revelation at the same time her mouth gaped open.

What was she going to do if she couldn't get Greg out?! Was she supposed to try and work something out with the superidiots, even though she knew very well that they still didn't trust her to not go off and steal the next shiny thing she saw, even though she knew she wouldn't because Greg would somehow know what she'd done no matter how well she covered it up and she was not looking forward to dealing with his 'Not angry, just incredibly disappointed' sigh!

Oh no.

Her whole body curled up into itself, her knees going up to her chest while her hands flew up to the grab at the sides of top of her head.

Oh no.

Her top teeth began to bite into the inside of her bottom lip, and she couldn't help but rock slowly from side to side.

She was going to have to ask for the help of one of the superidiots to be able to get Greg out, get him to his surprise, and not be sent to Belle Reve Penitentiary because she broke the Number one condition she had been given to rehabilitating in Greg's care, wasn't she?

When she heard the heavy wooden door's thick metallic lock jingle-jangle, followed up by the telltale clicking of metal that always happened when the handle was pushed down, Harley knew she needed to move quickly if she wanted to hide all evidence of what she wanted to do.

Even though she might need to get help and permission from the superidiots, she sure as hell wouldn't be asking Martian Manhunter for his help. No, she'd much rather wait to get in touch with that Black Canary wannabe psychologist- pah, if that woman wasn't actively trying to help her, even with all the ignorance, Harley would actually ask for a new shrink. Either she'd be willing to help her out or, at least, direct her in the way of one of those less strict capes that'd be willing to help.

"Spot, we're back!" Greg called as his spurs chimed against the wooden planks beneath him, "An' Ah convinced John ta stop an' buy some of them rainbow pastries yuh like."

Greg's kindness could bring a tear to a girl's eyes.

"You didn't have to!" she called as she quickly turned her computer off, slammed it shut, and hid it beneath the couch cushions before she jumped up and made a show of turning off the television.

The volume hadn't been too loud, nor had it been too low- just the perfect range for those two to hear it from the front door and assume she had been watching television this whole time.

"Mr. Saunders was insistent on getting them." Martian Manhunter, dressed up in the skin of a young man that could have easily passed as Greg's grandchild, appeared in the doorway into the living room without a single noise to give away his movements.

Harley offered a broad smile to him, even as she felt her eyes tighten with a tension she could not ignore at the coldness of the stare sent her way.

The Martian and Wonder Woman were usually always the ones that was sent to take Greg to and from the doctor's appointments that dealt with the head injury that had caused his blindness; always the only ones to step inside Greg's house and show their faces to her. Other, supposedly civilian ranked members of the League, took him to other appointments, but she hadn't really seen any of them because they stayed outside at all time. She had only just heard about Barry's love for too much food, Ollie's 'communist' ideals, and tasted Clark's mother's delicious raspberry pie.

She was pretty sure that if she put her mind to it, she'd be able to get a good look at them and possibly match a face to a mask or cape… but that was too much hard work and definitely not work the risk of getting caught and thrown into prison… which was supposed to happen if she ever attempted to figure out any Leaguer's secret identities.

Again, if she was focused on going back to her evil ways, the League giving her this way in was just asking for her to destroy them from inside-out… but she wasn't. And, therefore, she wouldn't.

"C'mon, John, we've been over this already." Greg sauntered in with a sedate pace and an amused crinkle to his whole, adorably wrinkled face. His pure white hair was hidden away beneath his supposedly expertly maintained, old-enough-to-be-an-archaeological-artifact hat. "The name's Greg. Although Ah do accept bein' called Gramps ever since a certain lil' lady insisted the title fits."

"I would not wish to appear disrespectful." Slowly, the martian's skin morphed from a healthy-for-a-human tan back to its natural dark green color, his whole appearance shifting back into the alien superhero Harley had come to hate and only recently mildly feel less passionate about.

"Yuh'd never."

The martian's eyes never left Harley's own, even when Greg was clearly trying to pull him into some kind of conversation.

Harley offered a quick smile, hoped the jerk wasn't rummaging around in her head because he had promised he wouldn't do that, and jumped towards Greg. She asked him about the box in his hands and if he could truly take John's word; was he sure the guy with the large stick up his ass was capable of buying the kind of sweets she thrived on?

Greg chuckled, scolded her halfheartedly over being so distrustful of a good man, and then offered the box up to her so she could look at the colorfully decorated donuts he had bought just for her.

His blood-sugar could get a bit too high sometimes and the docs had told him it'd be for the best to avoid treats whenever possible… a true shame.

If the martian thought there was anything off with her; if he suspected that she was up to something that was no good that might put Greg, the League, or anyone else into any kind of danger; if he believed there was due reason to pull her away from the aged cowboy and questioned what she was up to… then the guy kept it to himself.

For the next hour, he remained seated quietly at the edge of the kitchen table while Harley asked Greg about what had happened during the whole day he had been away, and Greg answered all of her questions with clear mirth in his tone of voice.


Harley decided to just bite the bullet and ask Black Canary for the proper kind of help she knew she needed to ask for because, in this one particular situation, she knew that asking for forgiveness rather than permission would not be worth the satisfaction of taking Greg with her and telling no one about it.

For the first few seconds, the blonde wannabe-shrink had stared at her. Her face hadn't been one of blatant surprise, but there had been the most marginal arching of her eyebrows that let Harley know she had not been expecting for her to ask for what she had asked for.

For a good five seconds, her eyes had lost all hints of softness and grown harsh, becoming only a bit narrowed as distrust took over her face.

And, finally, slowly, that look of clear contempt turned into a small smile.

The woman even closed her eyes- giving Harley an opening to do something real stupid- as she nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

Afterwards, it had been Harley that had been left feeling unright, confused, and ever so slightly disbelieving.

Within a week, she received a call from her ancient handheld- like, so old it couldn't even be properly called a cellphone and could barely hold a phone call for more than a few minutes. She had expected either the Bat's gruff, no-nonsense growl to instruct her about the proper procedure to exit Greg's house, she was finally under proper arrest or Black Canary's smooth, somewhat melodic voice informing her that she would need to meet with her again before she could help her out with her plan.

She had not expected to hear a new voice she wasn't sure if she had heard before, lighthearted and excited, telling her that the Barry Allen character Greg had told her about before was willing to help her with anything she might be planning to do as long as she promised that nothing illegal would take place and they'd be able to get some pizza after the show.

Her first reaction was to ask who Barry Allen was that he had been able to get a phone number the Bat had supposedly created specifically to keep her free from contact from the outside world and could only be contacted by cleared members of the League. The guy had said that Black Canary had worked everything out and she had been behaving so well recently and reacting well to their help that they were willing to trust her this once- heck, if everything worked out, maybe she'd be able to get out more too and wouldn't that be a good thing!

The guy had said heck instead of the much more appropriate hell and Harley had found her back molar begin to ache at the sweetness of the guy's words.

Her second reaction was to ask to speak with Black Canary because she wanted her to tell her this was all allowed- she wasn't about to fall for an evil trick meant to give the League an excuse to throw her into jail, lock her up, and chuck away the key.

From the way he spoke, how quick, happy, and unbothered he sounded, Harley imagined Barry to have blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, and live in a van. Maybe he didn't have a stereotypical surfer accent, but maybe he was a surfer. With long hair. Maybe in a man-bun.

She shuddered at the thought.

With a dismissive chuckle, Barry told her that Canary would be calling her in a few days, but he had wanted to get into contact with her as soon as possible to be able to plan this quickly to ensure that Greg would be able to go to the surprise she had been planning before it was taken out of theaters.

It was at that point that Harley remembered that movie showings were limited to a specific amount of time and the movie she had wanted to surprise Greg with had already been in theaters for a month now.

She quickly agreed to going with Barry, told him to call her tomorrow at the same time, and she'd have more information for him. She had hung up before she had to hear a dopey farewell because she was not in the mood to acquire any more cavities. Greg was sweet enough to become sickly at times; she did not need another guy in her life that did the same thing.


Barry was, in fact, a blonde. But he had short hair, dressed only mildly like a dork, and had a smile so bright that it definitely gave the sun some competition.

His bright blue eyes explored the front of Greg's house with childlike amazement, taking in all of the decorations that definitely gave the place the quality that one could define as 'stepping into another era'.

Harley was particularly proud of the movie posters she had managed to save from storage, clean up, and frame. Greg had a lot of information on woodworking, surprisingly enough, aside from all of the other practical house-keeping stuff he had surprised her with when he had first allowed her to move in… back before the League had found out she was there and ruined almost everything… oh, how she longed to go back to those peaceful days…

"Is that really Greg?" Barry's gasp sounded earnest enough as he stared at Harley's particular favorite, one that had Greg walking down an empty desert with a beautiful pinto horse following at his side and a guitar strapped across his back. "I've never seen any of his movies."

"It is." Harley finished fussing with the wig she had placed over her head- a perfectly basic brown one that definitely helped her lose some of the things that made her stick out so much in a crowd. "Really? I've seen 'em all at this point."

It wasn't like there were that many, after all. Midnight Rodeo: The Ballad of the Prairie Troubadour was the best of the only four movies Greg had ever made; the only one he had been the central figure of.

"Nope. He doesn't talk much about them." Barry said as if that was an explanation for not having seen some of the finest cowboy-themed movies old age Hollywood had ever made. She scoffed at the absurdity of the thought; but he just turned to look over at her with a sedate look on his face. "You ready?"

She pursed her lips as she took a moment to glance down at her simple pair of jeans, hand-me-down cowboy boots, and unassuming long-sleeved shirt that did a good enough job of obscuring her overall shape.

She knew the disguise was for a good reason… but she still missed being able to wear whatever she wanted; not what she needed.

"As ready as I'll ever be." She admitted in a sigh. "We'll be back before Greg gets back, right?" she wanted to make sure; if she didn't, he'd know there was something up.

"Yup. Ollie's going to keep him busy for as long as it takes for us to get back." Now he smiled, a kind, reassuring thing, and offered, "It'll just be a quick trip into town and into the movie theater. It won't take us too long."

Harley breathed in, held it, and breathed out heavily before nodding. "Okay. Let's go."

Barry crossed the space of the receiving area towards the front door, opened it up, and motioned for her to go ahead. Harley moved along and stepped into the bright Wyoming sun, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air, observe the beautiful green that surrounded the ranch house, and then pointed a finger at Greg's reliable truck. She turned back to look at Barry, only to find him locking up the house behind himself. When he turned and found her pointing at the truck, he smiled and nodded slowly.

The more time she spent around the guy, the less she believed that he was just one of the crew members of the Watchtower that helped maintain it. His nerves were much too invisible for him to not have spent some time around superpowered dangers before. Sure, she was just a really awesome, incredibly skilled, overwhelmingly intelligent human, but she had still been labeled as a supervillain for a good chunk of her life.

There was more to Barry Allen's story than just some guy that worked for the League.

But, she reminded herself, that wasn't her problem. And she needed to stop herself from trying to figure anything out if she wanted to keep the League thinking she truly was getting better and leaving behind her villainous ways.

When she was forced to listen to Barry's horrible attempts at crooning like Greg did in the only album he had managed to record before he had disappeared from his original home, Harley decided that Barry wasn't someone she wanted to be around for long enough to become dangerously curious about.

She also made a mental note to not put on Greg's record when in a cramped environment with the man-bun-less guy that gave her serious surfer vibes.


Today was the day.

Barry had not been able to come over and Harley had almost freaked out when instead of him, she had been called by Diana Freaking Prince to inform her that the plan would stay the same, even if the Leaguer that would be watching over them was different.

Wonder Woman was one of the few superheroes that was open about her actual identity outside of her costume; Harley considered her to be kind of an idiot for it, even if she could respect the decision. She had no idea what the Amazonian did in the world that was so important, but, heck, being recognized as a super important superhero undoubtedly helped her out.

The thing was, if the League wanted her to maintain a low profile while she was out in the real world, Barry had been a good choice to send with her because he looked normal. An incredibly tall and muscular Amazonian, though, who may or may not be known by the people within the town they'd be heading into, though, most certainly did not.

If anything went wrong and they were attacked, she was one hundred percent going to blame the League, pull Greg out of harms way, and eat some popcorn while she watched Wonder Woman either get dunked on or dunk those that dared ruin their night out.

Still, nothing; absolutely nothing; short of Greg himself saying he didn't want to go out was going to prevent her from taking that aged cowboy out on the town and have the fun he most certainly deserved.

Diana was more punctual than Barry had been, which certainly was a feat because it hadn't been like Barry had arrived late when they had gotten together to scout out the movie theater. But the tall woman appeared at Greg's door ten whole minutes before the time Barry and she had decided would be a good meet-up time to head into town with little fuss or rush.

Unlike Barry, she had been in Greg's house before, so she wasn't awestruck by all of the decorations that alluded to a life well lived. She just walked in, passing by Harley with a quick greeting, and made her way in the direction of where all of the old-timey music was coming from- Greg's room.

Harley hadn't told him exactly what they would be doing. Even though she had told him that it was a surprise and he needed to get ready to head out for a few hours, she had also let him know that if he ever felt uncomfortable at any point, she needed him to tell her because they would stop, no matter how excited she was about her surprise.

The article she had found that she considered to be the utmost best one out of all the ones she read during her travels through the interwebs had been one that had discussed the possible reasons why someone blind would feel uncomfortable heading into a movie theater- especially after having been able to watch movies previously. It had been very clear about how taking someone that couldn't see anymore to these kinds of places might accidentally make them sad or, even if they were mostly independent in their lives, powerless. So it was important to communicate at all times.

Greg had found it odd that she had been so insistent on communication, but Harley wasn't some careless idiot anymore and she cared so much about Greg that she was willing to never watch another cowboy movie again if he asked her to; not taking him to the movies would be the least she could do to pay him after all of the good he'd brought into her life.

"Gregory." Diana- or was she Wonder Woman, even if she was dressed in plain civilian clothes that attempted to emulate clothes regularly worn in the fine state of Wyoming? Huh. Something to think about.

Blinking back into reality, Harley noted how the door into Greg's room was wide open, Nancy Sinatra was playing around them, and the man himself was dressed up in a fine set of clothes that definitely struck out as the kind worn to go out, rather than to walk around on a regular day. He had a lot of love for button-up, blue shirts.

"Princess Diana." He retorted with a quick smile, his left eyebrow drooping quickly in a movement that denoted that he had winked from behind his thick sunglasses. "It's great ta see yuh again."

"As it is always a treat to see you."

Harley didn't really point out how Greg still spoke as if he could still… y'know… see. She wasn't sure how that might turn out and she wasn't eager to hurt the man by speaking things that didn't need to be spoken out loud.

"So, Spot's recruited one of the big guns fer our lil' ole outin', huh?"

From her spot out in the hallway, a few feet behind Diana- yup, she'd just call her that, it'd be faster than Wonder Woman, after all-, Harley saw Greg make his way towards the hatrack he had on the wall directly beside his door. He spent a few seconds there, then swiftly placed a handsome white hat, reminiscent to what he had worn in another life during his days of crime fighting, on top of his finely slicked back hair.

The smile was heard in Diana's voice as she answered with, "I am interested in accompanying you both to the surprise she has planned. I have yet to experience the kind of…" the woman drifted off for a bit and Harley shot daggers at her back with her eyes- if she let anything slip before they arrived, there would be hell to pay. "Activity," she settled on eventually, "Harley has planned for you tonight."

Greg chuckled as he finally stepped out of the room, motioning with his hand for Diana to walk ahead in front of him. Harley watched her town around, narrowed her eyes dangerously, and was pleased to find the woman look mildly ashamed of how she may or may not have just put the whole surprise in jeopardy.

"Well, now Ah'm even more excited ta get a move on." Diana walked past her, but Greg stopped a few steps away from her with his face in her direction. "Don't wanna be late now do we, Spot?"

How the guy always just knew where she was would have been creepy if he wasn't nearly as saintly as he was. But Harley just allowed a smile to come over her and nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her; but sometimes it felt like he could because he just seemed to know so much.

"Let's go!" she moved to plaster herself to his side, crossing their arms together so she could begin pulling him down the hallway and towards the front door. "We do not wanna be late, Gramps."

He chuckled, a comfortable, delighted sound that wasn't tired enough to make her even wonder if he hated the nickname as much as he had once tried to tell her. But he moved quickly, keeping pace with her perfectly.


Behind Greg's sunglasses, Harley believed she would find bright green eyes that were widened, clearly surprised by what she had just informed him of.

Diana was standing off to the side, closer to the ticket booth than the spot they were standing in, to give them some privacy.

Harley had waited until right now to tell Greg that they would be heading into a movie theater to watch the newest cowboy movie to hit Hollywood- one that seemed to be truly trying to encapsulate the most important facets of old singing cowboy movies with a little less problematic and racist undertones. Supposedly, the main character was even based on Vernon 'Steel' Rhodes, Midnight Rodeo's main character.

Seconds ticked by in disheartening silence, a few passersby walking past them down the sidewalk to either head into the ticket booth and into the theater or down to some other shop further down the road.

Biting into her bottom lip, Harley began to fiddle with her fingers and blink quickly down at the boots on her feet.

Greg hadn't told her where they had come from. He had just told her that it'd do better for her to wear them than for them to stay hidden away, collecting dust.

"If ya don't want to, we can head out and get some food instead." She blurted out after much too long had passed with Greg just staring at her without saying anything.

Even a reprimand for having sprung this up on him would have been much better than all of this silence.

Silence settled between them for five whole seconds.

And then she heard Greg whistle loudly, causing her head to snap up to gawk at the guy for reacting like that. Out of all of the reactions she may have expected… this certainly had not been one.

"Whoo-wee, Spot, yuh certainly are something else!" with a broad smile, Greg planted both of his hands on his hips, shook his head softly, and continued jovially, "The big surprise yuh've spent all these weeks worryin' over was somethin' for me?"

Harley's eyes were just as wide as what she had imagined Greg's had been only a few seconds ago. Even though it took her a bit to react, eventually she rushed out, "Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I? You're awesome and I wanted to do somethin' for ya and I wanted everything to be perfect but then I had to be careful with those stupid capes and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable because you don't even seem to like television and-" she stopped herself quickly, breathing in, and deflated. "You're awesome, okay?"

"Oh, come on now," Greg's hands slowly came to rest on her shoulders, heavy and warm. "The big surprise could've been somethin' as simple as yuh takin' me ta buy a new hat an' I would've counted it as perfect." Harley felt appalled by the possibility because this guy deserved the moon, but he continued before she could cut in. "Spot, yuh know what makes this kind of surprise count as perfect?"

Harley pursed her lips, thought about the answer for a moment, and glanced up to find Greg smiling warmly at her in a way she had never seen before. It wasn't a bright, joyous smile; just like it wasn't a sedate, barely there smile. It was… kind of indescribable, actually, why the smile felt different… it just did.

"What?" she squeaked, because now that she was thinking about it, she really had twisted herself up into a knot over this whole thing… but for a good reason!

"It's the care yuh put into it." He explained, voice soft and a croon reminiscent to how he had once sung. "An' from how yuh managed ta rope even Diana Prince herself into this, Ah've got reason ta believe yuh put in quite a bit o' care."

Her eyes weren't burning with tears.

That was just the fading sunlight bothering her.

Yup.

It's not like hearing these overly gushy, stupidly emotional words from Greg Saunders caused her to feel something.

Nope.

Not at all.

"Now," his hands pushed at her shoulders so she could straighten up and Harley wondered how he always seemed to know things that she'd usually notice by seeing. "Why don't we buy our tickets, get that contraption that's s'pposed ta help me experience this new movie o' yours, an' get ourselves a big tub o' that popcorn Ah've heard's so damn good?"

Once he had finished speaking, he moved so one arm was wrapped over her shoulders and Harley leaned into him for just a bit in a not-quite hug, taking note of the spicy perfume he was wearing that she was very sure she had mentioned might be good for him when he'd been thinking about getting a new one.

Scratch that; Greg didn't just deserve the moon. He deserved all of existence. He was a saint that the church was sleeping on; she needed to see about getting him sanctified at some point.

Even as she led them towards Diana, Greg kept his arm around her, and Harley didn't find any reason within her to pull away from the embrace. Greg wasn't really the kind to initiate physical contact, after all. And this didn't feel half-bad.

Diana greeted them with a warm smile, offered Greg the instrument Barry and her had been taught how to use to help Greg out as much as possible, and then they made their way into the movie theater to hopefully enjoy a good modern-age western.

~..~..~

And that's the fic! Hope y'all liked it!

I've got some ideas for subsequent one-shots to take place in this little universe with Harley and Greg's friendship as the main focus, but for now, I'm going to mark this story as complete because I do not want to promise to write more and not deliver; instead I'll promise the possibility, even if there's a huge chance that this'll stay as it is and get no continuation.

(Just as some quick backstory, I headcannon Greg to be a man out of time that's suffered this fate twice; he was born at a time that he was eventually able to become a singer and an actor in the age where cowboy movies were real in with Hollywood, but lost his career when he was thrust out of time initially and landed in actual cowboy times. After a life spent there, he was eventually fished out by the League [kind of like what happened with Starman {is that the name?} in the comics with the Seven Soldiers. This version of him has spent some time in the present but suffered a serious injury that left him blind in both eyes; and because he has no actual family around but helped save the world so many times, the League takes care of him.

Harley's story is run of the mill for her, imo. I took most of my inspiration from her in the Harley Quinn cartoon show, the only real difference being that when she and Joker broke up for good, she stumbled into the kind Greg Saunders that took her in without even worrying about how dangerous she may or may not be.)

Let me know your thoughts if you'd like! It's always nice to know what others thought of what I wrote.