CHAPTER 7
THE BED TROPE
THE ringing felt like it went on for hours.
It went to voicemail after Iris waited for at least two minutes. She breathed in deeply, trying to gain some kind of oxygen back into her lungs, and pressed call again. She bit down on the edge of her thumbnail and brought the phone up to her ear. Every breath felt like she was working overtime. Her hands ached, creating an intense throb right in the center of her palm.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Pick up, goddammit!" She whispered loudly, biting her nail down more and more.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep –
"Uh – hello?"
Iris shrieked the second Dick's voice wafted through her speaker. It sounded groggy and disoriented. Kind of cute, if she were being honest. (Stop that! Her conscious groaned.) She clutched the phone even tighter, pressing it to her ear with both hands, attempting to not cry out in pain from the burning that was scorching through her fingers.
"Who is this?" He asked, grumbling low under his breath.
"Dick. It's Iris," she replied as quickly as she could. "Iris Kingsley. From the station."
She heard a loud thud on the other end. Iris raised a brow. "Dick?"
"Yeah, yeah! It's me. I'm here." His words were rushed, struggling for a release. "I just – uh – I didn't expect your call. Especially, at –"
"Midnight. Yeah, I realize that." Iris looked up to her ceiling. The lights were reflecting off the chipping, white paint, creating bright circles around the room. She huffed softly and closed her eyes. "I know this is ... very strange."
Dick laughed. The sound was weirdly calming. "You think?"
She brought one hand down and rested it on her knee. While balling her hand into a fist, she realized the light never flickered. Iris bit her lip. "I think I need your help."
More stirring echoed through the speaker. Dick cleared his throat, "Is everything okay?"
"Define, okay ..." She trailed off, allowing her stare to linger on the light just a bit too long. After a moment, she looked away, blinking her eyes rapidly. "Listen, in most situations, I would definitely not be calling my coworker about a problem at midnight, but I fear you're my best option at the moment."
"Alright," he said, exhaling heavily, "what's the problem?"
Iris unclenched her hand once again. "Well," she cleared her throat, "you see –"
"Yes –"
"My hands are kind of ..." She paused. "... Lighting up."
Dead air rang through her ears. The silence was deafening, swallowing her whole.
"Are you fucking with me right now?"
"Never would I ever," she quipped, narrowing her eyes at his response. "Why would I lie about something like this?"
Dick snickered, "Because you dislike me, and I'm not too fond of you either at the moment."
"Okay, listen here, you little dipshit," she seethed, "I did not sign up for a terrible night like this. The fucking necklace that I got from St. Anne's suddenly won't come off, and now my hands have blue lights blasting out of them. I called you because – for some goddamn reason – I assumed you could help. But no, I guess not. I guess I'll just be called a liar and –"
"Wait," he interrupted, causing her to stop abruptly, "did you say your necklace won't come off?"
Her nostrils flared. "I'm not repeating myself!"
Silence again. All Iris could hear was the sound of her own heavy breathing. She swallowed hard, holding the phone tightly again. "Dick?" She whispered. "Are you still there?"
"Yeah, yeah," he answered swiftly. Noises echoed through her speaker, sounding like he was in a haste. "I'm just thinking."
"Well," Iris continued, "do you believe me?"
She could hear Dick locking a door on the other end. Her heart raced in her chest as he replied, "I'll be there in fifteen. Text me your address."
•••
Iris wasn't really keen on being told what to do, but when Dick Grayson immediately requested her location as he rushed over, she didn't think twice. She never once had a coworker over her house, nor had she ever wanted to either, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
She sat on her bathroom floor, knees to her chest, and did her best to focus on anything but the burning coursing through her system. Her phone sat idly on the floor as she waited for an arrival text from him. She balled her hands into fists, but strobes of blue light slipped through the cracks.
Iris couldn't believe she had gotten to this point. She hated asking for help. She never needed it. Ever since she moved to Detroit, Iris learned to do things on her own and do them great. But clearly, that doesn't last forever, and here she was, rocking back and forth on her bathroom floor with lights coming through her hands, while waiting for her coworker to help her do God knows what.
Her phone vibrated. She leaned forward to read the incoming text.
DICK GRAYSON: I'm here.
Iris refused to move from her spot, too afraid of what the lights would do if she even stepped away. She had no idea how to control them, or what they could do. Biting down on her bottom lip, she texted a response.
IRIS KINGSLEY: I'm in Apartment 43. Spare key is underneath the dead flower pot. Idk if I can move from the bathroom.
Minutes later, she heard the lock to her front door click, and then the squeak of rusted bolts turning as someone walked through. Iris looked up from her curled position, keeping her arms locked around knees, which were still pressing against her tight chest. She swallowed hard while listening to a pair of boots stomp through her tiny apartment, and for a split second, Iris wondered if it was someone other than Dick Grayson. Her anxiety sparked, causing the lights to pinch and pulse so painfully that her hands snapped open, unable to keep it at bay.
She screamed at the raw power running through her veins. The lights beat against the cracked ceiling, and her heartbeat raced even more than before. She didn't even notice that her necklace had been beating in and out with a bright, turquoise color, until she felt the weight of the stone against her rib cage.
Dick stopped short in front of the bathroom entrance, finding her curled up on the floor in front of the sink. Iris slowly turned to meet his eyes. She was almost scared to look. She didn't want to find pity or disgust in them. Instead, Dick remained straight-faced. His lips parted slightly when he took in the vivid strobe igniting through the base of her palm. But still, it looked like this wasn't new to him.
"It won't stop," she said through clenched teeth. Her eye twitched slightly. "I don't know what to do!"
Dick wiped a sheen of sweat off his brow. "Okay, um –" He scrambled to the floor, kneeling on her left side, while she stared at him with narrowed eyes. He laid out his hands, palms facing up. "Turn to face me."
Iris bit down on her bottom lip, but eventually scooted in front of him. Her whole body shook the floor.
"Put your hands on top of mine."
"I'm not holding your hand, Dick."
His mouth formed into a tight frown. "Again, heard it before. Just take my hands."
With a loud sigh, Iris brought forth her glowing hands, allowing the ringing in her ears to drown out her racing heartbeat. She didn't have any other options now. It was time to listen. Iris swallowed hard once the lights hit the base of Dick's palm. She watched him wince the closer her palms got to his, but he learned to control his expression once their skins met, and everything felt a little more right in the world.
Dick dragged his tongue across his bottom lip. Iris watched him with the utmost intensity, noticing his face contort with perplexity. After a long moment, Dick curled his two thumbs over her grip, softly caressing the sides of her hands. Iris suddenly felt the need to move away, before it was too late. She was always too late.
"Breathe in and out," he instructed.
Iris knitted her brow together. "That's how you expect to solve this fucking problem?! Breathing exercises?"
He met her eyes. "Can you just do it, please?!"
"Fine," she huffed, finally closing her eyes.
Iris felt the anxiety swell in her chest the longer Dick held on. She hesitated before finally taking in a long breath and then letting it slowly release from her lips. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Dick say, "Keep doing that. Hold onto me still." And she did. Iris breathed in and out for several minutes – gripping Dick's hands tighter, feeling her heartbeat slow down. The pain within her palm dulled, and soon, she hardly felt anything at all. The necklace no longer felt like a heavy brick laying on her chest.
"You did it."
She opened her eyes, taking in Dick's caramel irises, full of wonder and amazement. Removing her hands from his, Iris blinked when she realized he was right: her hands had stopped glowing. There was no more pain. Her whole body had calmed down from its high. But that still left one problem.
Iris reached around the back of her neck and felt for the clasp. Nothing.
Goddammit.
Dick bit the inside of his cheek, watching as she flexed her fingers, before reaching out again and examining her hand. Iris didn't have the strength to pull away. His thumbs pressed against her palm, but nothing happened. He viewed up with curiosity. "You wanna tell me what happened?"
"I already told you over the phone," she replied, slipping her hand away. "Did you still not believe me?"
"No, no, I just –" He ran a hand through his short hair. "I didn't know what to expect."
Iris turned her head, licking her lips as she tried to look at anything but him. She watched the faucet drip every two seconds. "I ..." Her hand instinctively went to the necklace, and she wrapped her hand around the pendant. It was warm to the touch. "I think it has something to do with this."
Her eyes flickered to his again, and just like that, her hand fell onto her lap, inviting his own to grasp the turquoise stone. Dick furrowed his brow while running his thumb along the base of the pendant. He felt nothing. The tiny flecks of gold and silver illuminated under his touch, but it was hardly noticeable with the dim bathroom lighting.
"We're going to have to look into this," he said, dropping the stone back onto her chest. Dick tried to ignore the sudden spark of electricity in his veins when their skin connected.
Iris tilted her head. "We?"
"Yes, we. Working together now, remember?" He clarified, getting to his feet and laying his hand out for her to take. "Chief's orders."
She rolled her eyes, swallowing down the defiant remark that was about to rise in her throat. After a moment of contemplation, Iris allowed him to help her up, and she, too, quietly ignored the electricity that so badly wanted to be released from their hands touching. She slipped out of his grip immediately.
Dick rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well ..." He huffed, lifting his head to stare at the old light on the ceiling, constantly flickering in and out. "It's late. I'll see you at the station tomorrow, and we can take some time to research this together. There has to be a reason for ..." He shook his head. "Whatever that was."
She watched him turn on his heel. Dick looked over at her from over his shoulder and sent her a tiny wave. "I'll show myself out," he said, boots clicking against her old hardwood floors. Iris didn't know why, but she followed him, just a few steps behind. His hand was on the knob of the front door, and she hesitated by the arch to her bedroom. Iris opened her mouth, unaware of what was going to come out.
"Hey, Dick," she muttered, teetering back and forth on her toes, "can you – um –" Her lips wobbled. Iris wanted them to stop, but the desire and vulnerability inside of her were more powerful, and nothing could hold it back. "Can you stay tonight?"
His face twisted with confusion as he turned back to her. This had to be a joke. "I thought you did things solo," he replied, a side of his mouth turning up.
"I do," Iris huffed, stepping forward just slightly. She looked to her feet. "But when your hands start to randomly light up, things get kind of complicated, you know?"
Dick laughed. Iris lifted her stare to him again, realizing that she had never heard his genuine laugh before. It was nice – almost inviting and addictive.
"Yeah," he finally answered, "I can do that."
"Uh – okay," she said, hurrying back to her messy bed. She didn't understand why she was so caught off guard. Maybe she wasn't actually expecting him to agree. Iris tore at the blankets scattered across her mattress and pull them up, making it look new again. Dick hesitantly watched her fluff up the pillows by the doorframe to her room.
"You don't have to do that, you know."
Her expression twisted. "You're a guest," she explained, gesturing to the newly-made bed. "Guests take the bed."
He laughed, and it was softer this time, only under his breath. Iris lifted a brow as he folded his leather jacket on the back of her lounge chair, which she forgot until now that it was covered in her dirty laundry. Dick paid no mind though, and pointed to the other section of her apartment, where the living room and kitchen were connected. Iris suddenly realized this was the first time she had seen him without an old suit and tie on.
Don't admire him, she told herself. He looks good in a t-shirt and jeans, but DON'T ADMIRE HIM!
It was difficult though. Really difficult.
"The couch is fine," he said, interrupting her inner monologue. Iris blinked and noticed he was already heading for the living room. "You'd be surprised how comfy one can be."
Iris padded her bare feet to the doorframe, watched him plop down on the couch and turn down the volume on the TV. Another clip of the masked vigilante was playing on the news, but he didn't really seem to notice. She still lingered by the door, balancing on the balls of her feet. "Don't you need a blanket or something?"
"Got one right here," he replied, pulling at the thin quilt that she had draped over the back of her couch. Her mom had made it when she was twelve, so it was now too small for her, and certainly, too small for him. He didn't mind though.
Iris wavered and bit the end of her fingernail. She really, truly couldn't believe this was happening right now. She allowed the enemy right into her safe zone. Was he even her enemy at this point? He did help her, but ... they didn't like each other. Or maybe they did. She wasn't quite sure.
This was weird. This was so weird. Wasn't there a saying about this?
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Ah, yes. That.
Dick turned, meeting her worried eyes from over his shoulder. His smiled cracked just a bit, and for a second, she didn't think they were enemies at all.
"You can go to sleep, Iris," he muttered. "I'll be right here."
However, when she woke up to her alarm at six AM the next morning, she found the quilt he used folded back in its spot. She looked to the lounge chair in her room. No jacket. It was like he vanished like a ghost.
She heard the rumble of an engine outside her bedroom window. Iris approached it while wiping the sleep away from her eyes. She spotted the little silver Porsche pulling out of her building's parking lot, and suddenly, she didn't know how to feel. He had stayed all night, only slipping away once he knew she was awake.
Maybe Dick Grayson was simply a ghost.
•••
A/N: hullo hullo hullo!! I really have nothing to say but thank you to everyone that is enjoying the story so far! I love reading all your comments 🥺🥺 they're v encouraging since I'm stepping into a new fandom with this fic, so thank you all again! 💞