CHAPTER 8
HISTORY GEEK SIDE PROJECT

YOU know how when something bad happens, you do whatever you can to keep up the façade that everything's fine? You'll smile at more people. Brush your hair a different way. Put on that expensive perfume your mom bought you for Christmas a few years back. Anything to make those around you think that everything was fine. You weren't hiding anything; you were simply turning over a new leaf.

That's what Iris attempted to do. Emphasis on attempt. She took two showers that morning and brushed her hair into a nice, put-together ponytail. She used that Victoria's Secret Incredible perfume that her mother insisted was her scent in a card that explained why she couldn't come to Detroit for Christmas that year. She took a taxi to work, instead of the train, and while that was more expensive, it meant fewer people she had to interact with. When she arrived at work, she smiled to a few of the new interns, and even Charlie – the best, genuine smile she could muster while she was secretly screaming inside – before retiring to her cubicle.

She could finally let the mask off. Iris let her the corners of her mouth rest, and she blew out a heavy sigh while turning on her computer. Pulling her chair out the slightest bit, she looked to see if Dick had gotten in yet. He was currently leaning against his desk and talking to Mr. Angeles. His leather jacket was draped over his desk chair. Iris bit down on her bottom lip and looked away.

When she turned back into her desk, she noticed Charlie standing up, hanging an arm over her side of the cubicle wall. The assistant smiled towards Iris, dimples perking up on the sides of her cheeks. "Well, well, well, Miss Kingsley," she drawled, "might I say you're glowing this morning. Did someone have a little bit of 'fun' last night?"

Iris didn't even notice Charlie's blowjob hand gesture – although, it was severely inappropriate to do – because her eyes immediately fell to her hands. She felt a spike of anxiety crawl up her throat, and she was ready to release a scream when she realized her hands were fine. No lights. Nothing. Charlie just meant ... wait, what did she mean?

"I'm glowing?" She asked, brow raised inquisitively.

Charlie wrinkled her nose. "Uh – yeah, meaning that you look like you're in a good mood. You're glowing."

Iris took one last look at her hand, scrutinizing the base of her palm, before she shook her head and continued to log into her computer. Charlie decided to ignore the tone change.

"Hmm," Charlie said, leaning in closer, "I like your new necklace."

Her hand immediately went to the pendant, fingers clutching the stone as tight as she could. It felt warm again, but not scorching hot like last night. Her stomach was doing flipflops, and Charlie raised a brow at her coworker's reaction. Iris did her best to feign a smile, allowing that hand to slowly rest on her thigh, as if the gesture had never happened.

Charlie tilted her head to the side. "Is something wrong?"

"Why?" Iris asked, almost too quickly. "Why would anything be wrong? Nothing's wrong."

"I don't know," she shrugged. "You just seem kinda jumpy."

Iris licked at her dry lips and cracked them into another fake smile. "I'm fine," she promised. "Just ... woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

She stood to fiddle around with the stacks of manila folders that were lazily thrown around her desk, hoping that would make their awkward conversation end. Instead, she found herself looking towards Dick's office again, watching Mr. Angeles make his way out. Dick ran a hand over his face and then pulled at his tie. Ever so slowly, Iris felt time stop when his eyes met hers, but she turned away before she could stare any longer. She was hoping no one caught the interaction.

Oh, but someone did. Charlie McCarthy did have the eyes of a hawk.

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of Detective Grayson's bed, perhaps?"

Her question startled Iris to the core. The detective snapped her head up, eyes narrowing towards her coworker's shit-eating grin. "No!" She exclaimed, flicking Charlie's arm that still laid on top of their cubicle wall. "Get back to work and stop asking me questions! I'm the one that does the interrogating, remember?"

•••

Iris really didn't know what she had been expecting.

Dick looked like he had been preoccupied with something all morning – considering he spent a majority of those hours with his head in his hands and a shitload of papers strewn across his desk – so Iris took up to researching whatever weird amulet was now hanging on her neck all by herself. Truthfully, she also had a shitload of other work to do, cases the Chief wanted her to look into, but right now, this was more important. The body found by the creek could wait another day. It wasn't like it was just going to stop being dead.

At the very least, she expected her Google search to come up with a few distinct articles up top, and the rest would be garbage. That's kinda how Google always worked. I mean, how could you not come up with a straight answer to: What to do when your necklace won't come off and your hands start lighting up? Very easily. A majority of the top articles were from jewelry blogs giving instructions on how to fix a broken necklace. That was way past her problem.

She had to get into the deeper stuff. Eventually, Iris led herself down a hole about amulets, and then spiritual pendants, and then the history of the turquoise stone. After two hours of leaning into her monitor and getting a severe backache, Iris happened upon an old WordPress blog about Aztec relics that hadn't been updated in who knows how long. It wasn't an academic article, but it was something that also happened to feature a picture of the exact necklace that hung off her neck right now.

According to this dodgy blog, the necklace was an ancient Aztec relic only spoken about in old wives' tales. It was usually worn by the earth goddess, Chalchiuhtlicue. Many artists during the Aztec reign tried to replicate the necklace and gift it to their rulers, but none could ever make it just right. The Aztecs believe the original necklace was still out there, and it harnessed the raw power from Chalchiuhtlicue. This kind of power was strong, coming right from the earth's crust, and could be used to heal or destroy. The heavy, turquoise pendant contained the ancient energy, a symbol of her husband, Xiuhtecuhtli, also known as the Turquoise Lord.

Iris rubbed at her eyes. This was so not happening. Seriously, how could it be? Her life wasn't something written about in comic books, nor was she the main character in some story about how "true love conquers all." She was the creator of her own fate, but recently, it seemed like someone else was pulling the strings.

She needed a cigarette.

As she stood outside in the cold, smoke billowing from her chapped lips, Iris wondered just how she came up with the notion that the small object between her fingers could solve anything. It really couldn't. All she felt was a sense of relief, before her tar-filled lungs began to hack up something jammed in the base of her throat. Cigarettes did nothing but provide economic stimulus and give innocent people cancer. So why did she think otherwise in times of stress?

Addiction was truly a bitch.

After throwing the dying stub to the pavement, Iris did her usual stomp and made her way back inside the station. It was probably time to do some real work anyways. Tearing her coat off, she pushed through the glass doors of the station and almost crashed right into another a body. Iris blinked. Her whole body stiffened as the other person held her in place, halting her feet from moving any further.

"Oh, hey," she muttered, shrugging Dick's hand off. For a moment, it provided her the same sense of comfort as the nicotine lingering on her tongue. She felt her throat close up when he looked at her.

They both knew what happened last night. Would they say anything was the real question?

"I was just – uh –" Dick stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He waved to another guy headed out the door as a means of distraction, but the other man just sent him a confused look. Dick lowered his hand and turned back to Iris. "I was just going to get a coffee. I'll be back in five."

She nodded, chewing down on her bottom lip. Iris began to bounce on the balls of her feet while trying to come up with a way to get out of this conversation, even though she knew that she desperately needed to talk to him about last night. She just needed to know that this wasn't some nightmare that she still hadn't woken up from. She needed to know that she wasn't crazy.

Dick cleared his throat, lowering his voice to a whisper.

Iris held her breath.

"Was – um –" He glanced to make sure no one was watching. "Was everything okay this morning? Nothing new?"

She turned her head slightly, watching Charlie duck her head down and look away. They needed to talk in private, but where? Every single inch of this place was crawling with wandering eyes. Iris scanned the room, looking down the corridor that led to the kitchen. She noticed a janitor pull a few cleaning products from his closet before softly shutting the door. Her brain sparked with an idea.

"Follow me," she whispered, tugging on his loose tie before he had a chance to argue. Her eyes flickered around the office as she pulled him behind her, ripping the door to the janitor's closet open and throwing them both inside. She shut the door with a discreet click.

Iris hadn't really taken into consideration how cramped the space would be. She yanked on the string that turned on the lightbulb above their heads, casting a dark orange light over their faces. They were now standing chest to chest. Iris tried moving away the best she could, but that just caused her spine to hit the wall. She groaned and pushed a few tufts of hair out of her view.

"Why are we here?" Dick asked, eyes roaming around the small closet.

"This isn't the time for your annoying questions!" She whispered loudly, earning a glare from him. "You believe what happened last night, right?"

He paused for a moment. His expression twisted with confusion. "Why wouldn't I believe it?"

Iris released a breath that she didn't realize she had been holding in. That didn't mean they were out of the clear just yet.

"Because it's impossible," she continued, lifting a hand for him to see. "Hands don't just fucking light up, Dick!"

"I believe you. I swear." Before he could stop himself, Dick reached out, running his thumb along the smooth base of the turquoise pendant. For something so powerful, it looked like nothing. He looked at her from underneath his thick lashes, curling his lips into a smirk. "I've seen some shit in my day."

"Some shit?" She repeated, quirking a brow upward. For once, Iris didn't feel like moving away from him. "Like wearing a necklace that might possibly be an ancient Aztec relic with special powers? Shit like that?"

Dick's stare went narrow. "Did you just say –"

"Yes, yes, I said all of that," she huffed. "I don't know how accurate that information may be. It came from a WordPress that looked like it hadn't been updated since 2010. Classic history geek side project."

"But those are the people with the most information," he added with a twinkle in his eyes. "The question is – how do you really know that's the real necklace and not some cheap replica from a museum gift shop?"

Iris tugged at the chain. "Well, I would unlock it to inspect it, but I can't quite get it off."

"Oh, yeah. Right." He looked down at his shoes, thinking over his next set of words. After a long pause, he snapped his fingers. "We have to go back to St. Anne's. Ask the owner about who gave her the necklace, and we track them down from there."

"Meleesa doesn't know shit," Iris quipped. "She said the necklace came from an anonymous benefactor. We don't have a way to find out any more about this, besides that blog, and I don't know how much I'm trusting a guy that claims this necklace harnesses powers from the goddess, Chal – Chalchi –" She shook her head. "You get what I mean."

Dick shook his head. "Still, you gotta retrace your steps to find an answer. You out of all people, know that."

Iris batted her lashes, sending him a doubtful expression. Her chest was just touching is, and for a moment, she wondering if he could hear her heartbeat. It was thumping hard against her chest, creating a steady rhythm, and the slightest wave of his hot breath against her cheeks just made it all the more worse.

"We're detectives. We're supposed to be doing real work," she finally replied. "The last thing we need is to figure out why my stupid necklace won't fucking come off!" She pulled on the chain one more time, releasing a loud sigh of defeat. "Goddamit, why won't you come off?!"

"Lower your voice –"

The closet door opened quickly, allowing the bright light from the outside to blind them for a short moment. Iris held a hand over her face before her eyes finally focused on the culprit. It was just the janitor, staring at them like a deer in the headlights. Iris and Dick shared another look.

Dick cleared his throat, "We'll just be –"

"Yeah," Iris muttered, sliding out of the cramped closet and sending the janitor a short wave. Dick followed swiftly behind.

The two of them walked back into the station, which seemed like it hadn't even moved since they left. Everyone was still in the same place. Papers were thrown everywhere. The Chief was still having an argument with Steve. Iris turned on her heel to face Dick once again, surprised at his sudden closeness. The small closet made this proximity not as strange, and for a second, Iris allowed her cheeks to flush.

"We'll talk more about this later." She wagged a finger in front of his face. "Maybe."

Dick grinned, watching her retreat back to her desk. He walked towards the exit again. "Maybe?"

Iris turned again, shrugging ever so casually. "Who else am I going to share this burden with?"

•••

A/N: thank you guys for 10k reads!!!!! love my dick (grayson) thots SO MUCH 💞