CHAPTER 18
BAGGAGE

RUBBING one hand over her eyelids, Iris reached out to grab the alarm clock off her bedside table and felt nothing but warm skin. That's not right. She let her hand rest there for a minute, face twisting with confusion, as she wondered why her alarm clock suddenly felt like a manly, toned chest. Unless ...

Her eyes snapped open. She sat up. Curled up in the sheets beside her, one hand hanging over the edge of the mattress, was Dick Grayson, sleeping like a bear in hibernation. Fuck, fuck, fuck ... Iris looked down and immediately noticed that she was only wearing one of his long-sleeved shirts. Running a hand through her hair, she viewed around, taking in the master bedroom. Her clothes were strewn on the other end of the room, while his were nowhere to be found.

This is bad, she thought. This is really bad. How could she possibly face him at work, more or less when he wakes up?

She glanced at the clock sitting on his bedside table. 5:21 A.M. And somehow, the sunlight was already bursting through the fucking window. She needed to leave. Now.

Iris swung her feet off the bed and felt a sudden pain in her temples once they hit the floor. The pounding only increased as she walked towards her clothes right near the bathroom door, thumping against her forehead as if that was its job. Iris kneeled down to grab her jeans, but as the aching became too much, she found herself doubling over and pressing her forehead into the carpet. "This is awful," she whispered, hands fisted into her hair.

Get up! Her subconscious screamed. Get up before he wakes up and you make a fool out of yourself!

Iris huffed and brought herself up slowly, but the pain didn't lessen. She'd have to suffer through this if she wanted to get out alive. Dick was still snoring soundly in the bed, hardly moving a muscle. She tugged on her jeans and turtleneck before slipping on her favorite ankle boots. Pulling her unwashed hair back into a high ponytail, Iris spotted her coat and purse hanging off the armchair in the corner of the room and grabbed them as quietly as she could.

Dick released another loud snore. Iris glanced over at him. Despite the hangover hammering against her skull, she walked back over to the California King and kneeled on his side. He was in a deep sleep. Iris still found it hard to look at him. Shame crept up on her like a ghost, but she didn't regret giving in to her own desires. She didn't regret holding him so tightly that she felt like her arms would break. She didn't regret locking her legs around his waist just to feel him more inside her. She didn't even regret letting him see such an intimate side of her, something hardly anyone got to see. Iris didn't regret Dick Grayson one bit.

So why did she want to leave so suddenly? Even she couldn't answer that question. Cautiously, she lifted her hand, brushing her fingers across his forehead, moving pieces of hair from his eyes. Her touch lingered for a moment – dusting across his cheekbone, remembering the way his thumbs caressed her own – before she realized how fucking weird she was being.

Iris stood and pulled on her peacoat. Slinging her bag across her shoulder, she did her best to tiptoe out of the room, careful to not let the heel of her boot hit the floor too hard. Once she was at the door, she looked around the room one last time, making sure she didn't forget anything. Finally, her eyes landed on Dick, who was rubbing at his nose and pulling the comforter up higher. Iris frowned, tapping her finger against the doorframe, before quietly slipping out of his apartment.

•••

Her hangover only got worse as the morning went on. Iris almost found herself stowing away in the Uber that took her home. She ultimately decided that she was calling into work and staying home. After shutting all the blinds in her apartment, Iris downed some ibuprofen and retired to her bed for the rest of the day. Not even a Friends rerun could keep her company. She was already sensitive to light as it is.

Normally, she'd feel bad about taking a day off. She hated being sick, and hated hangovers even more. When she managed to get the flu a year ago, she remembered having a mental breakdown about not being able to come into the station because she didn't want to contaminate anyone else. But today was different – this hangover was different. The pain just wouldn't go away, and she remembered everything from last night. Iris hoped that she'd at least get the decency of blacking out the night completely. That wasn't in the cards for her, though, and she was left dreaming the day away of Dick's hands over her body and his hot breath in the crook of her neck.

Thankfully, it was Friday, and she was now allowed a three day weekend. Iris decided she'd take this whole weekend to stay in, even though her conscious begged her to do something. As her hangover lessened once the day came to a close, she finally checked her phone to see that she missed three calls from Dick, all within four-hour intervals. She missed even more messages, but she didn't bother looking at those. Iris simply set her phone down and managed to sleep until her alarm clock woke her up at the ass crack of dawn the next morning.

He called again. And again. And again. Her phone was practically flooded by Dick Grayson all weekend, and maybe Iris deserved it. She did completely vanish from his place. It was also a tad hypocritical of her to disappear and then ignore him, just as he had done to her the first time they made plans. But she just needed some time. She needed to think.

Iris didn't like people very often. She never usually spent the night sharing a bottle of rum with someone, or allowed them to touch the most intimate parts of her. She didn't open her heart. But that's exactly what she did with Dick, and that may be very, very catastrophic for the both of them.

She had baggage. A couple of suitcases worth. Iris didn't like sharing much. She pushed and pushed people away until they had fallen off the cliff that was her love life. She didn't want people to get too close, and she was scared – so very scared – to love someone so much, only to have them leave, like her dad did.

Iris was going to push him away, like how she did with everyone that tried to get too close. Dick was right at the edge of the cliff, holding his hand out to her, asking for her to reel him back in, but all it took was one shove to send him plummeting. It was what was best. She didn't need anyone getting caught up in her own issues.

Someone will love Dick Grayson, but someone wasn't Iris Kingsley.

The final push would come Monday morning, as she strode right into the station, not looking back. She kept her stare forward. No greetings, no hand waves. Iris needed to get to work and stay there. Today she would finally cement the drowned body case. She quickly regarded Charlie before sitting at her desk and shrugging off her jacket. And she stayed there for most of the day, not even casting a glance towards Dick's office. Although, she had heard him get in an hour after her. (His shoes were too loud to ignore.) Besides that, she was completely and utterly ignorant of his presence, and it might just stay that way.

It was like they had never once said a word to each other. Perhaps it was better that way.

"Did something happen?"

Iris looked up. Charlie was hanging over the cubicle wall, as usual, and cocked her head to the side. A sigh escaped Iris' lips before she replied, "Nope. Just fine."

"Really?" Charlie implored. "Because you're even more antisocial than normal. Seriously, if something is wrong and you need to talk –"

"I said, 'I'm fine,' Charlie!" Iris huffed, unaware that her reaction was going to be that loud. Charlie's jaw shifted, irritation bubbling beneath her skin. She rolled her eyes before sitting down. Iris instantly regretted her response and debated on going over to apologize, but fate had other plans.

A dark shadow appeared over Charlie, and she lifted her head to see Dick Grayson throwing a folder right in front of her keyboard. "I need you to look through this and find the contact information of all the suspects reported in the case file. Thanks," he said, eyes roaming over to Iris' desk.

Iris didn't plan on looking over. She hadn't planned on acknowledging him at all today. But something had taken over her – curiosity, interest – and she couldn't stop herself from raising her eyes and meeting his stare over the cubicle wall. Her hand went tight on the mouse. Her whole body began to sweat.

She looked away just as quickly, pretending like nothing had ever happened. Iris was still good at that, and so was he, but maybe he wasn't up to playing that game today.

"Wait, excuse me," he muttered, throwing his hands in the air. "Can we cut the bullshit for a sec?"

Iris froze. In fact, everyone froze, only managing to turn their heads in Dick's direction when he raised his voice. Charlie pursed her red lips and lifted a brow.

Walking up to the corner of her cubicle, Dick stared down at Iris, as if he could burn holes into her back. Iris didn't blink and simply kept her eyes on her computer screen. "I should rephrase that. My apologies," he said. "Can we cut your bullshit, Iris Kingsley?"

She wouldn't move. She couldn't show her weakness. Just one more push and he would be flying off the cliff.

"Okay, you're not going to talk, so I'll just talk to you." He leaned down the slightest bit, casting a glare over his shoulder at all the wandering eyes. "Even though just about everyone is watching, I have something to say and you're going to listen."

Iris clenched her teeth, heart hammering in her chest.

"No matter how much you ignore me, or berate me, or disregard me, I was there for you, Iris, more than a friend ever would be. Because, fuck, we're not friends – not even coworkers – at this point. I don't know if I can ever be just friends with you now. I care about you. I care about you so fucking much, and you still just ... push me away. I reach and I reach and it's just fucking useless." He shook his head. The office was deadly quiet. "Why do you do that? Why won't you let me in?"

She was silent. Her eyes went blurry as a few tears filled her lash line.

"Okay, cool. You're still not going to talk. That's fine." He stood up straighter, trying to maintain a stance that everything was fine, even though he felt like he was crumbling. "I'm over this. I'm done with all of this. Please, don't call me anymore when things get tough. Don't act like you care, because I know you don't. You've shown that to me time and time again, and as much as I wanted to ignore it because I care so much for you, I'm not ignoring it anymore. Let's just pretend like the other doesn't exist whenever we see each other. God knows you're good at doing that."

Iris sniffled. She hadn't wanted to, but her nose was running and she couldn't stop the sob clogging itself in her throat. She looked over at him finally, teary-eyed, and wanted nothing more than to tell him that none of that was true, that she cared for him but it was far more complicated than that. But it was a lost cause. He was angry and he wouldn't understand right now. Maybe he would someday.

Wiping the end of her nose, Iris muttered, "Dick, I –"

He was already turning away, scanning the room as everyone went back to their business. "This isn't a fucking show," he called out and retreated to his office, not looking back.

•••

To say that she felt like shit would be an understatement.

Iris knew where she had gone wrong. She knew that Dick had a right to be furious with her. She could even understand why everyone was staring as he mouthed off to her about how bad of a person she was. (I mean, she would've done the same. Iris didn't fault them for watching.) But it was the fact that she had to revel in Dick's speech throughout the whole day. She had wanted to be fully consumed in her work, but still found herself without nothing done. Iris stared into the computer screen with Dick's words repeating over and over again in her brain.

I was there for you.

I don't know if I can ever be just friends with you.

I care about you.

I'm done with all of this.

Don't act like you care, because I know you don't.

It was enough to make her leave early, and Iris felt everyone's stares searing into her back as she exited the station. Not even Charlie had piped up to say goodbye. Iris guessed that everyone was just as embarrassed as she was, or they simply pitied her. She couldn't tell which was worse.

Iris headed out into the frigid air and buried her face into her coat. She almost forgot that Christmas was right around the corner. The bright, rainbow lights surrounding the town reflected across her irises, reminding her of the delightful holiday season. She had no idea what she would be doing. Probably staying home, per usual, seeing as her mom didn't like to host the holidays anymore after her dad's passing. Now that she thought of it, Iris hadn't even gotten a call from her mom recently, who typically called to wish her a merry Christmas at least a week before the actual holiday. Maybe it would be good for Iris to check in on her for once. God knows that she probably needed someone like a mother right now after these shitty couple of months.

Iris scrolled through her recent calls to see when she last spoke to her mother. Exactly six months ago. Shit, Iris thought, pressing down on the call button. She began to fast-walk across the street, eager to make the early train home tonight, while also trying to balance her phone between her shoulder and ear. Iris dug through her bag to make sure she didn't forget anything at her desk. (Last thing she wanted was to go back there again.)

It was on the third ring that Iris saw a pair of headlights flashing right in front of her. She paused and suddenly realized that she was standing right in the middle of the street. As the van's lights became brighter, blurring her entire vision, Iris finally understood what a deer felt like when it was stuck in the middle of a dead-end road. A soft gasp escaped her lips, and she had just enough time to end the call as she closed her eyes and waited for the impact of her body crushing against the roof of the car.

But that didn't happen.

There was an abrupt halt. Tires screeched against the pavement. Iris felt nothing. All she heard was a bunch of voices piling out of the vehicle.

Iris opened her eyes, watching a group of people jump out of the black van, running straight for her. She blinked. "What the fu –"

Hands wrapped around her arms. A dozen voices filtered through her ears before a bag was placed over her head. Iris shouted, but it was no use. She yanked herself out of their grasp for a weapon, feeling for her gun that was usually on her hip, but there was nothing. It was back at the station. She knew she had forgotten something. And now, she had no weapon, no ally, nothing. Her lights weren't even turning on.

Iris screamed as loud as she possibly could, fighting against her captors' grip, while her lungs threatened to give out. It was useless. No one heard her as she was thrown into the van and driven off into the dead of night.

•••

A/N: OKAY OKAY HERE ME OUT. I know iris kinda acted like a total bitch, but she has reasons!!! she has major abandonment issues after her dad died and she doesn't want to love someone in fear that they will leave her. she thinks of love as a burden and doesn't want to think about it. so she ignores dick and hopes he won't like her anymore :((( vvvvv sad

in case you guys wanted to see a song that captures her feelings perfectly, especially in relation to this chapter, "sorry" by halsey is it!

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

AND NOOOOOOW we gonna meet the coatls next chapter. they're cool, I swear. hope y'all are ready 😈