CHAPTER 13
TWIN SERPENTS

IRIS hated that it was now a regular thing for her to call Dick Grayson in times of panic.

She absolutely despised that she felt the need to contact him and only him. Independent women do not call cute coworkers to relay their problems onto, and cute coworkers don't normally take on a burden like that without a price. Wait a minute – could she seriously stop referring to Dick as –

Iris pinched the bridge of her nose. She hadn't stopped pacing since she got back to her apartment. Her heartbeat still hadn't calmed down, and she refused to take off her parka until she stopped shivering. The Full House rerun on TV did nothing to calm her nerves. Closing her eyes, Iris silently begged for someone just to pick up Dick Grayson's phone – even if it was his mother or something. Maybe even Batman.

Now that she thought of it, talking to Batman probably wasn't the best idea. She could hardly breathe as it is.

It was on the third ring. Iris was ready to give up. And then, a magical moment happened –

"Iris," Dick breathed out on the other end, "I'm super busy right now. I'm helping Angeles with something so I'm still at the station –"

She couldn't stop herself from interrupting: "I know who's been tracking me."

Dick was silent for a moment. Iris heard something shut softly through her speaker, and she raised a brow with suspicion. "What happened?" He asked, his tone direct and grim.

Iris looked up at the ceiling, noticing that the paint was chipping up there too. She sighed into her speaker before padding over to the refrigerator. "I wish I could explain," she replied, grabbing a water bottle from the top shelf. "But I literally can't."

"Can you please try?"

Iris guzzled half of the bottle in less than thirty seconds. This was one of the first times she grabbed water instead of whiskey in a moment of crisis. "Basically –" She paused to wipe excess water off her mouth. "– I took the train tonight like normal, but it was weirdly empty, and then some weird, short guy approached me, saying some shit like, 'We all know you, Iris.' So my fight or flight response went off like a zinger, and he told me he's part of this group called the Coatls, who have been wanting this necklace for who knows how long. And then, he said something about the necklace choosing me? I don't know. He shouted something about the return of Chalch – I can't pronounce it – before jumping out of the train and killing himself!"

Dick was silent again. Iris' knuckles were turning white as she crushed the water bottle in her tight grip. "Dick Grayson," she spat, "if you've hung up on me, I swear to fucking god that I will –"

"Listen," he replied rapidly, "don't freak out –"

"It's a little late for that!"

"I'm driving over to your apartment. It's time we look into this together."

Iris bit the end of her tongue. "But –"

"I'll see you soon. Remember: sit back. Don't freak out. Okay? Okay."

The line went dead, and Iris allowed her arm to finally hang limply at her side. There was no way she could ignore this problem anymore. She was truly in too deep to climb out.

•••

Iris did the exact opposite of what Dick asked. During the fifteen minutes of waiting for his arrival, Iris was already curled up on her couch with a laptop and her mother's handmade quilt. The only thing keeping her sane was the dying cigarette held between her two fingers. With shaky hands, she desperately searched the internet for anything related to the word, coatl. Her old Macbook could hardly keep up.

It didn't take an idiot to realize that coatl wasn't an English word. As Iris dug deeper into the mystery, she ended up on a website all about the Aztec language, Nahuatl. According to the site, coatl referred to a serpent or twin, as well as being one of the day-signs in the Aztec calendar. It was also a serpent creature in Dungeons and Dragons. But Iris took a wild guess that a group of thieves focused on stealing a power-filled necklace probably had nothing to do with a roleplaying game. On the other hand ... who was she to judge?

Fifteen minutes later, right on the dot, a knock sounded at her door. Stabbing her cigarette into an ashtray, Iris shouted, "It's open!"

Dick walked through the door and shut it before she even had the chance to look up. Once her eyes met his, she took in the disapproving expression on his face. Dick turned the lock on the door and lifted his hands. "You have a group of weirdos tracking you and you don't even lock the door?!"

Iris puckered her lips when she realized her mistake. "I really didn't think about that part."

"Yeah, obviously." Despite the dissatisfaction on his face, Dick chuckled softly and hung his jacket on the coatrack by the TV. He nodded towards Full House playing quietly and sat down next to her on the couch. "I thought I told you to relax?"

She turned towards Dick, sending him a doubtful look, as if to say, Did you really think I would do that? Iris licked her lips and leaned back into the floppy cushions. "I know I was freaking out, but ..." She shrugged. "You really didn't need to come so fast. You could've stayed back to help the Chief."

Dick raised a brow. "You think I wanted to help him? Yeah, okay. Being here with you is much better." He cleared his throat, looking away for a moment. "Even though these are dire circumstances."

"You're telling me," she huffed, pushing the laptop in his direction. Dick instinctively slid over and their hips bumped. Iris glanced towards him, cheeks flushing a rosy pink, before Dick moved an inch away. Iris rubbed at her nose and recovered from her moment of vulnerability, "So I – uh – I did a little bit of research while waiting for you."

She slipped the Macbook onto Dick's lap. Iris bit the edge of her nail while watching him read the information with narrowed eyes. "I don't know if knowing the definition of coatl helps at all –"

"No, it does," Dick mumbled, typing a link into the search bar. Iris leaned into his shoulder, and Dick stiffened when he felt her breath on his neck. Swallowing hard, he showed Iris the screen, and she furrowed her brow at the website that looked like it was made all the way back in 2008. It was an all-black webpage, besides the small symbol at the top and the bright turquoise text following it. COATLS: THE TWIN SERPENTS was written in bold underneath the symbol. There was something so familiar about it.

"Okay," she breathed, "what's this supposed to mean?"

"Before I left the station, I managed to search through some of the dark web about the Coatls, and this website seemed like our best bet –"

Iris blinked. "You used your office computer to search the dark web?"

"Oh, don't act like you haven't done it before," he scoffed before punching a finger onto the old laptop screen. "This site might look old, but it details what the organization is about and how to join. That's the most we've got so far. It was even locked by a password."

"How did you figure out the password?"

Dick smirked, "A hacker doesn't give away his secrets."

Iris' stare formed into slits.

"I just googled, Aztec turquoise god, and took a wild guess. The password was this complicated word, like Xiuhtec –"

Her eyes went wide with recognition. Iris snapped her fingers. "I think I know what you're talking about! I might've – well – visited my old neighbor who was part of this group at the county jail last week and he might've told me that they were stealing the necklace because some guy told them that it was their sole connection to –"

She paused, trying to sound out the word the best she could: "Xiuh – Xiuhtec – Xiuhtecuhtli."

"And you didn't tell me you went there because?"

"God forbid, I figure out something on my own, Grayson," she rolled her eyes, turning back to the computer. "Don't be like a clingy boyfriend."

Dick swallowed down his pride and sat back into the couch. The words caused his heart to beat fast, and he hoped to God that she couldn't hear it. His hand cramped up. Time went still, especially when she turned to look at him again. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear her –

"DICK!"

He shook his head. "Huh?"

"I said, I think I know that symbol." She bit the inside of her cheek. "My neighbor had it engraved in a sign on his door."

They looked at the screen together, right where Iris was pointing. Something about it was familiar to her, and when it finally clicked, she wondered why it had taken so long. For months, she had been speculating why Josh hung such an ugly plaque over his apartment number, but it all made sense now. This also looked like the symbol that hung between the turquoise beads during that foul taxi ride she had a few months ago – something that she was surprised she could even remember. The Coatls were there this whole time, right in front of her, and she hadn't questioned it under they appeared in her life.

The website went into detail on a few crucial points – things too crucial to be on the internet, even if Dick had found it on the dark web. Iris could only make herself skim it, though, in fear that someone would find them with her IP address and – I don't know – try to suffocate her through the computer. What Josh had said was all true, according to this website: the necklace was their exclusive connection to Xiuhtecuhtli, the Aztec god of fire and day, but it always chose a female to wear it. Whoever the necklace chose would be gifted with power and become the reborn Chalchiuhtlicue, also known as Xiuhtecuhtli's wife. Once the necklace-bearer is reunited with the reincarnation of Xiuhtecuhtli, a new world would arise at their hands.

Maybe that old WordPress blog got a few things right after all.

"This is too much," Iris huffed, pushing the laptop onto her coffee table. She stood from the couch and unwrapped herself from the quilt, padding her feet over to the liquor cabinet. After a few minutes of rummaging through the packed shelves, Iris held up a bottle of Jameson. "Wanna drink?"

Dick glanced over his shoulder. "Uh – yeah, sure."

"Greaaat," she hissed, grabbing two large shot glasses. Iris took a small swig from the bottle as Dick approached the kitchen island, watching her with keen eyes. Dipping the bottle down, she filled the two glasses tp the brink with whiskey, smiling wickedly.

He caught the shot glass when she slid it across the island towards him. Dick plucked the glass up and rocked it in between two fingers. "You know," he said, hardly meeting her eyes, "it might be a good idea for you to actually lay low for a while and stay at my place."

"Your place? You mean the large, penthouse apartment in the middle of the city?" She snickered, tilting her head back. "Yeah, like that's a good idea."

Dick looked at Iris beneath his thick lashes, watching her take the large shot in one go. Iris choked a little as it went down, bringing a hand up to her mouth. Taking a few deep breaths, she eyed the filled shot glass still in his hand before meeting his hardened stare. She glared.

"You can't be serious." She smacked her glass against the kitchen island. "Dick, I'm not going to put my life on hold just because some crazy organization thinks I'm the second coming of an Aztec goddess."

"Do you even hear yourself?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "That alone should give you a reason to lay low. At least once!"

Iris scoffed dramatically, "What? You suddenly care about my safety? Is that what's happening?"

"I always have, Iris. I haven't been helping you through this thing just for sport." His tone was softer now, more enigmatic. Iris refused to speak, but still found her eyes darting to his lips for a split second. "Why does it matter?"

The island separated them, but she still felt too close. Everything about this conversation was too close. Iris swallowed hard and looked at the shot glass he abandoned on the table. "Are you gonna drink that?"

Dick only quirked a brow upward, giving Iris free reign to pluck the glass with two fingers and down it until she hit the last drop. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. It burned on the way down, but it was the best thing to distract her from this conversation.

After a long moment, Iris stood up straighter and placed the two glasses in the sink. "Listen," she sighed, "I'm not here to be your little sidekick or some kind of hero that saves the day. I don't want that."

"Trust me," Dick grumbled, sauntering over to where she leaned against the kitchen counter, "neither do I."

Iris' shoe brushed against his when he approached her, invading her space. She crossed her arms tightly and curled her lips into a frown. "But Robin is who you are, Dick. No matter how many times you try to bury him, you still crawl back into that suit from time to time." Her brow shot up, waiting for a reply from him, but Dick stayed silent. "That isn't me. I'm not a hero, and I'm certainly not someone who lives in fear."

Dick stuck his hands in his front pockets and looked at the floor, taking a long moment to keep quiet. He hardly moved an inch, except to lift his head and send her a set of what she could only guess was his own version of puppy dog eyes. She wasn't quite sure. If that's what he was doing, he was bad at it. She thought he looked like he was holding in gas.

"My point still stands. I've been doing this shit alone since I entered my twenties." Iris sighed heavily and spun on her heel to rinse out the two shot glasses. "A dumb group isn't going to stop that."

"Iris, wait –"

Dick reached out and grasped her arm. His touch caught her off guard, and she suddenly allowed the glass to fall from her hands and into the sink. Iris cursed under her breath, shut off the faucet, and turned back around to face him. Her scowl could start a war, or end one. Dick couldn't be too sure.

But when her eyes met his, she found her expression grow soft. Her cheeks flushed as she noticed how close they really were, and suddenly, the proximity was the only thing she could think about. His nose was inches from hers. Their chests were practically touching. Iris thought she could hear his heart beating fast.

Dick's eyes searched hers, before landing on her mouth. He still smelled the nicotine lingering in her breath, but he didn't move away. Iris licked her lips and tasted the fresh sheen of chapstick she applied as soon as she got home. She felt Dick's hand move down, tracing patterns onto her bare skin, until he laced their fingers together. Iris was frozen, unable to even think, as he used his other hand to reach up and brush a few hairs from her cheek. His skin burned against her own. It was the kind of burning she could get used to.

Their lips brushed. Time stopped. It felt like it was only them in this big, wide universe. The bad blood between them had never truly existed. It just evaporated; an imaginable force only meant to bring them together, in this moment. If Iris moved closer, they would be kissing. She would be kissing Dick Grayson.

This couldn't be happening. But it was.

No, she thought. It definitely was not.

Iris moved her face away, allowing his mouth to just about graze her cheek, before he quickly leaned back. She cleared her throat and stepped away, bumping her hip into the counter. "Um ..." She winced as her side began to throb instantly. Iris didn't know if she could look at him. "I'm fine staying here by myself. You should go."

In a perfect world, Dick would offer to stay the night at her place, just to make sure she was okay. In a perfect world, they might've shared a heated kiss and dealt with the consequences come morning. In a perfect world, Dick Grayson and Iris Kingsley were always meant to meet, and maybe, they'd let themselves fall deeply and irrevocably in love with each other.

But it wasn't a perfect world, and Dick Grayson knew when it was his time to leave. So he nodded his head in acknowledgment, kept his lips in a fine line, and grabbed his jacket before leaving Iris Kingsley's apartment. He didn't think he would regret it as much as he did.

•••

A/N: got ya!!!!!! did y'all think I would make it THAT easy of a slowburn???? I know I'm not v good with slowburns but.........I'm suffering just as much as you guys. don't worry tho, something is coming soon 🤪