Gotham's Discontent
Chapter Twenty-Two: Who's the Boss?
Deedee opened the door, letting it swing open as she allowed him to cross the threshold onto the fine carpet: he gave the comfortable-looking mattress, red sheets and heavy black comforter a raised eyebrow suggestively glancing at Deedee, whom returned a knowing look. She was smoldering from the encounter downstairs, but once she closed the door behind them, Deedee dropped the antagonistic expression and watched her brother observe the lap of luxury, the fine décor and the wide window; the glass-stained lamp which he gave a sarcastic flick and it tinked in response. Alone together again, at last. Deedee uttered an amused sigh when Jerome poked his head into the bathroom and exclaimed in child-like amusement— "Galavan really said, 'Let's put a bathroom in a bedroom'." One would think that he'd never knew what other homes looked like outside of Haley's Circus. Always the jester, he was.
He stepped out: "He does know what putting you and I in the same room will mean, right?"
"He's very aware of the nature of our relationship," said Deedee. "He's made the metaphorical remark that I'm a mad dog that's been let off the leash, and you're the one that's supposed to be pulling me back."
Jerome grinned, "Suppose Tabitha wouldn't have a dog collar in her bedroom, you think?"
"She's got a bullwhip," said Deedee matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, I've seen what she can do with that thing," said Jerome. "Don't suppose that's what she used on you to 'put you in your place'?"
"You'd like to have seen that, wouldn't you?" replied Deedee.
"Wouldn't I, though," Jerome growled. "I bet you liked it too, you little freak."
Deedee caught the rousing note in his voice, and she watched him crawl into bed, stretching comfortably with his hands underneath his head. Jerome gestured with his chin for her to lay beside him. Deedee cocked her head to the side,
"Brother," said Deedee, "Don't you think we should talk about a couple of things first?"
"Like what?" asked Jerome nonchalantly, clearly unbothered of what had come to pass over the course of the last week. Deedee's small smile of amusement vanished, and a frown took its place. Jerome second-glanced at her at the sudden change in facial expressions and gestured for her to enlighten him.
Deedee unfolded her arms and pointed downstairs, "Uh, to start—how about this whole situation? Me, leaving Arkham the way I did? Theo Galavan and his scheme for Gotham? Things that have happened in the past few days? You really aren't curious why he broke you out of Arkham?" Deedee remarked when Jerome gave a bored sigh and rolled his eyes.
"Mm, he did give us an explanation—"
"I know what he said," Deedee interrupted him. "That's not necessarily why he did it. He's a politician, and like all of them, he's dirty. Hatchet job," she said.
"That's a cute pun," said Jerome. "Is that an ode to our late mother? Relax," he said when his sister's frown etched deeper into her cute dimples. "I'm kidding. So. He's a politician. Doesn't mean anything to me. You're obviously upset over it; but why does it bother you? You literally had blood on your hands. What's a smear campaign compared to—"
"Because I don't like being used," said Deedee coldly. "What will it mean for us when he's got what he wants and he doesn't need our 'unique talent' anymore, Brother?"
"Sounds like a lot of thinking." Jerome sighed. "But I'm not dumb, Deedee. Don't you think I mulled it around my noggin?"
"I think you're just grateful to be out of Arkham and you haven't thought all of this through." Deedee replied, flinging a hand toward him aggressively. "I don't trust him."
"He's certainly treated you better than anyone else we've ever known—well, except me, anyhow," Jerome added with an enduring hand on his heart.
"You're still treating this like it's a funny joke and that's fine, but I just don't want to be the punchline of a long con." Deedee said hotly. "The fact that Galavan acts like a better father than our own is besides the fact—"
Jerome said, "Have you gone to see him since you've been out?"
"Kind of the reason why Galavan had Tabitha put me in my place." Deedee answered immediately. "And no, he isn't afraid of me," she added when Jerome gave her a curious look. "I wanted to hurt him; but Galavan insisted that I not lay a hand on him."
"You did, didn't you?" Jerome said fondly.
"Not as roughly as I wanted to," said Deedee. "However, I ultimately decided to leave him for you."
"Oh, what a treat." Jerome said.
His gentle, playful façade didn't ease Deedee's mind; for she only stared at him incredulously for his aloof attitude about…everything. She could only stare at him. He didn't seem to want to know about the details of Galavan's plot as to why Mayor James was held hostage in the mansion; how Galavan had brought them all to his mansion but distinctly asked them to stay indoors; how Galavan had specifically instructed Deedee not to harm their father or injure one brooding Detective Gordon—Was he not in the least bit curious? Deedee couldn't be amused at all things, see the funny side in all things like her brother. As delighted as she had been for being released from Arkham, it was the idea that Galavan's Plan B would play out after he got what he wanted out of the Arkham Break-Out, what ever it was…
Deedee, a bit high-strung, uttered a small frustrated sigh, "Will you take this seriously?"
"I am," Jerome said, and his smile vanished. His light-hearted tone dropped and was replaced with a low, serious tone. The switch, as quickly as Deedee's amusement had vanished to be replaced by a hot temper. Maybe it was a family trait. He took her silent condemnation into consideration; Jerome slid off the bed with one quick movement, and said, "You wanted me to ask what Galavan was planning, don't you?"
"Yes." Deedee answered. "He won't tell me. When I have asked, he answers like a politician—"
Jerome rolled his eyes, "I know, I know. You hate politicians. Add that to the list of lawyers, doctors, psychiatrists, journalists, cops—"
"Don't antagonize me, Jerome," Deedee said irritably.
"You're not a people person, it's okay." Jerome said affectionately. "You know that those five occupations are most likely to employ pure psychopaths? Now that's a fact."
Deedee stared at him. Oh…He was fucking with her.
"Arkham's really made you see the funny side of life, hasn't it?" she drawled, unable to stop the corner of her mouth tugging into a small smile.
"Arkham brings out the best of us, I imagine. Part of its rustic charm, I suppose," Jerome said. "See, here's what I do know."
He clapped his hands together.
"Since you've left—kidnapped, resigned, or released, it really doesn't matter at this point; it's moot—you've been killing people." Jerome said, as if issuing a progress report. "A lot of people. Which I did mean it, by the way; I did enjoy my present that you left at Arkham's door. Laura's head, that was a nice touch. Her face was a nice…What's the painter's name with the pieces mixed up—?"
"Picasso…" Deedee said, watching him.
"Yes. That one. Very pretty." Jerome said. "I actually think she looked better that way than what she did before. Anyway, you've been killing people all around Gotham. The Circus, though." He smiled. "The camera footage, chef's kiss. The big tent going up in flames, beautiful. And the outfit—Let's talk about that."
He was animated, excited, not exactly concerned about Galavan at all. He was happy to see her again, and Deedee wondered if she was too concerned about Galavan and his schemes to actually connect to Jerome's presence. She had wanted to tell him about how she had been kidnapped; but he had seen it. She had wanted to tell him that because Galavan was a politician, she didn't trust him and Jerome should know that. But none of it actually mattered. Not really.
Jerome's fixation was she.
On the note of interest and his dark eyes unblinking as he sauntered from the bed, Deedee felt her cheeks blush and her stomach turn with awakened butterflies as Jerome interlined a finger along the thin strap of her tank top. She felt his eyes linger along the little dip of the waistline of her short, red shorts. Deedee licked her bottom lip, idly feeling the brush of his hand against her shoulder, her mouth suddenly dry at the small gap of space between them as her back met the bedroom door.
"I get why you're concerned about Galavan; we'll table that for now. That's business for later. However," said Jerome quietly in his familiar low drawl, "I shift my priorities as I see fit. And you're it."
A graze from his fingers as he dropped his hand from her shoulder to her shallow breaths of her chest. A momentary silence between them as Jerome idly passed a hand along the side of her stomach and hooked into the soft elastic of her shorts.
"Guess you like the costume change?" Deedee asked playfully, attempting the same casualty as her brother, but Jerome would have been remiss if he didn't notice the cut of dryness in her voice. His touch was gentle, but it felt too long since movie night that anyone had gotten so close. Except perhaps Tabitha.
"It's a sweet little number," Jerome replied. "Whose idea was this? Yours or Galavan's…? Ooh," he smirked, "or better yet, was it Tabitha's?"
Deedee seized his plying fingers by his wrist, pulling him away slightly. A thin smile veiled by jealousy, "Got a thing for Tabby, hm?"
Jerome shook his head, raising his hand to Deedee's pointed chin. "I'm not interested in her. Besides, I think she's the type that wants to dominate. It would never work." He said in lamented playfulness. "You know why, too, don't you? Go on and tell me why it wouldn't work between Tabitha and me, Sister."
When she remained silent, Jerome suddenly grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the door, echoing a small cry of what could have been mistaken as fear but they both knew that it was more feral than actual terror. Deedee winced when her head hit the wood. Deedee seized his wrist, and his grip tightened around her neck pointedly,
"Oh, you've already forgotten how we play, Deedee." Jerome growled, leaning his head against the door, his mouth against the shell of her ear; his voice was low, sending chills down her spine. Goosebumps. "Tell me why."
Deedee's face broke into a grin, "You like to be the boss."
Jerome released her throat, gaining a small inhale of breath from Deedee, and he growled, "That's right. I'm the boss."