Toast and Time Management
Being arrested by James Gordon was the last thing Jeremiah expected to occur that night. He was fairly confident that he'd died when he detonated the bomb in his bunker. Even if that hadn't done the job, he imagined that one of the criminals stuck on the streets would finish him off. So, suffice it to say, he was shocked to hear the click of a standard-issue GCPD handgun behind him as he sat in the abandoned building and pondered the night's events. It simply hadn't been a variable in his calculations.
"Jeremiah Valeska, you're under arrest. You know your rights, but if it were up to all of the remaining officers, you wouldn't receive any. Stand up and slowly turn around. Don't make any attempts to escape."
He did as the police captain commanded, saying "Jim, you know as well as I do that attempting to escape would only get me shot. Between the distance, your aim, and my movement speed, the probability of my success is extremely low. And I do have a fondness for saving my own skin. I will do as you say."
Jim didn't answer him, and instead just fastened a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. He led him out to the parking lot and allowed him to situate himself in the backseat before getting in himself. As they drove, Jeremiah did what he did best. He planned. And by the time they arrived at the police department, he had his course of action for the next two weeks set.
…
Sunlight filtered through the white satin curtains of Bruce's room. The slant of light falling on his face woke him from a pleasant dream, which he forgot as soon as he awoke. Or perhaps it was the rather loud snoring coming from the red-haired boy sleeping in his desk chair.
Bruce checked to make sure he went to bed wearing clothes, and was relieved to find on the same jeans and sweater he wore yesterday. He stood up, walked over to the desk, and shook Jerome. The teen woke abruptly and attempted to hit him, but Bruce was prepared this time. He jumped back as Jerome's fist swung by, avoiding it.
"I feel bad for anyone that ends up sharing a bed with you. They'd have to wear protective armor all night just avoid getting pummeled if they accidentally move around too much." Bruce's words were harsh but he was smiling.
"Old habits die hard. I'm not used to being woken up gently by brunette angels. That's the sorta thing ya gotta let a guy adjust to, y'know?" Jerome lounged back in the chair. He crossed his arms behind his head and yawned. "I'm just lucky your window was unlocked, because I'd bet a pretty penny your butler would shoot me on sight. And I don't wanna do the whole death thing again. It's too soon. 'Specially at the hands of another old guy in a suit."
Bruce didn't know how to take the comment about Alfred, so he focused on a different part of what he said. "Angels, huh?"
"Well, you've saved me more times than you'd like to admit. And anyone who goes out of their way to protect a...unique citizen like me ought to be some sort of angel. Either that, or you're just as crazy as I am." He grinned at his last statement.
"Or maybe I'm just compassionate."
"Extreme compassion is definitely a form of masochism. And extreme masochism borders on insanity."
"Well, you would know all about that," Bruce muttered under his breath.
"Is Bruce Wayne kink-shaming me right now? That's one for the books, my friend."
He laughed for what felt like the first time in weeks, even if it had only been hours. It cleared his head and made him feel lighter than before. Finally, he was able to get out a response. "I don't think you know your own kinks well enough to feel ashamed for them."
"It's a very long list, Bruce, and I'd rather not scar your vanilla ears. Besides, I'm a go-with-the-flow kinda guy. The list grows and changes. For example, sometimes I'm into hitting other people and sometimes I like being hit. The little things, y'know?"
For some reason, Bruce found this intriguing. "Explain it to me."
"Explain what to you?"
"How it works."
"Brucie, I don't think I'm the one who should give ya the birds and the bees talk."
He hit Jerome's shoulder. He had no idea where the sudden bravery was coming from. "No, idiot. Not that. What turned you into a person with...specific tastes?"
Jerome raised an eyebrow but decided not to comment on his interest. "A dangerous mix of seeing too much, hearing too much, and probably experimenting too much. A guy picks up some funny things when he has to watch his mom bang clowns every day. Or when he becomes a toy for the trapeze boys. Or when the knife-thrower decides to use a ginger target. Again, it's the little things."
"So, you like boys, clowns, and knives. It all makes sense now," Bruce teased.
"Hey, it's not the worst combination in the world. What about you? What does little vanilla Bruce Wayne enjoy? Bathing in his endless amounts of cash? Breakfast in bed? Pretty girls in tight leather like the one across the hallway?"
The last question surprised Bruce. "How do you know about Selina?"
"Do you really think I would crash here without checking out my surroundings first? I'm not the most tightly-screwed in light bulb, Bruce, but I'm not an idiot. By the way, uh, somebody broke a vase downstairs. Looked kind of expensive. I, um, bet that person is very sorry but doesn't know how to...express it."
"Okay, two things. One, it's okay. It's just a vase. I can buy another one, so that really obscure, unidentifiable person who's apparently sorry but can't express it is forgiven. Two, Selina's been a friend of mine for a long time. You met her once at the charity ball. Or maybe you just saw her, I can't remember."
"Like, one of those friends you sleep with or an actual friend? 'Cause it took me a while to learn the difference. Plus, everything premortem is a bit fuzzy."
Bruce rolled his eyes. "An actual friend. And isn't premortem a business tool used to circumnavigate a project failure?"
"I meant before death, nerd. If after death is postmortem, then before death would be premortem. Obviously. I dunno about your office bullshit but I know I'm right."
"Okay, Jerome, whatever you say. I have to go make sure Selina gets breakfast. She gets sort of cranky otherwise. You stay here and don't break anything. I'll bring up some toast when I know what Alfred's plans are for the day."
"Does the toast mean that you forgive me for being an ass last night?" Jerome asked the question like he didn't care one way or the other, but once again, Bruce could see through him.
"If I didn't forgive you, I wouldn't let you stay in here. While I'm downstairs, you can use the bed. I know that chair isn't very comfortable."
Jerome hopped up as soon as he said that and sat on the edge of the king-sized mattress. He looked like he was in heaven. This brought a pang of sadness to Bruce. The last decent bed Jerome had slept on was probably the one he used in Theo Galavan's penthouse before he shot him. And before that? He most likely slept on the couch of his mother's trailer, based on the description of the place in his file. The sympathy caused him to stroke Jerome's shoulder as he walked out of the room, receiving a surprised look from the boy. He shut and locked the oak door, hoping his was the only key.
Downstairs, Selina was already at the counter. The smell of frying eggs and sizzling bacon filled the room. Alfred was standing by the oven, keeping a close eye on the stovetop. "Good morning, Master B. It's good of you to join us; I was wondering if you were going to wake up before noon." Bruce glanced at the clock hanging above the stove and realized it was already past eleven. He hadn't woken up this late in months.
Selina chimed in with a very sweet, "Morning, loser. Take a seat." She patted the stool next to her and sipped from a glass of milk.
"Morning, guys. Sorry I'm up so late. I didn't realize what time it was." He sat down by Selina. Alfred set a steaming cup of black coffee in front of him.
"I'm only teasing, Master Bruce. As you can see by the breakfast cooking in front of you, we all had a late start this morning." He began serving them eggs, bacon, and golden-brown toast.
They ate in silence for awhile. Bruce broke it by asking, "Did you get in touch with Jim, Alfred?"
"Yes. He'd like to see you this afternoon."
"I'll drive over there around two. What will you be doing?"
"We didn't have much time when I went to get Selina, so we'll drive to her 'apartment' to gather her things. And then, if you'll allow me, Miss Kyle, we can go shopping for a bit more of an extensive wardrobe. We may have to go outside of Gotham however; I don't know what state the city's currently in."
She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. "You're taking me shopping?"
"If that's alright, yes."
Selina shrugged. "Cool."
"Excellent. We'll probably leave after breakfast. Will you be staying here, Master B?"
Bruce nodded. "I don't want to miss my meeting with Detective Gordon. And besides, after last night, I have plenty of work to do. I need to look over some blueprints and talk to the head of the bridge-reconstruction project. However tragic the event was, it's a good opportunity for replacing the older models with something more structurally sound. I hope you guys have a good time, though."
Alfred began to clear their plates and wash them. "And you as well, sir."
Selina dragged him aside to the hallway as they stood up.
"What is it?"
"Are you sneaking out to flirt with a ginger psychopath?"
He blushed. "Actually, surprisingly enough they both show more sociopathic tendencies. They have emotions, they just struggle to display them properly. And...that may be a part of my schedule today. We'll see as the day goes on."
She rolled her eyes and gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder. "You're even crazier than they are. Should I even ask which one you're seeing today?"
"Jerome." He answered immediately. "I'm still kind of pissed at Jeremiah, honestly."
"Just kind of? He killed thousands of people, Bruce."
"I know that. Which is why I'm angry with him. But...I don't know. I can't explain it to you. I should just cut him off completely but something's stopping me from doing it. He says stuff and it...it messes with my mind. I think I just need to wait for my head to be a bit clearer on the matter, that's all."
"I think taking some time with him is a smart choice." Alfred called her name from the kitchen. "I gotta go. Have fun, I guess. Don't get killed." She gave him a hug and hurried off towards Alfred, who also called goodbye to him before leaving for the garage.
Bruce figured that, since they were both gone, he could bring Jerome downstairs and pray he doesn't break anything too obvious. So, after grabbing a stack of toast from the counter, he rushed up the stairway and unlocked his bedroom door quietly.
He was greeted by the sight of Jerome curled up on his bed hugging a pillow and snoring lightly. Admittedly, it was kind of cute. Cute enough that Bruce felt bad waking him. So instead, he set down the toast and grabbed a notepad, a black pen, and a few diagrams lying about his desk and sat carefully down next to Jerome. He worked like this for about an hour, occasionally reaching over and stroking Jerome's silky red hair. He must use a rather specific haircare routine for a guy who lives in an asylum most of the time, he thought at one point.
As Bruce was looking over the notes he made about the structural integrity of city hall, a sleepy-sounding voice commented, "You draw pictures to go with all of your notes."
He turned his head to see a pair of green-blue eyes staring up at him. A lock of red hair had fallen into the middle of Jerome's forehead. Bruce hadn't seen him look this innocent since he worked under Gallavan. He was smiling lightly as he rubbed his eyes.
"It helps me remember what I'm talking about. I don't honestly take the best notes, so without the pictures, I'd probably forget what building they refer to. Besides, it's a nice break in between writing."
Jerome grabbed his hand, causing him to drop his pen, and rolled over. Bruce gasped as he was pulled down next to him. "Stop taking notes and cuddle me."
Bruce laughed but wrapped his arms around the older boy, holding him close against him. After a moment of hesitation, he nuzzled Jerome's neck, eliciting a happy hum from him. Bruce liked that. He wondered if he could get another noise by doing something else. This time, he didn't take so long to think. Bruce placed a gentle kiss on the side of his neck. Jerome seemed surprised, as he inhaled very quickly. That just encouraged Bruce, who placed his lips on Jerome's throat and continued to bring rather explicit noises from the boy against him. This went on for a couple of minutes. He could feel his heart rate pick up and suddenly Jerome turned back over. He connected his lips with Bruce's before he could even say anything.
This kiss was still frantic, but not nearly as blood-soaked as their last. It was also much more desperate. Apparently, Jerome's passion was greatly increased if you turned him on a bit beforehand. His hands were in Bruce's hair and he didn't waste any time in deepening the kiss. Their tongues danced as Bruce, experiencing this sort of lust for the first time, wrapped his legs around Jerome. He was gripping the sides of his shirt tightly, and this seemed to trigger something in the other teen. He pulled away from Bruce quickly, looking startled.
"What's wrong?" Bruce was confused.
"Nothing. I just...I can't control myself around you. Which is why, before one of us crosses a line, I need you to set boundaries with me. Yes, you're younger than me. But you're also much more mature and capable of doing so. I can't do it, as that just proved." Jerome was sitting up now, hugging his knees. It was at times like this that Bruce forgot how he looked with his manic facade on, because right now he looked very serious. And...angry with himself.
"You didn't cross any lines, though. I don't understand why you're so upset. It's not like I'm a child. You don't need to 'set boundaries' with me."
Jerome looked frustrated. "It's not you who's the problem, Bruce. I need you to set them with me."
"But you haven't done anything wrong."
"Since you're not getting the message, let me lay it out for ya, nice and clear. If it were up to me, you'd be pinned against that elaborate headboard making much worse sounds than the ones you were drawing outta me earlier." Bruce raised his eyebrows and Jerome saw his expression. "Exactly. Which is why I need you to draw the line somewhere. And make it very obvious. I don't do well in grayscale. I'm a full-color kinda guy."
"Jerome. I'm sixteen, and I'm probably the least delicate guy you could've picked. I could mention that it's completely legal, but I've never seen you care about legality, so why would you start now? And besides, I'd tell you if you somehow took things too far. Which you haven't."
The teenager sitting next to him gave him a look. Bruce sighed, but finally added "I'm not up for being pinned to the bed just yet. Pretty much anything beyond that is fine with me."
Jerome grinned. "'Just yet', huh? I'll keep an eye out for when that changes." His grin settled into a small smile. "Seriously though. I know it's a stupid conversation, but it's one I wanted to have. Thank you. You're probably the single thing on this planet I don't want to break, so I'm doing my best not to."
Bruce sat up too and leaned against him, placing his head on Jerome's shoulder. "Why do you hate the world so much?"
It was a complicated question, but the answer he received was very simple. "Because the world hates me."
He laced his fingers through Jerome's. "I don't hate you."
A smile. "Maybe that's why I like you so much. You're the first to ever say that to me, even though you have every right to hate me. Fate's such a twisted bitch, isn't she?"
"I don't believe in fate. But, I do believe in the idea that every choice you make leads to a series of choices throughout the world. Somehow, the choices I made and the choices you made led us both to this time and place. And that's even more fascinating to me."
"You're pretty poetic for a guy who can fight off a Strongman with half a pool stick," Jerome said, referring to that night in his uncle's diner.
"He would've killed me if it weren't for you. I don't condone the use of guns, but I'll admit that, if you hadn't shot him, I wouldn't be here."
"I've noticed that you're not a fan of the ol' cap buster. Why is that?"
"Do you want the sob-story reason or the legitimate reason?"
He ruffled Bruce's hair. "I think both of them are legitimate."
Bruce sighed, but said, "I've hated them ever since my parents were shot. The inhumanity of the entire ordeal made me prejudiced. They're extremely impersonal. Not enough people realize the consequences of the action they're about to commit if they murder while using a gun. But in any honest fight, I think they're a bit cheap. Any man can assume he's going to win if he just pulls out a pistol. It's a trump card. It feels like cheating. So, you can imagine the satisfaction it brings me to take down anyone holding a gun with just my hands. Which, I guess is an ego-boost for me. But, it's well worth it to see their shock and realize they have no backup plan."
Jerome turned his head to look down at Bruce. "That was a lot darker and more justified than I expected. Usually you ask somebody that question and all they say is 'They kill people'. Which I both agree with and disagree with. Guns enable people to murder, but we're also making that choice." Bruce noticed how he said "we're", but chose not to comment. "So, I'm impressed with you for having completely valid reasons."
He laughed. "Impressed with me? Wow, that's a big compliment coming from Jerome Valeska. I didn't think you were one to impress so easily."
"Oh that's easy, is it? Okay, what can you do that's apparently worth being impressed over?"
Bruce rolled on top of him. "I could think of a few things," he teased. Jerome's eyes got bigger as Bruce leaned down towards him...and started tickling him.
Jerome was gasping with laughter, trying to get words out. "You...little…shit!" He continued to giggle breathlessly until Bruce let up, also chuckling.
"If you were anyone else, I'd strangle you," Jerome said through the last of his giggles.
"But you like me too much, so I'm safe," Bruce said smugly, still straddling the older boy.
A mischievous glint entered Jerome's eyes. "Safe might be a strong word." He pulled Bruce closer to him and they kissed for the second time in the past hour. He felt Jerome smirk against his lips as his heart rate sped up. He briefly had time to wonder what the mischief coupled with the smirk meant before Jerome moved his lips from Bruce's. He began to slowly, agonizingly, trail kisses over to his ear. Then, he bit his earlobe and suddenly Bruce understood what Jerome had been planning. He apparently didn't react like Jerome expected him to because his smile disappeared as Bruce just wrapped his arms around his neck and let out a small sigh. Once again, something seemed to flip a switch in Jerome as he gave his earlobe one last nibble before kissing his way down Bruce's throat. He found a spot at the base of his neck that he seemed to like, as he spent a lot of time there, kissing and biting. He was fueled, just as Bruce had been earlier, by the sounds he pulled from the other boy. It finally became too much for Bruce as he guided Jerome back up to his lips. He reached his arms around Bruce's waist and under his shirt, trailing his fingers up and down his back. They stayed like this for awhile, Bruce wrapping red curls around his fingers and Jerome tracing shapes along his spine.
An alarming thought caused Bruce to pull away from Jerome. "Crap, what time is it?" he asked.
Jerome, although seemingly a bit disappointed that the moment was over, looked at the clock hanging across the room. "2:06, why, might I ask?"
"I said I'd be at the police department around two. I have a meeting with Jim. And I'm already very late." Bruce scrambled off of Jerome and over to his closet, where he picked out a sweater and jeans without really looking at them. He threw the shirt from yesterday onto the ground and hurriedly put on the new one. He did the same with his jeans. He turned back to the bed to grab his notepad where he saw Jerome peeking at him through his fingers.
He just shook his head and laughed. "You can uncover your eyes, it's fine. You're terrible at not looking, so seriously, don't bother next time."
Jerome crossed his arms. "I tried really hard, though!"
"Yes, good job." He gave him a sarcastic clap. "I have to go now. You can grab anything you want from the kitchen and pantry, there's toast on the desk, and you can use the television and radio. I should be back before Alfred and Selina, but if I'm not, just stay up here. Try not to break anything, please?"
He opened his mouth in mock offense. "What, you don't trust me?"
"You broke a vase last night. And the desk lamp. And my pen."
"They were fragile to begin with, it's not my fault."
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Sure. I'll see you later, okay?"
"What, no goodbye kiss? What if somebody sneaks in and kills me? Then how will we have any closure?"
He rolled his eyes once more but walked over to the bed and kissed Jerome on the cheek. "You get more if you fend off whoever is going to supposedly show up to kill you. Otherwise, that's just sad. You're a serial killer; I think you'll manage to stay alive for two more hours." He walked back over to the door, calling a rushed goodbye behind him. Once he was out the door, he ran down the stairs and through the rooms leading to his garage.
His Mustang was sitting there waiting for him in the shadows of the room. He unlocked the car and stepped inside. As any teenage boy with such a vehicle would do, he allowed himself a few revs of the engine before backing out of the building. Once more, he found himself racing down the streets of Gotham, now considerably emptier, towards the police department.