Prompted by Rachel :)
You think he's got a beautiful laugh. Oh, you've told him time and time again, and he gives you this little look. Where he glances at you sideways through his ocean blue eyes, and ducks his head in a way that makes it seem that once, a very long time ago, Jerome Clarke was shy. His laugh is beautiful though, and a sound that you've heard so often since you were 11 years old that it brings about thoughts of pranks, and Trudy's exasperated annoyance, of Victor's booming voice, of comfort and safety and home.
You had been scared of the dark when she was younger, but upon coming here, you'd come to associate the creaks of the floorboards and hushed, urgent whispering, with merely Alfie and Jerome sneaking out at night to glue Victor's hat to his head. You still jumped whenever Jerome seemed to appear out of nowhere, but then he laughed, head tipping back gracefully, eyes closing, and you would feel safe again.
So now, as the two of you are wrapped up together in a blanket, watching Mrs Doubtfire, and Jerome can't bear to look at the screen anymore, because he's laughing so much, you just can't help yourself.
You lean over and kiss him.
And because his mouth's open, it's suddenly a lot more intimate than you thought it would be, and yet you don't care, because this is better than you could have ever dreamed of.
When you pull apart, Jerome doesn't laugh, he's just smiling softly, hands cradling your jaw "You spoil me, Jaffray," is all he says, as though every time you touch him is a gift. You blush prettily, turning back to the screen, unaware you've started a new tradition.
Now, every time you watch you a film together, whenever one of you laughs, the other gets to kiss them.
Needless to say, Jerome starts laughing a lot more.
(and maybe you do too)