Your Ginger Housemate (Jerome Valeska X Reader)

9

Your eyes repeatedly flicked up to the clock on the wall. The hands were moving excruciatingly slow. It felt as if there was honey behind the glass of the clock, the hands shoving their way through at a snail pace. Today was the day. Both your parents were coming to Gotham to stay over for the weekend.  Were you thrilled? No. Absolutely not. Although this was the typical feeling one has towards there parents coming to visit, you were not one in a "normal" situation. Harbouring a criminally insane fugitive made any social interaction undeniably tricky of course, however not as awkward if it was out of your own will. Luckily, you did want to harbour Jerome Valeska, because despite all the crimes, chaos and death he had caused, you were falling for him... Even if that fall was because of a violent push.

You glanced at the clock once again - 8:50am. Still travelling painfully slow.

"Agh!" You let out a sound of frustration, wishing you could get everything over and done with. At this rate, this weekend would be a slow and agonising torture.

At that moment, Jerome had come around the corner. Abandoning his usual clothing of darker colours and preferred jacket (adorned in leather and buckles), and dressing down into to a more quiet attire on your request. Knowing your parents would never approve of someone who wore such amounts of what they would call "trouble clothing". Of course, you weren't really for the whole, 'introducing Jerome to your parents' idea, but he had left you no other choice. Despite your persistence on the matter, he was too hard-headed to see reason.

"Jerome, please! I can't introduce you. They can't know about you! What if... What if something comes their way? Newspaper, T.V..." He had put his hand over your mouth, giving you a crooked smile and raised an eyebrow.

"Y/n," he covered your mouth with his hand, and placed a finger over his lips, "shhh."

You scowled and crossed your arms, attempting to make him realise you were not mucking around. However, since he was freaking tall, it made it hard to be intimidating. He snorted at your attempt to be daunting,  

"Now, would you just relax. They find out... well, they found out. We can figure out how to deal with that later."

You didn't like his emphasis on 'deal' in that sentence. You wanted to retort. Tried to even, but his hand was still tightly clamped over your mouth, his finger encasing your jaw, ensuring you could not open your mouth in any shape or form. It caused your scowl to deepen and an irritated groan to come out of the back of your throat. However, Jerome quietly snorted and patted the top of your head.

"Tsk, tsk. You need to learn to lighten up doll." With that, he had let go of your jaw. As you had rubbed it gingerly and began to argue with him, but he was already up the stairs, whistling. Jerome knew he had won.

He was stubborn. So hard-headed you had to think of ways that would limit the amount of suspicion your parents would feel. These precautions included wardrobe changes (nothing too provocative of speculation) and his manner in both the way he spoke and carried himself.  You had had a long and eye-opening conversation with him about this.
You had finished talking, explaining to him that if he was going to stay over the weekend while your parents were there, they needed to take these precautions.

You had rehearsed in your head all afternoon. It was late now, you had both finished "parent proofing" the house of all his... belongings, and you had sat him down. Jerome had grown irritable. His movements eventually grew less swift and jerked more with every task he did. His jaw had set, and his voice dropped lower as time passed. He despised taking let alone following orders, and you had given him quite a few that evening. However, you had bravely asked, begged and reasoned with him, to do just one last thing for you and listen.

At first, he seemed ignorant, staring at you with hard, cold vexation. As you began to explain to him that his manner had to be, "Turned down a notch. And like, a big notch."

He relaxed, his expression becoming amused. This infuriated you. You were reasonable, and Jerome seemed to find it a joke. So you had started talking to your hands, not looking at him. When you had completed your proposal and looked up at him, you were shocked. Usually, with whatever he did, the ginger had an aura of confidence, defiance and unpredictability about him. It appeared to have disappeared, replaced with someone you had not seen before. No longer a cocky maniac, but a shy... boy. That's what he was at that moment. A boy. As you had blinked a couple times, your mouth slightly agape, he smiled. A small, crooked smile. A sheepish grin.

"Uh, i-is this what you're looking for?" He asked, tilting his head, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Yeah. Something like that," you stammered. Not knowing what you were witnessing.

It was like a switch. The swagger was back. Jerome was, once again, grinning broadly, like he had achieved a great accomplishment, or more likely, found a new game of manipulation.

"Great, because I can pull that off easy," his voice dropped and as did his head, showing impatience he seemed to hold for that particular persona, "just don't expect me to behave all the time." (You would have to find the cause of that later.)

Suddenly, he smiled and stood up, "I'm going to bed."

He was in such a good mood. He had changed from a menacing impatience to a complete cheeriness.
Of course, questions were going to be asked of both Jerome and yourself. It was unavoidable. They would rain down on you like relentless torrents of gunfire, each needing to be dealt with and dodged with precaution. You just hoped that everything would work out the way you wanted.

"Hey sweetcheeks, calm down. Jeez, thought you told me to calm it."

"Jerome. No."

"No don't calm down?" Or..." He was messing with you. Even though you were nervous beyond reason, he still found it funny to play with your emotions. Thinking about that, you lost it. Letting out your frustration, impatience and nerves in a relentless wave.

"Jerome Valeska, you know goddam well what I mean. Please shut the hell up and do what I - what we need you to do huh? Just, please, just this once, stop."

He looked at you, a smile playing on his lips, but his eyes seeming to hold a look of recognition and then concern.

"Hey, okay. I get it. Sorry. I will behave." The ginger stood up swiftly, and in a quick movement, saluted her. "I promise to be quiet and pitiful, M'am!" It worked, you cracked a smile. Jerome grinned at you, and sat back down, snaking his arm around your shoulders. "But seriously, would you relax? I would much prefer it if you did not have a nervous breakdown a minute before your parents arrive."

You whipped your head around and stared wide-eyed at the clock.

"Finally! Jerome, go into the other room or at least sit in the kitchen."

You saw his finger twitch slightly and his jaw clench. A typical reaction when he was told what to do.

"Hey, and please, do the, um, thing you did. Last night?"

"You got it toots," he said slyly. He had gotten you back. You told him what to do, and he found a way to put you on edge. He hadn't used that pet name before, but it certainly got to you. He knew it.

There was a knock on the door. The parents were here.