Haly's Circus ~ Jerome x reader

25: Bruce Wayne

"You two, break the windows on the other side of the house." I whisper, loudly. Kevin and some other dude I don't remember the name of, do as I say. I don't know a lot of names of these cultmembers, but this one helped me find Dwight and Luna back when I needed to see them work on Jerome's body. Luna had "somewhere to be" and didn't want to distract us, so she'll be the one to come and pick us up with her car the moment we call her. Probably on a date with this supposed to be hot guy she picked out of the group. We're far from being done, we are just getting started.

Jerome looks very clumsy. He didn't want our suits to be revealed to Bruce just yet, and he didn't want them to get dirty. Never asked if he meant actualy dirt from this garden or blood. So we're both wearing these goofy white suits where I have no idea Jerome got them from. Never asked that either. I'm squeezing his hand the moment we get inside of the house, into the kitchen to be precisely. He's squeezing it back and holding his finger over his mouth to tell the others to shut the fuck up when they're using the knives to show off to each other.

Got to admit that they frequently are louder than they need to be. The floor is creaking when we're halfway throughout the house. Jerome feels the need to laugh about it but covers his mouth just in time. My stomach aches, my laugh almost bursting out too, and here we are. Most proffesional kidnappers in the entire universe. Jerome makes weird noises as he laughs and I crumble onto the floor. He needs to give me a hand in order for me to be able to even stand up at all.

We move on quickly and decide to part ways as we're standing infront of the infamous work room of one Thomas Wayne. Bruce likes to sit here, and as we've seen through the window he's here right now as well. Together with his butler. Jerome and I nod to each other. I tiptoe around the room to get to the other door and open it just the slightest bit. Lucky for me, this door doesn't creak and it gives me the time to crawl slowly toward the butler. What was his name again?
Right, Alfred. Who the fuck calls their kid Alfred?

The couch breaks off Bruce's sight from down here. Alfred's hand is reaching for the phone, and that's the exact moment I realize he knows I'm sitting here, he turns around but I'm quicker than him, giving him quite the smack in the face.
"Alfred!" Bruce whines.
"Ah-oh, guess the old butler's reflexes aren't so good anymore after all." I call, facing Bruce. The cultmembers behind me make their way into the room. Fully weaponed. Bruce knows he and his butler stand no chance.

Jerome makes one hell of an entrance into the room. He widens his arms, does that sexy deep laugh of his and says: "Woooohhhh...." Like he's some kind of ghost. I need grab hold of the couch to not run toward him and grab his face and kiss him and do more...

Jerome's voice brings me back to life again. "My my... Look how big you've gotten." He bends over to look Bruce straight in the eyes. For once, I wish I was Bruce in that moment. Okay, focus now,
Y/n.

Jerome laughs even deeper now. Oh God, focus. Focus focus focus focus-
One of the cultmembers starts throwing with treasures made of glass. More of them follow him up. It's becoming a great chaos, and my instinct says I will need to watch Bruce and Alfred very closely by now. I crawl under the table they're sat hidden aswell. "You okay?" Bruce asks his butler. "I'll be fine master Bruce, I'll be fine." I scoff. Master Bruce, sounds like Bruce is some old wise man.
"Bruce, can you tell me what date it is?" I ask, acting all dumb as if I don't know what it is. (It's August 7th, for the record).

They both stare at me for a minute.
"Manner's, Bruce! Don't keep a lady waiting... Now tell me, what date is it?"
He swallows and holds onto Alfred's arm.
"August 7th. Why?" Alright, alright, he wants to keep playing it cool. Attaboy.
"Well, you might wanna think about it. Wouldn't that be the perfect date to have on your grave?" His mouth opens, but before he can say anything his attention is by Jerome lighting the fireplace.

"Nice place you got here! You rent?" He says. Kevin stands by my side. "It's your job to keep an eye on them." I crawl out of under the table. "And point your gun at them, don't be too sloppy." He smiles at me. "Ofcourse, miss Valeska."

One day. One day I'll be able to call myself by Jerome's surname.

Bruce doesn't answer Jerome. "What do you want." More like a statement rather than a question.
"Attitude." Jerome announced. His gaze shifts from Bruce to Alfred.
"Teenagers am I right?" Alfred blinks at him. "Oh, I remember those days. So many exciting new emotions floating through ya, wanting to kill everyone you saw. Wanting to do more than kissing with your girlfriend, but- obviously you couldn't. Because of your selfish whore of a mother who didn't allow you to do anything." The last words he yelled. Not particularly at one of us, just him thinking it out loud.

His gaze softeners when he meets mine.
"That's the real reason teenagers kill their parents." He almost mouths to me.
"You," I point at Bruce. "You lost your parents at a young age didn't ya? How does it feel, someone random taking the oppertunity away from you to kill your own parents?" Jerome laughs at me. "I would never. I loved my parents, and your dad,
Y/n, he loves you very much." My brows jump. "No, he loves the idea of loving me. He'd never shown intrest in me."

Bruce breaks the eye contact first.
"You, gimme." Jerome commands to one of the cultmembers. It's an owl made of glass he's weighing in his hands. "Y'know I will never understand rich people's taste."
"It's worthless, my father found it at the flee market." Bruce lies. "I keep it for sentimental reasons."
"Nice try. Oh it's got some heft to it. Expensive I'm guessing. It'd be such a shame if I-" Dropped it. Jerome drops the owl onto the carpet. Only the second time, he drops it into the fireplace and then it manages to shatter.

"I asked you what you want!" Bruce stands up, his posture showing shock and frustration. "Isn't that obvious?" Bruce turns to me. "We're here to kill you, then take your money."
"Why?"

"Well, it's one of the last things I ever remembered wanting to do. It's been nagging at me since I woke up." Jerome reveals his pocket knife. He gags on his own spit, he's been doing that since the wounds around his larynx.
"The idea of slitting that pretty, pink throat of yours... Figured that'll clear the deck's. What d'ya think huh?" His voice deepens. It cracks too. My heart skips a few beats. How is he able to do that to me? Alfred shouts something inaudible for me due to his british accent.

Jerome's knife comes closer to Bruce's throat. "I remember that night." He says, most likely to distract Jerome's mind.
"Don't remember me, Bruce," I say. "You probably want an audience for your death like back then. Don't worry, we won't kill you right here," some of the cultmembers make an "ahw" noise as if they can't wait a bit longer. Jerome smiles widely, like the devil stands infront of Bruce. Bruce doesn't flinch. Even though Jerome's knife is now close enough to...

"Ahh but Y/n, my fingers are trembling. The urge to just-" Jerome rolls his head back.
"No but's, Jerome. Think about the cult."
He jumps on the couch. "What do you want, Bruce. Flair? Style, hm? Go on, boy. Spit it out, I can take it."
"I'm Bruce Wayne."
"I'm aware."
"I am the ruling's lead. My company is the machine that keep the cogs of Gotham running. Killing me should mean something and you're telling me no one is gon' want to see it?" Bruce yells in Jerome's face. Got to admit, this kid's got some balls.

"Look, I know you're just trying to buy yourself some time, so you can escape. But your point is still valid." Jerome whispers, holding Bruce's neck with his left hand. "Sail up boys and girls, we're taking the show up the road and we got just the perfect spot." Cultmembers start making their way back to the trucks outside.
"Ah-ah-ah. Not you old chap. The prince of Gotham deserves a public death. His butler? Not so much. Kill him." Kevin loads his gun. "Try not to get any blood on the couch, might come back for that." Jerome grabs my hand and pecks me on the lips. Alfed tries to calm Bruce down, just before he's getting taken. Jerome, still holding my hand, is making his way to Luna's car, she's gonna drive.

A few minutes later Jerome's hand is rubbing the inside of my thigh. He likes that spot. I wonder why.
"You did great, princess." He kisses my temple. I notice a raw piece of skin next to his wound in his neck, and softly touch it to see if it's still attached to him. It is, so I decide to kiss him there again. His eyes close and his breathing slows down a bit.
"You did great too, ginger." I keep kissing his neck until we arrive. Silently, ofcourse. Didn't want Luna to make a scene about it.

"Alrighty loverbirds. We're here."