Chapter Text
Bruce looked at Jerome, smiling like nothing was happening on the other side of the table. What an asshole. He didn’t exactly have any choice and he had to eat eventually, he didn’t know how long he would be there, so he reluctantly picked up his fork-
“Ah, just a minute.”
Jerome stood again, grin widening in a way that Bruce knew never meant anything good. He grabbed the familiar little bottle off of the table, and Bruce felt a strange feeling in his chest seeing it. What was that-?
While he was trying to parse his own thoughts, Jerome slid up behind him, putting an arm around his waist. He knew, logically, it was to stop him from moving, but the grip made Bruce feel... weird. He popped the lip on the bottle and put it up under his nose, startling him out of his thoughts quick enough for him to hold his breath on instinct.
“Come on, Brucie, take a whiff,” He jostled him, pressing himself up against him all the more.
“I don’t think I will.”
“Oh, don’t be stubborn,” Jerome huffed, never losing his smile, ”I’ll even make you a deal. You take a breath, have breakfast, and I’ll let you do whatever you want.”
“Didn’t you make the same deal last night?” Bruce grimaced, his chest tightening as he used up his air to be petty.
“Yes, and I kept my end of the deal,” He tightened his grip, “Remember, kid? We watched the sunset like I asked and you decided to come with me.”
“I- but-” Bruce stammered, thinking back through last night to prove Jerome wrong, and he just. Couldn’t. He remembered agreeing to go back to the van, holding onto Jerome, running his hand- his hands-
He startled, taking a deep breath despite himself and that feeling in his chest from seeing the bottle shot straight to his head. It was weird. He didn’t- he didn’t feel different. He tried... tried to hold his, uhm. Fuck. something’s wrong? He wasn’t supposed to do... something.
“Everything alright?”
He looked up and Jerome was still holding on to him, smiling, nice. Nice. but, uh. He was upset with him? He was trying... to figure something out. Something. “Something... somethings wrong?”
“How can anything be wrong?” he’s sat back down in his seat, Jerome hovering over him, “Not when you’re in a beautiful cabin with a delicious breakfast. You like pancakes, don’t you?”
He does. He does like pancakes. And the cabin is really pretty. The food looks delicious. He nods... nods... nods..
"Oh fuck," Jerome pulls away and hes... colder... "forgot to put the cap back on."
He heard a little pop sound...
“You good, Brucie?” Jerome pulled his chin up to look him in the eyes, “You got a little more than I was planning to give.”
“Feels weird...” he murmured, eyes distant, trying to focus on Jerome’s, “Thinking...” It was so warm.
“Wonderful.” Jerome pulled away and... suddenly the warmth was gone. He tried reaching back out for him and almost fell out of his chair.
“Alright, Brucie, calm down.” He heard a little shuffle and the warmth was back. Jerome came to sit beside him, supporting him from his own seat. “Well, let’s dig in.”
Bruce nodded and he ate.
It was... good. Warm and sweet and filled him up. He felt good, good, good. It took him a second to realise he’d finished his food, staring down into the pool of syrup on his plate. And Jerome was talking.
“-ood?”
... huh?
“It’s good, right?” Jerome asked, holding his chin so he would look at him, “The pancakes. So nice and soft?”
“Yeah, it’s good,” he nodded, because it was true.
“Don’t you think you should thank me?”
That... uh... “Thank you,” it was... the polite thing to do. Even if something felt weird. It was good. Jerome... did good. The pancakes are so good...
“You’re welcome, Brucie,” He smiled, wide and bright and Bruce can't help staring at him. He’s always smiling... like he’s happy... should he be.. Uhm... happy?
“Yeah, Brucie, It’s time to be happy, now.” Time to be... happy. Time to be happy. Ah...
Bruce smiled back, it wasn’t hard. He was... happy. As happy as he had been in a while. Why wasn’t he smiling before? was... was he upset... before?
“Come on, kid, no need to start thinking,” Jerome tutted, and any attempt at logic stopped in his head, “Just feel good.”
"Feel good..."
He was feeling good.
Jerome moved them away from the table and stood him up, holding Bruce close to his chest, “Alrighty, kid, I’m gonna give you a choice. Do you wanna go outside? Or do you wanna stay in?”
Out or in. out or in. He was quiet for a long minute, playing the choices in his head. Out, in, one, two, left, right. He was swaying unconsciously. “Uhm... in...”
Jerome laughs and it’s... pretty. Something inside him says that's bad, but he can’t understand why... Bruce can feel the rumbles in his chest when he talks but he’s not really taking it in just. Feeling it. Jerome reaches down to wipe his face.
“Alright, Brucie, let's watch some movies!”
Jerome helped get him up and led him out to the living room, lightly dusted in, well, dust, but cozy enough to plop the prince of Gotham down on. He sat him down on the couch in front of the TV and got cozy next to him, flipping on the TV and looking through what they had.
“You seem like an opera kinda kid, but I’m not watching musicals,” Jerome smiled, pulling him in with a hand around his shoulder, ”But I also don’t think you’d be into my kinda films, not yet anyway.”
Bruce can hear him, understand him, kinda, but mostly the words drift past him. He’s watching Jerome’s hand, holding up the remote to meet the sensor, tendon flexing under skin as he navigates... whatever he's using. The screen is a blur of colour moving faster than he could register. Mostly, he’s watching Jerome’s hand. Big and... harsh. And there's always dirt under his nails.
By the time he’s settled on something to put it on, Bruce can feel himself sharpening up. It’s still hard to focus in on anything, but the colours and sounds passing by are nice. The main character seems... sweet. The romance is... romantic. After a while, he can remember the characters' names which has to be an improvement.
He feels like he’s coming back to himself, able to think better at least, but it’s making him tired. He’s tired... tired of thinking? He’s leaning against Jerome, head on his chest, and he knows that’s supposed to be bad, but he can't bring himself to do anything about it. He lets his eyes close, instead, and those thoughts fade into the back of his mind.
Jerome looked down at his little guest, just barely hanging on to consciousness against him. For such a smart kid, Bruce made this so easy.