Work Text:
Tired, blue boy walks my way
Holding a girls hand
That basic bitch leaves finally
Now I can take her man
Bruce wasn’t listening. It was clear he was distracted, index finger absently tracing over the lines of the blueprints. Yellow and blue. His finger would follow the blue, until it crossed over the yellow and followed that one, following the way it snaked through the prints. Big brown eyes so full of sorrow that it made Jeremiah’s heart ache. He wanted to know what could put such a frown on his tired blue boy’s face. He wasn’t meant to worry, that crease between his brows didn’t belong. But, the part that irked Jeremiah the most was his inability to read what caused it. Bruce hadn’t said anything, but Jeremiah wanted to know, needed to know, what had upset him.
“Bruce?” Jeremiah prodded gently, setting aside his pencil that had been scratching out equations to make sure the building ability to properly balance the weight were correct. He didn’t respond. Just continuing to follow the line. Jeremiah waited a moment, perhaps Bruce was thinking about his work. Recognizing the expertise and complexity involved. He always loved it when Bruce saw his work. It was like Bruce saw him through it. But when he still didn’t respond Jeremiah stepped away from the smaller prototype of his plans for the rebuilt Gotham, his darling prince’s city, and gently moved the paper Bruce was touching causing his finger to slide off the line he was following and to glance up at Jeremiah. How deep into his own thoughts was he to not hear him? He didn’t need to be there anymore. Jeremiah was right here, speaking to him. He could feel his chest constrict as Bruce ignored him. His fingers tingling, wanting Bruce to pay attention to him. Only him. His words. His Eyes. HIM!
“Oh, yes?” This soft expression and with the way his eyes shone and face was flushed it was clear he was upset, enough to have been on the verge of crying. Jeremiah didn’t want him to be crying, he much preferred when Bruce’s thoughts were focused on him. He wouldn’t cause Bruce to cry like this. No, when Bruce cries because of Jeremiah they will be beautiful, a lovely pink flush and the tears to make his eyes sparkle. This crying was splotchy and messy, the tears flooding the lower lash line, so close to cascading over. Jeremiah wanted to fix this.
“You’re distracted.” Jeremiah wasn’t sure how to approach him. Even after spending so much time together he continuously found himself at a loss for the correct way to approach certain topics, and Bruce’s sadness was one of those topics. He understood that when the anniversary of his parent’s death came upon them. Why Bruce was hesitant to be around others, not wanting to leave the manor so Jeremiah came to him. He understood why he was hesitant to be around others in times of emotional vulnerability, but he and Bruce weren’t just people. They were connected in a way no one else understood. That’s why when he had gone over that day Bruce had hugged him so tight as if he was trying to crawl his nails into his back to grasp at his soul. To bound them so deep that their souls merged.
“My apologies, Miah.” Bruce put on a tense smile, “Selina hadn’t stayed for breakfast a week ago, and at the time I thought it was nothing, but she still hasn’t come back around.” Stayed for breakfast. Did she sleep there? Sleep with him?! He tried to repress the twist feeling of his stomach, ignoring how his bone ached to poke out of his skin like a porcupine defending itself. Based on Bruce’s sardonic smile, he could tell the way that Jeremiah wished to rip out both of their intestines and tie them together. Forever bound by him, nothing impure about their union. Only them. They were their own purity.
It was like once he opened his mouth to confide in Jeremiah about his worries he couldn’t stop. Like he had lost his usual control of his own voice. Every worry he had about Selina pouring out, about her health, and her inability to open up. Everything Jeremiah never wanted to hear he heard.
Someone told me stay away from things that aren't yours
But was he yours, if he wanted me so bad?
“He spoke of her too much. Selina this, Selina that! Can’t he see the work I put into this! Can’t he see?!” Jeremiah growled as he paced around the office. White hands twisting. The blue veins are too prominent with the strange new skin. He’s been so obvious with his affections previously, and now Bruce has the audacity to ignore him in exchange for some, some cat? He’s gone so far out of his way to include Bruce in his life. He spent countless nights planning the rebirth of his beloved city. He was the one putting in the work! He was the one who created a safe space for Bruce to be himself, not stop masquerading as some regular blue blood! Showing him that the outside world means nothing. He’s not the one leaving him behind, or turning his back on him at the first sign of trouble. Bruce needs to finally realize that he doesn’t love her, no matter what he may think. Their hearts are calling out to each other. They are the ones who are meant to be together, not her. That cat is merely a minor interference.
He needed Bruce to see who was actually there for him, maybe the best solution would be to cut that annoying little cat out of his life. Clearly, he needed some assistance. Bruce needn’t ever worry about her, never need to wonder what she is up to. She’ll be rotting.
“Boss.” It was Ecco’s voice that pulled him from the red haze that overran his thoughts. The anger that boiled in his blood. He could practically feel the skin burning from the inside out sizzling and melting off his bones, muscle splitting open. He couldn’t afford to be blinded, however. The cool water that Ecco had brought in was an unwanted reminder of how much he had drunk after wishing Bruce a safe drive home. How the burning of his skin mirrored the burning of his throat. The warmth wasn’t just the anger, it was fueled by alcohol. He hadn’t even realized he drank as much as he had, simply pouring more whenever his glass got empty. From the look of the bottle he may have well have just poured one glass and drank straight from the bottle.
“Go make me that frozen pizza in the freezer, please.” Jeremiah rubbed his eyes glancing around at his office that had been destroyed by his angry burst. Ecco had taken care of a drunken Jeremiah enough times to be aware of how the night would go. She wouldn’t be able to leave until maybe two am, if he slowed down on the drinking, or she would end up needing to stay later because he did continue drinking, and would then drunkenly tell her about Bruce and his plans, and she would need to entice him to leave the office so he wouldn’t mess up any of his plans, which has occurred before. To say hungover Jeremiah was more than anger would be an understatement.
He needed to do something about this Selina situation. She needed to realize that she was of no real importance to Bruce, needed to remind Bruce he needn’t worry himself over the lives of those beneath him.
She's getting on my nerves
You don't love her
Stop lying with those words
Jeremiah walked into the manor. It wasn’t the first time he had been here, but it has been the first time without explicit permission from Bruce. He hated how much he was working himself up; waiting in Bruce’s office for him to get back home, he and Selina had gone to lunch and longer Jeremiah waited the angrier he got. He sat legs crossed, eyes blankly staring at the bookshelves, but he couldn’t count anymore spines. Normally counting had kept his thoughts at bay, he could just numb his mind, but it didn’t work. Couldn’t work with the mental image of the two sharing hushed conversations, with her flirtatiously laying her hand on his arm-
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Selina. A sour taste spread across the back of his tongue at the thought of her name. Bruce’s name was a soothing balm usually, but not with the thoughts of him following Selina, it made his name feel like a too cold shower. His skin not knowing what to do and just panicking and sending his brain every pain signal to make it stop, but how could Jeremiah ever give up Bruce. He had an addiction. Something Jeremiah could never let go. The first one to see him as a separate force of his brother, but still see him as something that can be powerful. He wasn’t the weak twin in Bruce’s eyes. He was Jeremiah Valeska, the engineer, the man who could help Gotham. Jeremiah Valeska, his friend. The first time Bruce had mentioned that he thought of Jeremiah as a friend he was so taken aback his heart screamed in pain for a moment with how overjoyed he was - skipping a beat he realized later.
“Oh, Jeremiah?” Bruce brought him from his thoughts. Turning from the bright red damaged spine that he had absently stared at for who knows how long Jeremiah noticed a small cat standing behind him, a furious look in her face. Jeremiah wouldn’t mind removing it. Tearing the muscle from the bone, presenting his bloody skull and lamenting about the value of life, on if his life truly had any value before Bruce entered. He hadn’t realized how stuck in his own mind he was until Bruce came. Until Bruce reminded him that living wasn’t surviving, but it was seizing the moments, doing things you enjoy because you enjoy them. He brought life back into his projects. His workroom slowly became cluttered with small ideas and mazes simply because he enjoyed making them, not just because he needed to do something with his hands.
“Bruce, I’m sorry for having intruded; Alfred let me in.” He stood, buttoning his jacket. Bruce’s eyes latched onto the movement. The way Jeremiah’s head tilted higher than usual, how his eyes linger just to the left of his face. Something was wrong. Something had blocked the usual freedom in which they spoke, and the only change was Selina’s presence, but she had finally come inside and he thought they would finally be able to talk. While Jeremiah did lean towards a more formal approach when they were at the Manor, he had never avoided Bruce's eyes, he hadn’t put on the false bravado that Bruce had seen him use when on the call with contractors.
“It’s not a problem,” Bruce dismissed before looking back at Selina, “Can you please inform Alfred that we would like some coffee and to include some creamer.” It was a small thing from Bruce to remember and that was exactly why it made Jeremiah’s skin crawl. He never wanted the coffee to not linger on the back of his tongue, but the creamer helped protect his teeth, and the better care of his teeth he took the less likely he would need to go to the dentist. Jerome had wanted to play dentist a few too many times when they were kids; sometimes he could still feel his finger in his mouth, stretching his lips into a strange smile, his lips cracking as the thick irony taste coated his tongue.
“Has something happened?” He was so adorably concerned, but maybe that was concern for her. Maybe he thought Jeremiah would turn into Jerome, kill his precious little cat. Bruce was just concerned about her. HER! Why wouldn’t he acknowledge that she is unimportant? That he doesn’t need anyone besides him? He couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped. Crawled its way out against his will, such a fragile sound revealing how broken his mind was becoming at the continuous thoughts of Selina trying to claw her way in.
“What do you think, Bruce?” He strode closer, entering his space, but not quite able to bring himself to touch him. He wished he could, maybe that would put his mind at ease. It had been an internal war lasting a majority of the night to let Ecco talk him into speaking with Bruce before doing anything too extreme. Framing Selina for a few burglaries wasn’t too extreme by any means. The little cat burglar had gotten herself into worse trouble without his assistance, “Perhaps I’m not especially fond of how you’re worrying yourself over someone as insignificant as Selina Kyle.”
“She’s my friend, Jeremiah” The warning tone in his voice hurt worse than the words. Why couldn’t Bruce understand that she wasn’t worth his energy?
“She treats you like nothing more than a credit card. A nice place to crash for a night.” A half step closer, eyes desperately searching for… something. For some proof the Bruce isn’t that oblivious to her ruthless manipulation. His hand hesitantly rose, fingertips gently running along his cheekbone. His eyes so focus on the slightest flush, unaware of how Bruce’s eyes squeezed close, before blinking open again.
“Jeremiah, I sincerely hope that you’ll open up a little. She’s not using me.” He grabbed his hand, thumb pressing warningly against his palm. A smile curling on Jeremiah's lips as the poorly cloaked threat. The dangerous edge only made Jeremiah want to hold him more. Make him want to force Bruce to see that they are meant for each other, not him and Selina. Jeremiah was here. He was here. Why couldn’t Bruce wrap that pretty little head around that.
It was a poorly thought out decision, Jeremiah will admit that. But he doesn’t regret it, not as Bruce pushed at his chest and tried to pull away, but only for a moment. It was just a moment of fighting, of push back, before he melted. Or maybe Jeremiah melted. Perhaps both had been weakened by the other, and the warmth provided of two hearts perfectly in sync finally having a way to connect. The way Bruce’s hand shifted to interlock their fingers. How his free hand that had been a fist at his side hesitantly rose to briefly curl into his hair, before being pulled out.
Nothing could match the true fury of when the hand that had been on Bruce neck, that had pulled him into a viciously soft kiss, of teeth clashing and bodies melting, had been pulled off by the hand that should’ve been in his hair. All because he felt it absolutely impertinent to address the surprised gasp and clattering of dishware. Even as Bruce turned his head to look at the doorway where Selina stood, no doubt, Jeremiah didn’t step away, staying perfectly within Bruce’s personal bubble. He was entirely comfortable with the invasion. Glad to be able to show her who Bruce really belonged to. Who he was supposed to be with. Just as he would relish the idea of Bruce possessively entering his space to show whoever he deemed necessary to show that he was Bruce’s. HE would always welcome his invasion into his space. Just as he HAD welcomed Bruce’s invasion into his space through the budding relationship.
“Selina!” Bruce’s hand tightened on Jeremiah’s. The thumb had been quick to move as the finger interlaced as they were always meant to be, started to rub anxious circles on his knuckle, “My apologies, we had, um” He sheepishly looked at the floor searching for a word, when Jeremiah helpfully supplied, “Got caught up in the heat of the moment, I’m sure you understand how it is.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Jeremiah could pick up on the sarcasm, easily dismissing it as her jealousy, rather than the pointed way she said it to Bruce, “But I guess you got this covered Bruce, I’ll leave you to it.” The irritation in Selina’s voice was clear as she walked off. See, Selina had never tried to take Bruce from Jeremiah, just as Bruce hadn’t harbored any romantic feelings for her. The whole reason he had been so worried about Selina is he wasn’t sure how to deal with the crush on the older architect, and she was meant to help him. Obviously, he hadn’t realized just how little assistance he had needed. As Selina stalked off towards the door, to silently make her way into the garage to take a car, a thing she had become quite accustomed to doing, and leaving them at the GCPD, Jeremiah had found a spot right below the corner of Bruce jaw the grew red quite quickly. He didn’t want anyone else making the foolish mistake of thinking they could take Bruce from him. Now that Bruce had given him an inch, he was going to take a mile.