Chapter Text
I’m Yours And You’re Mine, If You Like It Or Not
prologue
The first time Jeremiah meets the owner of the Wayne Enterprises, Thomas Wayne, he’s barely six months shy of sixteen and he already has a degree in engineering. The meeting is awkward and almost embarrassing, at least from Jeremiah’s point of view, but Mr Wayne doesn’t seem to notice. He keeps the kind smile on his face and continues to talk, as though it’s not obvious that Jeremiah is sweating through his layers of clothing due to his raging nerves.
Jeremiah never had good social skills – he could thank his dear brother on that. He might’ve gotten rid of Jerome nearly ten years ago, but even after leaving the circus he never really got the hang of the way one should act around people. The only person he’s even remotely comfortable is Ecco, and talking to her is almost like talking to a robot sometimes.
Jeremiah’s eyes switch between the desk in front of him and Mr Wayne’s forehead. He had been six-years-old when he had learned that looking at a person’s forehead instead of their eyes will create the illusion of eye-contact, especially if you’re more than a feet away from each other. So that’s what Jeremiah does – tries to create the illusion that he’s more comfortable than he actually is.
”Are you okay Mr Wilde?” Mr Wayne asked him, his brows furrowing in concern. ”You seem agitated.”
Jeremiah shook his head rapidly. ”No, no, everything is fine, I’m just a bit overwhelmed,” Jeremiah said, the last part coming out barely as a whisper, but Mr Wayne had heard it nonetheless.
And it was true – Jeremiah was overwhelmed. He was just a teenager, a genius teenager with a degree in engineering sure, but still a teenager and the richest man in the entire city wanted Jeremiah to build him a plaza.
Of course he was overwhelmed.
There was a distant voice in his head, one he usually succeeded to ignore or keep completely at bay, that told him this was all too good to be true and that he was either dreaming or just about to screw this whole thing up.
Mr Wayne smiled at him, the look on his face radiating kindness and warmth and Jeremiah found himself wishing he’d had someone like Thomas Wayne in his life while growing up. ”That’s completely understandable Mr Wilde – after all, you’re not even old enough to drive yet and I’d hate to pressure you into a job that might be too much for you.”
”Oh, no, trust me I can handle it,” Jeremiah insisted, rubbing the back of his neck. ”It’s just that I don’t like to leave my safe space.” He was referring to the bunker they were currently in. Jeremiah had been taken aback when Mr Wayne had agreed to go out of his way to meet him here instead of his office where most of his meetings were held. After all, it was a long drive to the woods and Mr Wayne was forced to clear most of his schedule for him…
”Yes, I’ve noticed,” Mr Wayne said, still smiling as he looked around the bunker. ”And I have to admit this is very impressive project, especially for somebody your age. It really makes me believe you’re the right person for this job – and don’t worry,you’re able to do most of the work from here if you so wish.”
His maze wasn’t fully completed yet – just about a year or so and it would be done. But for now he could only use the bunker and that was fine by him. He doubted Jerome was anywhere near him, if he remembered the course of the circus, they should be somewhere in Florida right now, and Jerome probably didn’t have the money to hunt him down from there.
The thing about Thomas Wayne was that he was the first person in Jeremiah’s life who had been truly kind to him. His brother was deranged, his mother had been mostly neglectful and even though Jeremiah cared for her, he wouldn’t deny the truth. His uncle may have given him a way out of the circus, but he couldn’t exactly be counted as a caring man and as soon as he had dropped Jeremiah to St. Ignatius Jeremiah barely heard from him.
Jeremiah wasn’t used to being treated like Thomas Wayne treated him, and he knew it was only a matter of time before things got out of hand. Jeremiah just didn’t expect the youngest of the Wayne family to be the one to blame.
Jeremiah wasn’t actually supposed to meet the little Bruce Wayne, but apparently their butler had gotten sick that day and had to go see a doctor. On top of that their backup nanny was on a nice little Wayne-funded vacation in Bali, so Mr Wayne had had no other choice than to bring his son with him to his meeting with Jeremiah.
Jeremiah wasn’t exactly good with children and he feared that the ten-year-old Bruce Wayne was either way too hyper-active for his own good and would disturb Jeremiah’s concentration or that he was just a bratty, easily agitated, spoiled rich kid who would disturb Jeremiah’s concentration.
However, Bruce Wayne was neither of those things, much to Jeremiah’s relief. No, Bruce Wayne was calm, wall-mannered and polite, just like his father. It was almost odd to see a kid that young not acting his age.
”I apologize for the inconvenience,” Mr Wayne said with an apologetic smile as he and Bruce entered his bunker, Bruce holding his father’s hand in both of his. ”But Martha had her book club, and she couldn’t bring him there, so-”
”It’s fine Mr Wayne, I don’t mind,” Jeremiah said, eyeing the small child warily as the kid looked around the bunker, interest clear in his eyes.
”Hello,” Bruce Wayne said to Jeremiah, a wide grin on his face as he gazed up at the teen. ”My name is Bruce Wayne. My father’s told me a lot about you!”
Jeremiah turned his gaze down to look at Bruce Wayne for the first time properly. The kid’s dark brown hair was neatly combed to the side and he was wearing a dark grey sweater with some dark pants. His face was littered with small freckles and his eyes were as dark as his hair, like pools of melted dark chocolate that shone in the limited light of Jeremiah’s bunker. His grin let Jeremiah see rows of unbelievably straight and white teeth, and surprisingly he wasn’t missing any, like some kids his age still were.
The worst thing was that the ten-year-old Bruce Wayne was cute. And yes, one could argue that kids are supposed to be cute. But the thing that unsettled Jeremiah to his core was the fact that Bruce Wayne was cute and not in the way kids are.
Oh wow, you really are sick, aren’t you? The voice in his head taunted. Finding a literal child attractive? That’s fucked up. Completely messed up.
”It’s nice to meet you too,” Jeremiah managed to choke out before quickly turning away from the child, hoping that neither of the Wayne’s noticed anything strange in his behavior.
Jeremiah did his best to ignore the younger Wayne throughout the meeting. It should’ve been easy – after all, Bruce Wayne was content reading a book quietly in the corner while Mr Wayne went over the ups and downs of the construction of his plaza. The task turned out to be difficult however, as everytime Bruce let out a slight excited gasp over the plot of the book or moved his hair to the side or turned the page or moved at all, Jeremiah’s eyes found their way to look at the kid.
”Is he bothering you? If he is, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to wait outside-” Mr Wayne commented suddenly, and Jeremiah found his heart skipping a beat. Fuck. He must’ve noticed the way Jeremiah shifted every time Bruce so much as coughed.
Imagine what Mr Wayne would say if he found out about your little inappropriate thoughts about his son, the voice taunted again, as though it was snickering at Jeremiah’s discomfort. He’d probably have you behind bars. He would likely demand the worst sentence possible – your life would be over. Just like that. All because you’re sick and perverted and fucked in the head.
”No, no, not at all” Jeremiah insisted, fixing the position of his glasses nervously. ”He’s not bothering me at all.”
Then again, there’s no harm in thinking. Unless Mr Wayne has some magical mind-reading powers, he’ll never know that you’d loved to see if his son’s skin feels as soft as it looks. Or that you’d love to mess that tidy hair of his or that-
”Are you sure?” Mr Wayne asked, his brows furrowing in concern – it was something that Jeremiah had noticed him doing a lot in his presence. ”You look pale. Are you sick? Do you need to go to a doctor?”
”No, Mr Wayne, really I’m fine. I just think I need a glass of water and I’ll be fine.” Jeremiah quickly got up from his chair and marched to the small kitchen he had built into his bunker and made sure the door slid close before leaning against it.
He really was sick. Bruce Wayne was ten-years-old. Ten fucking years old. What kind of sicko thinks about the softness of a ten-year-old’s skin? Jesus chirst. There really was a line between the things that were wrong with Jeremiah because of Jerome and things that were wrong with him because he was just so fucked up.
But it’s not like you’re an adult either. What’s a five year age gap here and there. It’s technically illegal.
Jeremiah took off his glasses and splashed his face with cold water. He really needed that voice to shut up now. It was enough that he had those thoughts to begin with, but to have something in his head encouraging those thoughts? Maybe he should just go confess to the police himself.
And say what exactly? ’Hey I had a dirty thought about a ten-year-old, lock me up officer’. Everybody’s had those thoughts about kids, you should relax a little.
The urge to hit his head against the mirror above the kitchen sink was overwhelming, and Jeremiah almost did, but a knock on the door interrupted him before he had the chance.
”Mr Wilde, are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been there for quite a while now,” Mr Wayne’s voice rang through the door.
”I’m fine, I’ll be just out, if you don’t mind.”
Jeremiah didn’t meet Bruce Wayne after that. Slowly the voice in his head stopped taunting him, at least about Bruce, and Jeremiah could go back to living his life the way he had so far. He finished the construction of the Wayne Plaza and didn’t have any contact with Mr Wayne after that. He wasn’t even disappointed – as amazing as it had been to work for the man, it was too risky now. He might slip out the deepest and darkest secret he had and Mr Wayne would just remind him of it. Not having to deal with the Wayne family allowed Jeremiah to make believe that he never had those thoughts to begin with.
Jeremiah used his work to get his mind off of the disturbing thoughts and it was an effective way. After he finished the construction of his maze three months earlier than planned, he got a job offering from Meyer and Hayes, which he gladly took. It seemed like he could finally live normally again, or at least as normally as a teenage engineer could live.
It was only when the Wayne murders happened that Jeremiah found himself thinking about the family again. It was a shame really – Jeremiah couldn’t pretend like the death of Thomas Wayne didn’t have an impact on him. After all, he had actually liked Mr Wayne. He had been good and kind and pleasant to work with.
Bruce Wayne had been the only survivor of the incident. Seeing the kid’s face, now twelve-years-old, on the front page of every newspaper in Gotham was like a hit in the gut for Jerome.
And not even for the right reasons.
Any normal person would have felt sorrow and pity for the young boy – loosing his parents, being in the scene of the crime, having to watch the life drain out of the two people he loved the most in the world… anyone would be traumatized by that. But those weren’t the first thoughts that came onto Jeremiah’s mind. No, te first thing to pop up in Jeremiah’s messed up head was how pretty Bruce Wayne looked with a tear stained face and the blood of his parents covering his hands.
Jeremiah really needed help. Maybe even more so than his brother.