Breaking Bad Fic: Killing Time (Just Don't Leave), Epilogue
See Parts 1-2 for warnings and other info.
Parts 3-4
Parts 5-6
That ungrateful, petulant, selfish, inconsiderate, whiny little imbecile.
Every time Walt’s thoughts turned to Jesse since he’d disappeared, the anger flooded in and overwhelmed him.
Christ, it had all just come so entirely out of nowhere. Just where the hell did he get off, blindsiding him like that-and then storming out like he was the one who’d been wronged?
It was all bullshit. Unfair to the point of absurdity. And now the moron was out there somewhere, out of reach, probably getting himself into trouble - getting both of them into trouble - and leaving Walt to stress out and worry and wait until the point when he'd finally have to go bail Jesse out once again, because Gus was giving him no choice.
At least, he was assuming that Jesse was still out of reach. He’d only called him once, after he’d been missing for a couple days, and when he'd gotten sent right through to voicemail, he'd left one brief, forbidding message, Don’t be an idiot, and hadn’t tried back since. He wasn’t going to keep calling; he was sure that’s what Jesse wanted-of course he wouldn’t be above playing those kinds of games. And he had to admit that the thought of Jesse waiting for his phone to ring brought Walt both satisfaction and relief.
He’d be back eventually.
In the meantime, though, Walt wasn’t sleeping, and it was that more than anything else that was keeping his anger burning.
He’d been starting to get used to sharing a bed again, for one thing. For another, he was horny almost constantly, kept awake by relentless desires that he refused to indulge but which he couldn’t seem to suppress or banish.
It was bad enough that Jesse had made out like Walt had somehow been using him and then disappeared. Still wanting him was just obscene.
Walt rolled over onto his side so he was facing away from his alarm clock. He lifted his head enough that he could flip his pillow over to expose the cool side, and then settled back down. He was actually finally starting to drift off to sleep when he heard a knock at the door.
As soon as his eyes snapped open, he knew it was Jesse.
Walt got out of bed slowly, and he expected Jesse to get impatient and knock again-to just start pounding and maybe yelling-but everything was quiet except for the sounds of his own progress through the apartment. The silence made him wonder with chilling horror whether he’d imagined the whole thing, but when he opened the door, Jesse was there, staring back at him with wet, red-rimmed eyes. Walt tried, but it was impossible to tell just by looking at him whether he’d been using. He dropped his eyes lower, gave Jesse a quick but thorough looking-over.
He seemed fine.
“Can I come in?”
Walt stepped back so Jesse could walk through the door, and then shut it.
As soon as Walt turned to face into the apartment, Jesse pushed him back against the door and kissed him.
When the shock faded, Walt found himself reaching out to pull Jesse in closer, and he stopped himself. He put his hands on Jesse’s shoulders instead and pushed him away. Jesse tried to fight him, but Walt tightened his grip and locked his elbows, maintaining the distance between them.
“Jesse, stop. What the hell do you think you’re doing? What, you think we’re just going to pretend that nothing happened?”
Jesse gave a small, anguished sob, and fixed him with teary, pleading eyes, and Walt began to feel the first low current of arousal.
“I’m sorry. Okay? Please, I’m sorry.”
“Oh, you’re sorry? That’s fantastic, Jesse. That fixes everything.”
Jesse blinked back more tears and shook his head vehemently. “No, no, I know it doesn’t. Just, please, I really...I really need you. I’ll do anything. Whatever you want.” He tried to close the gap between them again, and Walt held him back.
He had no idea what to do-no idea what he even wanted to do. He heard two meanings in Jesse’s I need you, and he didn’t know which was real...or if they somehow both were, even though he knew now that the sex and the comfort had never been connected. Jesse had only ever been pretending otherwise, and had somehow managed to fool him.
And he was still angry. Jesse’s desperation had diminished that anger a little, but what was left was sharper and more bitter than ever.
He wanted to hug him. He wanted to shake him. He wanted to bend him over the arm of the couch and fuck him senseless.
He didn’t know whether he wanted to help him or hurt him, or which action would achieve which end.
Jesse suddenly stopped trying to push forward and sunk to his knees instead. Walt pressed back into the door and away from him, and reached out uselessly to put his hand on Jesse’s head.
He was still thinking.
**The End**
Parts 3-4
Parts 5-6
That ungrateful, petulant, selfish, inconsiderate, whiny little imbecile.
Every time Walt’s thoughts turned to Jesse since he’d disappeared, the anger flooded in and overwhelmed him.
Christ, it had all just come so entirely out of nowhere. Just where the hell did he get off, blindsiding him like that-and then storming out like he was the one who’d been wronged?
It was all bullshit. Unfair to the point of absurdity. And now the moron was out there somewhere, out of reach, probably getting himself into trouble - getting both of them into trouble - and leaving Walt to stress out and worry and wait until the point when he'd finally have to go bail Jesse out once again, because Gus was giving him no choice.
At least, he was assuming that Jesse was still out of reach. He’d only called him once, after he’d been missing for a couple days, and when he'd gotten sent right through to voicemail, he'd left one brief, forbidding message, Don’t be an idiot, and hadn’t tried back since. He wasn’t going to keep calling; he was sure that’s what Jesse wanted-of course he wouldn’t be above playing those kinds of games. And he had to admit that the thought of Jesse waiting for his phone to ring brought Walt both satisfaction and relief.
He’d be back eventually.
In the meantime, though, Walt wasn’t sleeping, and it was that more than anything else that was keeping his anger burning.
He’d been starting to get used to sharing a bed again, for one thing. For another, he was horny almost constantly, kept awake by relentless desires that he refused to indulge but which he couldn’t seem to suppress or banish.
It was bad enough that Jesse had made out like Walt had somehow been using him and then disappeared. Still wanting him was just obscene.
Walt rolled over onto his side so he was facing away from his alarm clock. He lifted his head enough that he could flip his pillow over to expose the cool side, and then settled back down. He was actually finally starting to drift off to sleep when he heard a knock at the door.
As soon as his eyes snapped open, he knew it was Jesse.
Walt got out of bed slowly, and he expected Jesse to get impatient and knock again-to just start pounding and maybe yelling-but everything was quiet except for the sounds of his own progress through the apartment. The silence made him wonder with chilling horror whether he’d imagined the whole thing, but when he opened the door, Jesse was there, staring back at him with wet, red-rimmed eyes. Walt tried, but it was impossible to tell just by looking at him whether he’d been using. He dropped his eyes lower, gave Jesse a quick but thorough looking-over.
He seemed fine.
“Can I come in?”
Walt stepped back so Jesse could walk through the door, and then shut it.
As soon as Walt turned to face into the apartment, Jesse pushed him back against the door and kissed him.
When the shock faded, Walt found himself reaching out to pull Jesse in closer, and he stopped himself. He put his hands on Jesse’s shoulders instead and pushed him away. Jesse tried to fight him, but Walt tightened his grip and locked his elbows, maintaining the distance between them.
“Jesse, stop. What the hell do you think you’re doing? What, you think we’re just going to pretend that nothing happened?”
Jesse gave a small, anguished sob, and fixed him with teary, pleading eyes, and Walt began to feel the first low current of arousal.
“I’m sorry. Okay? Please, I’m sorry.”
“Oh, you’re sorry? That’s fantastic, Jesse. That fixes everything.”
Jesse blinked back more tears and shook his head vehemently. “No, no, I know it doesn’t. Just, please, I really...I really need you. I’ll do anything. Whatever you want.” He tried to close the gap between them again, and Walt held him back.
He had no idea what to do-no idea what he even wanted to do. He heard two meanings in Jesse’s I need you, and he didn’t know which was real...or if they somehow both were, even though he knew now that the sex and the comfort had never been connected. Jesse had only ever been pretending otherwise, and had somehow managed to fool him.
And he was still angry. Jesse’s desperation had diminished that anger a little, but what was left was sharper and more bitter than ever.
He wanted to hug him. He wanted to shake him. He wanted to bend him over the arm of the couch and fuck him senseless.
He didn’t know whether he wanted to help him or hurt him, or which action would achieve which end.
Jesse suddenly stopped trying to push forward and sunk to his knees instead. Walt pressed back into the door and away from him, and reached out uselessly to put his hand on Jesse’s head.
He was still thinking.
**The End**