Breaking Bad Fic: I.F.J., Part 1
Fandom: Breaking Bad
Title: I.F.J.
Author: readishmael
Pairing: Walt/Jesse
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~10,500
Spoilers: Through 3x04, “Green Light”
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not for profit. No copyright infringement is intended. Breaking Bad belongs to Vince Gilligan, AMC, and Sony Television.
Warnings: Minor emotional abuse/manipulation; adultery; slightly cracky (though not as much as the title suggests).
A/N: Thanks to my first round beta sydpenguinbunny and my second round beta mspotamus. Also thanks, as always, to my girls at the clubhouse, especially to fakepoptart, from whom this title and premise were taken.
Summary: After the events of I.F.T., Walt has a plan to get back at Skyler.
Walt walked into the parking lot with his box under his arm in reasonably good spirits, all things considered.
So he wouldn't be teaching anymore, so what. He had all the money he needed. Maybe this was an opportunity to find a way to go back to actually doing chemistry, rather than be forced to watch a bunch of insolent teenagers disrespect his life's passion with their boredom and apathy and lack of comprehension.
And he hadn't really wanted Carmen, anyway. He was attracted to her, sure, but he wasn't really that interested. He'd made a mistake in thinking that she was interested (although, really, he thought that it was probably only an issue of improper timing), but it was just that-a mistake. A small error in judgment. Nothing worth dwelling on.
And now he had more time to fix things at home. So, on the whole, this was a good thing.
He attributed it to this (admirably, he would argue) positive outlook that he was actually kind of pleased to see Jesse.
He'd lost track of him since Jesse had moved out and he himself had moved back home, and although he hadn't spared his former partner any thought during that time, as he walked over to Jesse's car, he thought that it would be nice, at least, to see if Jesse was still sober. It was something of a point of pride for him, after all; he'd been the one to finally get Jesse into rehab.
The reality of a sober Jesse was somewhat disconcerting, though. He looked different, for one; his clothes and his countenance both made him appear incongruously serious. He still talked like an idiot, but he was curious, even concerned, about Walt's situation, and cautious about protecting Walt from being seen with him. There was something wrong about that coming from this oblivious, self-centered kid...especially since there was nothing for him to be worried about in the first place.
He decided that seeing Jesse so relatively put together, even knowing the role he'd played in bringing him to that point, was ultimately more unsettling than satisfying, and so he rejected Jesse's suggestion that they go off somewhere more private to talk, implying heavily that Jesse should just get to the point.
When the point turned out to be that Jesse wanted back into the business, Walt wasn't even surprised, much less horrified. Of course being sober wouldn't make Jesse any more responsible or willing to work for a living; it certainly wouldn't make him capable of walking away like Walt had himself. And Jesse didn't even have a three million dollar deal to push him back into that life.
So he only made the most perfunctory effort to talk him out of it...though he did feel a pang of sympathy when Jesse said that dealing was the only thing he'd ever been any good at, and tried to persuade him otherwise. Ultimately, though, he didn't know or care enough about what other interests or talents Jesse may have or may once have had to make anything close to a convincing rebuttal.
Finally, he just told Jesse the truth: he wasn't interested. But Jesse, to Walt's surprise, didn't care. He opened his backpack and, with tentative excitement, showed him the product he'd cooked on his own, rattled off some details about his process and looked at Walt like he was waiting for congratulations and a pat on the head.
Walt looked at that little bag of blue crystals and clenched his fists. His eyes narrowed, and he felt his skin prickle, and for a second he had to actively resist the urge to attack Jesse, seize him by the throat and slam his stupid, empty head against the window a few dozen times. How did he...? How could he...?
“It's good, right?” Jesse asked, knowing the answer. And he was right, it was good...not perfect, not exactly right, but close, closer than anyone should ever have been able to get without Walt's knowledge, and Jesse did this on his own, without even his supervision, let alone his help. And without his permission.
And then he came here to rub it in his face that he had taken Walt's knowledge, his formula, and was planning on claiming it as his own.
But before he found his voice again, before he had an opportunity to confront Jesse about either the insult or the theft, he realized something: Jesse may have known the answer to his question, but he was still asking it. He needed Walt to confirm it for him.
The thought of withholding that was tremendously satisfying. He took in Jesse's bright, eager face, clear-eyed and attentive like he'd never been in class, and admitted to himself how good it would feel to crush him. Just knowing he had that power was thrilling. In fact, even in his anger, he suddenly felt better and more in control of himself than he had since Skyler had come home the other night.
And that gave him an idea. All the muted, lingering regrets about Carmen vanished entirely; this would be better.
“You cooked this?” he asked, with the right amount of skepticism.
“Yup. Just me.” Smiling. Something sly and cocky in his voice that made Walt want to grit his teeth, but the look he gave Walt was searching, almost nervous, and that suited Walt better.
“Nicely done, Jesse. I'm impressed.”
“Really? I mean, I know it's good, but...” His smile grew brighter, but there was still a degree of wariness in his eyes.
“Yes. Really. This is good work. A tremendous improvement. I honestly didn't think you'd ever get to this point. You should be proud of yourself.” He watched Jesse carefully as he talked, saw him convince himself that Walt really meant it, and when all the wariness was gone and Jesse was openly beaming, he added, “It's not quite there yet, of course, but this was an excellent try.”
Jesse's delighted expression collapsed. “Wait, what's wrong with it?” he demanded, and Walt smiled. So far, so good.
“Nothing's wrong with it. It's a totally acceptable batch.”
“Oh. Acceptable.”
“Yeah. It's just...it's a little cloudy. I'm sure you noticed that yourself.”
“A...a little, I guess. What does that mean? Did I screw something up?”
“Oh, no, I'm sure you did everything right. Just, some of the little details were off somewhere. It was your first try; I'm sure you'll work it out.”
“But...like, what details?”
“I can't tell just by looking at it, Jesse.”
“Right. Um. So...what do I do?”
“Well, maybe if you walked me through the whole process, in detail, I'd be able to pinpoint something.”
“Are you sure? I mean, you said you didn't wanna get involved.”
“Don't worry about it. It's one conversation. It requires less involvement than actually setting up a meet for you.”
“Okay. Cool. So...” He turned his face forward, drummed his hands on the steering wheel, and frowned. Walt took a second to realize that that expression meant that he was thinking. “First, I...”
“Wait,” Walt said, and when Jesse turned distractedly to look at him, Walt took the final step of putting his plan into motion-leaned across the distance between them and kissed Jesse briefly on the mouth. He pulled back before Jesse could react, and suggested into the subsequent silence that maybe they should go somewhere else to talk, after all.
Jesse blinked, shook his head as if to clear it, and turned to face forward again.
“Mr. White, yo, what the hell?” he asked quietly, not looking at him.
“Come on, Jesse; do you want me to help you cook better or not?”
“What?”
“I don't have all day. You do want to cook better, right?”
“I...yeah, I do, but...”
“So drive.”
Jesse looked at him for a moment, a more clear-headed, thoughtful, and assessing look than Walt was entirely comfortable seeing, and then shrugged.
“Yeah, sure. Let's go talk.”
***************
Jesse didn't speak to him during the drive, and ignored his attempts to give directions or even an opinion on where they should go. He stopped trying after a couple minutes and just waited, and planned. Eventually, Jesse pulled into a huge, empty parking lot, and stopped the car.
As soon as the engine was turned off, Walt crowded into Jesse's space and tried to kiss him again. Jesse stopped him with a firm push to his chest, and ordered him out of the car.
“What?”
“I said get out.”
For a second Walt's mind flailed wildly, wondering if Jesse was going to leave him here and drive away; wondering how to prevent that while preserving his dignity; wondering if he should just refuse. But Jesse opened his own door, and so Walt followed suit, stepped out and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the almost uncomfortably warm side of the car, and Jesse walked around the front to join him, tapping his fingers against the hood as he went. He took out a cigarette, lit it up, took a deep drag, and then spoke.
“So, do you want me to talk you through what I did?”
Walt's expression must have registered his nonplussed reaction, because Jesse chuffed his exasperation, and shook his head.
“Yeah, I didn't think so. So how about, instead, you tell me what the hell is wrong with you?”
“I'm fine.”
“Seriously? So, what, you're a homo now? You're in love with me?”
“Jesse...”
“No, come on. You been wanting to fuck me this whole time, or did it just hit you all of a sudden?”
“Neither.” He was vehement, almost horrified. Jesse didn't sound disgusted, just incredulous, but suddenly this whole idea seemed like nothing more than a humiliating disaster waiting to unfold, apparently with agonizing slowness.
“Then what?” Jesse insisted.
“Never mind. Just forget it, okay? It never happened.”
“Uh uh, yo, no way. You can't just do that, and then just-”
“What do you want, Jesse?” His voice was strained with his newly-arrived and terribly familiar weariness. “Do you want me to apologize?”
“I want you to tell me what's going on.”
Walt sighed, and noted that Jesse's face hadn't lost that serious, speculative look since he'd started the car. This obviously wasn't going to work the way he'd hoped. But maybe a little honesty could help him here. Plus, it might be kind of nice to talk about it.
“I don't know where to start,” he opened.
“Why did you get fired? I mean, you did actually get fired, right?”
“I tried to kiss the assistant principal...among other things.”
Jesse looked appalled.
“What?”
“Mr. McCallum?”
Walt was briefly confused; then he managed to find a mental picture of the man Jesse had named, and he laughed, longer and harder than the moment probably deserved. “We got a new one since you graduated. A woman. Latina. Very attractive.” He paused, considering, and then gave Jesse a smile that was both rueful and conspiratorial. “Incredible ass.”
Jesse smiled back, and cocked his eyebrow doubtfully. “And you thought a woman like that would be cool with you kissing her?”
Walt just shrugged, trying not to be too annoyed.
There was a heavy pause as Jesse turned something over in his head. Walt waited.
“You said you moved back home.”
“I did.”
“So what about your wife?”
“Am I about to get a lecture from you about fidelity?”
“Hey, screw you, man. I don't cheat. Never have.”
“Well, she did.”
“What?”
“Yep.”
“Wow. That's messed up, yo. Why would she do that? I mean, she seemed like a bitch, no offense, but that's seriously just, like-” He stopped and just shook his head.
“I imagine she wanted to get back at me,” Walt answered after it became clear that Jesse didn't know how to finish his sentence.
“Get back at you? For what?” He seemed instantly to realize that was a stupid question. “How?” he asked gravely instead.
His tone made Walt feel a moment of defensiveness. He resisted to urge to insist that it wasn't Jesse's problem, and that everything was under control. “She figured most of it out on her own. She took what she knew about the money I was getting from nowhere, the time I was gone, that phone call from you, and just...put it together. She's...she's a smart woman. That was always...” He trailed off, and swallowed hard.
“Wow. So she's pissed, huh?”
“To say the least.”
“That sucks, yo.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you try to explain to her about why you did it? I mean, maybe she'd forgive you if she knew you were doing it for them.”
“I tried. She just...I don't know.”
“So you're not gonna try and fix it?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Uh, maybe the fact that you're going around kissing other people? I mean, I know you've gotta be pissed right now, but getting back at her for getting back at you doesn't seem like it's exactly gonna help your case.”
Walt's eyes narrowed. “The last thing in the world I need right now is advice from you.”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, why me?”
“Does it matter, Jesse? You've made it pretty clear you're not interested.”
“I have?” Off Walt's raised eyebrow, he went on. “I mean, yeah, I'm not. But I haven't really said no, either, right? So tell me: why me? I mean, like...was it like with Principal What's-her-name, and you thought I might be up for it?”
Walt sighed, and rubbed his hand over his head. “She thought I was having an affair.”
“What?”
“Skyler. Before she realized that the money wasn't coming from where I said it was, she thought I was having an affair. So I wonder if, when she was weighing that possibility, she ever thought again about you calling the house.”
“So...you're saying that you wanna have sex with me because there's a possibility that your wife already thinks we might be doing it?”
“Pretty much.” He felt a thread of bitter amusement at how stupid it sounded, stated plainly like that.
“And how does that help you? I mean, I see how it'd make you feel better to throw it in her face and all like she did to you, and that maybe that like, trumps her thing with her boss, but is that all you're trying to do?”
Walt's irritation at Jesse's disbelieving, critical tone spurred him into honesty. “I don't know how else to stop feeling like this.”
“Oh.” He looked at the ground, scuffed his feet, and then looked back up. “It isn't even about telling her, is it? You just wanna do it.”
Even if he'd cared to try, Walt couldn't have masked his surprise at Jesse's insight. He was right; Walt had already determined that telling her would be counterproductive...although he had imagined it before making his move on Carmen. He'd set the scene in his head to mirror the other night; in the fantasy, he'd approached her in the kitchen while she was cooking, and told her quietly that he'd fucked Carmen.
Then her imagined reaction was satisfying. If he replaced Carmen with Jesse, though, he was afraid she might actually laugh at him.
Jesse was quiet for a long moment. Then he took a drag on his cigarette, dropped it, and crushed it. He looked up at Walt blandly and shrugged. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, this is doable.”
“Jesse...are you...?”
“Look, I came to you asking for a favor, right? So now you need a favor from me. I do this for you, you help me perfect my cooking and set up a meet for me, and we're even.”
“You want to make a trade?”
“Well, yeah. Yo, I mean, I bet you wanted to, like, actually fuck me, right?”
“That's how I assumed it would happen,” he admitted cautiously.
“And how did you assume you were gonna get me to go along with that? I mean, that's asking kind of a lot. What am I supposed to get out of it?”
“You get to have sex.”
“Oh, come on,” he scoffed, emphasizing each word.
“Well, I did consider offering to suck you off.” He hadn't really, but it seemed now like a decent idea.
“Mr. White, if all I wanted was a blow job, I could find tons of chicks who'd be way better at it than you. And who'd actually want to do it.”
“And if I wanted to pay for sex, I could do a lot better than you, too. Don't you feel any shame about prostituting yourself?”
“Oh, Christ. I'm doing you a favor here, bitch. It ain't my fault you couldn't think of anyone who actually wants to sleep with your ancient ass, so how about you take that stick out of it? I think it's a fair deal. You can take it or leave it.”
Walt bit his lip to keep from smiling. Things weren't going exactly to plan, true, but it was all working out alright, anyway. Better than expected, in a way; he hadn't imagined Jesse being the one to make the offer.
“Fine,” he agreed. “Where do you want to go? We can't go to my house.”
“I have no furniture...Oh, shut up. I've been busy.”
“Motel room?”
“Okay.”
“Alright. Let's go.”
****************
The drive to the motel was just as awkward and just as quiet as before. Jesse broke the silence only once, to say that the only place he could think of that would rent them a room without showing a credit card was called the Crystal Palace. Walt didn't understand that that wasn't its real name until Jesse tersely added that it was a place they'd both be better off avoiding. Walt chose not to acknowledge Jesse's anxiety, and told him it didn't matter; he'd just use his card. If Skyler cared to know why, he'd tell her he'd needed some sleep in a real bed after being banished to Holly's room.
They found a Holiday Inn, and Jesse stayed in the car while Walt got them a room, neither of them comfortable with the idea of anyone seeing them checking in together. Of course, the guy could tell that Walt was a local, and he didn't have any bags with him, so it was possible that he had some suspicions about what Walt was there for, anyway, but at least Jesse wasn't there to confirm it for him.
Walt went out to tell Jesse the room number. Jesse opted to stay outside a little longer and smoke another cigarette, so Walt went to the room without him. He sat down on the bed. Then he stood back up. Sat down. Stood up. Paced. Wondered out loud what the hell was taking Jesse so long, and silently whether he might have just left, either chickened out or came to his senses.
He thought about calling it off himself. He'd gotten Jesse to agree to it. Didn't that prove something? Wasn't that enough?
Did he even want to do this?
He didn't have time to make a decision before there was a knock at the door. He opened it, and Jesse entered, and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against it and gave Walt a look that was just as assessing as earlier, but now also wary. His hands fidgeted uselessly at his sides.
“Hey.”
“You didn't change your mind,” he observed neutrally, probing for some insight into Jesse's current state of mind.
Jesse looked confused. “You thought I was gonna wuss out?”
“It occurred to me.”
“Jesus. You really think I'm that much of a pussy? This isn't even a big deal.” He paused, dropped his eyes, and shook his head. When he spoke again, it was mostly to himself. “I've done worse.”
Walt didn't think it was in his interest to address the substance of that comment, so he took issue with the semantics, instead. “Thanks. That's reassuring.”
“Jesus. Sorry for not being super-excited to get fucked up the ass by some nerdy dude who's twice my age.” He fidgeted against the door, and put his hand on the doorknob, only to snatch it back immediately and shove it in his pocket.
“Do you want to leave?”
“No,” he said firmly. Walt gave him a moment to change his mind, and Jesse gazed at him steadily. After a second he seemed to get an idea. He twisted around and engaged the deadbolt, and then turned back and gave Walt an expectant look.
“Okay. That means it's time to stop insulting me. Alright? You just said it's no big deal. I'll get what I want, you can get what you want, and we can both forget it ever happened.”
“So you're not gonna let me have any say in how this goes down? You expect me to just let you do whatever you want?”
“What are you talking about? Are you asking me if I'd...force you? If you change your mind?”
“What? No. Jesus.” His incredulity was so great it bordered on disgust. “Like you even could. I mean, you're not gonna hurt me. Get it? Because I ain't into that, and I'm not gonna pretend to be. It's not worth it.”
The idea, and the image it invoked (pulling Jesse's hair and yanking his head back, and then biting hard at the base of his neck), made Walt's mouth go dry. He had to clear his throat before he could answer. “Well, I have to admit, Jesse, the thought of hurting you is always tempting.”
“Asshole.”
“But I won't. It'll be better if you...enjoy it.”
“Okay. Just make sure if I tell you to slow down or stop, you actually do it.”
“I will.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He rocked forward on his feet, away from the door, and then thumped back heavily against it.
“What's the problem, Jesse?”
“You're not good at that.”
“Good at what?” Walt demanded, and then felt a little sheepish at his tone.
“Listening to me.”
Walt was briefly taken aback, and it was a few seconds before he retorted, “Well, yeah, I don't know why that would be a problem for me, what with all your brilliant ideas.”
“Dick.” He sighed. “Okay. So this isn't gonna be some kind of no kissing, no talking, no eye contact kind of deal?”
“Is that what you'd prefer?”
“No. That's really...not how I roll.”
“No? Even with your MILFs?” He'd looked up Jesse's MyShout page after Skyler had told him about it. Sometimes he was amazed that seeing it hadn't stopped him from restarting the partnership.
When he saw the flash of amusement in Jesse's eyes, he felt himself smile.
“Most of the time, they just wanted someone to show an interest in them. Make them feel young and sexy. Or powerful. Sound familiar?” Walt didn't respond, and Jesse went on. “Of course, it was easier with them than with you.” He smirked a little.
“You've never done this before, though.”
“Not...exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“Not, like, with a guy. I dated a couple girls who were into some weird shit. One of them eventually talked me into to letting her...you know.” He looked embarrassed, but more than that, he looked troubled. Walt saw the shadow fall across his face and realized the source pretty quickly. It gave him the sudden urge to cross the distance between them and kiss him.
“How was it?” he asked instead.
Jesse just shrugged. He stepped away from the door, but instead of walking toward Walt, veered left into the bathroom. Walt frowned. After a few seconds, Jesse voiced an “Aha!” and walked out with a small bottle. He tossed it to Walt.
“They have lotion. I was worried they wouldn't.”
His matter-of-factness had Walt briefly flustered. He looked skeptically down at the bottle in his hands, and then tossed it on the bed.
“So we've got that covered,” he said vaguely.
“Yeah.”
“What about...?”
Jesse shook his head. “Not unless you wanna go get some. I'm clean, though. Got tested in rehab.”
It didn't occur to Walt to wonder whether Jesse wanted a similar reassurance. He closed the now-abbreviated distance between them, and watched as Jesse licked his lips nervously.
This time when Walt kissed him, Jesse kissed back.
Part 2
Title: I.F.J.
Author: readishmael
Pairing: Walt/Jesse
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~10,500
Spoilers: Through 3x04, “Green Light”
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not for profit. No copyright infringement is intended. Breaking Bad belongs to Vince Gilligan, AMC, and Sony Television.
Warnings: Minor emotional abuse/manipulation; adultery; slightly cracky (though not as much as the title suggests).
A/N: Thanks to my first round beta sydpenguinbunny and my second round beta mspotamus. Also thanks, as always, to my girls at the clubhouse, especially to fakepoptart, from whom this title and premise were taken.
Summary: After the events of I.F.T., Walt has a plan to get back at Skyler.
Walt walked into the parking lot with his box under his arm in reasonably good spirits, all things considered.
So he wouldn't be teaching anymore, so what. He had all the money he needed. Maybe this was an opportunity to find a way to go back to actually doing chemistry, rather than be forced to watch a bunch of insolent teenagers disrespect his life's passion with their boredom and apathy and lack of comprehension.
And he hadn't really wanted Carmen, anyway. He was attracted to her, sure, but he wasn't really that interested. He'd made a mistake in thinking that she was interested (although, really, he thought that it was probably only an issue of improper timing), but it was just that-a mistake. A small error in judgment. Nothing worth dwelling on.
And now he had more time to fix things at home. So, on the whole, this was a good thing.
He attributed it to this (admirably, he would argue) positive outlook that he was actually kind of pleased to see Jesse.
He'd lost track of him since Jesse had moved out and he himself had moved back home, and although he hadn't spared his former partner any thought during that time, as he walked over to Jesse's car, he thought that it would be nice, at least, to see if Jesse was still sober. It was something of a point of pride for him, after all; he'd been the one to finally get Jesse into rehab.
The reality of a sober Jesse was somewhat disconcerting, though. He looked different, for one; his clothes and his countenance both made him appear incongruously serious. He still talked like an idiot, but he was curious, even concerned, about Walt's situation, and cautious about protecting Walt from being seen with him. There was something wrong about that coming from this oblivious, self-centered kid...especially since there was nothing for him to be worried about in the first place.
He decided that seeing Jesse so relatively put together, even knowing the role he'd played in bringing him to that point, was ultimately more unsettling than satisfying, and so he rejected Jesse's suggestion that they go off somewhere more private to talk, implying heavily that Jesse should just get to the point.
When the point turned out to be that Jesse wanted back into the business, Walt wasn't even surprised, much less horrified. Of course being sober wouldn't make Jesse any more responsible or willing to work for a living; it certainly wouldn't make him capable of walking away like Walt had himself. And Jesse didn't even have a three million dollar deal to push him back into that life.
So he only made the most perfunctory effort to talk him out of it...though he did feel a pang of sympathy when Jesse said that dealing was the only thing he'd ever been any good at, and tried to persuade him otherwise. Ultimately, though, he didn't know or care enough about what other interests or talents Jesse may have or may once have had to make anything close to a convincing rebuttal.
Finally, he just told Jesse the truth: he wasn't interested. But Jesse, to Walt's surprise, didn't care. He opened his backpack and, with tentative excitement, showed him the product he'd cooked on his own, rattled off some details about his process and looked at Walt like he was waiting for congratulations and a pat on the head.
Walt looked at that little bag of blue crystals and clenched his fists. His eyes narrowed, and he felt his skin prickle, and for a second he had to actively resist the urge to attack Jesse, seize him by the throat and slam his stupid, empty head against the window a few dozen times. How did he...? How could he...?
“It's good, right?” Jesse asked, knowing the answer. And he was right, it was good...not perfect, not exactly right, but close, closer than anyone should ever have been able to get without Walt's knowledge, and Jesse did this on his own, without even his supervision, let alone his help. And without his permission.
And then he came here to rub it in his face that he had taken Walt's knowledge, his formula, and was planning on claiming it as his own.
But before he found his voice again, before he had an opportunity to confront Jesse about either the insult or the theft, he realized something: Jesse may have known the answer to his question, but he was still asking it. He needed Walt to confirm it for him.
The thought of withholding that was tremendously satisfying. He took in Jesse's bright, eager face, clear-eyed and attentive like he'd never been in class, and admitted to himself how good it would feel to crush him. Just knowing he had that power was thrilling. In fact, even in his anger, he suddenly felt better and more in control of himself than he had since Skyler had come home the other night.
And that gave him an idea. All the muted, lingering regrets about Carmen vanished entirely; this would be better.
“You cooked this?” he asked, with the right amount of skepticism.
“Yup. Just me.” Smiling. Something sly and cocky in his voice that made Walt want to grit his teeth, but the look he gave Walt was searching, almost nervous, and that suited Walt better.
“Nicely done, Jesse. I'm impressed.”
“Really? I mean, I know it's good, but...” His smile grew brighter, but there was still a degree of wariness in his eyes.
“Yes. Really. This is good work. A tremendous improvement. I honestly didn't think you'd ever get to this point. You should be proud of yourself.” He watched Jesse carefully as he talked, saw him convince himself that Walt really meant it, and when all the wariness was gone and Jesse was openly beaming, he added, “It's not quite there yet, of course, but this was an excellent try.”
Jesse's delighted expression collapsed. “Wait, what's wrong with it?” he demanded, and Walt smiled. So far, so good.
“Nothing's wrong with it. It's a totally acceptable batch.”
“Oh. Acceptable.”
“Yeah. It's just...it's a little cloudy. I'm sure you noticed that yourself.”
“A...a little, I guess. What does that mean? Did I screw something up?”
“Oh, no, I'm sure you did everything right. Just, some of the little details were off somewhere. It was your first try; I'm sure you'll work it out.”
“But...like, what details?”
“I can't tell just by looking at it, Jesse.”
“Right. Um. So...what do I do?”
“Well, maybe if you walked me through the whole process, in detail, I'd be able to pinpoint something.”
“Are you sure? I mean, you said you didn't wanna get involved.”
“Don't worry about it. It's one conversation. It requires less involvement than actually setting up a meet for you.”
“Okay. Cool. So...” He turned his face forward, drummed his hands on the steering wheel, and frowned. Walt took a second to realize that that expression meant that he was thinking. “First, I...”
“Wait,” Walt said, and when Jesse turned distractedly to look at him, Walt took the final step of putting his plan into motion-leaned across the distance between them and kissed Jesse briefly on the mouth. He pulled back before Jesse could react, and suggested into the subsequent silence that maybe they should go somewhere else to talk, after all.
Jesse blinked, shook his head as if to clear it, and turned to face forward again.
“Mr. White, yo, what the hell?” he asked quietly, not looking at him.
“Come on, Jesse; do you want me to help you cook better or not?”
“What?”
“I don't have all day. You do want to cook better, right?”
“I...yeah, I do, but...”
“So drive.”
Jesse looked at him for a moment, a more clear-headed, thoughtful, and assessing look than Walt was entirely comfortable seeing, and then shrugged.
“Yeah, sure. Let's go talk.”
***************
Jesse didn't speak to him during the drive, and ignored his attempts to give directions or even an opinion on where they should go. He stopped trying after a couple minutes and just waited, and planned. Eventually, Jesse pulled into a huge, empty parking lot, and stopped the car.
As soon as the engine was turned off, Walt crowded into Jesse's space and tried to kiss him again. Jesse stopped him with a firm push to his chest, and ordered him out of the car.
“What?”
“I said get out.”
For a second Walt's mind flailed wildly, wondering if Jesse was going to leave him here and drive away; wondering how to prevent that while preserving his dignity; wondering if he should just refuse. But Jesse opened his own door, and so Walt followed suit, stepped out and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the almost uncomfortably warm side of the car, and Jesse walked around the front to join him, tapping his fingers against the hood as he went. He took out a cigarette, lit it up, took a deep drag, and then spoke.
“So, do you want me to talk you through what I did?”
Walt's expression must have registered his nonplussed reaction, because Jesse chuffed his exasperation, and shook his head.
“Yeah, I didn't think so. So how about, instead, you tell me what the hell is wrong with you?”
“I'm fine.”
“Seriously? So, what, you're a homo now? You're in love with me?”
“Jesse...”
“No, come on. You been wanting to fuck me this whole time, or did it just hit you all of a sudden?”
“Neither.” He was vehement, almost horrified. Jesse didn't sound disgusted, just incredulous, but suddenly this whole idea seemed like nothing more than a humiliating disaster waiting to unfold, apparently with agonizing slowness.
“Then what?” Jesse insisted.
“Never mind. Just forget it, okay? It never happened.”
“Uh uh, yo, no way. You can't just do that, and then just-”
“What do you want, Jesse?” His voice was strained with his newly-arrived and terribly familiar weariness. “Do you want me to apologize?”
“I want you to tell me what's going on.”
Walt sighed, and noted that Jesse's face hadn't lost that serious, speculative look since he'd started the car. This obviously wasn't going to work the way he'd hoped. But maybe a little honesty could help him here. Plus, it might be kind of nice to talk about it.
“I don't know where to start,” he opened.
“Why did you get fired? I mean, you did actually get fired, right?”
“I tried to kiss the assistant principal...among other things.”
Jesse looked appalled.
“What?”
“Mr. McCallum?”
Walt was briefly confused; then he managed to find a mental picture of the man Jesse had named, and he laughed, longer and harder than the moment probably deserved. “We got a new one since you graduated. A woman. Latina. Very attractive.” He paused, considering, and then gave Jesse a smile that was both rueful and conspiratorial. “Incredible ass.”
Jesse smiled back, and cocked his eyebrow doubtfully. “And you thought a woman like that would be cool with you kissing her?”
Walt just shrugged, trying not to be too annoyed.
There was a heavy pause as Jesse turned something over in his head. Walt waited.
“You said you moved back home.”
“I did.”
“So what about your wife?”
“Am I about to get a lecture from you about fidelity?”
“Hey, screw you, man. I don't cheat. Never have.”
“Well, she did.”
“What?”
“Yep.”
“Wow. That's messed up, yo. Why would she do that? I mean, she seemed like a bitch, no offense, but that's seriously just, like-” He stopped and just shook his head.
“I imagine she wanted to get back at me,” Walt answered after it became clear that Jesse didn't know how to finish his sentence.
“Get back at you? For what?” He seemed instantly to realize that was a stupid question. “How?” he asked gravely instead.
His tone made Walt feel a moment of defensiveness. He resisted to urge to insist that it wasn't Jesse's problem, and that everything was under control. “She figured most of it out on her own. She took what she knew about the money I was getting from nowhere, the time I was gone, that phone call from you, and just...put it together. She's...she's a smart woman. That was always...” He trailed off, and swallowed hard.
“Wow. So she's pissed, huh?”
“To say the least.”
“That sucks, yo.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you try to explain to her about why you did it? I mean, maybe she'd forgive you if she knew you were doing it for them.”
“I tried. She just...I don't know.”
“So you're not gonna try and fix it?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Uh, maybe the fact that you're going around kissing other people? I mean, I know you've gotta be pissed right now, but getting back at her for getting back at you doesn't seem like it's exactly gonna help your case.”
Walt's eyes narrowed. “The last thing in the world I need right now is advice from you.”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, why me?”
“Does it matter, Jesse? You've made it pretty clear you're not interested.”
“I have?” Off Walt's raised eyebrow, he went on. “I mean, yeah, I'm not. But I haven't really said no, either, right? So tell me: why me? I mean, like...was it like with Principal What's-her-name, and you thought I might be up for it?”
Walt sighed, and rubbed his hand over his head. “She thought I was having an affair.”
“What?”
“Skyler. Before she realized that the money wasn't coming from where I said it was, she thought I was having an affair. So I wonder if, when she was weighing that possibility, she ever thought again about you calling the house.”
“So...you're saying that you wanna have sex with me because there's a possibility that your wife already thinks we might be doing it?”
“Pretty much.” He felt a thread of bitter amusement at how stupid it sounded, stated plainly like that.
“And how does that help you? I mean, I see how it'd make you feel better to throw it in her face and all like she did to you, and that maybe that like, trumps her thing with her boss, but is that all you're trying to do?”
Walt's irritation at Jesse's disbelieving, critical tone spurred him into honesty. “I don't know how else to stop feeling like this.”
“Oh.” He looked at the ground, scuffed his feet, and then looked back up. “It isn't even about telling her, is it? You just wanna do it.”
Even if he'd cared to try, Walt couldn't have masked his surprise at Jesse's insight. He was right; Walt had already determined that telling her would be counterproductive...although he had imagined it before making his move on Carmen. He'd set the scene in his head to mirror the other night; in the fantasy, he'd approached her in the kitchen while she was cooking, and told her quietly that he'd fucked Carmen.
Then her imagined reaction was satisfying. If he replaced Carmen with Jesse, though, he was afraid she might actually laugh at him.
Jesse was quiet for a long moment. Then he took a drag on his cigarette, dropped it, and crushed it. He looked up at Walt blandly and shrugged. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, this is doable.”
“Jesse...are you...?”
“Look, I came to you asking for a favor, right? So now you need a favor from me. I do this for you, you help me perfect my cooking and set up a meet for me, and we're even.”
“You want to make a trade?”
“Well, yeah. Yo, I mean, I bet you wanted to, like, actually fuck me, right?”
“That's how I assumed it would happen,” he admitted cautiously.
“And how did you assume you were gonna get me to go along with that? I mean, that's asking kind of a lot. What am I supposed to get out of it?”
“You get to have sex.”
“Oh, come on,” he scoffed, emphasizing each word.
“Well, I did consider offering to suck you off.” He hadn't really, but it seemed now like a decent idea.
“Mr. White, if all I wanted was a blow job, I could find tons of chicks who'd be way better at it than you. And who'd actually want to do it.”
“And if I wanted to pay for sex, I could do a lot better than you, too. Don't you feel any shame about prostituting yourself?”
“Oh, Christ. I'm doing you a favor here, bitch. It ain't my fault you couldn't think of anyone who actually wants to sleep with your ancient ass, so how about you take that stick out of it? I think it's a fair deal. You can take it or leave it.”
Walt bit his lip to keep from smiling. Things weren't going exactly to plan, true, but it was all working out alright, anyway. Better than expected, in a way; he hadn't imagined Jesse being the one to make the offer.
“Fine,” he agreed. “Where do you want to go? We can't go to my house.”
“I have no furniture...Oh, shut up. I've been busy.”
“Motel room?”
“Okay.”
“Alright. Let's go.”
****************
The drive to the motel was just as awkward and just as quiet as before. Jesse broke the silence only once, to say that the only place he could think of that would rent them a room without showing a credit card was called the Crystal Palace. Walt didn't understand that that wasn't its real name until Jesse tersely added that it was a place they'd both be better off avoiding. Walt chose not to acknowledge Jesse's anxiety, and told him it didn't matter; he'd just use his card. If Skyler cared to know why, he'd tell her he'd needed some sleep in a real bed after being banished to Holly's room.
They found a Holiday Inn, and Jesse stayed in the car while Walt got them a room, neither of them comfortable with the idea of anyone seeing them checking in together. Of course, the guy could tell that Walt was a local, and he didn't have any bags with him, so it was possible that he had some suspicions about what Walt was there for, anyway, but at least Jesse wasn't there to confirm it for him.
Walt went out to tell Jesse the room number. Jesse opted to stay outside a little longer and smoke another cigarette, so Walt went to the room without him. He sat down on the bed. Then he stood back up. Sat down. Stood up. Paced. Wondered out loud what the hell was taking Jesse so long, and silently whether he might have just left, either chickened out or came to his senses.
He thought about calling it off himself. He'd gotten Jesse to agree to it. Didn't that prove something? Wasn't that enough?
Did he even want to do this?
He didn't have time to make a decision before there was a knock at the door. He opened it, and Jesse entered, and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against it and gave Walt a look that was just as assessing as earlier, but now also wary. His hands fidgeted uselessly at his sides.
“Hey.”
“You didn't change your mind,” he observed neutrally, probing for some insight into Jesse's current state of mind.
Jesse looked confused. “You thought I was gonna wuss out?”
“It occurred to me.”
“Jesus. You really think I'm that much of a pussy? This isn't even a big deal.” He paused, dropped his eyes, and shook his head. When he spoke again, it was mostly to himself. “I've done worse.”
Walt didn't think it was in his interest to address the substance of that comment, so he took issue with the semantics, instead. “Thanks. That's reassuring.”
“Jesus. Sorry for not being super-excited to get fucked up the ass by some nerdy dude who's twice my age.” He fidgeted against the door, and put his hand on the doorknob, only to snatch it back immediately and shove it in his pocket.
“Do you want to leave?”
“No,” he said firmly. Walt gave him a moment to change his mind, and Jesse gazed at him steadily. After a second he seemed to get an idea. He twisted around and engaged the deadbolt, and then turned back and gave Walt an expectant look.
“Okay. That means it's time to stop insulting me. Alright? You just said it's no big deal. I'll get what I want, you can get what you want, and we can both forget it ever happened.”
“So you're not gonna let me have any say in how this goes down? You expect me to just let you do whatever you want?”
“What are you talking about? Are you asking me if I'd...force you? If you change your mind?”
“What? No. Jesus.” His incredulity was so great it bordered on disgust. “Like you even could. I mean, you're not gonna hurt me. Get it? Because I ain't into that, and I'm not gonna pretend to be. It's not worth it.”
The idea, and the image it invoked (pulling Jesse's hair and yanking his head back, and then biting hard at the base of his neck), made Walt's mouth go dry. He had to clear his throat before he could answer. “Well, I have to admit, Jesse, the thought of hurting you is always tempting.”
“Asshole.”
“But I won't. It'll be better if you...enjoy it.”
“Okay. Just make sure if I tell you to slow down or stop, you actually do it.”
“I will.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He rocked forward on his feet, away from the door, and then thumped back heavily against it.
“What's the problem, Jesse?”
“You're not good at that.”
“Good at what?” Walt demanded, and then felt a little sheepish at his tone.
“Listening to me.”
Walt was briefly taken aback, and it was a few seconds before he retorted, “Well, yeah, I don't know why that would be a problem for me, what with all your brilliant ideas.”
“Dick.” He sighed. “Okay. So this isn't gonna be some kind of no kissing, no talking, no eye contact kind of deal?”
“Is that what you'd prefer?”
“No. That's really...not how I roll.”
“No? Even with your MILFs?” He'd looked up Jesse's MyShout page after Skyler had told him about it. Sometimes he was amazed that seeing it hadn't stopped him from restarting the partnership.
When he saw the flash of amusement in Jesse's eyes, he felt himself smile.
“Most of the time, they just wanted someone to show an interest in them. Make them feel young and sexy. Or powerful. Sound familiar?” Walt didn't respond, and Jesse went on. “Of course, it was easier with them than with you.” He smirked a little.
“You've never done this before, though.”
“Not...exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“Not, like, with a guy. I dated a couple girls who were into some weird shit. One of them eventually talked me into to letting her...you know.” He looked embarrassed, but more than that, he looked troubled. Walt saw the shadow fall across his face and realized the source pretty quickly. It gave him the sudden urge to cross the distance between them and kiss him.
“How was it?” he asked instead.
Jesse just shrugged. He stepped away from the door, but instead of walking toward Walt, veered left into the bathroom. Walt frowned. After a few seconds, Jesse voiced an “Aha!” and walked out with a small bottle. He tossed it to Walt.
“They have lotion. I was worried they wouldn't.”
His matter-of-factness had Walt briefly flustered. He looked skeptically down at the bottle in his hands, and then tossed it on the bed.
“So we've got that covered,” he said vaguely.
“Yeah.”
“What about...?”
Jesse shook his head. “Not unless you wanna go get some. I'm clean, though. Got tested in rehab.”
It didn't occur to Walt to wonder whether Jesse wanted a similar reassurance. He closed the now-abbreviated distance between them, and watched as Jesse licked his lips nervously.
This time when Walt kissed him, Jesse kissed back.
Part 2