Breaking Bad Fic: What You Need, Part 5 & Conclusion
See Parts 1-2 for header.
Parts 3-4
It took him a day and a half to decide.
He spent the first day declaring it impossible. With thoughts of Jesse's possible ulterior motives, and of the consequences, he rebuked the cold, buzzing voice inside him that insisted that he'd be stupid not to take what Jesse was offering when he could hardly deny wanting it (he also spent that first day in a continual state of arousal, and whether that was because he was thinking about fucking Jesse or just because Jesse was with him made no difference to the question at hand).
What if Jesse was just feeling beholden? What if he wanted it to be a kind of penance? What if it was a test to see if Walt would hurt him?
What if he wanted to be hurt?
The questions-especially that last-made him dizzy, sick, disgruntled. For the first part of that day, he withdrew from Jesse as a result-refused to be engaged in conversation, refused to be touched. The calm, easy intimacy they had established was usurped by a stifling tension, and Walt found himself struggling to be patient with Jesse's disappointed looks whenever his quest for affection was rendered futile.
But then Jesse seemed to catch on to Walt's difficulty, seemed to understand; he'd asked Walt to think about it, and he was thinking. After that, Jesse let Walt maintain his distance and obtruded as little as possible; he relaxed and waited, as if Walt could have all the time in the world if he needed it.
Which made Walt realize for the first time that he couldn't.
One more day after this, and then Walt would be back in the lab, and Jesse would be on his own, left to fill his days with something other than Walt's presence. Left to find other ways to cope, and to move on.
So they talked about that-what Jesse would do, and how, and, underlying it all, whether he would be okay. Jesse didn't shy away from the prospect of getting back to his life. He had some vague half-formed plans (getting the laundering of his money underway, for one, and some barely coherent thing he'd forced out, clearly embarrassed, about art classes), which was encouraging enough, but more to the point, he seemed to have hope. He could see a place for himself in the world in spite of what he'd done. Walt didn't know if that was due to some store of resilience he hadn't suspected or if he'd actually helped Jesse through to the other side of his moral crisis, but either way he was happy to see it (though, he had to admit, the latter explanation pleased him considerably more).
But while the conversation made him feel better about Jesse's future, it also birthed a certainty that exacerbated his confusion: Jesse wouldn't need him the same way for much longer. Once Walt went back to cooking and Jesse got used to being without him, this new state of affairs between them would almost undoubtedly end. For practical reasons their association would continue, at least for now, but this thing, whatever exactly it was, that they'd been sharing for the past few days would be over.
That meant if he wanted to fuck Jesse, he was probably only going to get one shot at it.
The urgency of his desire spiked almost painfully with that awareness, so he laid the question aside as well as he could for the night and took Jesse to bed with him, stripped him naked, and surveyed the familiar territory with his hands and tongue. Jesse insisted on having the opportunity to do the same to him, and then they'd pressed against each other, skin to skin, and like the night before Walt let Jesse do the work, clasping his hand around them both and slowly but confidently bringing them both to completion. Afterward he held onto him long enough that the both fell asleep without cleaning up or getting dressed.
He awoke the next day with his mind no closer to being made up. There was relief in the knowledge that if he simply made it through the day, the question would be answered for him by circumstance and the issue dropped, probably forever. But the more he told himself that, the less he thought himself capable of resisting. Jesse kept giving him these knowing looks, and Walt found an ugly part of himself debating whether to take him just so he could wipe that look from his face or to refuse and deny him the satisfaction of being right. Every new wave of desire first ate away at and then rebuilt and strengthened his resolve.
In an event that Walt should have predicted, though, Jesse's patience ran out. He didn't raise the topic directly, but pointedly and expectantly asked Walt what they'd be doing that night. They hadn't yet acknowledged that it might be their last together like this, but that was the obvious subtext to Jesse's question. The implication was that it should be something new. Something special.
And Walt wanted to do something special for Jesse. With him. He wanted Jesse to remember it.
But there was too much uncertainty surrounding Jesse's reasons and desires to simply give in.
“I've been thinking about what you suggested,” he told him.
“Oh, yeah?” Jesse answered, as if he hadn't already known.
“Yeah. You said it might be nice. That's not exactly a glowing endorsement.”
“Oh, Jesus, is that why you've been stalling? Nice is good, Mr. White. Nice can be great.”
“But I'm getting the sense that you don't think you'll really like it. Physically, I mean.”
“I might, I dunno. That isn't really the nice part. I mean, as long as it doesn't hurt too much.”
“That's the best you're hoping for?”
“No.”
“So then?”
“Look, I just...I like to be close to you. Okay? And you can't get much closer than that, right?”
Walt didn't agree to that out of fear of agreeing to everything. “If we do this--”
“If?”
“If we do this, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn't hurt, but I need you to understand that it still might.”
“Uh, yeah, I know.” He smiled an indulgent, somehow endearingly condescending smile at Walt's caution. A teenager's smile. “I'm not an idiot, Mr. White.”
“Okay. I just...You have let me know right away if you want me to stop, and I will. But if it hurts, you're...you'll have to decide if it's worth it to you to go on.”
“Come on, yo, I'm not gonna puss out. Alright? I wanna do this.”
“But why?” Walt insisted.
“I just do. I mean, what does it matter?”
“Because, Jesse. This can't just be something you're doing for me.”
“Why not?”
“Jesse...”
“No, seriously. Is it just that you don't like the idea of me feeling like I owe you something? Or is it that you don't like the idea of maybe owing me?”
“Would I owe you something?”
“No,” Jesse responded emphatically. “That's not what I mean. But, Jesus, is that really how you think of all this?”
“You're the one who brought owing into it.”
“Yeah. I know. But you said before that you didn't want me trying to make things even. What did you mean? That we are even? That you for some reason don't want things to be even? Or that neither of us should be thinking of it like that in the first place?”
“I meant--”
“Because I wasn't thinking of it like that. I mean, I'm grateful and all, and I want to make you feel good, too, but it isn't...it isn't like a trade, or anything. And I think you think it is, or else you think I think it is. But it's not.”
“It's not something you ever thought you'd want to do,” Walt said, straining not to let his irritation show. “Your words. But you're making an exception, for me, because you're grateful. But you don't want me to think that you're trying to pay me back? Well, sorry, but I don't buy it. And I'm not going to indulge you in feeling guilty or turning this into something it's not.”
Jesse gave a frustrated sigh and shook his head. He paused to think, then licked his lips and asked, “Do you think I saved your life because I owed you for saving mine?”
“What?”
“Do you?”
“I don't know, Jesse. You tell me.”
“No. I mean, I was grateful and all, and I didn't want to let you down, and I would have felt like shit if I didn't do it, but, yo, when you actually called, and it all went down? I just didn't want you to die. And part of that was 'cuz you saved me first, yeah, but that's just 'cuz...'cuz no one else woulda done what you did for me. And I know you didn't do it thinking you owed me something. I mean, right? 'Cuz obviously you didn't. I mean, I know I said some shit when I was pissed at you in the hospital and all, but you coulda just let me go. You had every reason to, and you didn't.”
Walt couldn't shake the guilty feeling that he was being given entirely too much credit, and that that alone-Jesse's naïve trust in him-proved what a bad idea this might be. It took him a moment before he could reply. “What's your point?”
“I don't fucking know. It just feels like you want me to separate out wanting to do it because it'll make me feel good--and it would, yo, being so close to you and everything, like I said-and doing it because it would make you feel good. And I can't.”
“It makes a difference.”
“Okay. But...I don't know, can we think about it not like payback but like...sharing? Like we're on the same level, here?...Jesus, I sound like a little bitch. You know what, whatever. It's up to you, but you gotta make up your mind.”
So he did. “Okay.”
“Um...okay, what?”
“Okay, we can do this. You want me to trust that you're doing it for the right reasons, so I'm going to.”
“Alright. Good. Awesome.”
“But you'd better not be lying to me.”
“I'm not. Definitely not.”
“Okay. So...”
“So...”
“I'm going to have to run to the store.”
“Ah.” He looked amused.
“I'll get us something to eat.”
“Cool.”
Instead of moving to get himself ready to go, he lingered. “Jesse...are you sure?”
“Come on, how many times do I hafta say it? Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” A playful light dawned in his eyes and then was largely buried, with effort, under adopted gravity. “I want you to fuck me. Does that help?”
Walt felt as if the ground shifted underneath him. “Yeah. It helps.”
“Okay. Then get going.”
Walt did. His stomach roiling with nervousness and excitement and a healthy sprinkling of embarrassment, he went to a pharmacy and, in an aisle toward the back, perused an intimidatingly large selection of condoms and lube. He was briefly stymied by the thought of having to actually make a choice and then buy whatever he'd picked out; looking at the display made him feel old and out of touch and more than a little ridiculous.
This was a stupid thing he was about to do. All of it had been stupid.
But he didn't stall long, afraid that someone might come upon him and ask him if he needed any help. Or just see him there, looking indecisive. He made his choices, privileging plainness in function and packaging, and got the hell out of there.
He still felt stupid, but the excitement was sharper than ever. He picked them up some burgers on the way home, not sure how he was going to manage to eat them.
When he got there, Jesse seemed to be struggling with the same problem. He regarded the bag from the pharmacy with considerably more interest, but then turned with forced enthusiasm to the food. His ability to shift his focus was apparently limited, though, because he kept looking at Walt, longer and longer glances until finally he was just openly staring, his food uneaten in front of him.
Walt put down his food and met Jesse's gaze as steadily as he could.
“Why don't we save these for later?” he suggested. Jesse smiled and nodded, so Walt wrapped everything back up and stuck it in the fridge.
When he turned around, Jesse was on his feet, moving toward him. Walt considered staying still and waiting for the space of a single step, and then walked to meet Jesse in the middle of the kitchen. Jesse slipped his arms around Walt's waist, Walt put his hands to Jesse's face, and then they were kissing.
Walt wanted to take it slow, but Jesse wouldn't let him; he nipped at his lip and licked his way into Walt's mouth, his hands pulling Walt's shirt out of his waistband at the same time. Walt pulled back and told him to calm down.
Jesse made a frustrated sound, and shook his head. “No, come on, please, I want you, I've wanted this for days, let's go.” He pulled at Walt's shirt, and took a couple steps back, trying to drag Walt with him toward the bedroom. Walt acquiesced, dizzy with arousal.
He had Jesse's shirt off almost immediately after they passed through the doorway, and then his own, not bothering to unbutton it but just lifting it over his head. He paused only long enough to cup Jesse's cock, already mostly hard, through his pants before getting them open and dragging them down. Jesse moved in to undo Walt's pants, nibbling at his jawline all the while, and then a moment later they were naked.
With chagrin, Walt realized the absurdity of their frenzy. The pharmacy bag was still in the living room, and there was a lot of work to do before Jesse would be ready. He kissed Jesse, told him to lie down, and then went to retrieve the bag.
He dumped the contents onto the bed, and then snatched up the bottle of lube.
“Scoot back, and then spread your legs for me,” he directed softly. Jesse complied without hesitation, favoring Walt with a warm but somewhat unsteady smile. Walt gave him a reassuring one of his own as he encouraged him to lift his hips so he could put a pillow under him, and then had him bend his knees and plant his feet on the bed.
“It's gonna be okay, Jesse. I'm going to take care of you.”
“I know.”
“Okay.” He spilled a small amount of lube over his fingers, and spread it around until they were coated. “Here we go.”
At first, he just dragged his fingers over Jesse's perineum, slow strokes up and down. He gradually lengthened his movements, slid his fingers over Jesse's asshole on every pass, increasing the pressure but making no attempt at penetration yet. He circled around the opening, pressed against it but not in, making Jesse anticipate it. Jesse squirmed and pushed back against Walt's fingers, and finally Walt let the tip of the first one breach him. Jesse's breath hitched. Walt pulled out, pushed back in a little further, thrust shallowly for a few moments, and then slid the digit in the rest of the way.
Jesse took a deep breath. Walt gave him a questioning look.
“I'm good. It's just weird.”
Walt made a sympathetic noise and started to move his finger in and out, twisting and crooking his finger every once and a while to apply light pressure to the cavity walls. Jesse got used to this and relaxed himself. Walt smiled in anticipation of his reaction when he pushed in deeper and crooked his finger again, hitting his prostate for the first time.
Jesse gasped and bucked up off the bed.
“Oh, my God.”
“You liked that, huh?”
“Fuck yes. Jesus.”
“Want me to do it again?”
“Yes. Holy shit.”
Walt grinned. “Can you ask me? I want to hear you ask me.”
Jesse grinned back. “Please, Mr. White, do that again.”
“Good boy,” he replied, and crooked his finger at the same time. Jesse made a funny strangled sound, and Walt did it again. Then he pulled back, and added a second finger. He pressed them against Jesse's entrance, told Jesse to relax, and pushed in slowly. Jesse clenched his teeth but nothing else, and then he was in deep enough to hit Jesse's prostate again. He watched Jesse's cock swell in response, and reached with his other hand to trace his fingers over it. He kept his touch light and teasing as he started scissoring his fingers inside Jesse, distracting Jesse until his jaw relaxed and his started to moan softly whenever Walt spread the fingers inside him apart. Walt stopped the scissoring movements to start thrusting his fingers into Jesse, and Jesse whimpered and pushed back against his hand.
“Good boy, Jesse, just like that, show me how good it feels.” He slid his palm along Jesse's length, and Jesse whimpered again.
“More, Mr. White. Please.”
“That's a good boy, Jesse, I love it when you ask me. You say please like a good boy.” He curled his hand around Jesse's cock, gave it a couple of firm strokes, and then he started trying to work the third finger into him.
Jesse tensed, clenched painfully around the intruding digits.
“Shh, relax, Jesse, I need you to relax. You can do it. Do it for me.”
Jesse took a deep breath, held it, let it out. Then he did it again. And then again. Walt felt the pressure ease, and he pushed forward. Jesse pushed back against his hand again, taking him deeper, and Walt rewarded him by brushing his fingers against his prostate again. Jesse whined. He was fully hard now, the head of his cock shiny with precome. Walt ran his thumb over it, smeared it around, and Jesse bucked into his hand.
Walt let out a shaky breath, and got an idea.
“I want you to move, Jesse. Okay? I want you to make yourself come for me. Are you my good boy?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
“Then make yourself come for me, come on. I want to see it.”
He laid his hand over Jesse's cock, applying no pressure but the weight, and kept all three fingers deep inside Jesse. Jesse squirmed, considering. He dug his fingers into the sheets, and thrust back onto Walt's fingers, then pulled back and lifted his hips to grind his cock against Walt's hand. He repeated the motions, tried to make it smoother, more natural, turn it in to one movement that he could repeat over and over. The look of concentration on his face made Walt smile.
He'd never say it out loud, but Jesse could be really cute sometimes.
Instead of dwelling in his sudden burst of affection, Walt started giving Jesse encouragement. He was crazy with the urge to move his hands, to help Jesse along, and even crazier with the need to touch himself. Both his hands were occupied, and there was nothing for him to rub against. As Jesse sped his movements, pushed back with almost painful force on his fingers and sobbed, he caught himself humping at the air and forced himself to stop.
“Come on, Jesse, come on, you're so close now, I can feel it, wanna watch you come for me, love watching you come for me, always so good for me, make me so hot, make me feel so good, come on, come on, you can do it.”
Jesse simplified his movements, opting to just thrust up against Walt's palm. He uncurled his fingers from the sheet and put his hands over Walt's, pressing his hand down hard and grinding up into it.
“Oh, God, oh, God, so close, please,” he croaked, and Walt curled the fingers inside him into his prostate again and sent him over the edge. He spurted over his stomach and Walt's hand, and collapsed heavily back onto the bed.
While Jesse panted, Walt retracted his hands. He used one to give his own cock a brief squeeze while the other fumbled for the box of condoms. He got it open and got one out, and then turned back to find Jesse giving him a slightly wary look. “You don't need that. You know, for the record. I got tested in rehab.”
“I trust you, Jesse. This is for your sake.”
“What?”
“It'll get...messy. I don't want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Sex is supposed to be messy, Mr. White. And, seriously? I'm pretty messy already.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. You can clean me up after.”
Walt laughed and shook his head. He put the condom aside, and then he got another idea. Instead of reaching for the bottle of lube, he let his fingers play around Jesse's entrance again, circling around it, dipping briefly inside. Jesse's breathing stuttered.
“I thought you were ready.”
“I am. You're not.”
“But...”
“Shh, relax. You're stretched enough.” He pushed the same three fingers into him to prove it, wiggled them a little, and pulled them back out.
“So then what's the problem?”
Walt thrust his fingers back in, and then slid his palm over Jesse's still softening cock. He watched the muscles in Jesse's stomach flutter, and then followed his palm with his tongue, tasting Jesse's come.
Jesse gasped, and Walt did it again while Jesse squirmed and his cock stirred. He started talking, intermittently pausing to swipe his tongue along Jesse's length.
“I want to make you come again. I love making you come. Love hearing you. Love watching you. You come so hard for me. You think you can do that for me? Huh? Can you come for me again? Make me happy? Make me feel good?”
“I don't...”
“I want to feel you come while I'm inside you. Okay? Want to feel you clench all around me. God, you're so tight. Want to watch you spill, and know I did that to you, that I made you feel so good with my cock inside you.”
“Oh, Christ.”
“Come on, son, be my good boy. I want to see you get hard for me. You can do it.”
“O...okay.”
“Good. That's my good boy.” He wrapped his hand around Jesse's cock and stroked while he also worked his fingers inside him. He was mindful of Jesse's oversensitivity and tried to keep it gentle, but his own arousal was growing painful, and his urging became insistent, almost commanding. Jesse grit his teeth and breathed sharply through his nose, made small guttural noises in the back of his throat. It didn't take long before he was hard again, and Walt, in his relief that the moment was finally at hand, thanked him more than once for being such a good boy.
He lubed himself up and got into position, and slowly started pushing into Jesse. Jesse got too eager, rolled his hips and thrust back against him, and then froze; he sucked in air through his teeth.
“Shh, it's okay,” Walt panted, his eyes screwed tightly shut. It was all he could manage; he felt like if he didn't concentrate his might come right then. “God, Jesse, you feel so good,” he choked out after a moment. Jesse moaned, and Walt took that as a sign that he could move. Little by little, he eased in the rest of the way. Then he went still again. “You okay?”
Jesse looked at him with stunned, fragile eyes, and nodded.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“How does it feel?”
“Like...fuck, I don't know. Full.” He wrapped his arms more tightly around Walt's shoulders and pulled him down. Walt shifted his weight off his arms and returned the embrace. Their chests and stomachs were pressed tight together, Jesse's cock stiff and wet and throbbing between them.
Walt began to move--long, slow thrusts, luxuriating in the feel of Jesse all around him. He made sure to provide friction against Jesse's cock, and he adjusted his angle, waiting for Jesse to gasp and signal that he'd found the right spot.
When he hit it, Jesse didn't gasp; he mewled. Walt moaned at the sound and thrust harder, aiming for the same spot again. Jesse writhed, and then thrust back against him. Walt sped his pace and increased the force of his thrusts, brushing over Jesse's prostate again and again. He could feel warm precome being smeared across both of their stomachs, and he tried to increase the pressure against Jesse's cock without losing his momentum.
Jesse started to babble. “Oh, fuck, Mr. White, oh, shit, oh, shit, please, please, so close, please.”
Walt answered back with a flood of his own. “Shh, shh, that's alright, come on, son, come on, you can do it, come on, wanna feel you come for me, I need it, gonna make me feel so good, come on, please.”
As soon as that last word was out of his mouth, Jesse bucked against him. His whole body tightened, making Walt groan helplessly, and he came.
Walt stilled himself, taking idle pleasure in the heat of Jesse's come on his skin. As soon as Jesse unclenched, he started shaking. Walt was immediately alarmed.
“Hey, hey, what is it, what's the matter?”
Jesse just shook his head; Walt felt his hair sweeping back and forth against his neck.
“You okay?”
A nod this time, combined with a light squeeze around his shoulders.
The shaking began to subside, so Walt started talking again as he resumed his movements: you're okay, everything's okay, I've got you, you're safe, that's my boy, that's my good boy. He sped his thrusts, just driving toward the end now, and as he kept talking he was shocked to find himself wanting desperately to say something else...a new phrase that grew in his mind until it pushed everything else out.
After every utterance of good boy he felt the words threatening to slip out, and he held them back, not wanting to confuse Jesse-not wanting to even imagine the consequences of a misunderstanding. But holding them back made them pile up, form a lump in his throat and a weight in his chest until he felt like he might cry, and he couldn't have that, not in front of Jesse, not now, so he let them out, buried in a string of babble, half-hoping Jesse wouldn't hear. You're my good boy, Jesse, I love you.
Saying the words only made his emotional control slip that much further. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he found himself wanting to offer Jesse apologies for every moment of their partnership, to make him all kinds of ridiculous, impossible promises. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the impulse. When he heard what was coming out of his mouth, though, it was only Jesse's name, over and over and over, just Jesse, Jesse, Jesse. Jesse held him tighter, arched his hips, and answered him, shh, Mr. White, it's okay, I know, I love you, too, and Walt shuddered and finally came with Jesse's name still filling his mouth.
He went boneless in Jesse's arms, pressed his face into Jesse's neck and waited for his breathing to even out, and for his eyes to stop stinging. Once he felt in command of himself again, he tried to pull away, but Jesse held onto him.
“Wait, wait, not yet,” he insisted.
Walt was surprised. He leaned back as much as Jesse's grip would allow to look Jesse in the eye. “You okay?” he asked again.
“Yeah, I'm fine. Just...that was...Jesus, I don't even know.”
“I know. For me, too. It's okay.” He kissed his temple, and Jesse shivered. He tucked his head under Walt's chin and took a few deep breaths, exhaling humidly against Walt's chest.
Then: “Okay. Ready.” For a moment longer he stayed still, and then he slowly let his hands drop away from Walt's shoulders. Gently as he could, Walt slipped out of him and then dropped to his side on the bed. The loss of contact immediately troubled him, and with urgency he curled into Jesse, put a hand on his chest and brought his face in close to the side of Jesse's head. Jesse scooted in closer to him, and put his hand over Walt's.
Walt was dozing off when Jesse started to fidget.
“You were right,” he said suddenly.
“Right about what?”
“It is really uncomfortable. The mess, I mean.”
“Do you wanna get cleaned up?”
“Yeah.” He turned to look at Walt. “So, uh, you wanna help me get cleaned up?”
“You were being serious about that?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Walt could think of a bunch of reasons, but they all sounded stupid and hypocritical after everything else. And, really, there was no way to resist Jesse's hopeful look. “Okay, fine. You just relax. I'll get the bath ready.”
“Yes! You rock, Mr. White.”
Walt shook his head in amused disbelief as he, with considerable effort, dragged himself off the bed and into the bathroom. His emotions had calmed themselves, leaving him in a state of simple, relaxed happiness.
He wanted it to last forever.
************************************************
Walt took a quick shower before starting to fill the tub for Jesse. He dried off and then slipped into a pair of sweatpants he'd left discarded on the bathroom floor (amazing how even after a decade and a half of married life, the bad habits of his bachelorhood came back so easily), and then went back into the bedroom. Jesse had made himself comfortable: sprawled out on his stomach, his arms spread to the ends of the bed, half-asleep.
Walt took a moment to just look at him. Even taking up so much space, he looked small. Too skinny. Breakable.
How different would things be between them if Jesse were just a little bigger?
He approached the bed, and then walked the length of it, running his fingers over Jesse, from his feet up to the top of his head. Jesse shifted so he could look up at Walt, and gave him a smile.
“The water's running. Do you still want to do this, or do you want to go to sleep?”
“Wanna do this.”
“Okay. Then you have to get up.”
Jesse made a vague sound of negation.
“Jesse, as much as we both might enjoy the idea, I can't carry you.” He'd had occasion to try; Jesse was heavier than he looked.
“Too bad,” Jesse lamented, and then began the apparently arduous process of getting himself to his feet. Walt put his hands on Jesse's shoulders and started to walk him into the bathroom. At the first step Jesse winced, sucked in a breath, but kept going.
“Sore?”
“Yeah.”
“The bath should help. It was a good idea.”
They were crossing into the bathroom, and Walt saw in the mirror as the corner of Jesse's mouth twitched up. “We can pretend you thought of it, if you want, yo.”
As they came to a halt by the tub, Walt gave Jesse's shoulders a squeeze, and then dropped his hands. “No, I'll give you this one.”
“Yeah, I mean, it's not like it ever happens, right?”
“It happens enough.”
Jesse turned and gave him a look that was fond but also shy and assessing. Walt offered him a smile and Jesse returned it.
“Alright. In you go.” He put his hands on Jesse's sides while Jesse stepped awkwardly into the tub, making more pained sounds when he lifted each foot up over the rim. Walt kept supporting him as he slowly eased himself down into a sitting position. Then he turned off the water.
“How is it? Too hot?”
“No. It's perfect.” Jesse slouched down and leaned back against the wall of the tub.
“You should soak for a while. Do you want me to stay or come back?”
Jesse looked alarmed. “What? Stay. You hafta stay.”
“Okay. Okay, don't worry, I'm not leaving.” He put the lid on the toilet down and took a seat.
“So, how bad is it? The soreness.”
“Not too bad. Nothing a couple Tylenol won't fix, if I even need those when I get outta here.”
“Was it...?”
“Was it worth it?”
“Yeah.”
“For sure. I mean, I don't wanna...like you said, I don't wanna make this into something it's not, 'cuz I know what you meant when you said it and I meant the same thing...but I never felt anything like that before.”
Walt felt his stomach drop, and this time took a second to appreciate the sensation. “It was kind of intense, wasn't it? I have to admit, I didn't expect that.”
“Well, yeah, you were kinda focused on if it was gonna feel good. Which, you know, obviously it did. God, yo, I had no idea...but I kinda knew it would be intense or whatever. That's kinda why I wanted to.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Because we'd be...” He laced his fingers together, and Walt didn't know if he meant it as an illustration or if it was just something to do while he searched for the right word. “...Connected.”
“We already were connected.” It sounded defensive to his own ears, but it was still important to him that he say it.
“Yeah. But it doesn't always feel like it.” He gave Walt a look of apprehension and apology, but Walt couldn't get annoyed at the accusation he heard in Jesse's statement. He was right, after all.
“I know.”
“So it's a good thing. I mean, it was good anyway, right?” Walt nodded, but Jesse was already going on. “But it's good that we know. So it's not about owing or feeling guilty or anything, and whatever happens, we'll know that.”
“That's...that's a good way of looking at it. Smart.”
Jesse beamed. “Really?”
“Of course. You know, you've been...impressive over the past few days.”
Jesse's smile was more wan this time. “Yeah, well, the bar was kinda low.”
“That's not true.”
“No?”
“No.” But he couldn't really say any more without lying, so instead he changed the subject. “So, are you ready to get clean?”
“Sure.”
Walt grabbed a washcloth and moved to kneel beside the tub. He dipped the washcloth in the water and then poured a generous amount of bath soap onto it. After a moment's consideration, he started with the back of Jesse's neck.
“Mm,” Jesse hummed.
“Nice?”
“Yeah.”
They got quiet, and Walt concentrated on the task at hand, not lingering but doing a thorough and efficient job, washing Jesse's back, his chest, his arms. For the first time in days touching Jesse didn't heighten his senses, and so he just absently enjoyed it, both the mindlessness and the simple satisfaction. While he worked, he wondered idly about Jesse's tattoos, when he'd gotten them and what exactly they were supposed to be and what had caused him to imagine they actually looked cool.
He was distracted from these thoughts when he heard Jesse make a strange little choked noise, and he looked up to find him biting his lip, trying hard not to laugh.
“What?” he demanded.
Jesse let out a small chuff of amusement but mostly held himself under control. “It's just funny, Mr. White. Us doing this.” Walt was still tense, preparing himself to be offended or embarrassed, but Jesse smiled his open, sweet smile and continued. “I mean, how the hell did we get here? Honestly, yo, how is it that this was like the only thing we ever agreed on. The one thing we had in common.”
A low ache bloomed in Walt's chest at Jesse's use of the past tense, but it was more bittersweet than anything.
“Well, it makes sense, given a numbers of factors: our age difference, the fact that I was your teacher, your estrangement from your parents--”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Mr. White, I wasn't really asking. I'm just saying, when you think about it, it's kinda funny.”
If Jesse was going to take a step back and reflect, Walt thought, better he call it “funny” than “twisted” or “gross.” He could live with funny. Maybe he'd even decide he agreed. But he wasn't ready to say so, and when he opened his mouth to respond, not knowing what to say, what came out was, “You know, your tattoos are totally ridiculous.”
“Oh, screw you, man. Like you would know.”
“Is that thing supposed to be a dragon?”
Jesse splashed him.
“So immature,” he clucked disapprovingly, and Jesse laughed and did it again.
“Alright, alright, enough.”
He went back to work, washing Jesse's legs, working from the feet upward. Jesse held his breath and bit his lip when Walt got up to his inner thighs, and Walt made absent soothing noises as he carefully ran the washcloth over Jesse's cock. He made pains to be gentle and not stimulating, but when Jesse made a soft little noise in his throat, he couldn't stop himself from tracing his fingers over the area he'd just washed.
“Um...” Jesse started, and Walt pulled his hand away, but slowly.
“I know, it's okay, I know. I want to-God, I want to-but I know you've had enough. I don't want to hurt you.”
“Yeah, sorry, but--”
“Hey, no, don't apologize. It's okay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. I need you to get up on your knees for me now.”
Jesse complied, and after a little effort he was positioned so Walt could wash the back of his thighs and up over the curve of his ass to the small of his back.
“Alright, can you bend forward for me?”
Jesse did, and Walt absently praised him. Then, carefully, he ran the washcloth between Jesse's cheeks.
He set the washcloth aside.
“Okay, Jesse, I need you to relax, alright? This is only going to take a second. I just want to make sure you're okay.”
Jesse took a deep breath, and Walt slowly eased a finger into him, swirling it around, feeling for anything that might bother Jesse later, whether injuries or remnants of lube or come. After a moment, he sighed his relief and withdrew the finger, and signaled to Jesse that he could sit again: no tears, and mostly clean.
“Alright. You're done, unless you want me to wash your hair.”
“Nah, that's okay.”
“How about you soak for a while longer while I heat up our dinner? And then we'll get you out of there.”
“Cool.”
So he went out to the kitchen and prepared their food, and then went back into the bathroom to stand by while Jesse got himself out of the tub with no trouble.
“Feel better?”
“A lot, yeah.”
Walt got him a towel. Instead of handing it to him, though, he draped it around Jesse's shoulders, and then wrapped his arms around him, closed him in a hug. “Thank you,” he murmured to him.
“Yeah, yeah. Thank you.”
Walt pulled away. “Okay. Get dressed and I'll meet you out there.” He went back out to the kitchen.
Jesse took longer than expected, and when he came out he wasn't dressed for bed, but dressed to leave. Walt's heart lurched, but he didn't say anything. They ate their reheated burgers in silence, and it wasn't until they were done that Walt finally spoke up. “So, you're not staying?”
“You have to get up early tomorrow, and I thought...it might be harder that way. And...I dunno...I'm just ready, I guess.”
“I understand,” he replied, and he did. Jesse gave him a grateful smile. He stood up and moved toward the door, and Walt followed him.
“Keep in touch. I wanna know what's going on, yo. We've got...we've got a lot of shit to shovel, still.”
“I know. I'll keep you apprised.”
“Okay, good. Let me know if you need me.” He paused, then added, “And I mean, for whatever. Get me?”
“Yeah, I got you. Same to you, alright?”
Jesse stepped toward him with open arms, and Walt hugged him, kissed the side of his head. “You're going to be okay, Jesse.”
“I know. I know.” He took a deep breath, and then pulled away, and smiled. “I'm gonna be fine.”
**The End**