Walt takes Jesse back to his apartment when their kisses start to bleed into something possessive and needy and consuming. "Nice place," Jesse says after they come in from the cold. Walt slides a hand around the back of Jesse's neck and squeezes, just enough to feel him tense at the touch. He doesn't know how much Jesse wants or how far he can push until they're too far on the cusp of something they can't come back from. He's thought a lot about getting Jesse here, but this is real and terrifying and fills up the room like a tangible thing.
"Jesse," he murmurs.
Jesse turns his head, and Walt's kissing him again, grazing his teeth over the edge of Jesse's jaw hard enough to make him whimper something that sounds a lot like surrender.
Jesse sighs, "Mr. White," and Walt bites at his throat, sucks a kiss that's going to bruise later over his Adam's apple, and somehow Jesse ends up with his back shoved against the front door and his fingers folded around Walt's shirt.
Then Jesse glances down, his lips uncoupled, and Walt follows his gaze to see that his own thigh is shoved between Jesse's legs. So that firm heat Walt's feeling is—
Oh.
Jesse looks at him, as if anticipating a response, but having Jesse's dick pressed against his thigh has turned Walt's brain to glue, so he just sort of stares at where they're connected. There's a moment of silence where neither of them know what to do, and no one moves until Jesse pushes against Walt's thigh with his hips. His lips bite together to trap a needy sound. Then he rocks into Walt again. And again. And again, until his hands clutch harder in Walt's shirt and his mouth lets out a shaky little moan.
Walt can't do anything but respond to that, shoving his thigh forward to complement the way Jesse's grinding into it. Jesse gasps, a ragged inhale of air, and Walt freezes, making sure he hasn't made some sort of unwanted advance. But Jesse keeps pushing, grateful for the friction. Walt pins him against the wall like he thinks he can crawl through him. Jesse makes an overwhelmed, needy moan and reaches up, grabbing Walt's jaw with both hands and pulling his mouth over his own. He kisses like he talks, with a sort of messy, angry energy, and Walt keeps pumping his thigh into Jesse's thrusts.
Christ, they're having sex; Walt's not as involved as he'd like to be, but it's still sex. He pushes harder, and Jesse drags his nails over the back of Walt's neck and moans, "Mr. White," around his mouth. Walt thinks about shoving his hand down the front of his jeans and just jerking him off now, but he wants Jesse to work for it, to earn it. By the way Jesse's breathing he'll blow his load in the next thirty seconds.
He grips Walt tighter, lifts his hips up a little so he can grind on Walt's thigh in a way that makes him groan unspeakably hot noises. Walt shoves forward again, and that knocks out the last shreds of Jesse's control. Jesse whimpers and jerks his hips through his orgasm, and there's so much here that Walt wants to savor and burn into his memory. Watching Jesse come is the hottest fucking thing he's ever seen—especially the way he bites his lip and moans around it—and Walt wants to make it happen again.
Jesse's grip slackens on Walt's shirt, and he tips his head back against the wall with his eyes closed and lips parted in bliss. He's breathing out quiet, shuddery little sounds into the silence as Walt pushes forward in small pulses to wring out the aftershocks. Jesse's fingers catch on Walt's shirt sleeves and make a lazy attempt to tug him closer. "Fuck," he breathes out. He pries his eyes open, half-lidded, and his mouth pulls into a smirk at one corner. "That was awesome."
Walt just had sex with someone who still says "awesome;" he should probably be disappointed about that, but he doesn't even care—Jesse is fucking perfect and his. Walt eases in closer, hesitating now, because Jesse might reconsider this whole arrangement when the post-orgasm lassitude fades. But Walt gets pressed up against him, and Jesse can clearly feel Walt's dick there, because his gaze flickers down and then back up.
"You want me to do you?" There's an innocent sort of filth in it, and Walt loves it. He answers that by crushing his mouth over Jesse's, and Jesse goes momentarily stiff before relaxing into the kiss, like it's their first time all over again.
Walt drags Jesse into the bedroom while Jesse's hands fumble with Walt's belt. Walt reaches down to help him, but Jesse's got it covered, sliding the leather out from its loops and flicking open the button of his pants. Jesse gets them on the bed, plants his knees on either side of Walt's thighs. Walt gasps in startled want when Jesse lays his free hand on his shoulder for balance, tugging Walt's cock out through the little flap in his underwear. Jesse's fingers are hot around him, unpracticed and already slippery with pre-cum. His thumb drags over the head, his fist squeezing with a gentle pressure that makes Walt moan a noise he's going to deny making later. He gets his hands full of Jesse's oversized hoodie to tug him closer.
Jesse wets his lips and flicks his gaze up to Walt's face, trying to read his expression. "Is this good?"
Walt manages a nod. His entire body shudders when Jesse's fist starts its slow slide. It's a little awkward, and obvious that Jesse's never done this for anyone but himself—at least at this angle—but it doesn't matter because Walt's not going to last long at all. His hips buck into Jesse's wrist, and there's a twitch of a smile on Jesse's mouth. Walt shifts between watching Jesse's hand slide up, down, up, down, and watching the look of concentration on his face as he jerks Walt slow and easy. Walt tightens his grip on Jesse's hoodie, biting the inside of his lip to make himself stay quiet, but Jesse's breaking him apart piece by piece with the way his fist opens and closes around his dick. "Jesse," Walt groans, like he's dying. "That's good, Jesse."
Jesse beams and sinks down on his knees a little so he can kiss him, hungry and desperate, like doing this for Walt means that he has to feel it too. His other hand slides around the back of Walt's neck, nails scraping over the skin, and Walt shoves his hips forward, because if he doesn't come right now he might actually die. Walt's gasping, "Jesse," again and again and dripping all over Jesse's fingers.
"C'mon, Mr. White, give it up for me," Jesse coaxes, stroking him faster and pressing kisses over his mouth. Walt breathes hot into the hollow of Jesse's throat, bites at the skin with his teeth. Jesse whimpers and tents his fingers at the tip of Walt's dick, wrenching a moan out of him.
"Fuck, Jesse," he whines, because he's so close, and Jesse's stroking him just right. Jesse's fist slides down to the base of his cock, and Walt comes like it's his first time in years, gasping and jerking his hips as he lets go. His world is vague and fuzzy white, but he can still feel the soft squeeze of Jesse's fist and hot breath over his skin. Walt can't even remember the last time he came like that, orgasmed so hard the world went away for a few blank, blissful seconds. Christ, Jesse's not even that good at handjobs.
His breathing's still shuddery when he opens his eyes. He tips his head up to lock his mouth over Jesse's. Jesse's fingers stroke over him, slick and slippery with cum. Walt reaches up and tugs at the zipper of Jesse's hoodie, and if Jesse notices he doesn't seem to care, too busy catching Walt's mouth over and over until the hoodie slides off of his shoulders. Jesse gasps a short, startled sound, and Walt sweeps a hand underneath Jesse's t-shirt and follows the line of his back. Jesse squirms, swings his legs around Walt's hips and sits in his lap, hands atop Walt's shoulders and fingers curled in his shirt.
Jesse's mouth is all intensity and all-consuming over Walt's own. It's hard to feel anything else but raw, desperate need when Jesse's touching him like this. Walt tugs at Jesse's shirt, exposing the smooth curve of his throat, and he can't help but latch his mouth there and bite at his collarbone. Jesse grunts, his hands falling away, and Walt's about to ask what he's done wrong when Jesse reaches down, catches the bottom of his shirt and pulls it over his head. He tosses it across the room, but all Walt can focus on is the long line of Jesse's body and the way his muscles stretch and pull.
Walt finds his throat impossibly dry.
He's pretty fucking stunned that this is happening, but Walt gets his hands on him, and Jesse sighs out a breath, like he needed Walt to touch him or he'd go out of his mind. Walt skims over Jesse's chest, over his back, and digs his nails in. Jesse grinds in Walt's lap, makes a frustrated noise and pulls him in closer. His skin is hot and jumpy under Walt's hands. Walt presses his mouth to Jesse's chest, tongue trailing over the tattoo there. Jesse tips his head back and moans, drags his nails over Walt's head in a way that feels like trails of fire.
It takes Walt a minute—or five—to finally jerk Jesse's jeans over his hips, because Jesse's body is a thing to be worshipped, and Walt doesn't know if he's going to get this opportunity again. Jesse's got slick, red kisses sucked into his skin by the time he lifts his hips up to help Walt tug his jeans the rest of the way down. Jesse's already hard again, which shouldn't surprise Walt, but it does anyway. Walt reaches back blindly, feeling for the drawer of the night stand, and when he manages to find the bottle Jesse's chest shudders in a panic. "Oh—oh God, Mr. White, I don't—I don't think you're gonna fit. Do we have to—"
"I'm not going to do that," Walt murmurs, and Jesse breathes out in what sounds like relief. He watches everything, watches Walt get his fingers slick and ease Jesse's thighs open just enough to slide a slippery digit in. Jesse gasps a noise that's obscene and grips at Walt's shoulders.
"Oh God..."
"It's okay," Walt murmurs into the hollow of Jesse's throat, "it's okay. You're doing good." Jesse drinks up the praise like a man dying of thirst, and Walt presses in a little deeper, nips at the curve of his jaw to distract him. Jesse claws at his back, rolls his hips into the press of Walt's hand, and Walt's intoxicated by the way Jesse pulls him in, hot and greedy, nails digging into his shoulder as he breathes out, "Mr. White," over and over. Jesse tilts his hips for a better angle, moans out a shuddery sound when one finger turns into two. Jesse's shaking as he steadies himself and straightens up, and he looks so fucking wrecked already. Walt feels his cock twitch at the sight of him, then Jesse's tipping his head down for another kiss that doesn't land quite right, but it doesn't matter because he tries again, finds Walt's mouth and bites at his bottom lip.
Jesse's nails drag over his scalp, and Walt can feel the way he's tensing and twitching around his fingers. "Come on, Jesse, come for me," Walt says before Jesse's mouth crushes against his own, hips rocking back against his hand. He swallows Jesse's moan and tips his head a little so he can murmur, "That's it, like that," at Jesse's ear.
Jesse groans, "Mr. White," gasping in a breath, and their mouths collide again. His hands are shaking, his orgasm like a taut string ready to be plucked, and he's stuttering half-words around Walt's name, cut through with things like, "please," and "yes." Walt pauses for a moment to take this all in; Jesse's a quivering, beautiful mess right now because of him, his dick hard and tight against his stomach.
Walt strokes slow and easy while Jesse mewls out something needy and clutches around his fingers. But Walt doesn't rush, even as Jesse's bucking his hips backwards and begging for it. "That's it, Jesse, come for me. Just like this," Walt says softly. Jesse claws at his shirt and forces their mouths together. Walt wraps his free hand around Jesse's hip, breathes out, "Come on, Jesse, that's my good boy," and Jesse's fucking gone, coming like it's been punched out of him. His whole body's gone tight, and Walt sighs over his mouth and swallows another one of Jesse's moans. Walt's still stroking his fingers inside of him, and Jesse's hips roll back in languid waves to ride it out.
"Shit," Jesse slurs out. His limbs give up entirely, and he slumps impossibly further into Walt's arms like he's trying to melt into him. He's breathing quick against Walt's shoulder, and Walt's a little dizzy too. This is a tricky space where things could easily go wrong, so he doesn't say anything, just presses kisses over Jesse's chest and throat until Jesse pulls Walt's face up to kiss his mouth.
"Was that too much?" Walt asks.
"Hell no, man! That was awesome!" Jesse huffs a laugh and rests his chin atop Walt's shoulder. "I could totally get used to that."
Walt knows that he could too.
#
Walt wakes up to a naked Jesse Pinkman in his bed.
Jesse's sprawled out over half of the mattress, sleeping on his stomach with his arms looped greedily around the pillow. There's a tattoo etched between his shoulder blades that Walt's never seen before. He thinks about running his fingers over it, but he'd rather savor this little cusp of time where Jesse looks pure and innocent and isn't making dumb jokes or saying something ridiculous. Walt wants to bottle this moment and preserve it forever; he thinks he understands how Jesse got sucked into the treadmill of drug abuse, the never-ending search for that perfect high. If moments like these were in pills or needles...Walt could get so fucking lost.
Jesse stirs, moans a little sound of contentment into the pillow. His eyes pry open, and Walt drowns in the sea of blue. "Yo," he murmurs, a sleepy smile on the corners of his lips. Jesse's hair is a wild mess that Walt can't bring himself to tame. He actually wants to make love to him. Christ.
Jesse cuddles closer and rests his head on Walt's chest. Walt doesn't try to move away, just lets Jesse use him as a make-shift pillow. Jesse lays a hand over Walt's stomach. "So, are we, like, a thing now?"
Walt smiles at that, because deep down inside he's a ten-year-old girl. "I suppose we are."
"Wow, could you sound less excited about it?" Jesse breathes a sleepy laugh. "I guess you're not a huge fan of all that cheesy couple shit, huh?" He presses his fingertips in, five little points of heat on Walt's skin.
Walt covers Jesse's hand with his own, and Jesse stills like he's done something wrong. "Care to give an example?"
"Going out together, staying in together, breakfast in bed... And I really dig morning sex." Jesse wiggles his eyebrows.
Walt feels the slow burn of want.
"But," Jesse says, dragging out the word as his hand lies flat, "since you think that kind'a stuff's lame, you don't get to experience my bitchin' pancake recipe."
Did Walt just talk himself out of pancakes? "I didn't say no to any of these things."
"That's the spirit." Jesse pats Walt's chest before sitting up and folding at the waist to retrieve his boxers off of the floor. Jesse wiggles his hips a little as he gets dressed, and Walt refuses to believe that wasn't for his benefit. He pads out to the kitchen while Walt finds his pants discarded haphazardly on the floor.
When Walt gets into in the dining room, he sees Jesse gazing out the window in wonder like a child on Christmas morning. "The snow's melting," Jesse says, and Walt can hear the frown in his voice.
"It was nice while it lasted." Walt comes up behind him and lays his hands on Jesse's impossibly tiny waist. Jesse startles at first but relaxes into the touch, tips his head back against Walt's shoulder. Walt breathes him in and feels the world go still for a moment or two. He hadn't realized how much he missed this kind of intimacy until now, the silent, comfortable little moments hiding in the mundane. "So, how about those pancakes?"
Jesse grins and slithers out of Walt's embrace to make his way into the kitchen. "Alright, now we're talkin'." He starts searching through cabinets and the fridge for the proper ingredients. Walt wonders if there's something profound in how he's exchanged one gorgeous, blue-eyed blonde who makes him breakfast for younger, more penis-y model. He must have a type.
"Yo, what's the deal with Captain Nerd?" Jesse asks as he's mixing ingredients together. Walt makes an attempt to help, but Jesse nudges him away. "I got this."
"You mean Gale?"
"Yeah. You ever notice he's always kissin' your ass like it's his job?"
The corner of Walt's mouth tugs into a smile. "It sort of is. For the first few months I worked there, Gus was trying to get us together."
Jesse drops the wooden spoon he's holding in shock. "You and Gale?" He snickers, doubles over with laughter. "Oh man, that's—that's—I can't even imagine that! Why would Mr. Fring try to hook you up with Gale?"
Walt shrugs. "I think he wants to give people a chance at the happiness he had himself with Max."
Jesse bites his lip and stares down at the counter in thought, because, oh yeah, Max died and took half of Gus' heart with him.
"He wasn't very subtle about his intentions once you showed up," Walt adds.
Jesse looks amused. "Seriously? So, what, we're some sort of weird lab experiment Mr. Fring's got goin'?"
Walt admits, "He didn't have to push me in your direction," and the flush on Jesse's face is totally worth Walt's fleeting chagrin.
A knock on the door makes them freeze and look at each other. "You got some other fuck-buddy you haven't told me about?" Jesse says with a lilt of a smirk.
Walt opens his mouth to contest that, but he's already reached his daily quota of emotional breakthroughs, so he says nothing and gets up to answer the door. He peers through the peephole and, oh no.
Fuck.
Shit.
Walt spins around and rushes to Jesse. "You need to hide."
Jesse's mouth drops open. "I was right? Dude, I was just kidding! Are you serious?"
Walt shakes his head. "It's Skyler—my ex-wife. She cannot see you here!" He's dragging Jesse down the hall and into the bedroom.
"She doesn't know you're into guys?"
Walt holds on very tightly to the words, "Neither did I." Instead, he grabs Jesse's clothes off of the bedroom floor and shoves them into Jesse's arms. "Just get dressed."
Jesse looks like he's been gutted. "You want me to leave?" Jesus, with that tone of voice you'd think Walt just kicked a puppy.
"No, no, just...give me a minute, okay?"
Jesse nods, yanks his jeans over his hips. Walt manages to stop staring long enough to walk out of the room, shutting the door behind him before he answers Skyler's impatient knocking. "Sorry, I was on the phone."
Skyler gives him her patented "so done with your bullshit" stare and lets herself inside. She looks him over. "Are those the same clothes you wore yesterday?"
Walt opens his mouth, closes it.
Skyler lifts her eyebrows in a particularly judgemental way. "I guess you liked the wine."
Walt's first instinct is to argue that he didn't drink last night, but that opens up so many potentially humiliating avenues that he's not ready to explore yet. "It's good to see you too, Sky."
She unzips her purse and reaches inside. "Remember how we used to find a couple stragglers the day after Christmas?" Skyler hands him a small box wrapped in glistening paper. "This time it's for you instead of Junior."
Walt's curiousity leads him to tug the wrapping open, and— "Condoms. Really?"
"It was Hank's idea."
"I knew it," Walt growls.
"Don't be such a grouch. You're a bachelor; you actually get to use these now." Skyler taps a perfectly-manicured fingernail on the box, whispers, "They're ribbed for her pleasure."
Walt hates Hank a little right now. Hank is dead to him. "Did you come here just to give me condoms?"
"Yes. Yes, I did," Skyler says seriously. Walt notices the familiar silver necklace he'd given her for Christmas draped around her throat, a sapphire bauble hanging from the chain. Skyler sees that he sees it, and her cheeks flush pink as her hand flies up to her chest to cover the jewel. "It matches my blouse."
Walt feels the pieces come together in his head. "I see your game. The wine, the condoms, the sheets. This is all a ploy to get me back, isn't it?"
Skyler gasps, scandalized. "Wh—what? Why would you—How do you even—No!"
"You heard about the shop expanding its business last night, and you realize you made a stupid, thoughtless mistake presenting me with those divorce papers."
"A mistake? Walter, you were out of the house before the ink was dry!"
"You just can't accept that I'm successful now, that I call the shots in my own life!"
"Do you even listen to yourself? What—"
They freeze, mouths agape and silent as rap music blares from tiny speakers in the bedroom. Skyler fixes Walt with a look, and Walt turns his head in the direction of the sound. "That—that must be my alarm."
He rushes down the hallway with Skyler hot on his heels. That's when Walt sees that the music's coming from Jesse's phone—which he's left lying on the bed. Skyler knows Walt's face well enough to know he's hiding something—or someone. "Your alarm. On your second cell phone?"
"I could have two," Walt argues. "Y'know, for work."
Skyler clearly isn't buying that. "What a shame; those condoms would've come in handy last night."
Walt shuts his eyes in pain.
"Is she here? I want to meet her."
Oh God. "Uh—I—I don't think that's a good idea." Skyler ignores him, heads in the direction of the bathroom. "Skyler, wait!"
Skyler swings open the bathroom door, and, fucking Christ, Jesse's caught trying to hide behind the shower curtain—fully clothed, at least. Jesse gives them a sheepish smile. "Yo."
Walt scrubs a hand over his face.
"Yo," Skyler says with caution. She glances back at Walt, then at Jesse again, as if asking for an explanation. Walt can't blame her; if he found some random dude in their bathroom he'd be asking some questions too.
In a moment that Walt's mistaken for brilliance, he says, "Skyler, this—this is Jesse. He sells me pot."
Jesse's smile falls away, replaced almost immediately by devastation. He looks like he's been slapped, and Walt feels the sting of his lie reflected on Jesse's face.
"Pot?" Skyler doesn't seem like she's in disbelief, because Walt's a study in mid-life crises, so clearly anything is possible. But she does appear to be judging him for being stupid enough to let her actually discover his little secret. "You're buying pot the day after Christmas?"
"That's when all the sales are," Jesse says, attempting to be helpful. Walt honestly thought he couldn't feel more mortified.
Skyler studies Jesse for a moment, sizing him up, searching for a thread to pull in Walt's lie. Jesse's eyes go wide with fear. "And you let him inside?"
"It's not a crime to be friends with your dealer," Jesse says with offense. Walt thinks Jesse's falling way too deeply into the role he's playing here.
"Friends," Skyler repeats, suspicion around the word. She lets out a surprised little sound and shakes her head. "I should—I should go."
Dread wraps around Walt's chest as he follows her to the front door. "But you just got here."
"Clearly I've interrupted something, and I have a sister who would just love to know all about this."
Walt's jaw drops. There is no way Skyler could be that evil. "Are you trying to punish me?"
She laughs an actual, genuine laugh he hasn't heard from her in ages. "Punish you? Walter, this is—so many of the things that have happened over the last few months make so much sense now. It's like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders." She places a hand on his arm. Her touch doesn't burn him the way Jesse's does. He wonders if it's because of the familiarity or something else entirely. "So, no, I'm not punishing you: I understand you."
Walt doesn't know what's going on anymore, but there's a sick feeling brewing in his gut anyway. "You cannot tell Marie."
"I've got divorce papers that say otherwise," Skyler says with a tight smile before she leaves.
Through the window, Walt watches her walk to her car and dig her cell phone out of her purse. "Oh, come on, Skyler, at least wait until you're out of the driveway!"
"What's she doing?" Jesse asks, shuffling into the living room.
"Calling her sister."
"Is her sister a cop?" Jesse panics.
"Worse—a gossip."
"How is that worse?" he asks in a way that says he knows exactly why, he just wants to hear Walt say it out loud.
Walt's human enough to know he should feel guilty for that. He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. "I don't want people knowing my private affairs."
"And that would be what? Buying pot from me or fucking me?"
"Jesse..."
"No, c'mon, I think I deserve a straight answer! Why are you ashamed of me? She's your ex-wife; why should you give a shit if she knows you're sleeping with somebody else? She probably is too!"
"Jesse," Walt growls, like he's restraining himself from doing or saying something awful.
"This is bullshit! You think I wanted this? I fall in love with your miserable, ungrateful ass and this is how you treat me? You can't just use me up and then throw me out like trash, alright? I'm worth more than that." The fury in Jesse's eyes snuffs out like a plug's been pulled. He glances down at his feet and rubs a hand over his face in a way that's clumsy and defensive. "At least I should be."
Walt's having genuine trouble with this, because Jesse's just admitted that he loves him, and Walt feels things slot into place that weren't there before, things that are deeply confusing and make perfect sense all at once. "You love me?"
Jesse shuts his eyes in pain, as if he expects to be mocked or yelled at for this. "Forget it." He makes for the door, but Walt stops him with a gentle, firm hand curled around his arm.
"No, no forgetting, Jesse. Is that how you really feel?"
"What, that every time you do something nice you gotta do something that, like, cancels it out? Just to remind me of how much of a dick you can be?"
"I don't have to," Walt says, because of course that's the part he focuses on. Jesse's expression tells Walt his words aren't helping. "Alright, look, Jesse, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for whatever I've done or said that's given you the impression that I don't want this—that I don't want you. Because I do. Very much. It's new and different and frightening, so you have to help me here and tell me what you want, because if you don't I can't possibly know."
Jesse nods, frown still tight on his mouth and between his eyebrows, but he seems to be mulling it over. "I don't want you to be ashamed of me. If we're gonna do this, you can't—you can't be hiding me when your family comes over or whatever. Own up to your shit."
Walt feels oddly defensive about Jesse referring to himself that way, however casually, but he lets it go, says, "I can do that." He wraps his hands around Jesse's wrists and tugs him closer so he can kiss his mouth. "I just got overwhelmed this morning. I haven't done a lot of thinking about this—this part of it. I never thought we would get this far."
Jesse stares up at him in awe. "You thought about us?"
"More than I should have," Walt says, and it hurts to admit.
Jesse smiles, like no one has ever thought about him that way before. He moves in closer, and Walt curls a hand around the back of Jesse's head, fingers threading through his hair. "How come you never told me?"
Walt scoffs.
Jesse chuckles, and Walt can feel the heat of his breath through his shirt. "Okay, I get why you didn't say anything. It's like pulling teeth from the goddamn root to get you to talk about your feelings."
Walt thinks that's pretty accurate.
After breakfast, Jesse grabs his phone off of the bed and checks the missed calls. Walt's got his arms locked around Jesse's waist, mouth latched at the back of his neck. Jesse sighs, leans back into the hard line of Walt's body. He presses a button, listens through the rings. "Yo, it's me."
Walt thinks he hears Mike's voice on the other end, but he can't be totally sure. His fingers dig in to Jesse's hips a little harder. Jesse's skin tightens at the touch, and he grinds his ass against Walt's crotch.
"Yeah, everything's cool," Jesse says into the phone. "I was in the shower."
Walt smirks to himself. Not a total lie.
"So, hey, listen, I'm, uh, I'm gonna have to take a rain-check on that. I'm sorta...booked up today," Jesse says, and Walt can hear the quiver in his voice. He edges his fingers underneath Jesse's shirt, pushing at the loosened edge of his jeans. Jesse sucks in a tiny breath and reaches back, wraps his free hand around Walt's forearm. "No, no, c'mon, man. Nothin' like that... Yeah, I will. You too. Alright. Peace." He snaps his phone shut and turns around so he's facing Walt. "Well, looks like I'm all yours today."
Jesse's mouth is so close Walt can't do anything but crush his own against it.
#
Walt and Jesse slink into the shop the next morning like they've committed some unspeakable crime they're ashamed of. Gale glances up from behind the counter, sees Walt, and smiles. "Walter, good morning! I started the first pot of the day. I hope you don't mind."
Walt holds his hands up as if to say, "don't worry about it." "Good initiative."
Gale notices that Jesse's there too. "Did you two carpool today?"
Jesse smirks at Walt with lips that have covered almost every inch of him. "Yeah, you could say that."
Walt wishes Jesse had let him answer that, because Gale probably noticed Jesse's car is in the lot this morning. But Gale doesn't question it, and Walt moves behind the counter just as Gus pushes out of his office. "Oh, Walter. Just the man I'm looking for." He sees Jesse, gives him a cordial smile and a nod. "Jesse."
Jesse does the same before turning to the counter; Walt notices a flush creep up his neck.
"Step into my office, if you don't mind." Walt does as Gus asks and opts to stand—this probably won't take very long. Clearly, Gus has a question about inventory or deployment sheets or— "Was your experience satisfactory?"
Walt blinks. "What?"
"You and Jesse."
Walt feels his heart in his throat. "What are you talking about?"
"You're a smart man, Walter. Don't make me spell this out."
Walt tries to speak, but words are failing him spectacularly right now.
"Jesse's car has been parked in our lot since yesterday. Coupled with the way you two have been growing closer, exchanging friendly banter, and staying after hours, your arriving together now certainly makes it all clear, doesn't it?"
Walt opens his mouth, closes it. "That doesn't—that—you're reaching, Gus."
"I don't think that I am. You were very concerned for him when he missed work, concern that does not seem to extend to Gale."
Walt searches for a thread to pull in Gus's theory. He doesn't find one, so he's going to go with Plan B and just blame Gus entirely for this. "You hired Jesse because we had, and I quote, 'chemistry.'"
Gus smiles and gives a small shrug. "I hired him because of his skill. The chemistry is just a bonus."
"Most employers don't encourage this kind of fraternization."
"Then you should be happy I am not like most employers."
"So, what's the point of all this? Are you firing us?"
Gus lifts his eyebrows like he's appalled by the very idea. "Heavens no."
"Then this little talk is, what, to embarrass me?"
"If I wanted to embarrass you, I would have strung a huge sign out front reading, 'Congratulations, Walt and Jesse!'"
Walt's eyes go wide. "Never, ever do that."
Gus grins. "I make no promises."