Marie shows up around one in the afternoon looking absolutely scandalized all the way up the queue. Walt tries to pass her off to Gale when she arrives at the counter, but Marie snags Walt before he can leave. "Oh no, mister. I'd like to have a word with you."
Walt sighs. "Will that be all?"
Marie studies the menu for a moment. "Medium cherry white chocolate."
Walt groans, because that's a frappuccino—Jesse's area of expertise. "One moment." He scribbles the order on the side of the cup and sticks his head into the kitchen. "Jesse?"
Jesse takes the cup and jogs out to fill the order. But that's when Marie puts two and two together. "Jesse?" He whirls around, looking like the cat that ate the canary—although in this situation the canary is probably Walt. "Of Walt and Jesse?"
Do people actually call them that, like they're a cheesy '70's pop duo? Move over, Simon and Garfunkel; watch out, Captain and Tennille—Walt and Jesse are on the scene.
"Okay, I can definitely see the appeal," Marie says with an appraising look on her face. Jesse doesn't say anything, but his expression bleeds terror out of every pore. "I'm Marie, by the way—Walt's sister-in-law. I've heard a lot about you."
"All good, I hope."
Marie looks a little sheepish, and Walt nudges Jesse to gets him started on the drink. "What did Skyler tell you?" Walt asks Marie in a grumble.
"Just that you had a new blond you'll be using those condoms and sheets with."
"Oh my God." Jesse nearly drops the cup on his foot.
Walt groans. "Jesus, Marie. A little tact, please?"
She waves a hand like he's being irrational. "I just had to come over here and see for myself, especially when she told me 'Jesse' is a he."
The blender starts up its familiar mating call. Walt leans on the counter to talk to her over the noise. "Did you really come in to my place of business to humiliate me?"
"Humiliate you? Walt, I'm proud of you! He's very pretty." Walt is so glad Jesse can't hear this conversation. "And at your age! I mean, how do you keep up?"
She can't possibly want an actual answer to that question. "Does Hank know?"
Marie just gives him a look. Hank totally knows...and Hank has actually met Jesse. Shit.
The blender's shriek dies down into silence. Jesse tops the drink with whip, pink and white chocolate shavings, and strawberry powder before handing the cup to Marie. "Here ya go."
Marie grins at Walt. "Oh, and so polite too!" At Walt's furious expression, she says, "Would you relax? I'm just giving you a hard time. C'mon. I'm Skyler's sister first, and your friend second."
"Where is Hank in all of this?"
"Okay, so you've been demoted to third place." She pats Walt's arm. "Proud of yourself?"
Walt just grumbles and takes her crisp five-dollar bill before she walks out the door. "Still want me to, and I quote, 'own up to my shit'?" he says to Jesse.
"Absolutely. You're cute as hell when you're embarrassed."
Walt thinks he's going to be goddamn adorable by the time Hank and Junior find out.
#
A half hour after close on Monday night, Walt notices a missed text from Jesse: you must be made of uranium and iodine... cuz all I can see is U and I ;)
Walt makes a groaning noise that becomes a laugh about half-way through, because try as he might he just can't resist being charmed by Jesse's frustratingly entertaining sense of humor. He'd miss these silly messages if they stopped happening. Walt doesn't know why that thought fills him with so much dread.
He peeks into the kitchen just in time to catch Jesse sneaking a couple spoonfuls of cookie dough off of the log in the fridge. "Jesse?"
Jesse startles and bangs his head on the freezer door as he straightens up. "Ow! Fuck!"
"You know you're not supposed to eat raw cookie dough."
"Eh, eat me," Jesse grumbles, then: "Oh shit, I can't say that anymore; you actually might."
Walt moves in closer. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Jesse's face flushes; Walt still takes a fair amount of pride in that despite it being relatively easy to do. Jesse drops his gaze to the roll of dough he's holding and digs his spoon in again. Before Walt can begin about the dangers of salmonella, the spoon is shoved into his mouth, quelling any protest. Walt frowns around it to show his disapproval.
"Oh, c'mon, unclench already. I've been eatin' this stuff raw for, like, years and I haven't died."
The corner of Walt's mouth quirks upwards. "So, you're saying you like it raw?"
Jesse grins. "Mr. White's got the jokes today."
Walt feels like Jesse ought to just call him "Walt" at this point, but he can't help but like the authoritative sound of "Mr. White." He's really glad he didn't explore this teacher/student kink until he stopped being a teacher. "Who says I was joking?"
Jesse draws in a shaky, shuddery breath; his face is an awesome shade of red right now. Walt waits patiently for one of Jesse's signature smart-ass comebacks, but apparently Walt's flirtation has knocked Jesse's brain off its tracks. Jesse fumbles with the spoon, edges off another piece for himself before he asks, "So, uh, you wanna, like, hang out or somethin' tonight?"
"'Hang out'?"
"Yeah, y'know, chill out, watch a movie, play Xbox..." Jesse runs out of examples and shrugs. "People usually do stuff together on New Year's—unless you already got somethin' planned." His eyes are wide like he's afraid he's trampled on some sort of boundary.
"Don't you have any other friends?" Walt teases, but he's not ready for Jesse's response to that.
"Not really."
The words strike Walt like a mighty blow. "What about Beaver and what's-his-name?"
Jesse shrugs, takes a step back and leans against the fridge. "They use," he says simply.
"They left because you wanted to get clean?" God, that's messed up.
Jesse shakes his head and takes another spoonful. "I did. I hang out with 'em sometimes, but not as much as I used to. They're totally cool with it." He gives Walt a half-smile around a mouthful of cookie dough. "Guess you're stuck with me."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Jesse snorts and smiles like an idiot, and Walt feels pieces of himself settle into place.
#
Jesse makes a rather pathetic attempt at cleaning up his place before Walt's supposed to arrive. It's not as if his house is dirty, it's just really messy and cluttered with things tossed haphazardly in places they don't belong. He tidies up the usual suspects: the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom. Then he realizes in horror that Walt's his boyfriend now, which means they might end up in the bedroom.
Jesse's racing up the stairs as an impatient knock that could only belong to Walt makes him stumble and nearly topple over. Walt looks grumpy when Jesse swings the door open, as if the ten seconds it took him to answer it were simply too long to wait. "Yo, I was just, uh, fixin' up the place," Jesse says, slightly out of breath.
Walt doesn't wait to be invited, just barges in as he's prone to doing. Jesse notices that Walt's wearing different clothes than he was wearing earlier today at the café. He doesn't know what to do with that piece of information. Maybe Walt wanted to look especially nice tonight? Jesse's mouth clearly has no connection whatsoever to his brain, because he blurts out, "So, you look hot," then immediately wishes he could grab the words back.
"Thank you, Jesse." It doesn't sound like Walt's second-guessing this whole "dating Jesse" thing, but that doesn't mean he's not. "Incidentally, so do you."
Jesse tries to pretend like it's not a huge fucking deal to get a compliment from Walt. "Thanks." He gets the urge to kiss Walt; that's a thing he can do now, and he should totally take advantage of this newfound privilege. He moves in closer, gets his hands full of Walt's jacket and brings their mouths together. It's a little slow and awkward, but Walt doesn't seem to judge him for it, just kisses him harder and wraps his hands around Jesse's hips.
Jesse gasps out, "Mr. White," around Walt's mouth, and Walt pushes a hand underneath Jesse's t-shirt, thumb grazing a nipple. Jesse's not proud of the sound he makes at that, but Walt must appreciate it because he's sucking kisses into the line of Jesse's throat like his life depends on leaving physical evidence that he was here. His hands are everywhere at once—Jesse's hips, his ass, his chest—and all Jesse can do is grab on to Walt and pull him in tighter.
Walt's breathing, "Jesse, Jesse, I need..." into the space between them as he pushes at the edge of Jesse's jeans, trying to shove them over his hips.
Jesse feels the heat of Walt's hands sliding under his thighs. "Jesus, that's—oh, fuck—" There's hot palms wrapped around his ass, and Jesse has no idea how to cope with that. He loves that Walt can't help himself, but Walt's stamina leaves a lot to be desired. Jesse gives a short tug on Walt's elbow and guides him up the stairs. "Don't waste it, c'mon."
If Jesse was worried about Walt judging the state of his bedroom, he shouldn't have wasted the energy. The only thing Walt's focused on right now is taking Jesse's clothes off as they get into the bedroom. Jesse falls back onto the sheets, pulling Walt down with him, and his legs immediately hook around Walt's hips. Walt peels Jesse's t-shirt off, then he's got his hands shoved inside Jesse's boxers. As Jesse fumbles with the buttons on Walt's shirt, his hands skim over skin before he's tugging at belt loops to pull Walt closer and unfasten his stupid fucking belt. Walt tugs Jesse's shorts down his legs, and Jesse kicks them off.
He's lying underneath Walt completely naked. His heart slams against his ribcage, because every panic signal in his body tells him to be self-conscious—Walt's eyes are locked on his own like he can see all the atoms and cells that make up Jesse's shaky, stupidly aroused body. But Walt kisses him again, savage and aggressive, like this is something that he wants, like Jesse's earned this through the gravity of his own awesomeness, and the apprehension falls away like it's been cut out of him.
Jesse pushes his hand down the front of Walt's pants and grips his cock. Walt growls a rumble of want into Jesse's open mouth that makes something curl low in Jesse's gut, warm and tight. Jesse shoves Walt's pants down and out of the way, because he's wanted to have sex with Walt for too long, and he's not going to waste this golden opportunity on a handjob.
Now they're both naked, Walt's weight on top of Jesse and his hands wrapped around Jesse's thighs. Jesse thumps his heels at the small of Walt's back. "C'mon, Mr. White," he breathes out, words shaky in his throat. "Fill me up."
Walt just stares right through him in a way that Jesse can feel in his bones. He licks his lips and crushes his mouth over Jesse's, and Jesse is going to have beard burn everywhere, because Walt's kissing his throat, the tattoo on his chest, his stomach, the inside of his thighs. Jesse lifts his hips up, desperate for some sort of friction or contact, or maybe even Walt's mouth opening around his cock, and, no, Jesse cannot think about that anymore or his body's going to give up and go home.
His dick's tight against his belly while Walt's mouth glides over Jesse's inner thigh. The sandpaper scrape of Walt's beard so close to Jesse's dick makes his insides twist into a confused knot of arousal. "C'mon, please," Jesse begs, hands sliding over Walt's head to try to pull him closer; he feels so wide open already it's unreal. "I need it. I need you."
Apparently, those are the magic fucking words, because Walt slides up Jesse's body and snatches a condom off of the night table. "Finally," Jesse grumbles, but there's no heat to it. Walt moves in between Jesse's knees, grabs onto his thighs when his own hands are free. Jesse thinks hooking his legs over Walt's shoulders might make this easier, and it does; when Walt slides inside of him in one smooth stroke, Jesse doesn't even bother stopping the moan that tumbles out of his mouth. There may even be some begging involved. He can tell he's not going to last very long at all, because it doesn't hurt like he thought it would, and his body fucking loves it. His toes curl, and Walt stares down at him, giving him time to adjust.
"Jesse," Walt says, dry and raspy, his hands caught under Jesse's thighs, and Jesse can just feel how badly Walt wants to fuck into him.
Jesse nods, says, "Yeah, c'mon," and reaches up, gets Walt's mouth down over his own. Walt starts shoving into him, heavy and hot, and Jesse moans into his mouth until Walt makes it impossible to talk by way of wet, clumsy kisses. Walt breathes out Jesse's name like he's intoxicated on the way their bodies fit together; Jesse drinks up the praise, fingers curling at the base of Walt's neck while they move together in greedy pushes. Jesse's moaning, "Mr. White," strangled and cracked in his throat, and he feels a clench and twist in his gut each time Walt drives into him.
Everything about this is so good, but Jesse can't help wanting more and more, his mouth saying as much and his nails biting into Walt's skin. Walt gives him what he needs, slams into him hard enough to shove him up the mattress, but Jesse goes with the movement and grinds into it. Walt's breath shudders out, and he grunts, plants a hand on one side of Jesse's head, fingers gripping the pillow tight. Jesse catches Walt's mouth again, tilts his hips into the sharp thrusts, then it's so overwhelming that Jesse just fucking can't anymore and loses it completely. He moans shivery, blissed-out noises around Walt's mouth as it all shakes out of him. His hips roll in jerky, messy waves, because this is a mutual thing, and he can tell how close Walt is by the way he's breathing.
"C'mon, Mr. White," Jesse coaxes, his hands sliding over Walt's back. "That's it..." He lets Walt take what he needs, their rhythm jagged and full of want as Walt grunts out his name. Jesse digs his hands into the small of Walt's back, feeling his spine flex, and Walt hisses, "Jesse," in a cracked little moan before he breaks apart, shuddering and breathing over Jesse's throat through the comedown.
Jesse sighs out a long breath and melts into the sheets as Walt sprawls over him. Every muscle feels impossibly loose, like taffy that's been stretched past its normal size. His hands slide up and down over Walt's skin while Walt kisses his jawline. He reaches for Jesse's arm, presses his mouth to the inside of Jesse's wrist. Jesse goes still under the touch, but Walt's mouth follows the line of the tattoo on Jesse's forearm in a way that's dirty-hot and perfect.
Jesse's hands find Walt's hips, and he digs his fingers in. "I got another tattoo on my back," he says quietly, voice full of promise. "Maybe next time you could kiss that one."
Walt locks eyes with him, and Jesse feels his stomach drop. "Roll over."
Holy shit, yes. Fuck yes. But Walt's definitely not up for a repeat round yet. Jesse lays his hands on Walt's shoulders and sits up, bringing Walt with him. He kisses the confused curve of Walt's mouth, which softens into something more agreeable. "Why don't we get somethin' to eat first?"
By the dawn of the new year, Jesse discovers that the scrape of Walt's beard between his shoulder blades is fucking magical.
