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The beach always had its healing effect on Jesse, although he rarely got the chance to stand at one. Quiet nights, on the other hand, always managed to crush his spirits like a cannonball. Everything was easier for him when his biggest problems were hiding some weed from his parents to smoke with badger and skinny. And everything was so hard for him now that he had no idea what to do with… Well, every part of his life. What to do with having lost the woman you loved more than anything, ever? What to do with being neck-deep into a drug operation he could only get out of dead? What to do with Walter White?
His chemistry teacher was another thing that was easier when Jesse only had to worry about grades.
The man is the center of nearly all of Jesse's problems. That's why he couldn’t understand, for the love of god, why he would kiss the guy. And then get in his car and drive as far as he could. Jesus, he wasn’t even drunk or high… He just did it. Grabbed Mr. White by his face and locked their lips together for whatever reason and didn’t even wait for his reaction before running out of the lab, halfway through a batch that was due in a couple days.
Now, alone at a beach he realized he was better off being yelled at by Walt than in the quietness of his mind. His damned mind. Never worked properly, somehow always letting his heart do the decision making for him. His heart, another thing that was fucked up. Being in love, or whatever, with Walter White? The hell was wrong with him.
What the hell is wrong with me? He already knew the answer.
As he sat under the night light, trying to find a way to calm himself down and find some direction, his phone rang. He didn’t need to look to see who was, so he just let the call die, waiting for Walt to give up. But Walter White had always been one stubborn son of a bitch, kept on calling until Jesse had no other option but to face his humiliation and say “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” Walter repeated, in his condescending tone, over-pronouncing every word. “That's how you decide to greet me after what you did, Pinkman?”
God, how Jesse hated him sometimes. Most of the time. What the hell was wrong with him.
“Jeez, man. the fuck am i supposed to say, then?”
“Well, I don't know. What do you think you’re supposed to say?”
Fucking jerk. Old bastard. Disgusting motherfucker.
“Fuck… man, I’m sorry, okay? I’m fucking sorry for kiss- for what I did. is this what you want?”
And here it is, one of the many reasons why Jesse hates himself for whatever it is he feels about Mr. White. He just makes him feel like he’s stupid every time. And he likes it. Oh, my god, he likes it.
“Now you say you’re sorry…”
“For christ’s sake, dude. Should I say it, what, before I did?”
“You shouldn’t.”
The guy is just insane. sick and twisted. Playing mind games with Jesse like he’s a little puppet. He couldn’t figure out what about it was worse. And he couldn’t really understand what was it about the whole thing, about Walter White, that made him want to stay a little longer to find out what might happen, how far this could go. Maybe he could hang around enough to get a proper kiss, heaven knows that would be enough… Or at least that’s what he tells himself; that he wouldn’t get addicted like he did to all the other stuff in his life, like fucking it up, drugs and jane.
“…”
“Why don’t you come back here, huh, Jesse?”
“For what”
“So we can sort things out. Face to face. Man to man, you know”
Oh, yes, he had to mention that.
“Fuck. No”
“No?”
“I won't go back there so you can make fun of me. Bitch”
“Come back here, jesse”
And, yet again, Jesse was the stupidest fool to ever live. He turns his phone off and runs to where he parked his car, right before the sand. Starts the ignition like he’s being chased by the cops and races back to the lab, defeated by his own self. Maybe he’ll regret not trying it at least once, he thinks as a way to defend his actions to himself. Should probably stop that by now, there’s nothing he’s done that can possibly be excused. And there’s nothing he can find to say to himself after choosing the worst option time and time again.
In a blink, he’s back at the meth lab, opening up the red door and looking down to find Mr. White staring at him like he’s the king of the world. Well, he might as well be. Jesse stays by the door, contemplating his last minutes before screwing it all worse than before, and, maybe, trying to find some dignity buried inside of him to make his legs turn away and leave, this time for good.
And he knows there’s none left.
As he walks down the stairs, Walt's eyes never leave his every move, standing still and waiting for Jesse. Or better, pulling him in like a magnet. Attracting Pinkman like a flower does to a bee. Like a prey does to a predator. Only in this case, the roles were so reversed.
When Jesse reaches him, only a few inches away, Walter does not move a single muscle.
“I’m here, man”
“Yes, Jesse, I see you”
“Then do something”
“Why don’t you do it like you did before?”
“Damn, man… Why do you have to make everything so hard”
“Do I?”
Oh, for the love of the lord.
The man pisses Jesse off so bad, it’s like he can’t think straight. His brain just shuts down. and his body moves for him, without a warning. And like that he’s face to face with Walt, his hands running to hold his shirt in a tight grip, hitting his lips onto Mr. White’s, this time harder and angrier than the first, also more urgent and, above all that, needy. The same fear from before starts to creep in like a ghost in Jesse's mind, but it ends while his expression softens as Walt holds his face and pulls him closer, matching Jesse's thirst in an almost obscene way. The boy moves his body closer and closer as he humanly can, not one thought in his head besides a buzzing noise like static, letting his mouth open for Walt to conquer, as if that was the last part of an old plan, a king and his army ready to take down the enemy.
Only the enemy in this scenario was an addict with a passion for letting people and things take over him. Walt didn’t even have to try. All he had to do was hold his short hair with some firmness and breath into his mouth before deepening the kiss and Jesse Pinkman was long, long gone. And, oh, he knew he would never find his way back, find his senses. It wasn't just the kiss, it was the man in front of him, or better saying, almost collapsing onto him, that managed to take the wheel to Jesse's mind and body, turn it to any side he wanted without having to ask for permission first. “I was thinking, maybe you and I could partner up” and he knew Jesse would end up saying yes. And he always would. Moving to hold Walt's waist, gripping so tight he could not, would not, let go, Jesse thought he was a bit stupid for thinking things wouldn’t reach this point. like he could possibly be around Mr. White for endless hours and his hands wouldn’t end up taking off his belt and unbuttoning his pants.
A part of him thought that was a bit too risky, that he was asking for too much, but that little voice was rapidly silenced by the groan Walt let out when Jesse's hand reached him. Fuck, he wanted to hear that more. And that’s why he kept on going the direction he wanted to go, moving his hand deeper and faster. They never stopped kissing, only it got more desperate, wetter and, specially, louder. As Jesse moved his hand inside of Mr. White’s pants while moving his own waist into his, Walt had a hand gripping his hair tight, leaving a burning sensation into the boy’s scalp, And the other still on his cheek, in an almost gentle way. Jesse liked that way more than he should have.
Things got messy and noisy so fast, Jesse started to wonder if the time he lived between running away and coming back even existed. It’s like he had been kissing him, moving his body with Walt’s, for hours, endlessly. The man stopped it, only to say something that wrecked any self respect Jesse had within him up until now. Made him stop questioning the “if”’s and start wondering about the “when”’s.
“On the floor”
He demanded rather than asked, knowing what the response would be. Jesse did as told, almost falling on the cold ground while still holding Mr. White. And then it began, with Walt lowering his pants some more so that Jesse could have full access to him, laying his head on the crook of the boy’s neck, breathing heavy and slow. Pinkman could finish it all then and there. He thought they were beyond lucky that nobody would show up that late at night to check on them, or that there weren’t any cameras around. He kinda wanted there to be, though, so that he knew that these moments wouldn’t get lost in his memory, that the way Walt was moaning in his ear and making him feel insane would be forever recorded somewhere. And that someone might see them, ignoring the actual work they should be doing to make out on the floor like two idiotic teenagers.
He didn’t care about how stupid that made him look, his entire body felt everything was so right. Mr. White on top of him, their mouths meeting once again while his hand worked non-stop, and he knew the man was close. And, holy shit, he was too. Didn’t take too long, Walt ended the kiss to let out a deep whine, pronouncing cuss words into Jesse's neck like he was embarrassed to say it out loud. Needless to say, embarrassed was the actual feeling Jesse Pinkman had as he came by himself shortly after that, his hand still inside Mr. White’s pants, his body under Walt’s and his heart jumping on his chest desperately as if wanting to escape its terrible destiny.
“You’re good, jesse”
Mr. white said, still laying on top of him and most likely well aware of the effect those words had on his partner.
“Yeah, yeah… Fuck, man, you got jizz all over me”
“Get up, we still got work left to do”
And that was exactly when Jesse knew, whatever he felt for that man was going to haunt him for a long time. And seemingly, he would follow him to the depths of hell ‘cause he said so.