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Love is a Strange Drug

Chapter Text

Walt glances back down at his plate, the numbers 53, written out in bacon, stare back up at him, mocking him. Marie finally succeeded in having Skyler divorce him, or so he tells himself, not wanting to consider that Skyler had made the choice herself. The papers sat on the table the day he had come home from New Hampshire. She had taken half of the money they could possibly claim they had, but further than that she took the kids under full custody. Walt didn't fight for custody; he had known that there wasn't any point, since his son hated him and Holly would be better off living without him. He wasn't even supposed to live to see his fifty-third birthday, but his cancer had gone back into remission, and here he is.

After picking somewhat reluctantly at his breakfast, Walt dumps the rest into the garbage and sits down on his living room couch. He looks around the room forlornly. Skyler had kept the kids, but he kept the house. That, he decides, was probably one of the worst decisions he had made. Being there, alone in this house, makes him feel overwhelmingly lonely.

While Walt is lost in the world of thought, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He slowly removes the old, outdated, flip phone from his pocket and flips it open. The message, "Low battery." is displayed on the screen, which was all the screen ever said when he checked it since the divorce. Why did he even need the damned thing anymore? There was no one left in the world who would want to talk to him: not Skyler, not his son…

not Jesse.

The words hit him like a ton of bricks; they always did. He hadn't seen Jesse in exactly a year, since his fifty-second birthday. A whole year had passed since his lab partner, his partner in crime, his friend and he had spoken to each other. Not that he blamed Jesse. They hadn't exactly left on the best of terms, nor had they been on good terms for quite a while before their parting either. Jesse knows that it was Walt who had poisoned Brock, knows that Walt had watched Jane die when he could have saved her, knows that Walt put a hit out for him, though Jesse had been held in captivity instead of being killed.

The breath hitches in Walt's throat as he hold back tears, though he wasn't exactly sure why he needed to, since no one was there to see him. Pride maybe? Definitely. Walt had accepted now that this whole ordeal was his fault, because he was just too damn proud, too proud to take Elliot and Gretchen's money to pay for his cancer treatment, too proud to stop when he had enough, no, more than enough, much more than enough money to last him and his family for a lifetime, or multiple lifetimes.

Though he tried to stop them the tears flowed just as easily as if he wasn't; landing on his open palms that now supported his head. He finally gives in and lets the sobs rack through his body, lets the tears flow, lets the emptiness encompass him completely.

Walt's eyes open slowly, not that opening them did him much good. The darkness that had closed around him earlier that day still seemed to be pulled up over his eyes, though he knows that all he needs to do to correct that problem is turn on a light, which he did, and then promptly turned back off again. He just now realizes how much his head, his eyes, his entire body, hurt.

Using the walls to guide him, Walt stumbles his way into the bathroom and opens up the medicine cabinet. He has to, unfortunately, turn on a light in order to read the words on the bottle so that he won't take the wrong pills. He shakes two Tylenol pills out onto his hand and pops them into his mouth, taking a sip of water from the tap in order to help them down.

Walt nearly forgets to turn the bathroom light off as he shuffles out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. He practically falls into his bed; too exhausted to do anything else, even after sleeping for…

He glances at the clock on his nightstand: fifteen hours.

"Serves me right," Walt mumbles to himself absently.

As exhausted as he is, Walt doesn't sleep; he can't. Thoughts of Jesse roar like rapids through his mind. First simple little memories: seeing Jesse sneaking out of the house Hank and the rest of the DEA had just entered on a bust, cooking with him in the RV, briefly in Jesse's basement, the RV again, then the lab, and finally in tented up houses. Next, the memories he likes, the ones that make him want to both smile and cry: all of the times he picked Jesse back up, offered him support, a shoulder to cry on, all of the times he was generally good to Jesse. Finally the memories he hates: all of the times he had hurt Jesse… so many times… too many times…

Walt feels the tears pooling in his eyes again. He shakes his head, not wanting to succumb to them again. Once the tears stop threatening pour Walt takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh. He briefly is thankful that the cancer is back in remission; it's nice to actually be able to breathe. He sighs again as his thoughts flicker back to Jesse. Would Jesse be happy that the cancer was back in remission? No, Walt knows that the thought is, frankly, ridiculous. Jesse would probably be happy to see Walt dead from the cancer, or at very least never have to see him again.

A thought crosses Walt's mind, one so idiotic that he actually chuckles at it. Maybe I should go see him. Where would he be able to find Jesse? How would he be able to find Jesse? Why should he go see Jesse? What would he say? What could he say?

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The morning creeps up much too quickly on Walt, even though he hasn't slept at all. He rolls out of bed at 9:00, gets dressed, pours himself a bowl of Raisin Bran Crunch, eats it as slowly as he can considering that he hasn't eaten since breakfast the morning before, climbs into the car and starts driving.

Though Walt knows it's an idiotic idea, it is an idea still, and one that he had tossed around in his head all night. Still, nine hours after the idea had originally occurred to him, he was undecided on what exactly to do. It was a completely spur of the moment decision to get in the car that morning. He just got up and went; no thinking, no time to turn back; just went.

Of course, Walt has no idea where to even find Jesse. For all he knows, Jesse could have moved out of town, out of the state, out of the country, even out of the continent by now. Though Jesse may not have been able to take advantage of Saul's offer for a new identity, partially because Jesse had already tried that once and hadn't gone, and partially because Saul had taken up his own offer, he could still have left. He may have even found someone who could create him a new identity. And though Walt knows that this search could turn into an enormous wild goose chase, he has to try.

The first place that Walt thinks to check is Jesse's house. He doesn't know whether to expect to see Jesse there or not, but he has to start somewhere. Why shouldn't that somewhere be the one place he could have found Jesse before?

Now, he was in the car, driving, running over the words he had thought up last night, or rather, early this morning, that he would say to Jesse. It was like he was a young teacher again driving to school to present a new lesson, running over what he was going to say over, and over, and over again until the words were seared onto his brain. Over and over, again and again, never stopping, never changing, just repeating, "Hello Jesse, I know you're angry, I know you probably don't want to see me, but I wanted to know that you're still okay..."

The farther Walt drives from his home, and the closer he drives to Jesse's the more he wants to turn back, forget that he had ever thought to visit Jesse. The world, on the other hand, seemed to want him to continue. Every stop light he passes is green, letting him fly through town, bringing him to Jesse's that much more quickly.

Walt pulls his car up to the curb outside Jesse's house, still reciting what he plans to stay, his mouth on auto-pilot now. Jesse's car is in the driveway, which means that he, likely, is actually there. Walt can hardly believe his luck, or misfortune - he isn't exactly sure which - that Jesse is still in Albuquerque, still in the same house.

As he walks up to the front of the house, Walt braces himself. For what exactly? Anything, everything, he decides. Jesse could be perfectly fine and healthy, maybe even living with a family of some sort. On the other hand, he could be using again and half dead. Now at the front door, Walt lifts his hand, which had never been such a difficult task, and, before he could second guess himself, knocks on Jesse's door.

Walt waits for what feels like an eternity, though was likely only the span of a few seconds, before the door swing open in front of him. In the doorway stands Jesse, not completely unlike how Walt remembers him. His facial hair is no longer unkempt, he's no longer shaving his head, but his hair isn't overly long either. He's wearing simple, casual clothing: a shirt with some sort of design that Walt doesn't really know much about, jeans, and a hoodie, nicely fitted - not two sizes too large. He looks... good.

"Mr. White?" Jesse says after a few uncomfortable moments of silence.

The words that Walt had been repeating to himself while he was driving were completely gone from his mind. He wants to speak, to say something, anything to Jesse, but he feels like he physically can't. No words will form, no matter how hard he tries.

Jesse motions for Walt to enter the house, which he does. Finally managing to form a coherent sentence in his mind, he turns back to face Jesse. Before he can register that anything has happened he finds himself on the floor. Then the pain starts, just under his left eye, where the fist had connected with his face.

"Why are you here?" Jesse is yelling now, "You piece of shit, why are you here? You fucking poison Brock, you tell me you let Jane die, right in front of your fucking eyes! Why the fuck are you here?" Jesse's voice cracks as he holds back a sob, "Why the fuck aren't you dead?"

Walt stands back up, rubbing his face, "I deserved that... Jesse..." he hesitates, not knowing exactly what to say. He could parrot the message he had been repeating earlier, but he doesn't think that would do any good, "...I- I'm sorry..."

The sobs overtake Jesse now. Walt walks over to him and wraps his arms around the younger man. At first Jesse tries to push Walt away, but he eventually stops and rests his head on Walt's shoulder, unable to stop the tears from pouring down his face.

"Jesse," Walt says gently as he moves Jesse's face back to look at him and brushes away one of the droplets rolling down his face, "I truly am very, very sorry."

Before he can register that anything has happened his and Jesse's lips are pressed together. He had just kissed, was kissing, Jesse. Walt notices that Jesse isn't kissing back, but he isn't resisting either. It seems more like he physically can't refuse the kiss or kiss back; too shocked to move.

As soon as Walt has the chance to process all of this information he breaks off the kiss. Jesse is still crying, but he isn't trying to get away from Walt. What that means exactly, Walt doesn't know.

Walt now leads Jesse over to a couch and they both sit down. Walt holds Jesse in his arms, feeling his body shake with each sob, until Jesse falls asleep out of pure exhaustion.

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Walt is starting to feel uncomfortable now. The past hour has consisted of sitting on Jesse's couch, a passed out Jesse in his arms, thinking. He had just kissed Jesse Pinkman. The more and more he thinks about it the more and more it feels like some sort of strange, twisted dream. It couldn't have happened... But it had, which he continually points out to himself as he runs the moment through his mind over and over again.

Then, there is the physical discomfort. He has been sitting as still as he can for an hour now, which wasn't the most comfortable thing to do. The thought to move, lay Jesse down on the couch and wait for him to wake up from somewhere else, like the chair across the room, has crossed his mind several times now. However, Walt can't bring himself to do it. He wants to sit here with Jesse, wants to be there, right there, to comfort Jesse when he wakes up.

Walt just now notices that Jesse's house has been redecorated. He uses this brief, superficial thought to distract himself for at least a few moments; anything to avoid thinking more about the situation at hand. The front room is now more like a proper living room, and not as much like a "party pad". There is still a large television and sound system, but the room is much more tastefully organized. The couch that he and Jesse were sitting on is pushed up against the front wall, a smaller couch faces the television, and an armchair sits against the wall opposite from the couch. All of these pieces of furniture surround a coffee table; the only piece of old, actual furniture that had survived Jesse's redecorating. It looks much more grown up, almost sophisticated...

But not quite, Walt decides.

Finally Jesse stirs in Walt's arms. Walt doesn't move. He half hopes that Jesse will continue sleeping so that they won't have to address what had happened. But then, that would only be delaying the inevitable. Briefly, Walt again considers just laying Jesse down on the couch, but completely leaving and avoiding whatever came next entirely. Of course, he knows that he can't.

Jesse's eyes open. He looks around the room for a moment, and then looks up at Walt, "Yo."

Walt chuckles, he actually manages to laugh despite everything, "Yo yourself."

Jesse removes Walt's arms from around him and turns to face the older man, "About what happened..." He trailed off, leaving an awkward, empty silence.

Walt now considers playing dumb, What do you mean? Nothing happened. Instead he nods, not wanting to actually say anything, but figuring that playing dumb couldn't possibly help the situation.

"Uh, what actually happened exactly?" Jesse asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"You mean, you don't remember?" Walt is hopeful that the answer is yes.

"No... I remember... But what exactly was it? I mean, I know it was a kiss; I'm not that stupid, but I mean..."

Walt looks down at the floor and smiles, feeling just as confused and flustered as Jesse was, "I'm honestly not sure either."

"Was it because... you... uh..." Jesse pauses, "you have a thing for me?"

Walt ponders what Jesse said. Does he have a thing for Jesse? Was it even possible for him to have a thing for Jesse? He had been married to Skyer, a woman, for nearly seventeen years, and had never felt anything toward another man in his fifty-three years. Is it possible to find out that you are attracted to men at fifty-three? Walt backs his thoughts up. How could he possibly be considering that he has a "thing" for, is attracted to Jesse?

A silence has drawn out between the two men as Walt thinks, but Walt can't manage to draw any conclusions. There is the fact, the only, single fact that he had kissed Jesse. One fact isn't enough to prove anything, is it? There are so many other things that could have contributed to the situation: having been alone for a year, missing the loving contact between himself and another person, being sleep deprived, but nothing that he could draw concrete evidence from.

"Mr. White," Jesse says impatiently, breaking the tense silence, "Do you have a thing for me?"

"I- I'm not sure Jesse," Walt says, "I-" he stumbles over the thought and rests his head in the palms of his hands, "I think so."

"You think so?" Jesse asks, growing more impatient, "What exactly do you mean by you think so?"

"How do I draw any conclusions just from what happened Jesse?" Walt looks at Jesse, his eyes hard and emotionless, "I mean there isn't any evidence. It could have been situational, it could have been some sort of fluke, or it could maybe, just maybe mean that yes, I do have a thing for you. But how -"

"Are you kidding me Mr. White?" Jesse fumes, "Are you actually trying to think this through like some sort of scientific theory or something? That's not how this works. Just answer the question."

Walt's head falls back onto his palms as realizes the truth in Jesse's statement. Love, while it has been mapped out in the brain, is still, for the most part, a mystery to the scientific community. What exactly causes it and how it works is still constantly debated. How did Walt possibly think that looking at the facts and sifting through the circumstantial evidence could possibly have helped him?

Walt, again, lifts his head to look at Jesse, this time his eyes softer, gentler. He takes a deep breath and braces himself, "Yes."

Chapter Text

The next moment Walt found his lips pressed against Jesse's again. He hadn't moved; this time it was Jesse who had kissed him. While this wasn't what Walt was bracing himself for he's happy he had braced himself so that the surprise didn't completely overwhelm him. He leans into the kiss, deepening it, relishing the feel of Jesse's lips against his, moving with his.

Jesse parts his lips, letting in Walt's tongue. Their tongues dance as they explore each other's mouths. Walt moves a hand to grasp the back of Jesse's head, further melding the two of them together in their passion.

The two men part for air; both panting heavily, trying to catch their breaths. Walt's eyes meet Jesse's, which are hazed over in lust. Without warning, Jesse stands and grabs Walt's hand, tugging gently, indicating that he should follow. Walt stands and is then led upstairs. As the two of them are climbing the stairs a pressing thought enters Walt's mind.

Once the two of them enter Jesse's room Walt voices the thought, "How exactly is this going to work?"

Jesse sits down on the bed - a motion which Walt follows - and turns to face Walt, the haze fading from his eyes, "I guess I hadn't quite thought that far ahead..."

"In a situation such as this, one generally needs to..." Walt trails off, not finding any good way to finish the sentence.

"Catch," Jesse finishes for him.

"Yes," Walt sighs, "How do we figure out who's... catching?"

"There's no way I am," Jesse declares.

"Oh really?" Walt smirks, an idea coming to him.

He grabs Jesse's shoulders and roughly pins him to the bed, kissing him again, much more fiercely than before. Then, one of his hands lifts off of Jesse's shoulder and moves to his crotch, squeezing Jesse's rapidly hardening cock through the fabric of his jeans. In response Jesse's hips buck and he moans into the kiss.

Walt breaks off the kiss, "I think I can convince you otherwise."

"That isn't fai- " Walt squeezes Jesse's crotch again, breaking Jesse off in mid sentence, eliciting another moan, "Fuuuuck, Mr. White!"

"Convinced yet?" Walt asks as he tugs at Jesse's shirt, indicating that he wanted it off.

Jesse obliges him; taking his hoodie and shirt off and throwing them to the side. He then begins to strip Walt down to his bare chest as Walt runs his hands along Jesse's. The pair lock lips again as they unbutton each other's pants and quickly discard them, and their underwear, to the bedroom floor.

Walt sits up and slides himself back a bit off of Jesse's body and onto his legs in order to more fully see the now naked Jesse, who is still lying on the bed. Jesse's chest is pale and smooth, marked only by a black dragon tattoo. Walt again reaches his hands out to run them along Jesse's chest, this time passing them over Jesse's nipples, causing a sigh from Jesse.

Walt smiles as his eyes move from Jesse's chest to his face. He and Jesse make eye contact and Walt finds himself becoming lost in the depths of Jesse's bright and lust filled eyes. Walt pulls himself away from Jesse's eyes to lean in and brush their lips together once more, though only briefly before his attention shifts to Jesse's member, now standing fully erect.

Tentatively, Walt wraps his hand around the base of Jesse's cock and slowly strokes it, running his thumb along the head as his hand reaches the top. Jesse, who had been watching, groans as his head falls back against the bed. Walt takes this as a sign to continue, which he does, keeping up with the slow pace. He considers that this speed must be almost painful for Jesse, who already seemed to be extremely aroused. His thoughts are confirmed only seconds later.

"Shit! You're such a tease," Jesse manages to speak through a groan.

"Is that a yes?" Walt asks.

"If that's what it'll take, then yes. Just stop with the torture!"

Walt laughs, "It worked, didn't it? Now, do you have any...?"

Jesse nods and points to the night stand to the left of the bed. Walt leans over to open the drawer and roots around until he has the tube he's looking for in his hand. He pops the cap off and slicks up the index and pointer finger of his right hand and sets the tube on the stand.

"Are you sure about this?" Walt feels obligated to ask, considering what he was about to do.

"Just do it before I change my mind."

Walt nods and positions a finger at Jesse's hole. Gently, he inserts the digit. He glances up at Jesse to see his eyes clenched shut.

"You still okay?" Walt asks, concerned.

"Yeah," Jesse pants, "It's just strange is all."

Walt reaches his other hand up to caress Jesse's face, "Relax."

It only took another few seconds for Jesse to relax, loosening his muscles, allowing Walt to push his finger in further. He next adds the second finger, again needing to wait a moment before sliding it all the way in, then twisting the fingers slightly.

"Oh my god," Jesse pants, "Ah! Fuck! Ow-" He is cut off by a loud yelp.

"Jesse?" Walt asks.

"Do that again!"

Walt does, causing a similar yelp. He figures he must have found Jesse's prostate. Taking advantage of the situation, Walt curls his fingers toward himself, he hopes brushing over the sensitive area again. In response, Jesse's hips buck wildly.

"God, just fuck me already Mr. White!" Jesse nearly yells as Walt curls his fingers again.

Not needing any more invitation, Walt reaches back over to the night stand and uncaps the tube again, this time spreading the substance over his own, painfully hard cock. He then positions himself at Jesse's hole and eases his way in. Jesse lets out a long, loud moan, which nearly sends Walt wild. He concentrates, restraining himself for Jesse's sake, letting Jesse adjust slowly to the much larger object now penetrating him.

Walt pauses, now completely hilted. He waits for a moment before Jesse nods, giving the signal to go. He starts slowly, his thrusts light and gentle. The tightness and warmth of Jesse is driving him mad, ebbing away at his self control...

Jesse yelps again, "Yes! Right there! Harder!"

This is all the permission Walt needs, finally letting go. He plants one hand beside Jesse's head, the other wraps around Jesse's cock and pumps in rhythm with his thrusts. Walt speeds up, trying to hit that same spot in Jesse. He obviously does, based on the response he was getting from Jesse, who had been reduced to moans and yelps.

"I'm close," Walt grunts, feeling his orgasm approaching rapidly.

"Me t- ," Jesse cuts himself off with a yell as his orgasm hits, shooting his cum onto his chest. As Jesse orgasms the muscles surrounding Walt's cock clench. The added tightness proves to be too much for Walt, as one more thrust brings on his own orgasm. He groans as his seed spills into Jesse.

Walt pulls out once his orgasm finished and falls down next to Jesse on the bed. He is breathing hard; the heated session leaving him breathless in more than one sense. Sure, he is literally out of breath, but seeing Jesse like he had by his own hands left him in awe.

"Wow," Jesse breathes.

"Wow," Walt agrees as his eyes close.


Chapter Text

Walt awakens to the sound of a shower being started. He turns his head to look at the nightstand, glancing past the tube of lubricant to the clock. It's noon. Walt isn't exactly sure how long everything had taken, but he figures he can't have been asleep for much more than an hour.

Stretching, Walt looks around the room. Of course, he can't help but notice the clothes strewn around the room, all discarded earlier that morning. Images come back to the forefront of his mind: Jesse stripping off his shirt, Jesse's head falling back against the bed, Jesse's face contorting from the mix of pain and pleasure...

That had all happened, but Walt can't help but wonder why as he reaches up to rub the left side of his face. He hadn't really felt the pain earlier, which made sense considering how overwhelmed he had been. Jesse had punched him, and now here he is, lying naked on Jesse's bed. He can't quite make sense of it all.

In his year alone Walt had time to think over what exactly went wrong. One of the conclusions he drew was that needing to be in control was one of his biggest issues. Walt wonders if this situation was a similar case. Jesse punched him; he kissed Jesse, effectively winning back control. Jesse made the advance; Walt fucked Jesse, again taking the situation back into his own hands.

Of course he can't account for the younger man's behaviour; that was a mystery to him. Why, after punching him, after cussing him out, did Jesse make that advance on him?

Not that he minded...

That thought scares Walt slightly. It true that he had admitted he "had a thing" for Jesse, to both Jesse and himself, but thinking about enjoying sex with another man is something different entirely. Is he gay? No, he decides. He was married to a woman for seventeen years; he can't be gay. Bi?

Walt shakes his head, not wanting to think about it anymore. Instead his thoughts turn back to Jesse. Jesse had been extremely upset, not just in general, but at him before everything had happened. Walt wonders if, somehow, what they did could have, in some small way, made up for everything. He knows that it isn't likely, but he can't help but hope. He'd need to talk to him.

Just as the thought crosses Walt's mind the shower turns off. It's as good a time as any, Walt decides, getting out of bed. He walks to the en-suite bathroom door, swinging it open just as the shower curtain pulls back.

"Holy shit!" Jesse exclaims. He grabs a towel and covers himself, "Uh, hey Mr. White... What are you- "

"We need to talk," Walt cuts him off.

"Well I'm kinda..." Jesse gestures to himself with the hand not holding the towel.

"We just have sex and you're worried about me seeing you naked?" Walt asks condescendingly, and then gestures to himself, still naked.

Jesse blushes, grabs another towel, and throws it at Walt. Walt rolls his eyes, but obliges, wrapping the towel around his waist. He then exits the bathroom, motioning for Jesse to follow, which he does. They both sit back down on the bed.

"Is everything between us okay?" Walt starts, stating the point directly, not wanting to dance around it.

Jesse doesn't answer immediately and turns away from Walt, presumably to think. Finally, he turns back around, blushing again, "Not completely, but you certainly made up for some of it earlier."

Walt sighs, slightly relieved, but also intrigued. Had Jesse just insinuated that he wanted it to happen again? Walt quickly moves on, not wanting to get hung up on that thought just yet, "What exactly possessed you to bring me up here anyway?" he asks, "Especially after you just punched me, I find it odd that you would want to have sex with me."

"You think too much," Jesse teases.

"Maybe it's you who thinks too little," Walt replies lightheartedly.

"I'm not the one with the failed marriage," Jesse smiles cheekily.

"Can't say you're doing any better," Walt rebuttals, "I haven't seen Andrea around."

Walt notices Jesse's eyes harden as his head turns to look away, "Andrea's dead. Todd... I tried to escape, and as punishment Todd fucking shot her in the back of the head."

"Shit," guilt washes over Walt, "Sorry; Jesse, I'm so sorry."

Walt's arms instinctively reach out to embrace Jesse, but he hesitates slightly. Jesse scoots closer to him, which Walt interprets as a welcome for the contact. He closes the gap between them as his arms encircle the younger man.

Jesse rests his head on Walt's shoulder and lets out a shaky sigh, "No, it's okay. You didn't know. You couldn't have known."

While that was true, Walt can't help but feel responsible. Jesse had been imprisoned by Jack and the gang of neo-Nazis because he had put the hit out on him. At the time it had seemed to be the right thing to do, seemed sensible. Of course, the decisions that he had made near the end were irrational, brought on by fear, Walt knows that now.

As he holds Jesse he considers the alternative to what had happened. If Jesse hadn't been imprisoned, forced to cook meth for them, he would be dead; Walt wouldn't be holding Jesse right now. The thought sickens him: that he could have even considered that having Jesse dead would be for the best. He never could have imagined himself in this position then, but now that he was here with Jesse he knew that his former decision was moronic. But he feels that right now, exactly how things are right now, is where he belongs.

Walt now begins to second guess himself. He's put Jesse through pain, too much pain. Was any of this: Walt being there, them having sex, them sitting together now, fair to Jesse? No, of course not; Jesse would have been much better off if not for him. But yet, it feels so right.

Jesse must have felt Walt becoming tense, as he shifts a little in the embrace, "Are you okay?"

Walt sighs and lets himself relax. He gently kisses Jesse's temple before replying, "Perfect."

Chapter Text

Walt steps out of the shower and grabs the towel that he was wearing earlier, now using it to dry himself off. He and Jesse had sat together for a short while before Walt mentioned that he should probably shower. Their talk earlier hadn't exactly gone the way he had planned. The idea was to figure their relationship out; think things through, make decisions now that they both had rid themselves of whatever it was in their systems.

That talk still needs to happen, Walt decides, throwing the towel aside. Luckily, he had thought enough to collect his clothing from Jesse's bedroom floor and bring it into the bathroom. As quickly as he can, Walt throws his clothes on.

Walt exits the bathroom to find a, now clothed Jesse, still sitting on the edge of the bed looking at his feet. He takes his seat beside the younger man and looks at him, "About that talk."

"Yeah," Jesse responds.

"Why exactly-"

"I don't know, okay," Jesse cuts him off, "Maybe because I'm lonely, maybe because I was overwhelmed, or maybe..." he trails off.

Walt waits for a moment before prompting, "Maybe?"

"Maybe it's because it's what I've always wanted," Jesse finishes, "Not that, you know, I've always wanted to be fucked by you or anything, but..." he shakes his head, "Maybe I've felt like nothing I've done was enough for you: cooking sub-par meth, doing drugs, being a terrible distributor, ruining our cooking situation with Gus... So when you kissed me I tried to do something that would be enough for you."

Walt frowns. He isn't happy with that answer, at all, "That isn't what I want this to be," he admits, "Just a way for you to live up to whatever expectations you think I have of you."

Jesse nods, still looking at the floor.

"And I want to make myself perfectly clear," Walt continues, "You don't need to do something like that, or anything, for that matter, just to feel like you're good enough. Jesse, why do you think I came here today? I wanted to see you, make sure that you were okay. I care about you Jesse; you don't need to do anything but be you to be enough for me."

Jesse turns to face him now, and Walt can see the corners of his mouth pulling upward into a weak smile. Walt responds by smiling back.

Jesse's smile widens, "I don't know if I've ever actually seen you smile before," he comments, "Now enough about me. When did all of this 'caring about me' stuff come back? And on top of that, where did earlier today come from? Last time I saw you, you tackled me and tried to convince me to kill you. The time before that you sic Jack and his Nazis on me, and the time before that you try to lure me into talking with you so that you can have me killed."

"Tackling you was to save you," Walt responds, "I figured that was obvious. Originally, when I found out that the blue meth was still being produced, my plan was to kill Jack, his gang, and you. I thought that you were working with them willingly; selling my formula without me. Of course the only way I could conceive that my plan would work was to sacrifice myself in the process, which seemed perfect, poetic. But then Jack brought you out; a prisoner, a slave. I tackled you so that you wouldn't be shot. I then gave you the option to kill me. I had planned to die anyway, so if that was what you needed to do, then so be it."

"I never thought of it that way," Jesse sighs, "It does make sense though."

Walt nods, "Putting that hit out on you; that was inexcusable. Of course it was a decision born out of fear and desperation, but inexcusable no less. I thought that I could somehow put my family back together if I got rid of the one thing that I saw as a threat: you. Of course, the idea was ridiculous, looking back on it now. However, I don't recall trying to lure you into any kind of trap."

"You called me and told me to meet you," Jesse explains, "As I was walking over I saw a hit man watching the bench."

"Hit man?" Walt shakes his head, "I was completely alone. There wasn't any plan to kill you at that point. I just wanted to talk."

"Don't lie, I saw him. He was watching the bench."

"Jesse, what point would there be in lying anymore?" Walt could feel frustration building, "I've owned up to putting out a hit on you, which, I admit, I did after you refused to meet with me. Lying about having a hit out on you only a short while earlier than that would accomplish nothing."

Jesse's gaze shifts back to his feet, "Then what did I see?"

Walt breathes deeply, calming himself, "I don't know; someone from the drug trade who recognized me, someone looking at something behind me. All I know, Jesse, is that the man you saw wasn't a hit man."

Jesse nods, "I'm not sure why I even bothered to argue the point. I guess I just don't know when you're actually telling the truth."

"I understand. I'm not the easiest man to trust anymore. Even my family doesn't trust me anymore. Skyler couldn't trust me from the beginning, before she even knew that I was cooking meth. I'm sure you saw that the one time you actually met her, based on your 'failed marriage' comment earlier. You were more correct than you knew; we're divorced now."

"I thought that something like that must have happened," Jesse admits, "Since you weren't frantic about having cheated on your wife."

"You have a point," Walt says somberly.

"We didn't even get to the main point of my question. What made you want to fuck someone slightly more than half your age?" Jesse asks, punching Walt lightly in the shoulder, now obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Walt chuckles, following suit, "Why wouldn't I. I mean, look at you."


"Excuse me? You were the one begging for it."

"I wasn't begging."

"God, just fuck me already Mr. White!" Walt mocks, "That sounds like begging to me."

The blush returns to Jesse's face.

"But in all seriousness," Walt backtracks, "I have no idea why I even kissed you. I never had thought of you that way before. I actually considered you more like a son."

"No, don't even do that," Jesse groans.

"Do what?"

"We just fucked; I don't need things to be any more awkward. Either we fuck or we're like father and son, not both. And since we've already done that-"

"Deal." Walt cuts Jesse off before connecting their lips in another kiss.

Chapter Text

How long has it been now? Walt checks the clock again; twenty hours now. He had left Jesse's house twenty hours ago. Though twenty hours had passed he hadn't accomplished much; he'd eaten a few times, he'd done the dishes, he'd slept. Most of those twenty hours had consisted of looking at the clock, thinking.

Walt imagines that this must be how teenaged school girls feel after a first encounter with a crush: looking at the clock, waiting for her crush to call her, wondering when they would meet again; although, he hopes most teenaged school girls' first encounters didn't involve anal sex.

Of course, why Walt is the metaphorical teenaged school girl waiting for the boy to call her back, Walt doesn't know. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to be the one to call, to re-engage. If Jesse never calls then maybe it had just been some figment of his imagination, and he wouldn't have to deal with this new development in their relationship. But there is a part of Walt that craves to re-engage, wants desperately to pick up the phone and at very least talk to Jesse. Calling a woman had never been this difficult, but then again, never before had the woman been half his age, nor had the woman been a man. Not to mention he hadn't ever had sex on a first date, or in this case, before a first date.

Just then Walt's cell phone rings and Walt's heart stops. Twenty hours later and he still isn't ready.

The cell manages three rings before Walt flips it open and speaks, "Hello."

"Hello Walt."

"Skyler?" a sinking feeling starts in Walt's stomach. Why would Skyler be calling him now? She hadn't spoken to him since the divorce finalized nearly a year ago. Why of all times did it have to be now?

"Flynn wanted to call you two days ago," Skyler stated, "He wants to see you again. I figured I'd at least let you know."

The surprise winds Walt, almost as if he was just punched in the stomach. The last time he had heard from his son, Flynn had expressed that he never wanted to see him again. Walt isn't sure what had changed Flynn's mind, but the tone in Skyler's voice told him that the same thing hadn't changed hers, "Will you let me see him?"

"No," Skyler responds flatly, "Not that my word will stop him. He must have snuck out last night; he wasn't in his room this morning. There's a chance that he may show up on your doorstep. If that happens, you call me immediately and I will pick him up. You do not talk to him, other than to tell him to wait outside for me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Jesus Skyler, he's eighteen! He's an adult, he has the same rights as you or I do, and he certainly has the right to see his father if that's what he wants."
"I don't care," Skyler's voice lowers, "You shouldn't have the right to see him."

"But I do now, don't I," Walt can hear the malice starting to leak into his words, "Your custody is meaningless. You may still have Holly, but you can't keep my son from me any longer."

"You had better do as I say. I can still turn you into the police-"

Walt laughs, "Which would do you just fine, I'm sure, considering that you created cover stories and laundered my money. No, you can't turn me into the police. You have nothing Skyler, nothing."

Walt flips his phone closed and immediately flips it open again, entering in a speed dial command. He waits impatiently as it rings once, twice, three times, four-

"Hey... Mr. White..."

"Jesse, get over here. Now."

It had felt like hours now that Walt had been pacing back and forth across his living room, waiting for Jesse to arrive. When Walt finally hears the knock at his door that he had been anticipating he nearly jumps. Quickly he darts to the door and wrenches it open.

"Hey," Jesse addresses Walt, his worry apparent, "is something-"

Jesse is cut off as Walt yanks him inside and pins him to the wall, connecting their lips in a rough, passionate kiss. Walt can feel Jesse gasp before he can register what exactly had happened. It only takes a second before he is returning the kiss with the same fervor. Wasting no time, Walt starts yanking at Jesse's sweater, attempting to take it off.

Jesse breaks off the kiss, "Woah, woah, woah! Shouldn't we at least close the door first?"

With some reluctance at the loss of momentum, Walt closes the door and drags Jesse to his bedroom. As quickly as he can, Walt removes his clothes. Jesse obviously takes this as a cue and does the same. Confident that all distractions had now been taken care of, Walt grabs Jesse and pushes him down onto the bed, pinning the younger man by his shoulders. He reconnects their mouths, his tongue darting into Jesse's mouth.

As the kiss continues one of Walt's hands slides its way down Jesse's torso, down to his rapidly hardening cock. He takes hold of it roughly and quickly starts pumping. Jesse groans into the kiss in response.

Walt breaks the kiss off, panting from the lack of oxygen, "I don't have anything-"

Jesse nods to his sweater lying on the floor, "I've got you covered. Your tone said either trouble or sex, and I figured your wife would have been too much of a prude for you to have anything, and better safe than sorry."

Walt scowls at the mention of Skyler, but regardless of the reminder he lifts himself off of Jesse to retrieve the tube from the sweater. He uncaps it, coats his index and middle finger, and throws the tube on the bed before returning to his position pinning Jesse with his left hand.

With little warning Walt places both fingers at Jesse's entrance and pushes them both in. Jesse, who must not have been ready for both, writhes under Walt letting out a choked moan. Immediately Walt's attention turns to finding Jesse's prostate.

"Fuuuuck," Jesse's back arches, "yeah, right there!"

Walt pushes both of his fingers against that same spot. The sound that comes out of Jesse is almost like a scream as his eyes clamp shut and his hips buck forward. Walt does this once more, eliciting a similar response before removing his fingers and grasping for the lubricant again.

As soon as his member is sufficiently lubricated he positions himself at Jesse's entrance and pushes himself inside. He waits only a moment for Jesse to adjust before he slowly starts moving, aiming for that same spot. Jesse gasps before he grabs Walt's head and pulls him into another kiss.

When Jesse groans, Walt knows he's hit Jesse's prostate again, and he now speeds up his thrusts. Jesse reaches down to wrap his hand around his neglected cock. In response, Walt removes one of his hands from Jesse's shoulders and swats Jesse's hand away, taking over for him, pumping his hand roughly along its length.

"Fuck yeah," Jesse pants, now trying to move himself to meet Walt's thrusts.

"Is that all you can say?" Walt grunts, thrusting particularly hard as a "one-up" to Jesse's new movements.

"Fuuuuu..." Jesse grits his teeth, "N-no. Just... ju- ahhh..."

Walt smirks, "What?"

"J- just make me come!"

Quickening his pace again, Walt leans closer to Jesse's ear and growls, "Say my name."

Walt will never know what was possessing Jesse in that moment, but as Jesse orgasms he screams, "Heisenberg!"

Walt manages a few more thrusts before his own, powerful orgasm overtakes him. It was as if a dam had been blocking his nerves, and that dam had broken, letting the sensation wash through him. He collapses on top of Jesse as wave after wave of intense pleasure courses through his body. Walt, with what consciousness he still has, realizes that Jesse must have felt slightly uncomfortable under his weight, as he could feel himself being rolled onto his side. Jesse then curls up against Walt, offering his comfort as more and more pleasure continues to rock through Walt's body.

After a blissful eternity Walt feels himself coasting down from the incredible pleasure-high. With what strength he has left he moves his head to whisper into Jesse's ear, "You're goddamn right."

Just then, there is a knock on the door. Both men ignore the knocking, too exhausted to move. The knock sounds again, this time slightly louder, followed by the creaking of the front door opening and a distant voice speaking.


Chapter Text

Jesse jumps at the sound of the voice and shoots up into a sitting position. He hadn't expected whoever was knocking to just let themselves in, but they did, and to make matters worse it was Mr. White's son, of all people.

Mr. White mumbles something incoherently as he tries to lift his head. Jesse places his hand on the older man's shoulder soothingly, "Shh, Mr. White, it's okay."

Jesse wishes that he could believe that everything was okay, but he can hear footsteps now. He can feel his heart beating a mile a minute as his mind races. What can he do? He could hide, but what would that do? It would leave a helpless, almost unconscious Mr. White to attempt to deal with his son, which just wouldn't happen.

The footsteps start to become louder, sending Jesse nearly into a panic. He can't think. There's nothing he can do.

"D-dad?" the voice calls out again, "Are you home? I saw your car, and -"

The bedroom door swings open. Mr. White's son is looking down, but his voice drops off when he notices the sweater laying on the floor. Jesse can almost see the path that the boy's eyes follow: the sweater, the pile of Jesse's clothes, the pile of Mr. White's clothes, the tube of lubricant... Then Jesse finds himself being gaped at. Not a second later the boy turns around and starts heading back down the hallway.

"Wait, wait!" Jesse calls out. The boy pauses for a moment and Jesse uses the opportunity, "I know, this is weird, but just give me, like, five minutes. We can talk."

Jesse gets no response, just a momentary silence before Mr. White's son continues walking. He doesn't know if he had managed to convince him to stay, but regardless, Jesse immediately jumps off the bed, gathers his clothes, runs to the bathroom, and starts the shower.

Jesse lets out a sigh of relief as he steps into the living room; Mr. White's son was sitting on the couch, staring at the fire place. He takes a few deep breaths in attempt to calm the nerves that had bubbled back up before sitting down in the armchair.

Jesse clears his throat, "So you must be Mr. White's son... Walter J-"

"Flynn," the boy interrupts, "My name is Flynn."

"Flynn," Jesse repeats, "We haven't met before. I'm Jesse Pinkman. I was one of your dad's students about ten years ago."

"Pl-please don't tell me that this has b-b-been going on for ten years."

"No, no, definitely not," Jesse backs himself up, "He was just my teacher. I flunked his class, and that was the last I saw of him until three years ago."

Something flashes in Flynn's eyes, "Th-three years ago? Did you and my dad d-deal drugs together?"

Jesse drags a hand over his face, "Yeah, we cooked together."

"Is that when-"

"No, this, uh... this is new."

An uncomfortable silence settles in over the two, neither one sure exactly what to say, until Jesse pipes up, "What made you come over here? I mean, I can guess that things ended pretty ugly between Mr. White and your mom, and I figured he had been alone a while."

Flynn glanced momentarily at Jesse before returning his gaze to the fireplace, "I h-hated him you know. I thought that he k-killed Uncle Hank. B-But then he handed mom that l-lottery ticket and s-said that we'd find Hank there. Mom didn't know w-what the ticket m-meant, and we couldn't j-just bring it to the police and say, 'We th-think that Hank Schrader is d-dead and that this lottery ticket h-has something to do with it.' It w-would have been t-too suspicious. So we put it on Aunt Marie's d-doorstep with a note, 'Hank is dead.'

"She took it to the p-police and they figured out that the n-numbers were coordinates. Th-they found Uncle Hank and another officer, Steve Gomez there. So y-yeah, I hated my dad for killing those t-two men."

Jesse opens his mouth to say something, but Flynn continues, "Th-then the autopsies came b-back, and they had been shot w-with two different guns. It didn't m-make sense. Why- why would my dad shoot two p-people with two different g-guns? It d-didn't make any sense. I tried to c-come up with some way my dad could be connected to everyth-thing. I d-didn't see how he c-could be connected to Uncle Hank's m-murder other than b-by cooking drugs. If he hadn't d-done that, Uncle Hank would still b-be alive. B-but that connection is so small. I c-couldn't be mad at him for Uncle Hank's death b-because of that.

"Two days ago, on my dad's b-birthday, I asked my mom if I could see him, o-or at least call him, but she s-said no. The next m-morning I t-tried calling both the house ph-phone and his cell, b-but no one answered. My mom caught me and g-grounded me. I packed my things and snuck out th-that night and went to my friend Louis'. And then today I h-had Louis drop me off h-here. I w-was hoping to stay here."

Jesse smiles, "I guess this wasn't exactly what you were expecting?"

Flynn shoots another glance back at Jesse, "No."

"Mr. White will be really happy that you're here. I know he must have missed you."

Flynn's gaze now actually rests on Jesse, "Wh-why hasn't he come out here yet? Is-is he okay?"

Jesse can feel the blush creeping into his cheeks, "No, he's fine. He's just... tired."

Flynn scowls and drops his gaze again, "Why ex-exactly are you two... um..."

"I honestly don't know," Jesse admits, his own eyes dropping to the floor, "I hadn't seen him for a year either, and we weren't exactly friendly at that point either. He came over out of the blue yesterday morning, and it just, kinda... happened."

"I g-guess I know why he didn't p-pick up the phone."

Jesse thinks for a second. He didn't remember hearing a phone, but then again, they were probably in the middle of having sex, and they weren't exactly quiet, "Yeah, he was a little preoccupied."

Flynn makes a short, dismissive, sort of noise, keeping his eyes fixed on his feet.

"But hey," Jesse says cheerfully, "At least you know you'll receive an enthusiastic greeting."

As soon as the words leave Jesse's mouth he feels like slapping himself in the face, until Flynn starts laughing. Jesse joins him, relieved his icebreaker, regardless of how insensitive it was, had actually managed to work.

"That is," Flynn adds through his laughter, "If he recovers fr-from whatever you did to him."

Jesse snorts, "What I did to him? You've got this backwards!"

"Ass-backwards?" This sends them both back into a fit of laughter.

"Hey, don't make me the butt of your jokes!"

"Y-you started this hole thing!"

"Don't get cheeky with me!"

"I th-think we've hit rock bottom."


The two of them are now in such hysterics that neither of them can talk. The laughter lasts a good thirty seconds before Jesse can calm down enough to ask, "How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Flynn replies through gasps, trying to catch his breath.

"You're supposed to be an adult now," Jesse jokes, "I'm asstounded that you still find this shit funny!"

"Yeah, it s-still cracks me up. P-plus, how old are you a-anyway?"

"Twenty-eight; you've got a point."

"I-I'm still not sure how I f-feel about this," Flynn admits, "I m-mean, he's my dad and you're h-half his age. B-but you're okay, Jesse."

Jesse smiles, "Thanks."

Chapter Text

Walt awakes with a start to the sound of laughter. Confused, he quickly glances around the room in an attempt to gather his thoughts. Skyler had called him demanding he not talk to his son, he'd gotten angry, then called Jesse, they had, frankly, mind-blowing sex, and now there were people laughing in his living room. His mind works in overdrive, trying to dig up some of the more foggy memories: a knock, the sound of a door opening...


Shit. He really hadn't been thinking, had he? Skyler had even told him that Junior was likely going to show up at his house, and he just had to not think. Now Junior and Jesse were out in the living room, discussing who knows what, while he was in here completely oblivious to the rest of the world for who knows how long.

"I'm asstounded that you still find this shit funny!"


"Yeah, it s-still cracks me up."

Walt shoots out of bed and hurriedly dresses himself in the previously discarded clothes, nearly snarling when he remembers that at least half of the buttons on his shirt had been torn off. Cursing himself for his haste earlier, he grabs another shirt from his closet as a replacement, slowing just enough to pay attention to the buttons.

Satisfied that he was at least presentable, Walt takes a couple of deep breaths, preparing himself for whatever damage control he may need to do. With that, he opens the door and walks down the hallway and into the living room.

"So he lives!" Jesse exclaims as Walt appears.

Walt narrows his eyes at Jesse, "Yes. Thank you for the observation Jesse."

Jesse's amused smile melts away to be replaced with a worried look, "Uh, everything's okay here Mr. White. I handled it, you don't need to worry. Everything's fine."

Walt's glare stays fixed on Jesse as he sits himself down on the couch, "Everything is fine, is it?"

"Y-yeah dad," Flynn answers for Jesse, his eyes shifting back and forth between his father and the younger man, "it really is."

Walt sighs and turns to face his son, "Junior, I-"

"Flynn," his son corrects.

Walt nods, "Flynn, I'm very sorry that you saw what you saw. I wasn't thinking. I invited Jesse over when I really shouldn't have, and now I really regret what I did."

Jesse scoffs playfully, "You can't tell me that you actually regret that, Heisenberg."

Walt tries, with only marginal success, to ignore the shiver that runs up his spine as he shoots a glare in Jesse's direction. When he turns back to his son, Flynn is smiling.

"Doesn't s-sound like there was much to regret."

Walt's face drops as he turns, once again, to face Jesse, "What did you tell him?"

Jesse raises his hands defensively, "Nothing!"

"You were p-passed out when I got here. It doesn't take being a rocket s-scientist to know when someone's had a-amazing sex."
Walt's eyebrows rise in shock and Jesse erupts into laughter.

"Your son isn't stupid," Jesse replies through a laugh, then adds, "or wrong."

The comment sends Jesse back into a roaring laugh, Flynn accompanying him.

Walt sighs again and lets his head fall back against the top of the couch, "If this is what you call 'everything being fine' then I guess everything's fine. I didn't expect 'everything's fine' to include a blow to my pride."

Just then, another knock sounds at the door.

Walt looks toward the door while a lump of dread settles itself into the pit of his stomach, "Both of you, hide," he commands.

"W-why?" Flynn questions.

"It's probably your mother," Walt says, turning toward his son, "So I'd suggest you hide, and quickly."

The knock sounds again, quick, sharp, and loud.

That's all the encouragement the two younger men seem to need, as they both jump out of their seats. They run down the hallway, ducking first into Flynn's old bedroom, and then thinking better of it, considering that would be the most likely hiding place, switch to Walt's room.

Walt shakes his head, and then glances down. Flynn brought a bag, which he had left sitting in the middle of the floor. Thinking quickly, Walt grabs the bag and throws it into the kitchen before he opens the door.

"Skyler, hi!" he feigns surprise, "What brings you here?"

Skyler scowls and pushes her way past Walt into the house, "Don't play games with me. My son is what brings me here."

Walt continues the façade, "He still hasn't come home?"

Skyler's scowl deepens, "No. I checked over at Louis', his car was there, but he wasn't. I managed to get Louis to tell me he drove Flynn here."

Walt's tongue darts out over his bottom lip nervously, "Okay, yes, he is here."

"No, really?" Skyler replies sarcastically, "I'm bringing him home, now."

"No, Skyler, you aren't," Walt says calmly, "Flynn is eighteen now, you can't pull the custody card any longer. If he wants to be here, that's his choice to make, and his alone."

"After what you did you think you deserve to see him?" Skyler shoots back, "After what you did to me, to him, to this family?"

"I've done my fair share of wrong-"

Skyler interrupts him with a laugh.

"Just let me state my case," Walt reasons, "I regret some of what I did, sure, but not all of it. I did what I thought I had to do. While in the end, yes, I did it for myself, in the beginning it was for the family. Sure, I ended up biting off much more than I could chew, but I stood tall, I saw it out. It may not have been the best way to go about leaving you, Flynn, and Holly with something, rather than nothing, it was my way, and I stand behind what I did. If that makes me a terrible person, so be it, you have every right to be angry with me, to hate me, but don't push that hate onto our son."

Skyler is staring at the floor now, "Can I at least talk to him?"

"Of course," Walt responds, deciding not to add 'I wouldn't keep our son from you', figuring that it wouldn't help the situation any.

"Alone," she doesn't ask, she states.

Walt sighs before walking down the hall and opening the door to his bedroom, "Flynn, your mother would like to talk to you."

Flynn groans, but complies, exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

"No yelling," Jesse comments, "Everything working itself out?"

"I hope so."

"Damn, no angry sex."

Walt actually laughs.

Chapter Text

Walt leaves the bedroom when he hears the front door slam, fearing the worst: that Skyler had taken Flynn back with her. Instead, he finds Flynn staring at the front door.

"Everything okay?" Walt asks, placing a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Y-yeah. I'm going to go get my stuff. M-mom said she'd bring me back later tonight," he turns around to face Walt, "If I'm n-not back here by ten, assume s-she's kidnapped me."

Walt smiles, "Don't worry, if that happens I'll come rescue you."

Flynn nods and follows Skyler's lead out to the car.

"Sounds like everything'll work out?" Jesse asks.

Jesse's voice makes Walt jump, not expecting him to have followed him out.

"It sounds like it."


Walt paces back and forth across the tile of the kitchen, eyes darting back and forth between the door and the phone. It's 10:01, and he doesn't know if he should be worrying.

"Relax," Jesse calls from the couch, "It's only like, a minute later than he said he'd be back by."

"I know, but you've met Skyler," Walt frets, "What if she changed her mind? What if Junior -"

"Flynn," Jesse corrects, sounding smug.

Walt scowls, "What if Flynn changed his mind? I finally have my son come back into my life only to have him leave again."

"Seriously, if it's bothering you that much, call."

Walt finally gives in and picks up the phone and starts to dial Skyler's number just as there's a knock on the door. He sets the phone down and rushes to the door, throwing it open.

"She didn't k-kidnap me," Flynn says as he walks through the door, "I assume I'll be taking m-my old room."

"Yes, yes of course," Walt almost sighs in relief, "Here, let me take your bag."

"Dad I can do it m-myself!"

"I know, I know. How about I help you unpack?"

"Will you let me say no?"


Once Walt's finished helping Flynn he wanders back into the living room and collapses on the couch next to Jesse.

"Tired?" Jesse asks.

Walt simply nods. He's completely exhausted after the tirade he's experienced today. The process of bringing his son back into his life could have lasted a week on its own, and facing Skyler's rage twice in one day was hardly a walk in the park.

"Too tired to..." Jesse places his hand on Walt's thigh.

Walt sighs, "Do you have no intention of going home?"

Jesse's hand leaves Walt's leg and he shifts away slightly, "I - uh... I guess I can go."

"No, sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Walt backpedals, "I'm just worn out and a little on edge."

Jesse nods.

"But you do need to go home at some point."

"Yeah, I guess," Jesse's gaze drops

"Or hell, just move on in here so that I have to deal with an adolescent as well as my son," Walt jokes.

"Could I? I feel like shit living alone in that house."

"Look," Walt sighs, unhappy that his joke had been taken seriously, especially since their relationship had only started yesterday, "how about you stay the night and we talk about this in the morning."

Jesse smiles, "Then can we?" His eyes flicker down pointedly to Walt's crotch, then back to his eyes.

"No, Jesse, we can't."

"Oh come on," Jesse whines, "What happened to Mr. Aggressive from this morning? Or should I say Heisenberg."

Walt feels heat rush up his face, "Shhh," he urges, "Is your attention span so short that you've forgotten that my son is in the house?"

There's a flash of desperation behind Jesse's eyes, "But I really need to..."

Walt sighs and waves his hand toward the hallway, "The bathroom is that way."

"Not the same," Jesse whines again.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Walt grumbles, but gives in, pulling Jesse into his lap, "I'll get you off if it'll shut you up."

"And if all you're doing is getting me off, why exactly am I straddling you?"

"Because I'm not letting you mess up my furniture or my carpet. At least my clothes will get washed," he explains as he unzips Jesse's jeans and pushes a hand inside his boxers.

Walt's hand moves slowly along Jesse's length coaxing it to full hardness. Jesse's head rolls back as a gasp escapes his lips.

Unhappy at the restriction to his movements, Walt stops to push Jesse's pants and underwear as far down as he can, exposing Jesse's now fully-hard cock. Jesse brings his mouth down over Walt's, coaxing him to continue his ministrations.

Walt wraps his hand back around Jesse's shaft and pumps him slightly faster. Jesse's lips break away from the kiss in a moan.

Quickly, Walt's other hand shoots up to cover Jesse's mouth, "I don't need my son hearing us."

Jesse nods and Walt removes his hand, placing it on Jesse's hip.

Meanwhile, Walt's other hand picks up the pace, hurrying Jesse towards release. Jesse presses his face into Walt's shoulder to muffle the sounds that escape him as his orgasm hits. Walt continues stroking Jesse through the aftershocks.

"Thanks," Jesse manages between pants.

Walt runs a hand through Jesse's hair, "Yeah, yeah, now get off."

Jesse raises his head from Walt's shoulder and smirks, "Oh? You're sure? Because I think," Jesse rolls his hips, "that I should return the favour. I can feel that you need it."

Walt blushes as he stifles a groan, "N-no, Jesse, you've made enough noise. I don't want Flynn hearing us."

"Too l-late!" a voice called from down the hall.

Now it's Jesse's turn to blush as Walt tries not to laugh.

"Not to say I told you so, but -"

Jesse hides his face back against Walt's shoulder, "Shut up."

Walt brings a hand back up to Jesse's hair and strokes through it soothingly. While this certainly wasn't where he pictured himself two days ago, or years ago when he first reconnected with Jesse, the situation he found himself in now is better than he ever could have imagined.

Walt chuckles to himself, "We from meth to whatever this is."

"Honestly, this is just as addicting," Jesse admits.

"Love is a strange drug," Walt concedes, wrapping his arms around Jesse's waist, "It really is."