Breaking Bad Fic: What You Need, Parts 1-2
Fandom: Breaking Bad
Title: What You Need
Author: readishmael
Pairing: Walt/Jesse
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~17,800
Spoilers: Through 3x13, “Full Measure”
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not for profit. No copyright infringement is intended. Breaking Bad belongs to Vince Gilligan, AMC, and Sony Television.
Warnings: Angst; schmoopy/fluffy hurt/comfort wish fulfillment; Daddy!kink.
Dedication: To squonkfan. I love you; you have no idea.
A/N: The first part of this has been behind members lock at bb_slashfor a year now, but since I'm making the rest of it public, I thought I should re-post part one, as well. Forgive the tense change between it and the rest of the fic. Thanks to my first round beta sydpenguinbunnyand my second round beta mspotamus. Also thanks, as always, to my girls at the clubhouse, for early feedback and everything else. And thanks as well to all of the above, plus a few others who have read this ahead of my posting it, for assuring me that it's not completely ridiculous. Lastly: there is art for this fic from the awesome capgras_syndrom, which you can see here. I'd leave it for the end, though.
Summary: After the events of 3x13, Walt helps Jesse cope.
Jesse's been on the brink of tears ever since he showed up--probably much longer than that, in fact--but the breakdown that Walt's anticipating still hasn't happened. A couple of times he's stopped his restless pacing to sit down on the couch, but both times he'd gotten back up immediately when Walt had tried to put his arm around him, had shut down the attempt at comfort just as he's ignored and talked over everything Walt has tried to say. Walt's been on his guard for this rejection to become something more heated, uglier, but everything Jesse has said since he arrived, all the anger and recriminations and loathing, have been directed at himself.
“I just keep thinking about what you said in the lab, you know, about missing your perfect moment?” he's saying now, tramping back and forth across Walt's living room. Walt watches him from the couch, only half-listening by this point, waiting for his next opportunity to make some futile calming gesture. “I mean, I was thinking at first that maybe you shoulda just let those two guys kill me. Then you wouldn't of got in trouble, right, and none of this woulda happened. And I was...I just...I thought I was gonna be the good guy, you know?”
He rubs his hand over his eye and down his cheek, and stops long enough for Walt to try to formulate a reply. Before he can think of one, Jesse goes on.
“But then I realized how fucking stupid that thought was. 'Cuz the kid was already dead. I got that little kid killed because I couldn't just let it go like you said.”
Walt winces. He can't listen to this much longer; he's tense and exhausted already from having to sit here, useless, not understanding what Jesse wants from him. The kid's turned down every attempt at comfort, and probably wants Walt's thanks or praise even less right now than his reassurances, but he hasn't tried to pick a fight, either. Maybe Walt was supposed to do it, supposed to get offended that Jesse seems to feel so much regret over actions taken to save Walt's life, to repay a debt, but with Jesse starting down this road of self-flagellation there's no longer any chance of either making Jesse angry enough to forget his guilt or shaming him into silence. There's nothing for Walt to do except wait for him to break.
“So then I was thinking over all the stupid shit I did since I got clean, and I was thinking that maybe you shoulda just left me to rot in that place I went after Jane...Woulda saved everyone a whole lot of trouble. But then there's still Jane, and...and her dad, and all those...all those people on those planes. So I go back a little further, and a little further, and, I mean, do you get what I'm saying here? I can't find my moment. Right? No matter how far I go back, there's always something else.”
Finally he stops, looks at Walt, expectant, waiting for some reply, some answer. Walt has no idea what the kid wants to hear, but he sticks to the central issue and tries the most reassuring thing he can think of. “You had no choice, Jesse. We had no choice. They were going to kill me, and then you; you know that. You did what you had to do. Okay? You saved my life.”
“No, no, no, don't give me that, alright? I bought you some time, that's all. I killed one guy and they're just gonna find someone else, another goddamn chemist, and then we're gonna have to do it all over again.”
“I'm not that easy to replace, Jesse.”
“No. But they're gonna keep trying, and it's never gonna be over. You get it? It's never gonna be okay. I just killed a guy and we're just getting started.” Finally Jesse's self-possession shatters and he bursts into tears. “He was begging me, man. He begged me and I did it, anyway.”
He comes back to the couch and sits, but he doesn't reach out for Walt like Walt expects; he keeps some distance between them, and covers his face with his hands. Walt can see his body shaking from the sobs, can feel it when he reaches out tentatively to rub Jesse's back, but Jesse is making an effort to keep himself quiet and when Walt puts his arm around his shoulders and tries gently to pull Jesse to him, Jesse resists.
Frustrated, confused and wary over Jesse's reluctance to be comforted, wanting this whole scene to just be over already, Walt gives up being gentle and just yanks Jesse's arm, pulls him roughly into an embrace. Jesse gives a strangled yelp of surprise, but when Walt gets his arms locked around Jesse's back, Jesse doesn't pull away. He does as Walt wanted, returns the hug and buries his face in Walt's chest, and Walt sighs his relief as Jesse's tears soak his shirt.
At last, there's something he can do, and for a while he doesn't have to think anymore. He just holds Jesse, rocks him back and forth, strokes his hands through his hair and along his back, and makes absent soothing noises. Walt doesn't know how long they stay that way, but it's a while, neither of them moving even long after Jesse's done crying.
When Jesse finally pulls back, the look he gives Walt is more embarrassed than grateful, but he doesn't move away from him. He sinks back into the couch and leans heavily against Walt's side. When Walt puts his arm back around him, Jesse presses in even closer, lays his head on Walt's shoulder, and closes his eyes.
After a long moment, he asks, “What now, Mr. White?”
“Don't worry about it, Jesse. I have it all under control. It's all going to be okay.”
“I mean...now now.” Walt feels him tense a little, and realizes Jesse's waiting to see if Walt's gonna kick him out.
“You should stay here,” he answers, trying to be casual, like he didn't feel Jesse asking. “Stay and try to get some sleep.”
Jesse chuffs a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, that ain't happening.”
“You need to rest, Jesse.”
“There's no way I can sleep right now.”
“Are you sure? Is there anything that'll help?”
Jesse shrugs.
“What do you do normally when you can't sleep?”
“Um...I, uh. You know.” His voice drops. “Jerk off, mainly.”
“Oh. That's, uh...that's actually probably a smart idea. I can leave you alone for a while.” Walt starts to rise. Jesse immediately reaches out to stop him, barely touches his arm before pulling his hand back quickly.
“Don't go,” he mumbles, head down and eyes on the floor.
“You want me to stay while you...?” Walt feels a flutter of something in his stomach, and he quashes it right away.
“What? Jesus, no,” Jesse answers. Of course. “I just meant I ain't doin' it. How could I?” He takes a ragged breath. “Besides, I don't wanna go to sleep. I know I'll end up dreaming about...God, his face. And...and...Christ, they were gonna kill you!” He buries his head in his hands.
Walt knows he has to head this off before Jesse starts getting worked up again. He's run out of things to say, is tired of waiting for the moment when Jesse remembers that it was Walt who'd put him on this path and turns on him.
He snakes his hand into Jesse's crotch.
Jesse jolts, tenses, but he doesn't pull away.
“Wh...Mr. White...what...?”
Walt's first instinct is to offer Jesse a lecture, justify this solution by explaining the biochemistry of it all, and he almost does so, knowing Jesse would have no defense against it. But seeing Jesse's nervousness, he knows it's not the right tack. The goal is to make Jesse feel better, not to make him feel stupid.
So instead, he pulls Jesse tighter to his side, places a gentle hand on the back of Jesse's head to press the boy's face into his neck. He keeps his hand in Jesse's hair while the other undoes Jesse's pants.
“I'm just trying to help you sleep,” he says. “That's all this is, okay? Trust me. You need this.”
“I don't think...” Jesse starts, and Walt hushes him.
“It's okay, Jesse. Just let me. I just want to take care of you.”
Jesse doesn't say anything more, but he shifts on the couch, slouches down and spreads his legs a little. He lets out a shaky breath against Walt's neck, and Walt shivers and for a second is acutely aware of just how utterly insane this is, wonders if regardless of what he'd said, they'd look at this in the morning like a violation. Wonders if they'd be right to think so.
But pulling away now would only give Jesse reason to question him. Besides, it's still the best solution to the problem. He slides his fingers into Jesse's underwear, traces them along his flaccid cock and feels it twitch and start to stiffen, and when Jesse sighs all Walt's anxiety disappears.
He keeps his touch light, teasing, coaxing Jesse into hardness. Jesse's breathing gets harsh, and he opens his legs a little wider, shifts his hips in search of more contact, groans low in his chest when Walt glides his nails lightly over his shaft. It's not long before he's fully hard, straining at the fabric of his boxers. Walt tugs them down, and smiles faintly at Jesse's gasp when Walt takes his exposed erection in his hand.
Walt doesn't establish a steady rhythm right away. He varies his strokes, pausing frequently to give Jesse's cock a light squeeze, to sweep his thumb over the head, to curl his fingers around Jesse's balls. He doesn't think about what he's doing, tries to keep himself detached and remind himself that this is an act of pragmatism even above kindness, and for a while he's able to approach it practically, like a lab experiment. But then Jesse folds into him, reaches across Walt's chest to grip his shoulder, and on the next stroke he bucks up into Walt's hand and whimpers. Walt chokes back a moan, and when he feels his cock swell he realizes that he's already mostly hard.
Walt tightens his grip and speeds his strokes, wanting desperately though half-consciously for Jesse to make that sound again. Jesse moves his hips in time with Walt's hand and occasionally voices a soft hum, but Walt can hear his throat working and he knows that Jesse is straining to keep quiet. Walt doesn't bother ignoring or rationalizing his disappointment, and tries to think of some way to communicate to Jesse that he wants to hear him without making this something it's not supposed to be.
“It's alright, Jesse, you're okay,” he says, low and soothing, turning his head to drop a kiss into Jesse's hair. He's rewarded with a groan and a particularly forceful thrust of Jesse's hips.
“I've got you, you're okay, everything's okay.”
Jesse exhales sharply. Walt ups his pace a little more and continues.
“That's it, that's good, you're doing great.” This time Jesse bucks, whines; Walt closes his eyes and tries to keep his breathing under control, to keep himself still.
“Good, Jesse, that's good. Good -” He pauses, clears his throat, then forces it out. “Good boy.”
Jesse mutters a desperate Oh God and squeezes Walt's shoulder hard enough to hurt, and then Walt's control slips and he's just babbling to him mindlessly, just a litany of Good boy, Jesse, good boy, that's it, that's right, that's my good boy, yeah, come on, such a good boy, and Jesse provides a counterpoint, oh fuck oh shit and then suddenly please, please Mr. White, please.
“Come on, Jesse, come on, do it, do it for me, that's my good boy,” and then Jesse surges forward, cries out and comes into Walt's hand.
Walt goes quiet and stays still, listens and feels as Jesse's breathing evens out. When it does, Walt takes his hands off Jesse and shifts his weight, starts to pull away. Jesse makes a noise of protest, and Walt shushes him.
“I need to get something to clean you up, okay? Just lay down. I'll be right back.”
Jesse drops his arm from Walt's shoulder, and Walt stands up and heads to the bathroom.
As soon as he shuts the door behind him he leans back against it, rips his pants open and takes himself into his messy hand. It's over almost immediately; a half dozen rough strokes and then he's coming.
He cleans himself up and gets a washcloth for Jesse. When he goes back out to the living room, Jesse's laying down like he was told, on his side with his knees pulled up to his chest, not sleeping yet but definitely on the way. Walt crouches down next to him.
Jesse looks at him with bleary eyes and gives him a sweet, sleepy smile that makes Walt's chest clench painfully. He sees the washcloth in Walt's hand and starts to reach for it, and Walt pulls it back, startled. Jesse frowns.
“Let me,” Walt insists. Jesse's only half-awake, but Walt almost expects him to argue, anyway. Instead, he smiles again and gives a happy hum of approval that makes Walt grit his teeth as he feels his cock stir again.
He cleans Jesse off, trying to do it in the least invasive or stimulating way he can. Then he removes Jesse's shoes and strips off his pants. Jesse cooperates as well as he can in his languid state, but he's fading fast. When he's finished, Walt gets back up and goes to the bedroom for a blanket, expecting Jesse to be fully asleep before he gets him covered up.
When he returns to the couch, he thinks he was right: Jesse is out. Walt spreads the blanket over him carefully. When it's done to his satisfaction, he stops, stands looking down at Jesse for a moment, and then reaches out to run his fingers through his hair. He's surprised to hear Jesse sigh, and he pulls his hand away.
“G'night, Mr. White,” Jesse murmurs.
“Good night, Jesse.” He hesitates, then leans down to press a kiss to Jesse's forehead. When he straightens up, he turns off the lights, goes into his bedroom, and shuts the door.
**************
Walt woke up to the sounds of someone getting sick. For a moment he felt a dislocating sense of deja vu; he was briefly convinced that it was actually him throwing up, that he was once again facing the effects of the chemo. He'd turn around when he was done and Skyler would be there, looking at him with that mix of pity and worry that had always seemed to him to add up to something almost resentful.
As he came closer to clarity, though, the realization came to him: it was Jesse. And then he was pulled into real alertness by a moment of absurd panic-Jesse was on his back; he had to turn him over before it was too late. It was just a flash, though, and then it was gone. Jesse was in the bathroom, of course; he could see the light illuminating the hallway through the crack under his bedroom door.
Which meant that Jesse must have left the bathroom door open. Walt was distracted briefly by the competing feelings of exasperation and pity this inspired, not sure if Jesse was being inconsiderate or if he had really just been that desperate, and reacting to both possibilities at once.
Then another idea occurred to him: maybe Jesse had in fact been hoping to wake him up. Maybe he was expecting that Walt would come in and attend to him. Comfort him.
The thought filled him with sickly unease. That wasn't an expectation he was comfortable with Jesse having. More to the point, his having it now could only mean that something had shifted between them earlier tonight, and Walt wasn't eager to see what kinds of changes that would bring.
But at the same time, the idea of Jesse sitting there waiting for him gnawed at him.
For a while, Walt tried to force himself to stay still, to leave Jesse to himself and go back to sleep, but he couldn't relax or stop himself from listening, and when he heard Jesse start to sob, a new line of reasoning came to him and buried his anxiety: he couldn't let Jesse handle this on his own; there was no telling what kind of trouble he might get himself into. And if Jesse was already comfortable with the idea of Walt looking after him more directly, maybe he could take advantage of that to help keep Jesse in line. Keep him safe.
So he got up after all-went to the bathroom and crouched behind Jesse where he sat in front of the toilet in his T-shirt and boxers, and immediately started to rub his back.
Jesse jolted at the first touch. Walt started, but didn't pull his hand away.
“What're you doing?”
“What do you think?” He paused. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Mm. No. It's nice.”
Walt smiled to himself.
“I didn't mean to wake you up.”
“It's okay.”
They sat in silence for a while, and then Jesse spoke again. “My mom used to do that whenever I got sick. Back when I was a kid. Back when...back when I was still a good...” There's a pause in which Walt can hear Jesse think boy and reconsider it, before he finishes, “a good guy. Instead of the scumbag fuck-up I am now.”
“Dammit, we're not going down that road again,” Walt snapped, surprising both of them. Jesse flinched.
Walt realized he was still tense over what Jesse didn't say, and took a second to calm himself. Then he gently turned Jesse around to face him. “Jesse, listen to me. You are not a fuck-up, okay? You aren't. I needed you, and you came through for me.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn't of been in that situation if it wasn't for me.”
“You were just trying to do the right thing.”
“Yeah. And I fucked it up.”
Walt had to press his lips together to keep from laughing at the unexpected cleverness of that reply. When the impulse faded, he put one hand on Jesse's shoulder, and placed the other against his cheek.
“Look at me,” he insisted, and Jesse lifted his eyes to meet Walt's. He went on. “I would do it again. Do you understand? If I had it to do over again, knowing how much trouble it was going to cause me, I would do it again.”
Jesse nodded his understanding, but immediately averted his eyes. Walt frowned, confused. Then he thought he understood, and his frown deepened and grew darker.
“Would you?”
Jesse tried to turn his head away, but Walt used the hand on his cheek to turn it back. Jesse licked his lips, opened his mouth to talk, and then said nothing.
“Jesse...”
“I don't know! Okay? I mean, I'm sorry to say that and everything, because I wanted to save you, that was the most important thing, yo, you have to know that, I wouldn't have done it otherwise, but...” He sighed. “I just keep thinking that there had to be another way, and if I wasn't such an idiot I coulda found it.”
“There wasn't, Jesse.”
“But, I mean, did he even know? I mean, he liked you, right? Maybe I coulda explained it to him, and he woulda...quit, or something.”
“They wouldn't have let him.”
“Left town, then.”
“Jesse, he knew. He knew and he was going to let it happen.”
Jesse let out a watery sigh, and then timidly raised his eyes up to Walt's again. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. There was no other way. I'm sure.”
“No, I mean...are you sure you'd do it again?”
He gave Walt a desperate, pleading look, begged him with his eyes to tell him what he wanted to hear. Walt was fascinated by Jesse, sitting there, staring at Walt, needing his affirmation and reassurance. Needing his devotion.
Needing him.
Walt had a brief sensation of losing gravity, and then, on impulse, pulled Jesse in for a hug. He murmured to him, yes, yes, of course, and Jesse buried his face in Walt's neck and hugged him back.
After a moment he pulled away. Walt didn't fail to notice that Jesse still hadn't answered his question, but he decided to let it go. He helped Jesse up off the ground and sat him on the edge of the tub, and handed him a bottle of mouthwash from the medicine cabinet. While Jesse took a generous swig, Walt took a look out into the living room and noticed for the first time that there were no lights on.
He waited for Jesse to move to the sink and spit before asking him, “Were you awake long before you came in here?”
“No. I was actually sleeping really good until I had the nightmare that made me sick...thanks to you.”
Walt froze, his mouth going dry. For a second he couldn't tell if Jesse was crediting him with the sleep or the nightmare, whether he was finally ready to start laying the blame for this whole situation at Walt's feet or if he'd suddenly decided he wanted to talk about what had happened earlier.
Jesse met his silence with sheepishness.
“Sorry. Guess you don't wanna talk about it.”
“Well...”
“I mean, I know it was a one time thing and all.”
“I'm...glad it helped. That's good.” His mouth was still too dry.
“Yeah.” Jesse paused, looked at Walt, seemed to be waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, he cleared his throat. “So...I'm gonna hit the couch, if that's cool.”
“Of course.” He'd meant to shut up there, but the expectant weight of the silence had him frazzled, and he added, “Do you need anything?”
Jesse looked surprised, then speculative, and Walt realized his mistake.
“Are you...?” Jesse started, and when Walt just opened his mouth and said nothing, he shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Did you want...?”
Jesse dropped his eyes to the tile and shrugged. Walt didn't think he would say anything, and he busied himself trying to think of a way to make the subject drop without refusing and causing Jesse any unnecessary embarrassment. Then Jesse coughed. “Well, I mean, it wouldn't be any different from before, right? I mean, nothing's changed.”
Cautiously, Walt answered, “No, I suppose not.”
Jesse glanced at him briefly, and was quiet.
Walt let the silence draw out for as long as he could stand. Then: “Are you really asking?”
Jesse took a deep breath. “Look, you don't have to actually...I mean, you don't have to do anything, but if you could just maybe...talk to me? Like before. And I'll, you know, handle the rest.”
“You...liked that?”
Jesse nodded. “And so did you.” Walt couldn't imagine what his face must have looked like, because Jesse actually offered him a wry little smirk. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“Oh. I didn't mean...I mean, I hope you don't think...”
“Yeah, no. I know. It's all good. And, hey, if you wanted to...you know, at the same time, I won't freak out or anything.”
Walt nodded to indicate that he understood, but at the same time, he swore to himself that he wouldn't. Not again, and definitely not right out in the open.
But as to the other...well, Jesse was right. Nothing had really changed, and if he'd insisted earlier but refused now, what message would that send?
“If that's what you think you need,” he assented in a strained voice, and then let Jesse lead the way back to the couch.
Walt turned on one of the lamps and they sat down; Jesse pressed in close to Walt's side, and Walt slipped his arm around Jesse's waist.
“Did you want me to start?” he asked, feeling foolish and out of his depth and not minding; Jesse was solid and warm next to him, and this was what he wanted. He'd asked for it.
“Yeah, you start.” He drummed his fingers lightly against his bare thighs.
Walt knew what Jesse really wanted to hear, and the words rose to his tongue immediately, good boy, but if he started there he'd have nowhere to go.
“Any requests?” he joked while he searched his mind for something smaller, less obviously sexually charged.
Jesse smiled and shook his head. “Nice things, yo. Just nice things. Help me feel good.”
So Walt started there, telling Jesse that he deserved to feel good, that he was brave and loyal and decent, that he was proud of him, that he was going to take care of him, that everything was going to be okay and that he was going to make sure he felt good, just like he should. At first Jesse just listened with his eyes closed, breathing deeply, but as Walt came to the end of this first barrage, he slid his palm over the front of his boxers.
“There you go, Jesse, that's it. Just like that, come on.”
Walt watched the bulge grow under Jesse's hand and for a moment was taken by a vivid fantasy: him fully-clothed, holding a naked Jesse close to him-holding him still-and talking to him like this, watching his cock rise and swell and go untouched. The words dried up in his mouth, and for a moment he could only exhale humid breath against Jesse's ear. Instantly, his resolve shattered, and he used his free hand to undo his pants.
Jesse noticed. “Are you gonna-?”
“Shh, shh, never mind, it doesn't matter. Okay? This is all about you, son.” He winced at that last word, wanting to call it back, but Jesse's eyes fluttered shut and he made this small, helpless noise that made Walt's chest ache and his cock twitch. He and Jesse slipped their hands into their underwear at the same time.
Walt started talking again, a steady stream of encouraging things, good, Jesse, that's good, just like that, you're doing great. A couple of times, that “son” slipped in there again unbidden, and Jesse's breath hitched and he whined high in his throat and Walt's head spun, feeling simultaneously disoriented and more firmly, acutely in command of a situation than at any time he could remember. He gave his cock a nearly-brutal squeeze and then ran his thumb lightly back and forth over the head, watching Jesse's hand move in his shorts and wanting to reach out and tug them down, expose his ministrations to Walt's sight and the open air.
Soon Jesse did it for him, and Walt swallowed hard, had to catch his breath before he could continue talking. Jesse was moaning continuously now, and Walt finally felt justified in escalating things. The first “good boy” made Jesse arch his back and lift his hips, and once again Walt found himself letting loose an unfiltered flood of babble.
“You're my good boy, Jesse, always, you're such a good boy, aren't you, yeah, so good, just like that, come on, son, be my good boy--”
“Oh shit, Mr. White,” Jesse choked out, and Walt stopped stroking himself so he could wrap his hand around Jesse's and squeeze, force him to bear down as he finished. Jesse bucked up hard, and came over both of their hands.
Walt didn't take his hand back right away. He swept his thumb lightly over Jesse's knuckles and talked him through the aftermath, just little soothing words now, shh, shh, that's alright, you're okay. Jesse laid his head against Walt's shoulder and seemed to melt.
As soon as Walt pulled his hand away from Jesse's to slip it back into his pants, he felt Jesse's tentative hand on his thigh. Immediately horrified, he seized Jesse's wrist and lifted the hand off of him.
Jesse gave him a surprised, almost wounded look, and Walt instantly loosened his grip.
“It's okay, Jesse, don't worry about it. Just relax.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Jesse shrugged and settled himself, still leaning heavily against Walt's side. His breath against Walt's neck made him shudder, and he went back to work on himself, short, fast strokes, trying to finish as quickly and quietly as possible. Jesse stirred languidly next to him and voiced a small noise of contentment, and then it was over; Walt came with a choked gasp and slumped back against the couch.
For a moment the temptation to just doze off right there was nearly overpowering, but the idea of Jesse waking up to a new day with all the evidence of...whatever this was, all right out there in the open where it couldn't be ignored sparked his will to move, and for the second time that night he went to the bathroom, went through the motions of cleaning himself up, and brought out a washcloth for Jesse.
This time, when Jesse reached for the washcloth, Walt let him take it, stood there awkwardly in front of him while he wiped himself off and righted his boxers, and turned over in his head the weird desire he was suddenly having to take Jesse to bed with him.
He rejected it.
When Jesse was done, he held onto the washcloth and sat looking at the floor. Just as Walt was about to say his name, get his attention and try to bring everything to a close, he looked up.
“Do you think you could maybe say some of that stuff sometime when neither of us have a hand on my dick?”
Walt was surprised into laughing, and thankfully Jesse just smiled a strangely indulgent smile instead of looking hurt. Once he could keep his face straight, he put his hand on Jesse's cheek.
“You're a good kid, Jesse,” he said, and it wasn't quite the same, they both knew it, but it was as close as he could bring himself to get tonight.
Jesse smiled again and looked down at the ground, then gazed up shyly at him from under his lashes. The smile faded into a somber expression. “I would do it again. I don't know if I'm, like, really okay with that or anything, but...I would.”
Walt opened his mouth to respond, and the invitation slipped out. “Do you think you would sleep better if you came in and laid down with me?”
Jesse looked stunned. After a second he looked pleased, but soon that happiness was buried under doubt, and he looked away. “Nah, I'll be fine out here.”
Walt finally pulled his hand back from Jesse's cheek. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Well...okay. I'll see you in the morning.” He reached down and plucked the washcloth from Jesse's hand.
“Yeah. See ya.”
Jesse put his head back and closed his eyes as Walt shut off the lamp. He tossed the washcloth into the hamper and went back to bed.
This time he left his door open.
Parts 3-4