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“I saved your life. Are you gonna save mine?”
Jesse’s eyes flicker from the floor to meet Walt’s as the latter speaks, and he can’t believe he’s considering going along with it.
They say nothing for a long time, Jesse’s eyes emitting sincerity and some other emotion that's difficult to place, and Walt looking almost vulnerable as the lights flash dimly around them.
In the din, Jesse can hear some scuffling and voices, one of which is Saul, and it takes him a moment to remember they’re in the middle of a lazer tag arcade. Something itches inside his very bone as he tries to come up with something to say to fill up the quiet, but nothing comes.
Walt is still looking at him, eyes dark and serious, and Jesse has to look away from the intensity of it. A second which feels like years passes before something touches Jesse’s face, and he flinches, still lost in his own thoughts. He realises eventually that it’s Walt’s fingertips, and looks up again to meet Walt’s gaze which has shifted into expressing something else somewhat.
Something which Jesse dares identify as affection spreads across Walt’s features, and it makes the boy both want to lean closer and head for the hills at the same time. Before he can decide on one or the other, a warm, large hand is at his neck, thumb stroking the skin next to his ear and he has to reach behind him for something to grip to stop himself sinking to the floor as though he’s being deflated.
Thankfully his hand finds something solid, though he has no idea what it is.
“Mr. White...” He whispers in a voice so low it’s almost as though he can’t even hear himself.
He swallows thickly.
Walt is closer now.
Close enough that Jesse is getting that weird tingling feeling one gets when something is close to their skin.
His instinct is to back up, give himself some space to breathe because with Walt so close it’s getting difficult to, but his legs won’t move.
They tremble slightly with the effort.
“What--” He begins, sounding almost the same as when he’s high, but before he can finish Walt closes the gap.
His lips are soft and his goatee scratches a little, but it’s not unpleasant.
Jesse is frozen, hand still firmly attached to whatever it is keeping him upright while the other dangles limply at his side. Walt’s hands however know exactly what they’re doing, one still holding Jesse’s neck firmly -- which Jesse is grateful for seeing as he doesn’t know if his head is about to fall off -- and the other snaking round to hold him at his lower back.
He feels strangely small in Walt’s grip; not that he didn’t know Walt was larger in many ways, it’s just even more exaggerated, like Walt’s presence is eclipsing every other possible sense.
It makes him think of a time what feels like forever ago, where Walt was trying to convince him to be brave, to get out of his slump, to take a tragedy and make it positive.
“Jesse, look at me. You are a blowfish. A blowfish! Think about it. Small in stature -not swift, not cunning. Easy prey for predators. But the blowfish has a secret weapon, doesn’t he? Doesn’t he? What does the blowfish do, Jesse? What does the blowfish do? The blowfish puffs up, okay. The blowfish puffs himself up four, five times larger than normal, and why? Why does he do that? So that it makes him intimidating, that’s why. Intimidating! So that the other, scarier fish are scared off. And that’s you! You are a blowfish! You see, it’s just all an illusion. Yes, it is. It’s nothing but air. Now, who messes with the blowfish, Jesse?”
“Nobody.”
“You’re damn right.”
Small in stature...
As if suddenly offended by that statement, Jesse jumps to life, hand that was at his side coming up to latch itself to Walt’s shoulder and the other shakily leaving its object of stability to cling to Walt’s arm.
It’s Walt’s turn to freeze now, seemingly surprised at Jesse’s sudden reciprocation, but when he feels a small, tentative soft tongue run against his lip he goes into overdrive, leaning into Jesse so that the small of his back hits something solid.
For a few moments, everything is forgotten save for the heat between them, the soft sounds surrounding them lost in the haze, and Jesse forgets that he’s making out with Mr. White of all people, that he’s doing it in a goddamn lazer tag joint, that Saul could come back and walk in on them at any moment--
That thought brings Jesse out of his stupor and his eyes snap open. He pulls away gently, slowly, and to his relief Walt doesn’t protest. They’re panting, still clinging to each other as though if they let go both would sink into some kind of unknown oblivion beneath them.
Jesse’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he can still taste Walt on them. It’s slightly minty with an unidentifiable undertone that he guesses could only be pure Walt. It’s not too bad.
He doesn’t voice this, of course.
They gingerly break apart, letting go of one another, neither of them sure quite exactly what to say.
“Well,” is all Walt says.
“Yeah,” says Jesse, refusing to meet Walt’s eyes.
Jesse awkwardly shifts his weight, and Walt looks around as though trying to find some sort of distraction.
When he finds none, he looks at Jesse again, who finds a part of the floor that keeps lighting up red suddenly extremely interesting.
“It’s okay, Jesse,” Walt says eventually, his voice quiet yet audible above the background sounds of the games. He begins to turn. “I’ll figure out another--”
“No,” Jesse says, reaching out instinctively and grabbing Walt’s sleeve, gripping it tightly. “I... I’ll do it. I just have to... find out where he lives, right?”
“Yes,” Walt says as he turns back to face Jesse, eyes widening slightly before he relaxes and they crinkle into an almost smile. “Thank you, Jesse. It has to be done.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Jesse says with a jerk of his shoulder. “We’ll be even after this, won’t we?”
“Yes. Equal. Fifty-fifty.”