Sweet Tooth

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/41631564.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandoms: Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul (TV)
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman/Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca, Jesse Pinkman/Walter White
Characters: Jesse Pinkman, Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca, Walter White
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, a love triangle straight from the
bowels of hell, Gaslighting, Manipulation, but surely that is not a surprise,
bless aaron paul for agreeing that jesse loves buttplugs, someone finally
takes jesse go-karting, a demented rom-com, past Lalo/Nacho, Jealousy, age
gap, Barebacking, Drug use (weed)
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-09-11 Completed: 2024-05-18 Words: 56,652 Chapters:
14/14
 Sweet Tooth
by Seraphtrevs

Summary

A Lalo-won-the-shoot-out AU

In exchange for his life, Walt agrees to work for Lalo in the superlab, which now belongs to the
cartel. Walt's sure that Lalo is plotting against him, but all of his attention seems to be focused
on Jesse, for some reason...

Notes

So the premise is that Lalo won the shootout with Gus and took possession of the superlab.
When Tuco is killed, Lalo is the one who heads north to seek revenge, but Walt is able to strike a
deal - he and Jesse will cook in exchange for their lives. Assume canon up until Walt begins
working with Gus. So Jane is in, but Gale is out. Oh, and Mike works for Lalo - I haven't
decided how relevant that is yet

Honestly, I recommend not thinking too hard about it - it's pretty silly. Relax your mind and let
the crack wash over you
 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The Salamanca man was a problem.

He’d shown up to Walt’s home—thank God Skyler and the kids hadn’t been there—and put a
literal gun to his head, seeking revenge, of all things, for the death of his cousin Tuco. As if that
methed-out maniac’s demise were his fault—all Walt had wanted was to do business with the
man. If he were a rational, sane person, none of it would have happened. Walt couldn’t be held
responsible for his lunacy.

But thanks to some quick thinking, Walt was able to convince this new Salamanca that they
could do business together. In fact, the whole thing turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The
cartel had built a state-of-the-art lab but had no one competent to run it. Salamanca—or Lalo, as
he insisted on being called—was perhaps a tad smarter than his cousin, because he immediately
understood Walt’s value, and agreed to a trial cook.

Now, Walt knew that all he had done was buy some time. The cook was, of course, a massive
success, but he didn’t think for a moment Lalo had given up on revenge. These animals were all
the same—all passion, no brains. As soon as Lalo figured out a way to get rid of Walt, he would.
But Walt was good at thinking on his feet. He’d dealt with one Salamanca—no doubt he’d find a
way to deal with this one, too.
Annoyingly, Lalo insisted on being present during their cooks. The first couple of times, both he
and Jesse had been tense, waiting for some fit of temper. But none came. In fact, Lalo was
downright jovial much of the time—no doubt a ploy to catch them off guard, but Walt wouldn’t
be fooled.

Still, Walt allowed himself to relax just a tiny bit. Things were looking up in general. Skyler was
starting to see reason, and Jesse had many months of sobriety under his belt. His cancer
remained in remission. And this lab was truly spectacular—he finally had the caliber of
equipment that matched his genius. The future looked—dare he say it?—bright.

And so he was in a good mood the third time they cooked. He even whistled a little as he and
Jesse changed into their street clothes when they were finished for the day.

His whistling was drowned out by a burst of song. Lalo was singing some old-fashioned Latin
ballad to himself as he examined the yield on the other side of the lab, and not quietly.

He caught Jesse’s gaze and rolled his eyes. “Could he possibly be more annoying? I can't wait
for him to get bored. Maybe then we'll finally have some peace."

Jesse made a noncommittal noise as he put on his shoes. “Hey, you wanna do something?”

Walt blinked. “Do something? Like what?”

“Go-karts?”

Walt’s confusion increased. “Go-karts?”

“Yeah, there’s a track down by the Colosseum. It’s pretty fun.”

Walt was at a loss. They’d never really done anything for "fun" before. Was that really
something Jesse wanted from him? Didn't he have friends to do that sort of thing with? Walt
was too old for go-karts. “No,” he said eventually. “I have a meeting."

Jesse shrugged. His eyes were empty. “Whatever.”

Walt’s heart softened. Poor Jesse, clearly still struggling after Jane’s loss. He seemed like he was
staying sober, but that might change if he got too blue, Maybe they should do something
together. Just not go-karts. He was about to suggest a raincheck, when all of a sudden, Lalo was
by their side.

He flashed them a smile. “Did someone say go-karts? I love go-karts!”

Walt and Jesse stared at him. Jesse was the first to find his voice. “You do?”

“And I have been bored out of my skull--your city is not as interesting as it used to be." He
patted Jesse's arm. "What do you say you and I go?”

Jesse looked to Walt, then back to Lalo. “Uh, sure, yeah.”

What? “No,” Walt said firmly. “That’s not a good idea.”

Lalo smiled. “Oh, come on—I think this is just the thing for us to get to know each other a little
better. Why don’t you come too?”

Skyler would kill him if he missed the meeting. “I can’t.”

“Then maybe next time.” He put an arm around Jesse and gestured with his head towards the
stairs. “Go on, now. You don’t want to miss your meeting.”

Walt rankled at being dismissed, but he really did have to go. And he doubted Lalo planned to
do anything nefarious to Jesse. Maybe this would be good reconnaissance to find out some of his
weaknesses.

“All right,” Walt reluctantly agreed. He looked to Jesse. “I’ll call you later.”

“Sure.” That dead-eyed look again. Walt couldn’t help but feel like he was abandoning him. But
Jesse was an adult, he reminded himself. He was sure it would be fine.

***

The go-karting itself was a blur.

Which was the point, usually. Jesse liked go-karting because it dulled the non-stop bullshit that
usually played at top volume in his head— his biggest regrets, his worst memories, his most
terrifying fears. Jane’s vomit-soaked hair and Tuco’s gun in his face got a lot blurrier when he
was on the track. It gave him something to concentrate on.

Didn’t work as well when there was a cartel don lapping you, even if he gave you a friendly
wave every time he passed. Especially since the guy was the cousin of the guy who almost killed
you twice.

Afterward, they got lunch at the on-site café. The go-karts were a part of a bigger family
entertainment center, and there was a birthday party being celebrated. Kids whizzed around the
arcade, bouncing off the walls like pinballs, their faces smeared with frosting. Another reason
Jesse loved this place—nothing drowned out misery like the sound of kids having fun.

Lalo told Jesse to find a place to sit while he placed their order. Jesse was kinda surprised he
wanted to eat here—family fun center wasn’t exactly the ambiance he imagined a drug lord
would be into.

But Lalo wasn’t your average drug lord. He didn’t dress like one, for starters. Today he wore a
pale pink shirt, olive green pants, and these weird bright blue loafers. It wasn’t an outfit that
screamed narco. Another weird thing about him was that he didn’t haul a bunch of back up
muscle everywhere he went. In Jesse’s experience, the bigshots were never alone. They always
traveled with a crew. Stands to reason—being assassinated was, like, the top cause of death for
these guys.

But Lalo seemed to prefer to be on his own. Other than Mike, Jesse hadn’t met anyone else in
Lalo’s crew, and Jesse didn’t get the impression they accompanied Lalo often. Guy had balls of
steel—or trust issues. Maybe both.
Lalo returned with a number card on a steel stick for their order and two cups for the soda
fountain. On their way back from getting their drinks, a frazzled mom in jean shorts and a pizza-
stained top emerged from the party room and called out to the kids to come get more arcade
tokens. There was a mad rush, and Lalo and Jesse nearly got trampled. They managed to
sidestep the herd, but a little soda splashed Lalo’s shirt in the process.

Jesse tensed—what was he going to do if Lalo lost his shit at a bunch of kids? Maybe he could
distract him. He put his drink down on a nearby table and swiped a couple napkins. “Oh shit, my
bad!” He dabbed at the wet spot on Lalo’s shirt. “I’m such a clumsy asshole sometimes. I’m real
sorry—"

He broke off when Lalo put his hand over Jesse’s. Their eyes met, and Jesse swallowed. Lalo
raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t look upset. If anything, he seemed amused. He extracted the
napkins from Jesse’s grip and took over the clean-up. “Don’t worry about it.” He gestured in the
direction of the children. “Cute kids, yeah?”

Jesse pulled his hand away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah.”

They returned to their table. Jesse slouched in his seat and fidgeted with his straw. He still didn’t
understand why they were here.

“This was a good idea,” Lalo said. “I really needed to relax. Thanks.”

Technically speaking, Jesse invited Mr. White, and then Lalo overheard and invited himself, but
Jesse wasn’t about to point that out. “Uh, no problem.”

“You do this a lot?”

Jesse shrugged. “Yeah. Or, well—not so much anymore, I guess.”

“I love seeing kids having fun,” Lalo continued. “Takes me back to more innocent days. My tio
took me to the arcade. He was in prison for most of my childhood, but he made up for it when he
got out. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I was then, with pockets filled with tokens and
my tio by my side…” He trailed off, then shook his head and smiled fondly. “Forgive me. I’m
sentimental—I like to remember.”

Jesse gazed at the kids at play. “My last birthday party was here,” he said. “I mean, my last kid
party.” He remembered his mom and dad’s smiling faces, his baby brother toddling around and
screeching with delight as the big kids played. Even then, Jesse got in trouble a lot, but it was
kid stuff. His parents were sure he’d outgrow it. They still loved him then.

Jesse rubbed his eyes and sniffed, then straightened in his seat and forced a smile. “I remember
thinking it was cool as shit to get to drive a go-kart. Too bad real driving isn’t as fun.”

“Depends on the car, yeah? Mine are plenty fun to drive.”

Just then, the mom from earlier approached. She had a child in tow—her son, probably, since he
had the same hair. He wore a big button declaring him the birthday boy. “Excuse me,” she said
with a bright, nervous smile. “Now, don’t get mad at the staff—they told me you wanted to
remain anonymous, but I bullied them into telling me. Thank you so, so much for the extra
tokens—the kids are over the moon!”
Jesse furrowed his brow. Extra tokens?

“It’s my pleasure,” Lalo said. He turned to the little boy. “So you’re the birthday boy, then. Or
should I say birthday young man! How old are you?”

“Ten,” the boy said.

“You know, I saw you out on the track. You’re a great driver—you think you might be a
NASCAR racer someday?”

The boy’s eyes went wide. “I love NASCAR,” he said with great seriousness. “You really think I
could make it?”

“I always mean what I say.”

A huge smile spread across the boy’s face.

After a few more profuse thank yous, the mom and boy departed. Lalo caught Jesse’s eye and
grinned; with embarrassment, Jesse realized he’d been staring at him.

He coughed and turned his head. “You really bought tokens for all those kids? Why?”

His eyes twinkled. “I told you. I’m sentimental.”

“You aren’t what I expected you to be,” he said before he could stop himself.

Lalo’s grin turned sly. “And what did you expect? Someone like Tuco?”

Jesse’s heart thudded and his stomach twisted. Maybe this was all an all a plot to get his guard
down and get him to confess something. But he seemed so—well, nice. Jesse rubbed his face.
Christ, he was so fucking sick of being scared and miserable all the time, always waiting for the
other shoe to drop. He decided to take a risk. “Yeah, actually. I mean”—he looked around to
make sure no one was in earshot and lowered his voice—“Mr. White said you put a gun to his
head. You were gonna ice him right there, for revenge. And now you’re what, taking me go-
karting? I mean, like, thanks for not killing us and all, but color me confused.”

“I loved my cousin, but Tuco was—what’s the expression?” He snapped his fingers while he
thought. “Ah, I know. A loose cannon. It was only a matter of time before something like this
happened. And then your Mr. White explained about his cancer and offered his services, so I got
to thinking—what would killing this old man do? He’s dying of cancer. He wants to make me
some money before he goes—why not let him?”

“Yeah, but I’m not dying of cancer,” Jesse pointed out. “And I was there, too.”

Lalo cocked his head. “You know, most people in your place wouldn’t want to remind me of
that. In fact, I think they’d use this opportunity to pin as much blame on their partner as
possible.”

Shit, good point. Too late now. He crossed his arms and slouched again. “He’s my partner. I’m
not throwing him under the bus.”
Lalo regarded him for a long moment. “You aren’t what I expected, either,” he said at last.
“You’re loyal.” His mouth curved around the word as if he savored its taste.

Jesse wet his lips. “How’s your uncle?”

Lalo blinked. “What?”

“Your uncle. He was with Tuco in that shack—didn’t seem like a safe place for him.”

Lalo stared at him with an expression Jesse couldn’t read. Just when he thought he’d made a
horrible mistake, Lalo spoke again. “He’s as well as he can be. I’ve moved him to Mexico—I
should have done it ages ago.” His voice got softer. “You’re sweet to ask.”

The arrival of their food saved Jesse from having to respond—Lalo had gotten them a pepperoni
pizza and some breadsticks. Conversation died out as they ate. Jesse went for a refill of his
drink.

When he came back, Lalo pointed to his soda. “What’s that you’re drinking?”

“Uh, Mountain Dew.”

“Can I try some?”

“Sure.” Jesse handed him the drink and sat.

“It looks like antifreeze,” Lalo observed. He took a sip and his whole face puckered, his
moustache twitching. “¡Dios mío! That is sweet!” He handed the cup back to Jesse.

Jesse couldn’t help laughing. “Not much of a sweet tooth, huh?”

“Maybe not, but I enjoy acquiring new tastes.”

The way he said it made Jesse’s face feel hot for some reason. “So, uh, is that what we’re doing
here? Are you acquiring a taste for me?” As soon as it came out of his mouth, he wished he
could take it back. He sounded like he was trying to flirt with him. And he wasn’t—was he?

Lalo’s lips curled into a smile. “What a charming way to put it. Yes. I would like to know you
better.”

“Why?”

“Because I like to know the people I do business with.”

He guessed that made sense. “Well—what do you wanna know?”

Lalo shrugged. “Why don’t we start with what you do for fun. Besides go-karting.” He winked.

Why did this feel so much like a date? “I’m pretty good on a skateboard. I like video games…”
Christ, he sounded like a little kid. He tried for something a little more impressive. “I’m a blue
belt in jui ryo ki kung-fu. Oh, and I play the drums for my band.”

“No kidding! I play the guitar. Maybe we can jam sometime.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He tried to imagine Lalo playing alongside Badger and Skinny Pete. It made
his brain hurt. “So what about you? Or does this only go one way?”

Lalo held out his arms. “I’m an open book. Like I said, I play guitar. I enjoy horseback riding
and hiking—just being in nature. I’m a country boy at heart. I also do a lot of reading.” He
tapped his temple. “Keeps the mind sharp. The Classics are my favorite.”

“The Classic what?”

Lalo ran a hand over his mouth before answering. “You know—literature from the classical era
of Greece and Rome.”

“Wow, that’s some Hannibal Lecter shit right there,” Jesse said and immediately regretted it.
“Not that I’m implying that you’re like, a serial killer or anything…” Although shit, he probably
was. “I mean, I bet you’ve killed people but it’s different when it’s business, right? Not as
creepy.” Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Maybe Lalo would do him a favor and shoot him in the head.

No such luck. Lalo threw his head back and laughed. “You’re very funny, Jesse. I like you.”

That was not the response he expected. “Really?” He hated how fluttery his voice sounded.

“Yes, really. Why do you sound so skeptical?”

Jesse slouched in his chair and crossed his arms. “Dunno. People usually don’t.”

Lalo regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “Did you know that the ancient Greeks had no
concept of the color blue?”

Jesse’s brow furrowed at the change in subject. “Huh. That’s weird.”

“It’s true. In the Odyssey, Homer writes of the wine-dark sea. Poetic, but not quite right.” Lalo
met his gaze directly. “He was the first great author of the Western world, but he’d have no
words to describe the color of your eyes.”

Holy fucking shit. They were flirting. But no, that was crazy—he must be getting something
wrong, as usual. He flushed—he bet his face was bright fucking red. “It’s hot in here,” he
mumbled, hoping to explain his blush away.

Lalo took a long sip of his drink. Jesse caught himself staring at the way his lips wrapped around
the straw. “I have another question for you.”

“Shoot.” Anything to change the subject.

“Why do you call him Mr. White?”

His name was like ice water dumped over his head. He sat up a little straighter and cleared his
throat. “He’s my science teacher. Or, was my science teacher. In high school.”

Lalo’s eyebrows shot up. “Your teacher? But he stayed in contact with you? Don’t tell me you
were a teacher’s pet.”

Jesse scowled. “No. He flunked me, actually.”

“Then how did you connect again?”

Shit. Probably not a good idea to tell him the real story. “He came to me for weed. You know,
because of his chemo and shit. Then he saw my cook set-up and, well, the rest is history.” He
suppressed a cringe—what a corny thing to say.

"Huh," was all Lalo said.

Jesse wished he hadn’t brought Mr. White up. He was probably really pissed that he and Lalo
were hanging out—but Jesse had invited him, hadn’t he?

Whatever. He didn’t feel like thinking about Mr. White right now. “Yo, you want to hit the
arcade?”

Lalo smiled again. He was always smiling. “Whatever you want.”

Jesse wondered if he meant that.

***
The next week, they went miniature golfing. The week after that, a movie.

There wasn’t really any way to pretend this was still some getting-to-know-the-people-you-do-
business-with thing. Lalo sure as shit wasn’t taking Mr. White mini golfing. Jesse could pretend
that they were just dudes hanging out, but that wasn’t it, either. He was pretty sure they were…
dating.

Not that Lalo ever tried anything. He’d pick him up at his house, take him out, pay for
everything, and then drop him back home, 9pm at the latest. Jesse felt like one of those ‘50s girls
in a poodle skirt, being escorted to the sock-hop or whatever. Lalo even had one of those classic
convertibles, perfect for necking at make-out point.

Except it never got that far. Jesse didn’t know how to feel about it. On the one hand, he wasn’t
into dudes. Like, of course he’d thought about it—he was pretty sure every guy had gay
thoughts sometimes but wouldn’t admit it. And he’d been into ass play ever since he was
nineteen, when he had a girlfriend convince him to let her put her finger in his ass while she was
blowing him—that shit changed his life. He had a whole drawer in his room devoted to butt
toys. So this wasn’t the first time he wondered what a real cock might feel like.

And sure, Lalo was older, but Jesse liked older. Shit, Wendy probably had a few years on Lalo,
although it was hard to say with all the meth damage.

Mr. White would flip his shit if he ever found out, but Mr. White didn't seem to care very much
about what he did outside the lab. He'd asked Jesse about the go-karting and tried to talk him
into pulling some weird mind games with Lalo, but he tuned him out. Lalo had been great to
them so far. Jesse didn't have to worry about security or distribution anymore. He figured if he
was really that mad about Tuco, he'd have killed Jesse, at least, even if he decided he needed Mr.
White. But he hadn't, and not only that, but he got them this sick lab that Jesse knew Mr. White
loved. Lalo was a drug dealer, but so were they, so what?

And Lalo liked him. He liked him a lot.

He should grow some balls and actually ask him what he wanted, but what the fuck was he
supposed to say? Yo that mini golf game was dope—by the way, are you trying to fuck me? If he
was wrong, Lalo might shoot him in the face. He guessed he’d just have to wait for Lalo to make
the first move, except who knew how long that would take?

On their fourth “date,” Lalo took him out to dinner at old-fashioned hamburger joint. They both
got milkshakes, and Lalo wiped the corner of Jesse’s mouth with a napkin—definitely not a
business or friends thing. Jesse felt like he was going crazy. He had to know. When Lalo pulled
into his driveway, he was suddenly hit by the perfect, risk-free way to find out.

“So would you like to, you know, come in?” he asked. He was real proud of himself for thinking
of it—a clear signal he was down, but he could also play it off as if he were just inviting him to
hang.

In response, Lalo turned off the ignition and gave him one of those smiles of his. “I thought
you’d never ask.”

Jesse heart pounded as he led Lalo to the front door. Lalo stood behind him, so close Jesse could
feel the heat of his breath on the back of his neck. His hands shook a little as he unlocked the
door. He wondered if Lalo noticed.

“So, uh, you wanna beer?” Jesse asked as soon as they were inside.

“That would be nice.”

Jesse headed for the kitchen and took a few deep breaths before grabbing two beers from the
fridge. When he returned to the living room, he found Lalo looking around, his hands in his
pockets.

“Nice place,” he said.

“Thanks.” He’d been trying to keep things picked up and clean. All a part of sober living. Too
bad all of his furniture looked like it belonged in a college dorm.

Jesse handed Lalo his beer. Their fingers brushed. Jesse cleared his throat and gestured. “Have a
seat.”

Lalo took the couch. Jesse sat on the saucer chair. Their conversation usually flowed pretty
freely, but they were both quiet as they drank their beers. Was Lalo waiting for him to make a
move? Well, inviting him in was the move. Ball was in his court now.

Eventually, Lalo set his half-drunk beer aside. “Come here,” he said, his voice as dark and soft
as black velvet.

Jesse swallowed. Was he sure he wanted to do this? Too late now. He put his beer down and
joined Lalo on the couch. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure Lalo could hear it.

Lalo laid a gentle hand on the back of his neck, brushing his thumb over Jesse’s cheek, and
leaned in—not kissing him yet, but close enough that he could. They stayed like that for what
seemed like forever, their breath mingling. Jesse was already half hard and they hadn’t even
done anything yet.
Jesse was the one to close the gap, pressing his lips to Lalo’s. His moustache felt weird—not
bad, just weird. Their first few kisses were almost chaste—close-mouthed and shallow—until
Jesse felt the gentle pressure of Lalo’s tongue, asking permission. He parted his lips and let Lalo
inside.

Things quickly grew heated after that. Jesse ended up on his back with Lalo on top of him,
kissing him over and over again until he broke off at last to move onto his neck. Jesse gasped,
his legs falling open to let Lalo settle between them. He thrust upward, panting, a little
embarrassed to be such a whimpering mess but mostly too horny to care. Christ, he could feel
Lalo’s bulge…

Lalo pressed his lips to Jesse’s ear. “I want to take you to bed.”

Jesse’s voice had left him, so he just nodded vigorously and kissed Lalo again.

They got unsteadily to their feet. Lalo’s face was flushed, his chest heaving—nice to know Jesse
wasn’t the only one falling apart.

Jesse took him by the hand and led him upstairs. As soon as they were in the bedroom, Lalo
pressed him up against the wall and kissed him again, tugging at his hoodie. Jesse stripped it off
and threw it aside, and tossed his beanie as well. With shaking fingers, he fumbled with the
buttons on Lalo’s paisley button-down. Lalo ended up having to help, and soon he was bare-
chested. Lalo tugged Jesse’s T-shirt over his head, leaving him bare-chested, too.

They paused to catch their breaths. Lalo wasn’t jacked, exactly, but his shoulders were broader
than Jesse’s. Definitely a man, and it made Jesse feel weird, both turned on and kind of jealous.
He felt like such a scrawny kid in comparison.

Meanwhile, Lalo was taking in Jesse as well. He ran his hand over Jesse’s pecs, his fingers
ghosting over a nipple in a way that sent shivers up his spine. “There you are,” Lalo murmured
with a chuckle.

Jesse laughed a little too, mostly out of nerves. “What do you mean?”

“I can never see even the outline of your body under all those baggy clothes you wear. You have
no idea how crazy that made me.” He traced his tattoo. “What does this mean?”

It was really hard to concentrate on talking. “Uh, it’s a scorpion. S’posed to be good for
protection. That’s why the tattoo artist said, anyway.”

Lalo pulled Jesse into his arms. “Do you need protecting, corazóncito?”

All of a sudden, tears sprang in his eyes. What the fuck? He wanted to say it didn’t mean
anything, he just got it because it looked cool, he didn’t need to be taken care of, he wasn’t some
weak-ass bitch, but Lalo’s arms were so strong around him, and yeah it would be nice to let
down his guard for a single fucking minute. He sniffed. Shit, he was going to lose his boner at
this rate.

But then Lalo’s lips were on his again, stoking the fire in him. Jesse’s eyes fluttered shut,
causing the tears to spill over, but Lalo kissed them away, and they were soon forgotten.
Lalo led Jesse over to the bed and gave him a gentle push until he sat. He dropped to his knees
in front of him and took off Jesse’s shoes and socks, one at a time, placing a kiss on each foot
once it was bare. Next, he undid Jesse’s fly—a couple of tugs and his jeans were on the floor,
leaving Jesse shivering in his boxers—Jesse didn’t know if it was because he was cold or
nervous or both.

Lalo met his gaze as he drew Jesse’s boxers down, and then he took Jesse’s cock in his mouth.

Christ! He sucked in a breath—it felt so fucking good. He didn’t know what to do with his
hands; he ended up resting them on Lalo’s shoulders as devoured him. It didn’t take long until
Jesse was right at the edge.

“Lalo,” he gasped, tugging at his shoulders. “Shit! Stop—”

Lalo pulled off and was beside him in an instant. “Everything okay?”

Jesse laughed a little. “Yeah, but I’m about to bust—can we slow down?”

“Of course.” Lalo ran his hands up and down his sides soothingly, then encouraged him to lie
down. Once they were side by side, Lalo drew him into his arms again. They lay there together,
catching their breaths.

“Have you ever been with a man?” Lalo asked after a while.

He shook his head.

“Didn’t think so.” He placed a gentle kiss on his temple. “We don’t have to do anything you
don’t want—”

“I want you to fuck me,” Jesse said in a rush.

Lalo brushed his cheek. “It might be better to take things slow.”

Jesse sat up. The gentleness was nice and all, but the last thing he wanted was for Lalo to think
he was too fragile to fuck. “Look, you’re the first guy I’ve been with, but I’ve had stuff in my
ass before.”

Lalo’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Really. It’s not gay to like your ass played with.” Jesse hesitated. “Well, I mean, except when it
is, I guess.”

Lalo put his hands over his face, and his shoulders started shaking—he was laughing. Jesse
started laughing, too—harder than he had in a long time.

After they composed themselves, Lalo sat up. “So I assume you have..?”

“Lube? Condoms?” Jesse filled in for him. “Yeah, in the dresser over there. Last drawer down is
the sex drawer.”

“You have a sex drawer?”

Jesse gave him a little shove. “You complaining?”

“Definitely not.”

Lalo crossed the room, shirtless but still in his jeans. He crouched down and started rummaging
through the drawer. Jesse flushed a little, thinking about everything Lalo would find there—lube
and condoms, but also his assortment of buttplugs and dildos.

Lalo pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube—and also his biggest dildo, a huge blue thing
Jesse nicknames Big Bertha. Lalo looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised. “You use this?”

Jesse flushed harder and rolled his eyes. “Nah, I just keep it around for decoration—c’mon, man,
what do you think?”

Lalo just nodded thoughtfully and put it away, then returned to the bed. Jesse sat on the edge and
put his hands on the back of Lalo’s thighs. Time to prove to him that he was down to fuck for
real. When he got Lalo positioned with his crotch right in his face, he undid Lalo’s belt buckle
and whipped his belt off, then unzipped his fly and reached in.

Fuck. It was perfect—long and girthy with a fat head, already wet with precome. He gave it an
experimental lick. A lot saltier than girl taste, but he could get definitely get used to it.

Lalo shuddered and moaned as Jesse licked him—he wasn’t quite ready to put the whole thing in
his mouth, and besides, he had other, better plans for it.

Between the two of them, they got Lalo the rest of the way undressed. Jesse did some quick
calculations—on his knees would probably work best to start, so he turned over and stuck his ass
in the air, his head resting on his crossed arms. “Lube me up?”

Lalo sucked in a breath and muttered something in Spanish under his breath. He caressed Jesse’s
ass, but instead of reaching for the bottle of lube, he spread Jesse’s cheeks and licked him.

Jesse buried his face in his arms to muffle his surprised moan. Oh fuck yeah—he could usually
convince girls to finger him, and a few had used a strap-on, but no one had ever wanted to do
this to him before.

Lalo was a fucking master at eating ass, it turned out. Jesse gasped and writhed, the most
embarrassing little whimpers escaping him but he couldn’t bring himself to care because it felt
so good.

But he didn't want it to end yet. “Enough,” he managed to gasp. “I want you fuck me.”

Lalo had the nerve to chuckle. “Whatever you say.”

The heat behind him disappeared; Jesse heard the rustle of a condom wrapper, the click of the
bottle being open. A moment later, a finger smeared slick over his hole, gently circling it before
pressing in—

—but Jesse had had enough of gentleness for tonight. “I’m ready. Fuck me.”

Lalo hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Jesse groaned in frustration. “If you don’t put your dick in me now, I’m going to lose my
fucking mind. Please, Lalo. I can take it. Get in me, now.”

“Okay, okay,” Lalo laughed. Jesse heard the bottle being opened again, and then slick sounds—
Lalo must be lubing himself up, he realized, and a spike of arousal surged through him. He
started stroking his own dick, only to have his hand slapped away.

“Wait for me,” Lalo growled, and fuck that was hot. Jesse grabbed onto the sheets to keep his
hands busy as Lalo pressed the head of his cock against his hole. He forced himself to relax as
Lalo breached him.

It hurt at first—it always did—but he knew how to adjust himself, how to welcome Lalo’s dick
inside him, and soon the pain melted away. His mind went blissfully blank as pleasure
thrummed through him. He felt so wonderfully, gloriously, full. When he reached for his cock
this time, Lalo didn’t push his hand away.

But just when his pleasure started to reach its peak, it stopped. Jesse nearly screamed in
frustration. He looked over his shoulder. “Yo, what gives?”

“Wanted to check in,” Lalo said, panting. “You’re so quiet.”

That was kind of sweet. “I’m good. Really, really good, and really fucking close, so if you could
just—” He pushed himself up on his hands and knees and started to fuck himself.

Lalo let out a string of passionate Spanish and then thrust into him, hard. Jesse yelped.

“You like that?” Lalo growled.

“Fuck, yeah,” Jesse moaned.

Lalo leaned over his back until his mouth was right by his ear. “Then I want to hear you.” He
punctuated his words with another hard thrust.

Jesse tended to be quiet in bed, but if Lalo wanted loud, he could definitely accommodate him.
He let out a moan and pushed back to meet Lalo’s thrusts. Ever time he rammed home, Jesse’s
moans grew louder as Lalo brought him closer and closer to climax, faster and faster, until it
finally overwhelmed him and he screamed his release.

He almost collapsed, but Lalo looped a hand around his waist and held him up as he furiously
chased his own orgasm, letting out a loud moan of his own as he found it, pulsing inside him.

Jesse must have blacked out, because the next thing he knew, Lalo had a warm washcloth
between his legs, tenderly cleaning him. “There he is,” Lalo said with a smile as Jesse blinked
up at him. “I was starting to worry.”

Jesse smiled back. “That was—wow. Just—wow.”

Lalo chuckled and put the cloth aside. “Yes. Wow.” He kissed him sweetly.

By the time he pulled away, Jesse’s brain had unfortunately woken up. “Um, so was this like—a
one-time thing?”
 “Do you want it to be?”

Jesse hesitated, then shook his head. “But what does that make us? Are we, like—dating?”

Lalo took a minute to answer. “I don’t think we need to put a label on it,” he said at last. “It’s a
little complicated for a man in my position. And I won’t be in Albuquerque forever.”

“Oh.” Jesse’s stomach felt hollow. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

Lalo gave him a long, tender kiss. “Don’t worry about it. My business here isn’t done yet.” He
ran a hand over his hair. “Ay mi tesorito—me divertiré contigo, y me harás ganar mucho
dinero.*”

Jesse cocked his head. He caught dinero, but not much else. “What does that mean?”

“I said you are my little treasure, worth more than all the money in the world.”

Jesse groaned. “That’s so corny.” But it still felt nice to hear. He bit his lip. “Can you, um…” He
trailed off, too embarrassed to continue.

“Can I what?” Lalo prompted.

“Can you stay the night?” Christ, he sounded so needy, especially after Lalo had made it pretty
clear this wasn’t a relationship. But he was so lonely—more lonely than he had realized—and
maybe having Lalo here would keep the nightmares away, at least for a night.

“Anything for mi tesorito.” He kissed him again and then curled up behind him. “Get some
sleep. I’ll be right here.”

Jesse let out a bone-deep sigh and shut his eyes. As he drifted away, though, he had one last
thought before sleep claimed him:

If Mr. White finds out about this, he’s going to fucking kill me.

Chapter End Notes

* Oh my little treasure—I'll have fun with you, and you'll make me a lot of money (Shout
out to riotgrrlhole for help with the Spanish!)

Well THAT'S a little ominous! I said this isn't plot heavy, but I had to put a little bit of a
plot in there. Don't worry, though - Jesse will be fine. The third person in this love triangle
should be worried, though...

And the ancient Greeks not having a word for blue sounds like made-up internet fact, but
it's actually true! I first heard about it on the NPR science program Radiolab in their
episode about color (the section on blue is at the 46 minute mark). It wasn't just the ancient
Greeks either, and the reason why is fascinating.
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

Hey, I made a deadline for once! This chapter is entirely from Walt's point of view, so I'm
sure I don't have to tell you it gets a little gross lol. And please remember not to think too
hard about the timeline.

The song Jesse sings along to is "Pussy Monster," by Lil Wayne

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jesse wasn’t answering his phone.

Typical. Walt snapped his phone shut in annoyance. He’d tried calling three times that morning
with no luck. Their next cook was tomorrow, and they really needed to talk beforehand. He
needed to know what Lalo was up to.

Or at least, he needed confirmation about what Lalo was up to, because he knew what he was
doing—trying to turn Jesse against him. It was the only explanation for his bizarre interest in
Jesse. First the go-karts, and apparently several visits after that, like he was courting him.

But Lalo had another thing coming if he thought he could get in between them. Once Walt
discerned his motive, he explained the situation to Jesse—and how they could turn it to their
advantage. Jesse would pretend to go along with it, and then report back to Walt once Lalo
started to persuade Jesse to his side. Once they figured out how Lalo planned to get rid of him,
they could work on a plan to get the upper hand.

This was all assuming Jesse wouldn’t blow his cover—a big assumption. Jesse seemed to barely
pay attention when Walt went over the plan. Without Walt, Jesse would have no doubt been
seduced by Lalo’s overtures of friendship. He was too young to understand that monsters like
Lalo could use kindness to serve their own ends.

After the fourth call, Walt started to get worried. Maybe Jesse wasn’t just being irresponsible
about answering the phone. What if he was using again? It didn’t seem likely—he looked
healthy last he saw him. Seemed unusually upbeat, in fact. Walt was probably overreacting, but
his chest felt uncomfortably tight as he drove to Jesse's house to check on him.

Jesse’s car was in the driveway, so he was home. Unless he’d been kidnapped, but he was
getting ahead of himself. Walt approached the door and knocked, and then knocked again. No
answer. The tightness in his chest grew worse. What if he was back on drugs, after all? What if
he’d overdosed?

Just when Walt was considering breaking a window to get in, Jesse finally answered the door,
yawning. He was dressed in fluffy pajama pants and a ratty oversized gray hoody, and his hair
stood up at odd angles. Bed head, Skyler called it when Walt Jr. stumbled out of his room in the
morning. For a brief moment, Walt wondered if he was high or hungover, but no, his blue eyes
were clear except for a little crust that had gathered at the corners, which he rubbed away as he
yawned again.

The tightness in Walt’s chest dissolved, giving way to tenderness. Not in danger, not on drugs—
just sleepy. He was sweet when he was sleepy. Walt fought the urge to smooth down his unruly
hair.

But Jesse’s languor soon morphed into surliness. “Yo, what the fuck? You can’t just show up
here!”

So much for tenderness. “And why not?” Walt snapped back.

“Because it’s rude as fuck?”

“Then perhaps you should answer your phone. I’ve been calling all morning.”

Jesse looked surprised at that. He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his hoody. “Oh. Battery’s
dead. Sorry about that.” He replaced the phone and shrugged. “So what’s the big emergency?”

“No emergency. We just need to talk before our next cook.” He gestured inside. “May I—?”

Jesse heaved an enormous sigh. “Fine, I guess. Since you’re here.”

Once he stepped inside, Walt surveyed the house. It wasn’t a total wreck, but still messy. A large
bowl sat on the coffee table, empty but for a few popcorn kernels. Beside it were two glasses
containing the watered-down remnants of soda. Several boxes of movie theater candy lay open
on the table, even though there was a garbage basket right there. When Walter peaked inside, he
saw a used condom—thus explaining Jesse’s sudden reluctance to having him drop in.
He scowled. So Jesse had found another little girlfriend, had he? He hoped this one wasn’t as
much trouble as Jane, but maybe it was a good sign he was moving on. Just as long as he didn’t
get too serious about whoever it was.

“So,” Jesse said. “What do you want to talk about?”

Might as well get right to it. “Lalo. I assume he’s still contacting you?”

Jesse looked away and rubbed his neck. “Uh, yeah.”

“And? Has he mentioned me yet?”

“No.”

Odd. It had been quite some time since the go-karts. The man was patient—Walt would give him
that. “Well, keep him on the hook. Maybe drop some hints that you’d be willing to betray me,
and see what he says.”

“Sure, Mr. White. Whatever.” He yawned again. “Sorry. Didn’t sleep much last night.”

Walt took another glance at the mess and raised his eyebrows. “Apparently not. So—who’s the
young lady?” He tried to keep his tone friendly, but a little bit of disapproval crept in despite his
best efforts.

“Nobody,” Jesse said quickly, but his blush betrayed him.

Walt pressed his lips together—falling in love again, so soon? A lecture would get him nowhere,
but he could still express his concerns. He put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Just—be careful, all
right? I don’t want to see you hurt again. And consider that your life has a lot of…
complications right now. You wouldn’t want to put her in danger.”

Jesse snorted. “That’s not an issue. Trust me.”

Walt gave his shoulder one more squeeze before releasing him. “All right, then. I’ll see you
tomorrow.”

“Sure, Mr. White.” Was it his imagination, or did Jesse look a little guilty? Maybe he was
thinking over his point about putting his new paramour in danger. Hopefully this new romance
would fizzle out soon. Walt would work on him a little more tomorrow, to give him a little
nudge in the right direction. Jesse didn’t need a new girl.

All he needed was him.

***

The cook started out uneventful. Lalo didn’t show up until they were nearly finished. Walt was
tallying the yield while Jesse cleaned up when Lalo appeared in the door. Jesse was listening to
music with headphones, apparently loud enough that he didn’t hear the door open, or Lalo’s
footsteps on the stair.

“So!” Lalo said as he reached Walt. “How’d we do today?”

Walt finished his notation. “See for yourself.”

Lalo examined the numbers. “Very nice, Walter!” He gave him a slap on the back, hard enough
that it sent him into a coughing fit.

“Sorry about that,” Lalo said, sounding not the least bit apologetic. Christ, the man was
obnoxious—and from the shit-eating grin he flashed at him, he appeared to be aware of the fact.
“You okay? The cancer hasn’t come back, has it?”

Walt waved off his faux concern. “I’m fine.”

“You know, when we first met, I was anxious for you to die, but considering how well things are
going, I hope that you stick around a little longer.” He indicated Jesse with nod. “You think he
could handle a cook on his own? In case your health gets worse again, I mean.”

And there it was, just as Walt predicted. Any day now, he’d start whispering in Jesse’s ear, trying
to get him to turn on him. Little did he know how deep their bond was—but that was for the
best. Let him think his little sabotage plan had a chance of working. “No. Jesse is an assistant,
not a chemist. He’s hopeless without me.”

Lalo raised his eyebrows, looking skeptical, but whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself.

The conversation petered out as Lalo and Walt watched Jesse clean the vats. His music was loud
enough that even from across the room, Walt could hear the muffled beats and mumbled words
of what passed for music nowadays, and he was enthusiastically singing along. Or rapping was
more accurate, he supposed. Walt didn’t understand the appeal. What ever happened to melodies
and lyrics that weren’t all curse words? The Beatles. Now there was real music.

“He’s sweet,” Lalo said.

Walt suppressed a scowl. Did the man ever shut up for more than five minutes? “Don’t let him
fool you. He’s no innocent.”

“No, man, I mean how he tastes. Must be that soda he drinks—you know, that neon green shit?
What’s it called, Mountain Mist?”

“Mountain Dew,” Walt corrected. His stomach clenched. What did he mean by how he tastes?

Lalo snapped his fingers and pointed at Walt. “That’s the one! He let me taste his drink when we
went go-carting. You should have come—it was fun!”

He meant the soda, then. Probably a translation error. "In English, we refer to a person's taste,
not how he how tastes. As in, 'Jesse's taste in music could use improvement.'" He chuckled.

Lalo didn't chuckle with him, but he did smile. "Thanks for the tip," he said. "It can be easy to be
misunderstood."

Walt relaxed a little. “My son also drinks that Mountain Dew stuff. Much too cloying for me.
Never had much of a sweet tooth myself.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Lalo scratched his neck. “For me, I have to be in the right mood. But
when I want something sweet, I want it sweet, you know? Give-me-cavities kind of sweet. I
want the taste to linger on my tongue.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Jesse’s singing got louder—he had apparently gotten to
an especially rousing part of his song.

Pussy pussy pussy pussy pussy!

I gotta, I gotta, I gotta, I gotta
I got a sweet tooth, I got a sweet tooth
Now can I eat you? Can I eat you?

He danced for a couple seconds, complete with a little spin, before he started scrubbing again.

Walt rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe what kids listen to nowadays. So vulgar.”

“I don’t know, it’s kinda catchy.” Lalo’s voice dropped as he leaned in, a conspiratorial twinkle
in his eyes. “He’s quiet, too. Surprising, no? I wouldn’t have guessed it, but it’s true. More
breathy little sighs than moans. Don’t get me wrong—he can get loud too. Just takes a little extra
effort.”

Walt froze. There was no way to misunderstand that. All at once, several pieces fell into place.
Jesse’s freak out when Walt dropped in unexpectedly. The condom in the trash. That goddamn
blush when Walt pressed him about it. It hadn’t been a “young lady” after all. Walt knew that
Lalo would try to seduce Jesse over to his side. He just hadn’t expected it to be so literal.

Lalo winked. “See you later, Walter.”

Walt hated how he said his name—he always hit the er extra hard, like the stuttering er of some
sniveling Poindexter. Walt chalked it up to his accent before, but there was no mistaking the
mockery now. His fist clenched so tight that the pencil in his hand snapped in two. He let the
two ends clatter on the floor.

Across the room, Lalo approached Jesse and tapped him on the shoulder. Any of Walt’s
skepticism about their liaison vanished when he saw the expression on Jesse’s face—his goofy
grin, his dopey eyes. Lalo said something to him, and Jesse laughed—no, not laughed. He
giggled. Walt clenched his hands again to stop them from shaking.

At last, Lalo departed, leaving him and Jesse alone. Walt needed to be strategic about this—the
last thing he wanted to do was drive him even more into Lalo’s arms. But then he got another
look at Jesse’s starry expression, and something in him snapped as sharply as his pencil had
earlier.

“You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

The stars in Jesse’s eyes disappeared. He started to stammer some denial, but Walt cut him off.
“Unbelievable—this is incredibly stupid, even for you. And what, you’re gay now?”

Jesse scowled. “It’s the twenty-first century, bitch! Haven’t you ever heard of being bicurious?”
“Bi what?” Walt started, but then waved the question away. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.
What matters is that—that monster is doing exactly what I told you he would. He’s using you to
attack me!”

Jesse threw open his arms in an aggressive shrug. “Maybe it isn’t about you—did you ever think
of that? We don’t talk about you at all.”

Walt scoffed. “Oh, so I suppose he just fell for your charms? Come on, Jesse. Surely you can’t
believe that.”

“And why not? Is it really so hard to believe that he might, you know—like me?”

“Frankly? Yes. There is no way that his interest in you is sincere.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Jesse’s eyes did that thing they always did when he was hurt,
growing wide and wet like a puppy that had been kicked. But the hurt morphed into anger, as it
so often did with him. “Oh, of course—I must be a real moron to think that anyone would ever
like a worthless junkie loser like me. Is that it?”

Walt pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t say that. You have many fine qualities.”

“Such as?”

Walt’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“You just said I have ‘many fine qualities.’ Such as what?”

“Well, you’re…” Walt struggled for a moment, but found himself tongue-tied.

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and you’re the one who really cares about me. Sure. Right.” He
stomped over to the lockers to get changed, his back very pointedly turned to Walt.

Walt followed him. “You can’t just put me on the spot like that! You’re—” He was cut off by the
high-pitched zing of a zipper being pulled down too fast. Jesse shrugged out of the yellow suit
and let it fall to the floor.

Walt's heart stuttered. It wasn’t as if this were the first time Walt had seen Jesse unclothed, but
something had changed. There was a faint bruise on his neck that Walt had missed before, the
same size and shape as a mouth. A hickey. An image came to him—Jesse, naked, spread out on
his couch, with Lalo on top of him, his mouth on his neck like some vampire, sucking as Jesse
moaned—

Fury pulsed in him—and something else. He swallowed it down. “You’re loyal,” he said as
evenly as he could. “And you’re a good student when you put your mind to it.”

Jesse flashed him a glare over his shoulder. “Funny, that sounds more like you’re complimenting
yourself. Do you ever think about anyone else?”

The fury in him flared again. “All I do is think about other people! My wife, my children—and
you, too, Jesse.” He sucked in a deep breath through his nose before speaking again, more
evenly this time. “Look, let’s leave me out of it, then. What do you think a man like Lalo sees in
you, even beyond all of”—he gestured around the lab—“this. You’re half his age. You can’t
possibly have anything in common.”

Jesse got his pants out of the locker and sat to pull them on. “We like go-karts, and kids, and
cars. And he plays music, like me.”

“Since when do you play music?”

“Since forever? I play the drums—you know, in my band?”

Walt blinked at him. “You’re in a band?”

Jesse rolled his eyes so hard Walt expected them to fall out of his head. He zipped up his pants
and then reached for his shirt. Walt felt a pang of something like disappointment as his skin
disappeared.

Walt shook himself out of it. “Of course he’s going to pretend to have the same interests. Even if
we pretend he’s not using you to get to me—which he is—then it’s because he wants you for
something else—and it’s not racing go-karts or playing the drums, Jesse.”

Jesse turned around at last and met Walt’s gaze head-on. “No need to be coy, Mr. White. You can
say it. He wants me for sex. That’s what you’re getting at, right?”

To Walt’s horror, he felt his face flush. Once again, speech failed him.

“Did it occur to you that maybe I’m the one who’s using him? Huh? I’m not some delicate virgin
—I’m a guy, too. And guess what—the dick? Is incredible.” He held two fingers an impressive
distance apart. “It’s this big—no joke. And he knows exactly how to use it.”

More images flashed in his mind. Jesse’s legs spread, Lalo between them, pushing them open
even wider as he slid his huge—

He shook his head violently to dislodge the thought. It only half worked.

Jesse pulled out his last article of clothing—one of his ridiculously large hoodies—and shrugged
it on, his body now completely obscured. “Thanks for your concern and all, Mr. White, but I’m
doing just fine.” He slammed the locker shut. “As a matter of fact, we’ve got a date tonight. And
we sure as shit won’t be thinking about you.”

With that, he stormed up the stairs and was gone.

Walt just stood there for a long time, his mind whirling. When he at last came back to himself,
he mechanically got dressed. He barely remembered the drive home.

***

Once he was back at his sad little bachelor pad, he poured himself a stiff drink, and then another,
and another. He tried to keep his mind off of what Lalo might be doing to Jesse at this very
moment. It should disgust him, and it did. But that wasn’t all—not by far.

Release. That’s what he needed.

 He logged onto to the internet and navigated to his usual porn site, clicking through to all his
favorite scenarios. But the busty ladies did nothing for him tonight. At last, he gave over to the
temptation and typed “gay porn” into the browser.

It turned out there were a lot of videos of guys who looked just like Jesse. Twinks, they were
called. And they were often fucked by men who looked a lot like…well, him. He found one
video of a boy with eyes the exact same shade of blue as Jesse’s. Fuck me harder, Daddy! he
moaned, and Daddy obliged.

That did it for him. With a shudder, Walt came in his hand.

It should have brought him relief, but all his porn watching had done was give him new
scenarios to imagine. He tried to tell himself it was sick…but Jesse had made it more than clear
that he was eager for it. His mind lingered on opportunities he had missed, only because he
never knew having him like that was an option.

Walt remembered holding Jesse in his arms at the trap house, how sweet he was in his sorrow.
He imagined Jesse surrendering to him not from pain, but from pleasure. I loved her more than
anything morphed into I love you more anything in his mind. He could picture it—Jesse in his
arms, flushed and out of breath. He’d give him one of his dopey smiles—it had been a long time
since he’d seen one of those directed at him—and sigh and snuggle in. No one’s ever made me
feel that way, Mr. White…

Walt paused his fantasy. Would he want Jesse to still call him Mr. White? He’d have to put a pin
in that.

He would never abandon Skyler or the children, of course. Their family would be reunited--
already, Skyler's resolve was weakening. But why couldn’t he have Jesse, too? Skyler would
never fully embrace Heisenberg—the best she would do was tolerate him. But Jesse had been
there at Heisenberg’s birth. He’d seen the worst, and he was still with him.

Or at least, he was for now. Walt was sure he could win him back, but first, he had to take care
of Lalo—permanently.

Chapter End Notes

Oh, Walt. Good luck with that.

Next chapter we'll be back with Lalo and Jesse for some tenderness and just a light touch of
gaslighting. And I'm cackling right now because I just finished plotting a twist (I said no
plot, but I lied). It's pretty wild! I'm having such a great time with this fic - thanks for all the
encouragement! Hope you enjoyed, and let me know what you think!
 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes

Like I said, don't think too hard about this timeline. Let's just assume that things similar to
what happened in canon happen in this timeline, but the timing of the events might be
different.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jesse didn’t tell Lalo right away; it would ruin dinner. Lalo was cooking for him tonight. He
brought his own cookware since Jesse mostly lived off take out and things he could microwave.
When Lalo found out, Jesse thought he was going to die of a heart attack right there. Oh no no
no, mi tesorito must eat better than that.

Tesorito—little treasure. That’s what Lalo called him. It was so over-the-top corny, but Jesse’s
stomach fluttered a little every time he said it. And that’s exactly how Lalo always treated him—
like he was precious. Valuable. Adored. It should probably, like, offend his male ego or
whatever, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was so fucking nice to have someone not treat
him their personal punching bag.

He really hoped Lalo wouldn't be mad about Mr. White finding out. It was only a matter of time
before he figured it out, really—Mr. White was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.
But it was still going to make things complicated, and it was all Jesse’s fault; Mr. White never
would have put two and two together if Jesse had cleaned up after their movie night and didn’t
make ga-ga eyes at Lalo in the lab. Christ, he was stupid. Just the thought of Lalo looking
disappointed made him want to curl up into a ball.
So he waited until after dinner to say anything. Lalo had made tacos. “Yo, those were bomb,” he
said after his last bite.

Lalo tilted his head. “Bomb?”

Right. He was old. “Means good.”

“Ah. You’re welcome.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Now, are you going to tell me
what’s on your mind?”

Jesse rubbed his neck. “Am I that obvious?”

A little smile played on his lips. “I’m very good at reading people.”

Jesse sighed. “Mr. White knows about us. He showed up at my house the other day and saw that
I’d had someone over, and then at the lab, I guess I was looking at you funny because he put it
together. I feel like he can read my mind sometimes,” he mumbled. His shoulders slumped. “I’m
sorry. I know you wanted to keep it on the down low, and I fucked it up already.”

Lalo reached across the table and took his hand. “Jesse. You didn’t fuck anything up. Besides,
who cares if he knows?”

“You don’t understand—he completely freaked out. And Mr. White doesn’t let things go. Ever.”

Lalo gave Jesse’s hand one more squeeze before standing and clearing their plates. “And what
do you think he’ll do about it?” he asked over his shoulder as he took the dishes to the sink.

“Shit, I don’t know. Something bad, maybe.” Jesse fidgeted with his napkin, tearing off little
pieces.

Lalo laughed. “You think I can’t handle him? Don’t worry about it. I know his type.”

He thought about the ricin. Should he tell Lalo about it? But then that would bring up the whole
Tuco disaster—not a subject he wanted to remind him of. And killing Lalo would tank the deal
they had with the cartel. Mr. White wouldn’t risk it—would he? His napkin was completely
shredded now; he piled the bits together like a little mound of snow.

“Hey,” Lalo said, gesturing with his head. “Come here—I wash, you dry.”

Jesse did as he was told. It was oddly domestic. Kinda nice.

“So, he’s that jealous, eh?” Lalo said.

Jesse nearly dropped the plate he was holding. “Jealous? No, it’s not like that. Like, at all.”

Lalo’s eyebrows raised. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, but he frowned. Shit—was it? The thought made him queasy.

Between the two of them, they got the dishes put away. Afterward, they went to the living room
to watch a movie. Or at least, put a movie on. They rarely made it all the way to the end. On the
sofa, Lalo put an arm around him and pulled him close. Jesse breathed in—he loved the way he
smelled. Jesse’s nose wasn’t sophisticated enough to describe his cologne exactly—something a
little spicy, a little musky.

Jane had always smelled nice, too. Like lavender and powder.

Shit. It hit him out of nowhere sometimes, although less often than it used to, which he had
mixed feelings about. It had been six months. Would he forget her in a year? Shit.

“Something wrong?”

How did he always do that? Jesse wanted to say no, but he didn’t think Lalo would buy it. At the
same time, he didn’t know how to talk about it without breaking down, which he definitely did
not want to do. “You ever been in love?” he asked instead.

Lalo stiffened. For once, it seemed like Jesse was the one to catch Lalo off guard. “Once,
almost,” he said at last. “He was my right-hand man for a little while. Quiet. Serious. Very good-
looking—really took pride in his body, you know? And his eyes—I can’t begin to describe them.
A deep, dark brown with absurdly long lashes. Doe’s eyes. Too soft for a criminal. I would gaze
into them sometimes, searching for him.”

Jesse’s brow crinkled. “Searching for him? What do you mean?”

“I’m good at reading people—finding out their motives, their weaknesses. But he always eluded
me. The harder I looked, the deeper I fell…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “I tried to give
him everything he wanted—money, power. At least, that's what I thought he wanted. But I was
very wrong.”

“What happened?”

“It turns out he was a spy the whole time. He betrayed me to my worst enemy and then blew his
brains out.”

“Yikes,” was all Jesse could think to say. He winced—not a very sensitive response.

To his relief, Lalo chuckled. “I should have known better. I was so angry at his betrayal, but
angry at myself, too. All those months by my side and in my bed, and I never caught on that he
hated me.”

Jesse leaned his head on Lalo’s chest. “Why did he hate you?”

“I don’t think it was personal. He hated us all. At first I assumed he did it for the money, but
then I found out it was because my enemy was holding his father hostage. He was loyal after all.
Just—not to me.” He smiled sadly. “You remind me of him a little.”

Jesse looked up at him, confused. Nothing he had described had sounded anything remotely like
him. “How?”

“You have a heart. That’s rare in this business.”

“And you don’t?”

Instead of answering, Lalo kissed him gently. “And what about you?” he asked when they
parted. “You ever been in love?”

He almost said he didn’t want to talk about it, but Lalo had been so open with him. “Yeah. Her
name was Jane. She was knock-out gorgeous, like a pin-up girl. And she had the same kind of
eyes as your guy—mysterious. I never could tell what she was thinking. She was an amazing
artist, and so fucking smart—much smarter than me, anyway. I don’t know what she saw in me.”

“You broke up?”

Jesse shook his head. “No. Sh-she died, in bed with me. Overdose. She choked to death on her
own vomit with me right by her side, too strung out to even know it was happening.” He pulled
away from Lalo and pressed his fingers to his eyes, hoping to keep the tears away. “I went
through rehab,” he said once he composed himself. “And I learned that it wasn’t really my fault.
We were addicts chasing a high that would kill us eventually. But sometimes I’m… I don’t
know. Jealous of her. Because she got to go and I had to stay behind, and I hate it here. It’s why
I started using in the first place.”

And that was way too much sharing. He wrapped his arms around himself. Christ, he really,
really, really wanted to get high.

Lalo put a finger under his chin and tilted it upward until their gazes met. “You aren’t going to
do that again,” he said. His tone wasn’t threatening or scolding. He said it simply, as if it were a
fact.

And strangely, Jesse believed him.

Lalo kissed him again, softly, sweetly. The tension left Jesse’s body in a shudder; he felt like he
would have fallen apart without Lalo’s arms around him.

They didn’t stay on the couch—Lalo led him upstairs. It was dark in the bedroom, lit only by the
faint light from streetlamps streaming through the half-closed blinds. Lalo undressed him, in
between kisses, and laid him out on the bed. Instead of joining him right away, Lalo paused,
looking down at him. His expression had gone still as stone. There was something cold in his
eyes that Jesse hadn’t noticed before. Calculating.

He suddenly felt uncomfortably exposed. His skin broke out in goosebumps, and he fought the
urge to cover himself. “What?”

Lalo shook his head. “Nothing. You’re beautiful.” Soft words, and a soft touch as he caressed
him, and in another moment Jesse’s discomfort dissolved into pleasure as Lalo coaxed him to
full arousal.

Lalo stripped his clothes and got into bed, pulling them both under the covers, where it was even
darker, but it was a warm darkness—one that grew warmer with every kiss, every touch. Lalo
disappeared for a moment to rummage through the nightstand and returned with a bottle of lube.

He put his lips next to Jesse’s ear. “I want to be bare inside you.”

It took Jesse’s lust-addled mind a second to catch his meaning. “Like—no condom?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He kissed his neck.

“Uh…” It was really hard to think with Lalo’s hands all over him. But really, why not? He was
tested for everything at rehab and hadn’t done drugs or had sex since then. And Lalo wouldn’t
suggest it if he thought it wouldn’t be safe, right? “I mean, are you…you know, clean?”

“Don’t you trust me?” He put a hand between Jesse’s legs, teasing his hole.

He gasped. “Y-yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.”

Lalo rewarded him with a deep kiss. He opened the bottle and got them both slicked, then
positioned Jesse on his back, spreading his thighs wide. Lalo didn’t hesitate—he knew by now
that Jesse got impatient. He entered him, pausing for Jesse to adjust before pushing in further,
until he was fully seated.

Christ, it felt good. It was the first time Jesse had something inside him that wasn’t made of, or
covered in, plastic. Just Lalo inside him, with nothing between them. The thought alone was hot
as fuck, and the feeling itself was ten times better. Lalo moved exquisitely slow, drawing out
every last sensation.

“Oh my God,” he moaned as he stroked himself. “Fuck, Lalo, that feels so fucking good…”

Lalo responded by picking up the pace, and soon Jesse was beyond speech, beyond himself,
beyond caring about anything other than the pleasure Lalo gave him.

“I’m close,” Lalo panted. “Can I—?”

“Fuck yeah!” Jesse said before he could finish. The thought of Lalo shooting inside him made
his own dick throb. “Cum in me!”

Lalo groaned and muttered something in Spanish, like he always did when he was close. His
thrusts lost their rhythm and then he let out a shout and pushed in as deep as he could go,
emptying himself inside. With a wail, Jesse followed him, spurting all over his stomach.

They lay in the dark, panting. Jesse wouldn’t mind Lalo staying inside for a little while, but his
legs were starting to cramp. Lalo seemed to sense his discomfort; he eased out of him and
moved behind him, drawing him into his arms so his chest was flush with Jesse’s back.

“That,” Jesse said when he caught his breath, “was awesome.”

Lalo laughed; Jesse loved the way it made his chest rumble against him. “You liked that,
tesorito?”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “What do you think? Yeah. Duh.”

“I’m glad. I like being intimate with you.”

Intimate. Yeah, that was the right word for it. Jesse snuggled in and started to drift away.

“What would make you like it here?” Lalo’s voice was so low Jesse struggled to hear, as if Lalo
was far away instead of right behind him.
“What?”

“You said you hate it here. So what would make you want to stay?”

If Lalo had asked him earlier, it might have tripped him up. But he was so relaxed, his body still
thrumming with pleasure, that the question didn’t sting the way it might have otherwise. He
yawned. “Shit, I don’t know. Maybe if the world didn’t suck so much.”

“What do you mean?”

Jesse yawned again. He didn’t think he had enough brain power to get into it, but he finally
latched onto a thought. “Back when I was dealing, I had to chase down a couple of skells who
ripped off one of my guys. I went to their place to get our shit back—it was a total shithole,
obviously. And they had a kid.”

The afterglow was rapidly fading, and he felt more tired than sleepy now. “Four or five years
old, bright red hair. Just this sweet little kid, you know? A sweet kid that didn’t ask for his
parents to be abusive asshole junkies. In what kind of shitty world is shit like that allowed to
happen? I tried to help—I called 911 for them to come get him. But I wanted to do more. I
wanted to give him everything that his parents should have given him. I like to tell myself that
he's doing okay, but he's probably in some shit foster home. It's just shit, it's all shit.”

Lalo started running a hand up and down his body, petting him soothingly. Jesse calmed down
again, feeling a little embarrassed at his outburst. “So yeah, world peace, I guess,” he said in a
lighter tone. “Probably shouldn’t hold my breath.”

Lalo kissed his shoulder while he thought. “I should give you a baby.”

Jesse burst out laughing. “What, you want to get me pregnant? I mean, feel free to keep trying,
but I don’t think it’s gonna happen. I wouldn't know what to do with a baby, anyway.”

Lalo laughed, too. “Not a baby, then. A little boy like the one you told me about. You’d be a
good papá, I think.”

Jesse snorted. “Oh yeah, junkies make great parents. Everyone knows that.”

Lalo smoothed a hand over his hair. “Ah, but if you had a child, you would never touch drugs
again. You’d do anything to keep him safe.”

What? Jesse rolled over in his arms. “This is a really weird conversation,” he said.

Lalo shrugged. “I was only teasing. I’ll get us a washcloth." He got out of bed and headed to the
bathroom.

Jesse sat up and clutched the sheets around himself. Unease pricked him for some reason, but
why? Lalo was just messing around. Obviously.

Because it would be really unhinged to offer to get him a kid to make him happy.

Lalo returned to bed, washcloth in hand. He started to clean Jesse, but Jesse took the washcloth.
“You know, I think I’m going to take a shower,” he said.
 “Want company?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Jesse escaped to the bathroom. Dealing with the aftermath of condomless sex turned out to be
kind of gross when you were on the receiving end. He got the water hot as he could stand it; his
skin turned pink under the spray. He was being ridiculous. Why was he getting so freaked out
over a stupid joke?

By the time he finished his shower, his anxiety had lessened. Maybe what he was really freaking
out about was Lalo being a little too good to be true, and that was probably something he should
keep in mind. They were having fun, but Lalo made it clear this was a temporary relationship.
This whole thing was all just make-believe. No matter how sweetly Lalo crooned tesorito in his
ear, this was never meant to last, the way dreams never lasted. Which made him sad, but it was
also reassuring. That was way more in line with the world he knew.

When Jesse returned, wearing a towel around his waist, he was surprised to see Lalo was
dressed. His heart sank. “You leaving?”

Lalo shrugged at him and smiled. “It seems like you might need a little space.”

Did he? “I mean, I don’t mind if you stay.”

Lalo crossed the room until he was right in front of him. “If you want me to stay, you must tell
me.” He was still smiling.

Jesse swallowed. “I-I want you to stay.”

Lalo kissed his forehead. “There. That wasn't hard, was it? You must tell me the things you
want, tesorito. How else will I know?” He took Jesse’s hands in his and guided them to the
buttons on his shirt. Jesse caught on to what he wanted and began to undo them. When Jesse was
done, Lalo shrugged out of the shirt and let it fall to the floor. He kissed him.

And fuck, Jesse was getting hard again. It had been a long time since he’d managed that quick a
turnaround. He undid Lalo’s fly and let his towel drop to the floor.

Jesse was up for another go, but Lalo wasn’t. Instead, he stroked him to climax—a weak sputter
compared to earlier. His second orgasm brought back the glow from before. Again, he sighed in
Lalo’s arms. Shit, if this was all a dream, let him dream it a little longer. One day, Lalo would be
gone, and he could figure out what to do with himself then.

Chapter End Notes

Relax, this isn't mpreg. That was a really weird thing for Lalo to bring up, though. 🤔
going to be real - I haven't decided if I'm going to chase after this plot point, but Lalo
(I'm

brought up the idea and I decided to hear him out. Oh Lalo - he's so very hinged.)

Next chapter, Lalo really rubs Walt's nose in it, which prompts Walt to start making plans...
Comments, as always, are very much appreciated! <3
 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

Thanks for your patience for this chapter. I decided Walt should get a shot at wooing Jesse
(which - lol), so I had to do a little readjusting of my outline. No Lalo this chapter, but he'll
be back with a vengeance in chapter 5 though!

I've also made a soundtrack for the fic, which you can listen to on Spotify or YouTube. I
chose songs from the each of the characters' preferred genres, plus a few of my own. Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Walt was nervous.

Which really pissed him off, to be honest. Considering all the harrowing ordeals he’d been
through recently, a conversation with his 24-year-old ex-junkie partner should not make him
nervous in the least. And yet here he was, sitting in his car in said ex-junkie’s driveway, wiping
his sweaty palms on his pants and trying to even out his breathing. Ridiculous.

Or maybe not so ridiculous, considering how disastrous his usual attempts at gentle persuasion
went with Jesse, especially when some nefarious person had their claws in him. Lalo was just as
bad as Jane, but in different ways. Jane had been an avaricious addict, dragging Jesse into her
death spiral. Lalo wouldn’t kill Jesse—not if he were right about Lalo’s intent to replace himself
with Jesse, and he was always right—but his own life would be forfeit once Lalo made Jesse his
completely, and then Jesse would be Lalo’s prisoner. Seducing Jesse for himself was what was
best for both of them, if you really thought about it, which Walt always did.
So there was a lot riding on his successful seduction. As much as he would like to, he couldn’t
drag Jesse kicking and screaming out of Lalo’s embrace. Oh, he had plans to deal with Lalo
eventually, but he wanted to avoid a repeat of the Jane situation, with Jesse spiraling into relapse
from grief. No, first he must loosen Lalo’s grip. Transfer that devotion back to himself, where it
belonged. And then he’d eliminate Lalo.

He got out of the car and checked his reflection in the windows. He hadn’t known exactly what
to wear. His first instinct was to dress down, maybe a little more youthful—T-shirt and jeans—
but that might come off as pathetic, so he decided on his usual khakis with a green button-down.
Skyler always said green was flattering on him. It brought out the color in his eyes. He patted his
back pocket to make sure the envelope was still there and then approached the front door.

Jesse answered right away, wearing his usual giant pants and a tent-like T decorated with a
sparkling skull. Clearly Jesse believed his clothes made him look tough, but Walt had always
thought they made him look even younger than he was, like a little boy playing dress-up in big
brother’s clothes. His facial features were much too delicate to pull off tough—those baby blue
eyes, the slender slope of his nose, his pearly white teeth in two straight rows that no doubt cost
his parents a small fortune in orthodontics—teeth exposed now in a slight sneer. Still angry,
then, even though Walt had been perfectly courteous and called ahead.

He swallowed his irritation. “May I come in?”

Jesse stepped aside and waved him in with sarcastic exaggeration. Oh, he was really testing him,
wasn’t he? But Walt was good at tests. He would not rise to the bait.

Once inside, Jesse crossed his arms. “You have five minutes.”

Walt steeled himself. This was going to be painful. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Those baby blues blinked, and his sneer softened.

The victory gave him strength. “Yes. For my outburst about Lalo. Your personal life is your own
business.”

Another few blinks, but then Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

“Nothing, except to clear the air. Oh—and to give you this. An apology gift.” He pulled the
envelope from his pocket and handed it to Jesse.

Puzzled, Jesse opened it. Walt was hoping for some excitement, but Jesse still looked confused
as he removed its contents. “Concert tickets?”

“Yes,” Walt said, trying to drum up the enthusiasm he had hoped Jesse would feel. “For the
Rolling Stones. As luck would have it, their world tour is coming through Albuquerque next
week.” He chuckled. “I won’t tell you what I had to do to get seats that good on this short
notice.”

Jesse held them up and raised his eyebrows. “You got me tickets to see my dad’s favorite band?”
He did not sound excited.
This wasn’t going as well as Walt had hoped. “Hey, the Rolling Stones are legendary! One of the
most popular and enduring bands in rock and roll history. They are enormously influential—”

“Yeah, because they ripped off the music of black artists, capitalizing on their creativity and
talent before driving them out of the genre they helped define.”

Walt’s brow furrowed. “What? Who told you that?”

“Jane.”

Jane! Walt suppressed a scowl. Would they ever be free of her? He waved the issue away with a
swipe of his hand. “They’re still a great band, and they give a hell of a concert.”

Jesse tucked the tickets back into the envelope and held it out to him. “Thanks and all, but it’s
not for me. I can’t think of anyone to take, anyway.”

Walt cleared his throat. “Well, I was hoping you and I could go.”

Jesse stared at him. “You and me? Why?”

He wasn’t going to make this easy, was he? Time to break out the big guns. “My cancer is in
remission—for now. But that could change at any time. I was just thinking that if I were to die
tomorrow, I wouldn’t want your only memories of me to be bad ones.”

Jesse’s expression softened. He lowered his arm and looked at the tickets again. “Yeah,” he said.
“Yeah, okay.”

Walt stepped closer. “Excellent! I thought we could do dinner first—a nice steakhouse.”

Another blink; he took a half-step backward but didn’t retreat further. “Uh, sure.”

“I’ll pick you up at six, then.” Walt patted his shoulder, unable to resist the temptation to touch
him, but he made sure his hand didn’t linger. There would be time for that later.

Walt left feeling encouraged. The trouble with their relationship was that their time together,
more often than not, involved something horrible happening. Of course Lalo had been able to
lure Jesse away. But Lalo didn’t share the bond he and Jesse shared—as soon as Walt was able
to build some positive memories with Jesse, Jesse was bound to throw Lalo over.

***

When Walt picked him up the next week, he was surprised to find Jesse wearing a short-sleeved
yellow button-down shirt and khakis instead of his usual oversized gangsta clothes. His hair was
brushed neatly instead of being in its usual untamed spikes. His face was freshly shaven.

He’d dressed up for him? Walt’s heart fluttered. A good sign.

“You look nice,” Walt said as Jesse got in the car.

Jesse rubbed his neck. “Thanks. Wasn’t sure if I needed to dress up or not.” His eyes swept over
Walt.
Walt looked down at his own outfit—a black polo and jeans. After a lot of debate, he had
changed his mind about it seeming pathetic if he switched up his style a little. He wasn’t trying
to look younger, just a little less stuffy. The polo was just tight enough to stretch across his chest.
His body was pretty good for a man his age. At least as good as Lalo’s, anyway.

But now he felt like maybe he’d made a mistake. Too late now, though. “We’re going to a rock
show, Jesse. You don’t need to dress up for that.”

“Yeah, but it’s like, classical rock.”

Walt almost asked him if he thought rock legend Mick Jagger was going to play the violin while
wearing coattails, but he stopped himself. He was supposed to make Jesse enjoy being around
him; giving in to their usual sniping wasn’t likely to help him accomplish that goal.

But he couldn’t let it go completely unremarked upon. “Classic rock,” he corrected. “Not
classical.”

Jesse shrugged. “Whatever.”

It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant. Walt had made reservations at the steakhouse he’d
taken Skyler to on their last anniversary. She’d looked radiant in a low-cut blue dress, and Walt
wasn’t the only one to appreciate it. He loved the way other men looked at his wife, with desire
and envy. Sometimes he’d catch their eye and smirk—yes, she’s beautiful, and yes, she’s mine.

She’d been younger than Jesse when they first started dating—only twenty-two to his thirty-
four. By the time she was Jesse’s age, he’d made her a mother. He still wasn’t sure how he’d
won her. In his more bitter moments, he felt like maybe she felt sorry for him—a washed-out
has-been whose brilliance was being squandered, all while his treacherous former partners made
millions off his ideas.

But Skyler had always been impressed by him; to him, his science career was a failure, but to
her, it was a source of endless fascination. She was so bright, always asking questions; her face
would light up when she finally grasped a concept. You should be a teacher, she had said. You
have a gift.

He glanced over at Jesse—not always as apt a pupil, but that made it more special when Walt
got through to him. His cheeks would flush with pleasure at Walt’s praise, just as Skyler’s once
did. They even had the same blue eyes, like the sky on a perfect summer day...

Guilt pricked him. Well, Skyler had opened the door to this when she fucked Ted. Turnabout
was fair play. He had nothing to feel guilty about.

They took their seats. Conversation had been slow-going. Jesse was staring at the wine list. He
didn’t seem bored, exactly, but he looked uncomfortable—like he’d rather be somewhere else.

Or with someone else. Walt swallowed the thought—jealousy would get him nowhere. This was
supposed to be about making Jesse want to be around him, and bitterness was never attractive.

“So, you’re in a band?” he asked lightly.

Jesse looked up. “What? Oh, yeah. Well, I mean we broke up a while back, but it wasn’t like, a
permanent thing. More like a hiatus.”

“What’s the genre?”

“Alt emo thrash metal.”

None of those words had any meaning to him, but Walt made a thoughtful noise as if they did.
“And you play drums?”

“Yeah, and I’m on vocals. Write the songs, too.”

“Huh. Like Phil Collins.”

Jesse’s face lit up. “The Genesis guy, right? Exactly!”

Walt was surprised. “You’re a Genesis fan?”

“Not really, but people were always telling me I couldn’t sing and do the drums. Phil Collins is
proof it’s possible, is my point.”

“What’s your band called?”

“TwaüghtHammër.”

The arrival of the waiter saved Walt from having to react to that. “Can I get you started with
something to drink?” he asked.

“Yes,” Walt said, picking up the wine list. What to get? Jesse liked sweet. He selected a bottle of
the most expensive Zinfandel on the list—it wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford it. Skyler would have
intervened—to keep up appearances, as if the waiter was going to file a report with the police
about suspicious activity if a couple bought a nice bottle of wine on their date.

Jesse would never object, though. Not to this, at least. And even if he did, his objections never
lasted long.

“Water’s fine for me, thanks,” Jesse said.

“Oh, he’ll want to try a little,” Walt said to the waiter. “Bring two glasses.”

Something occurred to Walt after the waiter departed. “You probably aren’t allowed to have
alcohol, are you?”

Jesse shrugged. “I’m not supposed to, but I’ll have a beer sometimes. Getting drunk just makes
me puke—never really liked it. It’s every other substance I have a problem with.” He flashed a
self-deprecating smile. “I just don’t like wine, is all.”

“You don’t like wine? Really?”

His nose wrinkled. “Tastes like sour grape juice.”

Walt waved a hand. “That’s because you haven’t had the right wine. You’ll like this one. Trust
me.”

The waiter returned with the bottle and glasses, which he poured for them before leaving.

“Why do they always serve wine in these giant ass glasses?” Jesse asked as he reached for his.

Walt motioned for him to stop. “Don’t pick it up yet.” He put his hand on the base of his own
glass. “First, you swirl it—gently.” He demonstrated.

Jesse copied him. “And why are we doing this?”

“Alcohol is made by fermentation, which is achieved by adding yeast to a sugar source—grape

juice, in this case. As the yeast converts the sugars into alcohol, chemical compounds known as
stereoisomers are also created. When you swirl”—he increased his motion slightly—“those
aroma compounds attach themselves to the oxygen in the air, which enhances the flavor. You
want to be gentle, though.”

Jesse increased his swirling too, matching Walt’s pace exactly. A small crease appeared on his
forehead as he concentrated. How hadn’t he appreciated how adorable that was before?

“Now,” Walt continued, “pick it up by the stem—if you cup the bowl in your hand, it will heat
the wine.” Jesse copied him. “Before we drink, we take a sniff.” They both took a deep whiff.
“What do you smell?”

“Uh, grapes?”

Walt ignored the sarcasm. “What else? Close your eyes and smell again.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, but then he did as he was told. “Licorice,” he said at last, sounding a little
surprised. His eyes opened, and he gave Walt an uncertain look, as if he expected to be rebuked.

“Very good,” Walt said encouragingly. “You’re doing well.”

Jesse flushed a little, like he always did at Walt’s praise. “I thought I was imagining things.”

“No, you’ve got the right of it. I smell it, too.” He took another sniff. “I’m also picking up berry.
What do you think?”

Jesse shut his eyes again and inhaled, this time with more enthusiasm. “Yeah, like blackberry.
And this is going to sound weird, but pepper?”

“You have an excellent nose.”

Jesse got pinker. “And now we drink?”

Walt clicked their glasses together. “Now we drink.”

The waiter returned to take their order—steaks for both of them, obviously, but Walt had to
intervene when Jesse told him how he wanted his steak cooked. “Well-done? No, absolutely not.
He’ll have it rare,” he said to the waiter.
Jesse scowled. “I don’t like shit raw. Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Rare is not raw, Jesse,” he explained patiently. “Any harmful bacteria can’t live in the interior
of the steak. Well-done makes the muscle fibers too tough, and all the flavor is destroyed.” He
smiled a little. “Come on, Jesse—I was right about the wine, wasn’t I?” Walt turned to the
waiter. “Back me up here.”

The waiter looked back and forth between the two of them. “Well, it’s a matter of personal taste,
of course. But I wouldn’t recommend well-done. Maybe your son would prefer medium rare.”

Walt’s whole body tensed. He met the waiter’s gaze. “He’s not my son.” It came out as a growl.

To Walt’s satisfaction, the waiter paled and started to stammer an apology, but Jesse jumped in.
“Medium rare is fine.”

The waiter fled, but Walt’s smugness faded when he saw the expression on Jesse’s face. Shit.
Had he ruined things? He finished his wine and poured himself another glass. “So,” he said,
keeping his tone light. “Tell me more about your band.”

By the time their food arrived, the mood had recovered. When Jesse took his first bite, Walt
studied his expression—surprised again, just like when he’d smelled the wine. When would
Jesse learn he was always right?

“Good, right?” Walt asked.

“Yeah,” Jesse admitted. “My mom was always worried about germs. This is a lot better.”

Walt cut into his steak, which bled prettily over the plate, and got a piece onto his fork. “If you
think that’s tender, try this.” He held the bite out to Jesse.

Jesse reached for the fork, but Walt moved it closer to his face. Jesse hesitated, but soon his lips
parted and he let Walt in.

Walt leaned back. “Good, right?”

Jesse nodded as a little juice trickled down his chin. Walt’s cock stirred; he cleared his throat and
turned his attention back to his plate. It wouldn’t do to let on his intentions just yet. He
wondered how long had it taken Lalo to get into his bed.

But no, he wouldn’t think about Lalo. Tonight, it was just the two of them, the way it was
supposed to be. The way it would be. Walt had learned that there was nothing he couldn’t take if
he wanted enough. He wanted Jesse, and so he would have him. It was as simple as that.

***

The concert was phenomenal, with Mick Jagger putting on a rousing performance. Sixty-five
years old, and he was still every inch a rock star. Jesse seemed skeptical at first, but he got into
the swing of it, cheering and clapping with the crowd.

The only blight on Walt’s mood was the waiter’s comment. While there was a gap in age
between himself and Skyler, no one had ever assumed he was her father. But Walt was twice
Jesse’s age—of course people would make that mistake.

He didn’t want other people thinking Jesse was his son. He wanted them to know that Jesse was
his. But that wasn’t true yet—at least, not true in the way Walt wanted it to be. But once it was,
he could probably do subtle things to let people know—rest a hand on the small of his back, for
instance. Put an arm around his shoulder. Lean in to whisper something in his ear that would
make him blush.

It would get stares—a man his age, with a sweet young thing on his arm. Some would feel envy,
others disgust. He’d welcome both. A scenario swirled in his mind—some asshole getting in his
face, sneering slurs, not knowing who he was dealing with. Walt would lay him out like he had
those punk kids who had mocked Walt Jr—one of the keys to his success was that everyone
underestimated him. Jesse would look on, his eyes wide with shock and delight, just like
Skyler’s had been. Then he’d take him home and Jesse would fall to his knees, and—

He cut the fantasy off before he got too swept up. None of that would come to pass if he didn’t
keep his focus.

After the concert was over, Walt drove Jesse home. Jesse was uncharacteristically quiet, even
though he’d assured Walt that he’d enjoyed himself. Walt almost asked what he was thinking
about, but he decided maybe it was better not to interrupt his musing.

Walt pulled into Jesse’s driveway. “Well, here we are,” he said.

“Thanks. I had a good time.”

“Me too.”

Jesse put his hand on the door handle, but paused. Walt sucked in his breath—would he invite
him in?

“Listen, Mr. White—”

“You can call me Walt, you know,” he interrupted. “I’m not your teacher anymore.”

Jesse blinked. “Uh, okay. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not going to like, turn my back
on you or anything. We’re partners. That hasn’t changed, no matter what’s going on with me and
La—”

“Oh, I’m not worried about him,” Walt interrupted again with a wave. He did not want that
man’s name spoken tonight. “I shouldn’t have overreacted. If you say that he intends to keep his
word, I trust your judgement.”

Jesse stared at him. “Really?”

“Really,” Walt lied. “And besides, he won’t be around forever, will he? Nothing wrong with
enjoying a fling. You’re both adults.”

The dart hit its mark. Jesse rubbed his neck. “Yeah. Cool.” He opened the door. “See you later,
Mr. White.”
 It wasn’t until Walt was halfway home that he realized Jesse hadn’t called him Walt. Force of
habit, probably. Besides, he hadn’t been sure how he felt about that, anyway.

Chapter End Notes

The Rolling Stones did actually make a stop in Albuquerque on one of their world tours,
but it was in 1997. Just one more wacky way this is an AU.

Everything Walt said about the wine is true. Zinfandels are actually not a very expensive
variety, but I needed something a little sweet. I considered having him order the wine Gus
discussed with his waiter friend, but I doubt that the midpriced steakhouse Walt brought
Jesse to would carry it lol

👀
Next chapter - Lalo serenades Jesse, plays with his ass, and finds a very creative way to
torment Walt
 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

Thanks for your patience, everyone! Had some writer's block for a while, but I got over it. I
recommend checking out this song, which Lalo sings this chapter, which you can also find
on the playlist here and here. (Who knew this would be such a musical fic?)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

If someone had told Jesse a year ago two middle-aged men would be competing for his heart,
he'd have tried to get the number for their dealer, because clearly whatever they were smoking
was the good shit. But that was the situation he found himself in.

He hadn’t been sure at first with Mr. White. Since Jesse assumed Mr. White was super
heterosexual, he gave the edge to Mr. White being sincere about making amends. But when it
came to Mr. White, the safest bet was to assume he had ulterior motives. Besides, since when
did Mr. White apologize? He should have known better.

It’s not like Mr. White had actively hit on him, exactly—or if he did, it wasn’t obviously sexual.
But something had for sure shifted in their relationship. Before, Mr. White treated Jesse with a
general air of disapproval, which only briefly broke when Jesse did something that proved he
wasn’t an idiot. Their night out had been the opposite. Mr. White’s annoyance flared a couple of
times—when Jesse said he didn’t like wine, or when he ordered his steak wrong—but other than
that, Mr. White’s gaze was approving. More than approving, actually. He looked at him like he
looked at the stacks of cash their meth earned them. Like he wanted more. Like he could never
get enough. And for once, he seemed to care a lot about what Jesse thought of him. From the
way he dressed to the places he took him, Mr. White was trying to impress him.

It took Jesse awhile to decide how he felt about that. He tried to drum up some outrage or
disgust—Mr. White was his teacher and twice his age. But honestly, their student/teacher
relationship had been brief—Jesse had sulked in the back of the classroom, and their only
interaction was when Mr. White occasionally called on him in class to try to get him to
participate. And seeing how Jesse was fucking Lalo, it wouldn’t be exactly fair for him to think
of Mr. White as a creep.

After he got over his initial shock, he found the idea…well, not appealing, exactly, but not gross,
either. If he were really being honest, it was even a little intriguing. Jesse teased him about his
tighty-whities, but at the same time…yeah, his ass looked pretty great for a guy his age. Or hell,
not even just for a guy his age. It was a good ass in general. Same for his pecs. Once he lost the
hair and gained the goatee, he officially became a DILF.

Another thing about Mr. White was that he was always there—like, always, whether Jesse
wanted him to be or not. Lalo would leave, but Mr. White most definitely would not. He was
separated from his wife. He was clearly interested. And Jesse was curious.

Not curious enough to step out on Lalo, though. Even though they weren’t a defined thing, Jesse
sure felt like it would be cheating. Still, once Lalo was gone…yeah, maybe that was worth
exploring. Maybe Mr. White would be nicer to him if they were fucking. And maybe Jesse
would stop feeling so alone.

***

Lalo showed up for their next date in a pick-up truck.

Perplexed, Jesse met him in the driveway. “I thought we were going out to lunch,” he said as
Lalo stepped out of the cab.

Lalo held a bag aloft. “I brought sandwiches! And a gift.” He handed Jesse the bag and went
around to the back of the truck.

A gift? Jesse followed him as he opened the tailgate and hopped up. Jesse peered in—there were
several boxes, securely fastened. Lalo untied one of the boxes and turned it around so Jesse
could see the picture on the side.

Jesse let out a laugh. “A drum kit?”

Lalo mimed drumming. “And now we can jam.”

“Wait, you were serious about that?”

“What did I tell you? I always mean what I say.” He pointed at him. "And now you don't have
any excuses."

The last time they hung out, they’d ended up talking a lot about Twaüghthammër. Jesse played
him their demo. He’d been eager to share it with Lalo at first, but by the time the music was
finished, he regretted it. How had he not realized how embarrassing the whole thing was? He
used to think he was so dark and tortured; he didn’t have a fucking clue what that meant at the
time.

But Lalo had seemed to enjoy it and wanted to play with him. Luckily, Jesse had an excuse—his
parents had gotten rid of his drum kit. Or at least, that’s what he assumed since it wasn’t there
anymore when he moved back in.

No getting out of it now. But when he saw Lalo’s beaming face, his embarrassment shifted to
pleasure. Lalo wanted him to be happy. It reminded him of the last time someone had gifted him
a drum kit.

He told Lalo about it as they ate their lunch. “My Aunt Ginny gave me my first drum kit,” he
said. “I’d been begging my parents forever and they always said no, but then Aunt Ginny
showed up one day with a really nice set.” He remembered his mother’s tight-lipped expression
—and his aunt’s shit-eating grin. “My mom was pissed. I was convinced she was going to make
me give them back.”

Lalo snorted. “Can’t imagine why.”

“Yeah, as an adult now—I get it. And I think it was as much about annoying my mom as it was
doing something nice for her favorite nephew.” She always called him that, even after his little
brother was born. His mom tried to get her to stop, but she would just shrug. You’re their mother,
so of course you can’t have favorites. Doesn’t mean I can’t. Then she would wink at Jesse as his
mom let out an exasperated sigh. “She would have liked you. My aunt, I mean.”

“Is she no longer with us?”

“She died a little while back. Cancer. This is her house, actually—she left it to me.” Jesse got
quiet for a moment. “You ever wish ghosts were real?”

Lalo cocked his head. “Do you?”

“Yeah. I moved in when she got sick so I could take care of her. Her being sick was awful, but
us being together was great. I really miss her.” His mind drifted as he pictured her sitting right
where Lalo was, smirking at him when she won a hand of cards, or scowling at him as he fussed
at her to eat, or laughing when he did something silly to cheer her up. He came back to himself
as he caught Lalo staring. “What?”

Lalo shook his head and smiled. “Nothing. You’re just a special guy for taking care of her. You
know that?”

Jesse rubbed his neck, embarrassed. “Not really. Anyone would do the same.”

“No, they wouldn’t.” He smiled again. “Why are you so sure ghosts aren’t real?”

“Because Aunt Ginny would have definite opinions about what I’ve been up to, and so far I
haven’t heard shit.”

Lalo laughed, then he got up and stretched. “Let’s get those drums set up, yeah?”
After some debate, Jesse decided to put them in the living room. He had thought about the
basement, but he’d avoided it after the whole Krazy-8 situation. Lalo had brought his guitar—
acoustic, not electric. It looked old but in good condition; Lalo had clearly taken care of it. He
sat on the edge of the couch and tuned it while Jesse gave his new drums some experimental
taps.

“Nice guitar,” Jesse said.

“You like it?” Lalo strummed the strings. “It belonged to Javiar Solís, an idol of mine. No one
sang about love like he did. Died way too young, but that was part of the romance for me. You
know how sentimental I am.” He played a few chords. “Anyway, I was attending an auction with
my brother Joaquín where it was for sale. He outbid me for it.”

“So he bought it for you?”

Lalo laughed. “No, man, he got it for himself! The funny thing is, he didn’t even like music.
That was just the way he was—whenever I wanted something, he had to have it, ever since we
were kids. Don’t get me wrong—I loved my brother, but he was a greedy son of a bitch. It was
like he had a hole in his heart that he was always trying to fill. One of the smartest people I ever
knew, but it didn’t surprise me when he was the first of my brothers to die.”

The first, implying it wasn't the only. Shouldn’t surprise him—cartel life was brutal. Jesse's heart
hurt for him. “Sorry for your loss.”

Lalo shrugged. “It was a long time ago. After his passing, we went through his stuff, and I found
this guitar in the back of a closet, gathering dust.” He turned the guitar over and contemplated it.
“I wonder sometimes what he was thinking when he bought it. Was it just the pleasure of
denying me? Maybe—you know how brothers can be. But maybe it was because he never knew
what he wanted for himself and was looking for an answer. That would explain the book of
music I found with it. I think he did try to appreciate it, but some people are born to be
unsatisfied.”

“Sounds like it’s a valuable collectable—I’m kinda surprised you actually play it instead of just
like, having it on display.”

Lalo shook his head and tutted. “And what pleasure would that give me? No, instruments are
meant to be played. It’s what they’re for. They enjoy it.”

Jesse laughed. “They enjoy it, huh?”

“¡Por supuesto! You know how I can tell?” When Jesse shook his head, Lalo strummed the
strings. “They sing for me.” He started to sing, translating as he went. “Nada me importa—that
means ‘nothing matters’—Cuando me besas—when you kiss me—de todo me olvid… And that
means I forget everything.”

Jesse could feel his cheeks pink.

Lalo started playing with more relish. “Cuando no miro—when I don’t look—tus lindos ojos—at
your pretty eyes—Es un martirio—I am martyred!” He got up and crossed to where Jesse was
sitting. He was officially being serenaded.
Jesse covered his face. “Oh my god,” he said, half-laughing, half-groaning. “You are so corny.”

Lalo continued, undeterred, his voice warbling. “Nada me importa—it doesn’t matter—lo que
me digan—what they tell me—Si yo te quiero, si yo te adoro!” He got down on his knees in
front of him. “Por eso grito—that’s why I shout—a todo el mundo—to all the world—Que tí
eres mi Tesoro!”

He didn’t have to translate the last line. Christ, the way he was looking at him—his gorgeous
brown eyes were the definition of smoldering. No wonder Jesse felt on fire every time he looked
at him.

And he was leaving, probably soon. How much longer did they have? Weeks? Days? Feeling
overwhelmed him, and Jesse launched himself at him, crushing their mouths together. Lalo
pulled back briefly to set his guitar aside, and then he took Jesse in his arms.

They ended up on the floor—Jesse was way too impatient to even make it to the couch. Jesse
had his clothes off before Lalo even had his shirt all the way unbuttoned.

“In a hurry?” Lalo asked wryly. He ran a finger down his cock, his touch too light to be
satisfying.

Jesse groaned and thrust upward, not caring how desperate he sounded. “Fuck, don’t tease me. I
can’t take it. Please!”

Lalo kissed him deeply, then pressed two fingers to his lips. “Get them wet,” he said. No, he
commanded, his voice dark and deep.

Jesse sucked his fingers with abandon, letting spit fill his mouth so much that it dribbled down
his chin. When his fingers were dripping wet, Lalo pulled out of his mouth and brought them
between Jesse’s legs. Jesse moaned his approval and spread his legs wide.

Slowly, Lalo eased inside and allowed Jesse a moment to adjust, then he crooked his fingers,
searching for the right spot. When he found it, Jesse saw stars. “Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!”

Lalo chuckled as he stroked him from the inside. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Jesse whined. Christ, he sounded so needy.

His fingers stilled. “Tell me.”

Jesse just whined again and tried to thrust, but Lalo put his other hand firmly on his hip,
preventing him from moving. “Tell me,” he said again.

Jesse groaned in frustration. He really expected him to talk? “Please,” was the most he could get
out. “I can’t—”

“You can. Tell me how it feels.”

It took every ounce of concentration Jesse could muster. “Like you’re filling me up.”

“Good,” Lalo said, encouraging. He started to move again, but much too slow. “Go on.”
Jesse wet his lips. “Like an ache that doesn’t hurt. Like when you’re in me, I can only feel
good.”

Lalo kissed him fiercely and finally started giving it to him the way he liked—fast and hard.
Jesse couldn’t find words anymore, but he made a lot of noise. Lalo liked it when he was noisy.

“Touch yourself,” Lalo said. Jesse noticed with satisfaction that need had crept into his voice,
too.

If Lalo wanted a show, Jesse could give it to him. He spread his legs wide as he could and
grabbed his cock, getting even louder as his pleasure swelled. Lalo murmured encouragement,
breathless himself now, his English melting into Spanish as the heat grew and grew, until finally
Jesse boiled over, shooting all over himself as Lalo stroked him through it from the inside,
wringing every last drop of pleasure from him.

When it was over, Lalo kept his fingers inside him, even as Jesse’s legs drooped. He was staring
at him, his eyes not just smoldering anymore but burning hot, like he could brand him with his
gaze. He barely blinked. It was kind of…scary.

Discomfort replaced Jesse’s earlier pleasure, but he realized with embarrassment that he’d come
without doing anything for Lalo. “Uh, if you wanna fuck me, go ahead.” It would probably hurt
some, but it was only fair.

But Lalo just shook his head. He leaned down and kissed him gently. “I’ll have my way with
you later.” His eyes were back to being warm instead of burning. He pulled his fingers out
slowly, and then kissed him again before getting up and heading for the bathroom.

By the time he got back, Jesse had managed to pull his boxers and T-shirt back on. He left his
pants off—not much point in keeping them on if Lalo was going to have his way with him later,
a phrase that would turn him on as soon as he was capable of it again. Still, a little of his
discomfort remained—not just in his ass.

Lalo picked up his guitar again and returned to the couch, lounging as he strummed a few
chords. He shot Jesse a smile as he sat down beside him. “What’s on your mind, tesorito?”

How could he always tell? Shit, Jesse didn’t even know what was on his mind, but it was
definitely something. He rubbed his neck while he thought. “Are you really cool with Mr.
White? For real?”

“Of course.”

“He’s not a bad guy,” Jesse went on. “Really. When it counts, he’s there for me.”

Lalo plucked out a melody. “I’m sure he is.”

“If the cancer doesn’t come back…you won’t hurt him, will you? Because I really care about
him. A lot.”

Lalo set his guitar aside and took Jesse’s hands in his. “I swear to you on the graves of my father
and my brothers that I will not lay a finger on your Mr. White.”
Some of the tension in Jesse eased. “Really?”

“Really. I always mean what I say.”

Jesse bit his lip. “And that’s not like, just a technicality, right? Like, you aren’t going to shoot
him or whatever, because that technically wouldn’t be laying a finger on him?”

Lalo leaned in and kissed him. “Your nose crinkles when you worry. It’s cute.” He gestured with
his head to the drums. “Come on—let’s make some music.”

Jesse sat down at his drums and picked up his sticks. “Seriously, though. You won’t hurt him,
right?”

Lalo started playing the song he’d sung earlier, with new lyrics:

No, I won’t shoot him

I will not stab him
I won’t even strangle

He winked, and Jesse laughed. “Okay, okay.”

Lalo kept playing:

I will not drown him

Or cut his head off
With a dull machete

No, I won’t harm him

Unless he starts it
Which he would never
I’m sure he would never

Oh he’s so lucky
That he is loved by
My sweet Tesoro

“I don’t love him,” Jesse said.

“Of course you do, tesorito,” Lalo said. “And I love that you love him. If you turned on him the
moment I showed up—well, that would speak poorly of your character, wouldn’t it? And if mi
tesorito thinks so highly of him, then I’m sure I have nothing to worry about. He’ll keep up his
end of the deal, and we’ll all make a lot of money. It’s nice when things work out, isn’t it?”

Jesse tapped on his drums. “Right,” he said.

But he was thinking, Shit.

Chapter End Notes

I know I promised Lalo tormenting Walt - next chapter! Let me know what you think. :D
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Walt arrived at the lab in a fantastic mood.

The car wash was officially theirs—his and Skyler’s, that is. More importantly, he was back in
her bed. It was only a matter of time until his return home was permanent, although he planned
to slow-walk it. His bachelor pad would be useful for the success of his other project.

He’d planted a seed in Jesse’s brain about Lalo’s inevitable abandonment. Now all Walt had to
do was nurture it. He was sure Lalo himself would help it along—psychopaths like Lalo
couldn’t keep up their charming act forever. Sooner or later, his mask would slip. Jesse would
find out the truth about him.

Walt no longer planned on killing Lalo. While his blood was still boiling over Lalo’s
deflowering of Jesse, he had cooked up a new batch of ricin. But once he’d cooled off a bit, he
realized that it might be an unwise escalation. It was good to have the weapon should he need it,
but there was no telling who would show up in Lalo’s place if he killed him. Plus it would make
a mess of things with Jesse if Lalo suddenly turned up dead with symptoms of ricin poisoning.

No, the best course of action was to let this scenario play out. Maybe Jesse was right that he was
being paranoid about Lalo wanting to kill him. After all, Walt and Jesse were making him an
obscene amount of money. It would be crazy to do anything to jeopardize that. Surely he had
other responsibilities—his empire was more than just Albuquerque. Best case scenario was that
Lalo got bored with toying with them and moved on. It would be the smartest thing to do, and
Lalo seemed like a smart enough guy.
And then a heartbroken Jesse would be all too easy to scoop up. He thought again of Jesse in the
trap house after Jane’s death, weeping in his arms. It wouldn’t be hard to turn his heartbreak to
his advantage—Jesse was so desperate for affection. He’d also fallen immediately in love with
Jane. Maybe Lalo got him into bed so quickly not because he was a master seducer, but because
Jesse was so easy. If Walt had known what Jesse needed, he could have given it to him a long
time ago.

Walt sang to himself as he changed into his gear. He'd had Stones songs stuck in his head non-
stop ever since the concert. "Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name. But what's
troubling you is the nature of my game..."

He looked at his watch. Jesse was running a little late, as usual. Just as he was about to affix his
mask, his cell phone rang. When he picked it up, he frowned at the display—he didn’t recognize
the number. He answered it anyway. “Hello?”

“He’s wearing a butt plug.”

Walt blinked rapidly. “Excuse me?” But the line had gone dead.

At that moment, the door to the lab opened and in came Jesse, his cheeks flushed and hair
mussed. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he descended the stairs. Was Walt imagining things, or was
Jesse moving a lot more gingerly than usual?

He went to his locker and started to strip. Walt tried not to stare, but his eyes wouldn’t obey him.
He scanned him desperately for any signs that his mystery caller had been telling the truth—
although of course it was no mystery to his identity at all. It must have been Lalo, although the
voice had been so expressionless that Walt hadn’t been able to immediately discern its owner.
But who else could it be? The real question was why on earth he would call Walt to tell him…
that.

“Why are you staring at me?” Jesse asked as he finished undressing.

Walt took a beat too long to reply. “Sorry—had a late night. Feeling a little out of it.”

Jesse seemed skeptical. He grabbed his lab gear and dressed quickly—but carefully. “A good
late night, or a bad one?”

“Good.” Walt’s mind flailed around to grab onto a thought that was unrelated to Jesse’s ass.
“Had dinner with the in-laws.”

Jesse grinned. “Hey, right on, Mr. White! You patching things up with your wife?”

“Uh, yeah.” He did not want to be thinking about Skyler right now. He coughed and forced
himself to look away. “Hurry up—I don’t want to be here all day. You really should try to be on
time.” It came out much gruffer than he intended.

Jesse’s smile twisted into a scowl. “Yeah, yeah, yeah—I got places I’d rather be, too, you know.”
But then he smiled again. “Seriously, though. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Well, we’re not out of the woods yet,” he said, suddenly realizing that it was a bad idea for
Jesse to think he and Skyler were on good terms.
“Hey man, don’t be negative! I’m rooting for you.” He frowned. “You feeling okay? Your face is
super red.”

Walt hastened to put his mask on. “I’m fine. Let’s get to work.”

It was a good thing that they had their routine down by now, because Walt’s concentration was
completely shot. Was it true? Did Jesse currently have something inside him, stretching him
open, keeping him ready for—no, he couldn’t let his mind travel down that path, not now. He
willed his growing erection away by focusing on the messenger—why had Lalo called him to
tell him this? To fuck with him, obviously, but to what end? He tried to be dispassionate while
still paying close attention to Jesse’s movements, attempting to discern if he seemed
uncomfortable…or turned on. It was hard to say. He didn’t know how someone would act if they
were wearing…one of those things.

If what Lalo said was true, then he just handed Walt a big weapon. He could tell Jesse that Lalo
let him in on the secrets of their sex life, and that might strike a fatal blow to their romance. But
if it wasn’t true, Jesse would be confronted with the same question he had—why would Lalo tell
such a weird lie? And he might conclude it made no sense for Lalo to risk losing Jesse’s trust,
which meant Walt would look like not only a liar, but a pervert too. Was Jesse even into that
kind of thing? From his comments earlier about Lalo’s dick size, it was clear Jesse liked being
penetrated—

Walt cut off that line of thought. Too much more of that kind of thinking and he might get in a
sticky situation.

They finished the cook. Walt started working on the yield while Jesse cleaned. Soon enough, the
lab door opened—Lalo had arrived. He wasn’t alone—the bald guy, Mike, was with him. Walt
had been surprised to find the same Mike who did errands for Saul working for Lalo, but then
again, Saul was New Mexico's premiere criminal lawyer, so Lalo was probably also his client.

Mike descended the stairs, carrying a clipboard, but Lalo remained on the balcony for a moment,
leaning on the railing as he gazed down at Jesse. Jesse looked up and immediately flushed.
Lalo’s mouth stretched into a sly grin and he waggled his eyebrows, which made Jesse turn
pinker. Was it true after all?

Mike approached Jesse. “Hey, kid—I’m taking inventory and could use your help for a minute.”

While the two of them were busy, Lalo joined Walt and pulled a bag of candy out of his back
pocket. He was always munching on something, even though Walt repeatedly asked him to keep
food out of the lab area. “Hey, you ever try these?”

Walt looked at the bag. “Sour Patch Kids? Yes, I’ve had them.”

“They’re so good—just the right amount of sour to take the edge off the sweet. Want one?”

“No, thank you,” Walt said stiffly.

Lalo shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I’m telling you—you’re missing out.” He licked the sugar off
his fingertips. “How did we do today?”
Seemed like he wanted to pretend the phone call had happened, probably figuring Walt would be
too embarrassed to mention it. But Walt wasn’t going to let him off the hook. He lowered his
voice. “Why did you tell me that?”

“Tell you what?”

Walt glared. “You know what I mean.”

Lalo tilted his head in a very good approximation of confusion. “No?”

Walt lowered his voice even further. “Don’t play stupid with me. You made a phone call to me
right before the cook, and I want to know why.”

Lalo shook his head and chuckled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, man.”

Walt’s fists clenched. “You told me that Jesse—” He clammed up, unable to say it.

Lalo's grin widened. “That Jesse what?”

Walt stammered, but he didn’t get a chance to finish because Jesse and Mike joined them. “So,
how'd we do?” Lalo asked Walt again.

Walt went over the numbers. What other choice did he have?

When they were finished, Lalo turned to Jesse. “You ready to go?”

Jesse’s gaze darted to Walt before he answered. “Yeah, just let me get changed.”

“I’ll meet you upstairs.” Then Lalo did something insane—he put a hand on Jesse’s waist and
pulled him in for a kiss. It was brief—more of a peck on the lips than a lingering embrace, but
Walt felt like it was one of the most obscene things he’d ever witnessed. He looked to Mike,
who remained stone-faced.

Lalo brushed Jesse’s flushed cheek with his finger before pulling away. “Don’t take too long,
tesorito.” Lalo nodded to Mike. “You’ll have that report for me tomorrow, yeah?”

Mike nodded, his face still impassive. How was he not reacting to what just happened? “Sure
thing.”

With that, Lalo departed. After the door shut, Mike returned his attention to his clipboard as he
walked around the lab. Walt and Jesse remained frozen in place. “I, uh, gotta go to the
bathroom,” Jesse eventually stammered, and he fled.

Walt stared after him. Was he fleeing the awkward situation, or did he need to go…take care of
something? Or maybe he just had to pee. Walt couldn’t be sure.

He tried to concentrate on the yield, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop thinking of what Jesse
might be doing in there. When Jesse emerged, he made a beeline for the lockers, got dressed,
and mumbled a couple of goodbyes before disappearing out the door.

Where was Lalo taking him tonight? Would he bring him to bed afterward? Of course he would,
and Jesse would love every minute of it, the little slut. His fists clenched, and he thought of how
well a vial of ricin would mix in a bag of sour candies.

“Don’t do it,” Mike said as soon as Jesse was gone. He was still looking at his clipboard.

Walt jumped, startled out of his thoughts. “Do what?”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking. Don’t try it.”

Walt scowled. “I wasn’t thinking of anything—and besides, what business is it of yours?”

Mike shrugged and checked something off before moving on to the next piece of equipment.
“You ever have a cat?”

Walt’s brow furrowed at the non sequitur. “No.” He hated cats.

“I’ve only had one, years ago. One of those tuxedo cats. Good-looking animal—he had these
long whiskers and a purr like a motor. Now, I kept this cat well fed, but he went out hunting
every night anyway, just for the pleasure of it. And I know it was for the pleasure because he
wouldn’t kill the poor little vermin he caught right away. He’d even bring them inside
sometimes. He had a talent for keeping them alive to play with before he finally put them out of
their misery. And guess who got to clean up after his victims? Me, that’s who. I was constantly
scraping rodent guts off my basement floor.”

Walt swallowed. “Does this story have a point?”

Mike ignored the question. “One day, I go down to the basement and find yet another furry
victim. So I get my gardening gloves on, pick it up, and take it to the backyard to bury it. But as
soon as I open the door, the thing springs to life and scurries away. It had played dead, hoping
that my cat would lose interest, which he did. Smartest rat I’ve ever seen.”

“I am not a rat,” Walt said.

“Well you sure as shit ain’t a cat.” Mike finally looked up. “You can’t take him, Walter. I have
personally witnessed that man return from the dead—he’s the goddamn Antichrist, and he’s got
the luck of the devil. Don’t make yourself fun to play with, and maybe he’ll decide to leave you
alone. It’s your best shot.”

“And what about Jesse?” Walt said. “What happens when Lalo’s done toying with him?”

Mike shook his head. "I’ve said my piece. Take my advice, or don’t.”

Walt stewed over his words as he got dressed. Let Lalo have his way? Not fucking likely. He
was more determined than ever. He’d win Jesse back, and then he’d take Lalo out. There were
plenty of ways to skin a cat—Lalo’s guts would be the ones Mike had to scrape off the floor.

***

It had been a little while since Walt had cooked a nice dinner; he usually left the cooking up to
Skyler. But when he put his mind to it, he was actually quite talented. Cooking was just
chemistry, if you thought about it. He was good with chemistry.
Jesse would be over any minute. After checking on the salmon, he fussed with the table to make
sure everything was perfect. Candlelight. Nice china. Flowers. A couple bottles of wine cooling
in an ice bucket. Classical music playing on his new sound system. He had planned on a slow
seduction, but time was of the essence. Time to make things explicit—Jesse liked romance? He
could do romance. And he had the leg up on Lalo, because unlike Mr. Antichrist, he was actually
sincere.

Well, more sincere than Lalo, at any rate.

The doorbell rang—he was on time, for once. Walt gave himself one last look in the mirror
before answering the door. Jesse was dressed in his usual gangsta drag—a shirt with emblazoned
with a graffiti-style cross, giant jeans, a black hoodie, and a beanie to top it off. He imagined
running his hand under that baggy shirt and finding the warm, delicate body hiding beneath it…

But one thing at a time. “Jesse,” he said warmly. “Please, come in.”

Jesse’s eyes widened when he saw the table. “Uh, you said you wanted to talk?”

“And what better way to talk than over dinner?” He pulled out one of the chairs. “Have a seat.
The salmon should be just about done.”

Warily, Jesse sat, his shoulders hunched. Walt took a bottle of wine out of the bucket and popped
the cork. “I thought we’d try a white wine this time—a Riesling.” He poured Jesse a glass and
held it out to him. “Go on, give it a whiff.”

Jesse accepted the glass, but he set it aside. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Walt poured himself a glass. “I wanted to.” He stuck his nose in the glass. “I’m getting apricot.
How about you?”

Hesitantly, Jesse took a quick sniff. “Yeah, sure.” He took a large swallow.

A timer went off—the salmon. Walt arranged it on the platter with slices of lemon—it looked
pretty damn good, if he said so himself. He brought it to the table and laid it out with the other
dishes—green beans and rice pilaf. He served both himself and Jesse a plate and topped off
Jesse’s wine—he’d already almost finished the glass—and then he sat. “Bon appetite,” he said.

Jesse took another gulp of wine, then poked at his salmon. “So, uh, how are things going with
your wife?”

Walt had prepared for this. “Terrible, to be honest. It turns out she’s been cheating on me.”

“Oh, man. That sucks,” Jesse said, immediately sympathetic.

“We’re going to stay together for the sake of the children and the business,” he said. “But
functionally, our marriage is over.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” He looked around the room again. “Um, what did you want to talk
about?”

Walt waved a hand. “In a minute. Why don’t we enjoy dinner first?”
He kept the conversation light, making sure to top off Jesse’s wine frequently. At last, the hunch
in his shoulders relaxed. Good. He wasn’t trying to get him drunk, exactly—just in a more
receptive frame of mind.

Jesse finished the last bite of his food—he’d finished the whole plate, Walt noted with
satisfaction. “So, did you actually have something you wanted to talk about, or were you just
trying to get me to come over for dinner? ‘Cause you could have just asked.”

“No, I do.” Walt finished his wine. Here goes nothing. “This might not be easy for you to hear,
but I think you have the right to know. I’m worried about Lalo’s intentions towards you. He’s
said some things about you that concern me.”

Immediately, Jesse tensed up. “Like what?”

First hurdle cleared—he wasn’t sure Jesse would be willing to listen right away. “He brags to me
about having sex with you.”

Jesse startled, as if he’d been slapped. “What?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. He’s been doing it for weeks.”

Jesse took a moment to absorb that. “Why haven’t you said anything till now?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d believe me. But he's going too far.”

Jesse bit his lip. “What kinds of things does he say?”

“That he likes making you moan.”

From Jesse’s expression, it seemed like that much was true. “What else?”

It had actually only been the two times, and Walt still wasn’t sure the butt plug angle was a good
one to go with in case Lalo had made it up. He’d stick to more general guesses. “He loves it
when you’re on your knees in front of him. He brags about how eager you are for it.”

At that, Jesse narrowed his eyes, and then he sighed. “Look, Mr. White, I know you’re worried.
But making shit up about Lalo isn’t going to change my mind about being with him.”

Shit. Maybe it was worth it to try the butt plug angle—it would be a bullseye if it were true. “He
told me yesterday he made you wear a butt plug at the lab.”

Jesse’s mouth dropped open, and his cheeks blushed scarlet. For a moment, Walt thought he had
scored, but then Jesse’s face screwed up. “No, I wasn’t wearing a fucking butt plug while I was
doing a cook! How would you even come up with something like that?”

Walt winced. Not a bullseye, then, but he had the advantage of it actually being the truth. “I
didn't! He's the one who came up with it. He called me on my cell right before you came in and
told me.”

“Why the fuck would he do that?”

“Because he knew that if he said something truly disgusting, I would feel honor bound to come
to you with the truth at last. And then you would think it was a lie, and it would drive an even
bigger wedge between us! Don’t you see? That’s been his goal this whole time—to turn us
against each other—”

Jesse shot to his feet. “You just can’t believe that anyone would ever want me, can you? It just
blows your fucking mind, huh? And you really think that every single goddamn thing that
happens is all about you. Well, it fucking isn’t!” He rubbed his face. “Look, I’m really sorry
about your wife and your mid-life crisis or whatever, but leave me out of it.” He headed for the
door.

Walt lunged out of his chair and reached the door just as Jesse was opening it. He slammed it
shut and locked it, then pinned Jesse to the door with an arm on either side of him. Jesse’s eyes
had gone completely round. He pressed himself against the door as if he could meld through it to
escape, but Walt wasn’t about to let him go that easily.

“I don’t think it’s unbelievable that anyone would want you,” Walt said in a low voice. “Because
I want you. I’ve stumbled through decades with my eyes closed, too frightened to go after what I
truly wanted. I’m done with that now.” He let his voice get even softer. “Jesse, I love you.”

Jesse’s eyes somehow got even wider. “Mr. White—”

“Walt,” he insisted, leaning in closer.

Jesse’s chest heaved. “Walt—”

Fuck, his name sounded so sweet on Jesse’s lips. His voice was so vulnerable, so lost—it sent a
shock of arousal through him so powerful his knees almost buckled. He surged forward and
captured his mouth in a kiss.

Jesse didn’t kiss him back—but he didn’t push him away, either. Walt put a hand around his
waist, the way Lalo had, and pulled him in until their bodies were flush, letting Jesse feel his
arousal. “Please, just give me one night,” he said against his lips. “One night to prove how much
I love you, please…” He kissed him again.

Jesse put a hand on his chest as if to push him away, but then a small sigh escaped him. “Okay,”
he whispered, and his breath hitched.

Walt didn’t waste any time. He steered them toward the couch, not letting his kisses let up for
even a moment until he got Jesse flat on his back, and he knocked Jesse’s legs open with his
knees, settling between them. After tossing his glasses aside, he snaked a hand under Jesse's
shirt and pressed his hand on his bare skin, right over his wildly beating heart. Months out of
recovery, and he was still so thin, so fragile—Walt could feel every one of his ribs.

Jesse let Walt wrestle him out of his hoodie and shirt. He also sent his beanie flying so he could
run a hand through his hair, as soft and light as goose down. He kissed him again, pouring every
last ounce of passion into the embrace. He would make Jesse feel his love; he would burn it into
him if he had to.

At last he broke away, and they both gasped for air. Walt held Jesse’s face in his hands and laid
kisses all over it, then made his way down his neck. He sucked at the skin, right in the place that
Lalo had left a hickey weeks ago. A burst of aggression mixed in with his passion, and he took
Jesse’s skin between his teeth and bit—not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to
leave a mark.

“Ow! What the fuck?” Jesse tried to pull away, but Walt grabbed his wrists and held him still.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his lips still against his skin. He gave the bruise an apologetic kiss. “You
make me so crazy—oh, Jesse…” He rolled his hips.

Jesse squirmed in his grasp and started to say something, but it was interrupted by the doorbell
ringing.

They both froze. “Who the fuck is that?” Jesse asked.

Walt shook his head. “A solicitor, maybe. They’ll go away.”

He went back to kissing Jesse’s neck, but then the doorbell rang again, followed this time by a
knock and a muffled voice. “Walt? You in there?”

Skyler? It was like having a bucket of ice water dropped on him. Jesse twisted out of his grip
and crossed the room to where his clothes lay on the floor.

Walt grabbed his glasses and tried to straighten the wrinkles out of his clothes. “Go upstairs,” he
whispered. “I’ll handle this.”

Jesse picked up his shirt and hoodie. “What? No way—she’s going to know I’m here. My car’s
in the driveway,” Jesse pointed out.

The doorbell rang again. “I got your message,” Skyler said. “Are you okay? Walt?”

And then suddenly, horribly, the lock turned. Walt dived for the door, but it was too late. Skyler
stepped in—and the very first thing she saw was a shirtless Jesse with a bright red hickey
ripening on his neck. Her mouth fell open in a horrified O as she looked back and forth between
them.

Jesse hastily dressed. “Um, you two probably need to talk, so I’ll just…yeah.” He escaped out
the front door; a moment later, they heard the squeal of his tires as he peeled out of the driveway.
Walt desperately wished he could do the same.

Skyler seemed to have gotten over the initial shock, and now fury clouded her expression. “Was
that Jesse Pinkman?”

“How did you get a key to my house?” he demanded.

“I had one made in case of an emergency,” she said.

“Without my consent? That’s a massive breach of my trust!”

“Your trust?” Skyler crossed her arms. “That’s really the angle you want to take here?” She
looked to the dining room and all its romantic accoutrements. Tears filled her eyes, and she put a
 hand over her mouth, like she was going to be sick. “Jesus, Walt—he’s half your age, if that. Is
he even old enough to drink?”

“What are you doing here?” Walt asked instead of dignifying that with a response. “I didn’t send
you any message.”

“Yes, you did,” she insisted. “Saul told me you had to see me right away—that it was an
emergency.”

“Saul did?” Walt baffled at the information. “I told him no such thing.”

She held out her arms in an elaborate shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you. You can take it up
with him.” She let out a bitter laugh that was half a sob. “No more secrets. That’s what you said.
And I was stupid enough to believe it.” She pressed her fingers over her eyes, as if she could
hold the tears in.

Walt didn’t know what to do. He approached her cautiously and reached to touch her shoulder.
“Skyler—”

She jolted back, as if his hand had repelled her. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” The tears were
coursing down her cheeks, but there was as much rage in her as sorrow. She turned her head. “I
can’t even look at you right now.”

“Skyler…” Walt tried again, but it was halfhearted. When she left, he didn’t try to stop her.

Walt stood stock still as his mind pieced the picture together. Saul was also Lalo’s lawyer, wasn’t
he? Lalo was behind this, using Saul as his puppet.

Walter raged, knocking all the dishes off the table; the plates shattered into pieces as they hit the
floor. He grabbed a wine bottle and took a few chugs, then sank to the floor. What was he
supposed to do now?

His rage went from red hot to ice cold. He knew what he was supposed to do now, the same as
before. At least that part of his plan hadn’t changed. Someone needed to send Lalo Salamanca
back to hell, and it was going to be him.

Chapter End Notes

Well, that was ridiculous.

last!
😂 Hope you enjoyed the cameos - Mike and Skyler won't be the
Coming up - Jesse is, predictably, driven even further into Lalo's arms, and Walt puts
together a plan...
 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Jesse drove aimlessly for a long time, his mind a blank. Or maybe that wasn’t the right word—it
was more like his mind was so full that he couldn’t process individual thoughts. They all
blended together like radio static turned up to maximum volume. Cacophony. Jane had used that
word once—it meant loud, clashing noises. That’s what it was like in his head right now. A
cacophony of shit.

Eventually, he ended up at Lalo’s house. He hadn’t even made the decision to go there and
barely knew where he was until he parked. It was completely dark now, with only a sliver of a
moon to light the sky—how long had he been driving?

He rang the doorbell. Instead of Lalo, a stone-faced man in a sharkskin suit answered. His eyes
were cold and hard, like an alligator’s. Shit. Had he gotten the wrong house? But no, Lalo’s car
was in the driveway, along with another one. He had guests, apparently.

Jesse rubbed his neck. “Uh, is Lalo here?”

Without a word, the man stepped aside and gestured for him to come in. Nervously, Jesse
entered. He’d only been here a couple of times. It was a surprisingly cozy home—Lalo said it
used to belong to his abuelita before she passed. A giant portrait of her was now on display in
the living room.

Another man sat on the sofa in front of the portrait. He was dressed in an identical suit to the
man who had greeted him—his twin? Or his brother, at least. Tiny silver skulls adorned the tips
of his boots. He looked up from the knife he was sharpening as Jesse walked past, his gaze even
more reptilian than his brother’s.
Jesse shoved his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes glued to the floor. “Yo.”

To Jesse’s relief, Lalo rushed down the stairs moments later. His hair was wet as if he’d just
gotten out of the shower.

“What’s wrong?” Lalo asked as soon as he was by his side, his brows furrowed. Worried—for
him.

Jesse opened his mouth, but then looked at the creepy twins—he couldn’t possibly explain
anything to Lalo with them in the room.

Lalo followed his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Let me introduce you. These are my cousins,
Marco and Leonel. Marco and Leonel, this is Jesse.”

The one on the sofa put his knife away and stood. They nodded to Jesse in unison.

“Uh, nice to meet you,” Jesse mumbled. He didn’t know which one was which, and was hoping
that no one would expect him to.

Lalo caught his cousins’ gazes and gestured with his head toward the front door. Wordlessly,
they left the house. Jesse let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.

He jumped when he felt Lalo’s hand on his shoulder. “You’re pale, tesorito. What’s happened to
you?”

The endearment pushed Jesse over the edge. His breath hitched a couple of times as he tried to
hold it back, but soon he was crying.

Immediately, Lalo pulled him into his arms, shushing him. He waited for the worst of Jesse’s
tears to subside before leading him over to the sofa. After they sat, Lalo offered him a tissue.
“Blow.”

Jesse obeyed. His face was dry again a few tissues later, but there was no getting rid of the
soreness in his eyes or the tender feeling in his nose. Fuck, he must look like a mess.

"Now, are you going to tell me what has you so upset?” Lalo asked.

Jesse sniffed. “Mr. White invited me over to his place for dinner—” He stopped. “No, he tricked
me into going to his place for dinner. He just told me that we needed to talk, and when I came in,
he had everything set up all romantic and shit. And then—” He stopped again.

“Yes?” Lalo prompted.

“He, uh, told me that you bragged to him about having sex with me.” He wiped his nose. “You
didn’t, did you?” He hated how his voice quivered.

Lalo patted his hand. “Do you even have to ask?”

Jesse hung his head. “I’m sorry. He just gets me so mixed up. I tried to leave—” The tears came
again. “But then he said he loved me, and he kissed me. He kissed me.” He said it the second
time as if he couldn’t believe it himself.
Lalo’s expression turned to steel. “He forced himself on you?”

Jesse got a hold of himself. “Well, no. Not exactly. I mean…” He trailed off. What did he mean?

He’d said yes in the moment, but had he really meant it? The confession of love had thrown
him. On some level, hadn’t he been waiting for that? For Mr. White to admit he loved him the
way Jesse loved him back? Because Lalo was right. He did love Mr. White—but not in the same
horrible, desperate way. But when he'd kissed Jesse like he was starving for him, Jesse had been
carried away by the intoxicating feeling of being wanted so badly, especially by the man who
sometimes looked at him like something he’d scraped off his shoe. How could he turn that
down?

But that was the other thing. Maybe he’d said yes because he knew Mr. White wouldn’t take no
for an answer.

“I’m so sorry,” Jesse said through tears. “Do you hate me now?”

Lalo ran his fingers through his hair. “How could I hate mi tesorito? Besides, we’ve made no
promises to each other. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Relief flooded through him. He collapsed into Lalo’s arms, resting his head on his shoulder as he
cried some more. It was embarrassing as shit, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Lalo put his arms
around him and soothed him, encouraging him to breathe. At last, Jesse calmed—or more like
he’d grown too exhausted to keep up all the tension in his body. Being too tired to cry was one
of the only way Jesse found peace some days.

Lalo grabbed some more tissues and encouraged Jesse to sit up and blow his nose again, which
he did. He stared at the soggy tissues in his hands. “His wife showed up and caught us. It was so
bad—she looked like her heart had just shattered.”

Jesse frowned. Wait a minute. “He said their marriage was over, but that sure looked like news to
her. He wanted to make me his fucking side piece?” He was grateful for the sudden burst of
anger. He wiped at his eyes furiously. “That fucking asshole!”

Lalo took Jesse’s chin gently in his hand and tilted his head back to get a good look at his neck.
“He did this to you?”

Jesse pulled away and put a hand over the hickey. Or well—the bite, if he was going to call it
what it really was. It still hurt. He’d tried to push him off, but Mr. White had held him down…
Shit, what would have happened if Mrs. White hadn’t interrupted? A shiver ran through him.
He’d like to think he would have stopped…but he couldn’t really be sure.

“Maybe me and my cousins should go have a talk with him,” Lalo said.

Jesse’s mind flashed to the knife one twin had been sharpening. “No!” he said, panicked, but
then continued in a more measured tone. “I mean, it was a dick move, but it’s not like it’s going
to happen again.” At least, he thought so.

Lalo got another tissue and dabbed the corner of his eyes, which had somehow squeezed out
another few tears. “Pobrecito—how did you end up in this business when you have such a tender
heart?” Lalo wondered out loud. “But very well. I will not introduce him to my cousins.”
Jesse covered his face. “What am I going to say to him?” he mumbled.

“You don’t have to say anything to him.”

Jesse snorted. “That’s gonna be tough if we’re cooking together.”

“Well—I was thinking maybe you wouldn’t anymore.”

Jesse lowered his hands. “What do you mean?”

Lalo took Jesse’s hands in his and met his gaze directly. "How would you like to have your own
lab?”

Whatever Jesse had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. “What?”

“I am building a new state-of-the-art lab in Mexico, based on the one here. It’s almost complete,
and I want you to run it.”

“Me? But I can’t. Ask Mr. White.”

“Mr. White is a lying piece of shit. You’ve had more than enough time to learn. I’ve seen you
work—your Mr. White doesn’t instruct you anymore.”

Was that true? He couldn’t remember. “I don’t know. Even if I could pull off a cook on my own,
I don’t know if I’d be good at being in charge. They wouldn’t respect me—trust me on that
one.”

“But you don’t doubt that they respect me, yeah? I will make it very clear that disrespecting you
is the same as disrespecting me. You won’t have any problems.”

One objection shot down. How many others could Lalo take out? “What would happen to Mr.
White?”

“He’ll stay here, still cooking for me for our agreed rate. I’ll find a new assistant for him.”

Another one, gone. Jesse bit his lip. “He’s not going to like that.”

“What gives a shit what he likes?” Lalo squeezed his arm. “C’mon, I know you can do it!”

It was starting to sound less crazy. “Where would I live?”

“With me, of course.”

Jesse was too stunned to speak. Was Lalo actually asking him to move in?

“Picture this.” Lalo put a hand on his back and gestured with the other, as if he could conjure the
image. “After miles of harsh desert, you come across a beautiful oasis of green. There, behind
walls safe enough to protect a king’s castle, is my humble hacienda—but not too humble. Your
wish will be the desire of every one of your servants—including me, of course. There’s a
beautifully blue pool, a garage full of luxury cars, ponies—do you like ponies, tesorito?”

“Um. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pony in real life.”

Lalo clutched his hands to his heart. “¡Eso es una tragedia! We must fix that. It will be good to
get you out of the city and breathing fresh air. It’s the best thing for your health.”

Jesse didn’t know what to say. “And you have a lab out there?”

Lalo wrinkled his nose. “Right by my hacienda? No. I would find a nice place for you to stay
while you’re on a cook. But you’d always come home to me in between.”

Home? Jesse’s heart beat faster. “What about my house?”

“We’ll sell it.”

Jesse shook his head. “No way. You don’t know what I’ve been through to get this house.”

Lalo opened his arms. “Then we’ll rent it out!”

Jesse was running out of excuses, but he needed Lalo to be clearer. “So what, exactly, are you
asking me?”

Lalo took Jesse’s hands again. “I’m asking you to be mine.”

Jesse’s stomach flipped. “Your what?”

Lalo shrugged a little and smiled. “Just—mine. As I’ve said before, things are complicated for a
man in my position. What’s between us can’t be spoken out loud to others. But I can make you a
few promises.”

Jesse swallowed. “Like what?”

“I promise to always protect and take care of you. I will treat you like the treasure you are, and
do what I can to make you happy. How does that sound?”

It sounded pretty fucking good—too good to be true. Why did it feel like there was a catch in
there somewhere? “As long as I continue to cook for you, that is,” he said.

“What, you want to be my pampered little pooch instead of working like a man?”

Well, when he put it that way… “I guess not.”

“So then you work! It’s as simple as that. There is only one promise that I want from you—and I
take promises very seriously, tesorito, so don’t make one to me unless you mean it.”

Jesse’s stomach clenched. Here it came—the catch. “What is it?”

“When I tell you not to worry about something, you must promise to do as you’re told.” He
smiled. “Leave all the worrying to me, yeah?”

Jesse blinked. “That’s it?”

Lalo held his hands up, like a magician showing there was nothing up his sleeves. “That’s it.”
Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. He felt dizzy with how fast this was happening. “Can I think
about it?”

“Of course—it’s a big decision. I’m sure there are people here you would miss.”

But there weren’t any. Jane was dead. His parents hated him, which meant he had no possibility
of a relationship with his brother. Other than Badger and Skinny Pete, was there anyone in
Albuquerque who gave a shit about him?

Well. There was one. “Mr. White is not going to like this.”

“Who gives a shit? What’s he going to do—come after me?”

That’s exactly what Jesse thought, but he didn’t want to say it. If he told Lalo that Mr. White
might try to poison him or blow him up or whatever crazy thing his evil genius brain could
scheme up, Lalo might decide it would be better to kill him now. In spite of everything that had
happened, Jesse didn’t want that. He’d just have to convince him going after Lalo wasn’t worth
it.

“Well?” Lalo prompted when Jesse didn’t answer. “Do you think there’s any way he could take
me out?”

Jesse smiled weakly. “I guess not.”

Lalo cocked his head and gave Jesse a long look he couldn’t quite read. Then he cupped his face
gently. “I’ve never known anyone like you,” he murmured. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
He leaned forward for a kiss.

Miss him? Jesse’s heart dropped into his stomach at the thought of saying goodbye. And really,
what was there to think about? He’d already established that the one person who might miss him
had a weird psychosexual obsession with him. He had no job prospects on either side of the law
—he couldn’t cook meth on Lalo’s turf if he turned him down, and in spite of Mr. White’s earlier
encouragement towards making something of himself by going to college, he was pretty sure
he’d be a shit student. What else did he have going for him, other than Lalo?

He broke the kiss. “Yes,” he said, a little breathless.

Lalo’s eyebrows raised. “You mean, yes to being mine?” When Jesse nodded, he continued.
“You’re sure? Don’t you want to think about it some more?”

“Why? There’s nothing here for me but bad memories. I want to be with you.” The grin on his
face probably looked ridiculous, but he didn’t care, especially since Lalo’s smile was just as
goofy.

“You mean it? Reallly?”

“Yeah—how many times do I have to say it?”

“Oh, once more, at least!” Lalo pulled him to his feet and then lifted him up. Jesse let out a yelp
as Lalo spun him around, and soon they were both laughing. When Lalo set him down, he
threaded his fingers through Jesse’s hair and leaned in close, their lips only a breath apart. “Tell
me again, tesorito,” he breathed. “Tell me again that you’re mine.”

Jesse’s heart fluttered. “I’m yours.”

“Mine,” Lalo said, a low note of possessiveness deepening his voice, and fuck that was hot. Jesse
closed the gap between them, the way he had their first time together, and then they were
kissing. A strange, giddy joy bubbled through his veins, along with relief. It was all settled now.
No more worries.

The ringing of his phone burst that bubble—seemed like his biggest worry was trying to get a
hold of him. He pulled away from Lalo so he could take his phone out of his pocket to confirm
it.

“That him?” Lalo asked. At Jesse’s nod, he held out his hand. “I want to talk to him.”

Jesse hesitated. “You aren’t going to tell him yet, are you?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He held out his hand further. “Come on—give it to me.”

Reluctantly, Jesse handed it over. Maybe it was better to let Lalo rip off the Band-Aid, and then
he and Mr. White could talk once he’d had a little time to get used to the idea.

Yeah, right.

Lalo took the phone and walked to the other end of the room as he answered it. “Walter! How’s
it going?” A pause. “Jesse is fine—no thanks to you, from what he’s told me.” Another pause.
“He doesn’t want to talk to you. Shouldn’t you be trying to patch things up with your wife
first?”

Lalo held the phone away from his ear as Mr. White went on a tirade Jesse could hear from
across the room, even if he couldn’t make out the words. He laughed a little. “I have no idea
what you’re talking about, man.” Whatever he said made Lalo laugh harder. “You’ve got a
twisted mind—anyone ever tell you that?” A pause. “I already told you he doesn’t want to talk
to you, and he’ll be staying with me in case you were thinking about going to his house to harass
him.”

Jesse blinked. When had that been decided?

“We’ll talk again when you can be civil,” Lalo continued. “But if you can’t be nice, then this
conversation is over.” He shut the phone with a snap…and a smirk.

“What did he say?” Jesse asked.

Lalo ran a hand over his mouth, but the smirk was still there when he removed it. “About what
you’d expect.”

So, lots of threats and accusations, then. “Can I be the one to break it to him?” Jesse asked.

“If that’s what you want. The three of us can have a conversation once he’s had the chance to
cool down.”
“Okay.” He folded his arms. “So, I’m staying here?”

“I think that’s best for now. He won’t leave you alone otherwise—I know the type.”

Jesse’s grip around himself tightened. Lalo was probably right, but it still felt weird to not be
able to go home.

“Hey,” Lalo said gently. He opened his arms. “Come here.”

Jesse hesitated, but only for a moment. Lalo’s arms closed around him. “Everything is going to
be all right—I promise.” He kissed his forehead, then put a finger on Jesse’s chin and lifted it to
take another look at his neck. “I can’t believe he bit you. He’s really worked up, huh?” And then
he snickered.

Jesse stared at him. He thought this was funny?

“I’ll send one of my cousins over to get your things,” Lalo continued. “Can I see your keys?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, handing them over.

Lalo tossed them up a little and snatched them out of the air. “I’ll just tell him to grab all your
clothes while he’s at it. You’re going to have to pack anyway.”

“Right,” Jesse said, but something felt very off all of a sudden.

As if on cue, the cousins reappeared. Lalo gestured to one of them. “Marco and I have to take
care of a few things, but Leonel will stay here with you to keep you safe.”

He was leaving him alone with one of the alligators? That didn’t feel very safe at all, but what
could he say? “Okay.”

To Jesse’s surprise, Lalo kissed him in front of his cousins. “They’re family,” he said when Jesse
pulled away, answering the question in his shocked expression. “We don’t keep secrets from
each other. And now you’re family, too! A little scrawny for a Salamanca, but we’ll fatten you
up.” His smile flipped into a stern frown. “You better stop that right now.”

“Stop what?” Jesse asked, bewildered.

“Worrying.” Lalo kissed him again. “You leave that to me, remember? I’ll be back as soon as I
can. Put on a movie or something—Leonel loves anything with romance.”

It wasn’t until Lalo was out the door that Jesse realized he’d taken his phone, too.

Leonel sat back on the sofa and reached for the remote. He turned the TV on and flipped to the
Hallmark Channel, then looked at Jesse expectantly.

“Uh—I’m not feeling great so I’m just going to lie down.”

Leonel shrugged and got the knife back out of his pocket. He started sharpening it again as the
movie of the week came back from commercial break.
 Jesse fled up the stairs to Lalo’s room and locked the door behind him. He paced the room for a
minute, then went to the window and parted the curtains. The roof seemed climbable. Should he
try to get out the window? But why would he, when he’d just agreed to move in with Lalo? He
still wanted to—things were just moving really, really fucking fast.

He sank to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. He just had the jitters, was all. It
was a big decision. It would be weird if he didn’t feel any regrets, right?

Not that any regrets would be worth having, since he was pretty sure they didn’t matter at this
point. He might as well try to do as Lalo asked and not worry—it didn’t seem like he had any
other choice.

Chapter End Notes

Uh-oh, Jesse - what have you gotten yourself into? Next up - another cameo as Walt makes
plans to strike back.
 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes

Thanks for your patience, everyone! I was a little blocked on this, but I think I've got it all
untangled. Minor point, but I've decided Lalo didn't take Jesse's car last chapter, just his
keys, so I've changed that.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Saul said. “I made a mistake.”

Walt scowled. They were in Saul’s office—Walt had camped out overnight to make sure Saul
couldn’t avoid him. The look on his face had been comical when he saw Walt waiting for him.

The situation was less comical now.

“And how, praytell, do you mistakenly tell my wife that there’s an emergency and she needs to
come over right away?”

Saul steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. He was wearing a hideous purple suit and
a ribbon commiserating the crash of flight of Wayfarer 515, which Walt found distasteful. He
really was the ultimate ambulance chaser. “I got a panicked call from a mystery number—the
reception was awful so I couldn’t tell who it was. It sounded like my mystery caller said, ‘Tell
Skyler to come over right now, it’s urgent.’ But actually, it was another client of mine who has a
boyfriend called Tyler. Lovely couple, but a lot of drama. You know how the gays are.”

Walt stared at him. “Do you honestly think that I’m going to believe such obvious bullshit?”
Saul wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I don’t know what to tell you. That’s what happened.”

Walt slammed a fist on his desk, causing Saul to jump. “That’s not what happened! I know that
he told you to call her.”

“And who might that be?”

“Lalo Salamanca.”

Was it just his imagination, or had Saul gone pale? “Never heard of him.”

Walt scoffed. “Oh, come on! You expect me to believe that you, the most notorious criminal
lawyer in the Southwest, have never heard of Lalo Salamanca?”

At the name, Saul winced—definitely not his imagination. “You’re a liar, Saul, and a bad one.
And I’m not leaving here until you tell me the truth.”

To Walt’s surprise, Saul laughed—a bitter sound. “Hypothetically speaking, let’s say I know this
Lalo person. Why on God’s green earth would I be more scared of you than I am of him?
Hypothetically speaking.”

He had a point. Walt tempered his tone. “Just—tell me it was him. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind, so why ask me?”

Walt took that as a tacit admission. He rubbed his temple. “Look—Jesse is in trouble. Lalo has
him right now, and I need to get him back.”

Surprisingly, Saul looked concerned. “He’s holding him hostage? Hypothetically?”

“Well—not exactly,” Walt was forced to admit. “He’s got Jesse’s head all mixed up, and I think
he took his phone. I just need to get into contact with Jesse, so if there’s anything you can do to
point me to where I might be able to find him…”

“No offense, Walt, but that is the stupidest thing you have ever said. Point the first”—he began
counting out on his fingers—“we’ve already established that you aren’t the scariest person in
this situation, and you aren’t the richest either. Why should I help you? Point the second—what
do you plan on doing, huh? You gonna go in, guns blazing? Kinda sounds like Jesse wouldn’t go
along with it anyway, assuming you had any shot of ‘rescuing’ him, which you don’t, because
point the third—you are no match for this hypothetical person. Like, at all.”

“And maybe he doesn’t have any idea of what I’m capable of.”

Saul rolled his eyes. “Okay, tough guy. Whatever you say.” He softened a little. “Look, I know
you probably don’t want my advice, but I’m giving it to you anyway, free of charge. Let it go.
Try to be useful to him—if he finds you more useful alive than dead, he might spare you.”

This was pointless. Walt stood. “You won’t help me? Fine. I’ll figure out a way. Unlike you, I’m
not a coward.”
Saul’s face reddened. “I’m not a coward. I’m a cockroach. You know—born survivor.” His voice
dropped to a mumble, more to himself than Walt. “However much that’s worth, which doesn’t
feel like a lot sometimes.”

“I have better things to do than sit around listening to your self-pity. Like saving Jesse, if you
can’t be bothered.” He started to stomp out of the room, but as he got to the doorway, Saul called
out to him.

“So why was it such a big deal that Skyler came over? You seem pretty upset by whatever
happened.”

Walt scowled. “That’s none of your business!” He left without a backward glance.

He calmed down a little when he was in the car. Saul was correct—Walt didn’t need his
confirmation to know he was right. And getting Saul to give him Lalo’s address was a long shot.
He would just have to think of some other way to find Jesse. Every second they were apart,
Lalo’s grip would grow stronger.

Even now, he must be whispering in Jesse’s ear, turning him against him. If he could just talk to
Jesse and explain things, everything would be all right. Skyler was a problem that would have to
wait—Jesse was the one in danger. He would get Jesse back, no matter what it took.

---

When Jesse woke up, Lalo still hadn’t returned.

He hadn’t gotten much sleep, but he must have nodded off at some point because he was
awakened by a knock on the door—Leonel greeted him and indicated for Jesse to follow him
downstairs. He’d made breakfast—mouth-watering chilaquiles. Jesse guessed cooking ran in the
family.

Wordlessly—because Leonel did everything wordlessly—he put a plate together for Jesse and
set it on the kitchen table. After a brief moment of internal debate, Jesse sat down. He was
hungry—might as well eat.

Leonel made a plate for himself and sat across from Jesse. They ate in silence, which Jesse felt
compelled to break. He never could stand the quiet.

“So, uh, when do you think Lalo and your brother will be back?”

“Soon,” Leonel grunted.

So he could talk. Jesse hadn’t really expected an answer.

Sure enough, the front door opened about five minutes later. Lalo and Marco appeared in the
kitchen doorway.

“There he is!” Lalo said. He bent down and gave Jesse a kiss on the cheek, then looked over at
the stove. His face lit up. “Oooh, breakfast!” He joined Marco in making a plate.
Jesse flushed with irritation—Lalo didn’t seem sorry at all that he trapped Jesse in the house,
taking away his phone and his keys and leaving a guard to make sure he couldn’t leave.

“Where were you?” he asked when Lalo sat down.

“Doing some reconnaissance.”

“For what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Jesse had the feeling he was going to hear a lot of that. “Can I have my phone and my keys
back?”

“Ah, yes!” Lalo took Jesse’s phone out of his pocket. “I’m sorry—I hadn’t realized I’d walked
away with it until I had already left.” He held it out to Jesse.

He cautiously accepted it. Was that true, or was Lalo blowing smoke up his ass? “And my
keys?”

Lalo gestured with his chin to Marco, who removed the keys from his pocket and tossed them to
Jesse; he barely caught them.

“We brought over your clothes and some essentials,” Lalo said. “They’re in the car. We’ll bring
it in later.”

He was moved out already? His heart sped up. He needed to get out of this fucking house, to
clear his head. Would Lalo let him? He stood. “I’m going to see some of my friends—to say
goodbye.” It came out a little more aggressively than he intended.

Lalo took a bite of his breakfast. “Sure.”

That surprised him. “You aren’t going to stop me?”

“Why would I? You aren’t a prisoner.”

Jesse was confused. Had he read the situation completely wrong? “Right. Uh. I’ll see you later,
then.”

“Don’t be too late, tesorito. I don’t want to have to come find you.”

His tone was mild, but Jesse couldn’t help but feel his words were a little ominous.

Jesse left. As he drove, he turned the situation over and over in his mind, trying to make sense of
it. Maybe Lalo really had taken his phone by accident, and Lalo had asked for his keys
specifically to pack some things for him, not to deny him access to his car. At least, he thought
so. He didn’t like that Lalo had left him alone all night, but then again—Jesse had shown up
unexpectedly. Did Jesse expect him to drop his plans just because he turned up crying? Maybe
he overreacted. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Still. Something felt really wrong. He wasn’t a prisoner, like Lalo said, but he wasn’t exactly
free either, was he? He’d made a promise to Lalo. He agreed to be his. What would happen if he
told Lalo he’d changed his mind? It kinda seemed like a no-takebacks sort of deal.

I don’t want to have to come find you, Lalo had said. Which implied that he definitely would if
Jesse didn’t come back on time. Lalo didn’t need to lock him up. There was no escape.

Not that he wanted to escape.

At least, he didn’t think so.

***

Badger and Skinny Pete accepted the news with their usual muddled cheerfulness. He decided
not to tell them about his and Lalo’s romantic relationship—he just said he was moving to
Mexico for a business opportunity. They were thrilled for him and made plans to visit, which
Jesse went along with, but he didn’t think that Lalo was likely to want them as houseguests. He
guessed he could always visit them, but he also wasn’t sure if that would be allowed either.

He left still feeling uneasy and a little disappointed at their easy acceptance. A part of him was
hoping they’d try to talk him out of it.

Instead of going back to Lalo’s, Jesse drove around aimlessly, trying to get his thoughts in order.
He stopped at Taco Bell for lunch and ate it in his car. When he was finished, he got out his
phone and stared at it. Lots of missed calls from Mr. White. He checked his voicemail—it was
completely full, all messages from Mr. White, each more desperate than the last.

Not one of them contained an apology, though.

Jesse bit his lip. He shouldn’t call him. He and Lalo had already agreed that they’d talk to him
together. But he sounded so worried. And he was going to freak out when he heard the news.
Maybe it would be better if Jesse softened the blow first.

He made the call. Mr. White picked up on the first ring.

“Jesse, thank God! Are you okay? Where are you? Still with him?”

“Uh, no. I’m at Taco Bell.”

“Taco Bell? The one on Montgomery? Stay put, I’m on my way—”

Jesse rubbed his face. “No, don’t. Look, I’m just calling to let you know I’m okay.”

“You are not okay. Not as long as he has his claws in you. But don’t worry, I have a plan. Now,
just tell me where you are—”

“No,” he said more forcefully. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Jesse, listen to me. You aren’t thinking clearly. He’s gotten into your head, but you know he’s
bad news.”

“Worse news than you? Cuz he’s never held me down and bit me.”

A pause. “Maybe I got a little carried away, but I don’t think it’s fair to—”
Oh my God. “And he doesn’t have a wife he’s lying to me about.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve never lied to you about Skyler.”

“Yes you fucking did! You told me that the two of you were done, but I saw the look on her face.
She sure as shit didn’t look like someone who knew that her marriage was over. Her heart was
fucking broken. Thanks, by the way, for making me a part of that.”

“Don’t worry about Skyler. I will handle it.”

“Handle it how? Tell her a bunch of lies about me so you can have us both? Because that was
your plan the whole time, huh? You wanted to make me your side piece, but still have wifey and
the kids to go home to. Oh, and I listened to all of your voice messages and not a single fucking
one of them had an apology.”

Silence.

Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose. This had been a bad idea. “Look, I wanted you to know that
I’m okay. Now you do, so I’m hanging up.”

“I’m not sorry,” Mr. White said quickly.

Jesse really should have hung up at that, but he was too gobsmacked. “Did you just say you’re
not sorry?”

“Well—I am sorry if I came on too strong, but I won’t apologize for telling you how I feel, no
matter how badly things turned out. I wasn’t lying about my marriage being over—"

Jesse snorted. "Yeah, I’ll bet it is now.”

“I’m choosing you over her,” he said.

Jesse’s breath caught. It had to be bullshit…but the way he said it was so certain, like he was
stating some scientific fact.

Mr. White continued. “From the moment we met, I’ve chosen you over her. Otherwise we
wouldn’t be here right now.”

Was it true? “Why?”

“She doesn’t know me like you do. She isn’t capable of it, because I have had to hide from her.
Not just since my diagnosis—for our whole marriage. And I’ve been hiding from myself, if I’m
honest. But then I found you, and you found me—the real me. Of course I choose you. How
could I do anything else?”

Jesse blinked back tears, too overwhelmed to respond. Either it was the most audacious bullshit
Mr. White had ever tried to pull on him, or it was true. Both options made his stomach hurt. He
swallowed and found his voice. “No offense, Mr. White, but the real you is a huge fucking
asshole.”
He expected a furious comeback, but instead, Mr. White chuckled. “You’ve got me there. I used
to think that was a bad thing, but that’s just the word people use for people who go after what
they want with no apology. Or almost no apology.” His voice became softer. “I’m sorry, Jesse.
I’ll say it as many times as you want.”

Jesse wiped his nose on his sleeve. His whole chest ached. “Even if you mean that, so what? I’m
with Lalo now.” Should he tell him now that he was leaving? He decided he didn’t want to have
that fight yet. “Like, we’re committed.”

“Do you love him?”

Jesse hesitated. “Yeah,” he said, but it was a beat too late.

“Then say it.”

“What?”

“Say, ‘I love Lalo.’”

Jesse’s mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out.

“That’s what I thought. Now say you don’t love me.” His voice was dark now, both sour and
sweet like red wine. “You can’t, can you?” he asked when Jesse still hadn’t responded.

“Fuck you.”

“You can’t trust him, Jesse. You know I’m right. Why did he take your phone?”

“He didn’t do it on purpose. It was just in his hands when he left.”

“But he did take it, didn’t he?” Mr. White said, triumphant. “I knew it—I knew you weren’t
ignoring me. He took your keys too, didn’t he? Oh, but I’m sure that was an ‘accident’, too.”

No, but that was only because Jesse had forked them over the minute Lalo asked. Shit. “Yeah,
well, he gave them back.”

“Jesse, listen to me—however you feel about me, running to Lalo is not the answer. He’s toying
with you—with both of us. I spoke to Saul and he all but confirmed that Lalo ordered him to call
Skyler and tell her there was an emergency, ensuring that she would catch us together.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense. How the fuck would he know?”

“Obviously, he’s having my house watched. As soon as his spies saw your car pull into my
driveway, they alerted him, and then he called Saul and told him to tell Skyler I needed to see
her immediately.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jesse said. “I meant, how the fuck would he know that you were
going to make a pass at me?”

“I didn’t ‘make a pass’ at you,” Mr. White said testily. “I declared my love. And Lalo knows
how I feel about you—he’s known it from the start. That’s why he seduced you. This was his
plan all along.”
“Plan for what?”

Mr. White paused. “I haven’t figured it out yet. But I will. He’s broken us apart. That’s for a
reason. And now he has you doing exactly what he wants you to do.”

The world reeled. Was it possible that Mr. White was right? Didn’t Lalo seem too good to be
true? Especially now that Jesse agreed to cook for him in Mexico. Was that what this was about
the whole time? Splitting up him and Mr. White so he could get two labs running? Plus making
Jesse fall for him would be a good tactic to ensure his loyalty. He felt like throwing up.

Or was that just Mr. White getting in his head again? He had a way of twisting things until Jesse
wasn’t sure which thoughts were his and which were really Mr. White’s.

“Shit,” Mr. White said suddenly, as if something had just occurred to him. “I’ll bet he’s tapped
your phone. We should stop talking—if you just tell me where you are, we can speak in person.”

Jesse wiped his eyes again—he couldn’t take this anymore. “I’m hanging up for real and I won’t
pick up again. Since you already filled up my voicemail like a total psycho, you’re just going to
have to wait until I’m ready to hear whatever new bullshit you’ve cooked up for me.”

“It’s not bullshit. Jesse, I love—”

Jesse hung up before Mr. White could finish. After turning the phone off, he threw it at the
windshield. It bounced off and smacked him in the face, making him yelp. God, he was such an
idiot—possibly the stupidest person on the whole fucking planet. Why had he called? It just left
him feeling even more mixed up than before.

Could he trust either of them? And if he couldn’t—what the fuck was he supposed to do?

___

In the end, Jesse returned to Lalo’s house. Where else could he go?

“There he is!” Lalo called out as Jesse entered the front door. He and his cousins were in the
living room, watching TV. Lalo got up to greet him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He frowned.
“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Especially nothing he wanted to get into while Lalo’s creepy cousins were staring at
them.

Lalo looked over his shoulder at his cousins, then made a motion with his head. They stood in
unison and left the room.

Lalo led Jesse over to the couch and switched the TV off. “Let’s not play games, tesorito. I can
tell something has upset you. Your eyes are red—have you been crying?”

Shit, were they? Jesse rubbed at one reflexively. “Maybe I was smoking weed.”

Lalo just gave him a look.

Jesse rubbed his neck. If he told Lalo he’d called Mr. White, how angry would he get? And
would that anger fall on him, or Mr. White?

In the end, he didn’t have to decide. “You talked to him, didn’t you?” Lalo asked, his tone
neutral.

Jesse bit his lip. “Are you mad?”

Lalo shook his head. “No. Truth be told, I’m not surprised.” He patted Jesse’s hand. “Well, what
did he have to say?”

“He thinks that you told Saul to send his wife over to catch us together.”

Lalo’s brow furrowed. “Wait, he said what? I don’t understand.”

“Mr. White says that Saul called his wife to get her to go over to his place because of an
emergency. He said you’re having his house watched and they called you when they saw my car
pull up, and then you called Saul and gave the order for him to call her.” It sounded really
convoluted now that he said it out loud.

Lalo’s brow only furrowed further. “And I would know that he planned on trying to seduce you,
how, exactly? Does your Mr. White think I can read his mind?”

“Right? It doesn’t make sense!” Jesse relaxed a little. It really was a crazy idea, now that he had
a chance to think about it without Mr. White in his ear. Just more bullshit, after all. “He thinks
I’m so fucking stupid that I’ll swallow anything!”

Lalo rubbed circles on his back. “What else?”

Jesse rubbed his nose. “Oh, not much—just, y’know, that he’s deeply in love with me,
apparently, and maybe we’re soul mates or something.”

Lalo snorted. “How romantic.”

Yeah, a little too romantic, now that he thought about it. Jesse put his head in his hands. “Fuck
my life.”

“Hey.” Lalo cupped his cheek and encouraged him to sit up straight. “I’m going to set up a
meeting for the three of us tomorrow to sort things out. But let’s put him out of our heads for
now, yeah? Let’s not give a self-proclaimed asshole like him any more of our attention than he
deserves. You want to catch a movie?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Jesse said, although something nagged at him.

Lalo gave him a kiss and stood. “I’ll go make that call, and then we can go.”

It wasn’t until Lalo left that Jesse realized what was bothering him. Self-proclaimed asshole.
Had Mr. White declared himself an asshole to Lalo before? Because otherwise, calling Mr.
White “self-proclaimed” didn’t make a lot of sense.
 That is, unless he heard their most recent conversation. Was Mr. White right about Lalo tapping
his phone?

Jesse shook himself out of it. That was just Mr. White’s paranoia still infecting his thoughts. At
least, that’s what he decided for now. Because the other option was too scary for him to think
about.

Chapter End Notes

Next time - Walt, Lalo, and Jesse go out for a very awkward dinner, and Walt makes his
stupidest move yet.

Like I said, I had to fiddle with the outline a little, but it's straightened out now so I will try

Be Here, which, uh, also features Lalo leading a hapless young man astray.
running out of hapless young men - maybe I'll write a Lalo/Lyle epic next)
😅
to have more regular updates again. I'm also currently updating my Lalo/Ciro AU Lucky to
(I think I'm
 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes

I'm back, baby! Thanks for your patience. I owe replies on a few comments which I'll be
getting to soon. But first, new chapter! This one has another very special cameo...

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Lalo suggested meeting for lunch at Garduño’s, a Mexican restaurant. The suggestion of a
restaurant surprised Walt, although it probably shouldn’t have. A public place was better for
dirty deals than, for example, an isolated junkyard where a crazed Salamanca could beat a man
to death because there were no bystanders to get in the way. Tuco taught him that lesson. But a
part of him still felt strange crossing the criminal world with the mundane. This was the same
restaurant where he and Skyler and Hank and Marie went for double dates sometimes. Walt
liked their margaritas.

The restaurant was bustling when Walt arrived—the cheerful chatter and jaunty Mexican tunes
would no doubt mask their conversation from prying ears, but it was so discordant with Walt’s
mood that he already had a headache. The hostess—a pretty, petite blonde—greeted him. “Are
you Walt, by chance?” At Walt’s nod, her smile widened. “Your friends beat you here! They told
me to keep an eye out for you.” She gestured. “Right this way!”

Walt followed her through the busy dining room to one of the booths in the back. Lalo and Jesse
were sitting on the same side of the booth, with Jesse on the inside. They made an odd pair—
Lalo in a blue button-down, faded jeans, and cowboy boots, and Jesse in a sweatshirt covered in
skulls that was three times too big for him, jeans so baggy he was practically swimming in them,
and a black beanie. They made no sense whatsoever as a couple. Still, it was evident they were a
couple. Lalo’s arm was draped casually on the back of the booth, and he was saying something
in Jesse’s ear.

No one would ever mistake them for a father and son.

Lalo caught sight of Walt first and gave him a brief smirk before standing. His silver belt buckle
was the size of a child’s fist. “Walter—thank you for meeting us.” He held out his hand.

The Walter. The Us. It set Walt’s teeth on edge. Still, he found himself taking Lalo’s hand out of
reflex.

They sat. Walt met Jesse’s gaze briefly, but Jesse quickly turned his attention to the chips and
salsa.

The waiter, a peppy young man named Trent, took their drink orders. Once he was gone, Lalo
cleared his throat. “We might as well get down to business. I’m starting a new lab in Mexico,
and Jesse is coming with me to help get production going.”

Walt blinked several times, too stunned to speak. Whatever he had been expecting, it hadn’t
been that. He looked to Jesse to try to gauge how he felt about this frankly insane idea, but Jesse
was still avoiding his gaze.

“I will, of course, find another assistant for you,” Lalo continued. “Nothing else will change. I
will continue to honor my end of our deal as long as you honor yours.”

“No,” Walt said emphatically, finding his voice at last. “Absolutely not. For one thing, Jesse is
not capable of running a lab.”

“I think he is. I’ve been watching you for weeks. Your cooks always go off without a hitch.”

“Yes, because I have a PhD in chemistry, which Jesse most definitely does not. He needs me.”

Lalo shrugged. “I guess I have more faith in his abilities than you do.”

Walt gritted his teeth. He’d walked right into that. “I have every faith in Jesse’s abilities,” he said
as evenly as he could manage. “But the fact remains that my recipe is much more exacting than
the average meth cook. Now, Jesse has been a very diligent pupil, but a few months is nothing in
comparison with my years of experience and education. I mean, at the very least, it’s a safety
hazard.”

“He’ll have help. Believe it or not, Walter, but we do have chemists in Mexico.” Lalo rested his
arm on the back of the booth again—a casual display of his possession of Jesse, clearly meant to
rankle. He even waggled his eyebrows.

“Not very good ones if they need a high school dropout to instruct them,” Walt snapped back
without thinking.

Jesse, who had spent the whole conversation so far looking unsure and uncomfortable, suddenly
sat up straight, anger sparking in his eyes. “I graduated from high school, dick! No thanks to you
since you tried to flunk me.”
Shit. “That isn’t what I meant—”

“Oh yeah? Well, please explain to me what you did mean, because clearly I’m too stupid to
figure it out.”

Walt stuttered as he tried to think of a way to dig himself out of this hole. “Look, I phrased it
poorly but my point stands. Running a lab is dangerous, complicated work, and—”

“This isn’t a debate, Walter,” Lalo interrupted. “We’re informing you as a courtesy. Jesse is
coming with me.”

Walt’s heart started to race. This couldn’t be happening. He refused to let it happen. He met
Lalo’s smug gaze head-on. “He doesn’t love you.”

“Yo, what the fuck!?” Jesse exclaimed.

But Lalo didn’t react at all. He simply held Walt’s gaze, the intensity in his eyes a mismatch to
his lazy smile. Clearly, he was trying to intimidate him. Walt stared right back.

Jesse hit his fist on the table, getting both of their attention. “Our relationship is none of your
fucking business!”

Walt ignored him. “You’ve managed to hide what you are from him for now, but you’ll slip up,
sooner or later, and he’ll see you for who you are.”

Just then, their peppy waiter arrived with their drinks. “Your Modelo, sir,” he said, putting the
beer in front of Lalo, then turned to Jesse. “And here’s a nice, refreshing Coke for you.” He
turned to Walt last. “And our world-famous strawberry margarita for you—getting the weekend
started right!”

Walt stared at the ridiculously pink drink in front of him. “I didn’t order the strawberry
margarita,” he said, annoyed. “I ordered a regular margarita.”

“I’m so sorry, sir—I’ll get that replaced right away.” Trent started to take it, but Lalo put a hand
on his, stopping him.

“No, leave it. I want to give it a try. I mean, if it’s world famous, it’s got to be good, right?” He
flashed him a smile.

Trent looked a little flustered. “Uh, yeah. You’ll have to let me know how you like it.”

“I will.” Lalo winked, which made him even more flustered. Was he flirting with the waiter? In
front of Jesse? What a creep.

Trent recovered and pulled a pad from his apron. “Now, what can I get started for you?”

Neither Walt nor Jesse said anything, but Lalo picked up the menu as if everything was
completely normal. “Let’s see—I think you were looking at the taco platter, right, tesorito?
Chicken or beef?” he said to Jesse, who was slouched in his seat with his arms crossed tightly
over his chest. At Jesse’s shrug, Lalo said, “He’ll have the carne asada.”
Tesorito. That was the second time he heard Lalo call Jesse that. Clearly a term of endearment.
He wondered what it meant.

Lalo glanced at the menu again. “And I will have the enchiladas—extra spicy, por favor.”

“You got it!” Trent scribbled the orders down. “And you, sir?”

Did Lalo actually intend on them having a meal together after all of this? What was there left to
be said? Well, he wasn’t going to be the first to leave. Lalo was probably hoping he’d storm off.
“I’ll also have the tacos.”

“I need a cigarette,” Jesse mumbled once Trent had left. Lalo got out so that Jesse could leave.

Lalo slid back in the booth, then picked the strawberry garnish off his drink. He bit into it and let
out a little moan. “That’s good. I’ve always loved strawberries, especially with cream.”

Jesus, did he need to make it sound so sexual? An image popped into his mind of Lalo feeding
Jesse strawberries...which was no doubt the intent. He suppressed a scowl.

Lalo popped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “I was watching some nature
documentary the other night,” he said when he was done chewing. “You know why fruit is so
sweet?”

“To attract animals in order to spread seeds,” Walt said.

Lalo snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “Exactamente—it wants to be devoured.” He gave
him a teeth-baring smile. He wasn’t even a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was a wolf in wolf’s
clothing. Why couldn’t Jesse see it? Or maybe it was hard to see when the wolf’s teeth were
already on your throat.

A new feeling bubbled up from under his anger—fear. Not for himself, but for Jesse. Jesse, who
would be helpless without him. Jesse, who had already paid the price for so many of his sins.
Once Lalo had him fully in his clutches, he would have no chance for escape. He was no match
for Lalo.

But Walt was.

“If you want someone to teach your chemists in Mexico, I’ll do it,” he said. “You should take me
instead. He doesn’t deserve whatever you have planned for him.”

“What do you think I’m going to do with him? Lock him in a lab? Keep him in chains?” He
leaned forward, that wolfish grin somehow growing even toothier. “Now, why would I do that
when I can keep him in my bed? No chains required, except maybe the occasional pair of furry
handcuffs.”

It took everything in him not to throw himself across the table and strangle him. “And when
you’re finished toying with him?”

Lalo leaned back and shrugged. “Who says I’m toying with him?”
Walt scoffed. “Oh please. He’s not here—you can drop the act. You are using Jesse to get my
formula with the bonus of tormenting me.”

“Not everything is about you, Walter.”

“Maybe not. But this is. You have no feelings for him. I don’t think you have feelings at all.”

To Walt’s surprise, the barb seemed to hit—at least, Lalo’s smile disappeared. He opened his
mouth as if to retort, but then his gaze shifted to over Walt’s shoulder. The smile was back, but it
was polite.

Walt turned around to see who Lalo was smiling at—and he froze in horror.

It was Hank.

“Walt! I thought that was you.” Hank clapped hard on the back, forcing a cough out of him.
“Who’s your friend?”

Walt’s mind raced as he tried to think of a lie, but Lalo beat him to it. He held out his hand. “I’m
Ben. And you are…?”

Hank took his hand and shook it. “Hank Schrader. Walt’s brother-in-law.”

“Ah, the DEA agent. Of course!”

Walt’s horror deepened. He knew who Hank was?

“Oh, so my reputation proceeds me! Whatever this knucklehead’s been telling you isn’t true,
except for the good stuff.” He chuckled at his own joke, then cocked his head. “You look
familiar. Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so. But maybe you’re familiar with my work.” Lalo reached down—for a horrible
moment, Walt was afraid he was going to produce a gun and start shooting, but instead he pulled
out his wallet and took out a business card.

Hank took the card. “Benjamin Varga, CEO of Second Chances.”

“It’s a nonprofit that provides opportunities for at-risk youth,” Lalo said. “We focus on young
people with criminal records.” He gestured to Walt. “I gave a talk at the high school and your
brother-in-law reached out to me about volunteer opportunities.”

“Really? Huh.” He turned back to Walt. “I had no idea you were interested in charity work.”

Walt shrugged helplessly. What else could he do?

“Would you like to join us?” Lalo asked Hank. “I love to work with law enforcement.”

“Love to, but I’m here on a date with the wife.” He gestured with his thumb to Marie, who was
glaring absolute daggers at Walt. Walt wondered what Skyler had told her. “But I need to borrow
Walt for a sec, if that’s okay?”

“Go ahead.”
Walt followed Hank toward a small area in front of the restrooms. “Listen—I heard via Marie
that something pretty bad went down with you and Skyler the other night.”

Walt swallowed. His heart was pounding so hard that his whole body pulsed with it. “What did
she say?”

“Not much—but since you aren’t denying it, I’m gonna assume it’s true. You, uh, stepping out
on her?” When Walt struggled to answer, Hank held up his hand. “Never mind—I don’t want
details. Marie’ll be able to tell and then she’ll nag me to death. I just wanted to say that I’m not
taking sides, especially since she stepped out first. It’s been a hell of year for you two.”

“It certainly has,” Walt said when he found his voice.

Hank cleared his throat. “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll let you get back to your friend. I
think a little charity work is a great idea, by the way—dealing with other people’s problems can
put your own in perspective.”

Hank walked Walt back to the table. “It was nice meeting you, Ben,” Hank said.

“Likewise. Give me a call sometime, yeah?”

“Yeah, for sure!”

Walt waited until Hank was all the way across the room before speaking. “And what is going to
happen if he calls that number? He isn’t one of your idiot thugs—he’ll be able to sniff you out.”

“No, he’s an idiot cop. But relax—it’s all legitimate.”

Walt stared at him. “What?”

“The organization. It’s real. I’m not involved in the day-to-day, but I have a great team.”

“But…why?”

“An old enemy of mine taught me that sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight. It’s a
good way to recruit talent, too.”

Walt’s heart hadn’t stopped pounding. Lalo’s story had been so smooth, as if he’d planned it.
Come to think of it, Hank was the man who really killed Tuco. The death Lalo said he was
avenging. Maybe all this wasn’t really about him after all. He didn’t think that Lalo was stupid
enough to take out a DEA agent, but maybe he was wrong.

Lalo’s phone rang, and he answered it. Although he couldn’t hear exactly what was being said,
he recognized Jesse’s panicked squawking. “Slow down, tesorito,” Lalo said. “Uh-huh. Did he
see you? Good. All right, stay put—I’ll get our order to go.” A pause. “It would look strange for
me to walk out, mi amor. Just sit tight, yeah?”

Of course—Jesse must have seen Hank enter, but it seemed that Hank hadn’t seen him. Walt
realized that this might be the last time that he got to talk to Jesse alone. Without another word,
he got up and walked as swiftly as he could without attracting attention.
 “Where are you going?” Lalo called after him. So much for not attracting attention. Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw Hank and Marie staring at him. Hopefully they would just think that he
was running off because he was embarrassed to see them there.

Once he stepped outside, he took a quick look around and spotted Jesse standing in the alley,
practically vibrating. He joined him.

“Yo, your brother-in-law is in there! Did he see you with Lalo?”

“Yes. And Lalo had some ridiculous story about being the CEO of some charity for at-risk
youths.”

Jesse’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I think Lalo is planning an attack on Hank. He planned for Hank to see us here.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense! How would he know he’d be here?”

Walt had to think for a minute. “Maybe he bugged Hank’s house and knew he and Marie
planned a date here. Think about it—he’s the one who picked the time and the place.”

“But…why would he want that? If he’s planning on whacking him, why would he put himself
on Hank’s radar?”

“I don’t know…but there’s more going on here than meets the eye. We need to talk more. In
private. Can you get away from him?”

Jesse’s eyes were enormous, they way they got when he was uncertain. “I-I don’t know…”

He put his hands on Jesse’s shoulders. “Jesse, listen to me. I know it’s hard for you to see, but
Lalo can’t be trusted. If you don’t agree to this, we might never see each other again. Do you
really want this to be our last goodbye? Here, in some alley?”

For a terrible moment, Walt thought he would refuse, but then he looked away and rubbed his
neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll try. Where?”

Walt thought for a moment. “Your house. Go back to your house tonight, and I’ll meet you
there.”

He gave Jesse’s shoulders a squeeze before releasing him. “I’ll talk to you tonight.” He looked
around to see if anyone was watching them, then gave Jesse a quick kiss on the lips. He turned
and left without a backward glance.

That had been a risk, but he knew he was right. Jesse loved him, not Lalo. He just needed to help
Jesse realize it. And once he had his partner back by his side where he belonged, they’d stop
whatever plot Lalo had hatched.

Chapter End Notes

[Lalo voice] What's he up to, man? What's he doing?

I know the conversation about Jesse finishing high school canonically happened earlier, but
it was convenient for me to use it here lol. And this is the restaurant (and the waiter) from
ep 5x11 of Breaking Bad.

So I'm hoping to get back to regular updates - was dealing with some chronic pain issues
that left my head a little fuzzy, but I'm feeling better now. Fingers crossed it stays that way!
As always, I love hearing from you. Hope you enjoyed, and see you next time!
 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“I want to go home,” Jesse said as soon as he and Lalo had turned out of the restaurant parking
lot.

Lalo’s answer was only a vague, “Hmm.” He kept his gaze on the road.

Jesse waited another couple moments for him to say something. When he didn’t, he spoke again.
“I mean, home as in my aunt’s house. Like, I’m still going to Mexico with you. I haven’t
changed my mind.” Is that really true? He shook off the thought. “But I’m not ready to just like,
never see my aunt’s house again, you know? And Mr. White isn’t going to talk me out of
anything. I’m done with him. If he shows up, I’ll tell him to leave.”

Lalo just hummed again. Jesse couldn’t tell if it was a good hum or a bad hum.

He ran his hand through his hair. “And…I could use a minute to myself. It’s just—this has been
a lot and it’s moved really fast, and I want to make sure I have my head on straight, because
when I’m around you, I just want to do everything you say. And I don’t want to start this new
life without being sure this is what I really want, because otherwise I’ll start doubting myself,
and...” Shit, he was babbling. He took a deep breath and slowed down. “I think we owe it to our
relationship to start things off on the right foot, is all.”

Lalo’s hands flexed on the steering wheel. His face was devoid of expression, and he still wasn’t
saying anything.

“…Lalo?” Jesse said. He hated how small his voice sounded.

All at once, Lalo returned to life. “You’re completely right.” He put a hand on Jesse’s knee.
“Pobrecito! This has all been fast. I’ve frightened you, haven’t I?”
“I'm not scared,” he said, although it came out a little shaky. “I’m just—overwhelmed.”

“Understandable." Lalo squeezed his knee before letting it go. “Yes, I will take you home. I have
some things I need to take care of, anyway, so let’s make it a few days, yeah? Give you time to
settle your affairs and really think things over.”

Jesse’s relief only lasted a moment. Mr. White was still buzzing in his ear. What was the deal
with the fake charity? Did Lalo really have plans to go after Hank? Should he bring any of it up?

Well, didn’t he say he wanted to make sure he didn’t have regrets? He gathered his courage. “So
Mr. White said that you have some secret identity? That you’re the CEO of some fake charity or
some shit?”

“It’s not fake,” Lalo said, but his tone wasn’t defensive. He got his wallet out and removed a
card, then handed it to Jesse. Second Chances, it read in bold, then underneath, Benjamin
Varga. Stylized angel wings decorated one corner.

“We work with at-risk youth exiting juvenile detention,” Lalo explained.

“Yeah, but it’s like a front for something, right?”

“No.”

Weird. “So what, you just started a charity out of the kindness of your heart?”

“Is that hard to believe?”

“Well—yeah. No offense.”

Lalo laughed. “None taken. And you are right that it’s not completely altruistic. It’s an idea I got
from an old enemy of mine. He made himself into a respectable businessman—had a local fast
food franchise and used it as a cover for his drug business.”

“What restaurant?”

“Los Pollos Hermanos.”

“Oh yeah. Always wondered what happened to that place.” A couple of faint memories
resurfaced. “Wait, I think I remember seeing in the news something about that—a local
businessman killed himself.” He paused. “I’m guessing that’s not what happened.”

“Oh, he killed himself all right. You have to have a death wish to try to steal from the cartel.
Suicide by Salamanca!” He laughed at his own joke.

Jesse didn’t think that was funny.

Lalo continued, more soberly, “He was a worthy opponent. Those are in short supply these days.
But better him than me.” He shrugged. “Anyway, as a part of his businessman persona, my old
enemy was involved in a lot of charities, many of which brought him in close contact with the
police—meaning that he was able to keep an eye on things. I decided to try it for myself. It’s
been a big success.”
Jesse looked at the card again. “Benjamin Varga,” he read out loud. “So that’s you?”

Lalo nodded. “Benjamin, in honor of my brother. And Varga—for someone who could have
used a second chance.”

That last part sounded very wistful. Jesse bit his lip. “Do you really help those kids?”

“Of course! We’d lose our access if we didn’t do good work.”

“But isn’t that like, dangerous? What if they recognize you?”

“They won’t. I’m dead, you see.”

Jesse’s eyebrows shot up. “Dead? What do you mean?”

“I had to fake my death, and I was very convincing. Being dead gives you a lot of freedom—I
would have done it ages ago if I had known.”

Was he serious? He was smiling again, but Lalo was always smiling.

“Mr. White said you knew his brother-in-law.”

“Only by reputation. Second Chances works more with local police—a DEA connection could
be good.”

No mention of revenge. Did he not know Hank was the one who pulled the trigger on his
cousin? But surely he had to know, right? Did he just not care? That seemed unlikely, too. Jesse
rubbed his face. Whatever. He sure as shit wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.

They turned the corner into Jesse’s neighborhood; Lalo pulled the car into the driveway. “So I
guess this is goodbye for a couple of days.”

Jesse couldn’t put a name to the emotion churning in his stomach. “I guess.”

“You know, I think I am going to get that gift I was thinking about for you, after all.”

Jesse wasn’t sure he wanted a gift. “You don’t have to get me anything.”

“That’s where you’re wrong—I really do. Trust me, you’ll love it!” Lalo cupped a hand around
the back of Jesse’s head and pulled him in for a kiss. His grip on Jesse’s head was really strong.
Jesse kept still; he didn’t want to find out if Lalo would let him pull away.

When the kiss was over, Lalo held him for another heartbeat before releasing him and pulling
away. He rubbed his temple and shook his head, laughing a little. “¡Ay de mí! I named you well,
tesorito. You’re precious, rare…and you make people want to steal you!” He winked. "Call me
if you need me."

What did he mean by steal him?

Lalo waited for Jesse to enter the house before driving away. Jesse locked the door behind him
and slid to the floor, then hugged his knees. He felt split in two. On the one hand, Mr. White was
a manipulative piece of shit who couldn’t be trusted. But on the other hand…he was usually
right.

Lalo talked so casually of killing someone and staging a suicide. He laughed about it. And he
was legally dead—an image of Lalo as a zombie lurching after him popped into his mind.
Something wasn’t right here.

Christ, he could use some weed. He also wanted to call Skinny Pete and Badger over. But no—
both of those things were bad ideas. He needed a clear head, and he shouldn’t put Skinny Pete
and Badger in the crossfire.

Because, as usual, Jesse was in way over his head.

***

Walt drove aimlessly around town. He’d always liked to drive; it was meditative. Cleared his
head. And what he needed more than anything else right now was a clear head.

He had two priorities, and their names were Jesse and Skyler. This was not a contradiction, as
far as Walt considered. Many great men in history—indeed, probably most great men—had a
wife and a mistress. Why shouldn’t he? Or not a mistress, he supposed. What was the male
equivalent of mistress? Mister? No, that wasn’t right. The term kept boy came to mind. He liked
that a lot.

But if he was going to keep them, he needed to work quickly. Once Lalo got Jesse out of the
country, he would bury him so deep no one would be able to find him. The lunch had been a
disaster, but at least Jesse had agreed to speak with him. Assuming Lalo allowed him to return
home—he might still have Jesse in his grip. But no—he wanted Jesse to come with him
willingly. Squeeze him too tight and Jesse might slip out of his hands. He’d be alone tonight.
But it might be his last shot. Walt had to think of a way to get through to him.

At the same time, he needed to get Skyler back on board. They had been so close to a
breakthrough. He hadn’t liked the car wash idea at first, but he could appreciate its brilliance
now. With Skyler at his side, he could only go up and up. Would it be better to let things cool off
a little more, or should he strike while she was still likely lost and confused? If he got in quick
enough, he could stir things around. Make her doubt herself before she had the chance to make
up her mind.

Yes, that seemed like the best course of action.

He waited until a few minutes before the car wash closed. Skyler’s car was the only one in the
parking lot, meaning she was alone. Perfect. What angle should he take? Bring up her affair with
Ted? No, no—he didn't want to make her defensive. No accusations, although maybe he could
sneak in a mention. Maybe a possible medical explanation? Skyler, as I’m sure you’re aware,
there have been many cases of chemotherapy damaging people's impulse control… No, that ship
had long since sailed with his naked-in-the-grocery-store performance. She’d never believe it.

He’d just have to wing it. Take his cues from her.

The bell of the door rang softly as he entered the car wash. No one was at the register, and a
light shone from under the office door. “Skyler?” he called. He wanted to make sure not to
surprise her.

A beat, and then, “I’m back here.”

Walt entered the office and was hit with the smell of smoke. A lit cigarette lay propped up in an
ashtray as Skyler worked at the computer. The first three buttons of her white blouse were
undone.

She’d been so proud of herself when she quit before, when she found out she was pregnant with
Walt Jr. She ate gum by the packful, her beautiful brow furrowed in determination. Sometimes
she worried her smoking hurt Junior anyway; that there was poison in her blood.

She picked up the cigarette and took a drag before she spoke. “What do you want?”

At least she wasn’t kicking him out. “We need to talk. I know you don’t want to, but this issue
isn’t going to go away.”

“So? Talk, then.”

He swallowed. “I’m sorry for what happened. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. And I’m not
looking for you to forgive me—I know that it’s too soon for that. But as business owners and
parents, we’re going to have to find a way to work together.”

She ashed her cigarette. “You’re sorry. For what?”

“Well, that you saw me and…my business partner. Together. In that way. As you know, mixing
business and pleasure gets very tempting when you’re stressed.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Uh-huh. And what else are you sorry for?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a very long list of ways you’ve wronged me, Walt.”

She wanted a list? He threw his hands up. “Do you think playing guessing games is a good use
of our time? Tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it. You want me to never see Jesse
again? Easy, done.” He’d been sloppy as hell—next time, he’d hide it better. “And I told you—
I’m not cooking forever. I will find a way out.”

Skyler stared at him, stone-faced. When they had met, Walt had felt like the biggest loser in the
world, letting himself get cheated out of Gray Matter, grinding away in some fluorescent-lit lab,
doing uninspiring work. But Skyler thought he was a genius. She’d never known anyone as
smart as him. When she looked at him, he saw his best self reflected in her blue eyes. Her love
felt like a miracle. Marrying her had been his first big win in a long time.

Over the years, her gaze had shifted, becoming warmer, more familiar, and then finally, it
morphed into something like fond, like he was her sweet little dog. He had hoped to impress her
again with all his money, but it hadn’t worked. Only Jesse was impressed.

He got down on his knees in front of her and took her hand in his—the one that wasn’t holding
the cigarette—and kissed it. “We’re so close to having everything we ever dreamed of. Maybe
you and I are through as husband and wife—but please, I can fix this if you give me the chance.”

She pulled her hand away. “Fine.”

Walt looked up, confused. “Fine?”

“Yes. Fine.”

“Oh. Good.” He got up and dusted off his knees. “So, uh—what does fine mean, exactly?”

“Do whatever you want. You’re going to do it anyway, so why bother asking me?” She took
another drag of her cigarette. “You know, I was thinking the other day how glad I am that my
parents are dead. What you’ve done—what we’re doing... They would die of shame if they
knew. And if we’re ever exposed, Marie will never speak to me again. You know that, right?
And Hank would put you in jail. Probably me, too. And then what will happen to Flynn and
Holly? What would their lives look like after that?”

She ground out her cigarette. “You ended my life. The one I had, anyway. The one I loved. But
there’s no undoing that. So you’re free to do whatever you think you need to do. I won’t stand in
your way anymore.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Skyler shut off the computer and stood. “I have to go pick up Holly. Be sure to lock up if you’re
going to stay.” She grabbed her purse from the hook on the wall and left.

Walt was about to go after her when his gaze drifted to her desk. There, beside the keyboard,
was a business card. The angel-wing logo caught his eye. Walt picked it up—Second Chances.
Benjamin Varga.

His stomach dropped.

He grabbed the card and ran after Skyler, who was opening the door. “Where did you get this?”

She shut the door and looked at the card. “Why? Do you know him?”

What to say? If he told her who this “Benjamin Varga” really was, it could make her panic, plus
she might tell Marie and Hank. No. That wouldn’t do. “The name looked familiar, but maybe
I’m wrong.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Who is he?”

She continued to stare at the card, then looked at Walt, then back to the card. “You sure you
don’t know him?”

“Like I said, the name just looked familiar, so maybe. What did he want?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, like she did when he got her take-out order wrong or forgot
what time to pick Junior up. “He runs a charity. Was wondering if our business would like to
help with a fundraiser.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him I would think about it. And I am.”

She didn’t suspect, then. “Might be a good idea,” he said as casually as he could. And really,
there was no reason to get worked up, since Skyler would never speak to Lalo again.

Because Walt was going to kill him. No more fucking around. This ended now.

***

With Skyler handled, it was time to get back to priority number one—Jesse.

After a quick dinner, Walt dressed in all black, then waited until well after dark to head over to
Jesse’s. He tucked the packet of ricin in his back pocket; he would keep it with him always until
the deed was done. Whether or not he told Jesse would depend on their next conversation.

He parked several blocks away and made his way through people’s backyards to avoid getting
seen on the street. When he reached Jesse’s house, he picked up a few pebbles and threw them at
Jesse’s bedroom window, one after the other.

Finally, the window opened, and a moment later, Jesse leaned out. The light from the bedroom
shined around him as if he were an angel looking down from heaven. His expression, though,
was anything but angelic. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Walt shushed him and motioned for him to join him outside, but Jesse didn’t get the message.
“What, you want me to let down my hair so you can climb up? Why don’t you knock on my
door like a normal person?”

“Just—get down here,” Walt stage-whispered.

With a roll of his eyes, Jesse slammed the window shut. Would he come out? Just when Walt
was considering throwing another rock, Jesse appeared at the back door, wearing a white
bathrobe and thin flip-flops. Walt tried not to stare at the tantalizing slip of bare skin peeking out
from the fluffy fabric of his robe. Was he wearing anything at all under there?

Jesse shivered a little as he stepped outside; the night wasn’t cold, exactly, but cool enough to be
uncomfortable. Especially if you had, for example, just gotten out of the shower, as Jesse must
have, and your wet hair would stand out around you like a spiky halo, and your damp skin
would pucker into goosebumps, and your toes would rub together as you tried to get warm…

Jesse cleared his throat, snapping Walt back to attention. “Well?” Jesse asked. “Why are we
talking out here?”

“Your place could be bugged,” Walt whispered. He gestured further into the yard. Jesse followed
him.

“Look,” Jesse said. Walt was gratified that he spoke quietly now. “Lalo already knows you were
gonna show up. We don’t have to sneak around.”

“Unfortunately, we do.” Walt produced the card Lalo had left for Skyler. “I found this on my
wife’s desk at our car wash. It’s Lalo’s card for that fake charity I was telling you about."

Jesse took the card and stared at it.

"Why would he visit my wife, Jesse?" Walt continued. "Can you think of a single, benign reason
that he would show up to my wife’s place of work and introduce himself by a fake name?”

“How do I know that he really gave that card to her?” Jesse shot back. “He could have just given
you his card at the restaurant, and now you’re selling me this story about how he was stalking
your wife.”

Walt put his hands on Jesse’s shoulders. “Jesse, look at me.” Baby blue eyes locked onto his. “I
swear on my father’s grave that I am telling you the truth, and I can also tell you why Lalo did
it.”

Jesse shook him off, but a line of worry creased his brow. “So—what do you think?” he said at
last.

Walt’s cheeks flushed. Got him. “I think that Lalo never stopped wanting revenge for Tuco’s
death. That was the whole reason he came here. He had me on my knees with a gun to my head,
ordering me to beg for forgiveness for the death of his cousin. I talked him out of it, but it was
foolish of me to think that his desire for revenge had completely faded. That’s what these cartel
types are like—they’re a firey people.”

“Uh-huh.” He sounded skeptical.

Walt barreled on regardless. “And when you think about it, it doesn’t make sense to hold me
solely responsible for Tuco’s death. After all, Hank’s the one who killed him. So if he wants
revenge on me, he definitely wants revenge on Hank—and he probably wants revenge against
you, too.”

Jesse’s face paled. “What?”

“Well, you shot Tuco, didn’t you? You think that Lalo would ever forgive that?”

“Do you think he knows?” He was whispering now, and his eyes had gone round. “That I shot
him? Like, how does he know any of this shit to begin with?”

“His uncle told him.”

“The old guy who couldn’t talk? How the fuck could he tell him anything?”

“Just because he can’t speak doesn’t mean he can’t communicate. I’m sure they have a system—
that old bastard seemed pretty sharp to me.”

“But he couldn’t have seen me shoot Tuco,” Jesse insisted. “He heard the shot, and probably
assumed it was you since I was obviously the bitch in our relationship.” He scowled.

“You’re probably right. But—you did shoot him, Jesse.”

Jesse gave him a long, hard look. “And how is Lalo gonna find that out? Are you gonna tell
him?”

Walt hesitated a moment before answering, which was a mistake. Jesse exploded, no longer
keeping his voice down. “Oh, fuck you with this Phantom of the Opera bullshit!”
Walt’s eyebrows furrowed. “With this what?”

“You know—stay with me or I’ll destroy your life. Either way I choose, I can’t fucking win. So
let me guess—if I don’t turn Lalo down, then you’re gonna snitch on me? And then he’ll kill us
both, I guess. But you’ll have the satisfaction of ‘winning,’ which is all that matters to you
anyway!”

Walt blinked. It honestly hadn’t occurred to him. “I wouldn’t put you in danger like that! The
whole reason I’m here is because I’m afraid for you. Like I’ve been trying to tell you—he’s
toying with us, like a cat with mice. Prolonging his revenge so that he can savor it—and so he
can milk more money out of us, too. But he’ll get bored of playing eventually. And what
happens to mice once a cat gets bored?”

Jesse rubbed his neck and stared at the business card again.

Walt pressed forward. “He threatened my wife. My innocent children—”

“He left a business card.”

“Oh come on, Jesse, don’t be blind! You know as well as I do that this was a veiled threat.”

Jesse bit his lip, then put the card in the pocket of his bathrobe. “I couldn’t tell him no even if I
wanted to."

“And you don’t have to,” Walt said. He dropped his voice back to a whisper. “Just—let me take
care of it.”

“‘Take care of it?’” Jesse whispered back. He shook his head. “No, Mr. White, don’t. You can’t
go up against him. And, like—I’m not sure you’re right. Maybe he was fucking with you, sure,
but Lalo isn’t like Tuco. He’s a business guy.” He paused. “I don’t think you’re right about him
and me, either. He—wants me.”

Walt rubbed his forehead. Hadn’t they already been over this? But the last time Walt tried
pointing out how that didn't make sense, Jesse had taken offense. How to approach it, then?

But then Jesse continued. “I know you think I’m naïve, but I don’t mean it like, ‘oh it’s true
love,’ or whatever. But like…he made me promise to be his. And then he made some weird
comment about stealing me.” He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing out the spiky halo. “I
don’t think he’s planning on killing me.”

Damn it, Walt was losing him again. At least he sounded skeptical about Lalo’s true feelings.
“There are fates other than death that you might not like too much, Jesse.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, but Walt could tell the comment got to him.

“And you can’t ask me not to defend myself and my family,” Walt continued. “So I guess the
question is—are you going to snitch on me?”

Jesse shook his head immediately. “No, never.”

Thank God for that at least. But where did that leave them?
 He looked around the yard and remembered the first time he’d come to Jesse’s house, to
blackmail him into being his partner. It occurred to him that he’d never treated Jesse very well.
But things would be different when this was all over. “I’m not going to say goodbye,” Walt said.
“Because this isn’t goodbye.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Jesse hugged himself—he was shivering again. Walt longed to take him in
his arms, warm him up.

And why not go for it? Now was not the time to hesitate. He moved toward Jesse slowly,
carefully, like he was approaching some quivering, injured wild thing. Jesse remained standing
still, but his shivering got worse. Still slowly, Walt put his arms around him. Jesse was tense at
first, but then he relaxed into the embrace.

Walt tucked his head over Jesse’s. “Phantom of the Opera?” he asked eventually.

“It was my aunt’s favorite musical,” he said into Walt’s shoulder. “We saw it when it came
touring here—right before she started to go downhill.”

Walt kissed his temple—he wanted more, but he knew he shouldn’t push.

They held each other for a long time. At last, Jesse stepped back. “Well. Goodbye, I guess.” He
was staring at his feet; his toes were rubbing together again.

“Not goodbye,” Walt said. He cupped Jesse’s face and tilted it up. “Just good night.”

Jesse’s eyes teared—crying, for him? “Look, Mr. White—maybe you should just go to the cops.
Turn yourself in, tell them that your family’s in danger. And then the police can protect them.
And if you’re in jail and you’re like, a star witness, they can protect you and shit. I had a friend
once who—”

Walt’s jaw tightened. “I’m not going to the cops, Jesse.”

Jesse wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. “Whatever. Just—try not to die, okay?” His
breath hitched, and then he flew back inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

Walt stared after him for a long time. What if this really was the last time he saw him? He shook
himself out of it. No, he’d come too far to lose now. They would have time to really make up
later, after Lalo was dead. And then things would be different. He wouldn’t make the promise—
Jesse wouldn’t believe him. But he wouldn’t have to believe, because Walt would show him.

Chapter End Notes

I am trying not to jinx myself, but I'm very determined to get this story done lol. We're
headed for the climax pretty quick here, and I can't wait to write it!
 Chapter 11
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The mall was not crowded.

This was not a surprise, as it was 11 a.m. on a Monday. Walt sat at a table in front of the
Cinnabon, where he and Lalo had agreed to meet, and watched the few people there were. Blue-
haired ladies in sneakers shuffled past him for the third time, chatting and laughing. Delinquent
teens in fishnets and black jackets held together with safety pins walked up the wrong way on
the escalator, giggling the whole time like the children they still were. Young mothers, either
alone or in gaggles, pushed strollers as they visited stores, occasionally emerging from a store
with a bag or two.

Walt sat poking at the pastry he’d purchased. It was sickeningly sweet, smothered with quivering
globs of frosting. Not appetizing at all. A toddler a few tables over had a different opinion—she
stuck all of her fingers in the middle of her bun. Her mother scolded and tried to wipe her
fingers off with baby wipes, only to give up when the child just did it again. The mother’s
annoyance had melted though, and she was laughing now. Walt smiled too; the little girl's
delight at her sweet treat was infectious.

Walt wondered if he’d ever see Holly turn two. It was hard to say.

He forced himself to take another bite of the bun so it at least looked like he bought it because
he wanted one. Half of it was reserved for Lalo, having been liberally laced with ricin. Lalo
probably wouldn’t eat it, but it couldn’t hurt to try. He’d been making small batches of the
poison ever since Lalo rolled into town. He had enough for several attempts. This would have
been easier at a restaurant, but Lalo suggested the mall and Walt felt like it might be too
suspicious if he’d insisted they meet elsewhere.

Lalo didn’t show until 11:20. He was drinking a soda, which he finished with an obnoxious slurp
as he approached Walt, then sent it sailing into the trashcan. Walt tried not to feel discouraged at
the wasted opportunity.

He plopped down across from him. “So,” he said by way of greeting. “I’m here, as requested.
What’s on your mind?”

That smug smile of his made Walt’s fists clench. But he wouldn’t be doing much smiling while
gasping for breath as his lungs failed. That cheerful thought helped Walt regain his composure.

“I’ve received some bad news. My cancer has returned.” Walt coughed a little to sell it, but the
fake cough soon turned real, and he couldn’t stop. Lalo patted him aggressively on the back.

“You know that doesn’t help, right?” he choked out when the fit had passed. His eyes had teared
and his nose was running. “You can’t knock the cancer out of me.” Through his tears, he could
see the young mother looking on in pity. He reached for a napkin but ended up knocking them to
the floor by accident. Lalo offered him a handkerchief. Who the hell carried around
handkerchiefs anymore? He snatched it, then dabbed his eyes and wiped his nose. Maybe he
could put ricin in it before he gave it back.

Lalo’s eyebrows raised. “I’m still taking Jesse to Mexico next week.”

“This isn’t a stalling tactic, if that’s what you’re thinking. Besides, it’s better if he’s not here for
this.” He put a little wistfulness in his tone. “I’d prefer you not to tell him—not until it’s over.”

Lalo stared at him and said nothing. Walt kept a straight face and said nothing back. It was hard
to tell if the lie was working, but he wasn’t about to make things easy for Lalo by babbling.

At last, Lalo sighed and rolled his neck. “How long have you got?”

“Six months. Maybe less.”

“Well, the timing is good at least—I’ve found a candidate for Jesse’s replacement. A college kid
—already cooking meth, actually, so it shouldn’t take him too long to catch up. Once he’s up and
running, you’re free to go.”

“Really?”

“That’s what we agreed on, yeah? Work until you can’t, and then I send you off with money for
your family. I keep my promises.”

Did he really expect him to believe that? He pushed the Cinnabon toward Lalo. “Do you want
the rest of this? I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Nah, I just ate.” He stood. “Come on. Why don’t we walk around a little? Talk things over.”

Walt threw the pastry in the trash. Lalo reclaimed his handkerchief, to Walt’s disappointment,
but then again, the odds that he would use it while it was still covered in Walt’s snot were
probably low anyway.

They walked leisurely around the mall. The crowd grew larger as lunch approached. Lalo told
him about the college boy—a PhD student called Gale. They discussed schedules and time
tables and logistics for his departure. Walt kept asking questions and bringing up hypotheticals
—he needed to extend the conversation long enough for him to suggest coffee. Surely Lalo
would say yes to coffee. And from there, it would be easy. A distraction was all it would take.

“You aren’t as gleeful as I thought you would be,” Walt said once he’d run out of things to say.

“Qué?”

“About my impending death. That’s the whole reason you let me go to begin with, isn’t it? That
the cancer would take its revenge for you?”

Lalo shrugged. “To be honest, your death is going to be very inconvenient for me. And once
you’re gone, I’ll lose the pleasure of tormenting you.” He grinned at him, as if they were friends.
His gaze drifted from Walt and then his eyes lit up. “Ah! Let’s stop there.”

Walt followed his gaze to Sweet Factory—a candy store, the kind that sold candy in bulk bins.
When they entered, the mix of sweet smells nauseated him—it was too much, too cloying. Lalo,
on the other hand, inhaled deeply, then smacked his lips. He got a bag and headed straight for
the gummies, glistening like brightly colored jewels in their bins—plump bears in ruby red,
emerald green, blue sapphire, and colorless but dazzling quartz; dual-toned worms in sunny
oranges and grassy greens, cherry reds and sunny yellows; gumdrops more violently yellow than
any real lemon; rainbow ropes shimmering with sugar.

Walt couldn’t believe his luck. A bag of loose candy would be easy to poison. Walt grabbed a
bag and followed Lalo, matching his choices. He could poison his own and then switch the bag.
So many choices. It was as good as done. He just had to keep him talking.

After they purchased their sweets, they found a bench and sat down to partake. Walt forced
himself to eat a yellow bear, although his stomach was still queasy from the Cinnabon frosting.

“I used to never like this shit,” Lalo said as he munched away, the gummies squelching in his
mouth. “Not even when I was a kid, really. Isn’t it wonderful how tastes can change? Life is new
again, every day. That’s beautiful, no?”

Walt hummed in response as he suppressed a smile at the thought of Lalo’s final surprise. “I
want to ask you something, and I want an honest answer.”

“Ask away. I’m an open book.”

Walt rolled his eyes. “Did you go after Jesse solely to torment me?”

Lalo chuckled. “Jesse’s right—you really do think everything’s about you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You’re right. My answer is no. But now it’s my turn to ask you a question—did you want him
before you knew I did?”

The question took him off guard. “Yes,” he finally said.

“Are you sure? Because it seems to me like it's my desire for him that attracted you.”
"Now who's the narcissist? You have nothing to do with how I feel about Jesse."

"So when did you know you wanted him?" When Walt struggles to answer, Lalo filled in the
silence. “Was it when he was your student?” He winked. “Don’t be shy—I won’t judge.”

A burning sweetness boiled up from his belly. He put a hand over his mouth and forced himself
to swallow it down. “No,” he said when he could speak. “That’s disgusting.”

“Oh come on, Walter, don’t bullshit me. You like them young, like that wife of yours.” He
waggled his eyebrows. “I dropped in on her the other day—hope you don’t mind. I was curious.
And wow, she’s a real looker! How old was she when you swept her up? Nineteen? Eighteen?”

“She was twenty-two when we were married,” he snapped and then scowled when he realized
how defensive he sounded, and how weak that defense really was.

Lalo held up his hands. “Sorry, my mistake.” He ate another candy. “Not as young anymore,
though, is she? That why you lost interest?”

His stomach churned and he was nearly sick again. “I haven’t lost interest. I love my wife.”

Lalo shrugged. “If you say so.” He looked at him and laughed again. “I really upset you, huh?
Don’t be so offended—a taste for young blonds is very common. Pedestrian, even. You’re a very
normal man, Walter. Very ordinary.”

The needling actually calmed him a little, since it was so clear Lalo wanted a rise out of him.

“So,” Lalo continued. “If you wanted him before I showed up, when did you know?”

Walt thought about it. The truth, if he were to grudgingly admit it, was that Lalo was partially
right. His sexual desire for Jesse only became apparent once he knew that Lalo had had his way
with him. But if he dug deeper, that desire had been burning quietly before, like a small candle
in the darkest parts of him. Not when he was a student—maybe Walt was a monster, but he
wasn’t that kind of monster. Was it after their disastrous cook in the desert? Their brush with
death brought them closer, yes, but that still wasn’t the start.

It was when he first saw him post high school, when Walt had gone on the ride-along with Hank.
Jesse had emerged from a window with his back turned, dressed only in bright red boxer-briefs.
He'd tripped and fallen off the roof—adorably vulnerable. The topless woman had appeared,
adding a heterosexual thrill to the encounter. And then Walt's gaze went back to Jesse, struggling
to get dressed. His oversized clothes. His blush at being discovered. His puckered lips as he
lifted a finger to shush him. Their little secret.

But that was more honesty than Lalo deserved. “Why do you want him?” he asked in lieu of an
answer.

Lalo ate another candy before he answered. “I’ve lived a very salty and sour life,” he said at last.
“There’s not a lot of sweetness in the drug trade. Our Jesse is a rare exception. And rare things
are always desirable, no?”

Our Jesse. As if their desires were the same. He wanted to say, I’m nothing like you, except that
would be a terrible cliché, and also, if he were honest, a lie.
 “You don’t need to worry, Walter,” Lalo continued. “I will take good care of Jesse—and of your
family, too.”

“Why are you reassuring me? When we met, you put a gun to my head and nearly blew my
brains out. But now you’re what, my friend? What’s changed?”

Lalo sighed. “I could tell you, but you aren’t going to like it.”

“I can take it.”

“It’s because I feel sorry for you.”

The anger in him burned so white-hot that he was struck dumb. He kept very, very still—he
would not explode, he would not give him the satisfaction. Instead, he squinted in the distance
and pointed towards the mall's entrance. Some teenage skaters were coming in, shoving each
other and laughing. “Is that Jesse?”

Lalo’s attention turned. “Where?”

Quickly, Walt sprinkled Lalo’s candy with ricin. It took him all of five seconds. By the time
Lalo’s attention was back to him, it was much too late.

“Huh, guess I was mistaken,” he said casually.

Lalo stood, his bag of candy in one hand. “I should get going. There’s a lot of business I need to
wrap up. Guessing that’s true of you, too.”

Walt would have preferred to watch Lalo swallow his doom, but he was testing his luck already.
He stood as well. “See you on Friday, then.”

“Friday, yes. Take care of yourself—I’m not done with you yet!” He gave Walt a slap on the
back, then turned his back and walked away.

Walt watched him leave. And then—yes! He dipped his hand in the bag of sweets, then lifted it
again. That was it. It was over. He’d won.

A calm settled over him as he set out in the opposite direction. He passed the skaters. The blond
one really did look like Jesse, with his messy hair and ridiculously baggy jeans. Why did these
kids think big clothes made them look tough? His heart ached.

“You really should be in school,” Walt said.

The blond scrunched his face and pointed at a sale sign in front of the nearest store. “It’s
President’s Day, bitch!”

And so it was. He’d missed the signs. Oh well. He could admit when he was wrong. He was
right in the ways that counted.

Chapter End Notes

But is he right, though? 🤔
We're headed into the home stretch - three more chapters! And they're all pretty explosive -
I'm very excited to finally set off all my narrative bombs lol. Thanks again to everyone who
has commented/kudos'd - it means a lot especially on a long project. <3
 Chapter 12
Chapter Notes

So, I have removed the "the walt/jesse is unrequited" tag. 👀 Did not expect to go there
when I started, but here we are. Also, warning for drug use (smoking weed) and a physical
fight.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It had been five days since Jesse had heard from Lalo.

Part of him was relieved. He needed some time alone to get his head straight. Mr. White’s dark
promises had freaked him out, but what could he do? Warn Lalo? But if he did that, then Lalo
would for sure kill him. The thought of Mr. White dying hurt so bad it took his breath away,
especially if it was his fault. But then that left Lalo vulnerable, and he didn’t want Lalo to die,
either. His head told him Lalo was too good to be true, but the rest of him hadn’t caught up yet.
He wanted to believe in Lalo, but at the same time—happily-ever-after isn’t really a place you
can go, because it isn’t real.

So where was Lalo really taking him, then? Did he still want to go? Could he even say no at this
point? Should he risk finding out?

In the end, he decided to say nothing. Let shit sort itself out—as far as he could tell, there wasn’t
a lot he could do anyway. Seemed to him that Lalo’s odds were a lot better than Mr. White’s. Mr.
White might be a genius, but not too long ago, he was a high school science teacher. Lalo, on the
other hand, was a serious narco. He for sure would be able to tell if Mr. White was trying to hurt
him, right? Lalo was good at reading people; sometimes when Lalo looked at him, he felt seen in
a way that was both exciting and frightening.
The best case scenario was that Mr. White would chicken out. The second best case scenario
was Mr. White making a move but failing, without Lalo noticing. The third best case scenario
was Lalo noticing Walt’s scheming but choosing to ignore it. He’d promised he wouldn’t hurt
Mr. White, right? Maybe he’d look the other way, for Jesse’s sake?

The other case scenarios were too horrible to think about. And since he wasn’t going to
intervene, the only thing he could do was wait. Jesse was terrible at waiting. So he did what he
always did when life overwhelmed him—he got super fucking high.

Not on meth—that jittery, excitable high was the exact opposite vibe he needed right now. Not
on smack—things were bad but not like, killing himself levels of bad, and he knew that’s exactly
what would happen if he took that up again. Either he’d OD or he’d be back in rehab, and he
would definitely rather die than detox again. (Besides, it reminded him too much of her.)

No, he went back to his old high school standby—weed. He hadn’t planned on calling Badger
and Skinny Pete, but Pete had reached out first to see if they could hang one more time before he
left for Mexico. Jesse caved—he desperately needed the good vibes Badger and Skinny Pete
brought with them.

“I’m telling you, Tooms is it,” Badger was saying. “Scariest X-Files monster. Like, it’s not even
close.”

Pete coughed as he finished taking a hit. “Nah, man, it’s the Pusher guy,” he said when he’d
caught his breath.

Badger put his hands in his hair, like he might tear it out. “Oh my God, are you for real? The
Pusher guy?! He’s not even a monster!”

“What do you mean he’s not a monster? He’s got mind powers and shit!”

“So what? You know who else has mind powers? Professor X. You really telling me Professor X
is a monster?”

“He’s a monster ’cause of what he does with his powers,” Pete insisted. He passed Jesse the
bong.

Badger put his hands together as if praying for patience. “Eugene Tooms slithers around in the
sewers. He can squeeze his body through anything so you’re never safe. He’s got those freaky
eyes. And oh yeah—he’ll rip you the fuck open and tear out your liver! To eat it! And he’s
immortal.”

“Didn’t look too immortal to me when he got all grinded up in that escalator.”

“You know what I mean. And like—how can you be sure he’s really dead? He kept coming
back, for a hundred years! Now that’s a real monster.”

“At least you can fight back with him. Pusher can get inside your head. Change your thoughts.
Make you do shit you’d never do otherwise. And he just looks like some guy—there’s no way
you can protect yourself or fight back. That’s way scarier.”
Badger waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever, man.” He turned to Jesse. “What do you
think?”

Jesse took a hit so heavy it left him hacking. A dreamy sort of fuzz fell over him, making it hard
to think—which was the whole goddamn point. “Dunno,” he said. “They’re both scary.”

His phone rang. He looked at the number—Lalo. Should he pick it up while he was high?
Maybe he should just let it ring. Call him back later. But what if it was important? In the end, he
took the phone to the kitchen and answered it. “Yo, what’s up?”

“Hello, tesorito.” Lalo’s voice sounded faint. “Have you missed me?”

“Yeah,” he said, and meant it, sort of.

“I missed you, too. I—” He started coughing, and it took him a long time to stop. “Sorry. I’m not
feeling well. That’s what I’m calling you about. We’re going to have delay our departure.”

“Wow, that sucks,” he said, although actually, a delay sounded pretty good. Jesse looked back
into the living room—Badger and Skinny Pete had set up MarioKart and they were arguing over
who got to be Princess Peach. Another few days of this, before he left it behind for good. He
was pretty sure Lalo didn’t play video games. “So you got like a cold or something?”

“Something like that. I haven’t been this sick since I was a kid. I think it’s the flu.”

Jesse frowned. “The flu?”

“Yeah, man, I’m feeling really weak. Difficult to breathe. Came on real sudden, too. I must have
caught it at the mall.”

“The mall? Why were you there?”

“Are you trying to guess your present?” His laughter was more of a weak wheeze. “I’m not
going to give you any clues! I was there to talk with your Mr. White, actually.”

His fuzziness sharpened. “You talked to Mr. White,” he echoed. When he spoke, he felt like a
voice with no body.

“Yes,” Lalo’s equally bodiless voice responded. “We were just working out some logistics.
Nothing to worry about. He’s being very grown up about it now.”

Jesse swallowed. “So, uh, you guys meet for lunch?”

“No, it was a little early for lunch. We did stop by the candy shop, though—I’ve gotten a taste
for American candy, although the candy in Mexico is still superior, I think. Oh tesorito—I can’t
wait for us to be there.” He coughed again—ragged and weak.

“Yeah,” Jesse’s voice said. Jesse’s body sat down at the kitchen table. Jesse’s eyes teared, but for
a few blissful moments, Jesse was nowhere to be found.

“Jesse?” Lalo asked from far away. “Jesse, are you there?”
Jesse slammed painfully into focus. “If you’re really feeling that sick, maybe you should go to
the hospital.”

“The hospital? Are you forgetting that I’m a ghost? Ghosts can’t go to hospitals—who would
they bill?" Another weak laugh. "I’ve got my cousins to take care of me. Don’t worry about it.”

“But what if it gets real bad?” Jesse tried to keep his voice from shaking. “You’ll go to the
hospital, right? Like, maybe your cousins can take you to a hospital in Mexico. Or don’t you
guys have, like, doctors on your payroll? Can you call one of them?”

“Why are you so sure I need to go to the hospital?”

Jesse put a hand over his mouth. He tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Jesse? Are you there? Why do you think I need to go to the hospital?”

“I dunno,” he managed when he regained his composure. “I’m just worried, I guess.” Because
what would be the point of betraying Mr. White now? Lalo would tell his terrifying cousins and
they’d kill Mr. White. And then he will have lost them both.

There was a long silence, and then Lalo sighed. “You’re supposed to be giving your worries to
me. I can tell you’re going to be stubborn on this issue, but you will learn.”

Jesse blinked; tears wet his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

More tears. “That you’re sick.”

He sighed again. “See? There you go again, being stubborn. I told you not to worry about it.
What are you doing right now?”

Jesse wiped his eyes and nose on the back of his sleeve and straightened up. “Um, I’ve got
friends over.”

“Doing what?”

“You know, hanging out. Playing video games, listening to music. Shooting the shit.”

“Getting high?”

Jesse cringed. His responding stutter refused to become real words.

“The truth, Jesse,” Lalo said sternly.

He could deny it, but the weed made thinking straight hard. “Yeah,” he finally said. “It’s just
weed, though. I swear.”

“All right, then. Just make sure you keep it to weed. Are you having fun?”

“Yeah.” He sniffed.
“Good. Go back to that. Try to relax. This will all be over in a few days. You can hang in there,
can’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said, but his voice cracked and tears welled in his eyes again. It would be over soon.
Just not in the way Lalo was thinking. “Yeah, I can do that,” he repeated, a little steadier this
time, even though his heart was breaking.

“I’ll see you soon, mi amor.”

But that was the thing—no he wouldn’t. Jesse would never see Lalo again.

When he hung up the phone, the world went fuzzy again. He felt outside himself, following his
body along like a balloon tied to a child’s wrist, as he returned to the living room, just in time to
witness Badger’s MarioKart victory.

“Yo, are you feeling okay?” Badger asked after he’d finished his usual round of fuck-yeahs and
in-your-faces.

“Yeah, you look real pale,” Pete said.

I’m fine, he tried to say, but he swayed on his feet.

In a moment, Pete was at Jesse’s side. “Whoa. You need to sit down.” He led him to the couch.

Badger sat next to him. “So what, you’re a lightweight now?” Teasing, but it was gentle.

“I guess.” He rubbed his face. “Uh, got some bad news. I’m not going to Mexico anymore.”

“Oh man, that sucks,” Pete said. “Well, for you—it’s good for me and Badger here though.” He
turned to Badger. “Right?”

“Yeah, totally! We were gonna miss you so much.”

Another wave of emotion broke through the numbness. Shit, he was going to start crying for
real. “I think I need to lie down. Don’t mean to kick you out, but—”

“We can stay,” Pete said. “Hang out down here while you get a nap in. We’ll be quiet.”

Badger made a zipping motion over his lips. “Like mice.”

He wanted to protest, but he didn’t have it in him. “Okay.”

Jesse took a pipe and some weed up with him to his bedroom. His thoughts were thick and slow,
like mud swirling in water. His emotions came more easy—waves of sorrow and guilt swelled
inside him, but in between those swells, there was an ugly undercurrent of relief.

He couldn’t think about Mr. White yet. So he didn’t. He smoked another bowl until his thoughts
dissolved. He leaned into the fuzziness until it overwhelmed him, and he fell into a drugged
sleep.

***
The sun had set when Jesse woke. His head felt clearer, but the same wasn’t true of his heart.

Badger and Skinny Pete had ordered pizza, with plenty left over for him. He thanked them,
although he didn’t really have an appetite, and then after reassuring them several times he was
all right, got them to leave. He was sorry to see them go, but he had business with Mr. White. He
got out his phone.

Mr. White picked up right away. “Hello?”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean? Has something happened?”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me! I already know, so you might as well tell me. What did you do?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jesse felt like screaming, so he did. “You fucking asshole! Can you just play it straight with me
for once in your goddamn life!” All of a sudden, his fury morphed into anguish. “Please—I can’t
take it, Mr. White. I can’t fucking take it!”

“Shh, Jesse, it’s all right. Deep breaths. Are you home?”

“Yeah,” he said and immediately regretted it. “But I don’t want to see your lying ass, so stay
away from me!”

“No bullshit, I promise. I’ll tell you the truth. Just—not over the phone.”

Not this shit again. “How the fuck does that matter anymore, since you kill—”

Mr. White shushed him again, louder this time. “I’ll be there in fifteen.” He hung up before Jesse
could reply.

Jesse threw his phone on the couch, then started to pace. He had said he didn’t want to see him,
but that wasn’t exactly true. He just didn’t want him to lie, not now, not ever again. All he
wanted was the truth. Then again—could he trust anything that came out of his mouth?

Exactly fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Jesse went to the bathroom to wipe
his nose and splash water on his face—that fucker could wait a minute.

By the time he made it to the door, Mr. White’s knocks had grown more frantic. “Jesse, it’s me.
Open up. I know you’re angry, but if you would just let me explain—”

Jesse flung the door open. “Then explain.” He crossed his arms.

Mr. White cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”

“Can you tell me the truth?”

“I will, if you just—”

“Tell me what you did, right now, and then maybe—Hey!” he protested as Mr. White brushed
past him and headed straight for his stereo. “What are you—”

Mr. White turned the music on full blast—it was some EDM shit that Badger had been into
recently. He put a finger over his lips, then pointed to his ear and then the wall.

Jesse rolled his eyes and slammed the door. “Oh my God, my house is not fucking bugged!” he
shouted over the music.

Mr. White rolled his eyes too, and then spied Jesse’s phone on the couch. He grabbed it and
smashed it on the coffee table.

“Yo, what the fuck!” He ran to Mr. White’s side to stop him, but it was too late. The phone was
thoroughly destroyed.

Mr. White sifted through the broken pieces until he found a small device that looked nothing like
the rest of the phone. He held it up in triumph. “A bug,” he mouthed.

The blood drained from Jesse’s face. Shit.

Mr. White said something else, but Jesse couldn’t hear him. “I can’t fucking hear you!”

After turning the dial down a bit, Mr. White tried again. “Better?” he said. At least, that’s what
he thought he said.

Jesse shook his head. “We can’t have a conversation like this.”

“What?”

“I said, we can’t have a conversation like this!”

Mr. White kept the music on, but gestured for Jesse to join him in the kitchen, where the music
was a little softer. He turned on the tap and started the dishwasher before speaking again. “Is this
better?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yeah,” Jesse said.

Mr. White put a finger against his lips again. “As quietly as you can.”

“I really don’t think he’s listening, Mr. White,” Jesse said, although he kept his voice down.

“So he’s dead, then.”

“Not yet. But he will be soon, won’t he?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that? Come on, Mr. White—just fucking say it. I need you to say it.”

“Because I poisoned him. There. Is that what you needed to hear?”

Even though Jesse had already known, it still hit him like a punch to the gut. He rubbed his face.
“Shit.”

“I did what I had to do. He threatened my family—my wife, my innocent children.” He held up
the bug. “And I know you don’t want to hear it, but anyone who would bug your phone did not
have your best interests at heart.”

He opened his mouth to deny it but shut it again. Mr. White was right. As usual. “And what
happens when they find out what you did?”

“They aren’t going to find out. It will look like the flu. Over 50,000 people died of the flu last
year, Jesse. It’s not so unusual for a man of his age.”

“Maybe if he was a normal guy, but this is cartel. They’re paranoid as fuck and they aren’t going
to assume he just up and died.”

“So what? A toxicology report won’t turn up anything, like I told you. Besides, even if they
suspect foul play, why suspect us? Drug lords have a thousand enemies.”

“Us? Don’t you mean, you?”

Walt waved a hand. “Yes, fine, me. But practically speaking, it’s us. Because if they suspect me,
they’re going to assume you were in on it, too.”

Fuck. “Yeah, well, maybe not if I tell them. Save my own ass.”

For the briefest of moments, Mr. White looked afraid, but then he relaxed. “You won’t,” he said
dismissively.

“Oh yeah? How do you know? You think you know everything, but you can’t read my mind.”

“You knew exactly what I had planned, and yet you said nothing. If you were going to tell, you
would have said something to Lalo to save his life. But you didn’t, did you?”

Jesse’s face flushed. Right again. “Fuck you.”

The corners of Mr. White’s mouth quirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

God, he was so smug—always so fucking smug. Jesse’s fists clenched.

“I knew you wouldn’t, for two reasons," Mr. White continued. "Firstly, you realized he was only
using you, but you were afraid to leave him. You were right to be—he was a dangerous man.”

“No, dipshit, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you could beat him, and I didn’t want
Lalo to hurt you!”

He shrugged. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Jesse crossed his arms across his chest tightly. “So what’s the second reason?”

“You said it yourself. You couldn’t bear to see me hurt.” Mr. White stepped a little closer, and
his tone softened. “I couldn’t bear to see you hurt, either. Jesse, I—”
Jesse punched him square in the face.

Mr. White let out a surprised shout and stumbled backwards. “Did you just punch me?” He
touched under his nose and pulled his hand back to look at the blood on his fingers. “You gave
me a bloody nose!”

“Yeah, well, I guess you’re not right about everything, huh?” When Mr. White didn’t reply, Jesse
took a step towards him. “Hey, are you okay? Do you need a—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish because Mr. White bum-rushed him. They both went crashing to
the floor.

Jesse couldn’t be sure how long the fight lasted. Not that it was much of a fight—mostly it was
just rolling around on the floor, trying to smack each other and only occasionally succeeding.
Jesse almost came out on top, but Walt managed to pin him, holding his wrists on either side of
his head while straddling him right above his waist in a way that made him impossible to buck
off.

It didn’t stop Jesse from trying. “Get the fuck off of me!” he screamed, kicking his legs wildly
and twisting in Mr. White’s grip.

“Not until you calm down!” Mr. White’s now broken glasses set askew on his nose, which was
still bleeding. Blood was smeared over his face and caked in his goatee, like he was a vampire
fresh off a kill.

“What the fuck, you’re the one who tackled me! You calm down!” He tried to get free again, but
goddamn, Mr. White was heavy. Still, he was only barely keeping a hold of him—but that
wouldn’t last for long. Jesse was exerting way more energy than he was, and he could feel
himself running out of steam.

Mr. White strengthened his grip on Jesse’s wrists, making him gasp in pain. “Just calm down,
Jesse, and listen to me—listen to me! It was him or us. And I chose us.” He leaned in closer and
squeezed his wrists again, but not as hard this time. More like a reminder of how strong his grip
could be. “And so did you.”

All at once, the rest of Jesse’s energy bled out of him. He shook his head. “No.”

“Yes. And you chose us because you knew what you had with him was fake, and you know
what’s between us is real. Jesse, I need you.”

That’s what he’d told Tuco. I need him, he'd said, even at risk of his own life.

He leaned in even closer, until Jesse could feel his breath on his cheek. “And more importantly, I
want you.”

That was true, too. In fact, had there ever been anyone who wanted him as badly as Mr. White
did? No matter what he did, how much he fought and lashed out, Mr. White never gave up. Hell,
he’d blackmailed him into their partnership. He’d done worse than that to keep him.

“I’ve killed for you,” Mr. White continued, as if he could read his mind, which maybe he could.
“I’d do it again.”
Scary as shit. Why did it thrill him? “Why?” he asked.

Mr. White’s brow furrowed. “Why what?”

“Why do you want me?”

The question seemed to surprise him, but he recovered quickly. “You’re loyal,” he said. He
punctuated the compliment with a gentle kiss to his neck. “You’re brave.” Another kiss. “You’re
a good student.”

Jesse snorted. “Oh yeah? So that’s why you flunked me?”

“I flunked you because I knew you could do better. And I was right. Look at you now—you’re
one of the best meth cooks in the country—no, the world.”

That didn’t seem much to be proud of, and it wasn’t exactly true. “Not without you.”

Mr. White smiled a little. “Not without me,” he agreed. He pressed his lips to Jesse’s. After a
moment, Jesse kissed him back. He tasted like copper and salt.

Their kisses quickly grew heated. Mr. White pulled back at last, releasing Jesse’s wrists and
sitting up to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. Jesse could feel the bulge of his hard cock
against his belly, and that sent a spike of desire through him. God, this was so fucked up. He was
so fucked up. And so was Mr. White.

Maybe they deserved each other.

Mr. White shrugged out of his shirt and pulled off his undershirt, exposing his broad, hairy
chest. Wasn’t the first time Jesse had seen him like that—in fact, he’d had a long time to stare at
a mostly naked Mr. White when they first started cooking. And he had stared. Hell, he’d gotten
out his video camera and zoomed in on his ass. Just joking around.

Yeah, right. Fuck, had he wanted him then? Did he want him now?

Yeah. Yeah, he did. He could hate himself later, but right now, it felt good to be wanted, to know
that he’d never be alone, not as long as Mr. White was alive, whether he liked it or not. Nothing
Jesse could do would drive him away. There was a sick sort of comfort in that.

Mr. White scooted back and pulled Jesse to a seated position, tugging at his shirt. Jesse let him
take it off. He felt scrawny next to him, but Mr. White ran his hands along Jesse’s chest and
back, relishing him as if he were something precious. “God, you’re beautiful. How did I not
notice earlier? You’re so goddamn beautiful—”

He leaned in for another kiss, but Jesse stopped him—only long enough to carefully remove Mr.
White’s broken glasses and set them aside. They kissed again, and then Mr. White put a hand
around him and pulled him close, pressing their naked chests together.

The rest of their clothes soon went the way of their shirts, and then Jesse found himself on his
back again, with a naked Mr. White looming over him. This time, Jesse reached for him, tugging
him down. The heavy beat of the music almost drowned out the wet, desperate sounds of their
kisses.
Mr. White tore his mouth away from Jesse’s to kiss him on the neck again, this time over the
faint remains of the hickey he’d left before, very gently—an apology. His mouth trailed
downward, over his chest, pausing to worry a nipple. Jesse moaned, and Mr. White’s hips jerked
in response, rubbing their groins together.

He came back up to shower Jesse’s face in kisses. “Jesse—oh Jesse, I want you, please, I want
you so badly, but I don’t— Oh sweetheart, teach me how to love you.” He said sweetheart like it
was two separate words—sweet, heart.

It took Jesse a moment to realize what he was asking. Mr. White had never fucked a guy. He
didn’t know what to do. Desire spiked in him again, along with a swell of tenderness. He put his
hands on Mr. White’s chest and gently pushed until he sat up again, then extracted himself from
under him. He could suggest that they go upstairs, but he felt like he was under some weird spell
that would break if he gave himself even a moment to think, and he didn’t want to think right
now.

So he propped himself up on one elbow and spat in his other hand. Then he spread his legs and
pushed his wet fingers inside.

“Oh my God,” Mr. White breathed, touching himself as he watched Jesse. He had a nice dick—
good size, a fat head that glistened with pre-cum. Jesse’s eyes fluttered shut as he imagined what
it would feel like inside him.

When he was good and warmed up, he drew his fingers out and spat in his hand again. This
time, he reached for Mr. White’s cock, slicking him. Mr. White shuddered and moaned as Jesse
stroked him, then pushed his hand away abruptly and brought him into his arms again for
another kiss. He eased him onto his back, then reached above himself to open one of the kitchen
drawers. Jesse was confused for a minute as Mr. White grabbed some potholders, which he put
on the floor on either side of Jesse. He was about to ask why when Mr. White positioned himself
with his knees on the pot holders. Right. Hard floor, old knees. Christ, was he really about to get
fucked on his kitchen floor by his high school chemistry teacher?

Mr. White pushed Jesse's thighs open and back. He spat on his dick one more time, slicking it
further, then positioned himself. “Are you ready for me?” he murmured.

Jesse swallowed and nodded. “Slow,” he said.

“Slow,” Mr. White echoed. He pushed forward, breaching him. Jesse felt the familiar burn, and
then the ache, and then the bliss as Mr. White’s cock slid over that ecstatic spot inside him.

Once he was fully seated, Mr. White bent to kiss him. “Good?” he asked, breathless.

Jesse keened. “Yeah.”

He pulled out slowly, then pushed back in. Out again, and then in. Slow, slow, too slow. Of all
the times for Mr. White to actually fucking listen to him.

Jesse moaned. “Faster.”

Immediately, he picked up the pace. Jesse grabbed a hold of his cock, stroking himself in time
with Mr. White’s thrusts. “Harder.”
His rhythm stuttered. “You sure? I-I don’t want to hurt you—”

Jesse started laughing, so hard his eyes filled with tears.

Mr. White stopped, still inside him. “Are you all right?”

Did it matter? He wrapped his legs around him, encouraging him to move again. “Just shut up
and fuck me.” Mr. White started to move again, but he’d gone back to slow. Jesse whined in
frustration. “Please, Mr. White—”

“Walt,” he said, still moving inside him slow, slow, agonizingly slow. “Call me Walt.”

Jesse blinked, which set the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Walt,” he echoed.

Mr. White—Walt—kissed his tears away, and then rewarded him with a hard thrust, followed by
another, until he was fucking him in earnest. Neither of them lasted long after that. Jesse came
first, sobbing his orgasm as his cum splashed on his hand and stomach. Walt let out one last
guttural moan and pushed inside him as far as he could go, pulsing inside him.

For a few beautiful moments, the afterglow whited out all of Jesse’s thoughts as aftershocks of
pleasure tingled through him. Walt was still on top of him, still inside him, still heavy, but the
weight felt sort of good, and he liked feeling full. But all too soon, reality crept back in, first
with sound—the rumbling dishwasher, the rush of running water from the faucets, the still-
blaring music. Then the pain came. His ass was sore, and so was his back from getting fucked on
the linoleum. The pain seemed to pulse with the music's beat.

He squirmed. Walt took the hint and pulled out, sending one last shiver down his spine. Jesse
mumbled something and retreated to the bathroom. He gave himself a scare when he looked in
the mirror—his face was smeared with blood. The downstairs bathroom didn’t have a shower, so
he washed his face off as best he could with a hand towel and some liquid soap. He used the
toilet, then wet the towel again and cleaned his stomach and between his legs. A whore’s bath—
that’s what Jane had called it when she caught him freshening up over the sink once.

In the kitchen, he could hear Walt coughing. Didn't sound good. It reminded him that Walt might
leave him, after all, like his aunt had left him.

When he emerged, Walt was wearing his tighty-whities and his undershirt, but nothing else.
He’d washed his face off too—must have used the kitchen sink. The faucets were off, and so
was the music. He was holding his broken glasses up and frowning at them.

Jesse lowered his voice. “Yo, aren’t you still worried about—you know.”

Walt put the glasses on the counter. “Maybe I was being a bit paranoid,” Walt said, although he
spoke quietly, too. He looked at his watch. “He should have other worries right about now.”

A shiver ran down Jesse’s spine. He grabbed a robe that had been draped on the back of one of
the kitchen chairs and put it on, but it didn’t stop the shivering. “Shouldn’t you be getting back
to your wife?” he said at a normal volume.

He had hoped to annoy him, but Walt didn’t take the bait. “Actually, I thought I’d stay the
night.”
Jesse shrugged. Part of him wanted to kick him out, but another part was desperate to not be
alone. He’d let Walt decide. He always got his way, anyway.

Walt approached him. “You’re shivering,” he murmured as he put his arms around him.

Jesse tensed at first but soon relaxed into the embrace. Gradually, the shivering subsided. “What
happens now?” Jesse asked into his shoulder.

Walt kissed his forehead. “How about a shower?”

That wasn’t what he meant, and Walt must have known it, but Jesse was too tired to argue.
“Yeah, okay.”

They went upstairs. Walt ran the water as hot as it could go, and the room filled with steam
while they undressed. The hot water felt good, soothing his aches. Walt soaped them both up,
rinsed them off, and then massaged Jesse under the spray, occasionally placing a kiss on his
shoulder, his neck, his ear, his lips.

Remember when we dissolved a body in acid in here? Jesse almost said, but didn’t. He was tired
of fighting.

Once they were clean and dry, they retreated to Jesse’s bedroom. Jesse pulled on some boxers
and an old sweatshirt—even after the hot shower, he was still cold. Walt had put his underwear
back on, but not his shirt. It was early for bed, but Jesse was exhausted, even though he'd napped
before. It was like all of his stress had finally caught up to him at once. Even with how tired he
was, he knew sleep was going to be hard, especially with how sore he still was. He reached for
his pipe and baggie of weed.

"So, you're using again," Walt said disapprovingly. "I thought I smelled it earlier, but I was
hoping it was just your friends."

"It's weed, yo. Doesn't count."

Walt sniffed. "Is that what your rehab counselor would say?"

"Would you lay off me, Mr. White?"

"Walt," he corrected.

"No, that was a Mr. White kind of question. You want to be a Walt, then don't treat me like you're
my fucking teacher." He finished packing the bowl. "My ass is sore," he added. "My back, too. I
want to be able to sleep."

That shut him up. He let him smoke in peace.

When he was finished, Walt turned off the lights, and then they got in bed. Once they were under
the covers, Walt spooned up behind him, one arm draped over his waist.

Walt. The name felt weird. Would he ever get used to thinking of him like that? Jesse turned
over to face him. “So for real—what happens now?” It was easy to be quiet here in dark, in bed
together and under the covers with the weed buzzing through him. He couldn’t have raised his
voice if he wanted to. “I know you said they won’t suspect, but how do you know that?”

“Because they won’t want to suspect us. We’re their cash cow. They’ll find someone else to
blame. And like I told you, they’ll most likely think it was the flu. Even drug lords get sick.”

Jesse bit his lip. “Are you really going to leave your wife?”

“I can't - because she left me first. I couldn’t get her back even if I wanted to, not after she saw
us together.”

Yeah, that seemed about right. “So…what are we now? To each other, I mean.”

“The same as always.” Walt kissed him. “Partners.”

Partners. Of course. Jesse looked at the clock on his bedside table—it was 9:10. “Is he...dead
yet?”

“Not yet, no. But soon.” Walt smoothed a hand over Jesse’s damp hair. “It was already too late
by the time he spoke to you, just so you know. You couldn't have helped him.”

Was that supposed to make him feel better?

“He was too good to be true,” Walt continued. “You know that.”

“Yeah, well, you definitely don't have that problem.” Jesse turned his back to him.

Walt tensed, and Jesse thought maybe he’d picked that fight he said he wasn’t going to. But Walt
said nothing. He simply put an arm around his chest and pulled him close. Jesse found himself
relaxing into his embrace. This was fucked up—but alone was worse. Walt’s chest rose and fell
in a soothing rhythm against his back, and soon, he was asleep.

***

With Jesse conquered, it was now time for Walt to get Skyler back.

He left early the next morning, since he needed to get to the house before his family left for the
day. Part of him wanted to linger so he could have Jesse in a bed instead of on a cold floor, but
there would be time for that later. His knees probably weren’t up for it anyway. He kissed his
sleepy sweetheart awake and then kissed him again goodbye. Jesse didn’t ask where he was
going. Walt was glad to not have to lie. He didn’t like to—honestly. But the truth was so often
inconvenient.

On his way over, he stopped at their favorite donut shop, making sure to get Skylar’s favorite,
Boston Crème, and a couple of long johns for Walt Jr. With the donuts secured, he continued
toward home. He switched on the radio—some perky morning show. An author was being
interviewed—she’d written a book on Shakespearean tragedies. They broke for the headlines—
more rain was expected next week. A house fire that had started over night had just been
extinguished, but no one knew its cause. A singer Walt had never heard of had died, likely of a
heroin overdose.
 He switched the radio off.

At last, he turned into his driveway. Skyler’s car was still there—he hadn’t missed them.
Whistling, he gathered the box of donuts and approached the door. It felt wrong to be knocking
on his own door, but he was going to have to take this very slow. Skyler was going to be more
difficult—she always was.

The door opened, and Walt’s mouth dropped open. For there, instead of his beautiful wife or his
beloved son, stood Lalo Salamanca, very much alive and in seeming good health.

Lalo smiled. “There he is! Right on time.” He looked down at the box. “Ooh! Are those donuts?
Here, I'll take them.”

Walt handed over the box, too stunned to do anything else. Blood roared in his ears, and his
stomach felt full of cold lead.

Lalo gestured with his head. “Why don’t you come in?”

And why don’t you get out of my house? was what he wanted to say. But he couldn’t say that. He
could do nothing other than what he was told. Somehow, he’d been outplayed.

Chapter End Notes

Coming up next - Lalo gets to do some evil monologuing.

 Chapter 13
Chapter Notes

Click here for chapter warnings

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When Walt was sixteen, he had gone on a kayaking trip with some of his friends—four teenage
boys all on their own. Why anyone thought that was a good idea, he’d never known. Then again,
his mother had always been, at best, indifferent to Walt’s well-being.

Walt had never kayaked before—it was a sport new to the mainstream at the time—but he got
the hang of it quickly. On their last day, after an afternoon of drinking ill-gotten beer, they
decided to go out on the river one final time, even though the waves were especially choppy that
day. It was his idea. He loved the thrill, such a change from his dull life, and wanted to
experience it again.

Big mistake. The water, which had seemed a little rough but otherwise perfectly navigable, grew
steadily worse as the wind kicked up and the sky darkened. He and his friends should have
noticed that the weather was going to turn, but they were only sixteen, and half drunk, and too
inexperienced to know better.

The whitewater waves rolled and roared as Walt struggled to keep from capsizing. An enormous
wave threw him into the air. When he crashed back into the river, he only had time for one
panicked breath before the water grabbed his kayak and flipped it, pulling him under the water.

Somehow, he managed to get free of the kayak. The frigid water cut into his skin like a thousand
razors. He couldn’t tell between up and down as the river dragged him like a ragdoll. His body
bashed against rocks as he struggled to escape the water long enough to take a breath, to no avail
—the river held him under. The pressure in his chest grew tighter and tighter as the urge to
breathe overwhelmed him, but he knew once he sucked in water, that would be the end of him. It
didn’t matter, though. His body took control and he breathed in the foamy river water.
It was then that he knew he would die, but strangely, the panic left him. The painful cold gave
way to blissful numbness. A pure, white stillness slowly began to replace the chaotic black as he
drowned. He should have died that day. But just as he thought he had made his final surrender,
the river lost interest in tormenting him, and he found himself washed onto the shore. His friends
rushed to his side, beat him on the back as he spewed water on the riverbank. He laughed it off
later, giddy with relief, but he had nightmares for weeks afterwards. He couldn’t believe how
stupid and arrogant he had been, and he vowed never to make a mistake like that again.

He felt like he was in that rocky river again now, even though he was standing on his own
doorstep—cold and tumbling and unable to tell up from down. There was even the same roar in
his ears. He held his breath as he stepped inside—but he would have to breathe eventually.

He expected to see Skyler and Junior tied up—or at least, that’s what he had hoped. The other
alternative he couldn’t even think about. But the house was still. Quiet. Everything was in order,
the way it wouldn’t have been if there had been a struggle.

“Why don’t you go look for them?” Lalo suggested as he placed the box of donuts on the
kitchen counter.

Walt only hesitated for a moment, reluctant to do what Lalo told him to. But just like when he
was in the water, he couldn’t fight his instincts.

He rushed from room to room, calling desperately for his family. But the rooms were all empty
—not just of people, but of things, too. The closets were cleared out, like everything had been
hastily packed. But not too hastily packed. Skyler was always organized, rarely messy. She must
have packed herself, and she’d done it voluntarily.

Then he noticed the envelope lying on the neatly made bed. On top of it rested Skyler’s wedding
ring. He picked up the ring and stared at it for a moment before putting it in his pocket. Then, he
opened the envelope. Skyler’s elegant handwriting was sprawled across the paper.

Walt,

Benjamin tells me that you’re heading for a lot of trouble. I hope you make it through—I really,
truly do. But it’s like I said, our lives—these lives, at least, the ones in which we’re a normal
family—were over the moment you decided on this path. I have to protect the children. I hope
one day you can understand that.

~Skyler

So she was alive. The kids, too. His knees weakened, and he braced himself against the bed
frame. Once he composed himself, he read the brief note again. His grip tightened on the paper
as he read it a third and final time. With shaking hands, he tore the paper into pieces and sent
them scattering to the floor, then set off to confront Lalo.

Lalo was in the kitchen, leaning with his back against the counter as he took a bite of Skyler’s
Boston Crème. He wiped some of the cream from the corner of his mouth. “So. You read the
note.”

“What have you done with my family?”

“Nothing! They’re completely safe. I would never harm an innocent woman and her children.”
He took another bite. “Well, I mean, unless I had to.”

Walt’s eyes drifted to the gun sticking out of the waistband of his jeans. He approached Lalo
slowly. Maybe if rushed him, he could—

Lalo raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t try it, if I were—”

Walt lunged at him. There was a scuffle that sent the gun skittering across the floor. Walt tried to
scramble for it, but then he found himself face down on the floor, his arm twisted painfully
behind him as Lalo pressed his knee to his back.

“You really are a crazy old bastard, aren’t you?” Lalo said.

Walt noted with satisfaction that he was slightly out of breath. Also, he’d dropped his donut.
“Takes one to know one.”

Lalo laughed. “‘Takes one to know one’—I like that!” He tightened his grip on his arm. “Even
crazy old bastards should know when they’re beat. This could get much uglier if you don’t calm
down.”

“You aren’t going to kill me,” he managed to grind out from behind clenched teeth. “You
wouldn’t have taken my family hostage if you planned to kill me.”

“That’s what I like about you, Walter—you’re so smart! That is, when you aren’t being stupid.”
He twisted his arm even harder, making Walt let out an involuntary yelp of pain. “You are right
that I won’t kill you. But I will break your arm. Now, I’m going to let you up. I know this might
be difficult for you, but try not to do anything stupid, yeah? Say you understand.”

“Yes, fine,” Walt spat.

Lalo released his hold on him. By the time Walt struggled to his feet, Lalo had retrieved the gun
and was pointing it at him. Even if Lalo didn’t plan on making a lethal shot, it would still do
Walt no good to have a bullet in him. He would play along, for now.

He held up his hands to show he would behave. “What did you tell my wife?”

“I told her that I was your associate, and that word on the street was that there was going to be a
turf war. And I explained to her that we had offered to extract your family, for their own safety,
but you had refused out of pride.”

Walt blinked. “She never said anything about this to me.”

“Huh, it’s almost as if she expected you to lie to her if she asked you about it.” Lalo rubbed his
chin. “I wonder why she would think that?”

“So she just took your word for it?”

“What can I say—it must be my natural charm.” He flashed his teeth. “Well, and I also had my
cousins come around and spook her. They’re good boys, but very scary when they need to be.”
He gestured with the gun towards the living room. “Come on. I’ve got something I want to show
you.”

Lalo had Walt sit on the couch in the living room. He turned the TV on and put a tape in the
VCR, then sat down in an armchair, his gun still trained on Walt. Once he was settled, he
pressed play on the remote.

The picture showed Hank and Marie, gagged and tied to their dining room chairs. Walt’s breath
left him. He felt the same malevolent pull of the river that had nearly drowned him.

Lalo came into frame. “There we are, all set up. Wave hi to Walter! Oh wait, you can’t, can you?
I’ll wave for you.” He waved at the camera. “Hi Walt! I just wanted to thank you for introducing
us. I was invited right in!” He addressed Marie. “I was not lying earlier, señora—dinner really
was delicious.”

Marie’s angry response was muffled.

Lalo sat next to Hank and put an arm around his shoulders. “You get a couple beers in this guy,
and boy, he likes to brag! Told me the whole story about how he murdered my cousin. Did you
know that his buddies turned my cousin’s grill into a paperweight? You know, so Hank here
could look at it and relive the moment. I know how it is—I take trophies too sometimes.”

More muffled wailing from Marie, and Hank struggled to break free, his face turning red with
the effort. He tried to say something through the gag.

“What’s that?” Lalo untied the gag.

“Let her go,” Hank said. “Just—let her go, okay? She had nothing to do with this.”

“That’s true.” He turned to Marie. “I gave your sister and her kids a ticket out, and she took it.
Do you want to join them?” Lalo removed her gag.

“Fuck you,” Marie spat, then she looked into the camera. “And fuck you too, Walt!”

“Well said, señora!” Lalo laughed and draped his arm around Hank again, then pointed to the
camera. “You want to say something to him?”

Hank stared into the camera, his eyes cold, before turning aside. “I have nothing to say to that
piece of shit.”

“Suit yourself.” He put the gag back in his mouth. “As much as I’d love to savor this, I’ve got
other fish to fry, so I think it’s time to wrap things up.” Lalo left the frame for a moment and
then returned with two syringes. Marie and Hank struggled harder, to no avail.

“I’m feeling compassionate, so I’m going to make sure both of you sleep through the house fire.
Well, that and I don’t really need the heat from the feds if they think this is cartel related.” He
chuckled. “Pun not intended.” Lalo injected Marie first, then Hank. Their movements slowed,
and then they both lay limp as ragdolls. Another man appeared in frame—a tough-looking guy
in a shark skin suit. He started to untie them. Lalo reached for the camera and they disappeared.
The next image showed Marie and Hank’s house in the distance, burning. Walt remembered the
house fire mentioned on the radio earlier. It was their house—Hank and Marie’s. Or it was. It
was gone now, just like them. And it was his fault.

Drowning had been less painful than this.

The television shut off. Walt blinked blankly at the black screen. Slowly, he turned to face Lalo,
whose grin was as wide as a skull’s. The gun was tucked back into his pants. He knew he didn’t
need it anymore. Walt was defeated.

“Cheer up, Walter!” He clapped him on the back. “At least you have the satisfaction of knowing
you were right. I was after revenge this whole time. You know, I felt cheated when I learned you
had cancer. My mother died that way, and it was slow, and painful, and humiliating. What kind
of revenge could I take that would hold a candle to a slow death from cancer?”

He snapped his fingers. “But! Then I had the idea—instead of killing this man, why not take his
life? And so that’s what I’ve done. I’ve taken your home, and your money, and your children—”
His horrible grin grew even wider as he held up two fingers. “—and both of your blonds. Your
wife and your children and your dirty blond will live on without you, and the only time they’ll
ever speak your name will be to curse it. And you will still get that slow, humiliating death from
cancer—but not before you make me a lot more money.”

Walt shook his head. “No, I won’t—”

“Don’t be stupid, Walter—of course you will! Did you miss the part about how I have everyone
you love under my control? I don’t want to kill them, but I will if you make me. You will do as I
tell you. And no more of your bullshit—the next time you make an attempt on my life, your
loved ones will be the ones who pay.”

Walt was about to deny it, but then thought twice about lying. That hadn’t done a lot of good for
him lately. “How did you know?”

“My tío told me all about you—how he saw you poison Tuco’s food, like a coward. I knew
you’d try it on me—I gave you enough opportunities before you finally took the bait. My tío
also told me all about you and Jesse. He said you were—well, it loses something in translation
so I won’t try to repeat it, but it was clear to him that there was something more going on
between the two of you than just being ‘business partners.’ Reminded him of another one of our
enemies, actually—he was much smarter than you, but we dealt with him too, eventually. No
one fucks with the Salamancas and gets away with it.

“So I thought I knew what to expect when I got here, but imagine my surprise when I show up
and it turns out you two hadn’t figured it out yet. Jesse, I can understand. He’s young, unsure of
himself. But you? You have the sweetest piece of ass in all of Albuquerque practically on his
knees for you, begging for a single scrap of attention, and you what—just didn’t notice?” He
made his eyes big like a puppy’s. “‘Oh please, papi, won’t you take me go-karting?’ And you
turned him down? Seriously? You deserve to die for that alone—that level of stupid ought to be
fatal.”

Walt clenched his jaw. “I assume I was right about your interest in Jesse, too. You’re just using
him to punish me.”
“It started that way, sure. I’d thought about killing him. I mean, I’d already have your wife and
children as my hostages, and I figured I could get you to train a replacement, and who needs
some junkie twink running around making a mess of things?” Horribly, Lalo’s monstrous grin
grew softer. He rubbed the back of his neck almost bashfully. “But then I actually met him, and
got to know him, and what can I say? I fell for him.”

Walt scoffed. “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

“Why do you find that so implausible? Don’t you love him, too?”

The too grated on him. “You don’t love him,” Walt snapped back. “You aren’t capable of it. And
he will never love you. Not ever.”

To Walt’s satisfaction, Lalo’s grin faded. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I know.
And I just don’t understand it. I mean, what more can I do? I offer money, promotions, power,
good sex, my undying affection—but it’s never enough, somehow.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re a manipulative psychopath.”

Lalo shrugged. “What was that you said earlier? Takes one to know one.” He looked thoughtful
for a moment. “You know, I think my problem is that I’m too nice. Maybe I need to be meaner
—Jesse seems to respond well to that, if his devotion to you is any indication.”

Walt’s stomach dropped. Just when he thought he’d hit bottom, he found there were even deeper
depths ready to swallow him.

“Let Jesse go,” Walt said. The words surprised him as much as they did Lalo. “You pointed out
earlier that I could train replacements, and I can. Jesse does a fine job, but he isn’t a chemist.
You bring me someone with a chemistry background, and I’ll give you another master cook.
And you said yourself he’ll never love you—especially after this. So why not let him go?”

Lalo’s eyebrows raised. “Do you seriously think you’re in a position to negotiate with me?”

“He’s trouble,” Walt continued. “You’ve only seen the sweet side of him, but you have no idea
how difficult he can be. He’s careless and immature and self-destructive, not to mention
stubborn. You think you’ll be able to control him, but I assure you, you won’t. You have no idea
how catastrophically disastrous his tantrums can be.”

“Thanks for the warning, but I have a plan. And I mean, I’ve got you, don’t I? He’ll behave—his
loyalty to you won’t let him do otherwise.”

He was right. Any satisfaction the fact gave him was drowned by dread. The thought of Lalo
using him to control Jesse was unbearable. It was all unbearable—Hank and Marie, dead
because of him, and Jesse and Skyler and his children now at this man’s mercy, because of him,
all of this misery and depravity, all because of him. None of it this would be happening, without
him.

That gave him an idea. He still had another dose of ricin in his pocket. Not a pleasant death, but
a peaceful death was out of the picture for him at this point anyway. He touched it to make sure
it was still there.
 A mistake, because Lalo noticed. He got out his gun again. “What do you have there? Take it out
—slowly.”

Shit. Well, now or never—he took the vial of poison from his pocket and raised it to his mouth.

He wasn’t fast enough, because Lalo smacked the vial from his hands, sending it flying, and
then Walt found himself face down on the floor again, his arm twisted behind his back—and this
time, Lalo didn’t stop. There was a sickening crack as Walt screamed in agony as Lalo broke his
arm, just as he promised.

Lalo left him writing on the floor as he retrieved the vial. He stood above Walt and dangled the
vial in front of his face. “You’re really willing to kill yourself for him? Huh! That’s actually sort
of romantic. Is it really true love after all? I think it must be. Nothing this monstrous could be
anything less.” He put the vial in his pocket, then pressed his gun into Walt’s temple. “You will
die when I am ready for you to die. If you try anything suicidal again, I’m going to make another
movie, this one starring your children. Do you understand me?”

Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered.

The pressure from the gun vanished. Walt struggled to pull himself together as Lalo made a
phone call. After having a brief conversation in Spanish, he turned back to Walt, his gun still
pointed at him. “My cousins are on their way to take you to the lab. That’s where you’ll be
living for the rest of your miserable life. You will work until you are too sick to work, and then
you will die, and no one will mourn you.”

But that wasn’t true. Jesse would mourn him. The thought gave him a sick sort of comfort. He
looked up at Lalo through the broken lenses of his glasses—his spare pair that he kept in the car,
since Jesse had broken his other pair last night, which might as well have been a lifetime ago.
He couldn’t see clearly right now, and it make take him a little more time before the picture
came into focus. But he wasn’t done yet. Lalo was right—cancer was a lot worse than he was,
and Walt had beat it—at least so far.

So for now, he would surrender. Let himself wash up on shore until the storm passed. And then
he’d make a new plan. And if that didn’t work, then he’d make another one. For a little while,
he’d dreamed that he’d come out on top after all, with his cancer in remission, a fortune ready to
spend, and his loved ones slowly coming around. All of those hopes were dashed now, but that
was okay. He was back where he’d been at the start of all this. He would die—but first, he
would win.

Somehow. It sounded like he’d have plenty of time alone to think about it, at least.

Chapter End Notes

😱
I'm sure you have a few more questions, but they will (hopefully) all be addressed next
chapter, which will be the last!
 Chapter 14
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The first thing Jesse did when he woke up was smoke a bowl.

Yeah, it was “just” weed. But it still made him feel like shit—all the work he did in rehab,
flushed down the toilet, along with everything else in his life. Would he start doing meth again?
Walt wouldn’t like that very much. But he had a hard time caring about what Walt would like.

Walt. He thought of him as Walt now. There was no word to describe how that made him feel—
his stomach sank, but his heart fluttered. He put a hand over his face. This shit was un-fucking-
bearable.

He peeked through his fingers at the alarm clock. It was 10:13. Damn. He’d hoped to sleep till
noon at least. He wondered if Lalo was dead yet. If not, was he suffering? Was he thinking about
Jesse right now, as he lay dying, dreaming of getting well so he could see his tesorito again?

Jesse took one last hit, a big one. It sent him into a coughing fit so violent he gagged. Worth it,
though—a lazy warmth settled over him as his thoughts dissolved like sugar in coffee. He lay
back down and rubbed his eyes vigorously, as if he could preemptively wipe all his tears away.
He was so sick of crying.

He started to drift off into sleep again, although seemed like he wouldn’t find any escape there—
Lalo was waiting for him in his dreams, calling out to him: Jesse… Jesse… Jesse…

The stairs creaked. That sound always made Jesse bolt straight out of bed. Towards the end, his
aunt had to sleep in the living room, since they couldn’t get the hospice bed upstairs. She would
wake up sometimes, weak and confused, and try to go up the stairs, To go to bed, she’d say. I’m
so tired.
Thud, thud, thud. Footsteps, growing louder, as someone climbed the stairs…

“Jesse?”

That was definitely not out of a dream. That was a real voice—Lalo’s, and he was getting closer
—

The bedroom door opened, and there stood Lalo in the doorway, extremely alive.

“What the fuck?!” Jesse screamed.

Lalo rushed to his side, shushing him as he put a gentle arm around his shoulders. “Shh, Jesse,
it’s alright! It’s only your Lalito.”

Jesse stared at him, jaw open. “You’re…alive?” His thoughts were molasses-slow, too thick and
sticky to handle.

“Of course I’m alive!” Lalo laughed. “I told you not to worry, didn’t I? Calm down.
Everything’s okay.”

Jesse’s head hurt. “But—you were sick…”

Lalo took Jesse’s hand in his, then put it over his heart. The beat was steady and strong. “No,
I’m well.” He frowned. “Your eyes are bright red. Are you high already?”

Jesse tried to focus. “I, um. Yeah, I guess.” His hand slid off Lalo’s chest. Maybe he was still in
a dream after all. It was so hard to think.

“Why don’t you take a shower while I make breakfast?”

“Uh, I took a shower last night,” Jesse mumbled, looking away.

Lalo took Jesse’s chin in his hands, forcing him to look at him. He was smiling, but his eyes
were hard as steel. “Take another.” He kissed him. “And brush your teeth,” he said with a
wrinkle of his nose.” He stood. “Don’t take too long. You don’t want your breakfast to get cold.
And dress for comfort. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

It took several minutes after Lalo left for Jesse to come back to himself. He was so confused.
Had Walt’s attempt to poison him fail after all? And his illness was just a coincidence? But if he
had really been sick, how did he recover so fast? None of it added up.

He eyed the window. Should he try to escape? To where? And why? Lalo couldn’t know about
the poisoning attempt, right? Because if he knew, he wouldn’t be kissing him and making him
breakfast. Unless…

Unless what? When he reached for the answer, his thoughts scattered away like frightened birds.
He needed to be able to think, but he fucking couldn’t because he was a fucking junkie and he
was too fucking high at the worst possible time. God, he was so stupid. He was never, ever
getting high again. And he meant it this time.
In the end, he did as he was told. After brushing his teeth, he turned on the shower as cold as it
could go, hoping to shock himself sober. It sort of worked, but now things felt a little too clear
but still not quite real, like looking at the world from the wrong end of a telescope—crystal clear
but far away. Shivering, he got out of the shower and dried himself off, then got dressed. He
pulled his thickest hoodie on. His shivering lessened, but his hands still shook.

Slowly, he descended the stairs. Delicious smells wafted from the kitchen, and his stomach
growled. Seemed like his nerves were no match for the munchies. When he entered the kitchen,
he found Lalo standing at the stove, frying pan in hand, as he sang some Spanish ballad to
himself. Two plates sat on the counter, covered in freshly fried tortillas.

Lalo looked up. “There he is! Right on time—breakfast is almost ready. Have a seat.” He
gestured to the kitchen table—a place had been set for him, with a cup of steaming hot coffee
and a large glass of water.

He slid into his seat. The coffee smelled good, but he drank the water first—even after brushing
his teeth, his mouth was still dry. It tasted so refreshing that Jesse drank almost the entire glass
in one gulp. Next he tried the coffee—it was made just the way he liked it, with plenty of sugar
and cream. Walt made fun of the way he took his coffee. You might as well be having a
milkshake at that point.

Lalo started singing to himself again. He tasted whatever was in the pan—smelled like eggs.
“Mmmm—perfecto.” He slid the eggs onto the plates, then brought them to the table. The meal
looked amazing—bright red tomatoes and green chiles added color to the fluffy yellow eggs.

“Eat up,” Lalo said as he sat across from Jesse. “You’ll feel better with something in your
stomach.”

Hard to argue with that. Jesse ate. It tasted as good as it looked. He always liked Lalo’s cooking,
he thought dully. Had the last twenty-four hours been a nightmare? Did he just dream up Walt’s
plan and Lalo’s illness? Because surely Lalo wouldn’t be acting this way if he knew. But then
why was Walt Walt in his head if none of it had happened? He was so confused…until he
noticed.

There, on the counter, lay Walt’s broken glasses.

The previous night came flashing back to him—their fight, his surrender, the sex on the floor.
Had Lalo noticed the glasses? Probably not if he hadn’t mentioned it? Right? Shit, how would
Jesse explain how they got there if he asked?

“I’ve got good news,” Lalo said between bites. “I’ve found a realtor who will manage the rental
of this house.”

Jesse barely heard him. So Walt’s plan failed. That had to be it. Lalo didn’t know he tried to
poison him. As long as Lalo never figured it out, everything would be okay. Except—shit, he
was moving to Mexico? Today? And he’d never see Walt again? The thought made his stomach
hurt. They couldn’t leave things like this. Maybe he could convince Lalo to postpone—but what
would that accomplish? Maybe—

“Jesse?” Lalo said. “Did you hear me?”

He came crashing back to himself. “Realtor,” he repeated. “Renting. Yeah, got it.”

Lalo peered at him. “Have you changed your mind about selling? That would really be easier.”

“No!” Jesse said quickly. The thought of losing his aunt’s house made his breath catch. Shit,
why had he ever thought this was a good idea—any of it?

Lalo held up his hands. “No problem, then. We rent it. I try to keep your desires in mind. I hope
you remember that.”

That was a weird thing to say. “That’s great, but, um, what if I say I want to stay a little longer?
Until we find a renter. I mean, we don’t want to leave the house vacant, right?”

“It’s too late to change your mind,” Lalo said, almost gently but not quite. “We’re leaving
today.”

He did not like the way Lalo said that. Shit shit shit… What was he going to do? First things first
—he needed to get rid of those glasses. His gaze darted everywhere, looking for something to
help. When he glanced into the living room, inspiration struck.

Steadying himself with one hand on the table, he stood. He picked up his plate and Lalo’s. “I’ll
clean up,” he said, hoping his tone was convincingly light. “Can you get the dishes from the
living room?”

“Sure.”

As soon as Lalo left the room, Jesse rushed to the sink. After depositing the dishes, he grabbed
Walt’s glasses and shoved them in his pocket, right as Lalo returned. Jesse turned on the faucet
and began to rinse the plates.

Lalo leaned against the counter, watching him. “You seem nervous.”

“No,” he said a little too quickly. “Well, maybe. I mean, it’s a big step, me moving in with you.”

Lalo hummed neutrally. “You would tell me if something was worrying you, yeah?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Jesse started loading the dishwasher, avoiding Lalo’s eyes. But even without
looking at him, he could feel Lalo’s gaze burning into him.

“For sure,” Lalo echoed. He hummed again. Before Jesse could react, Lalo plucked the glasses
out of his pocket. Jesse froze.

“What are these?” Lalo asked.

Fuck! “Um, I think they’re Mr. White’s glasses. I-I found them the other day. He must have left
them the last time he was here.”

Lalo held them up to his eyes, peering through the lens that was the least damaged. “Pretty
strong, and I’m sure these are the ones he wears every day. I don’t think he’d go far without
them.”

“He keeps a spare pair in his car. They, uh, broke, and that’s why he left them here.”
“And when was that? Because he was wearing these glasses the day we went to lunch.”

Blood roared in Jesse’s ears; he felt faint. But once the burst of panic subsided, he realized
something. Lalo was not asking him with genuine curiosity. He already knew the answer…
which meant he’d been toying with him all morning. Fuck, he’d probably been toying with him
this whole time. He knew. He fucking knew. And that meant… He narrowed his eyes. “What
have you done with Walt?”

“Oh, so it’s Walt now?” Lalo let out a bark of laughter—he was always laughing, always
smiling, but his dark eyes had grown even darker somehow, like clouds in a hurricane. “That
must have been some night!” He held up the glasses to Jesse’s face. “Looks like you put up a
fight at least, although not much of one, considering the sweet nothings you were whispering to
each other in bed while imagining me dead.”

He heard that? Walt was right again. His house was probably crawling with bugs. “You’ve been
spying on me!”

Lalo rolled his eyes. “Yes. Obviously. And can you blame me, when this is how my kindness is
repaid?” He threw the glasses to the ground, making Jesse flinch, and then caught him by the
wrist. “You wept so sweetly for me—it touched my heart, it really did.” His grip tightened. “And
yet, only a few hours later, you had another man’s cock up your ass. And not just any cock—a
cock attached to the man who tried to kill me.”

“You’re hurting me!” Jesse said, trying and failing to twist away, which just made it hurt more.

Lalo ignored him. “Do you remember the promises I made you? To take care of your every
need. To protect you. To bring you into my home—into my home! And all I asked in return was
for you to give me your worries. Like, for example, your worry that your partner was going to
try to kill me.”

Realization dawned on him. “Wait, was this all a fucking test?” Jesse felt sick. “What did you do
with Walt?” he asked again, louder and wilder this time.

At the Walt, a grimace replaced Lalo’s habitual smile. It was only for a fraction of a second, but
Jesse was sure he saw it. “I have done exactly as I promised—nothing. One of my cousin is with
him now at the lab. We’re setting him up there permanently. He’ll only leave for doctor’s
appointments. I plan on taking good care of him.”

Another horrible thought crawled into his head, so horrible he struggled to put it into words. “H-
his wife?” he asked, his voice shaking. “His kids?”

“I’ve arranged for them to get new identities. Think of it as cartel witness protection. I don’t like
to kill women and children if I can help it.” His grip loosened. “I don’t like a lot of things I have
to do.”

Jesse took the opportunity to slip from his grasp. He grabbed the cast-iron frying pan in the sink
and tried to bash Lalo’s head. He dodged it, but Jesse had managed to force Lalo to take a few
surprised steps backward.

“Why should a believe a single goddamn thing that comes out of your mouth?” Jesse shouted,
brandishing the frying pan. “You’re a fucking liar!” He swung it again, forcing Lalo back
another few steps.

Lalo put his hands up. “Whoa, take it easy.”

Jesse’s mind spun. His high had vanished, knocked out of him by the shock, and now a million
thoughts were rushing through his head. “That buttplug thing,” he said. “Walt told me you told
him I was wearing a buttplug. You were baiting him into making a move, weren’t you?” It all
seemed so obvious now. Why did he attract such crazy assholes?

“Jesse, you need to calm down.” He took a slow step closer, holding his hands out as if soothing
a skittish animal. “Walter is okay, and I’ll keep my promise…as long as you keep yours. You do
you remember what you promised me, don’t you?”

He shook his head—he didn’t want to remember.

“You promised to be mine.”

“What does that even mean?” he said, his voice cracking. “You, what, want me to cook for
you?” But that hadn’t been the core of his promise, had it? His heart dropped into his stomach.
“And you want to fuck me?”

“It won’t be like you’re thinking, tesorito. I want you to be happy, too. I won’t hurt you.”

A bitter laugh erupted from his lips. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing right now?”

“This is me at my most gentle, mi amor. But if you need a firmer hand, I can give that to you.”
He took another step closer.

A shiver ran down Jesse’s spine. He took a step backward, ceding ground, but then he steeled
himself and tightened his grip on the frying pan.

“You don’t have to be afraid, though,” Lalo continued. “I forgive you.”

He knew he should be scared—like, really, really fucking scared—and he was. But the injustice
of it all eclipsed the terror for the moment. “Are you for real?” he said when he found his voice.
“You forgive me? Forgive me for what?!”

Lalo cocked his head. “For not warning me about Walter’s plans,” he said slowly, as if
explaining something to a small child.

“You already knew about Walt’s plans because you fucking orchestrated the whole thing!”

“But you didn’t know that,” Lalo said, still so fucking condescending. “For all you knew, he was
going to kill me.”

“No, I figured Walt wouldn’t be able to pull one over on you, and looks like I was right.” He
raised the frying pan a little. “So what did I do that I need your forgiveness? Huh?”

“When I called you last, you thought I was dying,” he pointed out. “You could have told me then
if you wanted to save my life, but you didn’t.”
“I tried to get you to go to the hospital, but you blew me off! Besides, Walt told me that by the
time someone’s showing symptoms like that, it’s game over anyway. And then with your dying
breath, you’d send your cousins to kill him for revenge, and that wouldn’t exactly bring you
back to life, would it? So what good would that do?”

Lalo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“No, you’re missing the point, bitch! You manipulated me this whole time. You made me feel
like you actually cared about me, but you were just playing bizarre head games, and now I’m
supposed to be, what, racked with guilt over some shit you made up? Fuck you!”

Lalo stared at him with all the warmth of a shark. Jesse’s stomach lurched. He prepared to
defend himself—no way he could win, but he wasn’t going to let Lalo drag him off without a
fight. But then Lalo shook his head and laughed a little. “So this is what he was warning me
about,” he said under his breath. He shook his finger at Jesse. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you
when you’re riled up, don’t you?”

Before Jesse could respond, Lalo moved in swiftly. Jesse tried to take a swing at him, but Lalo
easily disarmed him. He threw the frying pan to the floor; Jesse jolted at the loud clatter. Before
he knew it, Lalo had twisted his arm behind his back and pushed him up against the counter.

“You’re upset,” Lalo said lowly in his ear. “And this is all a shock. So I won’t hold it against
you. But just so you know, I’m not going to tolerate that tone from you much longer.” His
twisted his arm, and Jesse winced.

“Ow! You said you wouldn’t hurt me! You’re such a fucking liar!” He tried to stamp on Lalo’s
foot, but his boots must have been steel-toed or some shit because all that did was make his own
foot hurt.

“I will let you go when you calm down. Okay?” When Jesse didn’t respond, Lalo twisted a little
harder. “Okay?”

Jesse nodded and made himself go limp. But as soon as Lalo’s grip loosened, he elbowed him in
the gut as hard as he could, then took off running towards the living room.

He made it out the front door, but Lalo was hot on his heels. He grabbed his hoodie and dragged
him back inside, then threw him to the floor. “That’s enough!” he shouted. He’d raised his voice
before, but it had been purposeful, to scare him. This time, he sounded genuinely exasperated.
“Where do you think you can run off to that I won’t find you? And maybe you missed it earlier,
but I have your Mr. White. If you don’t care about your own safety, maybe you care about his.”

Jesse’s eyes went wide, but then something occurred to him. “You won’t hurt him. You need him
to cook, same as you need me. And I won’t. Do whatever you want to me, but I won’t!” Jesse’s
face flushed in triumph. If Jesse didn’t cook, then Walt was definitely safe. Because for all of his
fake romance shit, what Lalo really wanted—what brought him here in the first place—was the
money their meth could make him.

But Lalo just smiled—a new kind of smile that somehow seemed a little sad. “That reminds me.
I haven’t given you your gift yet.”

“I don’t want anything from you!”

Lalo ignored him. He got his phone out of his pocket and called someone. After a brief
conversation in Spanish, he put his phone back in his pocket, then grabbed Jesse by the front of
his shirt and lifted him off the ground as easily as if he were a ragdoll, forcing him to stand.
Christ, he was strong.

He shoved him toward the couch; Jesse stumbled backward until his legs hit its edge, forcing
him to sit. Lalo took the chair. Jesse guessed he could fight more, but what was the point? He’d
end up in the same position, but with his ass beat, or worse. Besides, Lalo was right. He had
nowhere to go. He hugged his arms around himself.

Neither of them said anything for several moments. Lalo didn’t look at Jesse. Instead, he stared
downward at some invisible point on the floor, a furrow in his brow. His hands, which rested on
his thigh, were slightly clenched. Thinking about something, maybe.

Jesse sniffed and rubbed his nose. “I was going to go with you,” he said. “Like—you won. I
chose you over him. Why wasn’t that enough for you?”

“Maybe you thought you did. I had hoped that you had. But then I realized that it was never in
your power to choose.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lalo sighed. “You have a special gift, Jesse. You’re loyal.” He said it with the same relish he had
at the go-kart place. Their first date. “At first, I hoped to transfer that loyalty to me. But then I
thought about it differently. After all, if a few weeks of a stranger being nice to you was enough
to get you to turn on your Mr. White, then that would mean you really weren’t so loyal after all.
Which means I was right about you.” He looked up and gave him another sad smile. “You can’t
be disloyal to him, even if sometimes you want to be. It just isn’t in your nature.”

“Then why do you still want me?”

“A man in my position doesn’t have the luxury to throw his trust around. I had to be sure
betrayal wasn’t possible. And now I am.”

“Because you have Walt,” Jesse finished for him.

Lalo leaned forward a little and looked directly in his eyes. “I think that I’d better spell things
out for you, just so there’s no misunderstanding. If you defy me, I will kill him. I only need one
of you, and I’d rather have you.”

“I told you. I won’t cook.”

“You only think that. The truth is, I can make you do whatever I want. Every man can be broken,
Jesse, and I’ve been breaking men since—well, since I was your age. And neither of us will
enjoy that very much. So why not make it easy for yourself, yeah? Nothing’s really changed, has
it? You were so eager to come with me before.”

Before Jesse could respond, the doorbell rang. “And there’s your gift!” he said with a bright
smile. He went to open the door.
Jesse stood too, bracing himself for whatever twisted “gift” Lalo had in store for him…but there
was no amount of bracing that could have prepared him. One of Lalo’s stone-faced cousins
walked in the door, and beside him was a little red-haired boy. Spooge’s kid. He was playing on
a Gameboy, but he looked up when he walked in and gave Jesse a huge smile. He put one hand
over his face and pulled it away—peekaboo.

Faintly, Jesse echoed his gesture.

“Hey, little man!” Lalo said, squatting down to his height. He held out his hand for a high five,
which the little boy gave him. “You have fun with Tío Leonel?” The kid nodded. Lalo turned
back to Jesse. “Leonel is great with kids.”

Jesse swayed. Standing up had been a mistake. His knees felt weak.

“I told Zeke all about how you’ve been worried sick about him,” Lalo continued. “And how I
promised I would find you for him, no matter what it took. Fortunately, I have some connections
through my charity. The place I found him—it wasn’t very nice, was it?” Lalo said, addressing
the kid again. The kid shook his head. “Well, that mean old lady won’t be getting any more free
checks—I taught her a lesson. And Zeke is going to live with us now, forever and ever. Isn’t that
wonderful?”

Jesse’s vision started to narrow around the edges. A moment later, Lalo was by his side. He put a
hand on his elbow. “You’re so pale, mi amor. Maybe you should sit down.”

Jesse snapped himself out of it and jerked away from his touch. “You fucking piece of shit,” he
hissed.

Lalo tutted. “Not in front of the boy.”

The kid looked back and forth between him. His smile faded, and his bright eyes dulled. He
turned his attention back to his game. The disappointment in his little face broke Jesse’s heart.
Just as Lalo knew it would. Fuck. He sank to the couch.

Lalo went back to the kid—Zeke. “Let’s give the game to Tío for now, yeah?” Leonel held out
his hand, and Zeke gave it to him. Lalo took him by the hand and led him over to Jesse.

“You are happy to see him, aren’t you?” Lalo said.

He forced a smile. “Yeah,” he said to Zeke. “I’m so happy to see you, buddy.” The kid still
didn’t look convinced, so Jesse hugged him. He smelled a lot better than the last time he saw
him. His hair was neatly cut, and the clothes he wore were new and expensive. How long had
Lalo had him?

Jesse glared at Lalo over Zeke’s shoulder. “Mr. Salamanca is a huge dick for not telling me he
found you.”

Lalo frowned. “Maybe Zeke should wait with Tío while we have a talk in the kitchen.”

Reluctantly, Jesse let him go. He gave Jesse a shy smile, then headed back to Leonel, who
handed him the Gameboy.
He and Lalo retreated to the kitchen. “I’ll do anything,” Jesse said, lowly and urgently.
“Anything you want. I-I won’t give you any trouble, not ever again—”

Lalo snorted. “I doubt that.”

“No, I swear! On my aunt’s grave, I fucking swear it. If you just let him go.”

Lalo raised his eyebrows. “Go where? Back to foster care? Do you know what that old bitch said
to me when I came knocking? That for five hundred bucks, I could do anything I wanted to him.
You want to send him back to a situation like that?”

“There are good foster parents. You could find some. I know you could do it—you can do
anything, right? With your connections?”

“And who can give him a better life than us? Don’t you think he deserves to be spoiled, after
everything he’s been through?” His tone was upbeat. “Come on, I know you love him already!
And you were born to be a papa.”

Jesse stared at him. “Walt was right about you—you’re a fucking psycho.”

The slap didn’t take him by surprise, exactly, but he still cried out. He rubbed his stinging cheek.
Guess he’d found one of Lalo’s buttons. He hadn’t been sure he had any to push.

“I’m a patient man,” Lalo said, not so upbeat anymore. “But I have my limits. Go splash some
water on your face and pull yourself together. Like I said, we have a long drive.” He turned to
leave.

Jesse’s mind raced. Once he was over the border, his odds of escaping were pretty much zilch.
Especially not with Zeke, because he was not about to abandon that kid to Was this really it?
Had he just lost complete control over his life? Not that he’d had much over that ever since Walt
waltzed into his life.

Walt. That was it. He’d have a plan. Maybe not a good one, but shit, he’d been right about more
than he’d been wrong.

“Wait.” He swallowed. “Before we go, I want to see W— Mr. White. To say goodbye. Please.”

Lalo’s eyebrows raised. “And why should I allow that?”

“You said you try to keep my desires in mind. Don’t you keep your promises?”

Lalo hesitated. “And then you’ll be good for me?”

Jesse couldn’t bring himself to say it, so he just nodded.

Slowly, Lalo approached him again. Jesse looked down, but Lalo tilted his chin upward. He
brushed his thumb over Jesse’s still-stinging cheek. “Loyal and brave,” he said softly. “You
really are a treasure.” He brought his mouth to Jesse’s for a kiss. Jesse let him.

Lalo gestured with his head toward the bathroom. “Go on. Take a few minutes. A happy face for
your Zeke, yeah?”
Mechanically, Jesse did as he was told. He splashed his face with water, then examined his face
in the mirror. The redness had already started to fade. He hadn’t hit him hard. Just a warning. He
wondered how far he could push him. Well, he had a lot of time to figure that out, didn’t he?

When he returned to the living room, he found the three of them sitting on the sofa, with Zeke in
the middle. They were all looking intently at the Gameboy; Zeke’s nose was scrunched in
concentration, and then a triumphant little tune played. He looked up in excitement and grinned.
Lalo cheered for him and gave another high five; Leonel offered a solemn nod.

“Our little man has great hand-eye coordination,” Lalo said. “Just like his tíos. Good skill to
have.”

Jesse faked a smiled. “That’s great.”

Lalo turned back to Zeke. “Say goodbye to tío. It’s just going to be you, me, and Jesse for our
road trip.” While the two of them exchanged a silent goodbye, Lalo stood. “You ready?” he
asked Jesse.

No. “Yeah.”

Lalo whispered something to Zeke. The boy got up and went over to Jesse and held out his hand.
Jesse took it. It was so small.

Jesse made another promise then. Not out loud, but in his heart. He would do everything in his
power to keep this kid safe, and they were going to get away. He just hoped Walt’s genius brain
was up to the task, because right now, he had no fucking clue how he was going to pull that off.

***

Back to the lab, one last time. Although nothing had changed, everything felt different. Colder.
Almost like it was haunted, although no one was dead. At least, not yet. Jesse descended the
stairs, with Lalo trailing close behind him. He put a hand on Jesse’s lower back as they
approached what used to be the break room. It looked like a prison cell now, with a hard cot and
not much else.

Jesse found Walt sitting on his new cot, his hands and his feet in cuffs. His face was bruised—
although Jesse wasn’t sure if it was from their fight or if the wounds were new. Lalo’s other
cousin, Marco, kept watch, still as a statue but with less warmth.

Walt stood when he saw him. “Jesse—” He made as if to reach out before seeming to remember
his cuffs.

Jesse turned to Lalo. “Can we have a few minutes alone?”

Lalo made eye contact with Marco and nodded, then he turned back to Jesse. “You have five
minutes.” The two of them disappeared up the stairs. At last, the door shut. They were alone.

Even though time was limited, it still took a moment before either of them spoke. Jesse rubbed
his arm. “You, uh, okay?” he said, keeping his voice low.

“Not really. You?”

Jesse crossed his arms tightly. “No.”

“I was sure you’d be halfway to Mexico by now.”

“Yeah, well, I talked him into letting me say goodbye.”

Walt raised an eyebrow. “Did you?” He raised his cuffed hands and scratched his chin. “Hmm.
That’s promising.”

So that brain of his was already at work. Jesse dropped his voice to a whisper, so quiet he could
barely hear himself. He leaned in so that Walt could understand him, so close that their breath
mingled. “You were right about the bugs. And everything.”

“Of course I was right,” Walt said, just as quiet.

“So you got a plan?”

“Not yet. But I’ll think of something.”

Jesse’s heart leapt. “What should I do?”

Walt shrugged. “Play along. He’s crazy about you, you know.”

Jesse snorted. “Yeah, ‘crazy’ is the right word.”

“You can use that. It’s a weakness.” Walt paused. “And don’t let him use me to control you. I’ll
be fine. If you get a chance, run.”

Jesse rubbed his neck. “Yeah, shit’s gotten more complicated. You remember the whole situation
with Spooge? I told Lalo the story, and about the kid and how bad I felt he had to go into foster
care. So he went and got him for me.”

“Oh, that’s smart. Very smart.”

“Don’t tell me to leave him with those monsters, ’cause I won’t.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He paused. “He killed Hank and his wife.”

“What?” Jesse said, accidentally raising his voice. Quickly, he lowered it again. “What
happened?”

“Burned their house down. He was after revenge, after all.”

“Shit, that’s messed up.” Jesse hesitated, unsure if he wanted to press further. “Your wife, your
kids… He told me they’re still alive. You think that’s true?”

“Yes. He needs additional insurance for my cooperation. Just like he got the kid for you. He’s
smart.”

“So are you.”

That got a smile. “So am I,” he agreed. “I’ll think of something. Might take a little bit. But, Jesse
—it might just be for you. And the boy, of course.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was never going to get out of this alive. I knew that going into this business. I forgot for a
little while, but I’ve remembered now.”

Jesse shook his head as his eyes filled with tears. “No—”

Walt took Jesse’s hands in his cuffed ones. “Shh, now. Don’t get sentimental. I need you to keep
it together, okay?” He squeezed his hands.

Jesse took a deep, shuddering breath and squeezed back. “Okay.”

“I’ll get a sign to you. Somehow. So you need to keep alert. And I’m serious—play along. He
thinks he’s won.” He shrugged. “So let him think that. We know it’s not true.”

Jesse shook his head. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You’re going to have to. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“So is this it?” Jesse said. “For real? Will I ever see you again?”

“Well, never say never. But I think we should say goodbye.”

Grief gripped him, despite all the shit they’d been through—or maybe because of it. He took
another deep, shuddering breath, trying to stop the tears but not succeeding.

“Here,” Walt said. He lifted his arms up and looped them over Jesse’s head.

Jesse tucked his head against Walt’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist. He knew
he should hate Walt for a million different things, but in the moment, he couldn’t remember any
of them. Walt sucked, but he never gave up on him. Partners, always. And truth be told—Jesse
kind of sucked, too.

Walt kissed his temple, and Jesse tilted his head up. Their lips met—

—and then the door opened.

“Time’s up,” Lalo’s voice boomed. He and his cousin descended the stairs.

So fast? Jesse’s heart sank. They kissed again quickly, but Jesse managed to untangle himself
before they reached them. He didn’t want Lalo to rip them apart.

Marco stayed behind while Lalo escorted Jesse to the exit. As they walked up the stairs, Lalo put
his hand on his back again, and then it drifted lower. For Walt’s benefit, probably. He gripped
Jesse’s hip, but it wasn’t a relaxed touch. It was jealous. Possessive.

Insecure.
Walt was right. It was a weakness. Play along, Walt had said. Yeah, well, he was going to have
to be careful with that shit. Too sweet and Lalo would suspect. Maybe it was time for him to be
a little bitter, too.

“Well?” Lalo asked when the door was closed. “Did I keep my promise?”

“I guess.”

Lalo crowded him until Jesse’s back hit the wall. “So are you going to keep yours?” His voice
rumbled like a purr.

Jesse shut his eyes and tilted his head, letting Lalo kiss him, but only for a moment. When Lalo
tried to deepen this kiss, Jesse bit his lip.

Startled, Lalo pulled away and put his hands to his lip. “That’s not being good, tesorito.”

“Can’t handle a love bite?” Jesse met his gaze, then shifted it away. “And don’t we have a long
drive?”

For a moment, Lalo was terrifyingly silent. But then he chuckled. “So we do.” He kissed Jesse’s
neck, grazing his teeth over his skin, before stepping back and taking him by the hand. “Why
don’t we take Zeke out for lunch before we go?”

“Sure.” Jesse tried to act nonchalant, but his heart was pounding. He suddenly thought of a
picture book his mom read to him as a kid, about a boy who decided to ride a tiger but then was
too afraid of getting eaten to get off. How had the story ended?

He couldn’t remember.

***

Lalo loved driving at night in the country. He rolled down his window and inhaled the crisp
night air, then sighed in contentment. He always breathed easier in his home country. And it was
nice to get away from the crowds. He could only stand being a city for a little while before he
longed for these lonely stretches of the open road.

Although not so lonely tonight. He glanced in his rearview mirror at his treasures in the
backseat, fast asleep. Jesse had insisted on sitting with the boy. Lalo let him—he was feeling
indulgent. This wasn’t going how he’d thought it would. He’d planned on scaring some sense
into Jesse. After he was properly cowed, Lalo would treat him very gently to show him how
little he had to fear as long as he listened to his Lalito. Right now, he expected to be giving Jesse
gentle smiles and telling him little jokes to make him laugh. He’d be a gentleman, of course, and
wait for Jesse to reach for him. A second romance, more challenging than the first. He’d been
looking forward to it.

But things hadn’t turned out that way. He’d been surprised by Jesse’s fierce defiance—and he
liked being surprised. They’d still get their second romance. It was just going to be different than
he anticipated. Wilder, maybe. Could be fun.

The kid’s eyes opened and met Lalo’s gaze in the mirror. He said nothing, as usual. Even his
cousins weren’t this quiet as kids. Calm, too—Lalo had also expected to spend a lot of time
 managing a frightened child, but Zeke hadn’t ever been afraid—just quiet. That quiet interested
Lalo. It had potential.

Tío was always bugging him to have kids. He wondered if he should tell him about this one.
Maybe not yet. Wait till the boy had a few years of being a Salamanca before their introduction.
He smiled at the kid, but the kid just shut his eyes and leaned back against Jesse. What a sweet
picture; it melted his heart.

He shook his head and laughed at himself. What had he gotten himself into? Well, he certainly
wouldn’t be the first man to start a new family after a mid-life crisis.

Chapter End Notes

The end...for now! Part of the reason this fic took so long to write is that I could not figure
out what to do with Walt. Originally, I had planned to have Walt sacrifice himself in an
attempt to save Jesse, only for it to fail and for Jesse to be trapped for good. But that felt
way too dark for the tone of this fic. However, leaving Walt alive meant that the ending
would feel less final.

I hope this end was satisfying, but I've also decided to write a sequel. So turns out that
Jimmy faked Skyler's new address (because he was in charge of arranging things with the
vacuum repair guy), so they aren't really in danger. And the reason he did it is because he
wants Walt's help taking Lalo down for good. Jimmy knows it's a suicide mission - which is
why he thinks Walt is perfect for the job. (I have no idea how they rope Mike into this, but

😭
they've got to since Mike's the one who knows where Lalo lives. Also unclear - what
exactly they plan to do. )

domestic discipline
about anybody else.)
👀
Meanwhile, at Casa de Lalo, Jesse and Lalo engage in a battle of wills and maybe a little
Title is Bittersweet. (Jesse and Zeke make it out okay. Not so sure

But for now, I've got to get back to my other major WIP, the Lalo/Ciro gothic romance
Lucky To Be Here. Have you ever thought Lalo would make a great Byronic hero? So have
I! Gothic romance is a genre that's close to my heart, so I've really enjoyed indulging in all
of my favorite tropes. I'm going to be rereading this weekend and writing up a summary to
get everyone (including me) caught up since it's been a while since my last update.

Thanks so much to everyone who has left me encouragement - it means a lot! <3
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