Chapter Text
Jesse knows he’s got a big mouth, that he doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. It’s not like he does it on purpose, just has a bad habit of thinking out loud. And maybe he likes to show that he knows shit sometimes, too. Especially with Mr. White, who still talks down to him like he’s some seventeen-year-old idiot. Even though he was the one who asked for Jesse’s help, in Jesse’s area of expertise. So, when they’re brainstorming where to put their lab, it just comes out:
“RV-that’s what you want. Drive way out in the boonies-be all evasive.”
Jesse feels a pang of apprehension the instant he says it. Sure, it was the safest way to cook without being caught but-
But what kind of dumbass omega volunteers-no suggests- to go out in the middle of nowhere with some weird old alpha they barely know? The same weird old alpha, who was blackmailing him to cook meth together? It was the kind of thing that would get his picture put on Dateline, while his friends and family cried on camera, talking about how he “lit up a room when he walked in” or some shit.
Jesse understands how it sounds on paper. He’d had his fill of “stranger danger” lectures over the years; from both overprotective parents and well-intentioned teachers that believed a hyper-vigilant omega was a safe omega. But Mr. White’s not really a stranger, is he? He’s the guy who ate peanut butter and jelly-with the crusts cut off -on the bus ride to the science museum for Jesse’s junior year field trip. The one who would enthusiastically demonstrate colorful chemical reactions while Jesse and his classmates apathetically watched. The one who told Jesse he was smarter than he thought he was, he just needed to apply himself.
There’s clearly something up with his former teacher; no way a loser like Mr. White would just wake up one day and decide to cook crystal.
But he doubts Mr. White would do anything to him, even if he has been acting really fucking weird lately. If Mr. White wanted to fuck him, he could’ve just blackmailed him into doing that without making up some elaborate plan of cooking drugs together. He’s probably not even Mr. White’s type. Jesse remembers pictures of his family on his desk, back in school; Mr. White’s arm around a tall, pretty, blonde woman. No way he’d bother fucking Jesse when he has her at home. And besides-
A rough hand clenched fistfuls of his hair. His cheek pushed against the cold bathroom tile.
“Pinkman? Dear god.”
Mr. White had saved him, that one time. If he hadn’t come in when he did, Jesse could’ve-
Mr. White wasn’t fucked up like that. Yeah, Jesse wasn’t sure why his Ned Flanders ass wanted to cook all of a sudden, but he wasn’t that kind of monster. Hell, maybe this was Jesse’s chance to return the favor. To help Mr. White out like he helped Jesse once. He might not have been able to repay Mr. White back in high tests scores, but this could work too.
Mr. White doesn’t acknowledge the implications of being alone in the desert with an omega half his age, just tells him he’ll get the money to buy the RV.
-
“Uh, what are you doing?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was a fucking idiot.
They parked the RV in a secluded spot on the To'hajiilee Reservation. Jesse had climbed up on a nearby hill to scope the place out. It was perfect. Nothing, but desert and cows around. He shouted his findings to the other man, ignoring Mr. White’s scoff at his use of the term “cow house.” Jesse confirmed that this would be their spot, then started his trek back down the hill. He regretted wearing his usual baggy pants, constantly had to hike them up so he wouldn’t trip.
He was so preoccupied fiddling with his own damn clothes, that he didn’t notice Mr. White had taken his pants off until he was only a few feet away from him.
The other man’s back is to him, “These are my good clothes, can’t go home smelling like a meth lab.”
Jesse is trying not to hyperventilate, feels tears pricking his eyes. Fuck, he’s so stupid. “Uh yeah, you can. I do.”
He hears his dad’s voice-half panicked, half furious- in his mind, “Don’t ever be alone with an alpha, Jesse, it’s not safe.” That’s what he’d nearly screamed at Jesse after it had happened. Why was it so hard to just listen? Why couldn’t he just do what he was told?
Mr. White was down to his tighty whities- of course he’d wear gay shit like that.
“Those? Wow. Those, uh…You’re keeping those on, right?” Please Mr. White.
Mr. White turns around and Jesse can see his dick and oh fuck he’s really going to-
His legs turn to jelly and it takes all of his willpower to remain upright, to fight the urge to fall to his knees and beg the alpha to let him go. Run, he urges his body to move. It doesn’t. Fuck. Plan B then. Mr. White might be an alpha but he’s also old as fuck, and Jesse bets he can take him. It’ll be harder but maybe he can knock him out with a rock or something and take the RV. Jesse steels himself, trying to look intimating, which is a hell of a lot harder with tears running down his face. He looks up from the other man’s package and meets his eyes. Mr. White looks…confused?
“Jesse? Are you alright, son? What’s wrong?”
“Yeah, sure keep on playing dumb. Look game’s over, okay? There’s no reason to keep on pretending, I get why I’m here now. Fuck you, you old perverted bitch!”
A look of horror crosses Mr. White’s face.
“Jesse! I assure you I did not take bring you out here with the intention of assaulting you. You’re my former student for Christ’s sake. Hell, you’re young enough to be my son. I have no desire to harm you in any way, especially not like that.” His tone is low, soothing, paternal.
“Oh yeah? Well, then why are you naked?”
“I told you, I am not explaining to my wife why I smell like methamphetamine.”
“Yeah, your wife, huh? What would she think, if she found out you raped and murdered one of your old students?”
“I am not going to rape and murder you, Jesse.”
“Then why am I here? Huh?”
Mr. White gestures to the RV with his hand, and speaks slowly, like he’s talking to an infant, “To cook. This was your plan remember?” Jesse can tell he’s trying to hide his irritation, trying to sound calm and logical in way that pisses Jesse off even more.
“Yeah, and my plan had everyone’s clothes on, man. You didn’t say you’d have your dick flopping around!”
Mr. White sighs, his expression a mix of annoyance and pity. He walks into the RV for a few minutes. Comes out with an apron tied around his waist and…a fly swatter?
The alpha man gently tosses the fly swatter onto the ground in front of Jesse. Puts his hands up in surrender.
Jesse picks it up, it’s a generic fly swatter you’d get at Walmart. He’s so puzzled by the offering that the adrenaline coursing through his veins slows down a bit.
“What?”
“It was the only thing I could find in the RV that could be used for self defense. Besides the knives in the kitchen drawer, but would you feel safe if I came out holding one of those?”
Point taken.
“But seriously, a fly swatter?” Jesse waves it around, “Yeah, I’m rape and murder proof now bitch.”
Mr. White purses his lips, “When applied with enough force, it can cause quite the sting.”
Mr White looks serious and Jesse can’t help but let out a snort. He looks down at the fly swatter in his hand, then back at Mr. White again. He’s wearing full length socks and Wallabees to accessorize the tighty whitey and apron combo. It’s ridiculous.
Mr. White’s way too much of loser to hurt him.
His brain doesn’t feel like it’s in overdrive anymore. His heart isn’t thumping in his chest and he feels like he can breathe again.
Jesse feels his face grow hot, embarrassment replacing his panic. His judgement was right the first time. Mr. White wasn’t gonna hurt him.
“Jesse, you have my word that I did not bring you out here under false pretenses-”
“Under false pre-what?”
Mr. White gives him a quick, pointed look-like it’s out of habit- and Jesse feels like he’s back in junior year again.
“I did not bring you here to ‘rape and murder you.’ We’re here to cook and leave.. If you don’t feel comfortable then stay out here.”
Jesse rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, then shrugs, “I mean, I’m here now I guess. Might as well, now that I have this.” He slaps the fly swatter against his palm, then winces at the sting, “Just uh, watch it, I’m armed and dangerous.”
Mr. White nods, “Come on, we’re burning daylight.”
-
Jesse’s surprisingly not a bad lab assistant, considering what a poor student he was. He had taken instruction quite well after he’d calmed down. As they progressed throughout the cook, the boy’s guard seemed to drop more and more. About an hour in, Jesse swatted him on the ass with the fly swatter. At one point, he’d even filmed Walt with that little camcorder of his, while barking out some childish insults. Walt lets it slide for today, decided to let Jesse do what he needed to make himself feel safe, regardless of how annoying a comfortable Jesse Pinkman could be.
They finish up for the day, Walt resting in a chair, while the omega stares in awe at their final product.
“This is art, Mr. White.” Jesse’s blue eyes sparkle back at him, filled with amazement.
“Well actually, it’s just basic chemistry, but thank you Jesse. I’m glad it’s acceptable.” Walt can’t help but preen a little from the praise. When Skyler and he first started dating, she used to look at him the way Jesse is now; he never understood how or when he transitioned from "unappreciated genius" to "bumbling husband" in her eyes.
Jesse continues on, ignoring his attempt at playing humble, “Acceptable? You’re the goddamn Iron Chef. Every jibhead from here to Timbuktu’s gonna want a taste!” He looks at Walt like he’s has brought him a gift from the gods, instead of cooking up poor man’s cocaine in some shoddy RV. Like Walt is some modern day Prometheus, showing Jesse fire for the first time.
Something primal in Walt purrs. Revels in the attention from the other male-
From the omega.
Walt halts that train of thought just as quickly as it appeared. He refused to indulge in the same thoughts Jesse had accused him of only a few hours before. Walt wasn’t the type of alpha to get off on harming naive omegas.
Walt intervenes when the boy attempts to try their new product, scoffs when Jesse dismisses the notion that it’s not for personal use.
“Hey-Uh Mr. White? Sorry about earlier by the way. Didn’t mean to lose my shit on you. I really didn’t think you were that kind of guy. Just have to be kinda careful y’know? Some people are really fuckin’ weird, about omegas-especially dude omegas.”
An accurate-if slightly vulgar- assessment. Despite countless successful civil rights efforts over the years, there were many still who opposed omegas' rights. Politicians who wished to relegate to them to the home, make it illegal for them to work; ideologies that pushed them as homemakers and knot warmers for alphas. Male omegas were especially subject to marginalization-being the rarest of the designations; their existence contradictory to those with more puritanical views that wished to enforce strict gender roles between the designations. On the opposite end of the spectrum, others often hyper-sexualized them; found them to be trophies, pretty, exotic things to own and show off.
“It’s alright, Jesse-water under the bridge. I should apologize as well,I wasn't considering the, uh, implications from your point of view. Especially after-" Walt cuts himself off.
Pain, choked sobs. The scent of pure unadulterated fear mixed with the stink of cannabis.
“Pinkman? Dear god.”
Jesse seems to figure out what he was about to say, and shrinks a little, crossing his arms, "S'all good. It won’t happen again. Kay? Let’s just forget it ever happened, yo."
Walt opts to change the subject, “So, what now? How do we proceed?”
“We cook more tomorrow, Meantime, I know just the guy to talk to,” Jesse prepares a small sample baggie.
“And it’s… safe?” Walt doesn't want to push the subject too much, but his conscious urges him to ask.
Jesse snorts, “Yeah, safest drug lord’s den around. Full security detail and everything.”
“I meant, ah, safe for you. For someone with your-” Walt pauses, carefully trying to find his words. Terms like “designation” or “second gender” may be most accurate, but also risked coming off as sexist, “Your…ah...condition.”
Jesse bursts out laughing at that, “Condition? Christ, Mr. White, I’m an omega, it’s not like I’ve got cancer or some shit.”
Walt flinches slightly. Jesse notices, “Look, Mr. White, I, uh, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I got it covered.”
Walt raises his brows at him, eyes narrow a bit “Are you sure, Jesse?”
Jesse’s face reddens, “Look, that was different! I looked up and you were totally naked! Who does that without warning a guy? ‘Sides, I didn’t come prepared since we were just cooking, I have a whole system for when I’m dealing.”
“A system?”
“Yeah! A system-” Jesse fishes his wallet out of his oversized pockets. He pulls the billfolds apart with his two thumbs, holding out to Walt. The billfold is stuffed with thin, white packets, “Scent patches, I change ‘em every two hours, so they always work.”
Designations were easy to identify by scent. The olfactory system was particularly sensitive to the pheromones used to determine designation. Betas were typically the lightest and least offensive. Alphas and omegas were much stronger-especially if nearing rut or heat-which is why many opted to dampen them with scent patches or suppressants.
Jesse shoves the wallet back in his right-hand front pocket and then pats the left-hand one, “Always keep suppressants on me so I never forget to take them. Have a shit ton of alarms too, on my phone and at my house, they all go off at 8 pm everyday, so I never miss a dose-”
“You have multiple alarm clocks going off in your house at the same time?"
“Yeah,” Jesse shrugs, “It’s annoying as fuck, but if I’m crashing after a bender, I sleep through most of them. If I’m passed the fuck out in one room, then at some point I’ll still get my ass up to turn the ones in the other rooms off. Most of my business is done in public. Only do house calls to people I trust. Or I bring a buddy to back me up. I’ve been doing this for a long ass time Mr. White, I’ve got this shit down, yo.”
The boy puffed up a bit, quite proud of himself and his “system.”
“If you say so, son.”
-
“12:40.” The red numbers of his watch flashed back at him.
So much for the last minute studying he hoped to get in.
Jesse slammed the door to his locker closed, instantly regretting it when the bang of metal on metal made his head hurt worse. He’d felt like shit since he woke up this morning: headache, nausea, fever. He tried to ask his mom to stay home, but she only rolled her eyes and told him he couldn’t play hooky to get out of his chemistry midterm. She barely looked at him, too busy fussing with Jake.
To be fair, if he hadn't felt like shit, he'd probably would have tried to buy more time. Dad blew his lid about his grades again last night, threatened to ground him for two months if he didn’t get his shit together. Jesse had promised to do better like he always did, each time he said it more hollow than the last.
He checked his watch again- 12:41. He decided to make his way to Mr. White’s classroom and get this shit over with. He’d bullshit his way through the midterm like usual, doodle some dicks or something on the way too difficult questions. Turn it in as soon as possible, so Mr. White would have plenty of time to grade it and see how much of a fucking idiot he was. Maybe he’d have a heart for once and let Jesse nap on his desk, while he waited for his classmates to finish their exams.
"Yo, Jesse!” A voice called out. A long arm swung around his scrawny shoulders, pulled him close to its owner. Jesse smelled cedar and spice, with a hint of leather-Justin McDonald.
Justin was a year older than Jesse- a senior. They met in fourth period wood shop. At the beginning of the year, Mr. Pike had assigned partners alphabetically, so they ended up paired together. Justin wasn’t the kind of dude Jesse usually ran with- star of the baseball team, took AP classes, did extracurriculars, all that shit. The golden boy alpha type that Jesse knew his parents wished for, instead of the burnout, stoner flunky omega they got.
Jesse’s mommy and daddy issues aside, Justin was actually really cool. He’d ask Jesse about himself, what he liked to do, if he was seeing anyone, complimented the woodworking skills he’d been working to develop. His interest in Jesse felt genuine, too, like he really gave a shit about what Jesse told him. Not the performative “oh that’s nice” his parents would give him when they made small talk at the dinner table. Not the half awake chuckles he’d get from Skinny and Badger when they’d get stoned and talk shit together. It reminded of how Aunt Ginny would always take the time to catch up with him when his family went to her house to visit. How she’d hang onto his every word like it was the most interesting thing in the world, instead of the boring ramblings of an underachieving high schooler.
It made him feel good, like someone actually cared.
Justin guided Jesse over to the side of the hallway, out of the foot traffic of students hurrying to their next class. He craned his neck down to look at Jesse-he was stupidly tall, like 6’4 or something.
“Hey, you feeling okay? You’re lookin’ kind of red,” to Jesse’s surprise, the alpha pressed the back of hand to his clammy forehead. It felt so, so nice and cool against his burning skin; he had to hold back a whine, when Justin pulled it away.
What the fuck was that?
“You’re burning up, want me to walk you to the nurse? You should call your mom, go home, Jess.”
“Nah, she made me come today. Gotta go fail this fucking chemistry midterm first, so she and dad can have another thing to bitch at me about.”
“Damn, fuck her for that-here, I might have something to make you feel better at least,” Justin reached into the inside pocket of his letterman jacket and pulled out a joint, “Come burn one with me.”
Being high made everything better, especially with how fucking nauseous he felt, “Fuck yes. I’ll meet you at the dugout after the bell rings.” Justin had brought him and the guys there to smoke before practice a few times. Jesse had been stoked to learn Justin wasn’t as uptight as he looked.
“Why wait? Almost nobody uses the bathroom in D hall, we can hide there. I’m ditching last period anyway, it’s just study hall for me.”
There’s a small part of Jesse that wanted to protest. He’s skipped class too many times to count, and the school loved to narc to his parents about it. Mr. White would for sure call his mom and tell her he’d skip class again. Probably got off on being a snitch. All he wanted to do when he got home was pass the fuck out, the last thing he needed was another two hour lecture. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this awful, he didn’t have it in him to fight with his parents today.
He felt a calloused hand ruffle his hair, that same soothing feeling was coming back. Jesse closed his eyes and learned into it automatically, before he realized what he was doing and pulled away. He wasn’t sure what the hell was wrong with him, he really just wanted to go home.
Justin’s smirked at him, “C’mon, if you’re gonna fail it anyway, what’s the point of taking it? Besides, you’re sick for real. I’ll help you talk to Mr. White about making it up later.”
The hand was back in his hair and Jesse wanted to purr. Justin was right, the outcome was the same, so why waste his time taking the stupid exam anyway?
“Yeah, let’s go.”
-
“Wherever you are, why don’t you just stay there tonight?”
Skyler had hung up on him, banished him from the house for the night. He doesn’t want to hurt her-hide things from her, but it’d hurt her more if she knew the truth.
Jesse had fucked off to god knows where leaving Walt to honor the conditions of their coin flip. Walt was aware of the consequences of leaving Krazy-8 alive, yet it didn’t quell the churning of his stomach.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEP.
The barrage of alarms almost gives him a heart attack. He quickly moves to turn off the alarm clock on the side table by the couch. He hears another high pitched siren coming from the kitchen. Walt handles that one as well.
The blasted noise is still coming from upstairs. He dashes up to the guest room, nearly smashes the damn thing. The ringing persists. Jesus Christ Jesse.
He moves to the omega’s bedroom where the final alarm clock sits on his nightstand. He has no idea how the boy can even live like this, having a cacophony of alarms serenading you every night can’t be good for the heart long-term. Not that Jesse expressed much interest in caring for his health. He strides over to the nightstand, and then recoils.
A blue phallic object rests on a towel on the nightstand, adjacent to the source of the earsplitting noise. It’s about a standard six inches, with a smaller prong coming out of the base. A rabbit, he recalls (Skyler used to watch Sex and the City before bed when it was airing, they had a whole episode about it.)
Walt gingerly reaches out, careful to avoid any accidental contact with the offending device. He holds on the snooze button on the alarmed clock, silencing the damned thing. He sighs in relief, silence at last. He pulls his arm back and knocks the toy off the nightstand with his forearm.
Dammit.
He picks the rabbit up by its base, balances it between his thumb and pointer finger. Jesse used this to pleasure himself. He looks over to the unmade queen-sized bed with rumpled sheets. There's a lingering aroma of happy, satisfied omega. During their day-to day interactions, Jesse’s natural scent was difficult to ascertain due to his chosen perfume of cigarettes, marijuana, cheap cologne, and other odors Walt couldn’t identify. Partnered with his “systemic” application of scent patches, Jesse’s omega pheromones and scent were a ghost of what they should be. Those less sensitive to pheromones, like betas, may have difficulty even identifying him as an omega. Skyler didn’t seem to detect it when she confronted Jesse earlier; Walt knew his pot dealer excuse wouldn’t suffice if she ever did.
Walt inhales deeply, breathing the Jesse’s scent in. It’s a combination of citrus, fresh cut grass and apple-oddly refreshing.
And intoxicating.
He feels a slight stirring in his groin. The last time he smelled pure omega hormones like this, was back when he was with Gretchen. Skyler was a beta, which was never an issue. He was a man of intellect, of reason- he was above letting his knot make decisions for him. Still, he was forced to admit there was an enthralling allure of an omega.
He pauses, a tinge of guilt mixing with his arousal. He was happily married with a family. Jesse was a former student, half his age. Walt was honest with Jesse during their first cook; he had no desire to fuck some druggie omega, regardless of how pleasant he smells.
Shouts come from down below, snapping out of his musings. He’s still holding the rabbit. He returns it back to the towel on the nightstand.
Walt chalks up his arousal to his less than active sex life. He was not attracted to Jesse Pinkman. He was simply pent up; intimacy between Skyler and him had been sparse for a few years. Only recently reignited after he had gassed Emilio and Krazy-8.
Speaking of which-
“Hey! I’m kind of hungry!”
He has more important matters to attend to.
-
Jesse wondered if he was dying. His body felt hot all over, his mind was starting to feel fuzzy, and his stomach kept cramping up. This was worse than any normal flu. He debated if he should take Justin up on his offer to take him to the nurse.
Justin had led him to the bathroom in D Hall. It was previously home to the band room and auditorium, however a new building for those had been constructed over the summer; leaving D hall mostly abandoned. The school planned to turn it into a new science lab next year.
Jesse had opted to sit on the bathroom floor, against the wall by the window. It was kinda gross, but standing took too much energy out of him. To his surprise, Justin joined him on the floor. The alpha lit up the joint and took a long drag before he handed it to Jesse. He followed suit.
Justin draped his arm around him again, and Jesse felt that same hint of relief. Justin did stuff like that a lot. He was a lot touchier with Jesse than most of Jesse’s friends were. At first, Jesse thought it was weird. However, he quickly found himself relishing in the moments where Justin casually touched him; the subtle brushing of his fingers against Jesse’s and light bumping of shoulders. Omegas were more receptive to touch and benefited from regular skin to skin contact with those close to them. A few years ago, he learned in history class that touch deprivation was considered a cruel and unusual form of punishment to omegas. He jokingly brought it up to his parents that night at dinner, told them he might have a decent CPS case. Dad didn’t think it was very funny and sent him to his room for the night.
Jesse handed the joint back to Justin, he burned almost half of it by himself without noticing. The weed hadn’t done much, just made his mind even fuzzier than it already was.
Justin hit it once and passed it back, “You finish it, you need it more than I do.”
“Nah, I’m good. It’s yours, man,” His mouth felt like cotton and his eyelids were heavy. He gave into the temptation to close them, and leaned his head back against the wall.
“I’ve got more stashed in my room. Finish it and I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Dude, if I get anymore stoned you’re gonna have to carry me out of here.” He kept his eyes closed, it felt like too much effort to open them. Justin took his arm away again, and his body feels noticeably hotter without it.
“I could do it easy, I’ll even hold you like a princess. Take you home in a carriage, full royalty treatment.”
Jesse’s blitzed out brain conjured an image of himself in some blue ballgown like Cinderella, with Justin valiantly carrying him bridal style. He giggled at the thought. A lot of ‘megas of all genders wore girly shit, but he wasn’t one of them. His dad would have a heart attack if he saw him that like that.
He felt something press up against his neck, “You’re so fucking cute, Jess,” A different something-this time warm and wet- began to slide up and down his jugular.
Jesse’s eyes flew open, “Dude, what are the fuck are you doing?”
Justin ignored him, continuing to kiss and lick all over his neck. It was good and Jesse felt himself start to get wet between his legs. His hands unconsciously moved to Justin’s shoulders, but he wasn't sure if it was to push him away or pull him closer. Justin was pretty hot, and sure maybe Jesse had thought about what it’d feel like to kiss him a few times, but this felt too fast even for him. He’d dated beta and omega chicks in the past and Jesse was always down for the physical side of a relationship, had gotten pretty good with his hands and mouth. But, he didn’t want his first alpha experience to be on some nasty bathroom floor. Even he had some standards.
The other boy nipped at his neck, “Fuck, you smell so fucking good-”Kiss, “You’ve been making me go crazy since fourth period baby-” Kiss, “Had to jerk off during lunch cause of you-” Nip, “So, so happy I got to you first, fuck I know you did this for me,” Nip.
Jesse pushed him away at that. His brain was toasted from the weed and the fever, and he had no idea what Justin was talking about, “Do what? I didn’t… I didn’t do anything?”
Justin moved his face close to Jesse’s and grinned. It wasn't his usual easygoing smile, it was toothier with curled up lips, almost like a snarl. “Jess, it’s okay. Don’t be shy, you could’ve just told me. I’ve been trying to get in your pants for months now, babe. You didn’t have to show up in preheat just to get me to fuck you. “
Jesse shook his head, he took suppressants, there was no way he was in preheat. He took his dose last night, right? He racked his hazy memory, trying to recall the last time. Last night after the argument with his parents, he took half a gummy and passed the fuck out. The night before? He was playing video games at Badger’s after school and stayed passed curfew. He wasn’t perfect with taking his meds at the same time everyday (who the hell was?) but he wasn’t that much of an idiot that he’d missed two doses in a row. His doctor told him he shouldn’t go one day missing a dose, let alone two. He thought harder-
Sunday-the last time he took a suppressant was Sunday. His mom made meatloaf and Jesse took his pill right after.
Today was Wednesday.
Justin slipped a hand up his shirt and he realized that this was bad. Really fucking bad and he needed to bounce right now. He summoned what little strength he has left and punched Justin in the face. It was weak, way too weak to knock him out, but it caught him off guard enough that Jesse had time to start sprinting to the door.
He was almost there, when he felt Justin grab his hair. There was a mix of pain from his hair being pulled hard, and pleasure because that nice, soothing feeling was back and it eased the burning in his belly. Justin pulled his head back to face him- the alpha’s eyes looked feral, face twisted into some cruel expression. His scent was overpowering now, laced with something bitter that made Jesse keen in submission. Justin pushed him down on all fours by his scalp, pushing his cheek against the bathroom tile. He was so dizzy- from Justin’s scent, from the weed, from his own damn pre-heat.
Jesse sobbed
-
Two homicides, an improper disposal of human remains, and one cancer confession later, Jesse finds himself falling into a rhythm working with Mr. White. They cook during the day, then he spends the night peddling their wares to the fine tweakers of Albuquerque. Mr. White’s cranky, impatient, and doesn’t put up his shit, but Jesse’s learning how to deal with him. A few times he’s even gotten him to crack a smile. He’s making good ass money with their glass, he feels pretty good about how things are going.
Mr. White didn't agree, just bitched at him when Jesse brought him the money he spent all night getting. He wanted Jesse to find a new supplier-like he can just pull one of out his ass.
"So who took Krazy-8’s place?”
“Some guy named Tuco. Badass, from what I hear.”
"Tuco, okay. So then, just talk to Tuco.”
The geezer really thinks that Jesse can just walk up to some big name cartel dude and get him to buy a pound of meth. He tried explaining that’s not how it works, only for Mr. White to tell him to grow some fucking balls.
Jesse debated playing the omega card. Throw it back in Mr. White’s face and make him feel shitty for trying to force some “fragile little omega” to stroll into some big bad drug den. It wasn’t even pure manipulation; walking into unknown territory and doing business alone with someone he didn’t know went against the whole system. The one he already laid out to Mr. White, not that he gave a shit.
After their first cook, Mr. White hadn’t brought up his “condition” again. Jesse couldn’t tell if the cancer already made his way to his brain and was messing with his memory; or if he stopped caring about it. It should’ve bothered him more than it did. Being around Mr. White was weird like that. He’d hurl insults at Jesse at any opportunity. Called him “lazy” and “stupid” and “junkie” or whatever else he felt like. Yet, he never used anything against him when it mattered. The alpha never told Jesse he couldn’t do something because he was an omega, or because he did drugs, or because he was kind of a dumbass sometimes.
Hell, if anything despite his taunts, he’d often overestimate Jesse’s abilities, pushed him to do stuff Jesse never thought he could. He’d handed Jesse’s junkie ass a pound of the purest methamphetamine known to man, and told him not to smoke it all. And Jesse didn’t, because Mr. White wouldn’t have given it to him in the first place if he thought Jesse couldn’t restrain himself.
For whatever reason, Mr. White trusted him. And Jesse didn’t want to fuck it up.
"Jesse has the potential to be quite successful if he chose to apply himself," Mr. White had written on his final report card of junior year.
He wasn’t that much of an idiot, Mr White wasn’t trying to inspire him to change his life, at least not anymore. He knew most of Mr. White’s unreasonable requests were because he was kind of a selfish bastard. But, he had a right to be, too. Mr. White was dying. He had plenty to worry about as it was, he shouldn’t have to spend his limited time worrying about Jesse’s hang ups too.
Jesse spends his afternoon calling his usual hookups.
“Skinny? Hey man, uh question for ya, you ever hear of some guy named Tuco?”
-
“Alright, now does everyone have a pencil, calculator and scratch paper?”
Walt received a few tentative nods.
“You have the rest of the class to complete the exam-you can begin.”
His final period had a midterm today, and Walt expected the entire class to be in full attendance. Thankfully, all of his students understood and came to class today-
Except for one.
Jesse Pinkman’s seat was empty. Walt couldn’t say he was surprised, the boy never put much effort into his academics. Why bother expanding your knowledge and understanding of the universe? Pinkman preferred to reserve his energy for the noble pursuits of using marijuana and drawing overly detailed phalluses on his homework. Walt planned to call his parents and inform them of his unexcused absence, before he left for the afternoon.
About 15 minutes in, Walt realized he needed to use the restroom. He typically attended to such matters before class but had spent the lunch period making copies for the exam. He asked Ms. Reynolds next door to watch his class for a few minutes and excused himself.
The bathroom closest to the chemistry lab was blocked off for cleaning.
“Sorry Mr. White, I’ll be done in just a few minutes,” Hugo called out when he saw him in the doorway.
“It’s fine Hugo, I’ve got a class waiting on me. I’ll use the one in D-Hall instead.”
“If you’re sure. Take it easy, Mr. White!”
Walt made his way to the adjacent hall, and noted to tell Hugo that it may need some attention. The stench of pre-rut and pre-heat pheromones permeated the hall, likely from students passing through. It wasn’t uncommon in a high school, some students may have noticed early symptoms during the school day, and would be excused immediately. Most high school age adolescents had learned to keep track of their biology by now, but mistakes did occasionally happen.
Walt also caught a whiff of cannabis and rolled his eyes. Bathroom shenanigans were also not uncommon in a high school. Dealing with teenage degeneracy wasn’t on his docket for the day, but it came with the territory of being an educator.
He strode to bathroom door, preparing a lecture on the consequences of using illegal narcotics. The pheromones had also gotten much stronger, only they weren't just pre-rut pheromones-there’s the unmistakable scent of an alpha in rut.
Walt yanked open the door, and recoiled in horror.
An alpha student had some omega on his knees, face pushed down against the floor. The omega’s pants have been shucked down to the middle of their thighs, while their t-shirt has been hiked up to their armpits. The alpha’s left hand was tangled in the omega’s hair, his right hidden between pale thighs littered with fingerprint shaped bruises.
The omega looked up at him through teary blue eyes. Their scent was laced with fear and distress.
“Pinkman? Dear God.”
The alpha finally acknowledged his existence at that, growled at the presence of another alpha. He had taken Walt’s class last year, and was often in the school paper- Justin McDonald.
“Justin, son, get up. Get off him. Now.”
Justin pressed himself closer to Jesse, -which evoked a hearty sob in response-and glared back up at him out of spite. He was still growling.
“Justin, I said now. This is assault do you hear? You could go to prison for a long time for this, but it doesn’t have to be like this. Let him go.”
Another growl.
The boy was in full blown rut and was well past of the point of reason. As another alpha, Walt was a threat, his presence was making Justin more aggressive and possessive. The only way to get him off Jesse would be by force. Walt froze at the thought, it was inappropriate for a teacher to ever put their hands on a student. But the end justified the means did it not? Walt ran through other possibilities: he could start yelling for help-but there was no one nearby to hear. He could run and get help, but that would mean leaving Pinkman alone with his assailant for who knows how long. Walt tried to remember proper protocols-but the school didn’t have one in place for a situation this dire.
Jesse looked up at him, as if he can sense his hesitation. His already small frame was dwarfed by Justin’s massive one. “M-Mr. W-White,” He choked out, “Please.”
He made up his mind. Walt padded forward to the pair, until he’s about a foot away. Justin rose in response, clearly understanding the other alpha was not going to leave them alone without a fight. Walt braced himself, the teenage alpha was tall, young and an athlete. Walt was 42 and hadn’t used a gym regularly since 1985.
Walt waited until Justin moved far enough from Jesse, then launched himself at the alpha student. They both tumbled to the ground, Walt clinging on to him, desparate to restrain the hulking mass as much as he can.
“Jesse! Run!”
For the first time ever, Jesse Pinkman did what he said.
-
“You want me to float 35Gs?”
Tuco leans over his desk, and leers back at Jesse, “You don’t trust me?”
Jesse catches another wave of alpha pheromones: a warning. Tuco was one of the those alphas that didn’t bother to cover his scent, the way most alphas and omegas did. Instead, he let it seep out onto everything around him. His base reeked of pungent, possessive pheromones.
Territorial freak.
“Hey, no, no, hey. It’s not that, man. It’s just, you know, I don’t-I don’t do business that way.”
“Tough shit, the deal is done.”
He turns his head back to Skinny for backup, “You said this was cool, okay? Money for meth, cash up front.”
“Don’t front, dude. Tuco’s good for it.”
Tuco stabs the desk with his knife, releasing more pheromones. Jesse’s nose burns with the scent of angry alpha. Don’t panic, don’t panic.
“I don’t need your punk ass to vouch for me!”
Jesse panics.
He grabs the bag and takes off running. He makes it a few feet before Tuco’s goons grab him, “Oh, come on.”
They shove him on the sofa across from Tuco’s desk. The alpha looks him up and down with a smile. The anger in scent has dissipated-God, what the hell was up with this dude and his mood swings- but something else creeps up in its place.
“All right. You brought me some really clean crystal. Whoo! You really want your money up front?”
Tuco opens the safe, and tosses some stacks in a bag. He holds it out to Jesse, “Up front.”
Jesse waits a minute to see if they’re fucking with him. Nothing happens. He cautiously rises and treads lightly towards the safe. Skinny gives him a reassuring smile, like this was all some fucked up initiation he had to pass. He reaches for the bag, only for Tuco pull it away.
“Ah first, come here,” Tuco motions with his index finger. Jesse takes a single step closer to him. Tuco chuckles, then closes the gap between them. His face is inches from Jesse’s. Jesse’s breath hitches.
Tuco snakes his free hand over his shoulder to the back of his neck. His fingers lightly play with the edge of Jesse’s scent patch.
“Now, why don’t you show me how much you want this money, hm? That’s why your partner sent the goods with some little omega slut, right?”
Jesse tries to pull away, but Tuco grips onto his neck.
Jesse’s heart pounds in his chest, No, no, no. He told Mr. White he could handle shit, this wasn’t handling shit.
He cranes his neck forward and bites down on Tuco’s arm as hard as he can. The alpha howls and pulls his arm back. “Little fucking bitch.” He swings the sack of money, and it hits Jesse in the face so hard it knocks him to the ground.
Tuco begins to beat the shit of him with the sack. Kicks Jesse so hard in the ribs he starts spitting up blood.
“Nobody moves crystal in the South Valley, but me bitch!”
-
Jesse got two weeks off school after the “incident.” Half of the first week was spent being the horniest he’d ever been in his life. It was mostly a blur, mostly spent fingering himself so much, his hand cramped. The second half was spent catching up on school work and watching TV. Normally, Jesse would’ve been stoked to fuck off for two weeks, but he couldn’t summon the enthusiasm.
After his heat ended, he felt exhausted. His body felt heavy all the time, and even simple things like brushing his teeth left him feeling drained. He spent a lot of time in bed, but every time he started to doze off, he’d feel Justin’s hands on him. He’d woken his family up with his screams most nights.
The second week was filled with meetings. His parents had meetings with the school, with Justin’s parents, with the police. Jesse had to attend a couple. On Tuesday, an omega cop visited Jesse at the house to get a statement. He waited patiently, while Jesse choked out what happened. Gave him reassuring comments and told him that something would be done. There’s a tinge of guilt at that, that he might be the reason Justin goes to prison.
He’d spent a lot time wondering if he didn’t miss his dose, would Justin have still done it? Did his heat trigger Justin’s rut and make him go crazy? Or was Justin planning on doing something to him the entire time? Was it just a coincidence that Jesse showed up to school in pre-heat?
“Fuck, you smell so fucking good”
“So, so happy I got to you first, fuck I know you did this for me,”
“Don’t be shy, you could’ve just told me. I’ve been trying to get in your pants for months now, babe.”
He didn’t know and he couldn't ask. A part of him wondered if it was better that way.
-
Jesse lays motionless in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines with a brace around his neck. He looks broken, lifeless, almost.
Because of Walt. He shouldn’t have pushed him to go to Tuco. They could have found another way.
“How is he?” He doesn’t take his eyes off Jesse. He can’t take his eyes off Jesse.
“Got some busted ribs and like that,” Jesse’s friend- Slim Peter was it?- responds, “Got messed up pretty good. I was like, Damn, Tuco, chill, ese. I know Jesse bit him first, but-”
Walt actually looks up at that, “Jesse bit him?”
Peter goes silent for a minute, “Yeah, Tuco was tryin’ to get fresh with him, y’know? He started fucking with Jesse’s scent patch and Jesse bit him.”
“And you didn’t stop him?” Walt growls, “Isn’t that why he brought you?”
“Yo, you didn’t think I wanted to? Dude went fucking crazy. Psycho alpha asshole. If I tried gettin’ between them, he’d kill me. We’re lucky they let me leave with him. I got Jesse the fuck out of there as soon as I could. And that’s church.”
Walt returns his gaze to Jesse. The sedated form of his normally energetic, vibrant partner.
“M-Mr. W-White. Please.”
“Tell me about this Tuco. Tell me everything about him.”
-
The court case got dismissed. Justin’s parents hired a really expensive lawyer that argued it was clearly case of “mutual irresponsibility on behalf of both parties.” Per the defense attorney; neither Jesse or Justin took their suppressants properly, therefore they’re both simultaneously guilty and not guilty. It’s only fair that they share the blame, and not let a simple adolescent mistake ruin their futures.
Jesse didn’t understand why he had to plead guilty when he was never on trial to begin with.
His parents were furious, they told the assistant district attorney they wanted to appeal the ruling. Mr. White offered to testify. The ADA advised against it, said the decision was almost certain to hold up- mutual irresponsibility cases were difficult to prosecute even with witnesses, since it boiled down to the lack of medication adherence of those involved.
Jesse was secretly grateful he didn’t have to do the appeal. He’s talked about the “incident” more times than he can count, to various cops, attorneys and doctors. They said talking about things can help you feel better, but all it did was make him feel numb.
J.P. Wynne suspended Justin for two months and kicked him off the baseball team. His parents delivered the news to him, then tried to convince him to go to some private omega-only school. He shot the idea down immediately, Jesse Pinkman wasn’t some bitch who ran away. It ended up in another fight, but through some convincing they let him stay at Wynne. There were even more meetings, and the school agreed to keep the two separate upon Justin's return. They moved Jesse wood shop to a different to period.
His first week back at school, they put on a whole assembly about consent and proper scent etiquette. It was mortifying. He’d already been getting way too much attention, now it was his fault that they had to spend an hour watching some lame ass presentation. Vice Principal Molina said they did it to “address the recent safety concerns.” Which meant they got too many calls from parents freaking out.
He received a lot of looks- from students, teachers, anyone who knows what happened. Most are pitying, some are icy, and couple are fucking creepy. He felt like a spotlight was being shone on him everywhere he went.
Jesse stopped smoking weed for a few weeks, hated the way the taste of it reminds him of Justin’s tongue. But the nightmares kept getting worse and he needed something to sleep, so he hit up Badger after class one day. It became a nightly ritual, the only way he could sleep without Justin visiting his dreams. He started taking hits right before class too, found it keeps his anxiety away when random alphas brushed against him in the hallway.
When Badger pulled out a baggie of white shards, while they’re hanging out one night, he tried it. The meth made his mind feel like a pinball game, pinging from thought to thought every second. For once, fingers and teeth where they don’t belong weren't the only thing he could think about-they’re just another blip on the machine.
Aunt Ginny said he should talk to someone, professionally. His parents disagreed, saying they don’t want to traumatize him further. Jesse knew the real reason was that they didn’t want him ending with up with pills he’ll abuse. He never thought he’d side with his parents over Aunt Ginny; but he was sick of talking about it, sick of everyone looking at him and seeing “the incident” instead of Jesse Pinkman. Even Badger and Emilio had been on edge around him lately.
The only one who didn't treat him differently was Mr. White, even though he ended up with a black eye for his trouble. He didn’t get sappy when Jesse told him thank you, just patted him on the back and told him he was glad he was safe. He had brushed off any claims of heroism the school pushed on him, seemed uncomfortable with the attention more than anything. Jesse didn't blame him.
He even gave Jesse an additional few weeks following his return to make up the chemistry midterm.
He got a D.