"This shit, I swear, is the most retarded part of our job." Jesse scrubs.

"This is salary deduction, is what this is." Jesse continues, "Why doesn't the man upstairs invest in, like, self-cleaning machines? They make self-cleaning ovens. So someone makes self-cleaning lab equipment, right?"

No response from Mr White, who was eyeing the clip boarded charts.

"If they didn't, wouldn't they have to pay chemists extra to do this, or hire lab monkeys? "Nah, it don't work that way unless you're the man."
No, this is the black market, yo. We earn every last dollar we get paid here, huh?" Jesse said sarcastically, while he scrubbed the barrel.

Mr White looked up at him then, pushing his glasses up. He started explaining some stuff about market economy, something about risk and return and shit. Jesse argued that Gus is rich enough, he could just buy new machines. Walt argued something about risk again. Jesse said something sarcastic. They kept arguing till the cacophony dulled to one word huffs, accompanied with the sounds of scrubbing.

What difference is there between risk and reward when death loomed over them both? It added a definite edge to their moods. On a normal day, Jesse mostly kept it together, with an anger trapped to a pissed buzz. Feeling like a pinned wasp, thrashing.

The last time he used was about five hours ago. He didn't use at work so he was trapped between withdrawal and sobriety. His skin crawled with an electrified intensity. He felt grimy, in a way that a hot shower can't fix. He also had a raging libido lately. He was heated in a way a cold shower couldn't cool. He had also been thinking too much about that time he masturbated with Mr White, of all people. Maybe it was kinda weird, kinda hot. It was definitely disturbing.

And maybe that dim, backlit feeling of guilt that flared up now was because he remembered something said at rehab. That all addictions keep us running. Running from facing life or ourselves. Or some hoity bullshit. But cigarettes were cool. Cool as a cucumber, in their book. Like their mushy cucumber heads.

No, it was running from guilt, shame, misery rolled into one hell they call sobriety. Jesse pushed the thoughts aside. He had already gone over the possibility he might be disappointing his aunt or Jane.

Mr White acted as if he didn't care. That pissed Jesse off.

It wasn't like he needed more shit to think about. Thoughts he needed to keep pushed back against the wall. Working with his hands in the lab was normally a good distraction from his thoughts, but today was abnormal. The lab was full of bristling friction.

Jesse stared at the brush's reflection in the vat. He scrubbed some more.

He had an ongoing game at work the past few days. A type of personal solution. It kept him immersed in something else. And Jesse was bored now. He banged on his barrel to a beat, bopping his head. He turned to look at Mr White and said. "We should get some of those laundry people to come in and do this."

Mr White creased his brow. "That's not really a bad idea," he said reflectively at last.

Jesse's spirits lightened. "Yeah? Well, let's say we do it, and go and ditch this place and get a beer."

"Jesse, we are in the doghouse here. Why don't you shut up and get back to work?" Mr White's patience turning to gritty sandpaper.

"Oh, yeah, cause apparently my job is to scrub and your job is to sit on your ass." Jesse mumbled it and turned around and scrubbed some more.

Jesse would wait. Anger was foreplay here. He stuck his head deep in the vat and squirted some alkaline water and scrubbed the fucking barrel. He scrubbed till this shiny thing with its dark interior became like a pristine altar for his deepest regrets to surface. The perfect size to dissolve bodies in acid. He felt like a caged gargoyle, something warped and monstrous.

Jesse needed a smoke. His took out his frustration on the barrel by throwing the scrubber at it with a loud clang. It had been the source of his chain-smoking episodes at work lately.

No response from Mr White. Jesse was annoyed. He felt flushed. His nerves buzzing under his skin.

"It's getting really hot in here," Jesse complained. "Yo, bitches, how 'bout some AC?" he asked a camera.

That got a wary look from Mr White. Last time Jesse said that, he stripped down to his boxers and tucked back into his hazmat suit. He was pretty sure then Mr White was staring at him. Then afterwards Jesse would lean on his partner's shoulder with some joke or insult, smelling his partner's aftershave. Mr White seemed awkward about it afterwards.

Jesse walked over to where Mr White was sitting. Jesse took off his glove to wipe his face with his hand and noticed how his partner's eyes watched the movement of his tattooed hand slide across the sweat on his face – and yeah, maybe he slightly exaggerated the sensuality of the movement. Jesse felt a small victory earned. He put his gloves on the table.

Jesse smacked a hand on a chart. "Yo, I'm gonna grab a smoke."

Mr White narrowed his eyes and busied himself with the charts.

Jesse took a harsh drag from his cigarette. He pulled his shirt over his head, careful to avoid his lighted smoke, and shivered at the cold. He tried to get these sparks to fly off his skin like a dog shaking water off. to He felt like fighting or fucking. Something to get rid of this disconnected feeling.

Throwing his shirt over his shoulder, he brought the cigarette to his lips for another drag. He pondered his situation with his partner. Anything other than the current fucked up Gus predicament. Jesse's game was to test Mr. White's homo-meter for him. Jesse figured he had some ability to turn up charm like a magnet . It was part of the basic street smarts he gained in his slinging years.

It was all about the right execution. For a moment, he missed those days. Kinda weird because he never thought he would miss that shit. The ups and downs, the adrenaline rush. Had to be sly, had to be aware. Assessing the crowds, adapting to the circumstances. Being slippery enough to avoid prison and drug deals gone wrong. That swaggering feeling of doing something you're good at.

He was working the streets just fine 'til along comes Mr White. Pushing him into situations he knew he shouldn't be in.

It felt foolish. Jesse wanted to prove that Mr White wanted him.

Those sensitized survival instincts were signaling him that this was a bad game he was playing. His libido said otherwise. Jesse was feeling reckless. He needed escape.

Mr White was a hard read. It wasn't like Jesse was brimming with experience with dudes. Jesse was guessing things weren't going too well at home with all the barbs Mr White would sometimes blurt out about his wife.

When the cigarette was finished, Jesse renounced himself back to the toils of work.

"Jesse! Can't you do anything right?"

Back in the lab, Jesse was greeted by barking. Something about how he flubbed the measurements on the charts. Yeah, so he got lazy on the math. He just wanted Mr White to stop giving him that damn job. He'd rather scrub the barrels.

Jesse pulled his hazmat over his bare shoulders.

"Wow, Jesse." Mr White's voice was cynical. He picked up a chart, a syringe dangling in the other hand. "This is a basic task." The judgment on his face could bring down holy men.

Jesse felt the anger sinking down again, a habit he customized especially for dealing with Mr White. Submission was usually the best course of action when his partner was in one of those moods, but Jesse couldn't help but point out something. Jesse leaned in close.

"Yeah, yo, maybe I'm not cut out for this table scraping work shit like you are," his voice low and wet with sarcasm. Jesse licked his lips and bit back a smirk. "But you really shouldn't do what you're doing."

"What?"

"You're using the wrong syringe for the samples. Duh."

Mr White hissed and spat out words like a venomous viper when he realized Jesse was right. He knocked over a vial.

"Chill out, dude!" The guy was on edge. Jesse scrambled out of his way and went to grab some cleaning supplies. Jesse brushed his hand against Mr White's as he handed him a paper towel.

"Thank you, Jesse." Mr White seemed unnerved.

"Is everything ok?"

Mr White narrowed his eyes. "No, it is so precisely apparent it's the exact opposite," he said sharply. He softened slightly when he noticed that Jesse actually seemed concerned.

Jesse waited. He waited for some truth to be spoken about their fucked up situation, or something to do with that damn carwash he brings up sometimes. Something instead of these outbursts of anger. Instead, Mr White just picks up the right syringe and dips it into the solution. His posture the air of obscurity.

Jesse decided for another smoke. He unzipped his hazmat and turned for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Commanding authority resounded through that tone. Jesse didn't like it one bit.

"To smoke another cigarette, yo. Do I need to restate to you that we're both lab managers here and you can't helicopter me?"

"Jesse, for as long as we've been working together you typically smoke one or more cigarettes every one and a half hour." Mr White said it in his pissed, preaching tone. "Not every 30 goddamn minutes."

Jesus fucking christ. He knows his smoke breaks?

"What do you think you've been doing, Jesse? - you've been doing this the whole time today... What is this?"

Was Mr White talking about the flirting? Or whatever you could call it, cause Jesse didn't know.

"What?" The cigarette was already being put to his lips.

His partner slow stepped him, with that threat of menace imminent in his posture. He wasn't fooling Jesse. Heisenberg or Mr White. It was all the same to him.

"This scrubbing of barrels over and over again the past two days. You already scrubbed that one yesterday and we are falling behind on schedule." Mr White was looming over him now, his face just over his shoulder. Jesse could feel his breath.

Jesse yanked the cigarette from his mouth. He almost blurted out why the hell he didn't point this out sooner, but the endless circles of this argument could be cut to the chase. Jesse turned to stare at the asshole. Jesse's mouth was just inches from his. "Eat me."

Mr White grabbed him by his hair. Jesse reacted by grabbing his partner's hazmat suit around the throat.

In the scuffle, Mr White managed to throw Jesse's back against the wall. "What the hell is wrong with you! You're obviously using again. You're a mess at work."

"Oh, is that all?" Jesse huffed a sarcastic laugh. His head instinctually tugged against the hard grip in his hair. Jesse bit back the pain. He ground his hips against Mr White's groin.

Mr White cast his eyes down. The dawn of understanding spread across his face. "Is this what you wanted? Is that what all this has been about?" His voice dared Jesse if he could handle what he got himself into.

It was a dangerous, manipulative game Jesse was playing. He knew this. At the precipice, every survival instinct was judging him for being a fool. A nag tugged him; there is something deeper than this you don't yet understand.

Mr White flung Jesse around and pushed him against the wall. He ground his hard dick against Jesse's ass. Jesse saw his scorpion tattooed hand pressed on the painted cinder brick; the betrayals will sting deeper.

But bad attention was better than no attention. Jesse took to that statement sometimes like it was the meaning of his life.

Jesse ground himself against his partner's groin.

Pressed against the wall and his partner gave Jesse a stabilizing sense of security he hadn't felt in weeks. Mr White grabbed Jesse's hand and ground it against Jesse's groin. Jesse didn't need telling twice. Jesse unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his cock out and started stroking it. He heard his partner behind him unzipping his own hazmat suit.

Mr White turned Jesse around and pulled out his cock from his hazmat. "Suck it."

"Um, dude, nooo..." Jesse panicked, eying his former teacher's hard on. The masturbation thing they did was one thing, but he was not going to blow Mr White.

"Jesse..." Mr White was firmly insistent.

"I can't – I'm not read—NO, I am not going to suck a dick."

Mr White flings Jesse against the wood table and up against another wall. Walter stroked a hand across Jesse's chest to move the rest of the suit off his bare torso. Jesse flinched at that. For one, it caused a horny shiver. For another, it was not something Mr White did last time and it felt a little too intimate. The sodium light of the lab of a sudden seemed too bright. His pupils felt constricted. He was way too alert for strange territory.

Hands snaking through his hair gave Jesse something else he needed a beat to comprehend. Mr White pulled Jesse's head back while he bit and kissed his neck. The kisses travelled down to the tattooed spot on his chest. They burned and chilled like lava coals. He allowed a low, shuddery moan to come out because it did feel really good and it had him hard again.

Jesse made a desperate moan that said can you pick up the pace damn it. He wrenched his hair from Mr White's fingers and kissed him. Even more strange territory. He tried to kiss with a pace that matched the slow burning scrape of his partner's kisses. Mr White let him. The feeling was really strange, trying to impress another dude with your kissing skills.

When Mr White returned the kiss, it was rough, controlled. It bristled with an edge. It was different. It got Jesse even harder anyway and he didn't have to keep doubting his kissing standards. It warmed up the ball of worry and had Jesse's hands swarming all over his partner's body.

Mr White spat into his hand and started stroking Jesse's cock, and fuck, that is good. It almost slithered away from his awareness that his suit and jeans were on the ground and Mr White had Jesse's leg hooked on the crook of his elbow. His foot able to rest on the table.

Jesse's blood runs icy hot. The wall behind his back is cold, too hard. His legs spread in the worst way. He feels heady and swoony. He remembers again that time he masturbated with Mr White and yeah, he got fingered, but there was no way in hell he was getting fucked then. Yeah, it felt really good when his partner grazed that spot. His partner spat on his hand stroked himself. They looked at each other then. Their eyes said that there were no lies here.

Once his partner was inside, the pain was huge. If Mr White didn't have a hold on his thigh, Jesse would've instinctually bucked himself right out of the situation. Jesse gritted his teeth and slewed out cuss words. Mr White actually had the nerve to put a hand over his mouth then. Jesse should've used more force in his grip on Mr White's wrist, but Mr White said something about relaxing.

So Jesse did. Soon the thrusts were not so painful, and Jesse could feel that spot being rubbed. He felt it in his lower belly, coiled tightly in condensed pleasure. His curses turned to muffled moans. That was what Mr White wanted, right? This was all just part of the game.

"This is it - where you wanted me - right?" Jesse was down to shallow breaths once his partner removed his hand. A sarcastic sneer curled Jesse's lips. Jesse was calling his domineering, dictating dick of a partner out.

"Jesse.." Mr White's tone threatened that there was no escaping this.

"You like this."

Mr White shoved Jesse's leg back towards his chest. "Shut up." It was all it took. Whatever Jesse was originally going for got lost in the lurid thickness. It fueled his need to escape. It also left him with no place to hide, and he was tired of hiding.

Jesse moaned while Mr White increased the thrusts. Jesse's hand stroked his cock, the other gripped the table. Jesse clenched around his partner and got a groan from him, who dropped his head down on Jesse's shoulder. Mr White bit his neck again and shoved Jesse harder against the wall. Jesse's head would've slammed against it if Mr White didn't have his hand back, tugging viciously at his hair again. Jesse came all over his hand, his partner following quickly after.

They breathed on each other a few moments. Mr White pulled himself out, and Jesse had the awful sensation of cum running down his leg. Jesse hissed through his teeth. His hand clenched the table in embarrassment. Jesse got his leg back and Mr White reached across the table to grab him a paper towel.

"Sorry." His partner said faintly.

"What are you doing tonight?" Said it breathlessly. Jesse figured after something like that they could maybe get a beer.

"I have to be at home tonight." Mr White pulled his hazmat suit over his shoulders and left it at that as he made his way to the lockers. Leaving Jesse to stand there to clean up the awkward mess.

"Oh, yeah. That's cool. I have some plans tonight as well, like, thanks for asking." Jesse left the sarcasm there. He pulled on his jeans.

Mr White sighed with a weary shrug of his shoulders. Finished buttoning his shirt. He gave Jesse a what-do-you-want-from-me look.

Just like that, huh? It was back to communication that fell like distant echoes across the dams that the each of them constructed. His partner fucked him and dismissed him.

He waited till his stomach stopped sinking. Mr White went up the stairs.

"Are you okay?" Mr White asked down at him.

Jesse huffed some lie about being fine.

His partner left. The door clanging shut reverberated throughout the lab. Jesse could only slide down the wall, not knowing the difference between hurt or angry in the aftershocks.

An image of hilarity followed that train of thought. Seriously? Him and Mr White chilling? Like that was never anything other than an aggravating experience.

The first and only genuine laugh Jesse had that day echoed in the lab.