#jesse x reader

You placed your phone back down on the table in front of you and settled down, exhaling audibly. Gus had explained to you that Walter had called him about switching Gale out with someone else, specifically his old partner. You didn’t know anything about Walter’s previous partner, except for the fact that Gus had described him as careless and a junkie, expressing that he would be a liability to the business. Your boss had also told you that this change would, in fact, be happening, and you would be meeting ‘Jesse Pinkman’ tomorrow in the lab.

A wave of relief washed over you, glad to not be in trouble in any way, but you also felt a pang of anger at Walter. You hated the way he treated you and Gale earlier today, and now he’s asking to change partners over one mistake.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The following day you were back in the lab with Gale and Walter. Fortunately enough, you didn’t have to be the one to tell Gale that he was getting replaced. Unfortunately, you had to be there to see it happen.

“I don’t understand? I thought things were going pretty well,” Gale questioned Walter, “You know? We were becoming a real team.”

“Not- Not so much, no.”

“Is this about the temperature setting? I can assure you that will never happen-”

“No, it’s bigger than that, Gale,” Walter sighed, “It’s much more than that.”

You felt agitated, “Could you elaborate?” you asked him, raising your eyebrows.

“Well, yes, of course I could-” he started.

Gale instantly interrupted him, “I set up the entire lab,” you could hear Gale’s anger in his voice but also his sadness, “You said you liked the configuration.”

Walter stepped closer to Gale, “And I do. Look, you’re a fine chemist, really, with a promising future. It’s just that I- That we have different rhythms, Gale. You see- It’s… It’s as if I’m classical…” he paused for a second to think, “But you are more jazz.”

“Jazz,” Gale reiterates.

“Jazz, yes. And God knows there is nothing wrong with jazz,” Walter tells him, “It’s simply that I require…”

You butt into the conversation again, “Walter wants to work with his old partner,” you tell Gale bluntly.

Walters mouth falls open slightly, “I- Well, he just fits my tempo better- And Gale it honestly was great-”

Before he could continue his explanation, the door opens suddenly, shifting the emotions swirling in the room. Those emotions soon turned into confusion.

The person that came walking through that door was nothing but the opposite of classical as Walter had mentioned. Gus had told you that you would be meeting Jesse Pinkman today, you really didn’t expect something like this. He wore multiple layers of baggy clothes, his hair was unkempt and messy, and his face was busted up. He was quite literally the polar opposite of Walter.

“Oh, shit,” Jesse gawked at the lab below him, “Man, this is the bomb!”

He quickly made his way downstairs and walked up to Walter and slapped him on the chest.

“What’s up, partner?” he greeted him as he began to carelessly stroll around the lab, fixating his attention on the large, sparkling equipment around the room.

Gale’s eyes followed the younger man as he walked away, “Is this my replacement?” he asked solemnly. As Jesse came around to the coffee bench, Gale quickly introduced himself to the man, “Hi, Gale. Nice to meet you,” he gave him a slight wave.

“What’s up?” he briefly responded, making eye contact with him for a second before quickly looking at you. He walked up to Walter again and stood between him and Gale, “Man, we should’ve ditched that RV months ago. It’s all, like, shiny up in here.”

Jesse continued to walk around and occasionally make gasps and comments about the lab.

“I’m sorry, I must be missing something. I don’t mean- I don’t mean to be- This makes no sense,” Gale stuttered, “Did you know about this?” he turned to ask you.

You gulped and pressed your lips into a firm line before reluctantly answering, “I only found out last night.”

Gale’s gaze dropped to the floor, “So I guess this is…”

He didn’t continue his sentence. Bringing his hand out to shake Walter’s, he walks out of the lab with his head hung low. After Gale leaves the room, Walter urgently turns to you before you start making disapproving comments or expressions.

“This is for the best.”

You roll your eyes, “Two hundred pounds a week, yes?” you tell him.

“Yes.”

Jesse strolls back up to Walter, “Mr. White, wow.”

Walter steps back from you and turns to Jesse before turning back to you. He opens his mouth but then shuts it, unsure of what to say next. Eventually he collects his thoughts and gestures to Jesse and then back at you.

“Uh, Jesse, this is Y/N, they’re our supervisor, for now.”

You force a smile as Jesse looks at you properly this time.

“Yo, why do we need a supervisor now?” he grumbles.

Your hands tighten around the clipboard slightly, “Gus told me I have to. I’ll be out of your way.”

Jesse rolls his eyes whilst he rolls his tongue in his mouth, “All right, fine.”

“Okay, there’s a lot to show you, some new techniques to learn,” Walter motions Jesse over to the other side of the room, right past you.

Jesse’s eyebrows raise a little, “What, now?”

“Yes, now,” Walter says as he walks to the lockers, “We’ve only got a couple days before our next batch is due. And I need to get you up to speed.”

Jesse stands still for a second before responding, “Right on, I’m just saying…” he asks, scratching the side of his head, “How’s the cell service down here?”

“It’s nonexistent,” you tell him, “There’s a hard line for emergencies,” you say while pointing to where the phone is on the wall.

Jesse’s eyes follow your finger before looking back at Walter, “So, you haven’t talked to anybody today? Other than, you know, Captain Nerd there,” dragging his eyes up to the door Gale had walked out of minutes ago, “and Big Brother.”

His comment makes you breath out through your nose audibly.

“Why?” Walter turns to look at Jesse.

“Your brother-in-law.”

“What about him?”

Jesse’s demeanour shifts, “He’s um, like, I saw him get taken to a hospital in an ambulance.”

“What?” Walter’s voice becomes stern.

His eyebrows tighten and he immediately stops unbuttoning his shirt. The sound of the locker shutting reverberates throughout the lab as Walter begins to walk towards the spiral stairs.

You follow his pace and attempt to stand in his way, “Wait- Walter- You can’t just leave-”

His face grows more heated, “No I have to go-” you reluctantly step to the side to let him past.

He speed-walked to the door as he buttoned his shirt up again.

“What about the cook?” You yelled out.

Walter opens the door, just as he’s about to shut the door behind him, he yells back at you, “We can catch up later.”

You scoff out loud.

“Are you kidding me?” you turn to Jesse, who was still standing in the same spot.

He barely shrugs, as if he doesn’t really care.

Your eyebrows raise at his reaction, or lack thereof, “You don’t care?”

“I mean, not really? He’ll be back.”

“You know how to work these?” you ask Jesse, gesturing to the machines.

He looks at them once more, “I- No?”

You nod your head while you whisper a quiet “Of course” under your breath. Jesse trills his lips as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his oversized jacket with a ridiculous money pattern all around it. As he walks around aimlessly, not saying anything, or even making eye contact with you, you hands come up to rub your forehead. You lazily sit down on one of the nearby chairs and place your clipboard onto a table.

Jesse flops down onto a nearby swivel chair, “So uh, we just chillin’ till he comes back?”

“I guess that’s the plan since we both don’t know how to use any of this.”

He glances at you, “Isn’t that like, your job?”

“No, that is not my job.” you glare at him, furrowing your eyebrows.

For the next twenty minutes, nothing happens. Occasionally, Jesse gets up from his seat to walk around the lab, humming and making sounds with his mouth to fill the silence. You remain in your seat flipping through the pages on your clipboard of notes from the previous days, your other hand trailing your fingers up and down the edges of the hardboard material.

Mind numbing thoughts danced around in your head as the boredom slowly became unbearable. You fought the urge to start ripping all the hairs off your head to feel anything at this point. It was always boring with Gale and Walter but at least you were doing something.

Eventually you looked at the emergency phone by the wall. Your fingers reached for the corner of the pages on your clipboard, you flipped through to the day Walter had given you his number for a ‘just in case’ scenario. You flipped the pages that were in front of the one with his number, over the top of the board and held them behind with your fingers. The chair slid back as you stood up and walked past Jesse who was doing another roundabout tour of the lab.

“What’re you doing?” he asked you from behind.

“Calling him.”

You pick up the phone, the chill of the plastic spreading across your palm. You hold up the paper with his number and using the other hand that’s holding the phone, you press each number in. After dialling his number, you hold the phone up to your ear and wait.

Nothing happens.

“Fuck.” you huff out, placing the phone back.

Jesse comes up next to you and grabs the phone, “Let me try something.”

While holding the phone in his left hand, his right starts pressing a different set of numbers. As the phone dials, he holds the phone up to his ear. You look at him blankly. You both wait for someone to pick up the call, and as you wait, you notice his baggy sleeve falling down his arm, revealing a decent sized tattoo along his hand and arm. A simple observation.

A second passes and Jesse finally speaks, “Hi, I would like to speak to someone… Not a patient… Like someone that’s visiting.”

Jesse was calling the Hospital that Walter was at.

“Yeah uh, Walter White,” Jesse spins around to lean against the landline, his other hand up to his mouth as he nervously bites his nails.

You look at him with raised eyebrows. He notices your look at covers the phone.

“He’s still at the hospital,” he says, “they’re getting him I think.”

Another minute passes and Jesse finally makes contact with Walter.

“Yo, we working sometime this year?”

You can only hear Jesse’s side of the conversation so you decide to place the clipboard on the table beside you and sit back down. You fold your arms on the table and lay your head on them while you listen to Jesse’s voice.

“We tried your cell and obviously you didn’t pick up. How else do we get a hold of you?”

“Look, man. It’s been a whole day. How long is this grieving process? Just put a clock on it for me. All I’m saying is we have a schedule, right?”

“Dude, it’s not my schedule. We have responsibilities here.”

You can feel his eyes on you when he says that.

“You know what? Whatever. I’ll just cook on my own.”

“Why not?”

“There’s gotta be some sort of manual, right? And I can read. Or- or I’ll just ask Y/N to help me.”

“Yo, stop treating me like I’m your assistant. I’m not your bitch to order around. We’re partners, remember?”

“What, is your wife there?”

“Hey, tell your douche bag brother-in-law to head towards the light.”

Jesse roughly shoves the phone back. A loud sigh leaves his mouth, his eyes on the phone before he turns around to your direction, briefly making eye contact with you.

“Okay, so what’s happening now?” you ask him, your head is still laying on your folded arms.

He shoves his hands back into his jacket pockets, “Dude, I don’t know, can’t we just… figure it out?”

“I told you I don’t know how to use the machines,” you slowly lift your head up to rest it on the palm of your hand, “that’s not part of my job,” you accentuate the ‘b’.

Jesse immediately flings his hands out of the pockets and starts gesturing to you and your clipboard, “You take notes, right?” he pauses and you nod slightly, “We could like, piece it together and shit.”

You turn your head away to hide your smile, “Oh yeah,” you chuckle at him, “have fun with that.”

“Yo, I’m just trying to improvise, you know?”

You think for a second before reaching your hand out to grab the clipboard again, “Alright, fine.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You both did have fun with it. Too much fun.

Everything that was happening within the lab had no semblance of a professional work environment, instead it looked more like break time at a primary school. It started out very subtly, small jokes and laughs, soon escalated into literally messing around in the lab. Looking through drawers and containers even you hadn’t seen, playing around with the machines (safely), and even gossiping about how much Walter had pissed the both of you off.

You hadn’t worked (“worked”) with anyone who was around your age, you were always surrounded by older people who were always so serious and it felt like no one ever cracked a smile, aside from Gale, but you still felt like you were on a different wavelength than him. Maybe Walter had a point.

Jesse opened one of the lockers and grabbed the hazmat suit and started unzipping it, “Wait let me look more professional,” he stumbles over his feet as he huffs out small giggles.

"I actually hate these so much,” you say while laughing, “I don’t think you’ll ever catch me wearing that.”

“What so you’d rather get all the chemically poisonous fumes all in your clothes.”

“You know what, yeah I would.”

He zips up the suit all the way up to his neck, fitting the tight hood over his heads so that the only part of him you could see was his bruised and beat up face. Jesse steps away to drag a swivel chair to one side of the lab.

“Yo, push me.”

You don’t even answer him but you get up to jog over to where he is. His suit crinkles against the material of the chair as he tries to fit his whole body on the seat. For the next few minutes you push the chair with as much force as you could, sending him flying to the other side of the lab, occasionally letting him crash into the wall and other boxes. The sound of the both of you laughing like children brought you so much joy that you had been devoid of for a long time.

The both of you got your hands on some sort of device that blew out copious amounts of air, blowing your hair straight out of your face as you turned it on. You pushed the head of the tube towards Jesse’s direction, blowing the air into his own face and hair.

He unzipped his suit slightly, “Give it here.”

You pushed it towards him again, angling the stream of air away from his face this time. Jesse grabbed it and stuffed the opening into the opening of his hazmat suit, slowly filling it up with air. You snickered as he danced around on the spot.

The sound of the door clicking open made you flinch and your heart drop for a second, Jesse didn’t seem to care, thinking it was Walter.

“Finally, about damn time.”

You had your eyes on the door and the pair of eyes that came into contact with yours did not belong to the man you were waiting for.

“Why isn’t there anything cooking?” Another man, Victor, asked the both of you.

Jesse had realised that it wasn’t Walter and started to quickly pat all the air out of his suit, ripping the tube out and switching it off.

You felt your ears burn and your mouth going dry, “Um, Sorry, Walter isn’t here, like he was and then he left and we don’t know how to use the machines or anything,” you rambled on.

“Why did he leave?”

Jesse quickly answers him before you can, “Yo, that was like, totally my fault, I told him something and that caused him to like, run out, okay?”

Victor stared at you both for a few seconds, his face emotionless, before turning and leaving the lab without saying a single word after that.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You and Jesse were sat silently, exactly like how the beginning of this started. You could notice in the corner of your eye, Jesse, once again, bored out of his mind, tapping his fingers against the table, dragging his palms over his face, raking his fingers through his hair, bouncing his leg. In the midst of the stillness, the landline rang. Your eyes shot up to the phone. You steadily got up and walked over to the phone and picked it up, holding it to your ear and mouth.

“Y/N?”

You heard the voice of Gus on the other side. You silently cursed to yourself as the anxiety started to build up within your body.

Taking a breath in, you answered, “Yes?”

“What is going on?”

“Oh, yeah, so… Walter was here and then Jesse told him about his brother-in-law, who is in the hospital-”

“I know Walter left, Victor called me,” he interrupted you, “Why are you messing around in the lab?”

“I-”

“I need you to act professionally, I can’t have someone with that behaviour working for me.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

He hung up. You placed the phone back.

When you turned around to walk back to your seat, you saw Jesse looking at you for a brief moment before he quickly turned away, pretending that he wasn’t watching you take the call. Falling back into your seat, you folded your arms on the table and rested your head on them, your face turned to the side.

“Uh, you good?” Jesse asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to sound as un-phased as you could.

The sound of his chair shifting was followed by footsteps walking away from you.

“Maybe, I could try calling him again.”

You didn’t answer him.

The sound of Jesse arguing with Walter on the phone bounced around in your head as you scribbled and doodled nonsense on the paper of your clipboard. Your pen slipping out of your fingers more than once from the sweat accumulating on your fingertips and palm. Your brain replayed the moment of Victor catching you both not doing the work you were supposed to be doing, and then your boss calling you about it. The disappointment and sternness of his voice echoed in your ears. The unfriendly eyes of Victor burned into your head.

The sound of Jesse scoffing brought you out of your our thoughts. You saw him slam the phone back onto the landline before he turned to you.

“I don’t know what the hell he’s doing!” he dragged his hands down his face, muffling his words.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, well, I don’t know either.”

A bout of silence followed.

“Yo, you good? Like seriously, you’ve been all flat since you got that call,” Jesse looked at you sincerely.

You dropped your pen fully, “Yeah, uh, I just got a call from my boss asking about what was going on, It’s fine,” you brought your hand up to your hair and played with it, twisting it around your finger and raking it back, “Look, maybe we should just leave, I don’t think anything is going to get done, if Walter comes back it’s going to be too late.”

“Yeah… okay…” Jesse rubs the back of his neck.

You and Jesse were outside, standing by your parked cars, the chattering and clattering of the workers of the laundry facility filled your ears. Your fingers brushed your car door and just as you opened it, Jesse stepped into view.

“Hey, I’m sorry for getting you in trouble and shit, that was my fault, and I should have just kept my mouth shut when Mr. White was there,” his mouth forced a smile, expressing some sort of guilt.

You looked at him, “It’s okay,” you smiled warmly, “I had a fun time anyway.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The sound of your car tires against the rough pavement came to a halt as you parked in your driveway. Just as you turned the keys, your phone buzzed. You reach into your pocket and flip the phone open with your fingers, the vibrations of the call travelled through your fingertips as you stared at the screen. Answering the phone, you brought it up to your ear.

“I want 400 pounds by next week.”

WAITING ON THE NEXT CHAPTER...

a/n: whoops i WAS DOING ARTFIGHT AND IM EMPLOYED OK!!!!!!! im sorry a chapter this short does not take this long!! so so sorry.

ive also been rewatching breaking bad with my mum cus she hasnt seen it ^^ but hopefully ill actually lock in?

"Fives, I swear if you burned something again, you’re losing kitchen privileges,” you groaned, opening a window to air out lingering smoke.

"It's not burned, it's caramelized," Fives explained, holding the pan up like evidence in his own defense.

Kix squinted at the pan from across the room, “You sure you don’t mean carbonized?”

You finished opening the last window and leaned against the counter with your arms crossed, watching Fives try to salvage the pot of who knows what. "Give it," you sighed, holding out a hand toward the pan. Fives passed it over without argument. You skimmed the burnt layer off the top, gave the food a stir, and handed it back like nothing happened.

Over in the living room, Jesse was sitting on the couch, unusually quiet. When you looked up, you realized he was watching you with the same unreadable expression he'd been giving you more and more lately. He broke eye contact the instant he was caught. You wanted to ask him about it, but with Fives in the kitchen, you figured now wouldn’t be the best time. 

"Ready to eat?" Hardcase asked you, already sliding a plate your way before you even reached the counter.

You glanced down at the plate, "Did Fives make all of it?"

"Hey!" Fives snapped, tossing a dirty dish towel onto the counter. “It’s better than the rations we used to get.” 

"Anything is better than the rations we used to get," Tup muttered, squeezing himself into a spot at the table. 

You joined him at the too small table with too many chairs pulled up around it. The house belonged to nobody and everybody. When the war ended, the Senate was able to set up decommission pensions for all the clones. It wasn’t much, but pooled together, it was enough for a group of 501st boys to get this house. To no surprise, the Jedi Order didn’t give you anything when you left. But, the boys weren’t going to leave their general behind. You were technically ‘just staying’, but before long, the room you were staying in pretty much became yours permanently. In a way, you felt bad, but the boys insisted it was the least they could do after all you’ve done for them during the war. 

By the time dinner was eaten and the dishes were done, the boys were ready to make their ways to their separate rooms to wind down for the night. You, however, weren’t tired at all.  You slipped out the back door instead, and sat down on the patio sofa, listening to the wildlife wake up for the night. You began to lose track of time sitting out there, when the sudden sound of the door hissing open broke through the silence. 

"Are you asleep?"

You didn't have to turn around to identify who it was. After years at their sides during the war, you were able to pick up the slightest differences in their voices. “Yeah, I am. Out cold actually."

That earned you a laugh from Jesse, "I didn't know Jedi could sleeptalk."

"Former Jedi,” you corrected him. “But, I’m sure we all sleeptalk, even you."

Jesse shook his head as he lowered himself down on the patio sofa beside you. His shoulder brushed yours as he settled. To any onlookers, it would have seemed like a romantic gesture, but after spending so much time in cramped quarters with the very boys you now live with, the gesture became completely meaningless. His one leg was bouncing slightly before he caught himself and attempted to stop it with no luck. It was almost like his body didn't understand that there was nothing left to be restless about.

"You always do this," Jesse noted, picking stray leaves off the sofa. 

"Do what? Sit outside at night? I think this is the most normal thing I’ve done in a long time,” you rolled your eyes and reached out for one the leaves Jesse took off the couch, then threw it at him.

He laughed, flicking the leaf away, "No. I mean coming out here instead of sleeping."

You considered making a joke, but you went with the honest response instead, "I just enjoy the sounds of the wildlife at night. It’s not something you’d ever get on Coruscant or in an active warzone." You glanced over at him, "But hey, you're one to talk. I don't think I've seen you sleep past 0600 since we got here."

"Old habits," he brushed it off, then changed the topic completely, "You remember that mission on Felucia? The one with that deep cliff side?"

You shrugged, trying to pinpoint which of the many missions he was referring to, "Maybe? I just remember it being disgustingly humid for a place so pretty."

"The one where Tup lost his footing and began to tumble down that cliff,” he clarified, shaking his head in disbelief, “You jumped right off that cliff to get him. It looked like you didn’t even hesitate for a second. You just went. I remember thinking, that's the most reckless thing I've ever seen a Jedi do, and I really hope she does that again sometime."

You laughed, "That’s awful! Why would you want me to jump off a cliff?"

"Oh no, I agree. I was just shocked you were willing to do something like that for one of us. I was kind of badass.” Jesse now had his whole body angled toward you without seeming to notice he did it. "Then on Anaxes, when Rex nearly thought he was losing his mind over thinking Echo was still alive. It seemed like Rex was pleading his case to every General and getting speculation in response. But you just have him that look and-"

"What look?"

"You know the look." He gestured at your face, then threw his head back, smiling. "The one that let us all know that you believed in us."

You playfully scoffed, "That's leadership, Jesse."

"Sure, we can call it leadership. But it meant a hell of a lot more than leadership to us." Jesse emphasized the last part, giving you a lazy mock salute. 

You bumped his shoulder with yours. Instead of staying put, he let the motion carry him a little closer to you. "You know Jesse, you seem to remember a lot for someone who just a few months ago claimed he wasn't paying attention half the time during the war."

"Yeah," he admitted, dropping his gaze to his hands in his lap. "Thinking back, I remember a lot of it. More than I probably should. Maybe if I paid closer attention to, I don’t know, formations, different strategies, aiming technique, anything that wasn't you, then maybe I could have gotten the ARC promotion sooner."

You went still. "Wait, you what?"

"I've been trying to figure out how to say this for a long time," he sighed, lacing his hands together tight enough that his knuckles began to go pale. "It all started as just noticing the kind things you did. And then somewhere it stopped being just noticing and started being more than that. There was never a good time to say it, because you were a Jedi, and I was just a clone. No matter how many sleepless nights I spent running each scenario over in my head, each one ended horribly.” 

He glanced at you quickly, checking your face before he kept going, "But then when the war ended you actually left the Order. I can’t even begin to imagine that decision process. I know you did that for your own reasons, but now it means that I can say what I want to say without it being against some code, or something that I have to hide.”

"Jesse. What are you-” 

"I like you," he cut you off, finally getting his feelings off of his chest. "I have for a long time and I didn't want to keep sitting on it because somehow, that feeling keeps growing each day."

At your lack of reaction, he immediately started to freak out. "You don't have to say anything," he stammered, the words coming out fast. "Seriously, you don't owe me anything. I just-"

"Stop," you hushed him, reaching out to take hold of his hands. "You didn’t panic once throughout the war, and this is what finally does it?"

Jesse blinked, a disbelieving chuckle coming over him as he finally let the tension in his shoulders drop. "Right. Yeah, okay." He straightened up, gathering himself. "Would you, or, well, I would like to take you somewhere. Not a come help me with something or a can you come with me to get food from the market, but something planned."

You raised an eyebrow, "So a date?"

Jesse froze for a second. He swallowed hard, his confidence wavering again before he forced himself to hold your gaze and give you a single nod. "Yeah, a date." he confirmed, the word coming out a little breathier than he intended. 

"Alright," you hummed, squeezing his hands gently. "What do you have in mind?"

The smile dropped off his face. His eyes darted around the porch like he was frantically scanning for a threat that wasn’t there. His mouth opened and closed as he realized that he didn’t plan for anything past this point. 

"For the date," you clarified, trying to draw him back in.

"Right. The date. Yes." He nodded several times, pulling his hand from yours and rubbing the back of his neck. "I have a plan. There's definitely a plan."

"So what is it?" You asked, leaning forward just enough to force him to look at you. 

"There is no plan," he admitted, letting his hands fall into his lap, defeated. "I didn’t think I'd get this far. I had, like, three different versions of this conversation ready and every single one of them ended with you turning me down and both of us agreeing to never speak of it again."

You laughed, shaking your head, "Apparently ARC troopers can make thousands of split second decisions, but not when it comes to dates?"

"Hey, war I can handle. I did not expect to get this far with this." He ran a hand over his face again, "We could do dinner! Or what if I taught you some hand to hand combat that I learned in ARC training?"

“Hand to hand combat?” you repeated, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh. "Remember that time when Fives wanted to go hand to hand with me and I kicked his ass?"

Jesse rolled his eyes, “I’m stronger than Fives.”

"Strength isn't really the deciding factor when you’re fighting a Jedi," you pointed out, crossing your arms across your chest.

"Former Jedi," he corrected sarcastically, earning himself a soft slap on the shoulder with the back of your hand. “Okay, Kix mentioned there's a decent overlook not too far from here. He said it’s a good spot for watching the moon rise."

You took a deep breath, "So the boys already knew about this."

"Apparently, the boys have known about this longer than I have," He down at his hands in his lap, then back up at you, "Is the moon thing bad? Please tell me if the moon thing is bad."

You reached over and took his hands again, “Pick a day and I’ll be there.”

He let out a breath that he felt like he was holding since the war ended, and laced his fingers in yours like it was the easiest thing he'd done all night. "Wait. Seriously?" he asked, a smile finally fighting through the nerves, "You're actually saying yes?"

"Just pick the day," you replied, leaning into his shoulder.

Jesse didn't hesitate. "Tomorrow."

You gave his hand another squeeze, "Tomorrow it is.”

Hesitantly, Jesse slipped one of his hands from yours. He hovered his arm on the back of the sofa as if silently checking to make sure it was alright, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You let yourself lean into him, settling deeper against his shoulder. You felt a quiet sigh leave his chest as he relaxed, pulling you closer. Down between you, your other hand stayed securely intertwined with his. Jesse kept glancing down at your joined hands like he needed to keep making sure it was real.

"You keep looking at my hand," you noted, raising your joined hands a few inches. 

“I've thought about this,” he admitted, “Embarrassingly often honestly. There'd be moments during the war when I just needed my mind to be elsewhere.” Jesse’s thumb began tracing the back of your hand. "I remember back on Saleucami, after Rex was hit. You held his hand while Kix patched him up, and as messed up as it was I was jealous. Every time a brother was hurt and you took their hand to comfort them, I just wished it was mine you were holding."

"That is messed up Jesse," you half scolded, half laughed at him, "You don’t have to get shot just to hold my hand. Ask Fives.”

Jesse gasped. "Fives?"

"It was his very first mission with the 501st," you explained, closing your eyes to picture the memory. "The gunship was rattling and right before those doors opened, he looked terrified. So I reached over and squeezed his hand for a few seconds. It seemed to do the trick, he calmed right down."

Jesse let out a dramatic groan, tilting his head back against the back of the sofa. "Oh, come on!"

You shrugged, "For what it’s worth it meant nothing."

"He probably worshipped that hand for a week." Jesse mumbled as he tightened his grip around yours like he was making up for lost time. 

"Are you disappointed?" you asked, looking back at him.

"No, it was worth the wait." He leaned his head to the side, resting the side of his head on yours. "I think I could sit here all night. Just like this. I don't think it gets much better than this."

You took a deep breath, nuzzling your cheek into his shoulder. "If you think holding hands on a cold porch is good, just wait until I kiss you."

Jesse pulled away from you, his head snapping up so fast he almost headbutted you with his chin. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly open as he stared at you in disbelief.

You just leaned back into the sofa with a small shrug, looking up at the night sky. "Well, let's see how tomorrow goes first.”

A large black car rolls through the gate of the industrial laundry facility, the sound of tires crunching along the dusty ground as it makes its way onto the pavement. The dull grey, concrete floors and faded blue bins filled with white fabrics acted as the front of a newly built underground lab for cooking meth.

You were waiting near the front of the building in your best professional image. Your boss, Gustavo Fring, had called you earlier to meet him and a new possible employee at the lab.

The car comes to a stop and parks before your feet, Gus comes out of the drivers side while another man exists the passenger seat. To your knowledge, Gus had been in contact with a man called Walter White, infamously known as Heisenberg in the meth business. He was the one who had been cooking up the purest blue meth that anyone had ever seen, and he was looking for a bigger and better distributor. Today was almost like a walkabout interview for Walter, giving him a feel of the fresh lab that had been set up by a current employee, who Walter would be working with if he accepts.

Even if he declines, Gus will always find a way.

Walter comes out of the car looking almost confused, his eyes squinting behind his glasses. Gus walks up to your side, in front of Walter, and gives him a warm smile.

“This is my assistant, Y/N,” Gus starts, “they’ll be joining us for today.”

Walter looks at you and a second later he reaches out to shake your hand which you gladly take.

“I- Uh, It’s nice to meet you,” he greets as he shakes your hand as if he’s unsure about the situation.

Gus motions to the entrance of the building, “Please.”

The three of you walk through the rooms of the laundry, past all the bins and machines that crank and whirr. The sound of people chattering in Spanish bounce off the walls and the sound of metal on metal stirs in everyone’s ears. Gus walks towards a particular washing machine, large enough to fit a person or two inside. He grabs the handle and slowly pulls it downwards, making the machine tip forward to reveal a red glow from underneath. You make your way in, followed by Gus and Walter who looks back out once more before following you suit.

You take a key out of your pocket and unlock the door at the bottom of the steps. Opening the door, you hold it open for Gus and Walter as they walk inside, before locking it behind you. As Gus turns the lights on, Walter furrows his eyebrows.

“What is this?”

Gus flicks on another switch on the wall to turn the main lights on, revealing the shiny equipment on the lower floor.

“Your new lab,” Gus answers nonchalantly.

Walter walks over to the handrail and gazes over the lower ground, as if it was a flourishing field of flowers. Gus stands next to you as the both of you watch the surprised man. Once he turns back to you both, Gus motions his hand, telling Walter to follow. The three of you tread lightly down the spiral staircase, the coldness of the metal handrails seeping into your hands, and the clanking of shoes on metal steps.

The floor of the lab is a deep red that matches the colour of the stairs and handrails across the higher balcony. All of the silver equipment is wrapped in layers of plastic and bubble wrap. Unopened boxes with red ‘FRAGILE’ stickers slapped across the sides litter the room.

“My god…” Walter immediately walks up to a piece of machinery, groping the bubble wrap, “Can I?”

He turns to look at you and Gus for permission.

“Of course!” You answer with a smile.

The now gleeful man tears the bubble wrap off as his face brightens.

“Thorium oxide for a catalyst bed,” Walter chuckles, “Look at the size of this reaction vessel.”

He turns back to look at both of you again with a grin on his face and Gus smiles back and nods.

“Oh… it’s got… It’s gotta be twelve hundred litres.”

He continues, “How- How did you know how to put this all together?”

Gus chimes in to answer another one of his questions, “We had excellent help, as will you.”

“It’s important that you feel like the equipment is up to standard as well as the layout,” you add, “Quite a lot of work went into this.”

Walter continues to walk around and examine everything, dragging his eyes up, down, and all around them. You and Gus have been standing in the same spot since you’ve come down the stairs. Walter makes his way back around to where you’re standing.

“I need two hundred pounds per week to make this economically viable.” Gus fills the silence, “You would choose your own hours of course, come and go as you please, so long as the quota is met.”

Another brief moment of silence fills the air.

“…So, will you go through with this? I can assure you it is exceptionally better than whatever system you had going on before,” You tell him.

Walter presses his lips into a firm line, “Sorry, the answer is still no… I have made a series of very bad decisions and I cannot make another one.”

Upon hearing his answer, you audibly exhale through your nose. Gus still stands with a firm posture and bores his eyes straight through the lens of Walter’s glasses. The energy in the room shifts as Gus opens his mouth.

“Why did you make these decisions?”

“For the good of my family,” Walter responds

“Then they weren’t bad decisions,” Gus says, “What does a man do, Walter? A man provides for his family.”

His wrinkles morph into a face of anger and frustration, “This cost me my family-”

Gus cuts him off, “When you have children, you always have family. They will always be your priority, your responsibility. And a man… A man provides. And he does it even when he’s not appreciated, or respected, or even loved.”

Subtle anger fills the words that fall out of Gus’ mouth. He steps closer to Walter, bringing himself right up to his face, eyes wide, yet controlled.

“He simply bears up, and he does it, because he’s a man.”

The intensity of Gus causes Walter to falter for a second. You also shift uncomfortably, afraid that one wrong move would make Gus give you a heart attack inducing lecture. Despite working with Gus for just under a year, you had no intentions of ever disappointing him in any capacity. He scared you at times, sure, who isn’t? But he still had a part of him that treated you as if you were some sort of child of his. You hated being told off, it made you feel like a child and those feelings felt way too frustrating to deal with.

You drag your eyes from the back of Gus’ head to Walter’s eyes. He occasionally shifts his eyes back to you.

Walter eventually breaks the dead air, “Okay,” he pauses for a second, I’ll do it.”

You can’t see your boss’ face but his demeanour immediately shifts and you can tell that he’s put a satisfied smile on his face, “Great, consider this the best deal you can get,” he brings his hand out to shake Walter’s.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You had been down in the lab with Gale for just under thirty minutes, explaining how everything was going to work from now, the quota, working all day or any day, along with his new partner. Gale was someone you had spoken to a handful of times, you weren’t that close, but you both respected each other a lot and dearly appreciated his attitude and outlook on life. He has always had a strong work ethic and a bright mind, he was even the one to pick out the equipment and design the setup of the lab.

Your conversation with Gale was soon cut off by the sound of the machine opening rumbling from above, signalling that someone was coming down.

You turned to Gale, “Oh! That must be him.”

The door was pushed open by Walter as he held a small brown bag in his hand. You and Gale were right beneath the walkway he was standing on. Walter stood still for a second and looked around the room before Gale spoke up.

“Hello there.”

Walter’s face shifted to a look of confusion, the same look that he wore for most of yesterdays orientation. He looked around the lab before his eyes lowered to below his feet. Through the slits of the balcony the three of you made eye contact with each other. You gave Walter a warm smile.

“Mr. White, I presume?” Gale asked him.

Walter shifted his feet, “Oh, yes. Hi,” he responded, “Sorry, I’ll be right down.”

“Of course,” you said.

The bald mans steps echoed as he walked across the balcony and down the stairs. Gale took a sip of his ‘lab’ made coffee before getting up from his chair and walking towards the bottom of the stairs. You followed Gale and waited for Walter to come down.

Gale stepped forward once more once Walter came down, “Hi. Gale Boetticher,” he stuck his hand out as he tried to hide his smile of excitement.

Walter took his hand and shook it, “Hi.”

His cold face and deeper voice was a stark contrast to Gale’s cheery and joyful expression that he always had. Both Gus and Gale had assured you that Walter being the other lab assistant would work out well and get things done on time and in the expected quality.

“So!” You start, “Walter, this is your lab assistant, no one is above the other, you’re both equals here,” you tell him, you remembered something Gus had told you about Walter before you had met him. He told you that he had another partner he was cooking with, but they had gone their separate ways and Walter had a habit of wanting to be the bigger person, someone in control, even comparing himself to Gus.

“I’m here to supervise the lab as you work,” you finished with a small smile, mainly directing your words at Walter.

Walter slightly grumbled, “Supervising the lab?”

“Mainly you.”

“Me?” he pointed to himself.

“We’ve been working with Gale for a little bit now,” you told him, “Gus told me to, don’t think that we think you’re a hazard.”

Walter stood there, a look of disbelief washing over his features.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be in your way, just pretend I’m not here.”

“They’re great, really,” Gale added, trying to defuse whatever might come out of this.

For the rest of the day, Gale and Walter had discussed their own system and the recipe they were going to use for the meth. They even spent some time talking about Gale’s overly complicated, scientific coffee maker. It really was spectacular, he had made you try some beforehand and the taste buds in your mouth exploded when you did, even Walter seemed impressed by it.

You watched them crush and grind ingredients into powder, pour liquids into one another, stir things together. The sound of chattering between the two men and the sound of your pen scribbling on paper felt calming to your ears, you blended into the background of the lab. The normally dull atmosphere of the lab was transformed into a welcoming place, even Gale and Walter would stop between steps to play some chess, which you allowed, even though Gus might have not appreciated it.

Eventually the cook came to a close. You were happy with the work done, over two trolleys filled with trays of blue meth that needed to sit until its ready to be crushed. Everything had been cleaned up and set up for tomorrow, all of the lights had been turned off and the room settled.

“Great job with the work today, both of you,” you congratulated them.

Gale grinned at you, “Thank you.”

Walter simply acknowledged you with a nod.

Technically you were supposed to stay until everyone had left the lab, but you trusted Gale enough with Walter, and the cook was over and the two men were left to chat to each other. You decided to pack your things and head back to your place and report to Gus later on.

As you make your way to the stairs you gave them a wave, “Since the cook is done for today, I’m going to head out,” you said, “I’ll be back tomorrow, have a great rest of your day.”

“Yeah, you too,” Walter responded.

Gale waved back, “Have a good one!”

Just as you left the lab and exited the back of the washing machine, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You reached for your phone and opened it to see that your boss was calling you. Pressing your finger on the button, you held your phone up to your ear as you made your way to your car that was parked next to the building.

“How was it?”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The next day, you were back in the lab with Gale. Walter was running late which was very unlike him. Despite Walter not being there, Gale wanted to start the cook, saying that Walter wouldn’t want the cook to be held up by anything, you let him. Eventually the sound of the machine upstairs rumbling became audible. Thirty seconds later, the door opened and in came Walter. His demeanour was already more hostile than his regular self.

“Hello,” Gale greeted him, “We were starting to get worried.”

Walter came downstairs and made a beeline to the mini fridge.

“What happened?” you asked.

He replied, “Car trouble.”

“Oh, that’s a bummer,” Gale rubbed his hands around the cup of coffee he had made, “You should call me next time, I’ll pick you up.”

Walter placed his paper bag in the fridge and headed over to the red lockers. Walking past the both of you, he looked down at Gale’s shoes.

“No sandals today?” he commented as he ignored Gale’s offer.

The man beside you looked at Walter with widened eyes, slightly taken aback by his comment, “Uh… Well I just thought- A bit more professional.”

The sound of the locker clanging against the frame echoed throughout the lab as Walter started unbuttoning his shirt. Gale placed his mug down and went up to his own locker besides Walters and opened it.

“Anyway, everything is on track.” you said out loud.

Gale started unbuttoning his own shirt, “That’s right, we got our distillate. Just waiting to-”

“Let’s get our trays ready,” Walter interrupted him, “Clean, no moisture.”

“Done,” you answered sternly.

His expression faltered for a second, “Is our…? Our solvent filtered?”

“I thought you might ask that,” Gale responded gleefully, turning to you as well, “Done.”

“That’s good,” Walter responded with a dull tone.

“You know, this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

After the two men got their yellow hazmat suits on and their gas masks, they continued the rest of the cook for the day. Everything was going as well as it normally would, except for the fact that Walter seemed more agitated today. You thought nothing of it. Just male things. A few minutes went by, you had been scribbling nonsensical things on the paper you were supposed to be taking notes on, not paying attention to anything, until Walter’s voice cut through the silence.

“Gale,” he started harshly, “What temperature did you set here?”

Gale picked up the clipboard in front of him and read out the relevant information, “Station five, seventy-five C.”

“I said eighty-five.”

Walter had already been oozing hostility since he walked in but now it felt like he was doing it on purpose. Something was bugging him and he was taking it out on Gale.

You defended Gale, “I wrote it down, You said seventy-five,” you told him, tapping your pen against your clipboard.

“Well, you both wrote it wrong, I said eighty-five-”

“It’s fine,” you interjected, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you today, but you need to calm down.”

Walter scoffed audibly and slowly turned to look at you. He started walking towards you, his eyebrows furrowing and the wrinkles around his face becoming more prominent.

“I need to calm down? Do you know how much product we’ve just lost? I feel like you should be a little more concerned about this?”

“Walt-”

“I can assure you that you don’t understand how important it is to be precise with this. You’re too young to be telling me what is and isn’t fine, what do you know about any of this!?”

“I’m sorry,” Gale said timidly from behind Walter, wringing his hands together.

Walter pulled his face away from yours and flung his hands up sarcastically, “Great.”

“You’re sorry, meanwhile, you’ve just brewed fifty gallons of useless sludge,” he walked back to the machine and looked at Gale, “Congratulations,” he said bluntly.

“Just dump it, Dump it all.”

You shied away for the rest of the day and you could tell that Gale was doing the same. Walter had roughly dumped out all of the ruined product and cleaned the inside of the machine with the help of Gale. The three of you decided that there wasn’t enough time to fix up a new batch that same day so you would leave that for another day. Everyone left the lab as quickly and quietly as possible, not wanting to cause another outburst.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You were back home. The TV was playing a random shitty reality show that you were absentmindedly watching as you ate shitty food. You didn’t want to think about the next time the three of you had to come to the lab together again, you couldn’t stand the potential awkwardness.

As you were thinking about what had happened today, your phone buzzed, sending vibrations through the table it was sitting on. You picked it up and realised that Gus was calling you. Your stomach dropped, praying that Walter hadn’t complained about today. Grabbing the remote, you turned the volume down on the TV, you sat up and answered the phone.

“Y/N,” Gus said before you could greet him.

Your brain stuttered for a second, “Yes- Yes, Hi, is something wrong?” you asked him.

“Did something happen in the lab today?” he asked in a stern tone.

“Oh… Yeah there was a bit of a mistake with the process and Walter said that it was unusable so we had to-” your rambling got cut off before it spiralled out of control.

“I mean, did something happen between Walter and Gale?”

You paused for a moment, “Apparently Gale had messed something up and Walter was extremely frustrated at him for the rest of the day.”

Gus didn’t respond.

“Why?” you asked quietly.

“Walter wants to change lab partners.”

NEXT CHAPTER...

a/n : hi… sorry, very short first chapter, i wanted to make this 5k at LEAST, i kinda wanted all of the chapters to be at the very least 5k but i think itll be okay since jesse doesn't show up at all in this chapter.

I HAVE ALSO POSTED THIS ON AO3, MY AO3 IS ON MY PROFILE!

also also also i haven't watched better call saul, whoops, i had to finish widows bay and im almost finished with from, (my mum wanted me to watch these shows and you know what she was right, these shows are fucking awesome) but yeah once i finish from ill start bcs!!! ANYWAY. my point was my characterisation might not be PERFECT and some things from that show might not get mentioned at all… i dont want to watch 6 seasons before writing a fanfic… ill just watch it as i write yk </3

anyway pt2, hope you like it… and you enjoy the upcoming chapters… i promise i planned everything out :p also also also also i might not be super active in july because im doing artfight for the first time gulp…

The rain on Kamino hammered relentlessly against the durasteel of Tipoca City so hard that it seemed to vibrate the buildings themselves. As a Jedi that spent most of their time with the Coruscant Guard, you were used to gray, smog choked drizzle. Having something different was a good change of scenery.

Your official duties had been a laundry list of what you liked to call ‘administrative garbage’. You had spent the last two weeks conducting drills with the latest batch of Guard recruits, coordinating logistics with the Prime Minister, and sitting through meetings that were so boring, it made the council meetings feel fun. It was the kind of work that made your lightsaber feel like a decorative display.

But through it all, there had been a persistent, quiet itch in the back of your mind.

You had seen the transfer order months ago.

Transfer to ARC Program - Candidate 5597. 

When you first saw it, you felt a surge of pride. He had earned it. Jesse’s stubborn, brilliant, reckless streak of his was finally being recognized. But you also knew the reputation of the ARC Program. They were designed to break a man down to his molecular level and rebuild him into something formidable.

In the early days of the war, Jesse was a staple of the Coruscant Guard. His sharp wit and high energy often served as the only thing that kept the long, grueling shifts at the Senate building from becoming unbearable. While most of the Coruscant Guard was known for a certain rigid, humorless discipline, Jesse had a way of mixing his outgoing personality into the mix. He dedicated to being the best soldier he could be. By the end of his run with the Guard, he knew exactly how you liked your caf and which Senators were likely to cause you the most trouble. You grew accustomed to his presence - and you enjoyed that.

Then came the transfer. The Republic’s need for aggressive, front line leaders had spiked, and the 501st Legion was losing more men than ever in the outer rim. 501st leadership looked at Jesse’s training scores from Kamino and his uncanny ability to improvise under pressure. Ultimately, they decided he was wasted on city patrol. You remember the day he traded his crimson markings for the deep blue of the 501st being a quiet one. There was no grand ceremony, just a fresh new set of shiny armor and a lopsided grin. He told you that he would see you on his next shore leave. Except with how busy both you and him have been, that never happened. 

Now, seeing he received an ARC promotion, it was clear he was making a big impact in the 501st.

Unfortunately, taking care of your duties on another planet did not change how busy you were. You didn’t have time to send a comm and were too busy to even think about trying to pull rank to visit the training center. Besides, the training was demanding. He didn't need a Jedi distraction or the comfort of an old friend. He needed to be a soldier. 

Now, the rain of Kamino was finally behind you. The Tranquility was off to Coruscant with both you and Jesse on board. The Tranquility was a stark contrast to the quiet, almost funereal-like atmosphere of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. It was loud, chaotic, and always awake.

As you navigated the corridors toward the on-ship Jedi quarters, you felt it. The Force didn't just nudge you, it pulled you. You turned your heels and pivoted toward Hangar Bay 3.

The hangar was a hive of frantic activity. Gunships were being maintenance checked, and pit droids were screeching as they scurried between the legs of workers. But in a quieter spot, hidden behind a stack of storage containers was Jesse.

He was tucked into the shadow of a crate, sitting on an upturned power cell. He was stripped down to his blacks, his white and blue plates of armor scattered around him like the pieces of a giant, expensive puzzle. The signature ARC double pauldrons were already finished, the 501st blue looking sharp against the grey floor.

But it was the man himself who held your gaze.

Jesse looked different. The soft edges of the Coruscant Guard member you knew had been honed into something lethal. He was broader, more built, and there were fresh bags under his eyes that spoke of the hellish weeks on Kamino. He was hunched over his helmet, a fine tipped brush held in a hand that was visibly trembling. Not from fear, but from the kind of muscular collapse that comes after days of being pushed beyond the limits of human endurance.

You stayed back for a moment, shrouded in the deep shadow of a fighter’s wing. You watched the way he squinted, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in a display of concentration that was so "Jesse" it made your heart ache with a sudden, sharp nostalgia. He was trying to trace the intricate circular patterns of the Republic cog on the dome of his helmet, but his eyes were bloodshot and blinking slowly - far too slowly.

He was beyond exhausted. He was running on pure, stubborn Jesse adrenaline. You watched as he dipped the brush, his head nodding forward for a split second, chin nearly hitting his chest, before he jerked it back up with a start. He barely caught himself, a small droplet of blue pigment nearly splashing onto his bare knees.

He was a hero of the Republic, a newly minted ARC trooper, and a friend you had missed every single day since his transfer. And right now, he was currently losing a fight with a cup of paint and his own eyelids.

You didn't want to startle him (well, perhaps a little) but mostly, you just wanted to catch him before he ruined that helmet.

You lingered in the shadow of the ship’s wing for a few moments longer, simply centering yourself. After months of silence and missed connections, the sheer reality of him being a few meters away was exciting. But then his head dipped again, the brush tip dangerously close to the white curve of his helmet, and you knew you had to intervene before he accidentally gave himself a blue facial.

"I heard a rumor they were letting just anyone into the ARC program these days, but I didn't think it was this bad," you chuckled softly, your voice cutting through just enough to over power the mechanical dirge of the hangar.

The effect was instantaneous. Jesse’s head snapped up with such violence you swear you heard his neck pop. The brush flailed in a panicked arc, and he nearly took a tumble off the upturned power cell. He scrambled to find his footing, his steps pressing against the scattered armor as he instinctively tried to snap to attention.

"General! I didn't-"

"Easy, Jesse," you half laughed, stepping into the dim light. You waved him down before he could lock his knees, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "If you stand up that fast, you’re going to pass out, and I really don't want to explain to Rex why I found his new ARC in a heap behind a storage crate."

The moment he realized it was truly you, the rigid 'soldier' persona he’d been trying to project evaporated. His face lit up, a genuine, bone deep radiance that seemed to wash away the gray exhaustion for a fleeting second. He sank back onto the power cell, his shoulders dropping as he let out a long, shaky breath that sounded like a deflating balloon.

"You," he breathed, his voice a low, gravelly rasp, "I thought I was hallucinating. Like the paint fumes finally got to me."

"The paint fumes might still be a factor," you countered, walking closer until you were standing in the small circle of his makeshift workstation.

Up close, he looked even more ragged. His fingers were stained with streaks of blue pigment, the ink settled into the creases of his knuckles and under his nails. His typical high energy  was clearly fading, replaced by a heavy, leaden lethality that made his every movement look like it was happening underwater.

"How long has it been since you’ve slept, Jesse?" you asked, your tone softening from teasing to genuine concern.

He rubbed a hand over his face, inadvertently smearing a tiny dot of blue onto his forehead, right near the edge of his tattoo. "I don't know. Thirty six hours? Maybe forty? I had to finish the final qualification rotations, then the debriefs, then the gear pick up and then I realized we were docking in a few hours." He looked down at the helmet in his lap, his gaze hazy,"I can't walk off this ship onto Coruscant in blank armor. I’m an ARC now. I have to look the part. Right?"

"You’re going to look like a mess if you keep this up," you said. You reached down, your fingers brushing his as you gently but firmly took his helmet from his lap. He didn't fight you. "You’re done for now."

"I’m not," he protested weakly, though he didn't move to take his helmet back. "I just need to finish the cogs. If I can just get the symmetry right-."

"You’re coming with me," you interrupted, leaving no room for debate. It was the tone you used when a Senator was being particularly difficult. The perfect blend of Jedi authority and stubbornness you’ve come to learn from Fox.

Jesse blinked up at you,"To the Jedi quarters? I don't think I’m allowed-"

"Not the quarters. And you aren't arguing," you interrupted again, already using a flick of your fingers to levitate his gear and drop it into an empty crate. "If you smudge that helmet or spill that paint pot, I’m telling Commander Fox you’ve forgotten every bit of Coruscant Guard discipline we drilled into you. I’ll tell him you’ve gone completely '501st reckless' and need to be sent back to basic."

That got a genuine, tired chuckle out of him. The threat of Fox’s temper was enough to move him, "You wouldn't. That’s low, even for a Jedi."

"Try me," you winked. "Now, grab the paint and crate and follow me."

He stood up slowly, his joints popping in a way that made your own knees ache in sympathy. You led the way out of the hangar, steering him through the maintenance corridors of the Tranquility. You knew the layout of this ship better than most. Throughout the war, you spent hours studying the schematics to find the pockets of dead space where the crew rarely ventured.

You stopped at a nondescript blast door near the aft of the ship, tucked behind a series of coolant pipes. With a quick bypass code, the door hissed open to reveal a hidden paradise.

It was a small, circular room that had once been used for navigation before the ship’s systems were integrated into the bridge. Now, it was a forgotten sanctuary. A massive, curved viewport offered a panoramic look at the swirling, hypnotic blue of hyperspace, casting the room in a cool blue glow.

The floor was covered in haphazard piles of extra junk that had been shoved in the room, along with a few cushions and heavy blankets you salvaged from the laundry deck. It was quiet. Profoundly, beautifully quiet.

Jesse stepped inside, the crate pressed against chest. He stood there for a moment, simply breathing in the stillness. The chaos of the hangar and the pressure of his new role seemed to fall away the moment the door hissed shut behind him.

"Whoa," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "I didn’t know there was a place like this on the venators."

"It’s the only place on the ship where nobody wants anything from me," you huffed, gesturing toward the pile of cushions, "And right now, it’s the only place where somebody will force you to shut your eyes. Sit. That’s not a request."

He didn't need to be told twice. He collapsed onto the cushions, his heavy frame sinking into the soft fabric with a groan of pure relief. Even as he settled, his hand drifted back toward the helmet resting on the crate beside him, his fingers twitching toward the paint. "I really should just finish-"

"Jesse, stop," you laughed, reaching over to catch his wrist. His skin was warm, his pulse thrumming with frantic, fading energy. "You have two choices. You can stay here and actually get some rest, or, if you really have that much energy to burn, you can put the rest of the kit on and give me a little fashion show. You seem so excited about your new gear. I certainly wouldn't be opposed to seeing the final result."

Jesse froze. In the cool blue light of hyperspace, you could see the tips of his ears turn a deep, sudden red. He looked down at his armor, then back at your face, completely derailed by the suggestion. 

"A fashion show?" he repeated slowly.

"You seem so insistent on showing off your new status," you teased, sitting down and leaning back against your own pile of cushions. "Why wait for the hangar at Coruscant? Now hand me that paint brush and gear up.”

Defeated by a mix of exhaustion and sheer embarrassment, he finally let out a huffed laugh and slid the brush across the floor towards you, "It’s terrifying how convincing you are. Has anyone told you that?"

"Daily," you winked.

Jesse lingered on the edge of the cushions, looking at the pile of blue and white plates with a sudden, renewed spark of energy. Your ‘fashion show’ comment had clearly gotten to his pride. He looked at you, then at the gear, then back to you.

"You really want to see it?" he asked, his voice losing some of its abrasiveness.

"Let's see the upgrade!"

He moved with a surprising grace for someone so exhausted, his muscle memory taking over as he snapped the gear into place. His silhouette changed as he pulled on the heavy double pauldrons. He adjusted the kama, the heavy fabric falling along his sides as he straightened his posture.

He stood in the center of the small room, the blue glow of hyperspace catching the stark white of his new kit. He tried to maintain a formal military composure but his eyes were dancing, and the corners of his mouth were twitching. He looked like a cadet who had just been handed his first real blaster.

"Well?" he asked, brushing his hands across the pocket for his DC-17’s, "Does it meet Jedi standards?"

You leaned back, letting your gaze travel slowly from his boots to the new pauldrons. You didn't hide the smile. "Honestly? It looks incredible. Like it was always meant to be yours."

Jesse blinked, his formal posture faltering for a second. He shifted his weight, looking down at his own chest plate as if seeing it for the first time. "You- you actually mean that? You’re not just saying it?"

"I mean I’d rather the blue be red but,” you paused, “no, blue looks nice on you.”

A flush crept up his neck. He let out a breathless, self deprecating laugh and rubbed the back of his head. "Careful, General," he teased, though there was a flicker of deep vulnerability in his eyes, "If you don’t take it easy with the compliments, I might actually start to dream of you having a crush on me or something."

The air in the room seemed to thin for a breath. You didn't look away, letting the silence stretch just long enough to be meaningful before you reached for a small, sealed container hidden behind a box of old navigation charts.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, trooper. I’m just trying to keep your ego inflated enough to keep you awake," you countered, popping the lid of the container.

The smell hit the air immediately. It was sweet, yeasty, and spiked with cinnamon. "Since I was stuck on Kamino doing boring Jedi stuff, I had a lot of time to trade favors with the supply ships. I managed to get my hands on some real Corellian sweet bread and spiced crackers. Want some?"

You held the container out to him.

Jesse’s eyes widened. Still in his gear, he dropped back onto the cushions. All pretense of military decorum was gone, "Real food? Not paste or ration sticks?"

"Real food," you confirmed, handing him a piece.

He took a bite, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a low groan of appreciation. "I think I owe you multiple rounds for this," he mumbled around a mouthful of spice and sugar.

You laughed, settling into the cushions directly across from him. The space between you was small, your knees nearly brushing. Once he’d finished the first cracker, you held out your hand and cocked your head. He understood immediately. He picked up his helmet and handed it to you so carefully, it made it seem like a sacred relic.

You  dipped the fine tipped brush into the blue paint, your hand steady as you began to paint the first arc of the Republic cog.

"Remember that senate meeting on fuel taxes?" you asked, your eyes laser focused on painting the perfect curve, "The one in the lower Senate chambers where the heating system broke?"

Jesse let out a snort, leaning his head back against the wall so he could watch you work, "Three hours of a senator arguing over liquid hydrogen tariffs? That one? I think I counted every single durasteel panel in that room. You were sitting there looking all formal, but I could see your eyelid twitching every time he hit the table."

"I was three minutes away from using a mind trick to make him suggest a recess," you admitted, carefully filling in a line with paint, "You kept shifting your weight so your armor would clank just enough to distract him. I never thanked you for that."

"Better late than never" he shrugged, “just wanted to help a friend out.”

The conversation drifted, the old ease of your partnership returning as if the year plus of separation were nothing more than a bad dream. But as you worked on the second half of the cog, the tone shifted. You looked up from the paint, meeting his gaze.

"I’m so proud of you, Jesse."

He started to make a joke, but the look on your face stopped him.

"I mean it," you continued, "I know people thought I might be bitter when you got the 501st transfer. But seeing you now, I’m just glad you made it. I’m glad others get to see what I saw back then."

You reached out, not with your hand, but with the Force. You let your presence brush against his, "Your light in the Force, it feels even stronger now. Harder, maybe. More defined. But it’s brighter than it ever was in the Guard."

Jesse went quiet, his eyes searching yours in the blue hyperspace glow. He didn't have a witty comeback for that. Instead, he let out a breath and looked down at the floor. "You know about a month after the transfer went through, I almost put in a request to come back."

You froze, the paint brush hovering just millimeters from the helmet, "What? Jesse, why? You were their top candidate."

"It wasn't about that," he admitted, "It was too quiet. I mean, the 501st is the loudest kriffing legion in the Grand Army, but it was quiet here," He tapped his chest, right over his heart, "I’d be on a long range recon or sitting in a trench on some mud ball in the Mid Rim, and I’d go to make a joke about a Senator, or I’d look to my left to see if you’d caught the same ridiculous thing I just saw and you weren't there."

He looked back up, his expression earnest, "Don't get me wrong. I’d die for General Skywalker. He’s a hell of a leader, and my brothers? Fives, Echo, Rex, they’re the best men I’ve ever known. I’d follow them into the void itself. But General Skywalker can’t replace you. Nobody can."

The confession hung in the air. It was the kind of honesty that usually only came out in the middle of a firefight or after too many rounds at a cantina. Hearing it here, in your secret sanctuary, made your heart do a slow, painful roll in your chest. 

You cleared your throat, feeling the sudden need to break the tension before you did something reckless.

"Well," you hummed, your voice a bit breathier than you intended, "if I’d known you were that miserable, I might have actually put in the request myself. But since we’re both here now, I think we need something a bit stronger than spiced crackers."

You reached back into your hidden stash and pulled out a small, unmarked flask. Jesse’s eyebrows shot up, a familiar glint of mischief returning to his eyes.

"Is that-?"

"A very high quality spiced rum that a freighter captain 'donated' to the Guard's evidence locker," you winked, unscrewing the cap and pouring some into a spare glass, "Consider it a reward for surviving training."

Jesse took the glass, his fingers brushing yours in a lingering contact that sent a jolt up your arm. He took a sip and let out a long, appreciative sigh, "That’s the real deal, huh. It almost feels like the old days. Remember when the war was new? We’d finish a fourteen hour shift and the whole squad would pile into 79’s?"

You rolled your eyes, "I remember you trying to teach me how to play Sabacc. You lost fifty credits to a maintenance droid."

"That droid was cheating," he defended, though he was smiling now. He took another sip, his gaze turning reflective, "Do you still go? To 79’s? With the rest of the Guard?"

You looked into the bottle of rum, "I do. Occasionally. Fox usually drags me along to make sure the shinies don't start a riot." you paused, swirling your drink, "But it’s not as fun without you. The music is too loud, the drinks are too watery, and there’s nobody there to tell me which Senators are secretly dating each other."

Another silence followed, but this one was different. You looked at him again, your gaze lingering on the way the double pauldrons sat on his shoulders.

"I mean it, though," you whispered, "The armor. You look powerful. It really does suit you."

Jesse downed the rest of his drink in one go, his eyes never leaving yours. He carefully took the bottle from your hand and poured himself another glass before setting it down with a purposeful clink on the metal floor.

"You really think so?" he asked. His voice had changed. It was deeper, more confident. He shifted, propping himself up on his knees and shuffling forward.

The cushions crinkled under his weight as he invaded your space, stopping only when your knees touched. He was so close you could smell the spice of the crackers and the sharp tang of the rum on his breath.

"I know how to make it look better," he smirked.

"How?" you asked, your heart hammering against your ribs at his close proximity.

He didn't answer with words. Instead, his hands moved to his shoulders, his fingers working the heavy magnetic clips of his new double pauldron. With a soft clack, it came free. He leaned in even closer and slowly lowered the gear over your head.

It was surprisingly heavy, the cold plastoid resting against your robes, the blue markings of the 501st now draped over your own shoulders. The pauldrons were far too wide for you, making you feel small and protected all at once.

Jesse didn't pull back. He rested back on his calves, just inches away, and let out a soft, breathy smile as he looked at you wearing his colors.

"See?" he grinned, his gaze tracing the way his armor looked on you, "Much better. I think I might have to let you keep it."

You let out a giggle, your hands coming up to steady the heavy plates. "Nah. I’d be executed for treason for wearing blue."

He tilted his head to the side, his expression softening into something so tender it made your breath hitch. He reached out, his hand hovering near your cheek for a second before he pulled back, a ghost of a sigh escaping him.

"I missed you," he exhaled, resting the palm that almost grazed your cheek on his calf. He shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe he was finally saying it. 

"Well," you said, offering a small, lopsided smile as you adjusted the heavy pauldron on your shoulders, "I’m right here."

You expected a quick retort or a flirtatious wink, but Jesse didn't take the bait. He just let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to rattle in his chest.

"That's exactly it. That. Right there. The way you can just make a joke out of the vacuum of space. I miss the lightheartedness. I miss the way the war used to be."

He continued.

"When I was in the Guard, I was an idiot," he admitted with a bitter little huff of a laugh, "I woke up every day thinking I knew exactly how the next rotation was going to go. I took the shifts, the bad caf, and the boring Senate meetings for granted because I assumed there’d always be another one. It was carefree. I didn't realize how much that mattered until I was standing in a trench on a planet I couldn't spell, wondering if the next grenade was meant for me."

He leaned forward just a small bit, his fingers gripping into his thighs.

"Now? I’m an ARC Trooper. I’m the one they’re going to send in when the odds are suicide. I’m the one who has to lead the charge into the meat grinder. Tomorrow isn't guaranteed for any of us, I know that, but for me? For the 501st?" He shook his head, "Heck, the next few moments of my life aren't guaranteed."

You didn't offer a platitude or Jedi wisdom about the flowing nature of life and death. He didn’t need a General right now, and he certainly didn't need a lecture. You decided to pull him back to the surface.

You leaned in, the movement causing the heavy blue double pauldron to scrape against your Jedi robes with a soft pull on the fabric. The weight of his rank, quite literally, sat heavy on your shoulders, but your gaze was light, flickering with a sudden, sharp spark of mischief. You invaded the last few inches of his personal space until you could see flecks of gold in his eyes, mirrored by the blue hyperspace glow.

"And what exactly are you going to do about that, ARC-5597?" you asked teasingly. By using his designation, you weren't pulling rank. You were throwing down a gauntlet. You were daring the man behind the number to take what he wanted from the moments he claimed were so precious.

Jesse’s vision sharpened instantly. The hazy, exhaustion that had been weighing down his eyelids vanished, replaced by a sudden, predatory focus. He didn't blink. He didn't pull back. Instead, he let his hand slide slowly toward you until his paint-stained knuckles brushed against robe.

"You're playing a very dangerous game," he warned,  "If you keep this up, being caught wearing 501st blue is going to be the absolute least of your concerns."

"Is that right?" You didn't flinch. You didn't move an inch. Instead, you tilted your head, the corner of your mouth twitching into a challenge, "What could possibly be more treacherous than the Jedi General of the Coruscant Guard wearing 501st blue.?"

You were pushing him. You were leaning into the fire, practically begging to be burned. And you wanted him to cross the line. The line you’d both been tiptoeing around back in the Senate halls, over cold caf and shared glances in the city lights.

When Jesse moved, he moved with frantic, explosive release. He lunged forward, his knees digging into the cushions, and his hands coming up to cup your face with a desperation that was almost violent.

The kiss wasn't a question. It was an answer to every unspoken fear he’d just confessed.

When his lips met yours, it was hard and hungry, tasting of the rum and the salt of his own sweat. He kissed you with the kind of crushing intensity that comes from a man who truly believes he might not have a tomorrow. His fingers tangled deep into your hair, his palms rough against your skin, pulling you flush against him until the heavy, cold plastoid of his double pauldron was crushed between your chests.

You gasped into his mouth, the sound swallowed by him. He moved his hands from your face to your waist, his grip bruisingly tight as he hauled you closer, as if he were trying to pull you inside his own skin. He was shaking, not from the exhaustion he’d been fighting for days, but from the sheer, terrifying relief of finally touching you. His kiss deepened, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips with a heat that made the room feel like it was catching fire.

Jesse groaned a low sound that vibrated deep in his throat and echoed against your own teeth. It was the sound of surrender. In this tiny pocket of space, he wasn't ARC-5597. He was just Jesse, and he was drowning in you. He broke the kiss for a fraction of a second, his forehead dropping against yours, both of you panting, your breaths mingling in the cramped, blue lit space..

"I-” he took a deep breath, his words raspy, “I needed to know if you felt that. I needed one thing that was real before they sent me back out there."

Before you could even draw a full breath to answer, he was back, his mouth finding yours again with a renewed, feverish energy. This time, it was slower and deeper, like a long, soul-searing slide of heat that felt like he was trying to stitch his soul to yours. 

However, the feverish energy of the kiss finally began to give way to the sheer, physical reality of the last forty hours.

Jesse didn't pull away so much as he simply tipped forward. He broke the kiss with a soft, lingering ghost of a sigh, his forehead sliding from yours to rest heavily against your shoulder.. His weight was a sudden, dead load against you, his head thumping softly against the very pauldron he’d draped over you minutes ago. The clatter of plastoid on plastoid was the only sound in the room besides each of your ragged, slowing breaths.

A soft, breathless laugh escaped you. The all so mighty ARC trooper had finally reached his limit.

"Jesse?" you whispered, your hand coming up to cradle the back of his head.

He didn't answer with words, just a faint, unintelligible mumble against your neck. You gently shifted, guiding his body down until he was stretched out across the cushions, his head resting securely in your lap. The movement was slow and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation of moments before.

His eyes fluttered open just a crack. He looked up at you, his features softened by a vulnerability that no one else in the galaxy was allowed to see.

"Hey," he offered, a tiny, lopsided smudge of a smile touching his lips. 

"Hey yourself," you nipped back, picking a piece of your hair off his forehead, "Go to bed, ARC Trooper. That’s a direct order."

"Yes, General," he breathed out, the words trailing off into a heavy exhale.

He didn't let go entirely. As his eyes drifted shut, his hand reached out, fumbling blindly until his fingers found yours. He laced them together, his grip firm even in sleep, anchoring himself to you. He nuzzled closer into the soft fabric of your robes, his breathing evening out into a deep, rhythmic cadence that vibrated against your legs.

The silence of the sanctuary returned. It was peaceful.

Using your free hand, you reached for the brush that was now on the floor. The blue paint was starting to dry, but you didn't reach for that color anyway. Instead, you reached into the small kit for the color that defined your time together.

You picked up his helmet with your spare hand and placed it down carefully at your side. You didn't touch the Republic cog or the symmetry he’d been obsessing over. Instead, you turned the helmet over, and on the smooth, hidden interior of the neck guard, right where it would rest against his skin, you painted a small, perfect heart in Coruscant Guard Red.

It was a tiny, secret mark. A splash of his old life tucked inside his new one. You set the brush down and looked back at the man sleeping in your lap, his hand still tight around yours. The 501st could have his skills, and the Republic could have his service, but as the Tranquility hurtled through the void toward the capital, you made sure he’d always know exactly where his heart belonged.

from that moment, small things started to change.

now you had more cases assigned with jesse than usual, were always called together for help. your work appeared to overlapped more with his.

turns out, your colleagues were trying to set you up. with your own boyfriend.

at first, both of you didn't react.

jesse kept his distance like always, only talking to you when necessary. his voice always low and soft when he did.

still professional but caring.

but somehow, that little talk caught the attention of your colleagues.

"they are so cute," perlah whispered to dana one day, if only she could be more subtle about it

because you heard it.

the following days were interesting, only maybe for them. because for you, it was like any other day.

when you and jesse were caught on a trauma case together, something shifted.

you moved in sync perfectly. he helped with vital signs, you passed him the medications, so on. the two of you didn't have to act professional. you were already efficient.

but in their eyes, it looked different.

"they're.. amazing together," emma whispered.

"exactly, right?" princess replied. "they just.. fit, so well. even under pressure."

you never looked at jesse. he didn't look at you. but when your shoulders brushed once or twice in that room, no one can see how it made you feel the rush, the excitement in your stomach. jesse felt it too.

when you hang out with them, you could say it was more obvious.

jesse stayed with the boys, leaning back, relaxed, laughing at something mateo said.

you were across the room with the girls, pretending not to notice him at all, pretending you didn't already know the exact sound of his laugh.

kim nudged you, eyes narrowing playfully. "you.. you're matching with jesse, aren't you?"

you frowned a little, acting that you had to think about it.

"huh? i didn't notice that” you shrugged, taking a sip from your drink. "i like his jacket though!"

of course you did, you bought it for him.

across the room, jesse glanced at you for half a second, enough for you to catch his gaze.

then you both looked away.

both of you lied your way through, smoothly. it wasn't harmless. it was for the best, right?

later that night, you went and stayed at jesse's place.

you kicked off your heels by the door, sighing as you feel like your feet was going to be cut off due to it.

jesse leaned back against the couch, watching you with that familiar look. he was amused, for some reason.

"you're a good liar, aren't you?"

you looked at him, "what do you even mean, j?" already holding a smile.

"you said you're single?"

"oh come on, you said it too!" you had one knee on the couch, pushing his arm playfully. "its funny though.."

jesse continued as he knew what you were going to say. "they're really trying to set us up."

you chuckled and whispered lowly, "when they have no.. idea."

"they really don't, huh?"

you huffed out a small laugh, finally dropping beside him. wrapping your arms around him, at once.

he started again, with his voice low, "i wonder how long it'll take.. for them to notice we're actually together."

"but babe, if you think about it.. if we barely interact at work, i do not think they will anytime soon. we kinda avoid each other"

he tilted his head, studying you.

"so what you're saying is.." his voice quieter now, "you want them to know?"

"what–?" you blinked, that question caught you off guard.

"about us," he continued, a small smirk forming. "you want me to be closer to you at work?"

you hesitated.

"..i mean," it was definitely a yes.

"it wouldn't be bad, right? i kinda wanna see how you'd act.. with me around, to see how you will pretend that i'm not yours.."

you started to tease him, fingers slightly pushing on top of his heart.

he paused for a while, ideas forming in his head.

"oh i see,” jesse let out a soft laugh, leaning in just slightly. "you wanna play it like that?"

your lips curved into a smirk.

it's going to be a fun game for your friends.

and for both you and jesse to play along.

secret bf!jesse is a series at this point!!! i will make sure of it!! also, ptmc nurses rise!!!!!