kore_logs | We've got nothing to prove

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We've got nothing to prove

[WHO:] Jesse Pinkman and Kenzi (guest starring Jesse Finch!)
[WHERE:] House 20
[WHEN:] Day 75
[WHAT:] Jesse's got something to do and there's a tiny goth bulldog in his way.
[NOTES:] idk warning for pinkman in general

So - whatever. So maybe Jesse didn't do apologies that often. He had more than enough to do it for, but not exactly so many people that they mattered for. He was out of practice, and talking to Finch wasn't like winding his mother down back in the day or some junk. Felt important, felt like- it wasn't a given thing.

He feels squeamish when he's standing outside, fingers pinching nervously at his lip as he stares down the door and doesn't get to knocking yet. Maybe he should have called first. But he's already here, right? House 20, he's pretty sure, and there's no backing down now. "Quit bein' such a pussy," he mutters to himself, reaches up and beats against the door with the heel of his hand rather than his knuckles proper.

"Yo, anyone home?"

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Pinkman is utterly useless at this whole thing, so Jesse just - takes that and rolls his eyes. It's not worth the effort to try and tell him it's not about the junk, really, because if it didn't stick before, it won't this time. Jesse has to swallow his urge to defend himself, and sprawl out on the couch. It's okay. Baby steps.

"Man, they really are, though," Jesse sighs happily, grinning up at the ceiling. This is even better because he knows Kenzi is listening. "Even ladies think so. You ever hear them talk about other girl's racks? It's fuckin' great."

Definitely baby steps. He hadn't exactly had the best teachers where any of this was concerned; Finch was lucky he was as good as he was.

"You kiddin'?" Finally, something they can bond over. Well, something else. Jesse swats an arm at Finch again, like a little kid trying to get someone's attention. "Ya ever had two of 'em playin' with each other's right in front of ya?" And paid a lot of money for it? "Because that's what I'm talkin' about."

He is, really - Finch is surprised that there are this many people who don't seem to care about him and Galen in the first place.

Pinkman swats at him and Jesse peers over, raising his eyebrows. "Nuh uh, you did not ever see that, motherfucker." He grins widely, leaning over to hit Pinkman back. "You lying son of a bitch."

"Ain't even!" Rather than pulling up a chair like a sane human being, Jesse just sits back down on his knees in front of the couch right quick, all ready to mime this all out. "She was all over 'em, yo, they gotta be, like, C," not good enough, "D cups, she's got all like the tassels on 'em, and Cindy's - her name's Cindy, right," he thinks, "and she just goes to town, man, she's just her hands all over 'em and she's jigglin' 'em like they're fuckin' water balloons, it was- awesome."

He plants his hands on his knees. "A liar, he says."

Like water balloons. That cracks Jesse the fuck up, and he's giggling even after Pinkman's finished his story, nudging at the other with his foot. "Christ, man, you got a way with words. I'll take yer word for it, then. Hope you got to touch, too, real shame if you didn't."

He squints a little, though, wrinkling his nose. "Me, though? I like a little smaller, yeah? Like, handful size, right?" ... Man, sometimes Jesse wishes Galen was a girl.

"'Did he get to touch,' he says. 'Did he get to touch.'" Jesse scoffs immediately, turns his head with a laugh before he answers outright. "'Course I got in on that. Who you think you're talkin' to?"

He sits on the floor proper, lets his knees prop up and his arms dangle over them again, chin resting on one of his fists as Finch talks, like he needs to really ponder on the matter. "I had this girl," he finally says regardfully, half a smile on his face before it slips off, only for a moment. He remembers himself and knocks his hand lightly against his cheek, two times. "Anyway, she had, like, the perfect jugs, ya know? Perfect handful, perfect goddamn nipples. The best you ever seen."

Edited 2013-05-31 23:36 (UTC)

Jesse just grins at the first bit, because it doesn't really matter if he actually did or not. The story is still hilarious to Jesse either way. As for the girl with the perfect nipples, Jesse just sighs, flopping bonelessly on the couch.

"Man, you know how hard that is t'come across, though? I mean, tits like that. Natural ones, none of that silicone shit. Like finding diamonds." He gives Pinkman another grin, and peers up at the ceiling. "Never actually had a girl like that. Didn't really, uh - date, I guess - hah, no, listen, y'know I got t'bang a teacher of mine, once?" True story. "Lady teacher."

"Diamonds're everywhere," Jesse scoffs in return, pinching at his nose and shaking his head. "More like a unicorn." Bot hof his hands hold up, fingers splayed in a placating sort of way. "I mean, I ain't sayin' the fakes are all bad, ya got some real nice ones out there. But if you're totin' rocks up there I ain't diggin' that."

The last bit gets his attention even more, a little lean forward onto his knees as he regards Finch. "For serious?" He sounds jealous or impressed, his voice somewhere midway between. "Yo, details, pronto."

Eh, Pinkman has a point that Jesse shrugs at, nodding. But hey - nobody is ever impressed at this story, mostly because nobody believes him.

"I had this shitty-ass boarding school I went to when I was a teen, yeah? Catholic based, real strict, like - beat the bad kid outta you kinda school." He rolls his eyes at that. "So we had all these real uptight teachers. This one lady, Miss Johnson, she was real pretty. Real strict, like, make you balance books out in front of you while standing at the front of the class strict."

Aw, look, he's getting into his story. Jesse scoots forward. "So she keeps me for detention after class one time, and I dunno what the fuck happened, she was just like - gonna hit the back of my hand with a ruler or something, and next thing you know, I'm going down on her. Like a fucking porno, it was unreal." Jesse sniffs, rubbing at his nose with a grin. "Lady was a psychopath, nearly pulled my hair out. But I never got detention from her again, anyway. Heard she did it with a bunch of the guys in the dorms."

Finch isn't the only one getting into the story - Jesse looks like he's hanging on every word, meshes his hands together and grins as he picks at his nails and listens to the story.

"No way," he jeers at first, stops fidgeting long enough to lean forward again. "No way in hell." But then he lets out half a laugh, holds out a fist for Finch to bump if he so wishes. Looks like he's buying the story pretty whole-heartedly. "Yo, cougars're always into some messed stuff too, I bet she spanked the shit outta you." He pauses a beat and wrinkles his nose in thought. "How old were ya even, huh?"

Aw yiss, he will take that fistbump, he's all about that. He'll also wink at the cougar suggestion, pushing his hair back out of his face with that same huge grin. It's been a while since he's been able to talk about shit like this. His crew back home, the other rigging guys, they're the nastiest people around and Jesse misses the hell out of them.

"Like seventeen, I think," Jesse says, shrugging. "That school was batshit insane, man. It's always the repressed ones, y'know? Get a whole buncha people who pinch themselves every time they get a boner in the same place and you got some shit going on, after a while."

"I'll take your word for it, man, I was straight up public school my whole life. Had a lotta crazies but I guess they ain't a lotta the same kind. I mean, between you and me? Ain't an attractive teacher in the place."

He's got a faint smile as he watches Finch, picks at his lip a little as his thumb brushes thoughtfully over them. "Betcha got a ton'a stories," he points out with a grin, sits up a little straighter and leans towards him again. "Come on, lemme at'm."

He snorts. There weren't a lot of attractive teachers at his school, either - but Jesse hadn't really been all that picky, back then. Sure, Johnson was easy on the eyes, but that had been a matter of convenience and opportunity, not attraction, so much.

"Alright, alright, lemme see," Jesse laughs, waving his hand. "Not a lotta crazy teacher-sex stories, man, that's my one good one. The others I hit on and never got anything back. Did a lot of people, though." He shifts, wrinkling his nose. "Was an all-boys school, man, so I won't get into those specifics, but I did meet my best friend there."

A beat. "Not through sleeping with him, mind you. He was the only guy who could get cigarettes in the whole school. One time we went out t'get them and got locked out of the school entirely, though."

He's glad for the story omission. Because Finch was inarguably one of the best friends he'd ever had, but Jesse could only handle listening to so much dick-sucking. "Still, man, livin' the dream. Huh? Gettin' a little taste'a everything.

"Now-- cigarettes," Jesse repeats, almost blankly, and his mouth turns up into a bit of a smile. Hell, when he was seventeen, he'd been slinging teenths around his school. "Ya had your very own cigarette dealer, ay, Finch, that's, like-" He wrinkles his nose a little right suit, smile spreading. "-adorable or some shit."

He leans forward a little, and when he sets his hand on the couch, he taps a nail against it in debate. "What's your buddy's name?"

Jesse laughs at that, reaching to shove at Pinkman. He's not adorable, he's manly as fuck. "Ay, I was sixteen, man, gotta start somewhere."

But he flops back down into the couch and sighs a little. Sometimes - not always, he's not always thinking about it - he misses Jon and Emmett more than anything. It's the longest he's been without seeing them.

"Jonathan. Name's Jonathan." Jesse peers up at the ceiling. "He - fuckin' saved me, later, too. When we was out of school." Does he really want to talk about that? He's not sure yet.

"Yeah?"

And he gets it, to an extent. Because he misses Skinny a ton, he misses Badger. Hell, he even misses Mr White, cueball jackass and all his weird-ass idiosyncracies. Doesn't matter who he's pissed at for whatever reasons back home; absence and the heart and all that bullshit. One of Jesse's hands rubs at the back of his neck as he considers asking, hems and haws over it for a good twenty seconds before he finally speaks up again.

"Mind my askin'?"

He thinks about it, and no, he doesn't mind. Jesse thinks if he hadn't wanted to talk about it he wouldn't have brought it up - and besides, if anybody is going to get it, it's probably Pinkman. He doesn't need to hear all the gritty details to know how bad it can get. With a sigh, Jesse picks at his sleeves, keeping his hands busy as he talks.

"I got outta school, and things were shitty," Jesse says at length. "But there were parties, right? And they had the best shit there. Stuff that makes you forget in the best way." Jesse had mentioned before the sort of drugs he'd been into. "I sunk real low. Real low, like - bottom of the barrel crackhead addicted. And Jon reached in and pulled me back out and dried me out."

Nope, still can't meet Pinkman's eyes when he says that.

Alright, he had a pretty good idea of what it was going to be - he doesn't know how deep it goes with Finch insofar as that area's concerned, no, and he's not about to start asking questions; it's not any of his business. He listens and he props up his knees again, folds his arms and sets them on them as Finch talks.

He can't help but think of that night in that house, after Jane- whatever. Mr. White's shoulder propped under his arm as he carried him out. He thinks of his house back in Albuquerque, gouges in the wall and watching your toes for needles and unconscious bodies strewn around the room. Yeah, he gets it. He has a pretty fucking good idea of what gets you to that level.

"Been there," he says after a long pause, rubs his hand against one of his arms and ducks his head a little to try to meet Finch's eyes. Another few beats before he speaks up again. "Lucky, though. Havin' someone to help you out like that. It ain't-" He sniffs and pinches his nose, shakes his head briefly. "Ain't easy findin' friends like that."

He lets Pinkman catch his gaze, solemn and quiet about it. He figured Pinkman had been there. Dealers have to start somewhere, right? And in any case, it's nice to have someone who gets it. Who understands how much easier it is to just lose yourself in it, sometimes, to get so low that you don't want to pull yourself back up.

Jesse nods at what Pinkman says, though, wrapping his arms around his stomach. "I didn't think I had a friend like that 'til he locked me in the bathroom of his apartment t'dry me out," Jesse says, half amused, rubbing at his hair in mild embarrassment. "Always wanted to return the favor, y'know? If I hadn't gotten out, I never woulda met Galen."

He glances at Pinkman. "You got friends like that?"

Yeah, Jesse definitely gets it, definitely knows the feeling of losing yourself, even when it's just trapped in your own fuckin' body. He's a pro at rock bottoms by now, between sleeping on the floor of an RV covered in somebody else's shit, and, well. Recently, back in Albuquerque. He didn't just hit rock bottom; he goddamn brought rock bottom to him.

His hand paws at the back of his neck, agitated as Finch talks, but it's the only sign of anything going on in his head - kind of smiles a little weakly when the guy keeps going. "Sounds like a keeper." Both of 'em, he guesses. "Bathroom floor? Seriously rough, man." But if it works, it works. And Finch is clean now, for now. He stuck with it - Jesse's not sure he could do the same.

The question gets his jaw hanging open a tick, no words coming out for a moment before he looks down at his feet and rubs more at his neck. "Totally, totally," he says in a voice that's really not the most convincing thing. "Got my boys, Badger and Skinny back home." But he hasn't seen them in days- well, longer now that he's here. Kinda misses them. He's quiet a long moment, worries at his bottom lip as he debates even saying. "Kinda- have this, uh. Well, I mean, he checked me into rehab while back, guess I was pretty-" He twists his head and squeezes at the back of his neck, worriedly. "-down."

Maybe it's not the most convincing thing, but Jesse is always careful not to push too hard. If he does, Pinkman takes that metaphorical two steps back, and Jesse's trying his hardest to avoid that.

His expression's softer when Pinkman says he had someone to check him into rehab. Jesse pulls his knees to his chest, peering down at Pinkman from behind them. "Yeah?" He asks, quiet. "Could be a good thing, y'know? Someone looking out for you."

He's quiet for a moment again, eyebrows furrowed, and it's been a while since he's hashed up any of this. His hand presses against his face, rubs into it for a good long while as he starts and aborts about a half a dozen different sentences.

"Guy ain't exactly your role model friend," he finally decides on, finger pressing into one of his eyes and pushing at the lid for a while, in debate. "I mean, he's a total- like, dick and everything, but- I don't know, M-" And he stops for a moment, like he's not sure he should actually be saying the guy's name. "Mr. White, he's always had my back and I don't see it changin'."

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We've got nothing to prove

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