We've got nothing to prove

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[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?"

Comments

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"It's-"

For a moment, Jesse's expression is about as certain as Finch probably feels right now, never was very good at his poker faces. A few abandoned pep talks start and die in his mouth, and he waves a hand towards Finch about as many times. He finally decides on what he's doing with a crouch down, gets more to Finch's level than the one he's at now, his arms dangling over his knees.

"Ya help," he finally decides on, "ya know, as much as anyone lets you." Which, on Jesse's side, really isn't a lot, and he's not even sure what to do with what he's been given, not yet. "Yo, chin up. It's all good, man."

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Nobody lets him, is the thing, but Jesse gets what Pinkman's saying. He sighs, and reaches to put his hand on Pinkman's face so he can shove at it a little, playful. Whatever, it's fine, they're fine, and Jesse swallows the serious things he wants to say (look, I've got your back, okay, you don't have to take all of this on your own, you could talk to me if you wanted) in favor of jokes.

"Yeah, well, everybody else is a fat fucking roadblock." He sniffs in amusement and looks at Pinkman. "We done being gay at each other?" Jesse.

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And he knows it doesn't end there, he's not an idiot, but Finch pushes at his face before he can say anything else and he actually laughs a little, claps a hand at Finch's own as he leans back and almost falls over onto his ass - does, actually, sits cross-legged for a moment like he meant to do it; his hands sit in his lap.

"Yeah, yeah," he replies, could realize how much of a roadblock he is on his own, really, but instead he's just flicking at Finch's nose and starting to push himself to his feet again. "Don'tcha got, like, some dicks ta suck somewhere or somethin'? Jesus."

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It makes him laugh again, anyway, and for right now? It's okay. Making another face at Pinkman, he watches as the other Jesse stands up. And because he's an asshole who can't resist: "Yeah, actually - I could start with yours, if y'want." Don't play with fire if you don't want to have homoerotic comments thrown at you, Pinkman.

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Oh, for goodness' sake -

It's like a competition now, his need to win outweighing his discomfort with that situation as he just grabs a full handful of his crotch and squeezes for emphasis. "Yeah, yeah, well, just dive right on in, bitch," he jeers as he takes a step or two back.

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Okay, okay, you win, Pinkman. You're not even his type. Jesse cackles, flopping back against the couch. "Nah, nah, I'll pass. I remember, you like the vagina." See, he remembers these things, isn't he a good friend. And now for some self deprecating humor! The best kind. He sticks out his tongue. "Better not hang with me too long or you'll get gay cooties, man."

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"Should I start wearin' a mask?" he shoots right back, waves a hand in Finch's direction before both of his hands slip into his jean pockets, his shoulders shrugging emphatically. "Oughta get my shots if I'm gonna be hangin' out with you more." He leans in a little for emphasis, raises his eyebrows. "'S a lotta homo ta contend with."

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"Damn right it's a lotta homo to contend with. Best homo you'll ever meet," Jesse hums, stretching. This whole thing he's been through several million times - usually without the jokey, friendly tone. "Don't worry 'bout the shots, you ain't my type." Neyeeeeeh.

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Luckily, Jesse still means inherently well. "Ya sure?" And there's two equal and opposite and frankly irrational responses that come with that; one that's almost insulted right off the bat - what, he not pretty enough for you, Finchy boy? - and the other mildly relieved they never have to enter that awkward port. "Ya never know when you're gonna need 'em."

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Jesse cackles, and promptly gives Pinkman the finger. "This sure enough for you?" Nah, Pinkman's cute in his way, but Jesse has a thing for goth kids, apparently. "Man, you really don't know a lotta gay people, do you?"

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There's a pause where Jesse weighs the question - to his credit, awfully more carefully than he would have back home - before he shrugs again, his arms stretching out before they fall back against his sides again. "I dunno, I mean, I guess not. Ya know, ain't exactly too popular, world I come from."

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"Guess so," Jesse hums, peering up at the ceiling. There's a lot he could say to that - but he won't, because more than half of it is downer city. "Guess nobody would really advertise it, neither. You do pretty decent, considering." What? It's a compliment.

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"Not if they knew what was good for 'em," Jesse agrees, almost carefully. But it was a weird issue, one he'd hardly had to think about before with nobody he really knew enough to think about it for. Now here he was with a good friend on his hands and it was the first time he'd ever had to make it his issue.

He nods a little like he recognizes the compliment, but still feels the need to say, "Yo, ya know-" He snaps his fingers as he thinks, claps his other hand over the first. "I ain't got no problems with, like, you doin' whatever you're doin'. It's your prerogative."

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That makes Jesse grin, as he peers over at Pinkman. "Yeah, I know. S'what I mean, you do decent. I'm an asshole who hits on you 'cause I think it's funny, but m'not actually going to attack you so I can suck your dick, promise." He looks amused. "Thanks. For not caring. Yeah?"

He shrugs. "Sides, I keep telling you, I'm into chicks, too. Just cause I got a boyfriend don't mean I can't look."

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There's a good half a dozen things he'd have had prepared to say, even a year ago, machismo about how Finch would only be so lucky to get at what he was working with here. He figures he's come a long way, when he just rubs his hand at the back of his neck. "Whatever, man. Don't matter to me junk you're rubbin' your face in."

He points to Finch for the last bit, gives him a bit of a nod. "Yeah, but see? That's just good taste. Everybody who knows what's comin' for 'em knows that tits are the bomb, a'ight? I'm talkin' everybody."

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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."

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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."

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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."

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"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."

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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.

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"'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."

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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."

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"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."

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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."

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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?"