Chapter Text

Cereal Killer

The house was completely silent, birds chirping cheerfully outside, announcing the sunrise. Rays of light finding their way through the gaps in the heavy curtains and into Walter’s bedroom, where he slept comfortably in his bed.

His alarm hadn’t gone off yet, so it was probably still early. He cracked his eyes open just enough to check the time: 7:42. He still had a few minutes of rest before the device would wake him. He couldn’t quite remember how he had ended up in his bed; fragments of the previous night surfaced in his mind—blurred images and, most likely, an existential crisis on Walter’s part—which wasn’t exactly rare, but thankfully had been happening less and less over time. With a sigh, he shifted and drifted back to sleep.

“Walter, wake up.” A gruff voice cut through the quiet.
“Come on, your alarm’s been going off for ages.” Mike said, standing beside the bed, stretching.

“It hasn’t been that long.” Walter shot back, noting that only ten minutes had passed. “Were you watching me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow smugly.

“Gimme a break.” The older man gestured lazily. “And remind me to never fall for that trap of yours again… ‘I deserve everything that happened,’ ‘I’ve never felt so defeated.’” he mocked, pitching his voice higher.

“I don't talk like that.” Walter got out of bed, putting on his glasses and heading to the bathroom, Ehrmantraut following close behind. “And, for the record, that situation was, in fact, unfortunate.”

Mike just shrugged. “Whatever. You just missed one cereal sale, it’s not the end of the world.”

“They’re Jesse’s favorite cereals!” Walter said, incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe Mike was downplaying his suffering. “You know what, forget it, I’ll make breakfast.” He gestured dramatically, leaving the other man behind brushing his teeth.

Honestly, no one understood how amazing that promo had been. He muttered to himself as he made his way to the kitchen, opening every curtain he passed through letting the sunlight flood in. It was another beautiful, sunny day in good old Albuquerque. Walter loved when natural light filled every room like this.

Stopping at the counter, he slipped on the apron he had gotten for his last birthday—big and blue, with blocky letters spelling out “let’s cook!”. It was cute and comfortable.

He started by brewing some coffee in his french press. Even though they had a perfectly working espresso machine, Mike simply preferred it this way, and Walter didn’t mind the extra effort if it meant getting a word of appreciation—it was good for his ego. Once the coffee was ready, he poured it into a mug and set it on the table where the older man usually sat.

Then he moved on to the rest. Peeled and cut assorted fruits, placing them in a bowl and mixing them with a bit of oat flakes; he also made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. As he set everything on the table, he saw Mike walk right past him toward the front door.

He returned shortly after, newspaper in hand along with a few letters, which he tossed onto the living room table. “Do you think Varga was serious when he said he was going to buy an ostrich? Because if he's gonna let that thing wander into my flower beds like he did with his cats, we’re going to have a problem.” he said seriously, sitting down and taking a sip from his cup. “Good coffee.”

“Thank you.” Walter replied, knowing Mike had his own ways of showing appreciation. “I highly doubt the law allows you to keep an ostrich in a residential area, and even if they did, i didn't hear anything about that” he added, putting some fruit and scrambled eggs onto his plate.

“Hope you’re right…” Mike muttered, flipping through the rough pages of the newspaper until he reached the crossword section. He adjusted his reading glasses before pulling a pen from his pocket.

“Well, if anything, we can call Saul.” Walter said, glancing toward the hallway where the bedrooms were. “Is Jesse still asleep?”

“Like a baby.”

“But it’s almost nine, he’s going to be late for soccer training.”

“That's life…” Mike sighed, not particularly concerned. It wasn’t the first time, and very likelynot the last, and it always ended the same way—with Walter going to wake the kid anyway. “He needs to learn to stick to a schedule—” His words were cut off as Walter quickly stood and headed toward Jesse’s room.

He opened the door quietly, stepping into the dark room. The curtains were still closed—until now. He walked over and opened them, the sudden light making his eyes sting slightly and prompting the boy in bed to stir uncomfortably.

“Hey, Jesse, wake up. You’re late.” he said, pulling the blankets away. The boy protested with a displeased expression, yawning, still not opening his eyes.

“Ugh… just a little longer, I still have time…” Jesse mumbled, his face pressed into the pillow. “Please.”

Walter relaxed slightly, his shoulders dropping. He looked around the room, taking it in. Surprisingly, it wasn’t nearly as messy as he had expected. It was actually quite nice, and aside from a few band posters Walter had never heard of, everything was in order. The talks Mike had with the boy must've helped it seemed.

A small, proud smile briefly touched his lips before he got back to the task at hand, trying to convince Jesse to be on time at least once this month. His team punished late arrivals—and more specifically, their parents. Walter and Mike had already spent enough weekends cleaning the field and polishing soccer balls.

“Alright, that’s enough. You’re getting up now, or you’re walking four kilometers to school, and I mean it, Jesse!” He shook his shoulder—almost gently.

“Okay, okay, I’m up!” Jesse protested as the shaking continued. “Alright! I get it! See? I’m standing… jeez.” He forced himself up, swaying slightly from sleep. His hair was a mess, and his expression clearly showed his desire to crawl back into bed.

“Good. Breakfast’s on the table.” Walter said, leaving the room after ruffling the boy’s hair in a brief, affectionate gesture—messing it up even more.

“Subtle.” Mike remarked dryly.

A few minutes later, Jesse finally showed up at the table. He looked less sleepy now and was already dressed in his team uniform, his long socks making him look ridiculously cute—or at least that’s what Walter thought. His hair was still messy, but you couldn’t expect much on such short time.

“Morning, Mikey.” The boy walked over, receiving a side hug and another pat on the head. “Any hard words?” he asked as he sat down, immediately taking a bite of his sandwich.

Walter stared, stunned, looking between Jesse and Mike, who glanced at him over the newspaper, already knowing exactly why the man looked so shocked, his mouth slightly open in an almost comical way.

“Aren't you forgetting something, Jesse?” Walter asked, resting his elbows on the table.

“Huh…?” The boy paused to think for a moment. “Oh, right! Where’s my cereal?” he asked quietly, sounding disappointed.

“Unbelievable.” Walter shook his head, taking another sip of his coffee. He continued when he saw Jesse’s confused expression. “Not even a ‘good morning’ for me? Is this how I’m treated after everything I do for you?”

“Oh—sorry. Morning, Walt. I just forgot…” Jesse tried, gesturing with his hands.

“No, no. It’s fine, everything’s perfect. You skip buying cereal one day and suddenly you’re the worst guardian ever.” he went on dramatically.

“Come on, Walt! You showed up in my room, I counted that as a good morning, I just got confused! Geez.” He went back to eating his sandwich, a bit more aggressively this time. Not that he was angry, he just really didn’t like arguments that could easily be avoided, especially in the morning.

“Oh, here’s one: twelve-letter word for ‘dramatic’…” Mike said after a long silence, clearly uninterested in the small display of frayed nerves.

The other two paused for a few seconds, thinking, until a mischievous smile spread across Jesse’s face. “Oh, I know this one!” he said. “Walter H. White.”

Mike chuckled, noticing that, technically, it fit the twelve squares.

“Nice try, but that’s three words.”

“Histrionical.” Walter said after thinking for a while, smiling proudly.

“Oh, come on, you definitely just made that up,” Jesse pointed out laughing a little, not quite convinced that histrionical was a real word.

“Mm-hm, exactly. Thank you, Walt.” Mike replied, finishing the crossword and setting the newspaper aside.

“Seriously?… Every day I question whether I’m actually fluent.” Jesse muttered, shrugging before going back to his breakfast.

Once they had finished eating and cleaned up, Jesse was already running too late. He grabbed all his things as quickly as he could and headed toward Mike’s car—not before giving Walter a hug that lasted a little too long for his liking.

“Alright, you’re suffocating me.” Walter complained. “We need to go.”

“I know…” Walter relented, pulling away. “Hey, I was thinking we could order fried chicken for dinner, what do you think?” he asked as they reached the porch.

“Yeah, that’d be histrionical!” Jesse said, using the word of the day ironically—but genuinely approving the idea, making the other two laugh.