Jesse wakes up naked and alone in Saul's bed. The glow of morning seeps into the room, bright and unfettered from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. He's got a bit of a headache, but it's nothing a couple Tylenol can't fix.
He breathes in the scent of crisp, clean sheets. Last night comes back to him in flashes of skin and sighs and strong hands on his hips. Jesse had sex with Saul. Saul Goodman. The dorky, pain-in-the-ass, fast-talking sleazy lawyer. He's ready for the hangover of regret to hit him and remind him of the boozed-up mistake he made.
But it doesn't come. Jesse doesn't regret last night, not really. He wonders what they're going to do now. Will they have some awkward conversation about it or pretend it never happened? He also wonders if it might happen again. Jesse can't get enough of how Saul's hands felt on his skin, the way Saul gasped Jesse's name in orgasm. Saul's only ever called him "kid" or "Pinkman." This was new, exciting, erotic.
But Jesse knows it only happened because they'd been drinking. Had Saul been sober, he wouldn't have watched Jesse with hungry eyes of his own. Today is gonna be awkward as fuck.
Jesse sits up and looks around the room for his clothes. His boxers are slung over the bench at the foot of the bed, along with his shirt, jacket, and tie. He pulls his underwear on, noting the sickly-sweet ache in the back of his thighs that reminds him exactly what he did last night. He finds a plush robe in the bathroom and wraps himself in it, cinches the tie around his hips.
Now or never. He can't stay locked in here all weekend.
Jesse gathers his nerve and makes his way down the stairs. Saul's sitting on the couch, his legs propped up on the coffee table. The TV's on, and there's a plate of food in his lap. Jesse tries to keep his footsteps quiet, but one of the stairs creaks under his weight.
Saul turns his head and sees Jesse there. "Mornin', Sleeping Beauty."
Jesse's blood heats up under his skin. The words feel like they means something more now that Saul's seen him naked. "You got food?" Jesse says, feigning nonchalance.
"Yeah, yours is on the table. It should still be warm." Jesse finds the platter full of pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns and sausage links. "Coffee's ready too, if you drink it."
"Thanks." Jesse brews himself a cup, pours in some creamer. He pulls out a chair and sits at the table, unsure if he's wanted any closer to Saul. Because Saul's seen him naked, and that is the total opposite of normal. He eats his breakfast in silence, occasionally glancing up at the TV screen. A familiar song gives him pause. "Dude, is that Rocky Horror?"
Saul looks over at him in surprise. "You've seen it?"
Jesse laughs, because there's no way Saul could possibly be this cool. "Yeah. I can't believe you have though."
"When I was in high school, my friends and I would go to those midnight screenings where everybody dressed up as the characters. It was a whole 'audience participation' thing."
Jesse snorts a laugh. "That's the nerdiest fucking thing I've ever heard." He's actually kind of impressed; he never thought he'd meet someone who out-nerded Badger.
"It was the late seventies," Saul says, as if that explains everything. And maybe it does. "Everything was flamboyant and ridiculous."
It seems like they've found their balance again, trading casual conversation with ease. Things have changed between them, sure, but Jesse doesn't have to act like everything's gone wrong and weird. He takes his breakfast over to the couch and sits beside Saul, balancing his plate in his own lap. "Man, it's been forever since I've seen this. Did Meat Loaf show up yet?"
"Oh yeah, he's already dead."
"Damn."
"It's almost over. Which is good for me, because this is one of the few movies I'll watch to completion any time it's on. I can't turn away; it's a sickness."
"I never would'a imagined in, like, a million years you'd be into this kind of stuff," Jesse says, his mouth full. "What other crazy shit you keepin' from me?"
Saul looks at Jesse and arches an eyebrow. "You'll just have to find out, won't you, kid?" It sounds like flirtation, an invitation to something more, but Jesse doesn't want to disturb the equilibrium they've got going here. So he just settles in and eats his pancakes while they watch the rest of the movie.
Every so often Saul will look over at Jesse and smirk to himself, like he's running through jokes in his head. Jesse has no idea what the hell that's about. He wants to ask what Saul's deal is, but maybe the dude's just smug over getting Jesse in bed. If it was as good for Saul as it was for Jesse, Saul's got every right to be smug.
It's so tragically unfair that the best sex Jesse's ever had was with Saul Goodman. Fuck Jesse's life sideways.
After breakfast, Jesse steals his clothes back while Saul's in the shower. He thinks he ought to do the same. A shower might be good for him. A cleansing of sorts, washing off all the weirdness and starting over. It's totally metaphorical and shit, yo.
He makes his way into his bathroom and turns on the shower. The stall is big enough to hold a small party. Jesse steps under the hot spray, lets his body unwind and untense like a screw being loosened. He figures they're taking the "never speak of this again" route for their, uh, sexcapade. Saul hasn't mentioned it or flirted with him—at least not more than usual, so Jesse stomps out his curiosity like a brushfire. In the end, Saul's just Jesse's lawyer—maybe a budding friend—barring one exceptional circumstance where they pretended to be so much more. Just get past this, have fun, and spend money. That's the point, right?
Once Jesse wipes the steam off the mirror, he realizes ignoring this little fling won't be as easy as it sounds. Three reddish-violet splotches have bloomed on his neck, his chest, and his collarbone. Hickeys.
Heat floods through Jesse when he remembers how Saul glanced over at him and smirked this morning. That smooth son of a bitch. Admiring his handiwork.
Jesse doesn't own any turtlenecks, and popped collars stopped being cool in the eighties, so he's shit out of luck here. Of course, there's plenty of shops in the hotel where he could pick up some foundation to match his skin tone, but he's not sure he wants to play it that way. Covering the marks might give Saul the impression Jesse thinks last night was a terrible, drunken memory he wants to repress.
Despite Jesse's irrational paranoia, he knows no one who sees the marks would give them a second thought. It's not as if everyone in the vicinity would know exactly who sucked kisses into his neck. People get lucky in Vegas all the time. Who gives a shit?
So Jesse just towels off and throws on a t-shirt and jeans, because this isn't a date and Saul doesn't care how he looks.
God, a single one-night stand and Jesse turns into a teenage girl. This can't be healthy. At least it's an improvement over the stress of working with Mr. White in the Vamonos lab. Thank Christ he doesn't have to do that shit anymore.
"So, what's the plan for today?" Jesse asks when they're heading to the elevators. "You wanna hit the casino again? You do slots, I do craps?"
Saul grins. "I love it when you say 'craps.'"
"Would it kill you to be serious for once?" Jesse asks, fighting a smile.
"I don't know; I've never tried." Saul opens the elevator for him and presses the button for the ground floor. Jesse gives him a perplexed look. "I thought we'd take a look around town. There's a great big city out there—might as well see it while we're here."
"You've already seen it," Jesse reminds him.
"But you haven't. I'm your tour guide, remember?" He pats Jesse's shoulder as the elevator door opens. Jesse feels a rush at the touch and doesn't even know why. "Y'know, there's an amusement park and carnival not too far from here," Saul says, walking through the lobby. "You're not afraid of roller coasters, are you?"
"Uh..."
Jesse hesitates a second too long, because Saul looks at him in disbelief. "You are?" He chuckles like Jesse's just told him the world's most hilarious joke. "So you're afraid of ghosts and roller coasters?"
Jesse would love to meet one person who doesn't bust his balls when they find out this particular fact. "Yeah, I'm full of surprises," he grumbles.
"Well, hey, they got other stuff too—laser tag, bumper cars, miniature golf—"
"They got Putt-Putt? Hell yeah!"
"Are you any good?"
"No, but it's fun, yo." Jesse's not mentioning that he's deadly with a putter. Saul's gonna have to find out for himself—and maybe dodge a few stray golf balls.
"I'll wipe the floor with you. At the risk of being immodest, I'm not too bad a golfer."
They get outside and wait for the valet to bring the car around. "Golf is such an old dude's sport though. I could totally see Mike bein' into that."
"We might've played a few rounds," Saul admits in a low voice, like he's ashamed Mike lives up to Jesse's stereotype.
"I fuckin' knew it. Did he wear all those bright-ass colors that're part of the golfer dress code?" Jesse can't picture Mike Ehrmantraut in neon orange or yellow or wearing plaid anything. He just can't.
"Hey, stray golf carts are the number one cause of golfer injury in the US," Saul says with a completely straight face.
"Bullshit," Jesse laughs.
"You gotta dress to be seen."
"Totally not a problem for you, huh?" Jesse says, staring out ahead. He can see the Hooters casino and the Tropicana in the distance.
"I think I'm impressively understated today," Saul protests. He tugs at the edge of his t-shirt for emphasis. It's true; he's not wearing anything loud or flashy or expensive. He looks like someone's Cool Dad. Someone's Cool Hot Dad with really nice forearms that Jesse's doing his best not to notice.
The drive ends up taking longer than Jesse thought it would. He doesn't mind, because he gets to gawk at the passing scenery. The sights and sounds on the way into Vegas were just the tip of the iceberg. Inside the city, each building is more magnificent and grandiose than the last. The Paris hotel looks like an antique French manor. An Eiffel Tower replica bursts from the middle like a genetic mutation. Caesar's Palace sprawls to the left, with a dome that looks like a Roman colosseum. Thick clusters of palm trees line each side of the road. They pass by the Mirage and the Italian brickwork of the Palazzo. Scaffoldings and construction equipment are present on either side of the road, because there's always room for more, apparently.
The aptly-named Adventuredome is located on the property of the Circus Circus hotel. Jesse wants to hold Saul's hand as they walk through the giant pink dome filled with rides and games, but he'd rather not risk it when Saul could knock him senseless with the putter.
"I guess this isn't the best time to tell you I have a three handicap in golf," Saul says, sizing up the first hole.
"You want me to go easy on you?"
Saul laughs, a warm, rich sound that Jesse wants to wrap himself in. "If you would. Actually, kid, why don't you go first?" He steps aside and lets Jesse take the first swing.
It's been a while since Jesse's played. The ball goes flying, bounces off the divider, and rolls back to Jesse's feet before stopping when it hits his shoe.
"That was amazing," Saul says, with reverence.
"Shut up. I'm just rusty." Jesse lines up the shot again and tries tapping it this time. The ball hits a forty-five degree angle and glides toward the hole. It stops just short of its intended destination. Jesse grunts a frustrated noise under his breath.
"It's like watching a master at work."
"Shut up, Mr. Handicap," Jesse grunts, finally knocking the ball in after three strokes.
Saul grins, all warmth and perfect teeth. "You know nothing about golf, do you?"
"I know enough," Jesse bites back. "But that Wimbledon shit bores me to death."
"Wimbledon is for tennis."
Jesse rolls his eyes. "I'm gonna hit you with this and make it look like an accident." He jabs the putter in Saul's direction.
Saul places his ball down and lines up his shot. "I'd really like to see you try."
"I will. I got a mean backswing, yo." Jesse watches in horror as Saul taps the ball and sends it bouncing off the divider and into the hole. The exact strategy Jesse had planned before his own ball decided to go rogue. "Everybody gets lucky once, right?" he jokes before hearing the implications there.
Shit. Fuck. Crap. Jesse wonders if his face is as red as it feels.
Saul just smirks and says, "Don't I know it?"
It takes a couple hole-in-ones for Jesse to realize Saul isn't relying on luck so much as actual skill. He's pretty damn good at this, which is dealing serious damage to Jesse's self-esteem. He wants to impress Saul, but that's hard to do when you're losing golf balls to the pond and taking out your own kneecaps. What makes this public humiliation even worse is Saul's not even attempting to hide his laughter. Dick. Jesse hates him and his stupid, attractive, weird face.
"I thought you said you suck at this game," Jesse snaps after Saul lands another hole-in-one.
Saul retrieves both balls from the cup. "I said I have a three handicap."
Jesse throws his arms out like he doesn't understand. "Yeah?"
"Kid, in golf, a handicap doesn't mean you suck." Saul tosses Jesse's ball to him, and he fumbles with the catch. "Hitting the ball so hard it ricochets and hits you in the knee means you suck."
"Like you've never done that," Jesse snaps. Saul's teasing winds Jesse up, which is good. This is the form of their relationship Jesse knows how to be a part of. The one where they're naked and raw and desperate is a hell of a lot more confusing.
"Can't say I have. Though I'm sure I hit other people the last time I played miniature golf."
"See?" Jesse sticks his tongue out.
"Of course, I was ten at the time."
Saul ends up winning, which comes as a surprise to no one. Jesse doesn't mind too much. Saul's smug as hell when he wins, which makes him impossibly more attractive. But Jesse gets his revenge by wiping the floor with Saul in the arcade games.
As they're exiting the arcade, Saul takes Jesse's hand and starts leading him somewhere. Jesse's heart pounds a mile a minute. Saul's holding his hand. Something flutters in Jesse's chest. He wonders if Saul's been thinking the same things he has.
Saul slows his pace when they reach the roller coaster viewing area. He peers down into the lower level at the coaster tracks. "You sure you don't wanna ride one?" he asks with a lilt of teasing in his voice.
Jesse watches a coaster car speed through a double loop and feels his stomach turn. "Hell no."
Saul leans against the railing, gives Jesse an amused look. "What's your horror story? You get stuck on one when you were a kid and swear off all roller coasters forever?"
"No, I just like being alive." Jesse risks another glance at the ride as it rockets through two corkscrews.
"You've been on them before and didn't die, right?" Jesse doesn't answer, and Saul's eyebrows soar. "Oh my God, you've never been on a roller coaster."
Jesse rubs the back of his neck. He hadn't realized how many life experiences he's missed out on until he met Saul.
"How is that even possible?" Saul asks, bemused. "You were a kid at some point, right?"
"I was always too scared," Jesse mumbles. There is so much judging going on right now, he just knows it. "So my parents never pushed."
"Well, I think it's time you faced your fears, Pinkman." Jesse's knuckles go white as he grips the railing. "I'll go with you, don't worry. You can pick whichever one you want. It'll be fun." Saul doesn't give Jesse time to argue, just takes his hand again and leads him to the lower level stairs. Riding a metal death machine is worth getting to hold Saul's hand.
There's only two rides on the coaster level, but both of them look like complicated, terror-laden ways to die. Jesse picks the least threatening of the two, which isn't saying much. Once they're seated, Saul's practically sprawled out beside him. His hands aren't gripping the safety bar like it's his last hope of survival. Jesse doesn't understand how he can be so relaxed.
"It only goes fifty-five," Saul says while they're waiting for the ride to start. Like that's reassuring somehow. "You probably drive faster than that."
"At least when I'm driving I can actually control the car."
Saul chuckles a soft sound. "You realize these rides are designed to be safe for children?"
"Yeah, they're supposed to be," Jesse reminds him, because sometimes gruesome accidents happen.
Saul responds with an eyeroll and a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth.
Throughout the ride, Jesse keeps one hand clenched around the safety bar and the other clasped in Saul's own. Saul doesn't seem to mind, though Jesse catches Saul wincing every time his grip tightens when they go through a loop or corkscrew. Jesse loosens up about halfway through the ride. He's probably not going to die and, hey, this is actually kind of fun. Saul lets Jesse hold his hand like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Jesse really, really wants it to be.
"See, that wasn't so bad," Saul says as they're climbing out of the coaster car. "Look what you've been missing out on."
Jesse can't help the smile that spreads on his lips. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You were right. You done gloating?"
"I'm just getting started, kid."
They take the stairs back to the main level. Jesse spots a ticket redemption booth filled with various colorful prizes. The glass display case holds paltry winnings: cheap plastic toys and miscellany guaranteed to break before leaving the place. The wall at the back of the booth holds the best prizes: plush animals, character backpacks, dolls and action figures. A giant plush shark crowns the top of the prize booth at a hefty fee of 250 tickets.
"I need that shark," Jesse says with determination. "I've already named him."
"You named him?"
"Yeah, Renaldo. Or Rondo, for short."
Saul snorts a laugh. "Imagine how much less terrifying Jaws would've been if it was named Renaldo." At Jesse's pouty expression, he says, "How're you gonna win 250 tickets?"
Jesse starts heading for the line of midway games. "I dunno, man, but I'm gonna."
"Y'know, not to brag, but I'm pretty good at skee-ball."
"You got a three handicap in that too?"
Saul smirks at him. "Why don't you let me win this one for you, Pinkman?"
They spend an hour and a half in the midway earning tickets for the shark. Jesse learns Saul wasn't full of shit about his skee-ball skills. He's pretty damn good at most of these games, actually. Jesse's gut instinct is to be jealous, but he can't be. Saul is so interesting and peculiar and wonderful. Jesse's learned more about Saul in two days than he's learned about Walt in a year.
Jesse carries his armful of tickets to the counter and exchanges them for Renaldo. He lays Renaldo in the back seat of the Cadillac when they get to the car. Saul's amused half-smile seems permanently etched onto his face.
"What?" Jesse says.
"I didn't say anything."
"You're smiling."
"I can't sing, I can't smile, what am I allowed to do?"
"You can smile, just not like you're makin' fun of me."
"Trust me, kid, I'm not makin' fun of you," Saul says, and Jesse believes him. He switches on the ignition. "So, you hungry?"
Lunch takes place at a sushi restaurant inside the Venetian hotel. Jesse can barely pronounce half the shit on the menu, so he just orders the steak. From the other side of the table, Saul silently judges Jesse's lack of culinary adventure.
"Let me guess, you've never had sushi either?" Saul asks while they're waiting for the food.
Jesse glares at him. "You're not ropin' me into this one, dude."
"That's what you said about the roller coaster."
"See, I already tried somethin' new today."
"And it ended up being better than you thought, right?"
Jesse sighs and scrubs a hand over his head. "Still not happening."
"I'll wear you down eventually," Saul says, with a smug, self-assured smirk. And judging by how Saul's charm has worked like...well, a charm, Jesse has no doubt he will.
Saul's food arrives first. Jesse finds himself staring at the long platters of sushi with, as Saul had dubbed them, hungry eyes. It doesn't look as gross as he'd thought and, oh shit, is that melted cheese? Jesse's reconsidering everything he thought about sushi right now.
Saul looks up from his plate, chopsticks stalled in mid-air. "Stop looking at my food like you want to screw it and just grab a piece."
Jesse scowls at him but reaches out and jabs a slice of the roll onto his fork. He bites into the piece, chews it over for a bit. It's tangy and sweet and pretty good, and, damn it, Saul's done it again. If he thinks he can just flash a crooked smirk or do that thing with his eyebrows and win Jesse over, he's right, but Jesse won't stop finding it hot and ridiculously manipulative.
"You actually use chopsticks?" Jesse asks as Saul grabs a sushi roll. "You're so pretentious."
"I prefer the term 'cultured.'"
"Yeah, you would. Snob."
"There is nothing snobby about being able to eat Cheetos without withdrawing an orange claw of failure from the bag."
Jesse gives him a judgemental stare. "You seriously eat Cheetos with chopsticks? Holy shit. I'm not sure if that's a life hack or the most pretentious thing I've ever heard."
Saul just reaches over and steals a fry from Jesse's plate.
"You bitch."
While Jesse's cutting into his steak, Saul takes out his phone and taps the screen. "Somebody else you'd rather be talkin' to?" Jesse whines.
"I'm looking for our next stop," Saul says without taking his eyes off the screen. After a moment or two, he chuckles for no apparent reason.
"What? What is it?" Jesse hates being left out.
"I'll show you after lunch," Saul says with a devious smile.
Jesse shakes his head. "You're such an asshole."
"I know you don't mean that, kid. You're smiling."
Of course Jesse's stupid face would betray him. He wipes a hand over his mouth as if doing so might wipe away the smile—it doesn't. "'Course I am. I'm happy."
Saul looks wary, startled, and a little proud of himself. "Yeah?"
"It's like I can just forget about all the bad shit and just enjoy my life, y'know? I wish we could do this forever. Just, like, drive all over and have an adventure. And the company's good too..." Jesse rubs his arm, suddenly shy. He doesn't want to be too honest if it's going to get shoved back in his face. "I mean, you're the only person I could do this with."
Saul smiles like Jesse's said something meaningful. "Yeah, I'm starting to think this trip was a good idea too."
After lunch, they drive to a zombie apocalypse store across the freeway. Jesse thinks this is the coolest thing ever. Saul's getting pretty good at finding things Jesse likes, sometimes without even realizing it. It's like Jesse's had three dates with Saul today, one after the other. He wonders if they could do this—these pseudo-dates and friendly teasing and warm smiles—all of it, forever.
They drive back to the hotel when the sun begins to dip in the sky. Jesse opts to stay in the room for a bit. Saul says he's got business elsewhere and leaves Jesse alone. Jesse's fine with that, because he needs some time to himself. Being around Saul this long has him twisted up.
He lays Renaldo on his bed, because he thinks the shark will make an awesome body pillow. Jesse's a cuddler at heart. He wrapped himself up last night so he wouldn't climb the nearest available body: Saul's. Despite their jizz-smeared encounter, Jesse thinks cuddling would cross a couple boundary lines.
Or maybe not. Clearly their one-night stand hasn't made things awkward between them. They've been getting along great despite seeing each other naked. If Jesse didn't know better, he'd think Saul was flirting with him today: holding his hand, winning Renaldo for him, choosing all their destinations, the constant teasing and soft smiles. Jesse wants to raise the topic of their tryst, but everything's been going so well. He's terrified he'll ruin the friendship they've built here.
Jesse pours himself a glass of wine at the wet bar to shut his brain off for a bit. The wine is light and sweet on his tongue. He gulps it down, because Saul's not here to scold him for that. He's a grown man, and he can chug wine if he wants to, damn it.
He likes the way a glass or two of wine makes his head feel deliciously fuzzy. The lines between bad decisions and brilliant ideas begin to blur. Just the way he'd been last night when he went to bed with Saul. He wonders if Saul was just as intoxicated. Or is fucking Jesse something Saul wants when he's sober too?
Jesse polishes off about a third of a bottle before the glow of the outdoor pool looks irresistible. He hadn't thought to bring a swimsuit, but it's their own private pool. The room's twenty-nine stories up, and the sun's sunken below the horizon. No one will see him if he decides to toss his clothes over the nearest chair and swim nude.
The ever-blurry line of brilliance and idiocy. Thanks, alcohol.
Jesse sinks in the blue-green water, immediately comfortable and weightless. The underwater spotlights make him feel like he's on display. But it's not like anyone could see he's naked in here anyway.
He can barely remember the last time he went swimming. It had to be years ago, a reprieve from the crushing desert heat. Jesse sinks deeper, submerging his entire body underwater. It's pretty awesome down here. He thinks about staying in the water forever, but he doesn't have gills, so his lungs protest that idea and force him to come up for air. Why doesn't he have gills? It's like biology thwarted his decision to abandon the human world and swim with the dolphins forever.
Then a thought pops into his head and makes him laugh, and he doesn't stop until he hears Saul's voice say, "Are the ghosts good comedians?"
Jesse flails and sends water splashing as he whirls around. "Dude, where the fuck did you come from?"
"I asked you first."
Jesse figures Saul must have sneaked in while he was underwater. "I just thought of somethin' funny."
"Are you going to share? I happen to enjoy a good joke."
Jesse decides to just tell him, because he knows it'll make Saul sorry he even asked. "I was thinkin' about swimming with dolphins, and then I remembered that episode of South Park"—fuck, he starts laughing midway through the sentence—"where Kyle's dad got plastic surgery to be a dolphin—" Saul's staring at him like he's a puppy stuck in a box, and Jesse cannot stop laughing now.
"Are you drunk?" Saul asks, barely holding back a smile.
"Maybe, yeah," Jesse says through fading giggles.
Saul's still giving him that weird look. Jesse can't understand why because he's stopped laughing, and—
Oh.
Jesse follows Saul's gaze. The pool lights do nothing to hide the fact that Jesse's skinny-dipping here. Saul opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. "You're naked."
Jesse can't cover himself, and turning around probably won't help. He wades up to Saul and presses himself against the edge of the pool. His drunk brain spits out this little gem: "What, see somethin' you like?"
Saul blinks over and over, his cheeks going a little pink. "That's gonna make it weird if I jump in there, isn't it?"
"Are you gonna be naked too?"
"Yeah, I didn't really think about swimming when I packed my bags."
Jesse decides to just rip off the band-aid and acknowledge the elephant in the room before it stampedes them to death. "Bein' naked together didn't bother you last night. Why's it matter now?"
Saul sort of gasps, his eyes going wide. Jesse can see his throat bob when he swallows. Oh shit, oh fuck. Panic grips Jesse's heart. He wants to say something to take the words back but doesn't know how. All he can do is watch as Saul mumbles, "Yeah, okay," and stumbles inside the room.
Jesse opens his mouth to say, wait, no, please. Don't leave. It was a joke. I thought this clumsy flirtation was something we could do. I know I'm no good at this, not like you are. Let's just pretend I never said that, okay? But the words get caught in his throat. Through the windows, he can see Saul climbing the stairs. Jesse has to turn away, because he's lost too many people already. He can't bear to watch someone else walk away.
Jesse wraps his arms around himself like he's cold. He's such an idiot. Of course Saul would balk at the idea of being naked with Jesse again. Last night was just a drunken mistake Saul wants nothing more than to forget. That's why he hasn't mentioned it at all. Saul was ridiculously blunt about wanting to have "mind-blowing, life-altering sex" with Jesse. When he wants something, he makes it known.
Stupid of Jesse to have thought any different.
What's so awful about him that Saul couldn't find even one thing to like? He thought they were getting along great, trading banter, cracking jokes, learning about each other. Jesse even made Saul laugh a few times. How could this have gone so wrong so quickly?
The sound of the balcony door sliding open makes Jesse jump.
"Are you peeing in the pool?" Saul asks with offense.
Jesse feels a starburst of hope explode in his chest. "What? No, dude, that's gross!" he snaps, turning to face Saul. Saul's got a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist and another slung over his shoulder. He lays one towel near the edge of the pool. Holy shit, Jesse gets to see Saul naked a second time.
Jesse's brain pretty much stops working.
"I'll take your word for it," Saul says, stepping into the water. Jesse's gaze runs over Saul's neck and shoulders and chest and stomach. Then the towel's gone, and Jesse doesn't even have words anymore.
The crisis-center part of his brain reminds him that hiding a boner here will be close to impossible.
"It's warmer than I thought." Saul sighs in contentment, submerged to his waist. Jesse stares at the blurry, rocking water below, like he's a teenager trying to spot a breast through a scrambled cable channel feed.
"Yeah," Jesse says. Mr. Conversation. He wades closer, and the simple movement feels like he's risking everything.
Saul watches him with interest. "Your eyes are red."
Jesse rubs his palms over them, as if that might help. "Chlorine stings like a bitch."
Saul does that pinching thing with his mouth where he looks like he wants to argue. He stares out at the blinking city lights instead. Jesse decides to take another risk, because the first time turned out pretty well.
Jesse breathes in the crisp sting of chlorine and chemicals. He imagines the air is courage filling his lungs. "So, um, we should probably talk about last night..."
He thinks he sees a glint of panic in Saul's eyes. "Oh yeah? You wanna file a complaint?"
"Actually," Jesse starts, wading closer, "I thought maybe we could, y'know, keep going? I mean, you had fun, right? Why's it gotta be just a one-time thing? We're in Vegas, yo. Live it up or whatever."
Saul gives him a curious eyebrow lift but says nothing else. His lips are parted like he wants to say something. All Jesse can think about right now is kissing him. He looks away, his gaze snagging on how Saul's shoulders strain from the water. "You—you don't have to," Jesse continues, interpreting Saul's silence as rejection. "I just thought it'd be somethin' else fun we could do. Was it—Was I okay?"
"You were there, kid. What'd'you think?"
His gut says Saul had a damn good time, but he's not totally sure. "It was good, right?"
"A bit of an understatement, but, yeah, 'good' works." Saul smirks, and Jesse turns to jelly. He lays a hand along the small of Jesse's back, drawing him nearer. "I'm absolutely okay with continuing this, but it's gotta be something you want too. Don't let me use you."
When was the last time someone asked Jesse what he wanted? Jesse wets his lips. "What if I wanna be used? I mean, I know you won't—You're not—Can we just..." He huffs a laugh of frustration. "God, this was so much easier when you did it."
Saul lays his other hand over the slope of Jesse's neck and moves in, pressing his mouth against Jesse's own. Jesse doesn't think about pushing him away, not for a second. He doesn't know why Saul's kissing him when they never crossed that line before. But he's not stopping to find out. Saul's mouth is softer than Jesse thought it would be, but there's an urgency there, like he's trying to catch up to something. He tastes like liquor and warmth and acceptance and home.
Jesse lifts his shaking arms and wraps them around Saul's neck. Saul curls his hand around Jesse's hip, the other holding Jesse's face like he's made of porcelain. Jesse shivers at the touch, and Saul nips at his bottom lip before claiming his mouth. Saul licks his way in, tastes him with a flick of tongue before kissing him harder, fiercer. This is definitely the gayest thing Jesse's ever done, and he doesn't even care. He wants to kiss Saul all the time, wants this to be something they can just do without asking.
Jesse trails a hand over Saul's chest, exploring the wet skin on flagrant display. He learns Saul kisses a little harder when his fingers brush over nipples, when he squeezes the sensitive nubs, when he trails his index finger down the length of Saul's torso. Jesse follows the curve of Saul's hip, smooths his hand down his thigh. Saul hums a needy sound and crushes their mouths together. His hips push forward in the water.
Jesse's hand finds the jut of Saul's dick, and he wraps his fingers around it. Saul moans, rumbling and appreciative, before his mouth moves to suck under the arc of Jesse's jaw. Jesse tilts his head back, feels Saul's breath hot at his ear. His hand twists and squeezes with gentle pressure, enough to make Saul groan and shove into the stroke. It's been a while since Saul's been touched like this. Jesse will have bruises where Saul's fingers dig in around his hip, and tell-tale splotches from Saul's kisses.
"Jesse, Jesse," Saul pants into the hollow of Jesse's throat. His shoulders twitch as Jesse works him faster. Saul clutches at Jesse's back with his free hand. He bucks his hips into Jesse's fist, jostling the water between them. Jesse smothers Saul's moans with his mouth, kissing the words out of him. He feels five blazes in trails over the top of his thigh, edging toward his dick. He wants it, craves Saul's ardent touch around his cock, but not now.
Jesse pushes Saul's hand away and slices through the water, closer and closer until Saul's shoulder blades slip against the edge of the pool. "This is just for you," Jesse says, bracing his free hand against the tile and blocking Saul in. As if he would want to escape. Jesse steals another kiss, and Saul's hands shake down Jesse's spine as he lets himself go, swearing and panting Jesse's name against his mouth.
Jesse loosens his fist and teases his fingers over Saul's flagging dick. Saul's shaking from the force of his orgasm, which might be the hottest thing Jesse's seen today. "Well, that was new," Saul breathes out, slumping against the tile.
"You've never gotten a handjob in a pool before?"
"No."
"For real? You seem like the type of dude to have had, like, a hot tub orgy or something."
Saul laughs and drops his head back, exposing the curve of his throat. "My sex life isn't that exciting."
"It could be," Jesse hints, tentative, because he's pretty agreeable after sex. Maybe Saul is too. "I mean, if you want."
Saul smiles and tugs Jesse closer so he can kiss him. Jesse smiles despite himself. "I'm in full support of doing this all weekend. You're a lot of fun in the sack... and the pool."
Jesse chuckles. "Gotta be good at somethin', right?"
"That's the spirit," Saul says with a smirk. He runs a hand down the length of Jesse's thigh. "Is it your turn yet? 'Cause I've been thinking about this all night."
Jesse's heart leaps in his chest. "You've been thinkin' about jerkin' me off all night?"
"Not exactly." Saul gets his arms around Jesse's waist, guides him so he's backed up against the tile. Then he's attempting to lift Jesse, and, wow, Jesse's a little embarrassed for him. Jesse gives Saul some help by using his arms as leverage on the edge of the pool and hoisting himself up. He sits on the soft, fuzzy towel Saul laid there earlier, his legs dangling in the water. Saul moves closer and nudges Jesse's knees apart. Then there's a hand sliding up his thigh and catching around the length of his cock, and, holy motherfucking shit, that's his mouth.
Jesse moans embarrassingly loud into the night. He doesn't even care, because his dick's bumping against the back of Saul's throat. Saul's sucking him off like a total pro. He's done this before, Jesse realizes, and he's got no idea why that turns him on so much. Jesse shakes out a breath and leans back, catches himself with his arms and just watches. Saul's mouth glides over him, lips and tongue working in a way that pulls Jesse's nerves too tight.
Saul moans around him, and Jesse cries out, his hands fisting in the towel. Saul's better at this than most of the women he's been with, and, fuck, why is that so hot? There are no words for how Saul looks here, water cascading down his shoulders, his hands pushing thighs apart, and Jesse's dick in his mouth. Jesse can't look away.
"Saul, oh God," he chokes out, the air falling out of him when Saul hums around his dick. Jesse sucks a breath through his teeth and feels himself falling. "Oh fuck, oh shit, please, you gotta—" He lifts his hips, as if there's more for Saul to take in. Saul moves to let him, mouth stretched open as his lips work around the hilt. Jesse hears himself saying Saul's name, more than once, in a helpless moan as it all shakes out of him. Saul doesn't gag or cough, just swallows around him, and Jesse's totally fucking gone.
Jesse shakes and gasps his way back into the stratosphere. Saul's mouth is wet and soft when he lets Jesse slip free. Sex with Saul is pretty much the best across the board. That's so unfair Jesse doesn't even know where to start.
"Jesus," Jesse breathes out when his lungs stop spasming. His hands go loose, his arms turned to jelly. He pulls himself to a sit and threads his fingers through Saul's hair. Saul's sucking kisses into Jesse's inner thighs, which is absolutely going to leave a mark.
Jesse wonders if he could return the favor, if he'd be any good. He's considered it before, had fleeting thoughts of sucking Saul off underneath his desk. Saul's got Jesse's sexuality tied into a confusing pretzel he can't even begin to understand.
Saul climbs out of the pool, dripping water. Jesse hands him a towel and watches Saul's torso disappear under a veil of fluffy white. "I'm goin' inside," Saul says. "You comin'?"
Too easy. Jesse pulls himself up using the railing, stands on shaky legs in the chill of the air. He wraps himself in the extra towel and follows Saul inside the room. Jesse feels the water freeze over his skin. He stumbles over his clothes in a pile on the floor, because he's hyper-aware of Saul's half-naked body. He rights himself before face-planting into the carpet. Saul's completely unaware of this, which Jesse thinks is for the best.
Saul's heading up the stairs when he says, "You should probably get a shower, kid. Depending on how fancy the restaurant is, they might not let you in if you smell like a swimming pool."
Jesse completely forgot about dinner. His brain's on hiatus after getting the best blowjob of his life and seeing Saul wet and naked. "Oh—yeah, okay. Good idea." He reaches the top of the stairs and moves for his bedroom.
"Where are you going?"
Jesse looks over his shoulder at Saul, who's staring at him with those questioning eyebrows. "The—the shower's in there," Jesse says, pointing into the bedroom.
Saul breathes out a sigh, like Jesse's missed the point entirely. "You cannot take a hint, can you?"
Jesse makes a choked little huff of air. Saul can't seriously want them to shower together. They've had sex—Saul's sucked his cock, even—but this still feels like something they're not supposed to do. Something too intimate for whatever they are.
Saul rolls his eyes and takes Jesse's hand. "C'mon, kid." He leads Jesse to his bedroom and into the enormous, glistening bathroom. He turns on the shower. There's no point in being modest—the glass doors hide nothing—but Jesse still holds his towel tight around his hips.
Saul's abandoned modesty somewhere on the interstate, because he drops his towel and steps under the spray. A sound squeaks out from somewhere in Jesse's throat. Wow, that's a lot of Saul to look at. The pool obscured everything below the waist, and Jesse only caught a glimpse of Saul's ass before it disappeared under a fluffy towel. Now, there's nothing to hide his skin away, and Jesse can see that Saul's ass is fucking perfect.
Staring at his naked body in stunned silence is probably a bad start.
Jesse lets his towel fall around his ankles and joins Saul under the water. He slides the door shut, thinking if he focuses on something mundane he'll forget that he's naked in the shower with Saul. There's no forgetting.
There's a lot of touching and kissing, though. Jesse finds that he likes it when Saul pushes his back against the tile and claims his mouth. He likes Saul's strong, wide hands wrapped around his hips, his thighs, settled on either side of his face. He likes the way Saul sucks kisses over his throat and his shoulders. They both like when Saul gets Jesse's thigh between his legs and grinds into it. And Jesse's not exactly grossed out when Saul comes over his thigh.
Jesse wonders what Saul tastes like. Before Jesse can gather stripes of Saul's orgasm on his fingertips, Saul's kissing his mouth, deep and hungry. Jesse doesn't know what it means that Saul wants to kiss him after sex, just that he doesn't want it to stop.
Dinner requires them to dress up again, which Jesse doesn't mind, because Saul looks fine as hell in a suit. They dine at the Bellagio, at an outdoor table with a mesmerizing view of the Fountains. But Jesse's focused on Saul's adorable baby smile—too smug to be a smile, but not cocky enough for a smirk. It's like Saul didn't think they'd ever do this again.
"So since tomorrow's our last day here," Jesse's saying, "I think we should go big, y'know? Hit the high roller tables and blow some of this money, yo."
The baby smile disappears, replaced with a look of concern for Jesse's well-being. "Kid, you're not gonna lose five million in Vegas without drawing a lot of unwanted attention. I know you weren't too crazy about it the first time, but remember that sweet deal I showed you with all the pedicures and happy-ending massages you want? Maybe it's time to reconsider."
"I ain't buyin' no damn nail salon."
"How about laser tag? Is that more up your alley?"
Jesse sips at his wine, sighs over the rim of the glass. "What if I just... gave it away?"
"Pretty sure that would cause more problems than it would solve."
"Not if I gave it to someone I trust. Someone who wouldn't be an idiot about it," Jesse says, giving Saul a pointed look.
Saul blinks once, twice in realization. "Me?"
"No shit, you."
Saul sits up a little straighter, doesn't take his eyes off of Jesse. "You're just gonna give me close to five million dollars?" he whispers across the table.
"You got that secret safe, right?"
"It's not that secret if you know about it," Saul grumbles, but he doesn't say no.
"Just think of it as a rainy-day fund."
Saul breathes out a deep sigh. "Kid, I don't want your money." He sounds like he wants to say more, but doesn't.
Jesse leans back in his chair and shrugs. "It was worth a shot, right?"
The baby smile is back. "For what it's worth, you never know what's gonna happen. I would hold onto some of it. Just in case."
Jesse's always thought he might have to escape from Walt someday. Get a whole new identity and start fresh somewhere far away. Best to keep some money stashed for emergencies.
Jesse stares out at the dancing water. The wine's making his head a little fuzzy and light, which is good. It'll be easier for him to flirt with Saul and not overthink things. He takes another drink to speed up the process.
They stumble back to their room, mildly intoxicated. Saul keeps a hand on Jesse's lower back through the elevator ride. Jesse wants to touch him but doesn't know where to put his hands. The elevator dings, and Saul guides him out, shows him to the room as if Jesse doesn't know. But he got lost last time, so maybe Saul has a point.
Saul slinks his arm around Jesse's hips when they get to the door. Jesse's stomach flips, his heart thrumming in his chest. Saul's gazing at Jesse in a way that's impossible not to melt under. Jesse can't help the smile that spreads on his mouth, because Saul's mirth is contagious.
"I wanna kiss you," Saul murmurs, leaning in like he knows he doesn't have to ask permission.
Jesse wets his lips. "So do it."
Saul's awesome at taking directions. He presses his mouth over Jesse's own. Jesse's knees wobble, his legs turned to jelly from the force of the kiss. Saul holds him upright with a firm arm around his waist. Jesse winds his fingers into Saul's hair, tilts his head so he can kiss Saul back. He can feel Saul's lips curving into a smile, like he's pleased at how Jesse responds to him. Saul's other hand pushes underneath Jesse's blazer. The heat of his palm makes Jesse wriggle under the touch.
They're kissing in an empty, dimly-lit hotel hallway, and everything about this is perfect. Jesse gets his hands full of Saul's blazer and tugs him closer. Saul lays kisses over the skin beneath Jesse's shirt collar. Jesse's a little embarrassed by the moan he makes at that, but Saul chuckles a soft, friendly sound, and Jesse's chagrin melts away. He tips his head back, shudders when Saul licks at his Adam's apple. Jesse's hard already, because he's kissing the person he's most attracted to in the world. Saul presses closer, and Jesse's certain he can feel the way his body responds to that.
"We—we should go inside," Jesse says, catching his breath. He tries to keep his voice from shaking around the words and fails miserably.
Saul finds the key card and finagles the door open. He keeps an arm wrapped around Jesse's waist and maneuvers them inside. They lose their clothes on the way to the second floor, stripping layers off each other as they make it up the stairs. Jesse guides Saul into his bedroom, because tonight they're doing this his way. He coaxes Saul onto the mattress, and Saul lets Jesse climb on top of him and kiss his mouth.
"Can I do something for you?" Jesse asks when their mouths are their own again.
"You can do whatever you want, kid." Saul pushes himself up on his elbows to watch Jesse tug his boxers down his legs. Jesse kneels at the foot of the bed, nudges Saul's naked thighs apart. Saul makes a choked noise in his throat when Jesse wraps a hand around his dick. Jesse isn't sure he'll be any good at this. But Saul did this for him, and he wants to give something back after just taking and taking.
Jesse opens his mouth around the swollen head of Saul's cock, and he hears Saul swallow back a groan. He sucks and licks, and Saul digs his fingers in the sheets. Jesse takes him in as far as he can, which isn't much, but that's something he can learn. Saul doesn't seem to mind his unpracticed technique. He's moaning and breathing hard and panting Jesse's name. He slides a hand over the back of Jesse's shoulder, over the tattoo between his shoulder blades. Jesse licks down the length of Saul's dick, feels a bulging vein twitch under his tongue.
A deep ache roars to life in his lower belly at the sound of Saul's moans. His own erection grows and pulses, blood throbbing through his dick. Saul's got his eyes closed, his lower lip tucked between his teeth, and Jesse has to reach down and curl a hand around himself. He strokes and squeezes, humming moans around Saul's cock. He watches Saul's face, obsessed with how he responds to Jesse's virgin mouth.
Saul opens his eyes and sees Jesse's fist working between his legs. "You're gettin' off on this too, huh?" he breathes, awed.
Jesse pauses, his hand stilled, because maybe he's not supposed to enjoy this. "You don't have to stop, kid," Saul huffs out, his chest heaving with a breath. "It's okay."
Jesse swallows him a little deeper as his hand starts to move again. Saul makes a choked-off noise and whispers, "Jesse..." Jesse watches him, unable to tear his gaze away. He loves the way his name sounds from Saul's mouth. He hears it again, and again, and again, then Saul's tipping his head back and his body's shaking under Jesse's lips. He feels the drag of Saul's fingers over his back, then Jesse tastes him, thick and hot and bitter. Jesse comes over his hand, a blinding white supernova behind his eyes, and he works his dick in his fist while he swallows Saul's orgasm.
It takes them a minute for the shock and pulse of ecstasy to die down. Jesse's still touching himself, sucking lazily at the softening head of Saul's cock. "Jesus, Pinkman," Saul says through a sigh. He wraps his hand around the back of Jesse's neck and runs his fingers over the bristle there. Jesse doesn't look away, couldn't even if he wanted to; Saul's eyes are captivating. "You're gonna kill me..."
Jesse lets Saul slip out of his mouth. He runs his tongue over his lower lip to catch a stray string of cum there. "Hope not. I dunno how to get back to ABQ."
Saul laughs, and Jesse cherishes the sound. Jesse staggers to his feet and stumbles to the bathroom on rubbery legs. He rinses the evidence of his orgasm from his hands, embarrassed Saul had seen that. He thinks that's a little more than Saul bargained for, more than what they're doing here is supposed to mean. But Jesse can't ignore the way his stomach knots and twists when Saul looks at him.
He might be falling a little in love with Saul, and isn't that a terrifying thought?
When Jesse steps out of the bathroom, Saul's walking into the bedroom, his boxers slung low on his hips. Jesse finds his mouth's gone dry. Why the hell is he so attracted to Saul's body? There's just something about him that's perfectly imperfect, something real and flawed that Jesse wants all to himself.
Jesse digs a pair of underwear out of his bag and pulls them over his hips. He finds the remote on the night table, switches on the television. "You wanna stay?"
Saul smiles. "Sure."
Jesse crawls under the covers, turning onto his side and cuddling into Renaldo. Saul slips in alongside him, so close that Jesse can feel the heat of him against his back. Jesse's ignoring that so hard his brain might explode. He distracts himself by flipping channels until he finds some old Simpsons reruns. Saul just breathes over the back of Jesse's neck, making his skin tighten.
They lie there together in quiet comfort. Every now and then Jesse feels Saul huff laughter over his skin or press kisses to the freckles on his back. Jesse vaguely remembers the heat of Saul pressed against him, the solid press of limbs over his body, when his eyelids grow bleary and heavy.
Saul wakes in the middle of the night to Jesse whimpering soft, piteous sounds. This is the second time it's happened. Jesse doesn't seem to remember it or even know he does it. Saul can't see Jesse's face, but he's sure it's creased with worry. Jesse hugs his plush shark tighter and moans a distressed sound.
Saul sits up, careful not to disturb Jesse, and smooths a hand over the curve of his shoulder. His fingers find the dip of Jesse's neck, feels the thrum of his pulse. Saul breaks Jesse's "no singing" rule, because it worked the night before, and what Jesse doesn't know won't hurt him. He sings, soft and smooth, the words slow in his throat as he strokes gentle circles over Jesse's back tattoo. Jesse's breathing evens out, his whimpers ceasing. Saul's touch lingers on his skin, brushing along the curve of his jaw, the line of his throat. He feels the tension leave Jesse's body and watches him fall into a deep, calmer sleep.