Jesse feels like he has a lot of experience with secret relationships. He's not sure if that says something sad and profound about him. Jane kept their relationship a secret from her father—which, in retrospect, was probably a good idea. But it hurt at the time, because Jesse couldn't see her secrecy as anything else but proof she was ashamed or embarrassed of him.

Jesse's relationship with Saul now is an entirely different matter, because it might be dangerous for both of them not to keep this whole thing under wraps. They've only been officially dating for about a week, but Jesse doesn't doubt he could fuck this up in that short of a timespan. The idea of Walt finding out is just...no, a whirlwind of no.

Jesse wishes it were easier, though, not to feel like some dirty little secret. He likes Saul and understands the danger of being anything less than clandestine, but he also wants the things everybody else gets to have. He wants to invite Saul over to his place for dinner, to let Saul suck kisses into his neck and leave evidence of his mouth on Jesse's skin. But if Walt ever drove by and saw Saul's car parked outside of Jesse's house, or noticed one of Saul's shirts tossed over the back of the couch...

Jesse's loathe to admit it, but if Walt's going to play the part of a jealous ex-boyfriend he wishes he'd gotten some sex out of the whole deal.

He's mulling about the kitchen one morning, phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear while he drizzles syrup over hot waffles. "Yeah, it looks awesome so far," he says to Saul on the other end. "I'll bring it over next time if you want." He's nearly done building his portfolio; all that remains now are application fees and actually sending it out. He's not sure how he'll fare on the whole financial side of things—it's probably frowned upon to pay for your education with drug money—but they'll cross that bridge when they come to it.

"Of course I wanna see! It's gonna be great." Saul must hear something in the short silence there, because he says, "Hey, Jesse, you know you can come over anytime, right? It doesn't have to be a Walt-related emergency."

"Really?" Jesse's thought about dropping by Saul's office just for the hell of it, or showing up at Saul's house with pizza or take-out for an impromptu movie night, but he didn't think he had permission.

"Yeah! C'mon, you're my boyfriend now; you don't need an appointment."

Something curls in his gut, warm and tight. Saul is his boyfriend. Jesse still doesn't know what to do with that. "You sure? I can just...show up?"

"Maybe call first, 'cause I might be busy, but yeah, you totally have permission to do that."

A familiar knock on the door cuts Jesse's reply short. He turns his head in the direction of the sound. "Hold on," Jesse says. He tiptoes to the door and peers out the peephole. A gasp bubbles out of his throat. "It's Mr. White," he whispers into the phone. "Would you—don't hang up, okay?"

"Sure."

Jesse drops his phone into the roomy pocket of his pajama pants; Saul can listen in to make sure nothing skeevy happens. Genius.

Jesse pulls the door open and decides to cut to the chase. "What do you want?"

"Can I come in?" Walt asks.

"You can, but you may not."

Walt looks surprised. "When did you get so pedantic? Christ, just let me in." He pushes his way inside the foyer.

"Yeah, no, make yourself at home," Jesse snaps. "Whatever. What's got your panties in a twist?"

Walt squints, like he thinks Jesse's been replaced by an identical twin with special, awesome powers of defiance. "My partner at the lab isn't working out."

"So what if he's not in shape?"

"He's not competent," Walt says with an angry sigh. "He doesn't know the recipe. Not like you do."

Jesse lifts an eyebrow. "I thought he was some sort of chemistry genius, like, with degrees."

"Your meth's as good as mine, Jesse. His is...sub-par."

Jesse folds his arms over his chest and stares Walt down. "How come whenever you say somethin' nice to me you always got some bullshit agenda behind it? 'Come cook for me, Jesse. Your meth is totally super-awesome.' Can you just stop workin' me for once?"

"I'm not 'working you'," Walt says, like he's offended by the mere accusation. "I need you."

Jesse doesn't listen. "How does a chemistry genius make sub-par meth? Wouldn't he know all the formulas and shit to make it even better?"

Walt looks a little stunned, like he didn't expect Jesse to catch that on his own. Of course he didn't. That's why he complimented Jesse's cook and threw out emotionally-charged hyperbole like "I need you."

"Just admit it, Mr. White. You miss me."

"Of course I miss you. I care about you, Jesse, despite your insistence that I don't."

Jesse rolls his eyes.

"What have you been doing since I last saw you?" Walt asks, and, wow, that's a loaded question.

Jesse figures there's no harm in being honest. "Drawing. I'm putting together a portfolio for art school. I got a couple places picked out already."

Walt lifts his eyebrows in a particularly skeptical way. "Art? Really? You mean those doodles you drew all over your assignments when you were supposed to be paying attention?"

"That was years ago, man. Let it go. Besides, I'm better now. It's called improvement—y'know, when you do something over and over you get better at it."

"And you think you can make a career out of this?" Walt asks, his voice loaded with contempt.

"Yeah, why not? There's all sorts of crappy artists out there makin' fat stacks. I got just as much skill as them."

Walt shrugs. "One-point five million dollars, Jesse. If you think you can make that much drawing comic books, be my guest. But the door's always open if you change your mind."

"I'm not in it for the money," Jesse bites back. "Jesus, cookin' with you sucked ass. Why would I wanna go back?"

"How do you intend to pay for your schooling? With drug money? You think that won't lead the DEA right to your door?"

Jesse knows Walt's not asking because he fears for Jesse's safety in prison. "Financial aid, yo."

"Won't pay for all of it," Walt finishes for him. "College is expensive."

"I can get a job. Whatever."

"Really? With no experience? In this economy?" Walt watches his face. "And even if you did manage to find a job, how would you balance out work and school? Your study ethic was lacking when you had no other obligations. I can't see you doing a better job of time management now."

"Whoa, Skipper, row that jealousy boat someplace else!" Jesse laughs to himself, because this is the most desperate he's ever seen Walt. It's like Walt knows Jesse won't cook with him, so he's just going balls-out to chip away at Jesse's self-esteem. "I got other shit goin' on. You're not part of my life anymore, Mr. White. Our partnership is over. Done. Finished. Kaput. It has ceased to be. How else can I spell this out for you so you get it?"

Walt's mouth is an angry line, but he must realize there's no point in pushing further, because he heads for the door. "Oh, Jesse, just one more thing," he says as he's standing in the doorway. "Most colleges require a letter of recommendation from someone qualified to speak about your past performance and potential for growth. Someone like, oh, I don't know, a high school counselor, an employer...a teacher."

Jesse sees where Walt's going with this. "Like you would even do it."

"I could be persuaded."

Jesse doesn't say anything, just swallows back the anger building in his throat.

"Think about it, Jesse," Walt says. "Oh, and the next time you see Saul, tell him I said hello."

Jesse feels a cold gust, then Walt's shutting the door behind him as he leaves. Jesse digs his phone out of his pocket. "What is that supposed to mean? How does he know? Did you tell him? Did I tell him?"

"He's just tryin' to rattle your cage. I wouldn't worry too much," Saul says. "The only way he could know is if he hired a PI to follow you, and, if he did, odds are he'd have to go through me first."

Jesse breathes a sigh of relief.

"Don't lose sleep over it; focus on school, alright? You know what they say: a good life is the best revenge."

Jesse's head is still spinning from Walt's visit. "Alright, yeah."

"C'mon, we're gonna be fine," Saul says.

He wants to believe that, but Jesse knows better than to think Walt's just going to leave this alone. "He's right, though. About the letter, I mean."

"You don't know anybody else that could write one for you?"

"Mr. White was, like, the only teacher who gave a shit. Even though he was a total dick about it."

"What about your NA meetings? You got a counselor that could write one up?"

Jesse scoffs. "Oh, yeah, 'cause colleges totally wanna let junkies in."

Saul sighs like he wants to argue with that. "Hell, I'll write one."

"Yeah, having a lawyer write me a letter of recommendation won't raise red flags at all."

"You're a sarcastic little shit in the morning, aren't you?"

"When I wake up alone, yeah."

Saul chuckles. "I suppose I walked right into that one." Jesse finds himself smiling. "Don't worry, kid. We'll figure something out."

#

Jesse lies awake in his bed, limbs splayed haphazardly across the mattress as he stares up at the ceiling. He hasn't been sleeping well the past couple of nights due to his own panicky paranoia over Walt's cryptic parting comment. The rational part of Jesse's brain tells him that if Walt knows about them, Jesse would know. There would be shouting and accusations and possibly violence. So maybe Walt has mere suspicions, in that case...what? Is Jesse just not allowed to have nice things because his ex-chemistry teacher/meth cooking partner is jealous? And, man, that sentence sounds fucking bizarre even in his own head.

He scowls to himself. This is a thousand different types of unfair. Of course Walt would throw a bitch-fit about Jesse's love life when touching of a sexual nature might happen at some point. He's pretty sure Saul would be up for that, because when he's got his hands on Jesse there's always a faint sense of restraint to it, like he's struggling to keep things chaste.

But Saul never gave any sort of hint to his interest in Jesse. It had taken Jesse's clumsy attempts at flirtation to open that door, so Jesse figures he'll have to take initiative again if he wants this to happen. But, Jesus, the thought of being in bed with Saul makes Jesse's stomach drop like he's plunged from the peak of a roller coaster. He's got zero hands-on experience with other men's bodies, and, yeah, okay, the basic principles are probably the same, but he's allowed to be nervous about it. He's had a considerable amount of sex, but never with another dick involved. And if Jesse works off of what he likes, Saul might just get up and leave the room.

So, yeah, that's a conversation they need to have at some point.

Jesse groans and shoves his face into the pillow.

#

Jesse shows up at Saul's office the next day around nightfall. It's pretty much empty, save for Francesca milling about the reception booth. "Hey, um, is Saul in?" He doesn't know why he's sheepish about asking at this point; if he had a dollar for every time he's been here he'd be insultingly rich.

Francesca looks up at him and smiles. "Oh, Jesse! Yeah, he was just about to leave. Date night?"

"Saul would probably say 'every night is date night.'"

"Wow. Well, I guess it makes sense. You're young." Her brow creases like she's remembered something. "You don't smoke in bed, do you? 'Cause he won't tell you, but he hates that."

"Then how do you know?"

"The perks of knowing him for what feels like an eternity," she deadpans before tilting her head a little. "I'm a little surprised, though, because Saul's always been somewhat of an ass man."

Jesse feels his face heat up. "Uh..."

She shrugs. "But, hey, maybe it's different with guys. Also, he hates when people say 'supposably' instead of 'supposedly.' I know that one isn't about sex, but I thought I'd share it anyway."

"I'm learning a lot today," he says. He's also kind of self-conscious of his ass now. Is it big enough? Shapely enough? He never worried about shit like this before, but, to be fair, he'd rather worry about the attractiveness of his ass than get the shit kicked out of him in a drug deal gone wrong.

Saul's door swings open, and he pokes his head out. "Francesca, are you bothering Jesse? Because if he stops showing up I'm blaming you entirely. Jesse, get in here." His gaze darts to Francesca. "Good night, Sugar Tits."

Francesca sighs as she stands up to leave. "I really hope you don't call him that."

Saul gives that a moment of thought, then: "Sugar Dick."

Jesse covers his face with his hands and prays for the earth to swallow him.

"You're a piece of shit," Francesca says sweetly before shutting the door behind her.

"Love you too, Frannie." Saul looks at Jesse, who's trying his hardest to be invisible right now. "Ah, we have fun."

"Fun? I think she hates you, dude."

Saul leads Jesse inside his personal office. "She's just jealous she's not dipping her toes in Lake Saul anymore."

Jesse makes a face. "That's a really weird metaphor—Wait, you guys used to date?"

"Yeah, except for the parts where you go out and do things together."

"So...just sex?"

Saul spreads his hands. "We rode that wave of antagonism too long; all the sexual tension had to go somewhere." He leans against the front of his desk. Mr. Casual. "So, what's up?"

Jesse rubs the back of his neck. "Well, uh, I sorta wanted to talk to you about somethin'," he says, his voice oddly cautious.

"I'm a great listener. Talk away." Saul hopes this isn't about Walt. Walter White is the awkward third wheel in their relationship, lingering like the ghost of an old lover.

Jesse glances around the room, as if he hadn't expected Saul to agree and he's trying to find the right words for what he wants to say. "Okay, well, I was just wondering maybe we could, y'know, do something sometime. Like, I know you said you didn't wanna push, but"—he swallows, licks his lips—"maybe I want you to. I wanna be pushed." Jesse's face is the cutest shade of red.

Saul drags in a breath, because when he thinks about pushing Jesse it's usually onto the mattress or over his desk. "Wow, okay, let's—let's start over. You're asking for sex, right? 'Cause I feel like that's what this is."

Jesse blushes harder, which Saul didn't even think was possible. "What we have right now is cool," he stammers out. "I just—I just thought if you wanted to you should know you have, like, total permission to have your nasty, porno way with me."

Saul rubs his hand over his face. "Ah, goddammit, I'm having the dream again, aren't I? Y'know, the one where you show up here after hours to seduce me and we just go for it right here on the desk, like, three times—" Saul freezes, his mouth agape. "Okay, so it's not the dream. This is actually happening."

"We don't have to do everything," Jesse murmurs, toying with the frayed cuffs of his jacket. "But we could do something, if—if you want."

Saul admires that Jesse's trying to shift his comfort zone for him. But he doesn't want their first foray into sexual touching to feel like some sort of obligation Jesse has to him. "Wh—what, right now?"

"No, just, y'know, at some point in the future, like next time we're at your place or somethin'." Jesse stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks away. He so came here for sex, and that shouldn't make arousal curl in Saul's gut the way it does.

"Did you want to go?" Saul hopes he's not sounding too eager here, but he's just trying to figure out Jesse's intentions.

"Nah, I can chill here for a bit. No rush." Jesse moves closer and steals a quick kiss. Just as he's pulling away, Saul drags him back in and kisses him harder, because he needs Jesse to know he wants just as much as Jesse does.

Jesse's smiling when he breaks away, hands snaked around Saul's waist. "So, um, there was somethin' else I wanted to ask you..."

"What's that?"

"Well, it's more of a favor, I guess." He must find Saul's tie interesting, because he's staring at it like it might come to life and say something profound.

Saul tips Jesse's chin up so he'll look at him. "Go on."

Jesse wets his lips. "Uh, would you ever wanna, y'know"—he shrugs—"crash at my place? Maybe—maybe tonight? I could bring you here in the morning or whenever you decide to bounce. My car's out front."

"You wanna take me home with you?" Saul asks, his mouth pulling into a smirk.

Jesse's eyes widen, like Saul's read something in his words that he didn't intend. "We don't have to do anything. This isn't about sex. It's just"—he rakes a hand through his hair—"I'm sick of Mr. White taking from me. He shouldn't be able to just, like, exist and somehow put all these bullshit restrictions on what we can do, y'know?"

Saul gives that some consideration. One of his favorite things about Jesse is that he's smarter than he seems, than he gives himself credit for. "That's your favor? Coming home with you?" Jesse nods. "Jesus, kid, I thought you were gonna ask me for a kidney. This is—I can do this."

Jesse grins, and his whole face lights up, but the dark circles under his eyes remain.

"Have you been sleeping?" Saul asks.

Jesse's expression crumbles into something sad, and Saul mentally kicks himself for ruining the cute little smile he had going on moments ago. "Not—not a lot. Whatever, it's not a big deal."

It absolutely is a big deal, because if something's keeping Jesse awake Saul wants to know about it. "Does this have anything to do with you staying clean?"

Jesse shakes his head. "I'm fine."

Saul didn't earn this level of intimacy with Jesse by pushing into his personal life. If Jesse wants Saul to know, he'll tell him.

He pulls open one of his desk drawers and rifles through his collection of cell phones. Some are the cheap, disposable kind you can pick up at a gas station, others are more modern and pricey. He hands Jesse a recently-acquired iPhone. "Here. I think we should have a private line, just in case Walt's got a tap on yours."

Jesse seems pleased until he turns the phone over and sees the jeweled case. "Hello Kitty?"

Saul rolls his eyes. "It came with the phone—and, dude, it's free. Don't complain. All the location services are disabled so he can't triangulate your position. Just make sure to keep it on you at all times. I can't help you if he gets his hands on it."

Jesse nods and pockets the phone. "You—you think he's straight-up stalking me now?"

"In the words of Luke Skywalker, 'I have a very bad feeling about this.'"

"Did he say something to you?"

Saul shakes his head. "I'm just being cautious. Hey, sometimes it pays to be paranoid, right?"

Jesse half-smiles. "Right."