When Saul wakes up, Jesse's still cuddled into him, his head against Saul's chest. The bristle of stubble prickles Saul's skin, but there's no way he's moving. The worried crease of Jesse's brow has vanished, and Saul's a little proud of himself for soothing it. Jesse looks at peace, as if he's right where he's always wanted to be.

A shame it all has to end today.

Jesse's tattooed arm is slung over Saul's body. Saul traces over the design with careful fingers. Hickies have bloomed on Jesse's shoulders and the curve of his throat; Saul remembers giving him each one.

Sunlight's flooding their room, and Saul wonders if they've overslept. He spies his phone on the night table, which is conveniently on the other side of the bed. But the digital display on the clock there reads 9:27 a.m. So they've got about an hour and a half before the hotel kicks them out.

Saul doesn't want to wake him up—Jesse looks so peaceful, and sleeping is one of life's greatest pleasures, right up there with sex and eating gluttonous amounts of food—but he knows he probably should. There's really no good way to wake someone up, but light kisses ought to be agreeable. Saul presses his mouth to Jesse's speckled shoulder, follows the line of his collarbone until he no longer can, then he's mouthing over Jesse's sandpaper jaw.

Jesse stirs and makes a sleepy noise in his throat. Saul spreads his hand over Jesse's back. "Rise and shine, Pinkman," he murmurs. Jesse pries his eyes open just to close them one second later. He grunts and tries again. This time, he keeps one eye open and the other shut, and the sweetest smile Saul's ever seen spreads on Jesse's mouth.

Saul imagines waking up to this every morning before forcing himself to shut that door completely.

"Mornin', Jimmy," Jesse says with a grin.

Saul sighs. "I told you not to call me that."

"I think it's cute."

"I'm too old to be cute."

"Nuh-huh," Jesse argues, closing his eyes again and dragging his hand over Saul's stomach. Saul's heart leaps and twists in his chest—Jesse thinks he's cute. "Besides, I thought you'd be stoked about sharin' a name with one of the dudes from Led Zeppelin."

Saul smiles and holds Jesse tighter. His hand traces lazy swirls over Jesse's back. He wants this every morning and every night, just to be with Jesse, to hold him and love him with every beat of his heart. He breathes out a sigh. "So, I was thinking we'd get breakfast somewhere after we check out."

Jesse makes a sound of agreement and presses his mouth to Saul's skin. "Can I—can I ask you somethin'?" he asks, tilting his head to look up at Saul.

"Of course."

Jesse spreads his fingers over Saul's chest, dangerously close to a nipple. He's doing his best not to look at Saul, and Saul wonders what that's about. "Does everything that happens in Vegas have to stay here? 'Cause this was good... and I want it to keep happening."

"You wanna stay friends with benefits?"

Jesse swallows. "Well, actually, I thought maybe we could be more than that. I mean, we could try dating, y'know? This whole thing with you—it's been really easy—for me, at least. And it's not like we haven't been goin' on dates this whole weekend." He risks a glance at Saul. "I think we could be really good together."

Saul tries to calm the panic rising in his chest. He can't freeze time and formulate the perfect "it's not you, it's me" speech. Jesse's highly sensitive with too many trust and rejection issues to ever believe the problem here doesn't lie with him. Saul has spent all weekend earning Jesse's trust and love, and now he has to break his heart.

Saul doesn't know how to do this, how to let Jesse down without hurting both of them. "Kid... I don't think that's a good idea."

Jesse gazes up at him with agonized eyes. "Why not?" He sits up, and Saul spots a red mark on his hip before Jesse tugs the sheets over his legs. "I thought we were, like, bonding and shit."

"I just—I don't see this lasting outside of the nice little bubble we've got here. Lots of feelings can flourish in this kind of... unrealistic venue. C'mon, you can't tell me you didn't walk away from that four-day cook with Walt feeling just a tad closer than you two were before."

Jesse chews the inside of his cheek, glancing away like he's ashamed of something. "Or you go crazy 'cause you're together all the time. We haven't been apart for, like"—he counts on his fingers—"sixty-four hours. You'd think I'd wanna strangle you at least once."

Saul struggles for the right words here. This is one of the most important negotiations he's ever been a part of, yet to win it, he has to lose.

"Are you seein' somebody else?" Jesse asks, wide-eyed and innocent. "Is that why you don't want..."

Saul shakes his head. "No, I just—Look, kid... I'm no good with relationships. Three divorces, remember?" He chuckles, the sound rough in his throat. "This isn't my area of expertise. I'm more of a one-night stand kind of guy. It's for the best if we just go back to the way things were."

Jesse's face scrunches up, and he looks away as tears squeeze from his eyes. Saul wants to reach over and wipe them away, but touching him will only make this harder. "So, what, you get a free trip, gambling, sex whenever you want it, and then you just drop me? Asshole." He wipes his face with a hand and kicks his way free of the sheets. He pulls on his boxers, and Saul hears him sniffle. The sound cracks his heart in two.

"No, no, no, kid, it's not like that—"

"Bullshit. You said it yourself—you haven't had a vacation in, like, forever, right? So, what, you thought you'd just use me for a couple days, spend my money, and I'd just forget about it?" Jesse's eyes are wet and red and pained; Saul yearns to hold him and shoulder some of that pain.

Saul gulps against the lump in his throat. "I never wanted you to feel used."

"Yeah, well, I do. So thanks for that." Jesse grabs his clothes off of the floor and storms out.

Saul wants to go to him, to hold him and tell him the kisses and touches they shared were the most honest things about Saul Goodman. But he doesn't know if Jesse will believe him.

He has to try something. Saul scrambles out of bed, sticks his legs through his boxers and goes after Jesse. He's had plenty of arguments in his underwear—he's pretty much desensitized to it by now. Jesse's in his bedroom, shoving clothes into his bag. "Jesse, Jesse, hold on, just—"

Jesse whirls to face him, his gaze full of fire and destruction and pain. "What, you wanna try to explain how I'm s'posed to not feel like garbage?"

Saul opens his mouth to try, closes it.

"I thought you were different," Jesse says in a tiny, heartbroken whimper. "When you gave me that gun to protect me from Mr. White, I thought"—he swallows thickly—"I thought you gave a shit. 'Cause it didn't make sense for you to do that if you were just tryin' to protect yourself."

If Jesse knew Saul had a hand in helping Walt poison Brock, he would abandon this ridiculous idea and cut himself out of Saul's life. Maybe that's why Saul can't get the words out of his mouth.

But if Jesse's going to hate Saul, he has to do it for the right reasons. Saul takes a breath and moves closer. "Look, Jesse, all that stuff I said about bein' bad at relationships? It's all true. But that doesn't stop me from wanting you more than I've ever wanted anything or anyone in my life."

Jesse's lips part around a shaky exhale. The despair in his eyes is replaced with hope, and Saul hates having put it there, knowing he's just going to destroy it in the same breath.

"No." Jesse shakes his head, like he's trying to shake away Saul's words. "Then why'd you say 'what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas' when we started this whole thing? Like you wanted it to be a one-night thing?"

"Because I was afraid," Saul admits. "I thought if you knew I was interested in more than just your ass, you'd freak out. I mean, c'mon, I ran out all my luck on gettin' you in bed with me"—he realizes that's a bad way to phrase it, but, whatever, it's out there—"I didn't wanna blow it all."

Jesse shakes his head again, a flurry of emotions written on his face.

"Do you really think I would'a gone out of my way to show you around and take you places if you were just some pump-and-dump chump?" He probably shouldn't be rhyming in a situation like this. "Kid, those were dates."

Tears spring anew from Jesse's eyes. He wipes them away with his tattooed hand. "So you like me, but you don't wanna date me anymore?"

"I want it more than anything, but I've got a piss-poor track record that says 'don't even try.'"

Jesse gives him the angry eyes again. "That's such a bullshit excuse! You wanna talk track records? My first real girlfriend? Dead. And I probably killed her." Saul hears the way the words fall apart in Jesse's throat. "My second girlfriend? Her brother killed one of my best friends, and she would'a never stayed with me if she knew who I really was. But if I could make it work with anybody, it'd be you."

Saul's heart drops into his stomach. "What? Why?"

"'Cause this whole weekend we got along great. The sex is awesome, we make each other happy, and it's like you said before: who knows more about Mr. White's operation than us? We never have to worry about scarin' the other person off 'cause we know all about that shit. There's no secrets."

"That's where you're wrong, Jesse... I do have a secret." Saul hoped it wouldn't come to this, but Jesse's not letting go. He has to tell him the truth. "And if you knew, you wouldn't want this anymore."

"Try me," Jesse says, with conviction. "There's nothin' you could tell me that would change my mind."

"I had Huell lift your ricin cigarette." Saul hasn't cried in years, but he thinks he might now. "Walt made me do it. He told me he was helping you, saving you. I never would'a agreed to it if I'd known what he was gonna do."

The hurt on Jesse's face is unfathomable; Saul feels like the entire world's fallen upon him.

It's almost over though, so he pushes through. "So now you know," Saul says. "Why it would never work. Why we can't be together." He can't think of a pithy quip to end this conversation on, so he just turns and heads back to his bedroom.

The pain is so heavy he thinks it might crush him, but it doesn't. It sits weighty on his heart while he packs his bags in solitude. Saul isn't sure if Jesse's absence hurts more than any bitter words or punches he could throw.

He's alone for five minutes before he hears the soft sound of Jesse's footsteps behind him. Saul braces himself, ready for whatever Jesse's suffering may unleash. Jesse moves closer and lays his hands on Saul's shoulders. Saul flinches minutely under the touch.

Jesse doesn't hurt him. Instead, he turns Saul around, as gently as he can, until they're face-to-face. Jesse's cheeks are damp, his eyes moist and glistening with tears. He doesn't look angry, but that doesn't extinguish the fear in Saul's gut. He's frozen, unwilling to move, breathe, or even blink under Jesse's hands, too terrified he'll turn this moment into something worse.

Jesse closes the distance between them and captures Saul's lips underneath his own. It's a soft, gentle press of mouth, and Saul's heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest. Why is Jesse kissing him? None of this makes sense. He shouldn't want this. Why does he still want this?

Jesse breaks away, just enough to murmur, "I told you nothin' would change my mind."

Saul involuntarily licks his lips and watches Jesse's face. He can't find words when Jesse's looking at him with eyes full of love and acceptance. "But... the cigarette. How can you—"

"It's not your fault. Mr. White made me do his dirty work too."

If Jesse's willing to forgive him for aiding in Brock's poisoning, he must want this as much as Saul does. Trying to push him away would be idiotic; Jesse's here to stay.

Saul settles his hands on either side of Jesse's face. "Oh, kid... I'm not even a fraction of what you deserve."

"I don't care. I want this. I want you."

Saul's an idiot if he doubts the conviction in Jesse's voice or the way Jesse moves in and claims his mouth again.

By noon they're on the road, beginning the long journey home. Saul still hasn't offered Jesse the chance to take the wheel, but he did agree to date him, so Jesse's not going to bust his balls about driving. He casually commandeers the radio, because it's his turn to pick the music. He ends up leaving it on whatever station Saul was listening to.

Jesse interrupts the comfortable silence in the car by saying, "So this weekend I was basically your sugar daddy."

Saul laughs, warm and honey-brown. "That's a really weird reversal. I'm not used to this. I have to even up the score. Next time we go out, I'm paying."

"Define 'go out.' 'Cause I don't want you finding some loophole and tryin' to even the score by buyin' me Slim Jims and a Slurpee at the next gas station."

"You could have me buy a whole box of Slim Jims if you wanted."

Jesse just stares at him. "You don't get it, do you?"

Saul blinks. "Obviously not."

"It's not about the money. When we get back to ABQ, I wanna go out with you like we did here. Y'know, goin' out to places and shit. Like a real couple." He rubs his arm, afraid of the enormity of his wants.

"That's just what I had in mind," Saul says, like he's not even bothered by it. "I'm gonna spoil you rotten, kid. It's been too long since I had somebody to buy overpriced chocolate for on Valentine's Day."

"You're supposed to buy it the day after when it goes on sale. I thought you were smart," Jesse teases.

Saul purses his lips. "Rarely have I dated anyone who would be okay with celebrating Valentine's the day after."

Jesse scoffs a disdainful noise at Saul's dating history. "You dated the wrong people, then."

"Thank you, Captain Hindsight."

"You said rarely. You mean you were with somebody almost as cool as me?"

Saul glances over at Jesse, as though sizing him up alongside this mystery lover. "Almost. In many ways you remind me of him." He chuckles, and there's history behind it.

Him? Jesse lifts his eyebrows. "I'm not the first dude you've dated?"

"I thought I told you as much."

"Sayin' somethin' isn't the gayest thing you've ever done doesn't mean you dated a dude. Just means you fucked a guy. Or let him fuck you." Jesse's brain hangs on that image. Christ, why does that turn him on? He wonders if Saul would let him, how he might sound with Jesse's dick inside of him.

"You are way too curious about my sex life," Saul says, light-hearted.

Jesse shrugs, feigning disinterest. "I wanna know what I'm up against."

"Trust me, kid, you don't have to compete with anybody." There's a fragment of a smile on Saul's lips that suggests something tragic. "I like you just the way you are."

"Are we having a Mr. Rogers moment?"

"Excuse you, it was a Billy Joel moment. 'Don't go changin' to try and please me, you've never let me down before—'"

Jesse reaches over and cranks up the radio, snickering to himself at Saul's bitchface that's soft around the edges, as if he knows Jesse only pretends to hate his singing.

Interstate 40 is a long, boring stretch of canyons and desert trails, so Saul pulls off to the side of the road and ravages Jesse in the back seat of the Cadillac. Jesse takes it all, legs wound around Saul's hips and hands clutching greedily at his back. Leather creaks in protest underneath them, and one of Jesse's dubstep playlists struggles through the speakers, though he can barely hear the sick beats over the way he's breathing greedy, shuddering breaths as Saul shoves into him.

"We should do this again," Jesse's saying as they're heading into New Mexico. "Y'know, go on vacation."

"Can't resist the siren song of ol' Vegas, huh?" Saul asks around a mouthful of potato chips he picked up at a gas station a few miles back.

"Well, actually, we don't have to go back to Vegas. How 'bout Miami or New Orleans or someplace totally different than just... desert? We could drive off into the horizon and have an adventure. See the world. Or maybe just the rest of the country first, whatever. I could do it myself, but it'd be better if you were there with me."

Saul gives him that lazy half-smile that always makes Jesse feel a little deconstructed. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind pokin' around the Mardi Gras city. I hear they've got amazing food."

Jesse snorts. "Of course you'd only go for the food."

"That's not my only motivation," Saul bemoans, like it should be obvious. "There's you, of course."

"I'm so glad I'm, like, second place to food."

"You're not second place. You're tied for first."

Jesse rolls his eyes, but there's no heat. "Oh, that's so much better," he says, and Saul laughs and drops his foot on the gas.

It's dark outside when the Cadillac rolls up to Jesse's house. They've gone so many miles and done so much over the last few days. Saul doesn't want it to end. He really wants to stay the night with Jesse and bond over pizza and Netflix. But, God, the last thing he wants is to look like he can't let go, that Jesse will suffocate if he holds on too long.

Jesse casts a quick glance at Saul, like he's trying to build a bridge between where he's sitting and the thoughts in Saul's head. "So, um, this was awesome," Jesse says, a nervous smile on his lips. "Thanks for goin' with me. I had fun."

"And plenty of grade-A orgasms," Saul says, because he still keeps on the clown mask.

Jesse does that adorable scrunchy-face thing. "You give yourself way too much credit." Saul knows it's a joke, and he loves that Jesse feels comfortable enough to tease him about that.

"Somebody has to."

"What, you want me to brag about it on Facebook? 'Boyfriend's dick game too strong.'"

No one's ever made Saul laugh like Jesse does. "Hashtag Vitamin D."

Jesse snickers, shakes his head like he realizes how ridiculous they are together. He sighs happily and sinks into his seat, and Saul guesses that Jesse might not want to leave this car either. Maybe he wants to keep driving, keep burning highway until they can burn away who they've been.

Saul doesn't have time to rehearse his words before they're just out there. "Hey, y'know, if you're not busy next weekend, we could go to dinner sometime." He shrugs. "Since you're my boyfriend and all."

Jesse grins. "Yeah, totally." He tosses a brief glance at his hands, then: "So, as my boyfriend, did you wanna come in?" He jerks a thumb to the house outside the passenger window, just in case Saul didn't know what he was referring to. "We could order pizza, watch a movie. If—if you want."

Saul shuts his eyes and concentrates. "Okay, what am I thinking about right now?"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"I thought you could read minds. I was testing you."

Jesse gives him a huff of laughter and a shake of his head. "You're so weird." He pops open the passenger door. "C'mon, let's get inside."

Saul doesn't have to be told twice.

They spend the evening on Jesse's couch and share a pizza. Saul makes Jesse watch the entire first season of Archer, which Jesse pretends to be annoyed about, but halfway into the second episode Saul can tell he's sold. At the end of the night, Jesse invites Saul upstairs, and it's far too easy to kiss him and slide into bed together, a braided tangle of sighs and skin. Jesse hooks his legs around Saul's hips and just takes, and Saul's more than happy to give until they're both spent.

In the quiet afterglow, Jesse explores the slope of Saul's back with his fingertips, as though trying to memorize his body. Saul watches Jesse's face, sated and blissful, his lips curved into a tiny smile as his fingers explore and press into skin. His touch leaves Saul feeling oddly raw, his flaws on full display.

But Jesse doesn't seem to see them. He cuddles closer, nuzzling his face into Saul's neck. Saul feels the bristle of his hair against his cheek. "If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?" Jesse asks, his voice soft.

"Probably somewhere with a beach. Florida, California, Hawaii. Just out of the desert, I guess."

Jesse chuckles. "Yeah? You don't like deserts either? How come? Too hot?"

"Bad memories."

"Sorry," Jesse murmurs, as if remembering his first encounter with Saul.

Saul laughs a soft sound, holds Jesse tighter in his arms. "That's not what I was thinking of, but thank you for reminding me." Jesse's hand presses almost feather-light over the small of Saul's back. "When you've been taken out to the desert by real gun-toting maniacs, the fake ones kinda lose their edge."

Jesse huffs amusement into Saul's throat. "Oh my—You too? That's such a weirdly specific thing to have in common."

"You?" Saul thought Jesse's dislike of the desert stemmed solely from his cooks with Walter. This is new.

"Yeah, me and Mr. White got kidnapped and held up in the desert by this psycho named Tuco, and Mr. White tried to slip—"

Something in Saul's brain just stops. "Wait, what?" He pulls back a bit, trying to find Jesse's face. "Did you say 'Tuco'?"

"Yeah."

Saul's not a big fan of concepts like "fate" or "destiny," but he's pretty sure this falls under the header of one of them, maybe "amazing fucking coincidence." He's laughing before he can get the words out, and Jesse's watching him with a look of concern for Saul's well-being.

Saul turns over onto his back, drags a hand over his face as the levity subsides enough for him to speak. "You're not gonna believe this, but, uh, I too met this Tuco character under a suspiciously similar set of circumstances."

Jesse's eyes are as wide as dinner plates. A hint of a smirk tugs at the edges of his open mouth. "No way. Dude, are you fucking with me?"

"Why would I—What could I possibly have to gain from lying about this?"

"How'd you escape?" Jesse asks. "The only reason me and Mr. White got out alive is 'cause there was two of us, and 'cause Mr. White's brother-in-law happened to show up and blast the fuck outta the dude."

Saul's not too keen on reliving the whole experience. "I negotiated my way out."

"Bullshit."

"Long story short, I had two clients—this was years ago, back when I was Jimmy McGill—who were supposed to pull off a scam. Apparently, they punked the wrong person, and the unfortunate victim ended up being Tuco's grandmother."

Jesse's grin of disbelief widens as Saul keeps talking.

"So all three of us end up bound and gagged in the desert, with Tuco and his crew pretty intent on, uh, silencing us. But I managed to negotiate our way out with, all things considered, minor repercussions."

Jesse laughs. "How's that even possible?"

"Because I'm the best lawyer ever," Saul jokes, curling an arm around Jesse.

Jesse sighs a happy sound and cuddles closer. He closes his eyes, his breath soft and warm against Saul's skin. Jesse lays a hand on Saul's chest and spreads his fingers like he wants to touch all of him at once.

"I feel like we're really good together," Jesse says quietly, as though the words might be harmful if spoken too loudly. "Y'know, I mean, you get what it's like being the black sheep of the family and never measuring up. You're pretty chill, we have the same sense of humor, and the whole Tuco thing is just..." He trails off and shrugs his shoulders. "I dunno, I'm glad we're here."

There's a whole conversation under the words that Saul hears loud and clear. He holds Jesse tighter and says, "Yeah, me too, kid." He falls asleep to the slow trace of fingertips on the skin of his waist.