Jesse's first off day of the week rolls around, and Saul's not going to let him remodel the house to stem the painful memories. So he enlists the help of Buck and Billy Ray to keep Jesse occupied and entertained while Saul's at work—entirely unbeknownst to Jesse, of course, because Saul's big on surprises.

Jesse's in the middle of getting dressed for the day when he hears a knock from downstairs. He stumbles over his jeans, grabs a random shirt from the closet and pulls it over his head as he descends the stairs. Buck and Billy Ray are standing at the door.

"Yo." Jesse tries to look past them to see if their house is currently on fire, because he can't think of another reason why they'd be here. "Somethin' wrong?"

They get a kick out of that. "Naw, just thought you might wanna go into town today, have some fun," Billy Ray says.

Jesse rubs the back of his neck. "Actually, I, uh, I was gonna do that. There's a list of stuff to get at the store..." He shrugs into silence.

"Need some company?"

No one hangs out with Jesse because they want to. His brain forms the thought, "bullshit" with such immediate fierceness that saying it aloud might draw blood. "Did Saul put you guys up to this?"

"No! 'Course not!" Buck and Billy Ray are really bad liars.

"Did he seriously tell you to hang out with me?" Jesse asks, folding his arms over his chest.

Billy Ray shakes his head. "All he said was you were free today. We thought we'd take you into town if you haven't already been." He glances behind him at the barren driveway. "On account of you not havin' a car and all."

Jesse's absolutely certain Saul asked them to hang out with him today; he just can't prove it. But there is a slight possibility Jesse mentioned something about going to the store this morning and Saul made arrangements for him. Besides, a little company might be nice.

Jesse sighs and heads for the stairs. "Fine, lemme get my shoes."

The inside of Buck and Billy Ray's truck smells like old tobacco, leather, and peppermint, with a hint of wet dog. Jesse sits in the back seat and draws his knees up to prevent his legs from being squished by the passenger seat. He feels like he's sitting at one of those plastic picnic tables for children. Faint music drifts out of the speakers, one of which is right behind Jesse. He watches the scenery roll by out the window: gold and scarlet-tipped trees, telephone poles, and tall, brick buildings.

While Bad Company sings of crazy circles, Buck asks Jesse, "So, you do all the chores around the house or just the shopping?"

Goddammit, Saul. "I like feelin' useful."

Buck doesn't call him on his non-answer. "Hard to go to the store without a car."

"I'm workin' on one at the shop. Duane said he'll give it to me if I can get it running."

"Oh yeah? What is she?"

It takes Jesse a moment to realize Billy Ray's talking about the car. "Uh, it's a Nissan 300ZX. '85, I think. It's blue, but I might paint it red and put flames on the side. It's gonna be dope."

Billy Ray laughs. "Duane's been tryin' to get Ol' Blue runnin' for weeks!" A flicker of pain licks at the edges of Jesse's consciousness. "Best of luck, kid."

"I was gonna head down there tonight after they close." The auto shop isn't too far from Saul's house, and Jesse doesn't mind the walk. He likes looking at the trees and buildings along the way; the architecture and aesthetic here is vastly different from Albuquerque's.

"Be careful," Buck warns. "Just 'cause this ain't Phoenix don't mean it's all sunshine and roses."

"What, is there a ghost or somethin' that comes out at night?" Jesse asks with a wry chuckle.

"You don't gotta worry about imaginary monsters," Buck says. "The human ones are bad enough."

Jesse feels the truth of those words in his weary soul.

He's a little disappointed when they roll into a Wal-Mart parking lot a couple minutes later. He expected some sort of hidden local treasure of a market, something to make him feel like he's on a whole new plane of existence from Albuquerque. But apparently some things remain the same.

It could be worse, Jesse supposes, so he doesn't mind too much.

As he loads up the cart, Jesse realizes why he likes these mundane activities. It's more than just a way to keep himself busy and drown the memories threatening to resurface. He hasn't been to a grocery store in six months. He hasn't had a legitimate job in ages. It's been years since Jesse Pinkman has lived an ordinary, average existence. He's been stuck in a loop of agony and crystal meth for much too long. Living a normal, apple-pie life is like a breath of oxygen to decayed, malnourished lungs.

So, yeah, maybe he does enjoy tasks like grocery shopping and cleaning the house and doing laundry. Saul can tease him about being a housewife all he wants; after living through hell, domesticity is the bomb, yo.

He doesn't have a lot of freedom to stray from the list due to his limited funds, so they're finished shopping in under an hour. Jesse's still not sure why they insist on keeping him company while he unloads the groceries though.

"Got the place fixed up real nice," Buck says, looking around the living room.

Jesse doesn't think that's as much of a compliment as it sounds. "Thanks..."

"How long you stayin' here?"

"'Til I can get my own place, I guess. Saul hasn't tried to rush me out or nothin'."

"He ain't gonna complain 'long as he gets a home-cooked meal," Billy Ray says, and Jesse can't help but feel like they're picking on him for being a homemaker. "He'll probably never ask you to leave."

"'Cause I got it smellin' spring fresh in here, yo."

"Used to be a guy had to get married for that."

Jesse's face flushes at the implication. He turns away to shove some groceries into the fridge and hide his traitorous complexion. The last thing he needs is for anyone to know about his crush on Saul.

"How're you two gettin' along anyway?" Billy Ray asks.

Jesse fumbles for an answer that doesn't sound too gushing. "Oh, uh, great. Yeah, Saul's awesome. Always has been."

"That why you came to him?"

"Well, that, and I kinda didn't have anybody else. But I'm glad I found him again. He's hella chill, y'know?"

Buck and Billy Ray exchange glances, and, oh fuck, did Jesse just out himself? That's totally something he would do. Is he really that obvious?

"The chillest. You could store a side of meat in him for a month," Buck says.

Jesse feels his cheeks heat up. There's no way to interpret that comment in a way that's not dirty. "Word."

Are they trying to hint that Saul's into dudes? Is that what's happening here? Jesse is so lost right now.

"We best leave ya alone. You probably got chores to do, don't ya?" Billy Ray says.

"Yeah, tons."

They move for the door. "Good seein' you again, Aaron. Don't be a stranger now."

"You too."

Jesse breathes out a sigh when the front door closes behind them. Fuck, they totally know about his embarrassing gay crush on his roommate.

Having friends was nice while it lasted.

Jesse doesn't come downstairs the next morning for breakfast, and Saul doesn't wake him up. There wasn't any screaming last night, but he could have sworn he heard faint sniffling when he listened outside Jesse's door. Saul has no idea why he didn't just open the door and go inside. Part of him figured if Jesse wasn't screaming he had it under control. And another part of him didn't want to seem too eager to climb into bed beside Jesse, like he's only offering comfort for what he can get out of it.

This stupid crush is making him second-guess everything.

Jesse comes trudging down the stairs around two in the afternoon, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "'Sup," he says, moving for the fridge.

"Not a lot, kiddo." Saul turns his head so he can watch Jesse stare at the contents of the fridge. "You get any sleep?"

Jesse makes a noise that says nothing and everything all at once. "You didn't save me any breakfast?"

"I figured we could do lunch and we'd be even. You up for it?"

Jesse gives him a puzzled look. "Yeah. 'S'fine."

He doesn't sound too enthusiastic, but Saul chalks that up to morning dreariness. "Just let me know when you're hungry."

"Well, I'm lookin' in the fridge. That should be a pretty big hint."

"Someone's wearing his snarky pants this morning," Saul quips. He can practically feel Jesse rolling his eyes at him. "Alright, get dressed and we'll go get delicious pizza."

Jesse shuts the fridge door and climbs the staircase. How much of a better mood would Jesse be in if Saul had just gone into that room last night? Stupid, stupid.

Jesse comes downstairs ten minutes later wearing a black leather jacket that probably belongs in Michael Jackson's closet, grungy, dark-wash jeans, and a pretty well-fitted t-shirt. It takes all Saul has to keep his tongue in the vicinity of his mouth. "You look like you belong on the cover of Badass Monthly," Saul teases, but when he tries to swallow he finds his throat's gone dry. Because, yeah, he made a joke, but he still complimented the guy he likes, and his clown mask cracked under the weight of it.

Jesse just smirks and shoves his hands in his jean pockets. "And you look like someone's dad. When was the last time The Who even released an album?"

Saul's first instinct tells him to be insulted by that "someone's dad" comment—he's not that old—but maybe he can work with a dad vibe. Jesse seems like he's got a thing for older guys anyway—Walt, Mike—and, wow, he can't believe he actually thought that. The evidence is pretty overwhelming though, so Saul's just going to go with it. He zips up his sweatshirt to hide the offending t-shirt. "Don't be a smartass."

"I didn't even know you owned a hoodie."

"You think I should change? I mean, are you gonna be embarrassed to be seen in public with me?"

"Probably, but, whatever, you look fine." Jesse glances away, mouth twitching at the corner in a way that looks conflicted, uncomfortable. He turns and heads for the door. "Now let's go before I change my mind."

The pizza joint is nestled in a quaint little area of town with an old-world feel to it. It's not run down or dilapidated, but the buildings seem like they've been there for at least fifty years. There's a certain charm to the square, and Jesse watches through the window as people walk by and birds flutter to the ground to grab stray crumbs or insects in their beaks.

Saul's voice breaks him from his private reverie. "This place says their pizza's the best, and as someone with taste buds I'm inclined to agree." The pizza's cooling off in the middle of the table, steam rising from the pie like early-morning mist over a lake.

"What, the best pizza in Omaha?"

"They're not very specific about that, so I'm assuming they mean the actual, literal best in the US, possibly the world. Which, y'know what, I'm not gonna argue with that. When the sauce cools down to not-lava temperature, you'll find out why."

"'Cause when I think awesome pizza, I totally think Omaha. Not New York or Chicago or Sicily. Fuck them."

"I've never had pizza there, so yeah." Saul resists the urge to stick his tongue out, because he's a mature adult.

"Well, I have," Jesse says with an uncalled-for amount of smugness in his voice. He edges off a piece of the pie. Tendrils of cheese stretch out as he moves it onto his plate. "Before Jake was born, my folks and I went to New York for Thanksgiving to visit some of my dad's relatives. School was out, so we ended up staying about a week. It was pretty dope. I got to see all the cool shit they show on TV—Central Park, the Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building..." A smile curls at the corner of his mouth. "My mom was real crazy about Law & Order back then, so for her it was, like, a tour of all the crime scenes. Day after Thanksgiving all the stores were hella crowded 'cause of Black Friday, so instead of going out we just ordered pizza and stayed inside. That was the best pizza I ever had. This one has a lot to live up to." Jesse pokes at the challenger slice with his knife before cutting it into smaller pieces.

He stuffs a bite into his mouth, and the look on his face is that of pure bliss. "Shit, this is awesome," he mumbles.

Saul smirks at his satisfaction. "I told you."

Jesse keeps chewing. "This is really awesome." He shoves another piece into his mouth before he's fully done with the first one. "God exists, and He's right here in my mouth."

Saul tries his hardest not to laugh at that. He doesn't do very well, but he tried, and that's what matters. "I'm gonna guess you weren't intending for that to sound dirty."

"Whatever, man," Jesse says with his mouth full. "Your dirty jokes are powerless in Pizza Heaven." Almost as soon as he swallows, he takes another bite. "I can't believe you've never been to New York."

"In my defense, I've been to Chicago, but I never had any pizza there."

"Then why even go?"

"Well, my second wife's family lived there, so I thought it was appropriate." Saul doesn't talk much about his past, which makes sense when you're starting a new life, but he figures since Jesse offered something to the table, he ought to do the same. The give-and-take might help him learn more about Jesse. "It was right after we announced our engagement. Her parents invited us up, so we spent a day and a half at her folks' place. Would'a been rude to duck out for pizza when they insisted on cooking for us."

Jesse tilts his head. "How many ex-wives do you even have?"

"Enough to realize I'm the problem." Another joke that cracks the mask.

"Whatever, dude. You're awesome."

"Well, thanks, Jesse, but just a minute ago you called the pizza awesome, so I'm not sure if that's as much of a compliment as it sounds."

"Things can be awesome in different ways. Like, you're awesome 'cause you let me stay with you, which means you're nice, y'know? You make me laugh, so you've got a wicked sense of humor. You're kind of a nerd, which I dig 'cause I'm a nerd about shit too." He snags another slice from the pie. "You should take some of this before it's all gone, yo."

Saul's done nothing but hang on Jesse's every fucking word since they got here. God, he's in deep.

"And, y'know, you help me sleep. I don't know anybody who would do that for me," Jesse continues, his voice low and his cheeks pinked. "'Cept maybe Mike, but he ain't here..."

"My pleasure, kid. Don't worry about it. I aim to serve." Saul stares at his hands. "I know you came here for Brock, but, I dunno, I'm a believer in everything happening for a reason. And, well, if you had gotten what you wanted, you wouldn't be able to break down and grieve over what happened to you. You'd be a caretaker, stuffing it all into some internal suitcase for the sake of the kid."

Jesse watches him like his words are meaningful somehow.

"So maybe this whole arrangement was a blessing in disguise, I guess. Even though it may not seem like it."

Jesse's gaze seems to pierce through Saul's soul, and Saul has to look away, too ashamed over what Jesse might find there. "I don't know where I'd be without you, dude. I didn't come here with a plan B. If I couldn't take care of Brock, I just figured I'd...check out." Jesse shrugs like it's nothing, like he's talking about "checking out" of a hotel instead of this mortal coil.

Saul's stomach plunges. Jesse can't be serious, but his blue eyes are brooding with no traces of humor. Christ.

"But you let me crash at your place, so I thought I'd give you a chance." The corner of his mouth turns up into a smile. "I'm glad I did."

Saul wets his mouth, still reeling from Jesse's earlier revelation. "You don't—you don't still think about it, do you?"

"Sometimes, yeah," Jesse admits in a low voice. "I mean, the things we've lived through...you don't come back from that, not really. You'll never be like anybody else 'cause you're not, y'know?"

Saul knows, and he wonders what Jesse must have endured to warrant such a bleak outlook. But he's thankful for his ignorance. That knowledge would change him irrevocably, and not for the better.

Jesse takes another bite. "Seriously, dude. I'm gonna eat this whole thing if you don't take some."

"You really think you could do that?" Jesse's only managed to finish off two slices, and each slice is ridiculously thick. There's no way he could eat the entire pie.

"Totally. I'm starved," Jesse says with his mouth full. He swigs down a gulp of root beer and grabs another slice.

Saul's not going to test that kind of conviction.

It finally hits Saul as he's walking Jesse to the door of their shared little home: this was totally a date, because from the outside that's exactly what it looks like. Saul can only hope Jesse's having the same realization. He seems to be staring at Saul like he's waiting for something. Oh God. This is it. This is the moment he's been waiting for. This is—

"This is the part where you open the door," Jesse reminds him.

Fuck. Saul digs through his pockets for the keys. He hasn't had a first date in ages; he's so rusty it's not even funny. "Oh, right, of course. There's an inside. Thank you for reminding me."

Jesse laughs, and the sound is a thing of wonder. Being on the receiving end of that smile is intoxicating; Saul wants that smile all to himself, wants to be the one who makes it appear.

If Saul were a braver man, he would cover Jesse's mouth with his own and kiss the breath from his lungs. He would reach out and get his fingers around Jesse's jacket and pull him closer until he can taste the individual sugars and proteins and irons that make up his beautiful body. He would sink to his knees and suck Jesse's cock right here on their front porch.

But Saul is not that braver man, so he just finishes unlocking the door and lets Jesse inside. Moment over. Opportunity wasted.

Jesse spends his breaks at work tinkering around with the Nissan, and when the shop slows to a crawl on Tuesday evening he's out in the yard working underneath the car. The sun's started to set, dipping below the horizon and coloring the sky in soft orange and pink hues. Insects hum and chitter in the distant trees. Jesse switches on the flashlight and sets it on the ground beside him, pointing the beam of light at the undercarriage of the car. He hears the distant thunk of a can dropping out of the vending machine. Then another. Then footsteps across the dirt.

He still jumps when someone taps his shoe with their foot. "Thirsty?"

When he rolls out from beneath the car, he sees Maggie standing against the gauzy clouds, holding two soda cans. "The machine gave me an extra. Thought you might need it."

Jesse smiles and accepts, because it's not often someone does something nice for him. "Thanks." His parched throat appreciates the hydration.

Maggie leans against the side of the car. "So were you some kind of science geek back in Alaska?"

She must be referring to the battery thing that got him hired. "Not really. I had a friend who was, though. Back in high school we used to do all sorts of projects." His voice twists off at the end into something sad, and Maggie must hear it because she doesn't poke at the topic.

She snaps open her soda can and takes a sip. "Then what were you into?"

"Drawing, video games, music..." His list of hobbies is shamefully short without the illegal activities he once enjoyed. "Dirt-biking, go-karts..."

"You like movies?"

"Yeah, who doesn't?"

"Well, maybe we could see one sometime," she says, lifting an eyebrow in a meaningful way.

"Sure, that'd be dope."

"Just let me know when you're available." She walks away before Jesse can really register what happened. It hits him moments later. Holy shit, she just asked him out.

Jesse's no stranger to his appearance; oftentimes he finds himself staring into the mirror, wishing for a way to hide the damage on his face. He hasn't loathed his own reflection since the days of awkward adolescence. How he wishes acne or braces were his biggest problems now.

But Maggie doesn't seem to mind how he looks. She must find him attractive enough; why else would she ask him out? This is the strangest thing that's happened to him since he moved to Nebraska; he's not sure how to proceed.

Because it's not like there's anything wrong with Maggie. She's cute, smart, and funny—in a way that makes his heart ache—but he's just not attracted to her. Which isn't too big of a roadblock, because given enough time that could change. It wouldn't be the first time he grew to be attracted to someone through their personality instead of their looks.

The more pressing dilemma is his questionable track record with relationships. Jesse fell in love three times, and each one died tragically and violently. He's terrified to try again.

His thoughts beat around in his brain during the trek home. An outsider's viewpoint on the issue might be helpful. Good thing Saul's awake with nothing better to do than have a discussion about feelings.

"Can I ask you something?" Jesse says after a shower while Saul's lounging on the couch.

Saul switches off the TV and shifts so he's facing Jesse. "Sure, kid. What's up?" When he listens—really listens—Saul looks at Jesse like he's all that exists in the universe. It's heady and overwhelming and impossible to get used to.

Jesse drops into the space beside him, drawing his knees up to his chest. "Well, it's kinda..." He stops, starts over. "I'm thinkin' about goin' on a date, but I don't have the best luck with relationships."

"Hey, the only people I ever made happy in my marriages were divorce lawyers."

Jesse gives him a pointed look. "At least your exes are alive."

"Oh, that's—that's where you were going with that." Saul winces. "Jesse, you're not some sort of bad luck charm. You're out of that world. There's no such thing as a kiss of death—except maybe in mafia movies."

Jesse manages a hint of a smile.

"But you have a new life now," Saul continues. "What happened to Jane and Andrea...that's not gonna happen again. You're safe, Jesse." He holds Jesse's gaze for the length of one heartbeat before glancing away; Jesse's pulse trips under the stare. "If you really like this girl, you should ask her out."

"She asked me out."

"Well, great, you got your work cut out for you. Is she hot?"

Jesse rolls his eyes, because of course Saul would ask that. But the words feel like broken glass under Jesse's skin, reminding him of how superficial Saul is: hot women, fat stacks, expensive suits... Saul could never see him the way Jesse wishes he would. Isn't that why he glances away when he looks at Jesse, repulsed by the scars there? "Yeah, I guess," Jesse mutters.

"You guess?"

"I mean, she's pretty, but I don't—I dunno," he says with a shrug. "She's interested, so why not, y'know? It feels good to do normal stuff, so maybe this'll be good too."

"Yeah, go for it. Go out and have fun. You're still young."

"Could you sound more like an old man?"

"Maybe if I started talking about 'kids these days and their rap music.'" He gives Jesse a cheeky smile, and for the briefest moment Jesse wishes he were going on a date with Saul instead of Maggie.