Work Text:
The hot water stings. He tries not to look at the flakes of dead skin drifting beside his folded-up knees. His body doesn’t believe it yet, that he’s out, he’s home.
Gentle hands move over his back, and he flinches. “I’m sorry.” Kim’s voice is barely a whisper, floating against his cheek, and he shuts his eyes. It hadn’t been on purpose; he doesn’t want her to think she’s hurting him. Not after what he’s put her through over the last day and a half.
(He still can’t think about the look on her face when she’d opened the door, the way her hands had trembled at her sides. He’d reached for her, and the next thing he knew they were on the couch, her chest heaving under his forehead. It had been so easy to close his eyes and burrow into her, take deep breaths of her laundry soap and lavender shampoo. Familiar, grounding. Home.)
Finally, he lifts himself from the tub, and Kim silently hands him a towel. Soft, like almost everything else in her apartment. He knows it’s still going to rasp over his skin like sandpaper. “Sorry,” she says again, biting her lip. He shakes his head, lets her pat him dry carefully. He feels bad, like he should be pulling his own weight here, but it’s so nice after everything to let himself be taken care of like this.
Once he’s in his softest sweatpants and a loose, worn-out American Samoa t-shirt, she leads him into the bedroom and sits down against the headboard, motioning for him to join her. He does, positioning himself to avoid putting pressure on his shoulders, and she lets him rest his head on her lap, settling a hand in his hair. She doesn’t move, just holds him and breathes, and he lets himself relax into the familiarity of it.
“You said it was going to be fine,” she says after what feels like an eternity, voice soft and fractured. “Jimmy, I… I was so worried.”
“It went sideways, that's all,” he says into the fabric of her sweatpants. “It was fine, promise.”
She inhales sharply, and he can tell she’s not saying what she wants to. He’s grateful; even though he knows he deserves to hear it, he doesn’t know if he can handle it just now. “I didn’t know where you were. If you had died out there, I wouldn’t have known what happened. You put yourself in danger.”
“Kim.” He puts a hand on her knee, relishing in the contact. He could stay wrapped up in her forever. “I didn’t think all that would happen.” A breath in, a breath out. “We can talk about it tomorrow, okay? I can’t… right now.”
“Okay.” Her fingers splay over the back of his neck. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
He falls asleep with his head in her lap, waking to the sunset through the bedroom window. Kim is reading over a sheaf of legal paperwork, brow furrowed in contemplation, and he takes a moment to admire the way the light slants over her cheekbones.
This had kept him going in the desert. He had to survive and make it home to her. She is all that matters.
“Hey,” she murmurs when she sees he’s awake. “How are you feeling?”
He hums noncommittally, burrowing further into her warmth. “Not bad.” It’s only half a lie; his body still hurts like hell, but having her here keeps the pain faded in the background where it belongs. “What are you working on?”
She sets the papers on the nightstand as he eases himself into a sitting position. “Just some PD stuff. Nothing major. Do you want something to eat? I think we’ve got cereal somewhere.”
He should eat, but the thought is nauseating. “Maybe later.”
Kim sighs. “At least have some more Gatorade?”
He can’t deny her that, so he accepts the light green bottle she brings back from the kitchen. It hurts a little going down, but there’s a kind of relief in it, a balm on his raw throat. “I’m okay,” he says, because she still looks so worried and it cuts through him.
“I know,” she whispers, and there’s a waver in it.
They go to bed properly soon after. She keeps her distance, careful of his burns, but the last thing he remembers before drifting off is her hand curled around his, grounding him to reality.
In the morning, they take it slow. Kim calls in sick to work, which Jimmy hates – she shouldn’t have to put things on pause to take care of him when it’s completely his fault – and they curl up on the couch and watch movies. Aside from a brief, painful stint at the courthouse – when a client calls, Saul Goodman answers, bruised feet be damned – they spend the day doing absolutely nothing.
Nothing, at least, until Lalo Salamanca turns up at their front door with charm-layered threats and Kim puts him in his place, voice firm despite the way her hand trembles. Outside, Jimmy knows there is a non-descript vehicle with an armed man in the front seat.
If he’d known his trek through the desert would have resulted in all this mess, he would have turned it down, to hell with the hundred thousand. Being a friend of the cartel was all well and good when it was only him in the line of fire. Now, he’s gotten Kim dragged into it, put her in immediate danger.
She was never supposed to get involved in any of this.
“We have to leave,” he says once the door clicks behind Lalo and he’s hung up on Mike, once he's explained himself. “Just for a few days until everything settles. Please.”
Kim doesn’t argue, hardly even says anything beyond a quiet okay. She’s more shaken than she’ll let on, he can tell, but they can’t waste even a second on quiet comforts. Not until they’re out of this apartment.
He calls ahead to some swanky hotel downtown, goes all out on the amenities. If they’re going to be in hiding for a few days, they may as well do it right, and they can afford it. “Better to be around more people,” he says when Kim questions it. If people are looking for them, they’ll be hitting the seedy, cheap motels before even thinking about the expensive places.
That night, he doesn’t sleep, some evil combination of sunburn and fear. Every scenario imaginable rushes through his mind, each one coiling into the next like snakes until he has to get out of bed to avoid waking Kim.
He has to keep her safe, no matter the cost.
After carefully rubbing aloe gel into his shoulders, he slips back under the covers. Kim stirs a little, curling closer to him in her sleep, and he traces a finger along the back of her hand, reverent.
This is on him now. He’s going to keep them safe, and take the fall if he can’t. It’s the only option.