“Some say, to survive it, you need to be as mad as a hatter.
Which, luckily, I am.”
They’re officially living together. Vegas finds himself in a state of stunned delight; he can’t believe he isn’t dreaming. It takes less than 12 hours, then Pete shows up with a pile of boxes and moves in. Just like that. And now that they’re living together, the apartment has turned into a real home, and Pete will no longer be leaving in the evenings to head to wherever he lives.
“Cancelled the lease,” he informs Vegas cheerfully. “Now you’re stuck with me.”
Pete is so damn happy he’s beaming the whole time, skipping around in the apartment, humming to himself. They unpack the boxes together and Vegas discovers yet another side of his boyfriend. No cheesy shirts. No, the clothes that Pete sorts into the cupboard are all expensive designer pieces, simple and elegant, not flashy at all.
“I hope you don’t expect me to be your sugar daddy,” Vegas remarks wryly, eyeing the pricy wardrobe with concern. “Just one of those pairs of pants would probably cost more than my monthly salary—I don’t think I can afford to keep you in style.” No wonder Pete was always so frustrated with Vegas’ simple t-shirts and jeans.
“Don’t expect me to wear my old clothes, Vegas. Those were just my ‘work’ outfits, for the role I was playing. Antagonising you with them was fun, but in all honesty I prefer to wear something a little more sophisticated.”
“I can’t wait to see you in a suit…” Vegas mumbles under his breath, knowing already that Pete will look stunning. “Are you by any chance rich? Heaven knows this household could use a bit more income, so we can buy some decent food more often. I’m tired of Ramen or take away four times per week.”
“I have a reasonable amount of money, yes. And no, don’t ask me where the money comes from, please.” Pete smiles at Vegas and winks. “How come you’re so short of money? Of the two of us, you should be the rich guy, no? Or did your dad take away your credit cards when you moved out?”
“I have some savings from my mother, but yeah, my father cut me off financially when I left the family against his will. It’s okay though, my income is enough for the basics. I don’t need anything extravagant.” Vegas hesitates, then asks the question that has been on his mind despite Pete’s objection. “That’s the real Pete’s money, right?”
“I told you not to ask, I don’t want to talk about it.” Pete’s happy smile turns into a frown.
It’s like a cloud moving before the sun. Vegas is cold all of a sudden, and barely suppresses a shudder. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Should have kept his mouth shut. “Nevermind,” he mutters hastily and starts to stack some of the empty boxes. There are so many questions he wants—needs—answers to, but it’s like crossing a minefield. One misstep, and he’s going to ruin this newfound happiness. Fuck.
They’ve retrieved from storage all the plastic bags with Pete’s belongings that Vegas almost threw away, and are unpacking those too.
“Would you like me to throw away these old shirts then, Pete? If you don’t mind I would like to keep one or two, for sentimental reasons.” There are too many memories intertwined with these hideous shirts, Vegas is very reluctant to dispose of them.
“Suit yourself.” Pete shrugs.
He really doesn’t seem to care. It’s almost as if he’s an entirely new person; his whole body language has changed, and Vegas is equally fascinated and unnerved by all the subtle differences. Pete moves differently. He seems more aware of his body, more confident, every movement is fluid and perfectly controlled. It brings to mind martial artists, or some lethal big cat. And take the shirts for example, they were such an integral part of Pete’s psychologist persona, much beloved and hated by Vegas, and now he finds out that they were just part of a role Pete played. It’s baffling, and Vegas can’t help experiencing a slight sense of betrayal with each new discovery. He thought he knew Pete so well…
In just under an hour everything is back in place, the apartment is once again frighteningly colourful and Vegas is stupidly happy that he’s getting irritated while arguing with Pete about the possibility of curtains once again. Life is back to being normal, and he loves it.
“How did you even sneak back into the country?” he asks later that day during dinner. They’ve treated themselves to some fancy take-away food. “I put a travel warning on you, in addition to an early warning system. How on earth did you circumvent that?”
Pete laughs, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know I was aware of the people keeping an eye on me, right? Well, imagine my surprise when one day one of them approached me and gruffly handed me a note. Want to take a guess at who wrote that note?”
Vegas takes another bite of his steak, chews thoughtfully and swallows. “Porsche. It must have been Porsche, that idiot. Sticking his nose into other peoples business is what he does best.”
“Hate to disappoint you, Vegas, but it wasn’t Porsche. The note was in fact from your brother.” Pete grins.
Vegas nearly chokes on his food. Fuck! No way! Damn, he still doesn’t want Pete anywhere near Macau. “That little piece of shit, I am so going to kick his ass…” he growls, and Pete laughs out loud. “Not funny, Pete! I really trusted him and he still pulled such a stunt on me. Damn…”
“I thought it was quite cute. I never had a brother, I imagine he must love you a lot, otherwise he wouldn’t have ignored your orders and taken things into his own hands. He wrote that you weren’t doing well at all, and that I should get my head straight and get the hell back home to take care of you. Even sent me the company jet. I never travelled so luxuriously.”
Vegas should just stop trying to eat while listening to this, he nearly chokes again. The company jet? Oh no, Macau, you idiot, what have you been thinking? “Bloody hell…” He coughs and drinks some water. “No wonder you sneaked past immigration so easily.”
Macau, you fucking idiot. Not only did you send my little psychopathic stalker right back to me, you also used the damn jet, leaving a trail that might draw the attention of the wrong people. He really needs to talk to his brother about this.
Pete tries to reason with him. “Don’t yell at him, Vegas. He only wanted to make you feel better. Be glad he interfered, otherwise we would both still be miserable.”
“I know.” Vegas sighs. “It’s just… the jet was a stupid move. He’ll get into trouble for doing this, it’s best I have a chat with him soon.” He is going to wring Macau’s neck.
“He’ll be fine. Now stop fretting and eat, the food is getting cold.” Pete hands him the bowl with steaming rice and they both fall silent again as they eat.
Everything is back to how it used to be. All the emotional turmoil of the last weeks and months is gone. Vegas feels as if he finally can breathe again. Whenever a spark of doubt about this relationship resurfaces, Vegas tells himself that whatever it is, they’ll figure it out. So what if Pete shot him? So what if Pete’s murdering people? Love will conquer all, Vegas will get him to stop killing. He just needs to turn a blind eye to the murderous side of Pete for a while until he figures out how to fix him without having to arrest him. This is Vegas’ happily ever after, and he won’t allow anyone to ruin it. Not even himself.
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They’re also back at work, both of them. Pete has explained to Vegas that he can’t quit his job from one day to the next. Apparently he took some vacation days during his recent absence, fully intending to return. Asshole. There are procedures one has to follow, Pete explains; he’ll be working at the police station for at least another month. Vegas grits his teeth. He doesn’t like this situation at all. He’s terrified that someone might discover the fake identity, but Pete only laughs at his distress.
“Damn exciting, isn’t it? Chill, Vegas. I have everything under control, don’t worry.”
And this is just one of their many problems. He doesn’t want a fake therapist anywhere near his vulnerable colleagues, so Vegas tries to keep Pete busy in their shared office, but that backfires spectacularly because he forgot about the murder board; a glaring reminder of his boyfriend’s true nature, all in glossy gory detail spread out in front of him, rubbing in the ugly truth every second he is at work. And he underestimated Pete’s need to comment on all the gruesome photos, now that Vegas knows the truth.
Vegas is forced to cut him off repeatedly. “Red!”
Finally he kicks Pete out of the office in pure self-preservation. Sorry colleagues, truly sorry. But he cannot stomach listening to Pete trying to explain the difficulties of unhooking ribs from the vertebrae. Can’t do that, sorry. Pete takes it in stride, but Vegas suspects he might be feeling a wee bit hurt about Vegas’ refusal to listen to him.
The whole situation is incredibly stressful. Sometimes Vegas looks in the mirror and doesn’t recognise himself. What is he even doing? He’s a police officer, what on earth is he doing, protecting a murderer like this, even being in a relationship with him? When did he stop giving a fuck about his oath of office? It’s embarrassing how quickly he’s willing to bend his moral guidelines for the sake of love.
Also, Pete shot him. Who’s to say he won’t do it again if something triggers him? Even if Vegas tries to bury that thought deep in his mind, it makes him skittish around Pete, who of course notices it, and it is straining their interaction.
Everything is back to normal, and yet it isn’t. It’s as if he is dating an entirely new person, and Vegas finds it confusing at times. There is a certain caution in their interactions now; both of them are afraid of overstepping each others boundaries.
And since Vegas had that little drunken meltdown, they haven’t done anything other than some tame kissing either. It’s not that he doesn’t desire Pete, he wants him very much. It’s just… complicated. For both of them.
Vegas steps out of the shower and sighs. If only he could make sense of his own confused feelings. Pete has told him repeatedly not to make things complicated, but how does one do that? ‘Vegas the Cop’ keeps rebelling— he’s unhappy that he got overruled by the heart, he isn’t happy with this relationship. Whatever happened to ‘justice for the victims’? But Vegas doesn’t want to listen to his cop side, he doesn’t want to live his life without Pete. It’s a complicated mess.
Drying his hair, Vegas slings the towel around his waist. Lost in thought, he exits the bathroom to get some fresh clothes from the cupboard in the bedroom. There’s a gasp from somewhere behind him and Vegas freezes, turns around and there is Pete, staring at him, shock written all over his face. What the heck?
Pete’s face has lost all colour. He stares at Vegas with wide eyes. What the heck is going on? Vegas is confused. But that confusion disappears in an instant when Pete walks up to him and with trembling fingers reaches out, touching the ugly scar tissue on the left side of Vegas’ chest. Oh. Those scars are very prominent, yes. It will take at least a year until the swelling goes down and the skin turns pale again; right now the scars are raised, lumpy, reddish and very ugly. Vegas has gotten used to them; he hardly even notices them when he looks in the bathroom mirror, but this is the first time Pete sees them, and apparently he’s taking it hard.
“Sorry…” Vegas mumbles and then realises that he shouldn’t be apologising for being scarred; after all it was Pete—no, the monster—who shot him and put those scars there. “They don’t hurt,” he adds when Pete’s fingertips skim very lightly over the jagged, knotty surface of the scar on Vegas’ chest. He is struggling to say something, it is obvious that Pete’s incredibly upset right now.
“It’s okay, I survived.” If only he had taken a shirt along to the bathroom… Vegas wants to hide the scars from Pete’s view. And then he winces when Pete turns him around to take a closer look at his back, because the scars from the exit hole there are so much worse. Pete inhales sharply upon seeing those.
“I’m so damn sorry, Vegas.” On the verge of tears, Pete leans in and places a light kiss on the mangled skin. “I’m so incredibly sorry for doing this to you. Are you ever going to be able to forgive me for this? I called the ambulance, you know? Right after the shot, when I realised how much you really mean to me, I called the ambulance…”
“Pete…” Vegas feels conflicted but turns around and pulls him in for a hug. “I’m sure in time I will be able to forgive you, but not just yet, okay? I don’t want to lie to you, this is something I’m having a really hard time coming to terms with. I know you’re sorry, but I won’t give you an easy way out. Even if you get a brownie point for calling the ambulance, I wasn’t aware you did that.”
“The first few days after I shot you were terrible,” Pete admits, and hugs Vegas back. “I was so scared,” he whispers softly. “I didn’t manage to get any medical update about you from the hospital. No one would tell me anything. It was terrifying. When I eventually managed to sneak in and catch a glimpse of you, you were hooked up to all these machines, I couldn’t even get near you.”
“I was so out of it, I wouldn’t even have noticed your presence. Which reminds me, sending me those flowers was the single most idiotic thing you ever did. Why on earth did you do that? I don’t ever want to see these flowers again, do you hear me? Never ever.” Vegas shudders. He’s truly traumatised when it comes to those damn lilies.
“I’m sorry,” Pete apologises again. “I just wanted to get your attention in whatever way possible, I heard that you couldn’t remember what happened. It was a stupid move, I know. Even if it worked.” With a sigh, he pulls back slightly, and then surprises Vegas by leaning down to softly kiss the scar on his chest.
Vegas draws a startled breath, and Pete looks up, insecurity written all over his face. He is probably expecting Vegas to withdraw again. “Give me a colour, Vegas.” His voice wraps itself around Vegas like a caress.
As he didn’t dislike the kiss, but was just surprised, Vegas replies confidently with, “Green.”
Pete kisses the scars again, then moves his lips tentatively upward, over the collarbone and further up to the throat, leaving a trail of goosebumps on Vegas’ skin. When he finally reaches Vegas’ mouth, Vegas is more than ready, he cradles Pete’s face in his hand, his thumb sweeping along Pete’s cheek, and sighs into the kiss. It never ceases to amaze him how strongly he reacts to Pete kissing him. Vegas was never really that much into kissing but now? Wow… he could kiss Pete for hours on end.
What starts as a gentle, slow kiss is gathering steam. Vegas sinks his fingers into Pete’s hair, his heart rate speeding up. More. Need more. Pete’s tongue is hot in his mouth, teasing him relentlessly, Vegas’ whole body is on fire; he worries he will spontaneously combust. While Vegas is frantically trying to remove Pete’s shirt without breaking the kiss, Pete is walking him backwards. They bump into furniture, the walls, and the doorframe on their way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothes in their wake.
Vegas towel has disappeared somewhere along the way. He is fully naked and aroused when they fall onto the bed together. Pete’s hands are roaming freely over his body. Vegas shudders with desire as they roll back and forth on the bed, and disposes of the rest of Pete’s clothes until he finally is naked as well.
Yes, finally. Vegas moans into Pete’s mouth, relishing the skin-to-skin contact. Then he suddenly finds himself flipped onto the stomach, with Pete straddling him, trailing wet hot kisses along his spine upwards.
Seems the kitten’s feeling a wee bit aggressive today. Vegas chuckles breathlessly when Pete grabs hold of his wrists, slamming them into the mattress. Wave after wave of goosebumps erupt down his back, especially when Pete’s mouth reaches the gnarled scar tissue of the exit wound and starts kissing and licking it. Holy shit. Vegas hisses with delight, arching his back, and Pete growls against his skin, pressing Vegas’ hands even harder against the mattress.
Vegas close his eyes. He loves this, damn, he loves this so much. Aggressive Pete is thrilling; he had no idea what he was missing out on until now. For the time being, he allows Pete to hold the reins, and eagerly awaits where this might be going. When Pete scrapes his teeth along his back up to his neck, Vegas gasps and shudders hard. So damn nice.
“Vegas…” Pete whispers. He is also deliciously out of breath at this point. “Let’s use the handcuffs again.”
Oh, hell yes, baby. Vegas has very fond memories of these handcuffs, very fond memories indeed. This is an excellent suggestion; no shower this time, so the bed will have to do… maybe they should also get a new bed soon, something with metal rails. Pete nips at the sensitive skin on the back of his neck and Vegas can’t hold back a moan.
With Pete’s body weight pressing him into the mattress, Vegas tilts his head to the side so that his boyfriend’s hot mouth has better access to his neck. And Pete immediately takes advantage of this, nibbling his way up and down, teeth brushing against skin, digging into the flesh just short of it becoming painful. It’s titillating.
“I want to handcuff you so badly,” Pete mumbles, scraping his teeth over Vegas’ Adam’s apple, biting down with a little bit more force this time, and this comment is like a bucket of ice water being emptied over Vegas. He misunderstood, Pete wants to handcuff him. Within the blink of an eye, his memories take him back to an unbearably hot room, the stench of decay and blood heavy in the air, and the image of a disembowelled corpse with a gaping throat wound.
Vegas gasps and freezes, the sudden terror flooding him so unexpected that he doesn’t know how to deal with it. The teeth against his throat are no longer sexy; now he perceives them as a threat. Pete wants him handcuffed, helpless just like the drugged Beam, right before Pete killed him by tearing his throat out.
Oh God! Vegas freaks; he bucks and throws off Pete, rolls to the side until he falls off the bed and then crawls backwards until his back hits the wall. Cold, so cold, he feels as if he’s been dipped into ice. Vegas is hyperventilating, he can’t get these images out of his head. He wrings his clammy hands, staring wide-eyed at Pete, who looks completely stunned by this turn of events.
“… Vegas…?” Pete asks tentatively. He has somehow managed to stay on the bed after all that. But as soon as he moves in Vegas’ direction, Vegas defensively throws his arms out with the palms forward, and Pete doesn’t dare any further approach. “… Vegas…?” he asks again, confusion written all over his face. “I’m… sorry? Were the handcuffs too much? I thought… I was under the impression you liked them…?” Yes, Pete is utterly perplexed.
Vegas swallows hard. Inhale. Hold breath. Exhale. Hold breath. He doesn’t know how to answer these questions. Right now he’s just trying to get his breathing back under control, and for that to happen he needs some distance from Pete. Damn, his body is still telling him very firmly that Pete is a threat right now. Fuck!
The muscles in Pete’s face tighten, and his lips are setting in a grim line as he silently watches Vegas struggle for control. Deliberately slow, he inches towards Vegas, but when that causes Vegas to gasp fearfully, and his eyes start filling with barely suppressed panic, Pete withdraws. And then he curses viciously.
Vegas would like nothing more than try to explain himself, but he’s still out of breath and, besides, Pete looks rather unapproachable now, his face turning as dark as a thundercloud. With stiff, jerky movements, he crawls away from Vegas to the other side of the bed, gets off it and picks up his discarded clothes. He is projecting a very tangible anger, and doesn’t exactly help Vegas relax again. Still cursing, and with his clothes in hand, naked Pete storms out of the bedroom and slams the door shut. Vegas flinches hard, but Pete being out of his sight makes breathing easier. Fuck! What the hell just happened? Fuck!
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Pete is gone when Vegas emerges from the bedroom. Bloody hell, what a disaster. Wearily, Vegas takes a very long hot shower—again. Okay, so he obviously has some unresolved issues when it comes to dealing with the fact that his boyfriend has killed someone during sex. What does that make Pete, a rare, male praying mantis? Gah! Vegas feels like a complete idiot for freaking out the way he did. It’s understandable that he panicked, but damn… one step forward and three steps back.
The way things are going, they’re never going to have sex again, Vegas ponders gloomily. Therapy for both of them sounds more and more appealing. They’re both so incredibly broken, it’s heartbreaking. There must be a solution to their current problems, Vegas just isn’t sure where to look for it. Man, this sucks.
Pete has turned off his phone and remains incommunicado for the rest of the day, which doesn’t improve Vegas’ mood. He watches some tv, cooks dinner, and watches more tv. Pete is a no-show and eventually, Vegas gives up and goes to bed. He wants to sulk? Fine.
Sometime during the night Vegas awakens, disorientated. Something has woken him, a sound… and then he hears it again. Something that sounds suspiciously like a choked sob. He is suddenly wide awake. Vegas turns around; the room is dark but he can still make out the outline of the person curled up in a fetal position on the far side of the bed. Another choked sob reaches his ears. Pete is home again, he’s huddled up like a ball of misery, crying quietly.
Vegas is speechless and can feel his throat getting tight. Pete is crying. Oh no. His face twists in sadness, then he discards his blanket and moves over to Pete’s side of the bed. Vegas folds himself around his crying boyfriend, spooning him and enfolding him in his arms. Pete reeks of alcohol, he must have been out drinking. But beneath the stench of liquor there is still the familiar scent of his aftershave, which Vegas loves so much.
The sobs are getting harder now that Vegas is holding him tightly; Pete is no longer trying to stifle them. His whole body shudders with the force of them. Vegas has never seen Pete fall apart like this before, and he feels very helpless all of a sudden. The only thing he can think of is to hold Pete, nuzzling his hair, comforting him quietly. Feel your feelings, his therapist said. Poor Pete, Vegas knows how much that sucks.
It’s really heart-wrenching to witness Pete’s misery. He cries for the longest time, and when the sobs finally slow down enough that he can say something between the hiccups and hitching breath, it just makes Vegas feel even worse.
“… I don’t know what to do to make you love me… I love you so much and it hurts… why do you have to be so scared of me… why can’t you love me too… please just love me the way I am… I’m not a monster… please love me too… I don’t know what to do anymore… everything is wrong… I mess up all the time… I don’t know what to do or say… you get upset all the time… you don’t want me touching you… and I love you so much… please love me, Vegas… please… just love me a little bit… don’t leave me… I won’t know what to do if you leave me… please don’t be afraid… I don’t know how to fix this… please… love me… please…”
Aww, hell. Vegas rests his head against Pete’s, swallowing hard, tears gathering in his eyes. “I do love you, Sunshine,” he tells him softly. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. Please believe me, I’ve not once stopped loving you. Even when you occasionally scare the hell out of me, I still love you to distraction. I love you, Pete. You hear me? I love you. Please don’t cry.” Vegas hugs him tightly. They may have their differences, but every word he just said is true. “Please listen to me: I love you, Pete. Even when you kill people. I love you and I will not stop loving you anytime soon. We will figure it out together, okay? I’m truly sorry for what happened earlier today, please don’t hold it against me. I love you. You love me. We’ll make it work somehow.”
And Vegas keeps murmuring reassurances into Pete’s ear, telling him how much he loves him until Pete’s sniffles and hiccups eventually die down, and he falls asleep in Vegas’ arms.
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“This is not going to work.”
Vegas and Pete are in the kitchen, having an argument. About banana muffins. Or rather, about the correct way to bake muffins. Just like with the IKEA furniture, Pete is displaying a lack of interest in following instructions, or in this case, the recipe.
“Nonsense, you’ll see, these muffins will be super tasty.” Pete simply dumps more flour into a large bowl without even measuring or weighing it. It’s giving Vegas anxiety.
“Stop. Just stop.” Vegas intervenes, taking the bowl away from Pete. “Someone spent a lot of time perfecting this recipe to ensure that the resulting muffins will not only be edible but even delicious. You can’t just change the ingredients or the amount of ingredients, it simply isn’t done, Pete. You need to have just the right amount of baking powder in relation to the amount of flour, otherwise the muffins won’t rise, or they’ll fall apart.”
“Don’t make it so complicated, Vegas,” Pete complains, and simply takes out a fresh bowl. “Trust me, I have a feeling for how much flour we need. Why bother with the scale, it’s just a waste of time.”
“Refill this bowl again and I will smack you. Go and squash the bananas while I do the correct measuring. Only two bananas. Not one and a half, not two and a half, just two. Squash them into goo, that should keep you busy and out of my hair for a while.” Vegas glares at his boyfriend and threatens him with a large cooking spoon.
“You need to try to lighten up and not be so rigid in your thinking, Vegas.” Pete wiggles his eyebrows, the devil in his eyes. He dips his fingers into the container with the flour, and then flings the powder playfully at Vegas.
Vegas sneezes. “Are you a toddler, or what? We’re not in kindergarden. Don’t mess with my kitchen.”
“Our kitchen, honey. I am paying part of the rent,” Pete informs him cheerfully, and flings more flour at him, before deciding to make a dash for the bowl Vegas is holding, but Vegas holds it high up over his head and out of reach. Cackling gleefully, Pete deftly dodges the spoon of doom that Vegas is swinging playfully at him, and jumps up to grab the bowl. Vegas can’t help it, he laughs while keeping it out of Pete’s reach. Chaos ensues. Five minutes later the kitchen is a mess and so are they.
Both of them are liberally coated with flour, caught between sneezing, coughing and laughing. Vegas is so damn happy; he hasn’t been this carefree in the longest time. Smiling broadly, he helps Pete brush the flour off their clothes. Yes, the kitchen is a mess, but who gives a damn? The only thing that counts right now is Pete’s dazzling smile as he looks at Vegas. Mine, Vegas’ heart sings. My soulmate. All mine.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Uhm… Vegas… If you keep looking at me like this, we won’t get any baking done today, because I won’t be able to keep my hands off you,” Pete warns him, which only makes Vegas smile even wider.
“Is that a promise?” he asks teasingly. “Muffins are overrated anyway. How about you show me where exactly you want to put those hands of yours? I have a few suggestions… ”
Up to that challenge, Pete licks his lips, and walks straight into Vegas’ open arms. “How about we start with taking off all these dirty clothes—we wouldn’t want to spread flour all over the apartment, right?” he murmurs, tugging at Vegas’ sweater.
“Sounds like a perfectly reasonable plan to me.” Vegas leans in to nuzzle Pete’s neck. God, he smells good. He smells good, he looks good and Vegas loves him to distraction. Mine mine mine. Pete’s hands are under his sweater now, roaming over the skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Vegas sighs happily, resting his hands on Pete’s hips.
And then the doorbell rings.
Damn. Couldn’t come at a worse time. Both Vegas and Pete do a startled little jump, then laugh at the same time.
“Unbelievably bad timing,” Vegas complaints, reluctantly letting go of Pete, who withdraws his hands with a sigh.
Grumbling, Vegas heads for the door, dusting himself off best he can.
When he opens the door to find himself face-to-face with his little brother, Vegas is surprised. Well, damn. He totally forgot about Macau; since Pete’s return, Vegas has been completely wrapped up in his boyfriend. In fact, he’s totally forgotten that he needs to have a talk with Macau. Then another thought skips through his mind. Shit. Macau is here and he still doesn’t want him to meet Pete. Those two need to be kept apart. Shit.
Vegas automatically smiles while continuing to wipe the flour stains off his face and clothes, frantically trying to find a reason not to invite Macau in. Then something else occurs to him. His little brother looks miserable, truly miserable. Alarm echoes through Vegas. Macau gives him a weak smile and silently mouths ‘I am sorry’, which only increases Vegas’ alarm.
“Well, well, well…” From the side, Vegas’ father steps into view, and Vegas’ initial alarm turns into complete terror. Pursing his lips, Khun Gun gives him a disdainful sneer while looking him over. “Once again a total mess. Will you never learn to dress properly? Don’t forget you’re a Theerapanyakul, son, you have a reputation to uphold.”
Nonono. This cannot be happening! Terror blends with panic. Vegas freezes and stares wide-eyed at his father. Why is he here? In all the years he’s been living on his own, his father never visited him. Never. Why now? This can’t be happening! He’s at a loss for words; his mind is trapped in a never-ending loop—Pa cannot find out about Pete. Pa cannot find out about Pete—this is his worst nightmare!
Khun Gun tilts his head and presses his lips together. Vegas knows he’s a never-ending source of disappointment to his father. No matter what he does, he’s never good enough.
“Snap out of it and clean yourself up!” his father barks sharply at him. Both Vegas and Macau flinch at that tone of voice, and instinctively, Vegas hastily starts brushing himself off. Oh God. Pa cannot find out about Pete. Pa cannot find out about Pete.
“Pa…” Feeling completely helpless, Vegas gives his father a beseeching look while blocking the entrance to his apartment with his body. “Can we do this somewhere else? Please?”
Anywhere is better than here. And poor Macau… this is all Vegas’ fault. Macau only misappropriated the company jet because of Vegas. And now both of them are in deep shit trouble from the looks of it.
“Shut up,” his father commands him firmly, narrowing his eyes. “I should have known that you’re the one trying to corrupt your brother. We had a deal—you’re to stay the fuck away from your brother. What part of staying away is it that you don’t comprehend, boy?” He takes a threatening step forward and again, both Macau and Vegas duck their heads and retreat —Macau to the side and Vegas back into the apartment.
He’s falling right back into old behaviour patterns, the son cowering before his raging father. He shouldn’t do this, but his mind is still frozen in terror. Pa cannot find out about Pete.“I’m sorry…” he rambles hastily. “I’m sorry… You want to punish me? Fine, lock me up again, just let me put on my shoes, then you can take me away.”
“Vegas!” His brother forgets for a moment that in a situation like this, it’s better to stay silent and unnoticed. Khun Gun shoves him hard against the wall for opening his mouth, and Macau ducks, making himself very small. Vegas’ heart aches. Both of them learned the hard way how to shield themselves the best way.
“Leave him alone. It was all my idea.” A glance at his father’s dark face and Vegas adds hastily, “Please.”
He is so stressed he grabs the wrong shoes in his haste, and then is confused that they don’t fit him. Oh, Pete’s shoes. Pa cannot find out about Pete. He needs to get his father away from here quickly.
“Going somewhere, Vegas?” an all too familiar voice asks from somewhere behind him, and Vegas heart nearly jumps out of his chest.
Nonono! Oh God, no! Panic-stricken, he glances back over his shoulder and sees Pete slowly walking out of the living room. No, go away! Vegas shakes his head, gesturing for him to leave, but Pete is no longer paying attention to him.
His lips curl into a friendly smile as he looks past Vegas, towards the people standing by the door. “Do we have visitors?”
Macau’s eyes widen as soon as he spies Pete, then he turns as pale as Vegas, his eyes darting over to his father, to check his reaction to this unexpected newcomer.
Narrowing his eyes, the head of the Minor family scrutinises Pete, taking in his ruffled and dirty appearance. Just like Vegas, he’s still covered with patches of flour. Khun Gun doesn’t seem overly impressed by this young man at all. He snorts disdainfully and turns his attention back to Vegas. “Oh, son…” His deceptively soft tone of voice is sending waves of dread through Vegas. “You really didn’t learn your lesson, did you? You thought you could hide this from me?”
Nonono! Vegas breath catches, he jolts upright and instinctively moves to place himself directly between Pete and his father. Nonono. He’s going to loose another person he loves; this is history repeating itself.
“… Pa…” he croaks, his voice sounding strangled. “Don’t even think about it. Leave him alone.” He can feel movement behind him, then Pete is by his side, casually slipping an arm around Vegas’ waist, leaning against him reassuringly.
“Oh, so this is your father and your brother, Vegas? Am I finally meeting my in-laws?” Pete sounds completely calm, curious even, and Vegas wants to scream. Of course Pete wouldn’t take this situation seriously. Shit shit shit!
Khun Gun scoffs at Pete’s words, glancing at him with scorn. “In-laws? Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. I can still smell the stench of the brothel my son must have picked you up from. You want to join the Theerapanyakul family? Then grow some tits and a cunt first!”
Both Vegas and Macau flinch ever so slightly, and Vegas grits his teeth, struggling with the hatred and fear bubbling up inside of him. He can feel Pete’s fingers digging deeply into his waist and even though he still seems relaxed outwardly, Vegas can feel the tension in his boyfriend’s body.
“I see,” Pete says softly, way too softly for Vegas’ liking. “It’s unfortunate that you feel this way, but I guess we all have prejudices that we can’t move past.”
“Pa!” Vegas intervenes sharply. “Could we please try and stay civil with each other? Do you want the whole damn floor of this building to know about our private business?” He turns towards Pete. “And will you please go back to the living room and let me handle my family?” He’s still scared out of his mind. The calculating way his father is looking at Pete does not bode well.
“Are you going to dispose of your little boy toy yourself, son, or will you wait for me to handle it?” Khun Gun narrows his eyes.
Vegas can see the veins throbbing in his neck, and he gulps. Not good, not good at all.
Then his father’s attention turns back to Pete. “You better run, you little tramp, and leave my son alone; run as far as possible and pray I won’t find you, because when I do, you’ll regret it.”
Alarmed, Vegas once again shoves Pete behind him. “Stay the fuck away from him, Pa! And stay out of my damn life too!”
He should have expected it. After all his father’s pattern of behaviour never changes. But when Khun Gun darts forward and backhands him viciously, Vegas is still stunned. The force of the blow makes him stagger backwards against Pete. Pete’s hands automatically reach out to steady him. The familiar pain explodes in his cheek and he blinks wide-eyed at his father. Vegas can feel that Pete has gone awfully still, and the hairs on the back of his neck rise as his danger sense starts to screech. Suddenly Vegas finds himself stuck between two madmen.
“Shut your mouth, boy! How dare you talk back to me? Show me some filial respect, you little piece of shit! I won’t have you make a laughingstock out of this family because you can’t keep it in your pants, giving in to your abnormal desires! I won’t have it, you hear me!”
“Are you okay?” Pete mumbles, barely audible, and the total lack of emotion in his voice increases Vegas’ alarm tenfold. Not good, not good at all! Cautiously, Pete pulls Vegas a few steps backward, away from the furious older man who continues to shout at them. Vegas doesn’t know what’s worse; his father showering him and Pete with verbal abuse, so angry that he is nearly frothing at the mouth, or the way Pete maintains an iron grip on his arm, immobilised by quiet fury.
Meanwhile Macau watches everything unfold, fearfully huddled against the wall across the hallway. Just one look at his pale face and Vegas wants to hug him really badly, but for that he would need to walk past his incensed father.
Khun Gun is stark raving mad. The whole episode with the airplane must have triggered him badly, finding out that Macau colluded with Vegas made it worse, and now discovering that his son has a lover hidden away is apparently the last straw. He’s on a roll, the hatred spewing forth, battering Vegas relentlessly.
“You dumb fool, I can always count on you to ruin everything. If our new business partners find out about your little lover boy, the deal with the southern casinos will fall through! Bloody faggot, lusting after other men, why can’t I have a normal son?! You are such an embarrassment, so fucking incompetent and useless, just like your mother! No wonder you’re inferior to Kinn, you’re even a complete failure as a cop, you fail at everything you try—even that! I’m ashamed of being your father! Just look how angry you have made me, you idiot!”
With every outburst, his father advances threateningly, shaking his fist and pointing his finger accusingly at Vegas, who flinches under the onslaught. His cheek hurts from the blow, and his heart hurts from the cruel, poisonous words thrown at him.
Grimly, Pete pulls Vegas further back into the apartment, determined not to allow Khun Gun to get within reach of his son again. Vegas is so stunned and disheartened by the sheer amount of hatred thrown at him by his father that his reaction time is regrettably slow. So when Khun Gun lashes out again, all he sees is the shimmer of the family ring in the light. His body is too slow to move out of the way.
Vegas might be slow, but Pete isn’t. One moment Vegas is about to be hit again, the next second he finds himself being yanked out of the way, and his father’s hand collides with Pete’s face instead. The sound of the hard slap echoes through the hallway. Pete’s head jerks to the side with the force of the blow, and blood blossoms on his lip.
Pete growls deep in his throat.
“Look what you made me do now!” his father yells at Vegas, who snaps out of his temporary daze, and throws his arms around Pete, holding on for dear life to the bloodthirsty predator that his boyfriend has suddenly morphed into.
“Pete! Don’t!” he shouts desperately, because he knows what his little psychopath is capable of doing when he is angry, and damn, Pete is trembling with rage. “Don’t do it, it’s not worth it!” And turning to his father, he snarls: “Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops and report you for assaulting two police officers!”
His father’s face is flushed red with fury. “You dare to threaten me?! Me?! I’d like to see you try, you pathetic little wimp!”
“Pa!” Macau’s alarmed shout interrupts the unfolding drama. “Pa, I think the neighbours have called the police!”
That’s enough to stop Khun Gun from launching himself at his son again. It’s probably for the best; Vegas can barely maintain his hold on the bloodthirsty bundle of rage Pete has turned into. If this continues, there’ll be dead bodies littering the floor soon.
“We’re not done yet!” his father threatens as he retreats back into the hallway. “Mark my words Vegas, your lover boy is a dead man walking, you hear me, son?! And then I’ll deal with you and beat that rebellious spirit out of you once and for all!” With a last shake of his fist, Khun Gun marches off, grabbing Macau by the arm and dragging him along.
The sudden silence is deafening.
Vegas feels rather stunned, but he has no time to process what just happened, because Pete is still struggling against his hold. Is it safe to release him now? Will it ever be safe? Oh, fuck… Reluctantly, Vegas sets his furious boyfriend free.
Pete snarls and rams his fist into the wall. Once, twice. Vegas cringes, but maybe it’s best to let Pete vent a bit right now. Meanwhile, Vegas closes the apartment door. When he turns around, he sees Pete putting on his shoes.
“Where do you think you are going?” he asks with alarm.
“Out!” Pete hisses through clenched teeth.
Oh no. Vegas has a sense of impending doom. “You’re not going after my father, are you?”
Pete strides past Vegas towards the exit, without answering.
“Promise me!” Vegas grabs Pete hard, turning him around so that they face each other.
Pete is white as a sheet, trembling with fury, Vegas has never seen him this angry before, and it’s damn scary.
“Promise me!” He shakes Pete once, hard, to get his attention. “Promise me you won’t kill him!”
Pete hisses angrily, glaring at Vegas. The look on his face reminds Vegas too much of how Pete looked while stabbing Tawan, and he swallows dryly. Can’t let that happen. “Promise me!” Vegas insists forcefully once more.
“Let go of me, Vegas…” Pete growls in a low voice that sends a shiver of fear through Vegas. His hold on Pete tightens.
“Promise me you won’t kill him!”
He hates this side of Pete, hates it. Vegas makes eye contact because this is the only way to ensure that Pete really listens to him. “I know you’re pissed off and I’m aware that he’s a shitty human being, but you cannot kill him, you hear me?! Despite everything, he’s my father, and you must not kill him! Are you listening to me? Promise me you won’t kill my father!”
“Vegas!” Pete tears himself free. For a moment it looks as if he is about to lash out again, but then he has himself back under control.
Vegas steps forward to block Pete’s path. “Promise me! Swear to me that you’re not going to kill my father, Pete!”
“Damn it, Vegas!” In sheer frustration, Pete kicks the wall.
“I love you, Pete. Please don’t kill my father, I’m begging you.” Vegas can play dirty too when he needs to.
“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” Again, Pete kicks the wall in ever-growing frustration. Then he takes a deep, shuddering breath, staring tensely at Vegas. “Fine. I promise I will not kill your father. Happy now?”
Vegas breathes a sigh of relief, steps forward and enfolds Pete in his arms. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you,” he whispers as he buries his face into Pete’s hair.
Pete is still stiff with anger, but after a while Vegas feels the tension slowly leaving his body, and his breathing calms down as well. And when Pete finally slips his arms around Vegas’ waist, and fully leans into the embrace, Vegas knows he has won this fight. Thank God!
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Vegas carefully cleans Pete’s split lip, then hands him an ice pack to keep the swelling down. He holds an icepack to his own cheek, where the bruise has already started to bloom in dark purple underneath the skin. What a pair they are. The day started so well, and look how it all went downhill. Fuck.
Pete finally speaks up. “I don’t understand.” He’s been awfully quiet since Vegas more or less forced that concession not to kill his father out of him, and his silence has been grating on Vegas’ nerves. “That man is a menace. I don’t understand how you can be so attached to him.”
“Of course you don’t understand, you never had a family.” With a sigh, Vegas leans back, sinking into the soft, colourful pillows on the couch. “It’s complicated, all right? My father is a horrible human being, I agree, but whatever he does, he is still my father. I can’t just have him killed because I hate him, that’s not how society and families work. I think if you asked around, a lot of people will tell you that they hate their parents. But none of them would actually want them killed.”
“He hit you, though. And from the looks of it, it wasn’t the first time either.” Pete’s voice sounds very strained. “He really shouldn’t have hit you. It made me very angry. I think the world would be a better place without him.” Holding the ice pack against his swollen lip, Pete watches Vegas closely, carefully choosing his words. “Make me understand, please? Do you love him? Is that why you didn’t defend yourself?”
“Believe it or not, my father wasn’t always like this. I do have some very early memories of him being a great father. He often took me and my mother on weekend trips out into the country side. He taught me fishing and how to skip flat pebbles over the surface of a lake. I don’t know why, but at some point it all started to fall apart. It probably has to do with Uncle Korn and the family business. The division of the family into a main and a minor branch was strategically planned to increase the competition and make us all more ruthless.”
Pete is listening attentively, and Vegas nearly catches himself smiling. Pete is so earnestly trying to understand.
“I remember that at some point Uncle Korn started to compare me to Kinn whenever the family met, and somehow I never quite measured up in the eyes of the adults. I think in the beginning my father tried to ignore it, but as time went by, it just got too much. Those two made my life into a competition I never had a chance to win. My mother tried to protect me for a while but our lives turned more and more violent, and my father more and more unpredictable. He must have been under enormous pressure.”
This is the first time Vegas has talked about his father with anyone, and he is surprised at the emotions welling up. “I’m not excusing his behaviour towards the rest of the family. No one should put a gun in the hand of their 6-year-old son, and force him to pull the trigger and execute someone. It’s inexcusable. I’m just saying that there is no easy explanation for his behaviour. I heard my grandfather was even worse than my father and my uncle combined. Like father, like sons, I suppose. And just look at my own anger issues—my outbursts put people in the hospital too.”
“When you disappeared from the hospital, did you go home to him?” Pete asks him quietly.
“I asked to be moved to the Main family mansion first because I knew you couldn’t get in there,” Vegas admits. “But after a while my uncle and my father decided to gang up on me. They wanted to turn me into a dirty cop. They tried to blackmail me and when I still refused, my uncle handed me over to my father, who took me home and locked me up in the cellar.”
Vegas stops, because Pete has gone all still again upon hearing this, and there’s a frightful darkness growing in his eyes.
“It’s in the past, Sunshine. No need to get upset about that anymore. I’ve been locked up in that cellar so often, it’s not a big deal.” That’s a plain lie, but thankfully Pete doesn’t know how much that cellar terrifies Vegas.
“You were hurt. He shouldn’t have done this to you,” Pete mutters quietly.
“I didn’t stay in there for long. They soon moved me to the safe house outside the city for a few months. It’s really quite pleasant there, beautiful scenery. A lovely golden cage.”
“But you were still locked up… and since you refused to be blackmailed I can imagine that your father wasn’t happy with you at all.” Pete isn’t an idiot, he knows Vegas is trying to make the situation sound nicer than it actually was. “How often did he come to visit you there?”
Vegas looks away, shifting the position of the ice pack against his cheek. “A few times.”
“And how many of those times did he yell at you and hit you, Vegas?” No, Pete hasn’t given up on finding out the truth. Seeing how Vegas is reluctant to answer, he sighs. “Come on, out with the truth. I’ve seen your father in action now. That man is unhinged. Just admit it, he abused you every single time, isn’t that right?”
What is there to say? Vegas just nods hesitantly. “I know this sounds bad, but I’m used to it, Pete. I can take a few punches, it’s no big deal. And I try to block out the verbal abuse as best I can. Usually it doesn’t last long; he runs out of steam quickly. And he hasn’t put me in the hospital since I moved out. I can handle it, okay? Don’t worry.”
“You should hit back, you should defend yourself.” Frowning, Pete tilts his head to the side. He still seems to have trouble comprehending why Vegas is acting so irrationally.
“He’s my father, Pete. I can’t just hit my father, that’s wrong.”
“You are not making any sense to me,” Pete admits. “That man deserves to have his ass kicked, maybe then he’ll think twice about hitting other people.”
“I just can’t, okay? He’s my father. No matter what he does to me, I could never return his violence with violence. It would be wrong. I don’t know how to explain this to you; I think you can only understand it if you have a family of your own.”
Rolling his eyes, Pete decides to drop the matter. But Vegas knows they need to talk about something else as well. “You’re aware that you’re in trouble now, right? You’ve seen how my father reacted to your presence, and our relationship, and you know what he did to my first boyfriend. He’s going to come after you, Pete.” And that thought terrifies Vegas.
Totally unconcerned, Pete just shrugs. “Let him try. Seriously Vegas… it’s adorable that you are worried about me, but you seem to be forgetting that I am not as innocent and meek as I look. If your father comes for me, he’ll get a nasty surprise.”
“Remember, you promised not to kill him,” Vegas reminds him quickly, and receives an exasperated glare from Pete. “Anyway, I wish you would take this a bit more seriously. I’m really worried, Pete. You have to be extremely careful, all right? Don’t you dare get yourself killed and ruin my happily ever after.”
That statement manages to make Pete smile—the dimples make an appearance and Vegas sighs happily, momentarily distracted from his worries. Pete’s smile deepens, he shuffles closer to Vegas and leans against him, resting his head on Vegas’ shoulder. “I promised you ‘forever’, so yes, I’ll be careful. Chill Vegas, everything will be fine.”
Vegas exhales slowly, trying to shove his worries aside, but he is only partially successful. His father can’t be trusted to keep away now that he knows Vegas is in a relationship.
Kissing the top of Pete’s head, he takes Pete’s hand into his own, lacing their fingers together. “Forever. Don’t mess it up, Pete. I have a bad feeling about this.”
“You’re always such a pessimist, Vegas.” Pete squeezes his hand gently and then changes the topic. “We still need to clean the kitchen.”
Both of them glance in the direction of the mess they made earlier on, and they groan simultaneously.
“Later?” Pete suggests, because neither of them likes cleaning.
“Later,” Vegas agrees, and then they just sit on the couch for a while, leaning against each other.
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As far as Vegas is concerned, these next few days are pure torture. Pete behaves as if nothing ever happened. He’s cheerful as always, and affectionate, but Vegas can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.
With each passing day, Vegas gets more and more nervous. He knows he’s behaving irrationally, but as soon as Pete is out of his sight, he get so anxious that concentrating on his work is increasingly difficult. Macau isn’t answering his phone, which is yet another stress factor, but Vegas tells himself that his father can’t afford to lose yet another company bank account to the IRS, and so Khun Gun will go relatively easy on him.
The worst part of the waiting game is when Pete repeatedly disappears, leaving work without telling Vegas where he is heading, his phone switched off. It drives Vegas insane with worry. He’s always a nervous wreck by the time Pete eventually shows up at home again.
Finally, he can’t take it anymore. “You need to stop,” he tells Pete when his little ray of death comes home late in the evening after being off the grid for hours. “I don’t want to come across as the controlling boyfriend, but could you please try to think about how I’m feeling when you disappear from the face of the earth and I can’t reach you? Especially knowing that my father is out there, plotting how to kill you?”
“I’m sorry?” Pete seems genuinely puzzled by Vegas’ concern. “It didn’t occur to me that you would be worried. I told you I can take care of myself.”
Vegas wants to tear out his hair in frustration. “Your confidence in yourself in nice, but I feel you’re underestimating how determined my father can get when he’s pissed off, and I’m fairly sure we managed to piss him off pretty badly. I don’t want to get a call from the police, telling me to come and identify your body—is that so hard to understand, Pete?”
“I messed up again, didn’t I? I’m sorry Vegas.” Pete walks over to his side and kisses his cheek. “I’ll let you know when I am going to be late from now on, all right?”
Somewhat mollified, Vegas nods. “Okay.” But then something else occurs to him and his stomach drops. Alarmed, he gives Pete a sharp look. “What exactly are you doing when you disappear? You’re not planning to kill someone again, are you?”
Has it been that long since the last kill already? The murders he knows of were relatively close together, so the next one must be long overdue. If that’s how Pete rolls, that is.
“Vegas…” Taking a step backward, Pete sighs, lowering his head as he walks away towards the bathroom.
Let it go, is what that means. Vegas is well aware of it, but he simply can’t do that this time, so he follows Pete anxiously.
“How often do you even need to kill? Is there a set interval you operate on? And does that mean you killed while I was in hospital? No! Don’t answer that last part, I don’t want to know.”
Pete clearly does not like these questions; Vegas can see how he is curling his hands into fists.
“I told you I would no longer kill in this city, did you forget?” Pete turns around, giving Vegas an icy look. “What, you don’t trust me?”
“How am I supposed to trust you when you’ve been a habitual liar in the past?” Walking right up to him, Vegas faces Pete calmly. “Everything in the past has been a lie! Of course I have trust issues when it comes to you. Stop making me feel bad about having doubts. You’re sliding right back into familiar manipulation territory, Sunshine.”
Pete stiffens and narrows his eyes. “Are you ever going to stop holding this against me, Vegas? How many more times do I need to apologise? This is getting tedious.”
“I don’t want your apologies. I want the whole, damn, ugly truth, all the time.” Reaching out, Vegas cradles Pete’s face in his hands, the thumbs brushing softly along his cheekbones. “I love you, you damn idiot. And I’m scared out of my mind that you will drop one of your nightmarish crime scenes on me all of a sudden. Please don’t do this to me, okay? I don’t need even more nightmares. You go do your thing if you can’t hold it in anymore, but don’t forcefully expose me to it. And for heavens sake, talk to me. All I want is a simple message. ‘I’ll be off the grid, doing my thing for a few hours. Expect me to be home at around 9 am.’ That is all I need, so that I don’t lose my mind worrying about you.”
Pete’s dark eyes once again remind Vegas of a bottomless abyss. The way he scrutenises Vegas is so intense that Vegas feels as if he is caressing a leopard coiled to pounce and attack him any second. It’s scary. It’s exciting.
“I love you,” he repeats quietly, knowing that this usually calms Pete down again. “I really love you. Please don’t get bored with me, or lose your patience with me.”
Slowly, Pete inclines his head, then leans into Vegas’ touch, closing his eyes. Vegas breathes a sigh of relief. Catastrophe averted for now. And when he starts kissing Pete and the flames of desire between them flare to life, he tells himself that it doesn’t matter if Pete is killing again. He will not let go of this puzzle piece, even if it’s drenched in blood, and slowly soiling the rest of the puzzle that comprises Vegas.
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Pete keeps disappearing, but now Vegas receives a message every time he goes off the grid. Does that make it easier? Just slightly. Okay, so now Vegas knows that his father hasn’t snatched his boyfriend, but the fact still remains that Pete is out of his sight, doing something he is unwilling to share, and it stresses Vegas out. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take before he cracks and causes another scene.
If only he had something real, something different to do at work, but everyone there expects him to be busy catching the infamous serial killer who also happens to be his boyfriend. So Vegas has to fake an investigation he isn’t actually working on, and it’s frustrating as hell. Everything sucks big time. Vegas lives for the hours when Pete is at home, when they pretend everything in their lives is normal.
He is aware that this can’t continue indefinitely, and when everything starts to unravel, it comes almost as a relief.
The sun is setting and Pete has been out of touch the whole day, so Vegas has skipped preparing dinner for two in favour of a sandwich. When he hears the key in the lock, he inwardly breathes a sigh of relief. But that turns into alarm the moment Pete enters the living room.
“What the fuck happened?!” Vegas exclaims, dropping the book he’s been reading and hurriedly getting up from the couch.
Pete has been roughed up. His hair is ruffled, there are signs of a recent nosebleed and his clothes have some fresh tears as well. And is that blood on his arm? Vegas gasps and hurries to his side, inspecting his boyfriend’s upper arm anxiously. Yes, Pete has a cut there that is still trickling blood. A cut. From a knife. Vegas gasps with shock.
Pete himself is remarkably calm through all of this. He’s stayed silent until now, allowing Vegas to fuss over him. But seeing Vegas’ growing distress, he sighs and smiles tiredly. “I’m okay, I just had a little run-in with your father’s bodyguards. Don’t worry, it’s just a shallow cut.”
Fuck! Vegas’ anxiety spikes instantly. His dad finally made his move, it seems. “We need to clean this,” he mumbles, staring at the cut. Red. He doesn’t like red. Red doesn’t suit Pete.
“Trust me, I’m okay, Vegas.” Pete inhales a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “I want you to come with me. I think it would be better for us if we left here for a while.”
Vegas blinks, listening but not quite comprehending. Red. He does not like it when Pete bleeds. It stresses him out, reminds him of white flowers turning red. He does not like this.
“Vegas.” Pete lightly touches his cheek, bringing Vegas back to reality. “I’m fine, don’t fret. You can patch me up if that will make you feel better, but then we have to leave.”
Yes. He needs to get that blood off Pete. Vegas nods numbly and heads to the bathroom for the first aid kit. His father has hurt Pete. He knew this would happen. He knew it. His father has hurt Pete, and he won’t stop at merely hurting him. His father is going to kill his boyfriend, he’s going to take Pete away from him. History is repeating itself. He should have known it would end like this. He’s such an idiot, hoping for a happily ever after. His father is going to kill Pete, and then Vegas will be all alone again.
“Vegas.” Once again, Pete brings him back to the real world. He sounds concerned.
Vegas blinks again, he must have spaced out while cleaning the injury on Pete’s arm. Swallowing hard, he tapes the cut and places a sterile gauze pad over it, taping that in place too.
Pete leans in and gently kisses Vegas’ forehead. “Thank you. Now please stop worrying. Grab your phone, I’m going to take you somewhere safe to regroup.”
“We’re leaving?” Damn, he needs to snap out of his daze and start paying attention to what Pete is telling him. “Where exactly are we going and for how long?”
“We’re going someplace safe. I’m a sitting duck here; let’s try to avoid collateral damage. I wouldn’t put it past your father to blow up this entire building—he seemed angry enough. Let’s go, Vegas,” Pete tells him grimly.
And so they leave. Pete drives. Vegas is in the passenger seat, trying not to spiral into despair.
“What on earth happened?” he asks quietly after a while. They’re heading for the outskirts of the city from the looks of it.
“I told you, I had a run-in with your father’s bodyguards. Nasty bunch, all of them. But objectively speaking, they’re not as well-trained as your uncle’s bodyguards. Bay was giving me a lot more problems back then.” Pete casts Vegas a quick look before concentrating on the traffic again. “Chill Vegas, I got rid of them. It just took me a bit longer than expected because there were so many of them. That’s why I got a bit roughed up. But I’m safe now, that’s all that counts, right?”
“Did you kill them?” Vegas can’t help asking, even though he knows the answer already.
“They’re pretty dead, yes.” Pete shrugs. “The ‘no kill’ order didn’t extend to them right? I just promised I wouldn’t kill your father.”
What a fucking mess. Vegas forks his fingers through his hair. He can already imagine how his father will react to the death of his guards. “At least the bodies won’t be connected to you.” His cop part kicks in, looking at the practical side of everything. “The police will assume this is related to power struggles amongst the ruling families.”
“Perfect,” Pete mutters, weaving the car through the traffic.
Yes, they’re definitely on their way out of the city.
“Where are we going?” Vegas asks again.
“Somewhere safe,” Pete says, and Vegas believes him. Being a killer, he probably planned ahead for something like this. A guy like him most likely has a lot of safe places scattered across the country.
“Get some rest, Vegas. We’ll be on the road for a while, I’ll wake you when we arrive.”
“Shouldn’t you be the one taking a rest? You’re the one who got hurt, after all. I can drive if you want…” Vegas offers instantly, but Pete just shakes his head.
“I’m fine, really. That little cut isn’t slowing me down, or hindering me the slightest bit. Go rest. I think this must have been quite a shock to you.”
Again, Pete casts him a small, dimpled smile to reassure him, and Vegas gives in. He leans back in the seat, resting his head against the window, watching the scenery race past; everything is dipped into shades of red by the setting sun. Too much red. I don’t like red. Vegas sighs and closes his eyes.
“I love you,” he hears Pete whisper quietly, and that makes him smile. It feels good to be loved. He will follow Pete to the end of the earth if need be.
And then Vegas falls asleep.