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Chapter Text

He felt eyes on him. Again.

Vegas leaned casually against the bar, back curved and a glass of whiskey dangling from his long fingers. He swept the room from one end to the other, the hair at the nape of his neck rising.
He was back. Whoever he is.

Vegas noticed months ago someone was shadowing him. He could feel the uptick of breath in dark alleys late at night, and the rustling of clothes as the person disappeared around the corner whenever Vegas turned around to look.

He knew he had enemies.

He knew he had people gunning to take over the Minor family now that his father was gone. Goons that spent years watching him be abused and thinking him weak and unworthy of the position he was in.
Kinn disagreed. Which shocked Vegas more than anything else.

Apparently, his cousin wasn’t the spoiled little prince Vegas was brought up to believe him to be. He was softer than Vegas, sure. Brought up with love more than violence, although he was familiar with it. Shaped to be a leader instead of a follower.

But he was smart, and loyal and honest.

And after everything their fathers did to almost make their entire family implode, Kinn invited Vegas to sit down with him and figure out where they went from there.

He told Vegas he was taking over the Major family and wanted to stop the feud between them and the Minor family. He wanted them close and united before their enemies. He wanted them stronger. Menacing and foreboding. And Vegas, underneath all the years of pent-up jealousy, rage, and resentment, found that he agreed with him.

They were stronger together.

With Kinn and his pretty boy smile working the front, and Vegas with his penchant for darkness handling the shady side of things.

Things were finally looking up, and Vegas was finally enjoying his life.

And then his shadow appeared.

Painted a bullseye on Vegas’ back and made him tense and alert. It made him reassess everyone he came into contact with, made him double-check every dark corner, and doubt every drink he received. It made him puff out circles of smoke from his cigarette with questions on his mind and eat his meals with a frown on his face at the lack of answers.

And he had to admit, the thrill of it made him feel more alive than ever before.

“The auction is about to start, Boss,” one of his men came to inform him and Vegas nodded, turning toward his table.

Kinn was sitting there with Porsche already, the two men disgustingly cuddly in front of everyone.

Vegas headed to join them but then turned back to his guard.

“There is someone here tonight that shouldn’t be here,” he said. “Find them.”

He knew he didn’t need to give any further instructions. His men were loyal to him from the moment his father hired them.

He thought he’d be able to use them to report to him on Vegas, torture them to betray him. But Vegas knew how to make his men stay on his side.

“Yes, Boss,” his guard said before disappearing without saying a single word more.

Vegas downed his drink and walked over to sit next to Kinn. The air was still tense between them. The casual friendliness Kinn shifted to the moment they agreed to work together throwing him off balance. Vegas was used to subterfuge and backstabbing.

He knew it would take time to fully trust Kinn or anyone who worked for him. But he was trying. He had promised Macau he would do his best to give them both an easier life than their father ever did.

“Kinn, Porsche,” he greeted when he joined them.

“Vegas,” Kinn nodded primly.

“Good turnout tonight,” Vegas said. He had zero clue as to how someone made small talk.

“Indeed,” Kinn said. “I think we should be able to assert some dominance with this kind of crowd present.”

Because that’s what the auction was, in a nutshell. A chance to flaunt the amount of money and power you held into everyone’s face. And the heads of Major and Minor families sitting together, chatting over drinks, and appearing closer than ever absolutely struck fear into their enemies.

“I think someone’s after my head, tonight,” Vegas said, deciding that clueing Kinn into whatever was going on with his mystery follower was a smart enough move.

“What?” Kinn asked, lowering his glass and leaning forward.

“I sent my men to weed them out,” Vegas said. “I don’t want you interfering. Just wanted to let you know. If I have to slip away at some point, that’s why.”

“How long?” Porsche asked and Vegas shrugged.

“Couple of weeks,” he said.

“Couple of… what the fuck Vegas?” Porsche whisper shouted at him, white-knuckling the glass in his hand.

“They’re clearly not the best at their job because I’m still very much alive,” Vegas said. “But I’m willing to give them some pointers when I chat with them. I always wanted an apprentice. Macau was never much for gore.”

“You’re not taking whoever was sent to kill you as an apprentice, Vegas,” Kinn pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Why don’t you let Arm and Pol handle this?”

“I said I don’t want you interfering,” Vegas said. “This is my issue and I’m gonna handle it alone. I’m much more creative without you looking over my shoulder, Kinn.”

“How’s the necklace coming along?” Porsche asked, a running joke between the two of them that Vegas collected the teeth of his enemies to put on a necklace.

“Missing a couple of molars to be complete,” Vegas winked. “I’m hoping my men find the person after me fast. I want to wear it to the next big event. I have just the shirt to show it off.”

“Vegas…” Kinn warned but Porsche nudged him.

“Let him have his fun, Kinn,” he said. “Look how happy he is.”

Vegas nodded and Kinn rolled his eyes.

“You two should not be allowed to be friends,” he said but let the subject go. Vegas wondered if there was anything he’d deny Porsche. Probably not.

Vegas grabbed for a bottle of gin on the table to pour himself a glass when one of his men approached him and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“We have someone in the back room waiting for you, Boss.”

Vegas’ night suddenly got a million times more entertaining.

Chapter Text

Vegas approached the entrance to the backroom with a twisted smile on his face. He was itching to draw blood and whoever this stalker he had acquired was, seemed like the perfect candidate.

Vegas could kill two birds with one stone. Or pocket knife, as it were, he thought as he ran his thumb over the blade of his favorite accessory. He could gather some precious info on whoever hired someone to take him out, and he could play with someone who deserved it.

Satisfied with the plan he pushed the door open and entered a dimly lit room. Two of his guards were standing with their backs against the wall, keeping an eye on a single figure tied to a chair in the middle of the floor.

He was dressed in black jeans and a knit, black turtleneck. His feet were stuffed into black ankle boots and the dark hair flopped over his face where his head was hung too low for Vegas to see his face.
The dim light played on the silver hoops in his ears. He didn’t seem to be armed but Vegas’ people were efficient that way. He’d have been subdued and disarmed before he even knew he’d been caught.

“Hi there,” Vegas said as he approached. He reached out with the tip of his knife and placed it under the man’s chin.

He dug a little bit into his skin and pushed his face up.

The man looked into his eyes and for a moment Vegas was struck almost stupid at just how stunning the man was. Gorgeous, creamy white skin, dark, angry eyes framed by the longest lashes, and soft-looking lips pulled into a condescending smirk.

Defiant little asshole and Vegas was digging all of it.

“Who sent you?” He asked and the man sneered at him.

“Who wants to know?” He asked, voice taking on an obnoxious, confused tone. He was blinking up at Vegas in question, the picture of innocence for a split second before the smirk was back and he looked away.

Vegas felt his hackles rise at the disrespect and he dug the blade a bit harder, not drawing blood yet, but dangerously close to it. He leaned forward, bringing his lips to the man’s ear.
He reached one hand behind him and wrapped his fingers around a handful of hair. He gripped it hard, yanking his head back.

“You’re in no position to be a smartass,” he hissed into his ear. “I have a knife at your throat, four guards to back me up, and a room full of people ready to jump at the chance to question the man hired to kill the big shots one by one. Doesn’t matter if it’s the truth or not, they’ll believe what I tell them. So I suggest you start talking. If you want to even entertain the idea of getting out of this alive.”

He backed away slowly, catching the man’s eyes again and did his best to cover up the shock when he found him completely relaxed, that infuriating smirk still firmly plastered on his face.

“I’m getting out of here however I damn well please,” the man said before his, supposedly tied hands, came to the front and before Vegas could even take a breath, snatched the knife from his hand. “I control this now.”

He trained it at Vegas' neck as he stood up from the chair, lifting his other hand in the air to reveal a small, black device with a button on it.

“There are two small but powerful bombs tied to your guards,” the man said, giving the button in his hand a perky little shake. “I control that too. Isn’t it nice to have your choice of ways to die?”

Vegas stared at the man, feeling a perverted sort of admiration for the cunningness of it all. Rarely he found someone who could outsmart him. Vegas was used to being the one ahead of the game, having all of the answers before the questions were even asked. This man stumped him before he had even seen him in person and Vegas had to admit, if he had to die, he’d rather go at the hand of someone better than him that a coward shooting him in the back from behind a wall.

He raised his hands up and tilted his head, staring at the man.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I guess you’ve won.”

The man smiled and nodded.

“I usually do,” he said, trailing the knife down and picking one button off of Vegas’ shirt. “But I’m not gonna kill you tonight.”

“No?” Vegas asked and the man shook his head.

“I could have killed you countless times before,” he said. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t the right time,” he said with an evil grin. “It has to be perfect.”

“Your employer is a perfectionist, then?” Vegas asked, running through a mental catalog of all the people who had the affinity to be melodramatic with their kills, opting for flare instead of efficiency.

“I never said that,” the man said and Vegas shrugged.

“You implied it,” he said and the man chuckled.

“I’ll leave you to give this a thought for a bit then,” he said, removing the blade from Vegas’ chest and flipping it over until it was turned so the handle faced Vegas. “You can have this back.”

“Not as smart as I thought you were,” Vegas said as he wrapped his fingers around the handle of his knife. “Handing me back my weapon.”

“You’re not gonna kill me either,” the man said, heading to the door.

“And why wouldn’t I?” Vegas asked but he couldn’t deny it even if he tried.

The man opened the door and stepped one foot out before turning around.

“Because you’re having way too much fun with this.”

Chapter Text

The man was a ghost.

Vegas slammed his phone down in frustration after another fruitless conversation with Arm, Kinn’s computer genius of a bodyguard.

If Arm couldn’t dig up dirt, or any sort of information, on the man playing games with Vegas, he didn’t know who could. They didn’t have his name, the prints they pulled from Vegas’ knife gave them nothing and the drawing of him Vegas did from memory brought nothing in terms of facial recognition programs Arm put it through.

For all intents and purposes, the man didn’t exist and Vegas was being taunted, stalked, and threatened by a figment of his imagination.

And boy was his imagination creative.

The man was everything Vegas didn’t even know he craved. He was intelligent in ways that suited Vegas, that challenged him without making him feel inferior. He was cunning and slippery, and Vegas appreciated it more than he cared to admit out loud. He was amused. He was entertained and intrigued and he wanted to see him again.  

Vegas wanted the verbal sparring as much as he wanted threats of bodily harm and knives digging into skin. He wanted to smell the man’s blood, paint with it on his skin. He wanted to own him, erase that smirk from his face and then put it right back up because it’s where it belonged.

He had no idea what it was about the man but he had consumed Vegas’ every waking moment. He couldn’t get him out of his head. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to.

The door to his office opened and Macau sauntered in, smile teasing as he took Vegas in.

“Awwww, brother, is he still not showing up anywhere? Are you pining?” Macau said as he threw himself into the armchair across the desk from Vegas and giggled like a maniac.

He should not have said anything to him. Hindsight was a bitch, as always.

“Shut up,” Vegas said and Macau stuck his tongue out at him.

“I can’t believe you’re letting a little nobody own you like this,” Macau said. “You’ve been a mess since auction night.”

“I’m not a mess,” Vegas hissed. “I’d just like to know who has a gun pointed at my head before he pulls the trigger.”

“If that’s your story,” Macau said, getting up and walking to the door. “I’m off to see Chay. We’re going to hang out with some friends.”

“Don’t be home late, school night,” Vegas reminded him and Macau nodded.

“Yes, dad,” he teased but it carried weight. Macau was always Vegas’ responsibility. He was his to take care of, his to protect, and now that their piece of shit father was gone, he was his to raise and turn into a good man.

He didn’t want Macau in the family business, he wanted him in school and picking his own future, whatever he wanted. Something their father never granted Vegas.

Luckily, Vegas was uniquely qualified to be doing the work he was doing. He liked it. It thrilled him. He craved the adrenaline and the danger of it. Macau wasn’t like that.

Vegas made sure of it.

He closed his laptop and twined his fingers underneath his chin.

He needed a plan. He needed a way to get the man to show up around Vegas again so he could learn more. Getting close to your target was the best way to get under their skin.

Vegas tapped a finger on his lips and thought about his options before one flashed before his eyes.

The fundraiser one of Kinn’s business partners invited him to. Vegas had politely declined the invite the moment it came across his desk but now that he thought about it, another event filled with big shots would be exactly what the man would be attracted to.

He pulled out his phone and texted Kinn.

Vegas: I changed my mind. I’ll join you tonight.

Kinn: Any particular reason?

Vegas: Nothing better to do.

Kinn: Porsche says you’re trying to lure the stalker out.

Vegas: Porsche talks too much.

Kinn: I’m not telling him that.

Vegas: I can do it for you if you’d like. I don’t mind the danger.

Kinn: Fuck off, Vegas.

Vegas: See you tonight, cousin.

Vegas chuckled at the lack of response and headed into his room to pick an outfit. It had to be something to draw attention, but also something he’d be fine dying in.

If he was going, he wanted to go in style. In every sense of the word.

He chose black leather pants, a silky, emerald green shirt that he left unbuttoned almost down to his waist, and his usual silver necklace. He exchanged his black earrings for silver ones and removed all his rings other than the Minor Family crest.

He felt confident.

He picked the guards to accompany him and ordered a car to be prepared for him. He was waiting to be called to head out when his phone pinged in his pocket.

He pulled it out and opened a text waiting for him there.

Unknown: You look good in green.

Vegas grinned at the text and walked over to the window. So he was being watched even in his home. Unnerving. Exciting.

Vegas: Wore it just for you.

Unknown: I figured. Is green your favorite color?

Vegas: No, red is.

Unknown: Interesting. Well since you shared something with me it’s only fair I share something with you too, right?

Vegas: I think so, yes.

Unknown: I always thought car explosions are a fun way to kill someone.

Vegas read the text just in time to see his driver pull his car for the evening in the front. The car Vegas was supposed to take to the fundraiser. The car he had decided upon only a few hours ago. There was no way he could have known Vegas would pick that car. But…he had been watching his house, he was capable. He was smart and resourceful. He was Vegas’ counterpart in every way it seemed.

Sighing he flagged a guard over and showed him the text, instructing him to scan that car and every other car Vegas owned for any explosive devices. He didn’t want any of his people hurt on the job if they didn’t have to be.

He texted Kinn he’d be late and waited. A couple of hours went by and his guards returned empty-handed again.

Hackles raised Vegas grabbed for his phone and texted the man.

Vegas: No bombs detected.

Unknown: Bombs? Why would there be bombs? My my are we paranoid.

Vegas growled at the thought of being played again but something in him ignited again at the thrill. Before he could respond another text came in.

Unknown: Oh and, have fun tonight. My invitation got lost in the mail. See you another time.

He wasn’t coming.

Chapter Text

Well, that was uneventful.

Vegas groaned as he walked into his room after a long night of fake smiles and endured ass-kissing from people he knew would rather see him dead than clink glasses with him.

Luckily, Kinn brought Porsche with him and the two spent the majority of the evening making fun of pompous asses and getting hammered at the bar. Vegas learned early on that pretending to be drunk got people around him to loosen up their tongues.

So, while swaying side to side and trying to focus his vision through half-lowered lids, he learned that one of Kinn’s partners was embezzling money from him, one of his guards was sleeping with another one of his guards, and Kinn’s baby brother Kim was absolutely trying his luck with Chay, Porsche’s brother.

Porsche was actually drunk so the information flew right over his head but Vegas remembered. And he was not above keeping it a secret until it benefited him. Friendship was one thing, and it was nice to have a friend for the first time in his life. But having something to hold over Kim’s head was actually the best. So while the night was fairly boring, the little sparks of goodness he accumulated sort of made up for it.

Only barely.

He closed the door to his room and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, letting it slip down his arms and into a pile on the floor. He’d pick it up in the morning, he couldn’t be bothered.

“You don’t need to get naked for me,” a voice sounded from one corner of his room and Vegas pulled a gun from the back of his pants, pointing it blindly in the dark.

“How did you get in?” He asked, recognizing the voice from the first spoken syllable.

“Just a little more to the left,” the man said. “You’re kind of not pointing at me right now so the whole grrr isn’t really working.”

Vegas rolled his eyes and lowered the gun completely, knowing he wouldn’t be shooting him. Knowing he’d rather risk getting hurt than ending the man before learning who he was and what made him tick.

That voice, drifting to him through darkness made his naked skin shiver. It was intense to be simultaneously threatened and turned on by someone. But it wasn’t unusual for Vegas. He was used to being turned on by violence. Except usually, he was the one inflicting it.

“How did you get in?” Vegas asked again, walking over and turning on a small lamp next to his bed.

“If I wanted to tell you I’d have told you the first time you asked,” the man said, coming out of the shadow and walking over to an armchair next to Vegas’ bed. He sat down, crossing his legs and tilting his head as he took Vegas in. “Pretty.”

“You broke into my house to sing my praises?” Vegas asked sitting on his bed, back against the headboard as he crossed his ankles. “Not that I mind.”

The man chuckled.

“Nah,” he said. “You just tried so hard to get me to show up tonight so I felt like I owed you some of my time.”

“How kind of you,” Vegas drawled.

“Right?” The man asked. “I’ve always been nice.”

“Most hired guns don’t brag about being nice,” Vegas said reaching into his bedside table to grab his phone charger. He plugged his phone in next to his head and left it there to charge.

“I’m not most people,” the man said and Vegas nodded.

“I can see that,” Vegas said. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” The man asked in return and Vegas snorted.

“You’re not gonna answer any of my questions?” Vegas asked and the man shrugged.

“I guess it depends on the question,” the man said, standing up and walking over to the bed. He sat at the foot of it, reaching out with his fingers to trail Vegas’ ankle. He looked up through his lashes and smiled. “If you ask something fun…”

“Fun, huh?” Vegas asked and smirked. “You do plan to kill me, right?”

“I mean…” the man smiled. “Why else would I do all of this.”

“So, if I’m gonna be offed anyway…” Vegas said leaning forward until he was almost touching noses with the man. He could smell him now and he liked his scent. It was fresh and citrusy. “…how about you let me fuck you before you end me.”

“That was direct,” the man said, his breath tickling Vegas’ lips as he leaned even closer.

“I’m a direct guy. I don’t like playing games,” he said and the man chuckled.

“Now that is a lie. You love games,” he said and Vegas nodded.

“When I’m working, yes,” he said. “Not in bed. I’m very open about what I want.”

He reached his arms behind the man, rising up onto his knees and caging him in.

“And what do you want?” The man asked, not showing any discomfort. He was mostly smirking still, relaxed under Vegas, meeting his challenge.

“I want to go out satisfied,” Vegas whispered, hand reaching just past the man’s thigh, and under the bed.

“Well, you’re gonna have to get someone else to satisfy you because you’re not getting it from me,” the man put his palms on Vegas’ chest and pushed, Vegas going willingly.

He watched the man hop up from the bed and head to the window.

“You won’t even tell me your name?” Vegas asked and the man turned to smile at him.

“You’ll have to find that out on your own,” he said, pushing the window open and meeting a firm lock that prevented him from going out.

“That works,” Vegas said. “You’ll be staying with me for quite some time so I imagine we’ll have time to get to know each other.”

The man’s smirk finally slipped from his face as he glared at Vegas.

“What did you do?” He asked.

“Lockdown,” Vegas said.

“I didn’t know…”

“My father was as paranoid as he was cruel,” Vegas said, sprawling back onto his bed. “Sleep wherever you want. It’s late.”

“I could kill you in your sleep,” the man said and Vegas smirked.

“But you’re not going to,” he said.

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re having way too much fun with this,” Vegas threw his words back at the man before closing his eyes. “Besides, if I’m dead the only person who can let you out is my brother, and he’s not gonna let the man who took away the last member of his family go.”

The man was silent for the longest time and Vegas smiled as he flicked the lights off.

“Sleep tight.”

Chapter Text

Vegas opened his eyes slowly, trying to stop the blinding light from burning the inside of his skull.

Why the fuck was his room so damn bright? He always had his curtains pulled closed during the night so he could wake up slowly and not be assaulted by a supernova every morning.

Fucking east-facing bedroom.

“Morning, Sunshine,” a voice drifted from somewhere in his room, loud, cheery, and even more annoying than the light.

Vegas lifted his head and frowned at the sight.

The cute menace that had been hounding his steps for weeks stood in front of one of the windows, pulling the last curtain as far to the side as it could go. The morning sun reflected on the glass and glared directly at Vegas’ face.

The little shit also got a hold of Vegas’ gun while he was sleeping. He had it trained at Vegas now, a smug little smile on his face.

“You’ll open up and let me go if you know what’s good for you,” he said and Vegas’ brain caught on finally.

He went to sit up in bed, only to be pulled back on his back by a tug on his wrist. He turned his head to check what was happening, and would you look at that? Not only did he find his gun, he also found his handcuffs. And used them to tie Vegas to his headboard.

“You know,” Vegas said with a squint of his eyes. “I don’t like being tied if it’s not for a good reason. So you either hand over the key to these, or you get your mouth on my cock. Any other option will make me very cranky.”

“I’ll uncuff you once I have my way out of here secured,” the man said and Vegas shook his head.

“Not gonna happen, Trouble,” he said. “Amusing as this is for me, you realize I will do everything I can to find out who sent you. Being on someone’s kill list isn’t as entertaining as it sounds.”

“I’m not saying anything,” the man said and Vegas pushed himself up into a sitting position as best as he could.

“You’re staying here until you do,” Vegas said.

“And you’re staying tied to that bed until you let me go,” the man said, walking over to the armchair and sitting down, gun still pointed at Vegas.

“I always get up at nine to make breakfast for Macau,” Vegas said. “If I’m not down he’ll come find me.”

“And he will find you with a gun pointed at your head,” the man said. “He tries anything funny, you’re gone.”

“And so are you,” Vegas said. “Face it. We’re in a stalemate now. One of us will have to give in. And if you ask me, it’s better if it’s you.”

“And why is that?” The man asked and Vegas smirked.

“We already established I quite enjoy your company,” Vegas said. “I’m not one to beat around the bush. You’re exactly my type.”

“You have a type?” The man asked and Vegas nodded.

“Mhm,” he said. “Pretty, sexy, unhinged, batshit crazy. You fit perfectly. So the way I see it, you give me the name, I send my men to take care of it, and then you and I can have some fun. I’ll match whatever they’re paying.”

“Just like that?” The man asked and Vegas shrugged.

“Things are only as complicated as we make them,” he said.

“Wise words from a man who fell asleep next to someone who was hired to kill him, left his gun unattended, and got himself cuffed to his own bed,” the man said and Vegas snorted.

“You have a point there,” he said. “But you also know I’m right. So how about it?”

“Forget it,” the man said. “I stand to lose much more than I do to gain if I talk.”

Vegas mulled the words over for a second before nodding.

“So you’re not being paid to off me,” he said. “You’re being blackmailed.”

The barely there shift on the man’s face told him everything he needed to know.

“What do they have on you?” Vegas asked and the man glared at him.

“You’re not getting a single word out of me,” he said and his eyes went dark and focused somewhere behind Vegas’ head.

“I guess I’m really not,” Vegas said, reaching his fingers behind the headboard and grabbing the spare key for the cuffs he kept there as backup.

He unlocked the cuffs and threw them on the bed, watching as the man tensed in the chair, fingers gripping the gun tightly.

It was the first show of weakness from him. The first tell he was actually affected by Vegas gaining the upper hand. It was exhilarating to see him squirm. Vegas reveled in it.

He got up from the bed and took one step before the man jumped up and held the gun toward him firmly.

“Don’t move,” he said and Vegas tilted his head.

“Did you really spend weeks watching me and still think I’m that stupid?” Vegas asked and got even closer. “The bullets are blanks. You’re still locked here with me and will be until you tell me what I want to know.”

“But…”

“I’m gonna go make us something to eat,” Vegas said. “The door to my bedroom lock automatically the moment I step out. There is no way out of here unless I let you go. So…think about it while I’m gone, hm? I like you, but I like being alive more.”

Vegas sauntered over to the door, turning back around to see the man fuming.

“Anything in particular you like to eat for breakfast? I’m a pretty good cook,” Vegas said and the man growled at him like a feral little animal.

“Fuck you,” he said and Vegas snorted.

“Fuck me yourself,” he said with a teasing wink before walking out of the room, feeling more excited than he had in ages.

Chapter Text

He expected to find his room trashed and ransacked for any clue as to how to get out of it. He expected to find the man going berserk, teeth bared and claws on Vegas’ neck ready to snap. He expected a fight.

Instead, he got something that made him feel like he had a functioning heart in his chest.

He set the steaming bowl of porridge on the bedside table, turning to look at the man curled up in the armchair, eyes closed and breath deep and steady.

Exhaustion got the better of him, it seemed. His cheek was smushed against the side of the chair and his hair fell over his forehead and eyes. He looked soft like that. Pliable. Like he’d let Vegas ruin him in any way he liked.

He looked like he’d smile and obey. Like he’d let Vegas have him and it was a heady feeling he couldn’t shake. Something about the man called out to the most primal parts of Vegas.

He could almost envision his bite marks on the pale skin. See the bruises from his fingers all over his body. Feel the scent of his come between his thighs and he wanted it. More than he had ever wanted anything else, he felt.

And he had wanted for a lot.

Vegas had spent his entire life lacking, wanting. And yet nothing came even close to just how much he wanted to possess the man he probably had no business wanting.

He reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead, smiling when he frowned in his sleep as if he knew the touch wouldn’t be welcome had he been awake.

God, he wanted to know him inside and out.

His phone pinged with an incoming text and he reached for it, letting the man sleep.

He’d need it, Vegas thought when he read the text, a smirk taking over his features as he sat in a chair opposite to the occupied one, crossing his legs and resting his chin on twined fingers.

He’d wake soon.

There was no need to rush anything.

Vegas had nothing but curiosity and time on his hands.

Morning hours bled into early afternoon ones when the man finally stirred and cracked his eyes open, senses on high alert the moment he realized where he was.

He jumped up into a sitting position, eyes wild as they scanned the room and found not much had changed in his hours asleep.

“There’s food for you right there,” Vegas pointed to the now cold bowl of porridge and a glass of water.

“As if I’d eat anything from you,” the man said.

“Your other option is to starve,” Vegas said with a shrug.

“So either I starve or you poison me to death,” the man said. “Decisions, decisions.”

“I just watched you sleep for about five hours,” Vegas said. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Now eat.”

He laced his words with a bit of that tone that made the boys he usually played with cater to his every whim and felt a sick rush of glee at the visible shiver that ran through the man’s body. He responded well. That was a good sign.

“Fine,” the man said, reaching for the food and scarfing it down in just a couple of huge bites. He washed it all down with water and sat back down, scowling at Vegas as if being full somehow personally offended him and Vegas was the one to blame.

“You said you were a good cook,” the man said with a scoff. “That was horrible.”

“I’d suggest trying it warm next time,” Vegas shrugged.

“Bold of you to assume there will be a next time,” the man said and shook his head.

Something about his movements seemed off. He seemed more on edge than he did at the start. He seemed like he was waiting for something, dreading something.

“You’re missing a check-in, aren’t you?” Vegas asked, and the man visibly flinched.

“Shut up,” he said.

“What happens if you miss?”

“None of your damn business!”

“I could let you charge your phone and get in touch,” Vegas said.

“Sure you could,” the man bit back.

“I’m a man of my word,” Vegas replied.

“And what’s in it for you?”

“Your peace of mind,” Vegas said with a tilt of his head. “And a tiny bit of information.”

“I’m not telling you who sent me,” the man said and Vegas nodded.

“I didn’t ask,” Vegas said. “Here’s the deal. I let you charge your phone and check in while you still have time. In exchange, you give me one piece of information. Whatever you want.”

He got up while the man was still taking his words in, heading toward the door.

“So I could tell you my favorite topping on a pizza and you’d be fine with it?” The man called after him and Vegas turned around with a smile.

It didn’t matter what he shared. What mattered was him following Vegas’ lead. Playing by his rules.

“Fridays are pizza nights,” Vegas said casually. “It’d be good to know how you want yours.”

“Friday is three days away,” the man hopped from his seat, a hint of despair lacing his words. “I can’t…”

“Can’t stay that long?” Vegas asked and he knew he was right again.

“I…”

“Tell you what,” Vegas said. “I’ll let your check in regularly. For each check-in, you share something.”

“No!” The man said. “I can’t…”

Vegas turned around, grabbing the doorknob with his hand, and opening the door.

“I’ll let you think about it,” he said before he walked out. “I think you’re smart enough to realize I’m a much better ally than I am enemy…Pete.”

Chapter Text

He had precisely eleven minutes left.

Eleven minutes to get in touch or his entire life, or what was left that he cared about in his life, would be gone forever.

Pete ran his hands through his hair, pacing like a caged lion, trying to find something, anything that looked like a weak spot in this fortress Vegas called his bedroom.

There was nothing.

The walls were mockingly solid and steadfastly closing in on him, the bed was rumpled and the soft covers looked thick enough to suffocate under.

He had no way out.

He had no way to make contact.

And he had no way to delay the inevitable.

He had to make peace with what was glaring at him at every turn.

He had lost. He played a game with the best player and he lost. Pete had put the most precious to him in danger for a chance to wind Vegas up, to get under his skin, to humiliate him before ending him.

And then he talked to him, he stared into that dark abyss that were his eyes and stumbled in head first. He wandered too deep in. The darkness closed in on him and when he finally came to his senses it was too late to go back. He didn’t know the way.

There was no other way but forward. He had to keep marching and make the best of whatever it was he found in the dark.

“Vegas!!” He called into the void, his voice echoing around the empty room, pushing back into his ears and making his head pulse.

The echo of his words was the only thing he got in response.

The clock on the wall ticked.

Nine more minutes.

“Vegas, I know you can hear me,” Pete yelled again, heart beating so fast he could almost taste every pump on the back of his tongue.

The truth was he didn’t know if he could hear him. He had searched the entire room and found no trace of any sort of surveillance.

But he found it hard to believe that Vegas would make his room and blindspot for his guards. He was too big of a target to make himself so vulnerable. He was smarter than that.

Tick.

Seven more minutes.

Pete marched to the door, fists balled and pounding at the heavy wood.

“VEGAS!!” He screamed, the fog of his breath drawing circles on the polished surface. Panic rose in him, desperate and clutching at his lungs. He couldn’t control his breathing. He couldn’t stop himself from sinking into a pit filled with worst-case scenarios.

He was on the brink of losing the last thing that mattered. And it was his own doing. He only had himself to blame.

Tick.

Five more minutes.

“Vegas!!” He called out one more time, one more pound on the door before he walked away and fell to his knees in the middle of the room.

He had his chance.

He had a clear shot of Vegas more times than he could count, and yet something in him wanted to drag it out. Something compelled him to let Vegas know he was onto him. He wanted him to know he was in danger.

He wanted him to look over his shoulder and sleep with one eye open until Pete decided it was enough and finished it.

He had so many chances.

Tick.

Three more minutes.

“You gave your word,” he whispered into his balled fists resting in his lap. “VEGAS YOU GAVE ME YOUR WORD!!”

Tick.

The door slid open with a soft creak.

Pete’s head snapped up to see Vegas standing at the entrance, smirk firm on his face, hand raised high.

There was a phone in it. Clutched tight and just out of reach.

Pete charged for it, attacking like a wild animal. Desperate and ready to do whatever it took to save what they cared for the most.

Vegas kept the phone away from him, and Pete knew it was because Vegas was still thinking rationally. He was still as calm as collected and he always was, while Pete was tearing apart at the seams.

He wouldn’t win like that.

Vegas would always be one step ahead because he knew there was a weakness in Pete now. He had a bargaining chip. Pete halted his assault, chest heaving with staggered breaths and eyes wild as they stared at Vegas.

At the phone.

At the last chance to stop something precious from disappearing.

Tick.

One more minute.

“Please,” he said, voice broken. He had nothing else to offer anymore.

“One piece of information for the phone,” Vegas said. “That was the deal.”

Pete nodded, counting the seconds in his head as they ticked. He had 47 left.

“I like mushrooms on my pizza,” Pete said finally, and Vegas curled his upper lip in a victorious smile.

Pete didn’t care.

He could gloat all he wanted. He just wanted the phone.

39 minutes.

“Information for the phone,” Vegas confirmed and pressed the phone into Pete’s hand.

He breathed out a sigh of relief, shaky hands opening the texting app and punching in the code word as quickly as he could before sending it away.

The text was delivered with 20 seconds to spare.

He waited.

He held his breath.

He could feel Vegas just next to him, standing tall and proud in the face of Pete’s defeat.

The phone pinged.

Pete looked down and sobbed softly at the responding code word meant to tell him all was good.

The shining light in Pete’s life wasn’t dimmed yet. It was still there. Too far for him to see, but just as bright as always.

He let the phone drop from his hands and slumped down to the floor again.

He knew he was crying but he couldn’t stop.

“I didn’t think I’d see you broken,” Vegas’ voice came from a distance, sounding softer than it did before.

Pete opened his eyes and looked at the man.

“And you still haven’t,” Pete said. “A moment of weakness isn’t a breaking point.”

“No,” Vegas said. “But it’s a crack in the wall. And cracks spread.”

He bent down to pick the phone up. He tossed it in the air and caught it with an amused smile.

“I’ll get this to Arm,” he said, turning to walk out.

“You won’t find anything,” Pete said. “The tracks are covered too well.”

“You mean like your name was?” Vegas asked and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Pete was left sitting on the floor, relief still cursing through his body, and adrenalin making him defiant again.

Vegas won the battle. But he didn’t win the war just yet.

Pete knew now he was a man of his word.

He had a way to get in touch.

And he had so many pointless facts about himself to share. He hoped Vegas was ready to learn which episode of Sailor Moon was the best one in his humble opinion.

He wiped his tears off and stood up.

He was not defeated yet.

Chapter Text

“Rainbow Dash is the best pony,” Pete said, holding out his hand and closing his fingers around the phone Vegas placed in his palm.

He smiled sweetly at the eye roll Vegas gave him and typed out his text, throwing the phone back at Vegas when he received the confirmation.

“Fascinating,” Vegas said and Pete nodded.

“Right?” He said, leaning back into the chair and crossing his ankles. “People always think Twilight Sparkle but nope. Rainbow Dash is the shit.”

Vegas stared at him in silence for an eternity and Pete tilted his head.

“You’re a Twilight Sparkle guy, aren’t you?” Pete said. “I totally just insulted your preferences. Not sorry.”

“You can’t play this game forever,” Vegas said and Pete hummed.

“Sure I can,” Pete said. “I’m following your rules. Tomorrow I think I’ll tell you all about Care Bears. Such a good show.”

“Pete…” Vegas snapped, eyes growing dark and menacing and Pete sat straight leaning forward and bringing his face close to Vegas’.

“What?” He asked. “Getting tired of this? Ready to let me go?”

“No,” Vegas bit through his teeth, and Pete shrugged.

“Care Bears it is, then,” he said and smirked when Vegas stalked out of the room, his anger like a cloak, swishing behind him.

Pete could understand why, too.

It’s been five days of Vegas listening to the most inane things Pete could come up with, taking it all in, and playing the game with him. He gave him the phone for every stupid thing Pete shared and as long as he kept it up, his sunshine would be bright and shining still.

Pete could manage.

He could steal time and chip at the cracks in Vegas’ walls until he wore his patience down. He could annoy him until he snapped.

An angered animal wasn’t as calculated. Wasn’t careful. Vegas in rage wasn’t the cold, calculated mastermind Pete saw every day.

And Pete would use that. He’d use the moment of enraged abandon to free himself from the prison he was in.

Vegas will be gone. Pete will be free. And his sunshine will be with him again.

He walked to the window and stared out, the rain loud on the glass, giving rhythm to his scattered thoughts.

The click of the door alerted him to Vegas’ return. Nobody else was allowed in his room, as far as Pete knew. He wasn’t sure anyone else knew he was held captive in there.

“Back so soon,” he said as he turned around, eyes going wide when he found a young man standing in the door.

He had a light blue shirt on, a pair of jeans, and white sneakers. His dark hair was swept away from his forehead and despite the slightly chubbier cheeks and softer eyes, he looked a lot like Vegas.

“Macau,” Pete said and the boy nodded, walking further into the room.

“So you’re my brother’s big secret?” Macau asked and Pete lifted his shoulders.

“Didn’t know he was keeping me a secret,” he lied and Macau snorted.

“Yes, you did,” he said, and well, genes were clearly nothing to scoff about in this family. The boy seemed just as smart as his brother.

“Clever,” Pete said and Macau walked closer, sitting down in the armchair, crossing his arms.

“There’s something I don’t get, though,” Macau said.

“What’s that?” Pete asked and Macau narrowed his eyes at him.

“What are you to him?” Macau asked and Pete held the gasp of surprise in his chest as best as he could.

So he didn’t know. Not really.

Vegas was protective of Macau. That much Pete guessed. His research even showed Macau had very little to do with the family business. For all intents and purposes, he was a regular high school student with a slightly unhinged family.

Pete could work with that.

He could use the blindfold Vegas chose to put on Macau.

“He didn’t tell you?” Pete asked and Macau rolled his eyes.

So alike Vegas.

“Clearly,” he said and Pete hummed. He walked closer and perched himself on the armrest of the chair Macau occupied.

“I guess he wanted to see where this went first,” Pete said.

“Where what went?” Macau asked and Pete smiled.

“Us,” Pete said. “We just met recently and it’s good, but…we don’t know if it’s serious yet.”

“Wait,” Macau said. “You’re dating?”

“I wouldn’t really call it dating,” Pete said, forcing himself to look sad about it. “Vegas doesn’t strike me as a relationship type of guy.”

“He isn’t,” Macau said and Pete nodded.

“I am though,” he said, letting his voice go quiet and defeated. “And I really like your brother.”

“Are you in love with him?” Macau asked and Pete had to stop himself from snorting. Ah, to be young and naïve.

“I could be,” Pete said. “If he’d let me in. Allow me to get to know him better.”

Pete got up and walked around the chair, leaning in from behind to get closer to Macau.

“He leaves me here alone most of the day while he’s gone and it’s so so lonely,” Pete said. “I wish he’d allow me to get to know his friends, his family. He talked so much about you but never let me see you. I’m glad you came today.”

Macau was so close to him, so trusting as he sat there, unaware of the fact that Pete could snap him in half in seconds if he chose to. He could ruin him before he had the chance to fight, to call for help, to scream. He could take away what Vegas treasured the most.

“I can talk to Vegas for you if you want me to,” Macau said and the feral drive in Pete died down like fire underwater.

Everyone had their own sunshine. Pete wouldn’t take someone else’s.

He was about to thank Macau when the door to the room slammed open, Vegas storming in like a god of wrath, eyes blazing as he charged at Pete and threw him away from Macau.

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!” He screamed, spit flying everywhere, the veins in his forehead popping out. His fist closed around Pete’s neck, pressing against his throat until his vision went white.

And for the first time in his life, Pete was truly terrified of someone.

Chapter Text

“Out,” Vegas hissed, eyes still trained on Pete. He could feel his throat convulsing under his fingers and he felt a sick sort of satisfaction at it.

He could feel every breath he desperately tried to pull into his lungs. And he could just as easily prevent that from happening. He could make that tightly coiled body he had in his hands go limp.

Forever.

He deserved it.

He dared to use the most important thing Vegas had as a bargaining chip.

No.

Never.

“Vegas,” Macau called but Vegas didn’t have it in him to quench the blinding rage inside him.

“Macau,” he said through clenched teeth. “Get. Out.”

He squeezed Pete’s throat harder, knuckles turning white as he held him against the wall. Macau seemed to realize it wasn’t the time or the place to argue with Vegas. He scuttled out, closing the door behind him.

Leaving Vegas alone with Pete, and the animalistic need to hurt him.

“You made a huge mistake, Pete,” Vegas said, his own voice sounding foreign to him. He had tortured and killed more people than he could count and yet he never felt this out of control.

He wanted to maim. He wanted to rip apart.

He wanted Pete to regret ever setting eyes on Vegas.

He stared him down, teeth bared and blood boiling in his veins.

“Macau was off limits,” he whispered, relishing in the look of terror that crossed Pete’s face. He shrunk back from Vegas, all the spirit and sass drained from him in a split second.

His eyes grew wide and focused, his pupils blown and the pulse under Vegas’ thumb running wild. He was a cornered animal and he knew it. The game was over.

“Ve…Veg…” he tried, throat constricting and struggling in Vegas’ grip. He shook his head when words got stuck in there.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Vegas punctuated each word with a feral squeeze on Pete’s neck, feeling his knees buckling and holding him up to stop him from sliding down the wall. “You have talked too much. I allowed you too much. And it was fun. You were fun. It’s done now.”

Using his other hand, Vegas pulled Pete by his hair, yanking him forward and down until he was kneeling on the ground at Vegas’ feet.

“No…” Pete shook his head again, hands coming up to scratch at Vegas’ hands, trying to pry them away from his body. His skin broke and blood trickled down, smearing over Vegas’ fingers and Pete’s neck.

He liked it.

The red looked good on pale skin.

It was the wrong shade of red, though.

He dug his nails in, paying back the favor when he felt Pete’s skin give under the sharp press. A drop of blood mingled with his own and he growled at the sight of it. Spurred by it.

The wetness under his palm made his grip harder to maintain and his hand slipped an inch.

“I wouldn’t,” Pete used the moment to say, voice rough.

“You wouldn’t what?” Vegas hissed, pulling Pete’s head back until he was looking him in the eye.

“Hurt him,” Pete said. “I wouldn’t…”

“I don’t believe you,” Vegas said. “You came too close. You thought about it. I could see it in your eyes you already had an image in your head of him hurt. Used to get to me.”

Pete shook his head again and Vegas pulled back to slap him across the face.

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” He screamed. “Macau was never a part of this and you knew it. This sick game was between you and me. Because we can handle it. Whoever lost the world would keep fucking going without either of us in it. We’re a plague, Pete. Rot. Decay. Macau isn’t.”

“I know…” Pete said, tears falling down his cheeks and Vegas wanted to bathe in them.

“You wouldn’t have touched him if you knew,” Vegas said, pushing Pete until he sprawled on the floor. “The game is over. You won’t be making your check-in tomorrow. You’ll stay here and I’ll come back just before you’re supposed to check in to watch your time run out. I’ll watch the seconds trickle down, Pete, and I’ll love every moment of watching you agonize over it.”

“No…” Pete cried, horror written all over his bruised cheeks and dark eyes. Fuck but he was beautiful even broken.

“It didn’t have to end like this, Pete,” Vegas said, turning to walk away.

“It doesn’t,” Pete said, grabbing for Vegas’ ankle and tugging him back, holding him in place. “Vegas, it doesn’t. I wouldn’t have hurt him, I promise. Please…”

Begging.

Oh, but he loved when they begged.

“It’s too late now,” Vegas said, crouching down and running his finger over Pete’s hair. “You already saw Macau broken in that twisted little mind of yours. It’s an image that never should have been seen.”

“Vegas…” Pete said again and Vegas drank in the hitches in his breath, the desperation in his voice, the fear in his eyes.

He was feeding off of it.

“No, Pete,” he said, standing up. “Nothing you say will get you out of this. You dug your own grave, trying to dig mine.”

He stood up again, stepping out of Pete’s grip and heading for the door. He could hear him crawling after him. Trying to catch up. Trying to plead and beg and change his mind.

None of it would work.

“Tomorrow,” he said gripping the knob. “This ends tomorrow.”

“Vegas…” Pete called, collapsing on the floor behind him. “He’s my Macau. You’re taking away my Macau. Please…”

Vegas froze, hand gripping the cool metal as he turned back slowly.

“What did you just say?” He asked and Pete looked up, his tear-stained face turned gray with despair.

“I’ll tell you,” Pete said. “I’ll tell you everything and you can kill me after but please, don’t let them hurt him. Promise me.”

“I don’t have to promise you anything,” Vegas said and Pete nodded. Folding his hands in front of his chest and clasping his palms together.

“My life for his.”

Chapter Text

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed around the room. It felt like nails hammered into Peat’s skull. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands were trembling wildly.

He scooted back and away from Vegas, the fear still a living, breathing thing inside his chest. He stuffed his hands under his thighs, curling up on the floor, not daring to look up.

Vegas wasn’t human, Pete thought. There was nothing inside him that resembled a human and it terrified him.

For all he bragged about knowing Vegas after trailing him for months before making contact, he truly had no idea. Vegas was an unknown. A mystery that was just a step away from taking everything away from Pete.

It was hard to hope.

Almost impossible to think telling Vegas the truth would absolve Pete of what he had done. But he had to try. If there was even a glimpse of a possibility Vegas would save his sunshine, he had to try.

“Talk,” Vegas hissed and Pete flinched at the sound of his voice.

No more teasing, no more smirks, and flicks of his eyebrow. Pete chanced a look up and balked at the glare he got in return. The hatred was almost palpable between them. Vegas didn’t hate Pete when his own life was on the line. He was amused. Entertained. He was eager to play and he made it so fun.

But Pete fucked up.

He crossed and line and touched what he shouldn’t have touched. The guilt he felt eating him up inside was the least of what he deserved for what he entertained doing. He deserved whatever Vegas chose to do to him, too. He wouldn’t resist as long…

“Promise me,” he whispered and Vegas snarled, rushing at him and folding his body over Pete’s.

“You have no right to make any demands!” Vegas said loudly, twisting Pete’s insides until they were raw and aching.

“Please,” he said anyway. He had to try. “He has nobody else.”

“Who?” Vegas asked and Pete screwed his eyes shut.

Please. Whoever was listening just, please. Make Vegas care.

“My brother,” Pete said and the silence that fell over them was deafening.

Pete could hear Vegas’ staggered breaths above his head. Vegas’ hand was braced on the wall throwing shadows on Pete’s folded knees.

“Another bullshit and you’re done,” Vegas said and Pete snapped his head up, shaking it left and right.

“No,” he said. “I’m telling the truth. He’s one, he’s all I have…please.”

He reached out and gripped the leg of Vegas’ jeans in his fist, knuckles turning white as he pulled at it.

“Vegas, please,” Pete said. “You can do anything you want to me. Torture me, kill me, I’m good with anything just please…save him.”

Vegas’ clothes rustled as he lowered himself down to sit in front of Peat. He stared at him intently, hatred replaced by curiosity.

“You have a brother?” Vegas asked and Pete nodded, lifting his arm to run the sleeve of his shirt over his tear-stained face. “And he’s one?”

“Yes,” Pete said.

“Big age gap,” Vegas said, tilting his head in that way Pete learned to mean he was doubting his words. Assessing the information. Scenting for deception.

“My parents had me young and he was a surprise,” Pete said. “They…they both died in a house fire just weeks after they brought him home.”

“Where is he now?” Vegas asked and Pete knew he had no other choice but to spill and hope Vegas would find a slither of kindness for a child.

“He’s with Gun Sukkasem,” Pete said. “He took him from me to get me to kill you for him.”

Vegas fell silent, the vein on his neck pulsing with concealed rage. He lowered his head to stare Pete right in the eye.

“Well, you failed,” he spat, standing up and heading for the door.

Dread locked around Pete’s heart and he rushed up and forward, running after Vegas and pushing himself between him and the door.

“NO!” He yelled at him, knowing he looked deranged but he didn’t have it in him to care anymore. “Please, Vegas…he’s innocent. He’s a child.”

“And so is Macau,” Vegas said and Pete allowed the shame to wash over him.

“He is,” he said. “He is and I’m sorry. Vegas, I’m sorry. I was desperate. I just want Venice safe.”

“Venice?” Vegas asked and Pete nodded wildly.

“It’s his name,” he said. “He’s just learned to walk and he can say Pe when he calls my name. He’s smart and sweet and doesn’t deserve to be…to be gone before he had the chance to become himself. Kill me. Vegas, kill me but don’t let Gun hurt him.”

He reached out and clasped Vegas’ hands in his, squeezing as hard as he could.

“You’d kill for Macau,” he said and Vegas looked at him, teeth bared.

“I would,” he said. “And I will.”

“You’d die for him too,” Pete said and Vegas nodded.

“I’d kill for Venice. And I’d die for him. I will die for him,” Pete said. “We’re the same, Vegas. Protecting those we love. Venice is all I have. And I’m all he has but…he’s young enough to forget me. He can grow up with you and Macau, he can learn from you. You never have to mention me to him. He doesn’t have to know I existed. Erase me. Just keep him safe.”

He held Vegas’ eyes head-on, just like he did when they first met. The fear was gone. His life mattered less and less as moments trickled by. He was done and ready to go. Vegas could off him in any way that would please him.

He just needed to hear the words from Vegas’ mouth.

He just needed the guarantee that Venice would be safe.

“Vegas…”

“I’ll make my decision before your next check-in,” Vegas said finally. “I’ll be back ten minutes before that to let you know. Either you send that text, or I watch you as time runs out.”

He ripped his hands from Pete’s grip and pushed him away from the door, stalking out and leaving Pete to curl back on the floor.

Seven hours.

And he’d count every second of them.

Chapter Text

“So, you two aren’t dating?” Macau asked, perching on an armrest of a chair opposite the one Vegas was sitting in.

“No, Macau, we’re not,” Vegas said and Macau smirked, sliding sideways into the chair like he was made of jelly.

“Why not?” Macau asked. “He’s cute.”

Vegas glared at him, bile rising in his throat. Pete wasn’t cute. He was a hired killer who almost hurt his brother. Nothing about that was cute.

Except for the fact that everything about Pete appealed to Vegas and he found him incredibly sexy. That spoke volumes on how fucked up Vegas actually was.

He ran a hand over his face and groaned.

“He’s not cute,” he said and Macau snorted.

“Whatever you have to say to yourself, bro,” he said and Vegas sighed.

“I actually have some work to do, so if you could go be a nuisance somewhere else, that’d be great,” Vegas said and Macau stuck his tongue out at him.

“Fine,” he said. “Chay invited me out with him and Kim anyway. Kim will introduce me to his drummer.”

“Macau!” Vegas warned but his brother was already on his way out.

He stopped at the door and turned around.

“Just so you know,” Macau said. “He wouldn’t have hurt me.”

He waltzed out before Vegas could respond and Vegas was, once again, left with his own thoughts.

Thing is, he actually agreed with Macau.

He knew people capable of horrible things.

Hell, he was people capable of horrible things.

He could recognize the darkness inside others. He saw the potential to harm in people he worked with. The desire to do it, even. Unprovoked. Unprompted. Just because you wanted to.

He didn’t see that in Pete.

He saw potential, sure.

Pete was dangerous in his own right. He had proven that before and there was a reason Gun wanted him to do his dirty work.

But the desire wasn’t there.

Pete would hurt. Without second thought. Given the right reason.

Venice.

Vegas sighed thinking of a small boy, trapped somewhere unfamiliar. With people he didn’t know. Away from the only family he had. Depending on his brother giving up a part of what made him human by taking another’s life. Just to save him.

He imagined him crying.

Scared.

Waiting.

He imagined Macau in his place.

It made something wilt and die inside of him.

He picked up his phone and dialed, waiting for a response.

“Vegas?” Kinn picked up and Vegas settled deeper into his chair.

“How close are we to raiding Sukkasem’s compound?” He asked and Kinn hummed.

“We put that on a backburner for now. He’d been strangely quiet lately so we didn’t want to poke at him,” Kinn said and Vegas rolled his eyes.

“He’d been quiet because he’s waiting on his paid gun to end me,” Vegas said and heard the moment Kinn took him off speakerphone and actually held his phone to his ear.

“What?” He asked and Vegas confirmed.

“I have the man he sent for me trapped in here,” Vegas said.

“Alive?” Kinn asked and Vegas had to admit the question did make sense.

“Yes,” he said.

“And in one piece?” Kinn asked and…okay. Fair again.

“For now,” he said and Kinn chuckled.

“So you want to move forward with the plan to neutralize him?” Kinn asked and Vegas rolled his eyes.

“Neutralize? Have you been talking to Kim too much?”

“He’s in charge of the logistics for the raid. We all just picked up his terms for this,” Kinn said.

“Pompous jackass,” Vegas said.

“But the best at this kind of thing,” Kinn said. “I told him to hold off and he’s been good about it. I think Chay is keeping his mind off it. But he’ll jump at the chance to inflict some pain.”

“And that’s why he’s my favorite cousin,” Vegas said and Kinn snorted.

“Don’t let Khun hear you,” he said, taking a pause before continuing. “I’m guessing you’ll want in?”

“Absolutely,” Vegas said. “He put a price on my head, Kinn. I don’t like that.”

“No, I don’t imagine you would,” Kinn said. “Well, if you’re sure, I’ll talk to Kim when he’s back from his date.”

“Thank you,” Vegas said before hanging up and crossing his fingers under his chin.

He didn’t expect his time with Pete to turn out the way it did, he truly didn’t.

Pete made it seem like they’d have some fun before one of them ended the other. None of this was fun. Innocent lives were on the line and Vegas didn’t like that.

He was a monster.

He was raised to be one. Forced into being one.

But he revered life.

Especially life that deserved to be preserved.

Like Macau’s.

Like Chay’s.

Like Venice’s.

He couldn’t do much to get himself out of the mess his father raised him into. He was enfolded and interwoven with it so much he didn’t know who he was outside of it. If he was anyone outside of it.

But he could make sure who he was didn’t cost someone else their life.

Decision made, he got up from his desk and checked the time.

Fifteen minutes until check-in time for Pete.

He stalked through the house determinedly, walking to his room in just under a minute, opening the door, and finding himself face to face with desperation personified.

Pete stood just in front of the door, eyes wild and wide, bottom lip bitten red and a drop of blood crusted in the corner of it. He looked lost.

“Vegas…” he called out, trembling hands reaching out to him and Vegas thrust his hand in his back pocket, fingers closing around the cool plastic of the burner phone he allowed Pete to use.

He pulled it out and left it lying on his open palm, facing Pete.

“Check in,” he told him, watching as he grabbed for the phone, breath stuttering as he typed out the text and halting completely until the confirmation text came through.

“Thank you…” he breathed out, a tear sliding down his cheek. “Vegas, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Vegas said. “We still have to bring him back.”

Chapter Text

Pete stared at Vegas in shocked silence for what felt like hours. His surroundings shrunk down to the echo of Vegas’ words and the smirk painted on his handsome face.

Vegas would save Venice. He’d go get him. He’d make sure he was safe.

The relief that washed over Pete was unlike anything else he had ever felt before. His knees gave out and he dropped to the floor, head bowing down on instinct as he laid his palms on top of Vegas’ shoes.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, chest heaving and lips trembling. “Thank you.”

He broke down in tears, feeling them wash away the anxiety, the stress, and the fear he had lived with since the moment Venice went missing. Every waking hour was spent worrying about him. Every night was plagued by nightmares of Venice being hurt. Gone. Taken from him.

And now it was over.

Pete had no doubt Vegas would succeed. Someone like Gun had no chance against Vegas and his family. If Gun had thought he could have taken care of Vegas on his own he would have done it. But he was smart enough to know he wasn’t smart enough.

And now he’d pay for it. He’d die because of his greed and stupidity, and Venice would have a chance to grow up with a family that took care of him, that kept him safe. If Vegas grew to love him as much as he loved Macau, Pete had no doubt Venice would thrive.

“Thank you,” he said once again looking up and wiping his tears. He was ready. “I know I have no right to ask for anything else. But if you’d let me see him…”

He trailed off.

That wasn’t the deal.

Pete said Vegas could kill him if he just accepted to save Venice. Vegas held his end of the bargain. Pete had to hold his own.

He’d hold the memory of Venice and the knowledge that he’d be safe close to his heart. It would have to be enough.

He shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, standing back up and looking Vegas straight in the eye. “Whenever you want.”

Vegas looked back with a tilt of his head and a quirk of his eyebrow.

“You’re something else, Pete, you know that?” He asked and Pete frowned.

“Maybe,” he said. “But that doesn’t matter, now.”

“I disagree,” Vegas said and Pete let out a humorless snort.

“Of course, you do,” he said. “Kind of a theme with the two of us isn’t it.”

He ran a hand over his wet face and wiped the last of the tears. He wouldn’t cry. Not for this.

“Seems to be,” Vegas said. He reached out and Pete flinched when his hand connected with Pete’s cheek. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Vegas’ palm cupped Pete’s cheek and he ran his thumb under Pete’s eye, collecting tears from his lashes. He pulled back and sucked the thumb into his mouth.

“I thought I’d enjoy it more,” he hummed when he pulled his thumb out from between his lips. “I thought I’d relish the taste of your pain. But I don’t.”

“That’s because you didn’t inflict it,” Pete said and Vegas shrugged.

“Maybe,” he said. “We’ll never know, though.”

“What?” Pete asked and Vegas shook his head.

“I might be a monster, Pete,” Vegas said. “But only when people make me be one.”

“I wanted to hurt Macau,” Pete said.

“He doesn’t think so,” Vegas responded. “And neither do I, once the rage settled.”

Pete watched as Vegas circled around him until he was standing with his chest pressed against Pete’s back. Pete could feel his presence in his bones. His breath lingered on the back of his neck and his fingers skimmed over Pete’s waist.

What the hell was happening?

“You did act stupid,” Vegas said, voice dangerously low and plucking at every tightly coiled string in Pete’s body. “And you will be punished for it, eventually. But first, Venice needs to be brought back to safety.”

“When?” Pete asked and Vegas walked back to stand in front of him.

“As soon as Kim gives the green light,” he said.

“Your popstar cousin?” Pete asked and Vegas smirked.

“I thought you did your homework better,” Vegas said. “Kim is a lot of things. But a mere popstar, he is not. If you think I’m insane…you should meet Kim. He’d like you.”

“I doubt anyone in your family would like me,” Pete said and Vegas chuckled darkly.

“Macau does,” he said with a shrug. “And I don’t...dislike you, exactly.”

“High praise,” Pete found it in him to sass.

“You don’t deserve more at the moment,” Vegas said turning to leave. “If we don’t act before your next check-in, I’ll be back with the phone. If we do…I’ll be back with your brother.”

Oh, but that sounded like the best thing Pete had ever heard in his life. It emboldened him. It gave him wings and made him push for more.

“Can I come?” Pete asked, halting Vegas in his exit. “When you go against Gun, I can help. I know his compound. I know his security well enough.”

“So do we,” Vegas said. “Between Arm and Kim, we know more about that man than he does.”

 “I can be an asset,” Pete said again and Vegas narrowed his eyes.

“You can also be a liability,” Vegas said. “You can be a liar and none of what you said about your life is true.”

“No…” Pete tried but Vegas shook his head.

“No need to explain,” he said. “Just because I chose to believe you, doesn’t mean I trust you. You’ll stay here until we’re back.”

“But…”

“You’ve pushed enough, Pete,” Vegas said. “Settle down. Wait. Behave.”

Pete opened and closed his mouth several times but something in those words, in that tone made him deflate and stand down. Venice didn’t need him pissing Vegas off again. He could behave for Venice.

He looked up at Vegas and found him staring at him, curiosity shining in those eyes the color of the abyss.

“Good boy,” Vegas said, and whatever he saw in Pete at those words, made a smile bloom on his face.

A smile that shook Pete to the core.

Chapter Text

“I didn’t take you for a sentimental guy,” Kim said as they stood hidden in the shadows of a tall wall separating the alley from the back entrance to the Sukkasem compound, waiting for Kinn to give everyone the signal to go in.

“I’m not sentimental,” Vegas said using his knife to scratch his jean-clad knee. “I just don’t like people hurting children.”

“Didn’t take you for a child lover either,” Kim said and Vegas smirked.

“Just because I’m not dating one…” Vegas said and Kim’s eyes darkened.

“Chay is nineteen,” he said. “Mention him again and I’ll make myself gloves out of your skin.”

“Touchy…” Vegas tsked, back straightening when Kinn’s voice drifted through his earpiece.

“Vegas, Kim…you’re on Venice duty. According to Arm, they have him in the last room of the east wing. We’ll clear the way for you two,” he said and Vegas looked to Kim who gave him a short nod.

“Ready when you are,” Vegas said, gripping the handle of his knife tighter in one hand and pulling his gun into the other.

Next to him, Kim brandished two custom-made, beautifully engraved guns, a feral smile on his face.

“Go time,” Kinn said and Kim growled a little as they rounded the tall wall, watching each other’s backs.

Vegas could hear the soft thuds of bodies hitting the ground and while he wanted to remain rested and unbothered until they got to Gun, he did feel a pang of envy for not being in the thick of things.

“9 o’clock,” Kim warned taking down two guys that managed to creep up on them.

Vegas rotated in the shown direction quickly, getting the bastard right between the eyes.

“Nice one,” Kim said and Vegas nodded.

“Thanks, been working on my headshots,” he said and Kim snorted.

They managed to get to the entrance of the house through a river of red and sprawled bodies, meeting Porsche at the back door.

He was carrying his trademark black sniper riffle, nodding at them and pointing to the set of stairs.

“Job and Big cleared the staircase and are flanking the hallway on both sides,” he said. “I’ll stay here to keep guard.”

“Kinn?” Vegas asked and Porsche smiled.

“Getting the civilians out, the bleeding heart.”

“Someone had to get a humanity gene in the family,” Kim said and Vegas snorted.

“Let’s head up,” he said, leading the way.

They climbed slowly, meeting Big and Job at the top of the stairs. The two guards were surrounded by several bodies but people kept advancing from the adjacent hallways.

“We can barely keep them away,” Big groaned, firing several shots into three oncoming guards, dropping them only for them to be replaced by several more.

“Allow me,” Kim said, squeezing by and virtually throwing himself into the fray, his movement pure poetry.

Vegas watched him taking over the hallway, hands flying and guns blazing as he fought his way toward the door they needed. He round-kicked a burly guy that came up to him from his right, dislodging him enough to shove a gun between his eyes and splatter his brain on the wall.

Another guard rounded the corner of the hallway, gun pointed at Kim who used the dead guy as his shield, shooting at the newcomer through the freshly made hole in the dead guy’s head. He went down like a bag of bricks and Kim was left standing in the middle of the carnage he created, hair falling over his face.

He dropped his human shield and pushed his hair back, turning to Vegas.

“Your turn, cousin,” he said.

Vegas stormed through the hallway, gun positioned in front of him as he kicked the door in. The aged wood splintered under his boot, rattling against the wall.

It revealed a middle-aged man, sitting in an armchair, arms crossed over his chest, zero weapons to be found on him as he smirked at Vegas.

“Young master Theerapanyakun,” Gun said sweetly. “What a pleasure it is to meet you.”

“Can’t say the same,” Vegas said, entering the room completely, trusting Kim to have his back if anyone decided to join the party late.

“No, I imagine you couldn’t,” Gun said. “I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances but…”

“Well, I’ve been informed the alternative was you paying respects at my funeral so you’ll forgive me if this is more my vibe,” Vegas said. “Now, where is Venice?”

“Ah…” Gun nodded. “I should have known Pete would fail. His father was right, he is useless.”

Something ugly simmered in Vegas’ chest at those words. He could hear them in the voice of his own father. Could hear them aimed at Vegas. Could feel them cut.

“Venice, Gun,” Vegas said. “I’m not here to chat.”

“Yes well, here’s the thing,” Gun said. “I know you and your cousin aren’t known for your mercy. I’m aware you’ve come to kill me. So I decided to make things very, very hard for you.”

He stood up and walked over to a gigantic oil painting behind him, running a hand over it and pressing a small, pink flower in it. It swung open, revealing the entrance to what seemed to be a massive safe.

“Venice is in there. All alone,” Gun said. “The password changes every ninety seconds and only I have the access to it.”

“Interesting,” Vegas said.

“Isn’t it?” Gun asked. “I had it custom-made.”

“Not your safe,” Vegas said. “Interesting that you’ve decided to make things very, very hard…for yourself.”

He pulled his gun and fired, aiming for Gun’s left forearm. He caught the flesh just enough to flay a piece of it, leaving the bone almost completely exposed.

Gun wailed and collapsed to his knees, gripping his gaping wound.

“It’s not gonna help…” he bit through clenched teeth. “You can torture me all you want I’m not saying a word.”

“We’ll see about that,” Vegas said, walking over to him and hoisting him up, planting him back into the armchair.

He crouched down next to him, motioning for Kim to hold him down.

He turned the tip of his knife toward his arm and dug it into the wound, pushing until he felt the bone underneath.

Gun’s screams were like music to his ears as he slowly, painfully slowly carved a small V into the bone.

“V for Vegas,” he sing-songed. “V for Venice.”

“Fuck you…” Gun screeched, screams still echoing around as Vegas spread his artwork down his arm, tracing lines in pale flesh, splitting the skin open.

“Fancy a round of tic-tac-toe, cousin,” Vegas asked and Kim nodded.

“Sure,” he said and Vegas took great care in drawing a perfect little grid for them to play with.

He was just placing the first X into the bottom left square when Kinn barged through the door.

“Vegas…” he warned and Vegas looked up, leaving Kim to figure out how he was gonna draw his symbol. Fucking served him right for not carrying any blades on him.

Kim chose to shoot Gun through the middle square. Vegas looked at him and he shrugged.

“Bullets are round, so this counts,” he said and Vegas couldn’t really argue with that logic. Gun was still screaming and trashing around and it was, quite frankly, getting on Vegas’ nerves.

He carved out another X in the top left corner of the grid.

“Stop playing with your food, children,” Porsche strolled in. “Right babe?”

“Exactly,” Kinn said. “Vegas, you know he’s not gonna tell you the password.”

“I do,” Vegas said, anticipating the next shot from Kim to stop him from winning.

“And you know damn well Arm cracked the password like ten minutes ago,” Kinn said and Vegas nodded.

“I sure do,” he said, smirking when Gun looked up with wild eyes. “Not so cocky now, are we?”

“No…please no…” he gurgled.

“But this is so much fun, isn’t it?” Vegas asked and Kim nodded.

“I’m having a blast,” he said, aiming his next shot right where Vegas assumed he would.

“Kim, if you shoot him again I’m telling Chay,” Porsche said and Kim froze.

“You wouldn’t,” he said and Porsche nodded.

“I would, and I will,” he said. “Stop it.”

Kim groaned and got away from Gun who sighed in relief, looking at Porsche.

“Thank you…oh thank…”

“Kill the man and let’s get the kid out of here,” Porsche said.

Vegas got up as well, reveling in the desperate fear in Gun’s eyes as he raised his gun and shot him in the heart.

“You used to be fun,” Vegas said to Porsche as they waited for Arm to bypass the password and open the safe.

The large metal door creaked open and Vegas walked in slowly, heart breaking at the sight of a tiny baby boy, curled up in a corner, face wet with tears.

He looked up at Vegas, terrified and trembling. Vegas was ready to find a way to bring Gun back to life so he could finish his game with Kim.

He approached the boy slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves.

“Hey little one,” Vegas said. “You don’t know me but I know your brother, Pete.”

The sound of that name triggered something because the boy widened his eyes.

“Pe…” he said softly and Vegas nodded.

“Yes,” he chanced his luck and lifted the boy into his arms. “Let’s go see Pe.”

Chapter Text

He didn’t think time could move so slowly. Like an eon went by between two ticks of the small clock on Vegas’ nightstand.

He didn’t think his limbs could feel so heavy either. He paced, but each step was an effort. A conscious struggle against whatever force was trying to hold him in place. Like he was walking through molasses.

His brain wouldn’t turn off. The inside of his skull was pulsing and screaming at him to just DO SOMETHING.

But there was nothing.

He was locked.

Caged still and all he could do was pace, and scream silently, and wish it would all be over soon. Wish his mind would stop throwing the worst imaginable scenarios his way. Wish it would stop mocking him with the possibility of Venice and then ripping it away leaving flayed skin and exposed flesh in the wake of it. Wish he could either hold his brother in his arms again or beg Vegas to just finish what they’d started. Because there was no living for Pete without Venice there. There was nothing without Venice.

The clock moved again, debilitatingly loud.

Pete winced.

How long were they gone?

Hours, days?

He had no idea.

He picked crescent moons in his forearms with his nails. They colored red where he broke skin.

Angry red.

Blinding.

Seeping when he pulled his nails away and let it drip down. He watched it travel, red taking over the milky white. He blinked and a drop cascaded down, the saltiness of it biting into one of the moons. He hissed, reaching to dab it with his sleeve.

Before the fabric could soak it up, he realized the sting of it cleared one tiny corner of his mind. The part that trusted Vegas could do what he promised he would.

He reached his finger and ran it under his eye, collecting a few drops and bringing them to the crescent moons with intent. He pressed the tears into them as deep as they’d go, the fog in his head thinning with each sharp twinge.

Vegas promised.

Vegas promised.

Vegas promised.

The sting helped keep his head above the quicksand. The pain helped him refocus on time passing better than that achingly slow, achingly loud clock ever could. The burn kept him afloat.

Until the key turned.

Until the door opened.

Until his head snapped up and his eyes met Vegas’ dark ones.

They looked proud. They look victorious. They looked smug and Pete never wanted them to look any different because a smug Vegas was a Vegas that won. Vegas that kept his promise.

Vegas that brought back…

“Pe…” that tiny voice. That beautiful, angelic voice that only knew how to say a few words, but Pete’s name was one of them and he was calling him now.

Against the pain, and the molasses, and the forces trying to keep him glued to the spot, Pete pushed himself off the floor and stumbled blindly toward his brother.

He registered the moment Vegas released Venice’s hand and allowed him to waddle the few steps still standing between them and collapse bodily into Pete.

Pete collapsed back onto the floor and wrapped long hands around his tiny body, feeling how small he was, how much weight he lost, how he was trembling.

He buried his face into his fluffy hair, fighting past the rancid stench to get to that comforting baby scent Venice still carried on his skin. He lifted him off the ground and placed him onto his lap, wrapping himself around him completely.

A shield against the world.

The very thing he failed to be when Gun came for their little family. He’d never forgive himself.

He cradled Venice’s head in his palm, smearing the blood from his forearms onto the dirty shirt he was wearing. The same one he had on when Gun took him.

Pete would burn it. He’d buy him a new one. He’d buy him everything he pointed his finger at.

He’d spoil him rotten in whatever amount of time he had with him. Vegas said Pete would be punished. And he was ready to take it. But he’d embed his love into Venice’s skin. He’d overflow him with it so it grew with him. So he was drowning in it now, and he’d be covered in it as he grew. So it would stretch with his skin and fit him in every moment of his life. Pete would be there. One way or another.

“I love you,” he whispered into his soft hair. “Pe loves you so much. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”

He sobbed and held onto Venice desperate to keep him. He didn’t want to let go. He refused to break contact.

What if his mind was playing tricks on him again?

What if Vegas never even came back?

What if Venice wasn’t truly in his arms?

He folded his arms further around his sunshine and dug his nail into his skin again, the sharp sting pulling him back to reality where Venice was now slumped in his lap, deeply asleep as his exhaustion caught up to him.

The reality where Vegas was standing above him, watching them.

Watching him.

Dark eyes unnervingly soft as they bore into Pete’s.

The reality where Pete didn’t run the show anymore.

He didn’t think he ever did.

Not against Vegas.

“Thank you,” he whispered and Vegas nodded his head.

“Put him to bed,” he said, voice leaving no room for objections. The tone of it making Pete tremble. “Macau sent for our family doctor to come over and check him over.”

Pete gripped Venice tighter, his little treasure chest. His biggest prize for being alive. He cradled him softly as he stood up, carrying him over to Vegas’ bed and wrapping him up in softness, in comfort, and warmth.

He slept on.

Calm exhaustion etched onto his tiny features.

Safe.

Venice was finally safe.

Pete turned to Vegas.

He looked him right in the eye and realized Pete wasn’t. Safe, that is.

Not with that abyss calling out to him.

Not when he wanted to respond to it.

Not when he didn’t know what any of that meant now that the game was finally over.

Chapter Text

“We should talk,” Vegas said after what felt like hours of just looking at Pete.

He sat next to Venice on the edge of Vegas’ bed while the boy slept.

His face was reverent. He’d reach out every second or two to touch a lock of his hair, his tear-streaked cheek, his little palm curled under his chin.

Yet he’d never make contact. He’d linger just close enough to feel the warmth of the boy’s skin, to assure himself he was there. And then he’d retreat, pulling his fingers tight inside his fist and tucking it under his thigh, only to repeat it again and again and again.

Vegas could see the struggle on his face. The tension in his body. He could almost feel the mix of emotions pouring off of Pete and while he didn’t think he could name them all, some of them he recognized clearly.

The love for Venice was keeping him glued to the boy’s side.

The uncertainty was making his movements jerky and slow.

The guilt was painting his features ashy gray.

The fear was in the tremble of his fingers and the width of his pupils.

And the broken skin on his forearms was from trying and failing to control all of them. Alone.

Something about those etches on Pete’s skin wouldn’t leave Vegas alone. Something about the self-inflicted pain burrowed itself under his hard exterior and wouldn’t come out.

Something about Pete…

“Let him sleep and come with me,” he issued an order and Pete’s shoulders tensed, hunched forward and up.

“I don’t want him alone,” Pete said softly. “We can talk here.”

Vegas tsked at the disobedience and walked closer, wrapping his hand around Pete’s upper arm.

“I have guards right outside this room, and I brought him back to you,” he said tugging Pete to his feet. “I wouldn’t risk my life and the lives of my cousins just to have something happen to him now.”

Pete allowed himself to be pulled up, eyes never leaving the sleeping boy in Vegas’ bed.

“Pete…” Vegas called.

“Hm…” the man responded without breaking eye contact with his brother.

“Look at me,” Vegas said, voice low and raspy, and the body underneath his touch trembled.

Pete’s dark eyes met his and there was so much there, Vegas could barely breathe from it.

“Nothing will happen to him,” Vegas said, taking a step and tugging Pete after him.

He wouldn’t budge.

His feet dug into place and he resisted Vegas’ pulls as best as he could. Vegas could see his chest rising and falling with quick, heavy breaths and his eyes clouding over with tears.

“Pete…”

“Can I say goodbye?” Pete’s whisper cut him off, his voice breaking on the last words like waves against a shore.

 Vegas sighed and walked back, standing firmly in front of Pete. He reached out with his hands and cradled Pete’s head between his palms.

“Why would you be saying goodbye?” Vegas asked and Pete closed his eyes.

“We had a deal,” he said and Vegas shook his head.

“I never accepted a deal with you,” Vegas said.

“You brought him back,” Pete replied.

“He’s a baby, and he got caught between shitty people and their shitty games,” Vegas said. “I’d have brought him back regardless.”

“But…”

“Nothing,” Vegas said. “This martyr act of yours stops now. I’m not gonna kill you. You’ll live and you’ll be with your brother.”

He let the information settle, let it take root before taking Pete’s hand and giving it another tug.

Pete went easily.

He followed him out of Vegas’ room for the first time since he crashed into his home. Uninvited. Unannounced. Unpredictable.

And yet, Vegas wouldn’t change any of it.

He led him to the end of the hallway and into his office, closing and locking the door behind them.

He folded Pete into a plush chair in front of his desk and walked to sit behind it. He crossed his fingers on top of his desk and tilted his head as he observed the man in front of him.

Now that the threat was gone and his life wasn’t on the line anymore, Pete was just another person Vegas liked the look of.

Gorgeous, deep dark eyes, soft hair, slim, tall body.

He was exactly his type.

But it was more than that.

Pete was a challenge.

Pete wasn’t afraid of Vegas.

Pete was an equal in every way Vegas deemed important.

And an exact opposite in that one way that mattered the most. Vegas dropped his eyes down to those mangled forearms again and bit his lip.

He needed to be hurt.

He needed the sting of it. The bite of it.

Vegas could recognize it.

And he could deliver it. He knew how.

Because as much as Pete ached to be hurt, Vegas felt the same ache to be the one to inflict that pain.

Not to punish. Or just for the sake of hurting someone.

But to set Pete free. To send him flying. 

Pete just had to let him.

“I want you to work for me,” Vegas said finally, knowing that the easiest way to Pete was to just show him what he could offer.

And to do that he needed him close.

“What?” Pete asked and Vegas lifted his crossed fingers up to rest his chin on top of them.

“Gun is gone, so are most of his goons,” Vegas said. “But that doesn’t mean he was without allies. Partners. They’ll crawl out now that he’s out of the picture.”

He watched Pete swallow heavily before his face hardened.

“I’ll take Venice far away from here,” he said. “They’ll never find us.”

“You could do that,” Vegas said. “Take that boy on the run and spend your life hiding, moving constantly, looking over your shoulder.”

Pete bit his lip and looked away.

“That’s no life for a little boy,” Vegas continued. “The Theerapanyakun family can protect him. He’s off limits if he’s one of ours. Just like Macau is. And Chay.”

“Chay?” Pete asked and Vegas nodded.

“Kim’s partner,” he said. “Nobody is allowed to even look at him wrong, because it makes Kim angry. And making Kim angry is a surefire way to get yourself killed. I have the same reputation.”

“I know…” Pete said and Vegas nodded.

“I know you do,” Vegas said. “You have the skills to do this job well. And you doing this means Venice gets to grow up in luxury, safe and set for the best life he could possibly have. You’d be stupid to turn it down. And I know you’re not stupid.”

Pete mulled his words over.

Vegas could almost hear the cogs in his head turning, the pros and cons stacking up until he looked up at Vegas again.

“What would I have to do?” Pete asked and Vegas allowed a smirk to take over his features.

“Whatever I order you to do.”

Chapter Text

“Venice, baby, no,” Pete warned as he saw Venice reaching for a stupid looking, but probably expensive as hell, vase that stood on the bottom shelf of a very fancy-looking shelving unit in Vegas’ living room.

Venice had been back with him for two weeks now and their lives were noticeably different. Different as in…better.

Pete was allowed to leave Vegas’ room now, for one. Him and Venice got their own rooms. Venice’s was attached to Pete’s but he wasn’t using it yet. They both needed to be close and reassured they were back together. Nightmares plagued their dreams still, but…waking hours, surprisingly, seemed to be calm and relaxing.

He was allowed to meet other people and introduce himself as Vegas’ new employee because that’s what he essentially was. He hadn’t been asked to do anything yet and it bothered him a little bit but Vegas just said to sit tight and he’d call him when he needed him. Until then, he was getting paid to…exist. It wasn’t a bad deal at all.

Venice took to their new house with all the grace a toddler could muster. Meaning he didn’t care at all where he was as long as Pete was there and he had other people fawning over him.

By other people, Pete mainly meant Macau who took to having a baby in the house as if he was born for it. He adored Venice.

“Leave him alone,” Macau said, taking the vase and putting it on the floor in front of Venice. “Thing is ugly as he….ck.”

“He…” Venice repeated dutifully after his new hero and Pete frowned as he watched him get his grubby little fingers all over the thing.

“Language, Macau,” Pete said.

“Heck isn’t a bad word,” Macau argued, and Venice, while not fully understanding the conversation, clearly picked up on their tone and wanted to get involved.

“Yeah!” He said to Pete and Pete sighed.

“I’m being ganged up on by a toddler, and a slightly larger toddler,” he said and Macau stuck his tongue at him, followed by, no surprise there, his devoted fan Venice.

“Macau, don’t ruin the kid,” a voice came from the arch leading into the living room and Pete whipped his head around to find Vegas standing there, watching the three of them sitting on the floor.

Pete felt something stir in the pit of his stomach at the sight of him. Vegas was…he was everything.

Pete didn’t have the time to think about it before. When everything he cared about was at stake he didn’t have the time to think about Vegas as a living, breathing person. To think about who he was beneath the image he portrayed to everyone else. To think about why he hadn’t killed him the million times he could have or why he tried to find a way out of it.

He told himself it was because he wasn’t a killer and he refused to become one but he knew he’d do anything for Venice.

So why then?

Looking at Vegas at that moment brought it all back.

The intense hit of attraction when he first saw him. His dark hair pushed back off of his sharp face, cunning eyes taking in every detail around him. Sharp tongue and whip-quick mind. The body that promised a lifetime of both pleasure and pain, depending on what you wanted.

Or what you deserved.

What he thought you deserved.

Pete saw him, and he wanted.

He craved Vegas.

Love trumped cravings though. Every time.

Pete chose Venice. As if there was ever a choice.

“I’m not ruining him, we’re buddies, right Venice?” Macau asked and Venice nodded in agreement, eyes wide and adoring.

“Yeah,” he said again and Macau offered him his palm to high-five.

“See,” Macau said to Vegas. “He loves me.”

“He does, actually,” Pete said to Vegas. “At this point, I’m pretty sure he’d sell me for a chance to spend time with Macau.”

“’Cau,” Venice said and Macau beamed.

“He can say my name now,” he said and Pete watched Vegas walk further into the room, shocking him when he crossed his legs and sat down on the floor with them.

“Can you say Vegas?” Vegas asked Venice and to his credit, Venice actually contemplated it for about five seconds.

“No,” he concluded and sent Macau roaring with laughter.

“Oh my god, bro, your face,” Macau said pointing at Vegas. “He totally told you to eff off.”

“Eff,” Venice parroted and Pete groaned.

“Stop teaching him curse words,” he whined and Macau threw his hands in the air.

“Eff isn’t a curse word, it’s literally a letter,” he said. “I’m teaching him the alphabet. Can you say D, Venice?”

"Dee," Venice repeated. 

“That’s it,” Pete said. “I’m restricting your access to the impressionable tiny human. You can see him every other day in complete silence.”

“Nooooo,” Macau howled dramatically, eyeing Venice’s reaction to his antics.

Venice didn’t disappoint.

“Nooooooooo,” he howled back and chucked himself sideways, sending the vase tumbling. It rolled over the carpeted floor, hit the very edge of the table leg, and fell neatly apart into two large pieces.

Pete watched the ruined antique in horror, painfully aware of the silence that fell upon them.

“Well, fuck,” Macau said.

“Macau!” Vegas warned before Pete could.

“Fuck,” Venice repeated and Pete threw his hands in the air.

“That’s it,” he said scooping his brother into his arms. “Macau…you’re grounded.”

“Fuck…” Venice said again and Vegas snorted before controlling himself and biting his lip to stop himself from laughing.

“I’m gonna kill both of you,” Pete said.

“Kill,” Venice said and Vegas nodded proudly.

“You’re gonna make a great Theerapanyakun one day, Venice,” Vegas said.

“We’re leaving,” Pete stalked toward the front door, hoping the large garden around the house would be enough for Venice to burn some energy.

The little brat clearly understood the context this time because he turned to look over Pete’s shoulder and waved his hand at Macau and Vegas.

“Bye-bye,” he said.

“Be good, Venice,” Macau threw after him.

“No,” Venice said just to get the last word in.

Pete was absolutely done. And it was only eleven in the morning.

Chapter Text

“Be ready to roll out in an hour,” Pete nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Vegas’ voice.

He had just put Venice to bed and was ninja-ing his way out of the room to try and not wake him up. Venice had trouble sleeping since he had been back and Pete wanted to try and establish a normal routine for him again, where he could just be a happy, carefree child.

“Fucking shit,” Pete hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna put a fucking bell on you.”

“Collars? Kinky,” Vegas said, voice pitched low and those dark eyes roaming Pete’s body as if they owned him.

Fuck…they probably did.

Pete couldn’t remember when was the last time he had slept through the night without dreaming of Vegas. Of the two of them together.

It was driving him insane.

And despite his little innuendos here and there and the looks he threw Pete’s way, Vegas was showing exactly zero interest in him. Where at first, he had offered sex at every turn, since Venice came back, it just completely stopped.

He still got dangerously close to Pete. So close Pete would feel his breath on his neck and the strength of his chest against his back. And then he’d pull back.

He’d look at Pete like he did at the start. Dark eyes filled with fire and want as they roamed Pete’s body. And then he’d look away.

He’d talk about pinning Pete down, tying him up, marking him. And then he’d laugh it off and change the subject.

And Pete would have been fine with that.

He had his sunshine back.

He had a stable job and a good income to spoil Venice a bit.

He felt safer and calmer than ever before.

He would have been fine with Vegas not wanting him anymore.

He would have been fine if it wasn’t for the fact that he wanted Vegas so much it literally ached.

“Where are we going?” Pete asked to stop himself from sinking to the ground in front of Vegas and begging. For whatever he was willing to give.

“Stake-out,” Vegas said, handing Pete a yellow folder. “There’s a new drug circling around the clubs and I didn’t really give a shit about it until a few nights ago.”

“What happened a few nights ago?” Pete asked flipping through the folder.

Photos of tiny vials filled with clear liquid, lists of clubs and people selling in those clubs, lists of side-effects and the potential harm the drug caused. Looked like some nasty shit from what Pete managed to glance at before Vegas responded.

“They were caught selling in my club,” he said and Pete had to stop himself from shivering at the ice in his voice.

Vegas was…surprisingly pleasant, once you got a chance to spend some time with him outside of his work. He was smart, incredibly so. He was also funny and shockingly, really good with kids.

Well, he was good with one kid. Venice.

And Pete didn’t know if his traumatized, one-year-old brother was a good judge of character.

But at work, or when he was feeling crossed…it was like someone flipped a switch and all resemblance to humanity just shut down inside him. On a job, Vegas turned into a cold, merciless executor and Pete both feared and craved it.

“Ah,” Pete said, closing the folder. “And we can’t have that.”

He said it jokingly but something flashed in Vegas’ eyes at those words.

“No, we can’t,” he said, stepping closer to Pete and wrapping his fingers around the edge of the folder, the tips touching the inside of Pete’s wrist.

His skin was scalding and Pete was sure Vegas could literally count his heartbeats, his heart was drumming so strongly.

“Not if we’re not getting anything out of it but a bad reputation,” Vegas said, and why was his voice suddenly so gravely? Why was it slipping under Pete’s barriers and running over his skin like hot water?

Why was it making him shiver?

“Right,” Pete swallowed, eyes never leaving Vegas’.

They were standing so close now, the folder slightly bent between them and for the millionth time, Pete allowed himself to hope.

He could almost taste Vegas. Could almost imagine how good he’d feel pressing Pete down.

White hot pleasure curled in the pit of his stomach, tendrils of it reaching down, around his hips, and sliding between his thighs. He felt his lips part slightly to allow short, staccato breaths to escape. The fingers holding the folder shook and dark spots danced in the corners of his vision.

Vegas hadn’t even done anything to him yet. He just stood close and allowed their skin to brush and Pete was done for.

He was ready to be his. Ready to just belong to Vegas.

And then Vegas pulled back.

He took the folder with him and turned his back on Pete.

“One hour,” he threw over his back, waving at Pete with the folder. “Pack something warmer to wear and some food. This could take some time.”

The echo of his steps grew distant and Pete slumped against the wall, chest heaving and disappointment roaring ugly inside him.

He felt rejected.

Again.

He knew he didn’t offer anything to Vegas but he still felt like Vegas pushed him aside and told him no.

He didn’t like the feeling.

He didn’t like the shame of wanting him so much and not being wanted in return. He didn’t think he could cope with the fact that Vegas clearly knew and used it to play with Pete when they were getting so good at being respectful to each other.

He didn’t want to be toyed with.

And yet he knew he was lying to himself.

Because there was nothing he wanted more than for Vegas to take him and play with him.

Chapter Text

Vegas hated stakeouts.

They were boring, they took forever and a day, and the worst part was that you couldn’t even be sure they’d pay off. Sometimes nothing happened for days on end. Sometimes they just stared at something for hours and then went home without a single piece of information to show for it.

It was maddening.

Vegas opted out as often as he could.

He wasn’t the head of the minor family for nothing. He had guns, knives, and a well-practiced “I’ll end you” look that allowed him to send people to do stuff he couldn’t be bothered with.

And yet…

There he was.

Thursday night.

In a shitty black car they used to blend in with the sketchy parts of town, with hours ticking away so very very slowly.

Vegas could have sent Pete with someone else.

He could have ordered him to finally start earning the paycheck he was giving him and bring him intel.

But…

Spending hours on end in a confined space with someone who was so very clearly so hungry for his cock he could barely stand upright seemed like an amazing idea.

Pete was squirming in his seat since they parked and turned the car engine off. He plastered himself to the door, putting as much space between them as he could muster without merging himself with the metal.

“I don’t bite, you know,” Vegas said after the silence stretched a bit too long.

Pete threw a glance at him over his shoulder and opened his mouth to respond, only to choke on the first word and shake his head as he looked away again.

Vegas smirked. He knew full well what he was doing.

He knew where Pete and him were heading. He just refused to make the first move. Pete was his employee. He was indebted to Vegas in so many different ways and Vegas refused to make use of it. If Pete wanted him, he’d have to be the one to cross that line.

He’d have to erase the boundaries between them and tell Vegas what he wanted.

Vegas’ moral code was maybe weird. But it existed.

And while it forbade him from crossing the line, it absolutely did not forbid pushing Pete toward it.

He leaned across the center console, suppressing another smirk when he heard Pete’s breath hitch at the closeness.

He made sure to brush the back of his palm against his knees as he opened the little compartment in front of Pete and pulled out a pack of gum.

Pete’s legs shook under his touch and Vegas made a show of pulling back, breaking contact only when he absolutely had to.

He opened the gum and popped a piece into his mouth.

“Want one?” He asked and Pete shook his head. Vegas noticed he slipped his hand down his thigh and rubbed the place Vegas had touched just seconds ago.

Fuck he wanted to ruin him. He wanted to feel those long legs wrapped around his hips as he drove into him.

Come on, Pete. Just give in.

“So…um…what are we hoping to get from this?” Pete asked instead and Vegas wanted to groan.

He threw his head back against the headrest and shrugged.

“Anything,” he said. “Whoever runs the operation is clearly very smart because they’re keeping their traces very well covered.”

“Smarter than you?” Pete asked and Vegas rolled his head to the side to look at him.

“You think I’m smart?” He asked and Pete rolled his eyes.

“You know you are,” he said and Vegas broke into a smile.

“What else do you like about me?” He asked and Pete coughed, shaking his head.

“Who said anything about like…” he croaked through his coughs and Vegas huffed.

Fuck it. If he was pushing, he’ll be pushing properly. Subtle clearly did nothing for Pete.

“You just said I was smart, Pete,” Vegas said. “Don’t make me play dumb and pretend I don’t see the way you look at me.”

“What…I…I don’t…” Pete stammered before clicking his mouth shut and looking away, lips pinched into a tight line.

He was strung tight, shoulders pushed high around his ears and fists clenched in his lap. Every cell of his body screamed with tension and repressed need and Vegas couldn’t help but notice.

He couldn’t help but want to release him from it.

“You’re allowed to,” he said finally and Pete snapped his eyes back to his.

“What?” he asked and Vegas huffed.

“If you think you’re not allowed to be into me now that you work for me, you can forget about it,” Vegas said, licking his lips and letting his eyes trail over Pete’s body. “I very much encourage workplace relationships.”

Pete blinked at him, chest rising and falling quickly with how fast he was breathing and Vegas realized the car windows fogging up, cutting them off from the outside world.

It did nothing for their recon mission. But it made the air around them thick and sticky and Vegas would take a shivering Pete over a fucking stake-out any day.

“But…you never did anything,” Pete said finally.

“I encourage relationships, that is true,” Vegas said, reaching his hand out and trailing the tips of his fingers over the back of Pete’s balled-up fist. “But I don’t let myself start them.”

“Why?” Pete whispered and Vegas felt the gooseflesh rising under his touch.

“Because I know how I am,” Vegas said. “I know what I like to do to my lovers. And I want them to want it too. I want them to need it.”

Pete sucked in a breath when Vegas pressed his thumb against the protruding vein on his hand. He knew it stopped the blood flow to the fingers. Knew it made them tingle.

He looked up to see Pete’s eyes widen and his tongue slip out to wet his lips.

“And how…how do you know if they do?” Pete asked and Vegas smiled, pulling his hand back and folding himself back into his own seat, leaving Pete shaking next to him.

“They have to tell me they do.”

Chapter Text

Pete swallowed around the lump in his throat, feeling his entire body burn from the inside. His skin was breaking out in goosebumps and sweat, heart beating so fast he could hear it drum in his ears.

The blood rushed back to his fingertips when Vegas released the pressure on his vein and he felt them tingle, felt them shake before he folded them into a tight fist.

He wanted to stop himself from reaching out when his very soul was clawing at his ribcage, pushing and demanding and screaming at him to go to Vegas. To ask.

He wanted to ask for so much. Wanted Vegas to give him so many things he was deprived of.

But he didn’t deserve it. Not when his actions hurt Venice. Not when he tried to kill Vegas. Not when his parents would be so fucking disappointed in him. The guilt he carried inside him daily threatened to swallow him whole.

“One word, Pete,” Vegas whispered from next to him and his voice edged into the cracks in Pete’s walls.

He wanted.

He couldn’t deny that he wanted. And he had never found anyone who could give him the things he craved. Punish him in a way that didn’t mean hatred or resentment. Hurt him in ways that left him clean afterward. Make him bleed in ways that cleansed and renewed. Vegas could break him apart with the sole intention of making him whole again and Pete wanted.

“Just one,” Vegas said and Pete broke.

“Please…”

“Yes,” Vegas hissed, and the next thing Pete knew was the feeling of Vegas’ hands on his body.

Vegas reached over and yanked Pete until he was sitting on his lap, long legs framing Vegas’ hips.

Pete wanted to wrap his arms around his neck to ground himself, to convince himself it was real, but they were held firmly behind his back. Vegas’ long fingers gripped his wrists, tightly enough Pete knew he’d bruise. He reveled in it.

He wanted the imprint of Vegas’ fingers on his skin. He wanted others to see.

He felt a red-hot flash of MINE in his core and he needed everyone to know Vegas was the one that branded Pete. Vegas claimed him. Vegas owned him.

And then lips were crashing into his. Warm and slightly chapped, but better than anything else Pete had ever felt. They were invasive. Parting Pete’s until he was gasping for air. Vegas was running his tongue over Pete’s lips, slipping it inside his mouth forcefully, inviting him to play but not allowing him to at the same time. Like he wanted Pete to know he wasn’t the one in charge. Like he wanted to test him to see just how far he could push.

Pete let him. He needed it. Just the way Vegas was doing it.

One of his hands left Pete’s wrists and Pete wanted to whine at the loss of it until he felt those long fingers around his neck. Pressing against his pulse point. Squeezing just enough to make him feel every breath he took. Just enough to make it harder.

Make him harder.

He tried to stop himself but failed as he rolled his hips down into Vegas’ lap, desperate to feel his cock against his ass.

Vegas broke the kiss the moment he felt Pete move.

“Oh, Pet,” he said, smirking. “I don’t remember allowing you to do that, do you?”

Pete gasped for air, chest rising and falling, throat convulsing against Vegas’ fingers. He tried to speak but his voice betrayed him. So he shook his head. Desperate to appease Vegas. To make him do more. To make him move again. Kiss him again. Anything. He was so hard. So desperate for it.

“No?” Vegas asked and Pete shook his head again, making Vegas smirk. “Exactly. And if we’re doing this, it’ll be by my rules.”

Pete opened his mouth to speak but Vegas clenched his fingers around his throat again, making him swallow his words. His entire body was trembling. He was reduced to a pile of need and want in Vegas’ lap and he knew something inside him should have been ashamed of it. But the way Vegas was looking at him, the sound of his voice, and the burn of his hands on Pete…it all made it so he didn’t care.

“Granted, I haven’t given you the rules yet, but…I do take training my pets very seriously,” Vegas said. “You’ll listen. And you’ll learn. Won’t you?”

He nodded.

Vegas smiled.

Pete’s insides turned into goo at the sight.

He did good.

“Of course you will,” Vegas said, sliding the hand on Pete’s neck up to his cheek, cupping it, his thumb pressing against his bottom lip. “You’re gonna be my good boy. Make me so proud, right?”

Pete nodded again.

Hungry for that smile again.

Aching for those words to be aimed at him.

“I knew you’d be perfect for me,” Vegas said, leaning in until his lips were a breath away from Pete’s. Until Pete felt the heat radiating off of them. Until he was sure he would taste him if he just dared to slip his tongue out. Just a little bit. Just a sliver and he’d have Vegas lingering on his taste buds again.

He caved.

And then he was back in his seat again, head spinning, mind reeling as he turned his head to look at Vegas, lip trembling, body aching.

“Why…” he whined and Vegas smiled. Patient. Unmoved. Calm as if having Pete shivering in his lap meant nothing.

“Because you did something you weren’t allowed to again,” Vegas said. “So now you get to sit there and actually do what we came here to do.”

“But…”

“Pet,” Vegas warned. “When we get home and get enough sleep, you and I are sitting down to talk about everything. But until then…you gave me permission. You said please like a good boy and that means you now listen to me. So you’ll sit there, watch the damn entrance to make sure nothing happens, and if you sneak one peak at me in the next hour, there will be consequences.”

“And if I don’t?” Pete asked and Vegas gripped his chin, turning his head toward the spot Pete was supposed to look at.

“Good boys get rewards,” Vegas said. “Always.”