Chapter Text
Vegas was still on bed rest when everything happened.
Recovery was a slow and painful process, one that he would have preferred to do in the quiet of his own residence but his uncle insisted that he do it at the ‘family’ home (Vegas had never and would never consider the place his home). Now along with recovery came a deep sense of paranoia that seeped into every thought. He refused to allow Pete or Macau to go anywhere outside of their wing without someone he personally trusted accompanying them.
(Pete rarely left his side so he only worried when Pete went off with Porsche. He didn't worry that Porsche would do something to Pete, he worried that Porsche was blind to their family and wouldn't protect Pete if the need arises.
He was terrified every time Macau left his sight. If he could have, he would forbid Macau from leaving the wing without Pete. He only trusted Pete with Macau because he knew his uncle wouldn't hesitate to rid himself of the loose ends, but he couldn't do that to Macau. He couldn't suffocate his brother to keep him safe. That meant he could never breath easy until both of them were back in his presence).
With the light streaming in from the window, he tried to concentrate on his book but the pain medication had begun to wear off. A dull throb had started to pulsate from where the bullets hit. While he recognised that he was fortunate to have survived, it didn’t make the pain any less. If it wasn't for Pete he would have surely died, he's not sure how he had managed to keep him but he thanks everything that he did.
The nurses should be by in an hour or so, which meant Pete would be back soon. Pete had forbidden the administration of any medication without his presence the second they were forced into the compound. Protests by the medical staff had been met with a wall, Vegas being no help as he had easily agreed to Pete's demand. He knows if the situation was reversed he'd be demanding the same thing.
Hearing the door click, he puts down his book expecting to see either his lover, or possibly his brother even though he should have still been in class. His uncle comes around the corner instead. Vegas is thankful that he isn't hooked up to the heart monitor because it would have given him away instantly. Forcing himself to sit up straighter he tried to coax the mask his father had crafted for him, ignoring any pain. He keeps his hands flat against the bed spread.
“Uncle.” He greeted.
“Vegas, I'm glad to see you are awake.” His uncle was a man he never liked being in the presence of. His father had been a man of few words but serious action, if Vegas had displeased him he would simply chuck the nearest thing at him. His uncle was not like that, instead like a viper waiting to strike. Words sharper than glass and a mind playing a game of chess at all times. Vegas knew when his uncle looked at him only seeing a pawn to use.
His uncle took the chair next to the bed, Pete's seat, crossing one leg over the other. Vegas tries to recall the last time he had been around his uncle alone, his father had largely prevented it. In the silence Vegas wonders now if it was because his father wanted to prevent his uncle from turning Vegas against him or to prevent his uncle from killing him. Regardless, Vegas can't help the apprehension as his uncle makes himself comfortable.
“How are you feeling?”
Vegas curled the hand opposite his uncle into a fist, “I'm doing well.”
“Have the staff been kind to you? I wanted to bring in some of my personal ones but your boy insisted on those formally employed by your father.”
He hated how his uncle reduced Pete in that way. As if Pete hadn't spent literal years serving this man with his life.
“They're fine.” He took a steadying breath, “is there something I can do for you Uncle?”
“Can a concerned uncle check in on his nephew?”
No, is what Vegas wants to say, not you.
“My apologies uncle.” Is what he said instead, his pride has already been crushed to a dust, and miss behaviour will possibly direct punishment onto Cau (or even Pete).
“I had hoped to stop in to see you at the hospital but duties kept me busy.” Duties was a way to phrase it, though it would be better to call it a hostile takeover of the minor family. Macau had explained after Vegas had fully returned to lucidity that somehow Porsche of all people had been given the role of head of the minor family. It hadn’t shocked Vegas, instead leaving a bitter taste of betrayal in his mouth and a cold dread as he realised they no longer had protection.
“I would not have been good company.”
His uncle nods, “Well at least now you’re safe here.”
It was almost shocking that his uncle wasn’t struck dead for such a bold face lie, Vegas would be safer in enemy territory. At least they would have the decency to shot him on sight.
“Thank you for the hospitality.”
His uncle nods, looking satisfied as Vegas played nice. He tilts his head to the side and a look crosses his uncle’s face, “I did want to ask you something,” he leans forward slightly. To anyone else he looked like a concerned uncle, to Vegas he screamed danger, “Since the incident, no one can seem to get in contact with Vie, and I was wondering if you have heard from her?”
Vegas blinks, and then blinked again. His stepmother? In truth Vegas hadn't seen the woman in close to a year, she tended to make herself scarce when he was around after an incident involving Cau. He rarely thought of the women.
He shook his head, grateful that he didn't have to lie to his uncle. Instead he gets to watch his uncle lean back in his seat, his face a mask of calmness. Vegas knows it's a mask because his father had the same one, for as much as Korn and Gun tried to distance themselves they were still brothers. Something he embraced with Cau.
He wanted to ask, to question why on earth his uncle cared about his stepmother, it wasn't like his father particularly cared for the women. She was a gold digger, and her advantageous looks had secured her the spot next to his father in bed, but nothing really more. Vegas firmly thought the women had the intelligence of a five year old child, and the temperament to match. He didn't ask though, because his uncle could use any opening to his advantage.
His thoughts are interrupted when the door banged open and he has barely a second when Macau's voice rang out, “Hia, I'm bac-” His brother's voice died when he saw their uncle, his eyes widening as he gripped his school bag.
“Macau. How is school going?” Their uncle greeted.
“Fine.” His eyes darted to Vegas, and Vegas acted fast.
“Cau, Uncle Korn and I are talking. Can you go bother Pete instead?”
It works on two levels, it gets his brother out of their uncle's radar and it will alert Pete to what is happening. Cau gives a small nod before darting out of the room.
He meets his uncle’s gaze head on, there is no flinching allowed. Everyone who has been around Vegas long enough knows that Macau is his weak spot, it's something his father was never able to rid him of. How could he? Vegas had all but raised Cau, the little gremlin was one of the only good things in his life.
One of the only people who saw the good in him.
His uncle can scheme all he wants but the minute he thinks about touching Macau, Vegas will shoot him point blank. Maybe his uncle recognized this as his gaze easily slid away from the spot Macau had occupied and back onto Vegas.
“If I hear from Aunt Vie, I will let you know uncle.” He promised, knowing full well after everything Aunt Vie has probably fled the country.
“See to it,” his uncle placed a hand on Vegas's covered leg, “I am worried about her.”
He wants to smack his uncle's hand away but knows better. Instead he gritted his teeth, giving a nod. He's not sure what his uncle wanted with his stepmother, and frankly he did not care.
His uncle's smile tells him he did not do a good job hiding his emotions. He pats Vegas's leg as he rose from his seat. “Oh and Vegas. Once you're feeling better, I would love to have a family dinner.”
“Yes uncle.”
Breathing comes easier when he hears the door latch shut. He gets one, maybe two, minutes to breath before the door is thrown open. Pete comes around the corner in a graceful rush. Years of service has instilled a control in Pete over his body, even panicking he moves with nothing but full intention.
“Are you okay?” He forgoes his chair (good since Vegas thinks they'll need to burn it) and props himself on the side of the bed. One hand touches his face, eyes scanning over him for any visible sign of injury. “Cau said Khun Korn was here.”
Macau comes in at a much slower pace, his fingers twisted in the straps of his bookbag. The joy from earlier has been replaced with the look of a terrified rabbit caught by the predator.
“I'm fine, uncle didn't do anything.” He patted the spot next to him, “Cau come here.”
Macau doesn't hesitate to drop his school bag on the ground and climb onto the bed next to him, curling up into Vegas’s side.
(Vegas had barely been awake for a minute when he demanded to know where his brother was. He had secured Macau in a safe house, with everything he would need should their father's attempted coup go wrong to get out of the country and start a new life. That had been in case Vegas had not made it, and he had. When he had woken up to Pete and Porsche staring down at him, panic had seized him. Porsche had been the one to run off and Vegas would have ripped the wires out, because Porsche was compromised by Kinn and Kinn was part of the main family. If Macau was alone, then he could easily have been killed. But his brother had tumbled into the room seemingly moments later, pale and exhausted, but very much alive.
The doctors stated multiple times that Vegas should not be jostled while the wounds healed. Vegas had ignored it because the bruises under Macau's eyes were deep. When they moved him to the family compound, still under strict bed rest orders, he had requested the largest bed they could find. During the first couple nights it allowed both Pete and Macau to sleep next to him, Vegas guarded on both sides by the people he loved. By now Macau slept in the adjoining room, Pete keeping vigil each night.)
Now as Macau plops his head on Vegas's lap, Vegas's fingers automatically combing through his wayward strands, he feels nothing short of relief. His brother doesn't hesitate to be near him, a sign that he did one thing right.
“What did Khun Korn want?” Pete asked, linking their fingers together.
“He wanted to know if I had been in contact with Aunt Vie?” He admitted, there was no point in hiding anything from these two people.
Macau's head popped up, “Why would he want to know where she is? Why would we know where she is?” He turns his head to stare at Vegas, “Do you know where she is?”
He huffed a laugh, pushing Macau back down, “No I don't, and I don't know why Uncle Korn would want to find her. Honestly I don't care, if that bitch got herself into hot water then she can deal with it.”
Macau curled in just a little tighter, and Vegas knows he's thinking of the last time they saw her. Blood had been involved. He shifted to get into a better position but it pulled at his stitches, a pained sound coming out before he could stop it.
“Are you okay?” Pete's hand is gentle where it touches.
“I’m fine.”
Pete takes absolutely none of it, pulling out his phone. Vegas doesn't have it in him to protest as he called the medical staff, not with Macau's warm weight pinning him to the bed. It was like moving a kitten after it fell asleep.
***
As the medical staff administers hia's pain medicine, Macau shifts slightly back. He watched as Pete gently coaxed hia to lie down, never once telling Macau to get away. The opposite actually happened, Pete pushed Macau down next to Vegas ensuring they were both tucked in before moving away.
Hia's eyes were dropping as he tracked Pete around the room. Macau didn't know how his brother and Pete came to be an actual item, but he's grateful for the former bodyguard. He makes Vegas happy, and he doesn't care that Macau clings to his brother like a kola.
Pete continued to straighten up the room as the brothers laid in seeming peace.
Macau doesn't know why his Uncle Korn wanted to find his stepmother but he knows something that his Hia doesn't. An address outside of the city, a former safehouse that no one in the family remembers as it was purchased under a non-affiliated name. One that he knows is currently occupied.
He doesn't want to see Aunt Vie, but he's not sure if he wants Uncle Korn to find her either.
***
Chay is still not picking up his calls and it is slowly driving Porsche insane. He's sure one wrong word will have him snapping like a dry twig.
Everything has gone completely and utterly wrong.
He had joined the mafia because he needed to protect Chay, the only part of his life that was worth anything. He didn't mean to fall for the mafia prince, to get dragged into a family feud so deep rivers were running with blood, to learn the truth behind his parents murder. To learn his mom was alive.
To lose Chay.
He tilted his head back until it rested against the padded cushion of the booth he was currently occupying. Kinn was… somewhere. His voice could be just picked out over the thrum of the room, playing mafia prince with other high power players. Porsche wasn't good at this kind of thing, he was crass, acting long before he thought, and wore his emotions plainly on his face. Why Uncle Korn thought putting him in charge of the minor family was a good idea, he did not know.
He didn't want this, but what Korn Theerapanyakun wanted he got. Regardless of fallout.
Vegas was probably seething in the wing he was recovering in, rightfully jilted over his birthright. Porsche hadn't seen the other mafia prince since the day he woke up in the hospital, Pete all but throwing himself between them and Vegas. At least Pete was still willing to meet with Porsche for lunch, the smallest of wins.
“Hey.”
He opened his eyes to see Kinn slide in next to him. His lover was undeniably gorgeous, something that Porsche had been aware of since minute one. He was a feast for the eyes, especially now as he was dressed to impress, the lines of his suit extenuating his powerful body. The colour bringing out the undertones of his skin, all to be devoured by the eye. But only for Porsche to touch.
He smiled, lifting a hand for Kinn to grab. It became clear early in their relationship that Kinn was a tactical person (not to say Porsche wasn't). In places like this Kinn liked to touch Porsche, at first he thought it was out of possessiveness, a need to claim Porsche. It kind of was, in part, but it was more for Kinn to reassure himself that Porsche was there, that he was safe. Porsche gladly allowed Kinn to grab at him, especially as it reassured him that Kinn was safe.
Kinn looks down at Porsches abandoned phone, “Chay?”
“Still not answering.” Porsche called his brother twice a day, every day. He knows he should give his brother space after everything that happened, but he can't. Even with updates from guards they assigned to ensure Chay was safe, it wasn't enough. Until he could see Chay in person, nothing would be enough.
“He'll come around,” Kinn whispered, “he loves you.”
Porsche was very aware that love was one of the most lethal things in life. It was love that had him joining the mafia, it was love that had him coming back to Kinn. It was love that had hurt Chay enough for him to run.
“I'm worried.” He admits in the quiet between them.
Kinn squeezes his hand. He can't offer much more than that. Not with Tankhun and Kim both present and accounted for, even if Kim seemed off.
“Have you spoken to your father yet?”
Kinn grunts and that's all the answer Porsche needed. Kinn had been, like most of the family, avoiding personal time with his father after everything that went down. Uncle Korn seemed almost amused the way everyone avoided him, something Porsche distantly knew he should be worried about. He couldn't find the energy.
He couldn't find the energy for most things these days.
He tipped his head to the side till it was nearly resting against Kinn's shoulder, “Can we leave soon?”
Kinn looks over, his hand going to brush the back of Porsche's head, “Can you give me thirty minutes?” He doesn't want to, hates the idea of sitting here a minute longer, but he knows Kinn is giving him what he can. He nodded, praying that Kinn kept his word.
-
Kinn got them out in twenty, it took another thirty to get back to the compound. By the time their bedroom door was locked shut, Porsche collapsed into their bed, no energy left in him.
“Porsche,” Kinn gently shook his leg, which made him whine in protest. He wanted sleep, he wanted the endless abyss that didn't try to crush him under the weight of everything.
He felt when Kinn sat down next to him, he leaned over him to whisper directly into Porsche’s ear. “Why don't we take a bath together? How does that sound?”
With Kinn's warm weight pressed along his back, he should have felt almost like an animal trapped by a predator, but not with Kinn. Kinn was a predator and he liked to hunt Porsche, but Porsche was never in danger with Kinn. He knew that, on an anatomical level, Kinn would do anything to alleviate his pain.
“Okay.” He managed to push out. A kiss is pressed against the side of his head before Kinn's weight retreats. The sudden absence of heat nearly had Porsche whining but he kept it down.
***
Kinn was terrified and he didn't know what to do. He'd felt every emotion across the human spectrum, many that most people would never feel. But he'd never been this cross between helpless and terrified.
Porsche wasn't well, and hadn't been since the coup. He knows his lover had his entire world shaken to the point of unrecognisable, but now Kinn had grown worried about the grey that clung to Porsche. There were many things Kinn was prepared for, losing Porsche was not one of them.
In the clinging heat of the bathroom, Kinn runs fingers over Porsche’s roughened skin. His head is tilted back to rest in the junction of Kinn’s neck, hot puffs of air warming Kinn's already heated skin. The bath is just shy of boiling, but Kinn endures for Porsche.
Staring down at miles of tanned skin, Kinn can't help but muse on his lover. Porsche is nothing like the men he dated before. He's physically built, hard planes of lean muscles, bronze skin that is marked by his journey through life. He's handsome, and to Kinn he is gorgeous, but he is nothing like the men before. It's probably a good thing since Kinn had always managed to choose wrong until Porsche. He draws lazy patterns on Porsche's chest, wishing his touch would elicit more of a response.
Kinn was a man of action, always had been. Not being able to do anything for Porsche was slowly killing him. He couldn't force Chay back, he couldn't fix Porsche’s mom, he couldn't undo years of damage. He could only hold Porsche close and hope that was enough.
A wet hand brushed across his jaw, jerking him back into his body. He looked down at Porsche, who was looking back at him with wide eyes. Porsche’s eyes had always reminded Kinn of a puppy, wide with an almost air of innocence to them, they were one of Kinn's favourite features.
He grabbed the hand cupping his cheek, “Hello.”
Porsche doesn't respond, just kept staring at Kinn. Kinn doesn't push, he lets Porsche do what he wants, mainly because he knows that Porsche is trying to figure out what he wants. If patience is what Porsche needs, Kinn will wait until the world freezes over.
“I love you.” Porsche whispered in the quiet of the bathroom.
Kinn leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Porsche's brow, “I love you too.”
There is a moment of hesitancy before Porsche leans up to capture Kinn's lips. If the last thing Kinn ever did was kiss Porsche he would die a happy man. Everything about it drew Kinn in, the way Posrche would turn towards him to get more, the taste that could only belong to his partner, the tiny sounds that Kinn could get out of him as his hands wandered. Intoxicating was the only word Kinn could use to describe it, but it didn't feel like enough.
Porsche, true to form, twisted around so that they were chest to chest, sliding his arms around Kinn's shoulders. Kinn ran a hand down Porsche's back, feeling muscled lines. He dug his fingers into the flesh just to produce some noise.
Porsche gasped, “Kinn.” A shudder ran through him, nearly making Kinn come undone on the spot.
“Baby,” he pressed an open mouthed kiss to Porsche’s neck, “let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good.”
“Please.”
-
Porsche is asleep beside him, laid bare like a feast for Kinn to devour. Marks have already begun to bloom across his chest from where Kinn spent near hours lavishing over Porsche's body. Every noise he could produce, he did. All but demanding a hundred percent of Porsche’s attention, forcing anything but that horrid grey to wrap around his lover.
There's a gap in the curtains that allows him to look out across the Bangkok skyline. Light pollution stole away glimpses of the stars, the lights from the buildings creating a poor imitation. He strokes Porsche's unruly locks as he watches the electric stars.
He needs to do something because he can't lose Porsche. The issue is he doesn't know where to start. He knows the problems, knows Porsche misses his little brother, is conflicted over the revelation over the family dynamic, and completely blindsided by the revelation that his f*cking mother was alive. Kinn isn't sure if he could even have been mad if Porsche had killed his father for that transgression.
(Kinn is also boiling mad at his father for everything he has put him through. Kinn has sacrificed a million parts of himself to make his father proud, to protect Tankhun and take the pressure off of Kim. It didn't matter if he wanted this or not, he had to do it.)
The easiest of the problems to tackle would be to get Chay talking to Porsche again, but after everything that had happened Chay had taken a step back. While Kinn may understand he didn't like how this hurt Porsche. That also meant there wasn't anyone in the family that could reach out and talk to Chay.
Kinn needed to do something, he just wished he knew what.
