Vegas: I am a big strong man, you can't make me cry

Macau: are you sure? *Shows him a picture of Pete*

Vegas: *tearing up* He is so beautiful, I love him so much, what did I do to deserve someone so perfect

It's fathers day in the uk today and it really got me thinking about Vegas and Macau and how they might have coped with the day growing up together.

I can imagine Vegas as a young boy, running down the stairs as soon as he wakes up that morning; he’s gripping a homemade card he’d made at school the previous day for his dad; maybe he’d had help wrapping something up that he’d made as well and it crinkles in his little hands as he tries to get down the steps without holding onto the bannister. Gun is sitting at the table eating breakfast, he’s stressed about something and in an awful mood, and Vegas bounds over to him, nearly tripping on his still-too-long trousers, and he proudly presents them over. Happy fathers day, Pa! Look, I wrote it myself, and I put Macau’s name in it because he can’t write yet, but I can!  And he beams up at Gun, who isn’t even looking at him; he’s still reading the paper, and someone comes over to take him away to eat his own breakfast, and they’re telling him what a good job you did, but your pa’s busy, you know not to interrupt him- And that night, as he goes to bed, he’s thinking about how he probably didn’t do a good enough job, and that’s why Pa didn’t want his card; he should have practised his writing better because it’s not very neat yet, and he should have written it in English too because he knows a lot of words now and Pa has been really pushy about him being good at English-  And it takes many more fathers days after and the realisation that he will never be good enough for his Pa before he stops trying. And then Macau is six and very nearly seven, and Vegas can see him getting excited to give him a card on fathers day because he can finally write in sentences now, but by this point, he knows what his dad is like. He knows he won’t like the crinkled, hand-written thing Macau has prepared because he’d already tried.  So he tells him to leave it on the table before he goes to sleep because then he’ll see it first thing in the morning but don’t be sad if he doesn’t mention anything, okay, Cau? Because he’s swamped, you know this, so you can’t bother him about it. And he puts on a brave face and convinces Macau that he will definitely love it because you’ve worked so hard; look at how good your hand-writing is getting- And that night, after he’s read Macau a story and waited until he fell asleep, he creeps down the stairs and picks up Macau’s hand-made card and replaces it with an expensive bottle of whisky with a fancy bow on it and a generic card that he’d made sure was written neatly, and with no sentiments written because,  Because. And he looks at the piece of paper Macau had made; he’d even added crudely drawn pictures of all three of them together, and he vows to be better and do better and never let his little brother’s heart get broken because of their dad like his broke all those years ago. And then Macau is 12, and Vegas has been learning everything about the minor family business for years. He’s been trying so hard to be better than Kinn in everything he does because he needs to keep Macau out of their dad’s radar, and he has to be the best because that’s what his dad wants, what he needs from Vegas and when Vegas fails he gets hit.  Which is what happens on fathers day.  And they’re older now, and their uncle had proposed they have a dinner together to celebrate. They sit in the main family mansion listening to Korn brag about all his sons for hours while Vegas sits and tries to avoid Gun’s glare and not think about how much his cheek hurts, and Macau looks devastated, so he tries to ignore it and smiles to let him know that everything is fine.  And when he’s finally in his bed that night and can let out a breath that this day is finally over, something gets shoved under his door.

When he looks at what it is, it’s a card with cool drawings on the front of it. He knows who they’re by because Macau has been really into manga and anime recently and has been obsessed with drawing little comic strips, and he gives them to Vegas, who keeps them in a box under his bed with all the other cards he’s made. He wonders if Macau’s finally figured out what he does with his cards each year and had decided to just give it straight to Vegas instead of leaving it on the dining room table for Vegas to inevitably swap, but then he looks, he really looks at what’s on the front- It’s him and Macau, just him and Macau, and Vegas’s pet hedgehog with happy fathers day! written underneath. When he opens it, it says Have a good day, Vegas! lots of love, Mac  He cries himself to sleep that night. But for once, it’s not out of fear or hatred of himself; this time, it’s a deep sadness that he doesn’t have anyone to rely on, doesn’t have an older brother to tell him they love him, to fix his problems or help him with his homework. But Macau does. Macau does, and he’s so glad he can do that for his little brother and be there for him that he cries himself to sleep out of sheer relief that Macau knows precisely how much Vegas loves him.

And then Macau’s nearly 18, and everything is horrible and scary, and Vegas has been shot, and he might die, and he can’t even think about fathers day anymore because there’s no room for frivolity when the mafia is concerned.

And then Vegas is awake, he’s awake, and he’s got Pete, and life is hard, but he’s alive. He’s alive, his dad is dead, and he finally has someone to rely on, lean on, and hold. And being loved by Pete is a feeling so encompassing that he can’t even put it into words.

And then it’s fathers day again, but this time their dad is dead, and Pete’s dad is dead, and there’s no reason for them to celebrate, so they don’t. And Macau has finally started university, but he skips class to hang out with his brother and Pete. They don’t do anything momentous; it’s raining, so they stay inside, occupying themselves with games, movies, and whatever else, until they go to bed.

None of them mentions that it’s fathers day.

Yet that night, when Vegas is in bed cuddled up to Pete, something is shoved under their door. Pete goes to have a look, looking confused, as he holds a piece of paper and climbs back into bed with Vegas. Its a card. A fathers day card. A well-done drawing of Macau, Vegas, Pete, and their newly adopted pet cat, with Happy Father’s Day! written underneath in familiar handwriting.

He hands it back to Pete and tells him to open it, too overwhelmed to read it himself. Inside the card, in much neater handwriting than either of them thought Macau was capable of, it says-

Have a good day, Vegas.

You may not be my real father, 

but you’re the only one I’ve ever had. 

Lots of love, Mac 

ps. I guess p’pete counts now too.

He cries again, and Pete is gracious enough not to mention it. He adds it to the box, with all the other things Macau has ever made him, closing it and placing it back underneath the bed.

And it's later, years later, that a revelation occurs to him. That even though he’s spent his whole life trying to be good enough for a father that genuinely despised his existence, that even though he spent so many years trying to be better than Kinn, than Korn, than everyone.

He has always been good enough for Macau.

And he will always be good enough for Pete.

And that, that, is enough.

Macau: Would you take a bullet for me?

Chay: ...yes?

*Vegas angrily burst into the room*

Macau: *running away* Great, thanks!

Macau: can we get pizza for dinner?

Vegas: what did Pete say?

Macau: he said no

Vegas: then why are you asking me?

Macau: because he’s not the the boss of you

Vegas *unbothered*: Oh he is, though. He is absolutely the boss of me. You should know better by now.

*Macau gives up on pizza*

incorrect quotes (minor fam edition)

vegas: i’m very upset and there’s nothing that can make me feel better

pete: 

vegas: no.

pete: 

vegas: don’t.

pete: [brings a confused macau into the room]

vegas (fighting back a smile): shoot 

A Monster and his Baby

Am I the only one who loves this cute boy? Oh my god, he's really cute.

Vegaspete Dilfs??? (Ft. Good big brother/uncle Macau)

This shot is so pure, its everything

source: @barncsbucky

*Vegas post a cool pic/gif with his brother*

The answers he gets:

Chay: P’Macau looks so cool!!

Vegas: …

Porsche: When the younger bro stills all the charms!

Vegas: …

Tankhun: The little monster it’s kinda cool…

Vegas: *annoys*

Kim: Looking good cousin~

Vegas: Thank—-

Kim: I was talking to the younger one of you…

Vegas: …

Also Vegas: ALL OF YOU FUCK OFF 🔪

There are few characters in Kinnporsche I think could and actually would leave the family entirely.

Porchay, Kim (by extension, but I can also see him staying for his music if they never reconcile), and Macau.

In my mind, I can see Porchay escaping the mafia world to construct his own life free from the threat of danger and violence always looming over him.

Kim, if Porchay and him have that conversation and make up, would most likely leave with Porchay. Whether he continues with his music career elsewhere is up for debate, I don’t see him continuing without safety concerns. But who knows, maybe he could work it out.

Macau would be pushed by Vegas and Pete, mostly by Vegas because now they were unburdened by their father’s gaze, Macau had a chance at more normalcy than either of them ever had.

Vegas and Pete most likely would want to, but I don’t think it would actually happen with them. Especially with Korn still alive.

*VegasPete having their moment*

Vegas: Pete... *Leans in*

Pete: Vegas... *About to kiss*

Macau: Macau

It takes Macau a long time to get used to seeing his brother care so deeply for someone else.

It doesn’t hit Macau until after Vegas is discharged from the hospital. When he’s been home for a few months, and everything is strange, scary and new. It takes some getting used to, being in a new house and being in this new life, being away from the constant volatility and unpredictability that Pa brought them up with. He keeps waiting for the ball to drop. For someone to bang down the door and laugh in his face and tell him that he’s dreaming, tell him that his dad is not dead and his brother is dying, and Pete does not belong with them.

It doesn’t hit him until he watches Vegas struggle to recover from the physical injuries as well as the mental wounds that threaten to consume them all. It’s as he watches each bad day, each excruciating night, each smile slowly becoming a more permanent fixture on his brother’s face. It’s as he watches Pete, this man that he’s known for years but only known for a matter of months, be such an integral part of Vegas’s recovery that Macau doesn’t know what they’d do without him.

Then, something clicks into place, slots into a gap so unfamiliar in his mind that he doesn’t even know how to explain because, oh.

He’s..jealous.

Something ugly threatens to rear its head, and Macau does not know how to deal with it. Because seeing as Vegas smiles, bright and unrestrained, because of something Pete said only touches the surface.

It’s on a Friday evening when he gets home and catches them cooking together; well, Vegas is cooking; Pete is sitting on the counter and tasting every spoonful that Vegas brings to his mouth. They’re smiling and look happy, and Macau knows that if he were to join them, their smiles would stay intact, but something dark inside him panics about it anyway.

And then, one day, Pete returns from doing a job with Porsche, and he’s injured. Not seriously, but enough to leave him with a bloodstain on his white t-shirt that probably won’t come out in the wash. Macau sits outside, watching his brother pace back and forth in agitation as they wait for Pete to get his stitches. It reminds him of when he fell into Tankhun’s pond because Porsche is a jerk who has to insert himself into everything and how Vegas treated him afterwards. Angrily ordering the doctor to see him immediately, his rough manner and violent words were no match for the gentle way Vegas held his hand as his wound was cleaned.

And that night, as he comes downstairs to stay goodnight, his socked feet making virtually no noise as he slinks down the corridor, he watches as Vegas strokes his hand through Pete’s hair where they’re lying on the sofa. Pete is asleep, laid against Vegas’s shoulder, and Vegas looks down at him with tenderness, with a sheer and utter reverence, that Macau has never seen before.

The ugly thing threatens to escape, but he chokes it down and goes to bed without saying goodnight.

He starts to find it hard, after that, to ignore the voice in his head that tells him Vegas has Pete now; he has Pete to care about and to lean on, so why would he need Macau? The voice screams that Pete might be important to Vegas, but Macau is his brother; they’re family; why should Pete have all his attention when he is the one that needs it more.

And he knows, he knows it’s stupid and childish, but he can’t help it.

He doesn’t know how.

And it’s mortifying, feeling so needy when he’s never had to share Vegas before, never had to worry that he would get left behind because there was no one else.

He should be overjoyed that Vegas has finally found someone to love him in the way he deserves, wholeheartedly, and in exchange for nothing but love in return. And he is. Not a single thing makes him happier than to see Vegas look so content. But that does nothing to quell the beast inside of him.

And what makes it worse is that he likes Pete. He likes that Pete talks to him as an equal, that he knocks on his bedroom door and asks to come in. He likes that he doesn’t look at Vegas like a monster when he’s in one of his moods and doesn’t take any shit from either of them. It makes it worse because liking Pete makes him feel so guilty whenever the ugly thing wakes up inside him.

And it’s dumb; he knows it’s dumb, so he doesn’t let it out. He says nothing even when Vegas asks if he’s okay because he’s been quiet lately. He doesn’t say a word when Vegas reminds him that he’s there if he needs anything, and he doesn’t say anything when Pete tells him that he knows he’s not Vegas, but if Macau ever needs to talk, he’s always there to listen.

And then the voice inside him tells him that they know. They know about the ugly thing hiding deep inside his chest and how childish and needy he is for feeling this way. 

And eventually, it gets too much, something lets loose, and the ugly thing inside him breaks out of its poorly-built cage before he can stop it. 

It lashes out, and it’s mean, and he aims it all at Pete because Vegas isn’t home. Words that bear no truth pour out of his mouth, and the flicker of hurt that sweeps across Pete’s face before it hardens into something else makes him feel a hundred times worse. And then, like a coward, he storms away, locking himself into his room like a naughty child that had been sent there.

And it’s not until hours later, tears dried sticky on his face and he’s near convinced the voice in his head is telling the truth, that his door creeps open and light footsteps cross the room. He does not turn around. Just stubbornly faces the wall from where he’s curled on the sheets. The bed dips behind him, and a deep and heavy sigh is forced out of his brother’s chest. 

And then the voice tells him, see? See what you’ve done? He’s tired of your behaviour; he’s tired of your existence-

But a warm hand on his back and a calm voice in his ear stop it in its tracks. Because Vegas is sorry, he’s sorry that Macau has been struggling, and he’s sorry if he’s been neglecting him, but yelling at Pete won’t solve anything. 

And he knows, of course, he knows he hurt Pete, and he knows that nothing that came out of his mouth made sense because nothing in his head makes sense, either. And he cries, again, like a baby, but the warm hand doesn’t leave, and Vegas doesn’t leave, and telling him everything the nasty voice inside his head has been saying is so liberating, he feels like a weight has been wrenched from his body. Because he’s not dumb, and he’s not stupid and if that’s what you think needy is, then I’m so much worse than you, Mac-

And later on, when he forces himself to face Pete, cheeks red hot with shame, apologies tumbling out so fast he’s not even sure they’re eligible, he feels even lighter still. 

And when they pay him extra attention, he makes sure to complain like a typical teenager would, but inside, he glows with tender joy. Because even though the voice is still there, this time, he knows it’s lying, and this time, he doesn’t listen, and it makes it significantly quieter. 

And for all the gross and sappy moments that Vegas and Pete force him to witness, he doesn’t need to worry that he’s being forgotten or left behind because they always find a way to include him too. 

And although he would never say it out loud, he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Vegas: We need a plan to beat them.

Macau: Okay, listen up. First, we fill their shoes with wet cat food.

Vegas:

Macau: Judge me all you want, I get results.

Kinn, Kim and Vegas: the Theerapanyaclowns

Tankhun: the Theerapanyaking

Macau: the Theerapanyakid

What's wrong Little Demon?

Prompt: Day 2: “That’s my family.” + comfort

A letter from his parents and a lot of memories made him really homesick.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41971728

#kpweek2022