Mornings seemed to come too quickly. Or maybe it was just that Vegas always felt tired since getting shot. He should probably be thankful he can feel anything at all. He clawed his way back from death's door and got a little stronger, felt a little less pain with each passing day.
And he wanted to get better. For Pete. If not for Pete, well, he wouldn't really have any motivation to go on. He had put a gun to his own head, after all.
Even if mornings came too soon, there was one good thing about them: waking up with Pete curled up beside him. Vegas was stuck on his back, but had an arm around Pete, holding him close against his side. He hadn't gotten up yet to start the day and bring them breakfast. The house was quiet and, for a few minutes, it was easy to pretend it was just the two of them. Carefully, very carefully, Vegas shift onto his side -- though he couldn't help a hiss and a groan as he did so.
Pete was not someone to sleep late. Generally. Sometimes he did love to sleep in a liiiittle bit though. And that meant that he was still asleep tucked against Vegas. Complete with a tiny bit of drool at the corner of his mouth as he seemed to murmur something incomprehensible in sleep. At least he was until Vegas moved and then his bodyguard instincts kicked into overdrive to wake him right up with an arm up and ready to put the man under him.
Only to realize that said man had just rolled over to face him. Blinking, he let himself relax a bit, hand moving instead to rub the sleep off of his face.
“Mm,” he hummed with a nod. “Everything’s fine.” Just a little sore. Turning hadn’t done his pain level any favors. But, he just wanted to hold Pete properly. To have a little peace before the day began.
He drank in the sight of him, how bright and alert his eyes are and how quickly he was able to relax once he realized there was no danger. It made Vegas smile.
“I tried so hard to get Porsche for my bodyguard. Now I have you. Even better.”
He let out a sigh because he already knew he'd have to let that one go. Vegas looked so happy right now. So in the end he shook his head to just dismiss it. They'd already been intimate when they probably shouldn't have. This couldn't be worse than that.
Pete finally smiled at him and let his fingers come up to pet that handsome face.
"Without a doubt," he quipped. Then he reached over to lay his hand against Pete's jaw, thumb stroking his cheek. He could list off all the ways the thought he'd come out on top: Pete was competent, reliable, fun, sexy. Not to mention that time he straight-up murdered a colleague for Vegas. They're both fucked up in their own ways. And yet, they're two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly.
"You're just trying to butter me up," he teased, really not meaning that at all. By now he'd learned that when Vegas was saying something sweet like that to him then he meant every word of it. The man would go and manipulate the whole world but he was different for him. Because he wasn't just a pet to Vegas. He was his special person that he loved so much.
And he loved him too. "How long have you been awake?"
"Is it working?" he asked with a playful grin. Then his expression softened and he hummed thoughtfully. "Mm, maybe half an hour? Not long." Long enough to watch Pete sleeping. Long enough to marvel at how peaceful he looks when he's asleep, to measure the steady breath, and watch the rise and fall of his chest.
That earned a rolling of his eyes. Vegas could be so cheesy in the best way. It was always enough to make Pete happy anyway because he honestly loved it. Shifting a little to make himself comfortable again, he rested his arm on top of Vegas' hip. A sure way to make sure he didn't hurt him by touching him. "You were just watching me sleep? Fucking creeper."
But he gave him a kiss anyway because that was actually really sweet.
Vegas bit his lip to keep from grinning. He did, however, lean in to bump his nose very lightly against Pete's after that kiss. "I think you like it."
Here, have another kiss in retaliation. It's less playful but still soft. He's not trying to get frisky with Pete. Last night was a lesson about that. He keeps their forehead together and just basks in their proximity.
He loved it. It was really romantic for a psycho like Vegas. A reminder of just how much he actually meant to the man. Vegas loved him enough to want to watch him while he was sleeping.
Returning the soft kisses, he closed his eyes as he enjoyed having the man near him. No need to get up. They could stay like this a bit longer.
"It was you, wasn't it?" His voice is low, with the sort of tone he'd used frequently in the safehouse after they slept together. "Who got me help after..."
His smile didn't fade but it lost a lot of the joy in it as he remembered that night. A soft and humorless laugh spilled out as he thought about it. "I realized you weren't dead and I screamed for help while I compressed the wounds on your stomach. When the crew came to help survivors I forced them to take you. They were rambling about not knowing what your records were right away so I tore at my sleeve to give them my blood. Said you were AB and I was O and needed to shut the fuck up and take it."
He nuzzled the arm he was resting on a bit. "When we got to the hospital they took you in. Apparently if you hadn't gotten blood on the way there you would have died since you'd lost so much. But they were able to save you and get the bullets out."
Somehow, this information doesn't surprise him. What does is that Pete remembered such a small detail from a single conversation they had. So much went on in the safehouse and Pete remembered that. And that detail probably saved his life.
Vegas let his eyes fall closed and breathed in the air between them. His hand remained against Pete's jaw, but after a few seconds, he slipped it back into Pete's hair and urged him closer for a deep, searing kiss. Vegas' arms tightened around Pete, pulling him flush against his body (which earned a small wince, but Pete was worth a little pain).
When he finally broke away from Pete's lips, he panted softly and opened his eyes halfway.
The kiss was a surprise but a welcome one. For a moment it felt like the power of Vegas' body before he'd almost died. Just a moment. But then they were panting softly and he was pushing his hand under the shirt that Vegas wore to touch the skin not covered in bandages. Not to stir him up but because he just wanted to touch him more, have more contact.
"I had to. I couldn't live without you," he admitted with shaky breath. "I cried so much over you and it hurt so much. But the more days that passed the more I knew it. That I loved you and that if you weren't in my life I wouldn't be living anymore."
Vegas sighed at the touch, shivering slightly. He understood Pete's intent. The closeness was important to them. It always had been since the very start. Only now, Vegas knew he could use closeness and touch for more than just terrorizing another. And so he was able to accept it for it what was: a need for intimacy.
"I remember you screaming." His voice is soft, distant as he recounts what little he could recall after being shot. "I thought... I could at least die near you... That would be enough."
"I screamed so much I lost my voice for a couple days after," he admitted to him. Pete drew little mindless patterns on Vegas' back. Nothing in particular, just a way to have contact as he grounded himself talking about this. It had been the most terrifying moment in his entire life.
"I'm never going to let you die on me." Which was pretty stupid all things considered but he didn't care. He didn't care at all. "Never. Because you can't leave me."
He could be contrary. He could remind Pete that everyone dies it's simply a matter of when and how. But instead, Vegas holds him closer. His weight and warmth familiar and reassuring. How he sighs wishing he could lay back and feel Pete's head on his shoulder, his body half on top of him. But this is enough for now.
There were so many people that would hate those words. But for Pete they meant everything. He even found himself smiling and pressing a kiss to those lips that had said something that special to him.
"Yeah. We die together." Neither of them were ever going to be alone again.
Maybe it's a little stalkerish, but he means it with every fiber of his being. Or maybe it's codependence? Either way, it works for them. They cling to each other in a world where their lives could be cut very short -- something Vegas has now had a taste of.
And he believed that. Vegas and him had come a long way together. What had started out as a horrifying experience had turned into something almost magical. Not that Pete really believed in that kind of fairy tale crap anymore. Once upon a time he had but that had been beaten out of him until he realized it wasn't a real.
This though? This was real. What was between them was real and burned bright enough to be blinding. But he'd learned to see past the brightness to look to the shadows where the two of them lived. Where they were the most comfortable.
"Stuck with you?" Vegas barked a laugh (though it did make him ache to do it). "Pete, I chose you." And would choose him every single time. Every chance he had. Pete would always be his number one priority. And if Pete ever tires of him? Well, they die together.
"You wanted to choose me. But you had to wait for me to choose you." He poked his face for that. But really the face was that at the end of it all they'd chosen each other. Which was something that he could appreciate now that he'd had time to process it.
"After you left..." He makes it sound like Pete just sauntered out the door and didn't make a daring escape. "I hoped you'd come back. I even made you dinner. But then my bodyguards told me you went back to them..." He cried so hard his eyes were dry for days after.
Pete nodded because he understood the feeling. How many times had he wanted to run back there? He'd known where it was. Even now he could retrace the exact steps it would take to get back there. He drew in a deep breath then let it out.
"Porsche tried to get me to tell him where I'd been and what happened to me. I was even sitting in a bathtub and he kept asking. But I couldn't do it." His hand stops the patterns just rests on his back. "I actually made myself noodles and I couldn't even eat it. I just cried."
He looked right at him now. "I was so ready to shoot you. But I couldn't do it."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
it's cuddle o'clock
And he wanted to get better. For Pete. If not for Pete, well, he wouldn't really have any motivation to go on. He had put a gun to his own head, after all.
Even if mornings came too soon, there was one good thing about them: waking up with Pete curled up beside him. Vegas was stuck on his back, but had an arm around Pete, holding him close against his side. He hadn't gotten up yet to start the day and bring them breakfast. The house was quiet and, for a few minutes, it was easy to pretend it was just the two of them. Carefully, very carefully, Vegas shift onto his side -- though he couldn't help a hiss and a groan as he did so.
"Are you awake?"
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Only to realize that said man had just rolled over to face him. Blinking, he let himself relax a bit, hand moving instead to rub the sleep off of his face.
"...you okay?"
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He drank in the sight of him, how bright and alert his eyes are and how quickly he was able to relax once he realized there was no danger. It made Vegas smile.
“I tried so hard to get Porsche for my bodyguard. Now I have you. Even better.”
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He let out a sigh because he already knew he'd have to let that one go. Vegas looked so happy right now. So in the end he shook his head to just dismiss it. They'd already been intimate when they probably shouldn't have. This couldn't be worse than that.
Pete finally smiled at him and let his fingers come up to pet that handsome face.
"Yeah? You think I'm better?"
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And he loved him too. "How long have you been awake?"
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But he gave him a kiss anyway because that was actually really sweet.
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Here, have another kiss in retaliation. It's less playful but still soft. He's not trying to get frisky with Pete. Last night was a lesson about that. He keeps their forehead together and just basks in their proximity.
"I wanna ask you something."
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Returning the soft kisses, he closed his eyes as he enjoyed having the man near him. No need to get up. They could stay like this a bit longer.
"What is it?"
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He nuzzled the arm he was resting on a bit. "When we got to the hospital they took you in. Apparently if you hadn't gotten blood on the way there you would have died since you'd lost so much. But they were able to save you and get the bullets out."
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Vegas let his eyes fall closed and breathed in the air between them. His hand remained against Pete's jaw, but after a few seconds, he slipped it back into Pete's hair and urged him closer for a deep, searing kiss. Vegas' arms tightened around Pete, pulling him flush against his body (which earned a small wince, but Pete was worth a little pain).
When he finally broke away from Pete's lips, he panted softly and opened his eyes halfway.
"You saved me."
There's more than one meaning to that.
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"I had to. I couldn't live without you," he admitted with shaky breath. "I cried so much over you and it hurt so much. But the more days that passed the more I knew it. That I loved you and that if you weren't in my life I wouldn't be living anymore."
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"I remember you screaming." His voice is soft, distant as he recounts what little he could recall after being shot. "I thought... I could at least die near you... That would be enough."
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"I'm never going to let you die on me." Which was pretty stupid all things considered but he didn't care. He didn't care at all. "Never. Because you can't leave me."
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"When we die, we die together."
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"Yeah. We die together." Neither of them were ever going to be alone again.
Without You plays in the distance
Maybe it's a little stalkerish, but he means it with every fiber of his being. Or maybe it's codependence? Either way, it works for them. They cling to each other in a world where their lives could be cut very short -- something Vegas has now had a taste of.
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This though? This was real. What was between them was real and burned bright enough to be blinding. But he'd learned to see past the brightness to look to the shadows where the two of them lived. Where they were the most comfortable.
In truth, they were both really fucked up people.
"Me either. You're stuck with me now."
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"After you left..." He makes it sound like Pete just sauntered out the door and didn't make a daring escape. "I hoped you'd come back. I even made you dinner. But then my bodyguards told me you went back to them..." He cried so hard his eyes were dry for days after.
"I would've let you shoot me at the bar."
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"Porsche tried to get me to tell him where I'd been and what happened to me. I was even sitting in a bathtub and he kept asking. But I couldn't do it." His hand stops the patterns just rests on his back. "I actually made myself noodles and I couldn't even eat it. I just cried."
He looked right at him now. "I was so ready to shoot you. But I couldn't do it."
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That thought gave him pause. "Have you ever been seriously injured on the job?"
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