Vegas turned the gold ring on his finger, standing on the roof of his building and looking down into the rowdy crowd beneath. His father hadn't woken yet, but Korn had been "gracious" enough to leave him in Vegas' custody. Vegas didn't feel guilty. At least, not as much as he'd have expected to. He hadn't come back just to lose Pete. Papa should have listened. Vegas was trying to save them both.

That night, he received a text from Porsche. A phone number and nothing else. There was no reason to expect malice from someone like Porsche. Granted, the last real interaction he'd had with the man was a foot to Porsche's face. But things were different this time around.

This Porsche hadn't seen his brother get kicked in the chest by Tawan on Vegas' orders. This Porsche hadn't been captured by Vegas or been threatened with a framing. He was still the same man who'd sat in a pool with Vegas and drank wine in the middle of the night. This Porsche was Vegas' friend. Of sorts.

So Vegas called the number. It wouldn't hurt. Or, if it did, if it turned out to be a trap, Vegas would call kinn immediately. Because even though Vegas was trying to change, the rest of the world was still the same. His enemies were still alive and the people who wanted to use him against Kinn still existed.

"Hello?" he said as soon as the dial tone cut off.

"Hey," a familiar voice said.

Vegas' knees went weak as he fell against the half wall before him.

"Hi," Vegas said, sliding to his knees before he turned and sat with his back to the half wall. "Porsche gave me this number."

"I asked him to."

Vegas gulped and pressed his lips together. Pete had made the first step. He'd reached out to Vegas. The temptation to grab at that outstretched hand was strong. But Vegas remembered what that had done, last time. Pete had handed him a rope, and out of fear, Vegas had cuffed him again. He hadn't meant to. He didn't even know it would be received as badly as it was. Pete wanted him. That was all he'd needed to know to try to possess Pete, to own Pete again.

Look how well that turned out.

The fact that Pete reached out, this time, didn't mean it was permission for Vegas to grab at him or rush or jump to conclusions. Vegas knew the mistakes. He only had to avoid them.

"What..." he hesitated. "What do you want to talk about?" he asked, closing his eyes, trying to picture himself in the room with Pete.

He'd woken up days ago, but he was still in the hospital. An empty room with beige walls. Three beds, covered in white sheets and gray spreads. If Vegas was in that room, he'd want to be sitting on Pete's bed, as close as Pete's injuries would let him. But he'd also know that Pete needed his space. Vegas would probably be sitting on the bed closest to the door.

"I want to know about us," Pete said. "You know things that you shouldn't know. I want to know why."

Vegas picked at the hem of his pants.

"You might not like what you hear."

"Because you abused me? Or because you fell in love with me?"

"Both," he said, honestly.

"I see."

"Do you still want to hear everything?"

"Will you tell me the absolute truth?"

"Always," Vegas promised.

"Then tell me."

Like a flood, like a broken dam, the words flowed from Vegas, unbidden by the heartbreak he knew he would feel with every word. But in a way, he welcomed it, because speaking about it meant he'd have to face it. Vegas had done those things. Not someone else. Vegas.

And if Pete was ever going to learn to know Vegas, learn to understand him, learn to love him, then Vegas had to show him everything and trust that when Pete made his choice, Pete would choose Vegas again.

***

Pete didn't call Vegas until two days later.

In that time, Vegas had watched his phone like a hawk, stared at the number till he memorized it. Pete knew what had happened. Vegas hadn't sugar-coated any of it. He beat Pete. He locked him up. And if Pete hadn't left on his own, Vegas wasn't going to set him free.

Pete knew this when he called back. Vegas had left his phone for one second to take a piss. Running back to the ringing phone and tripping over the center table in his office wasn't something Vegas ever wanted to remember.

"Hey," he said, breathlessly, falling into his chair as he nursed his bruised shin.

"How was the sex?"

Vegas froze.

"What?"

"The sex? What was it like?" Pete asked. "I must have stayed for a reason."

Oh. Oh god.

"You didn't stay because of the sex."

"Really?" Pete asked, confused. "You said you let me go and I came back."

"We didn't do anything like that when I left that key."

Pete was quiet for a while. He was probably processing what Vegas had told him.

"So you had me locked up in your house for a week, where you beat me, and isolated me, but you never had sex with me?"

"No," he said. But then he cringed because that wasn't entirely the truth. "Well, there was the thing in the dungeon."

"What happened?"

Vegas ran a hand through his hair.

"I was going to touch you. I wanted to. But then my dad came in and killed the mood."

Vegas pulled his hair.

"After that?"

"Nothing."

"So the sex was... consensual?"

"Yes."

"How was it?"

"We're back on this question again."

"Why are you avoiding the question?" Pete asked, a slight chuckle in his voice.

"Because it's weird."

"You've told me everything else. Your voice didn't shake when you told me that you electrocuted my balls. Why are you afraid to talk about the good parts?"

"The good parts?"

"I'm assuming the sex was good."

"Yes," Vegas said, flashing back to that first kiss, to the moment when licked Pete's neck, tasting his skin, and his sweat and yeah, maybe it was filthy to fuck when they'd just been roaming around in sand and grass to bury a dead hedgehog, but Pete was the sexiest thing in the world and every bit of him was worth licking. Sweaty or not.

"Did you fuck me or did I fuck you?"

"Oh god," Vegas said, unable to help the laugh that burst from him.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because it's weird."

"Why is it weird? We're both adults? It's not fair that you've touched me and you remember it. It's not fair that you've seen me naked but I haven't seen you naked."

"Do you want to change that?" Vegas asked thoughtlessly.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the silence that followed.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. I meant nothing."

"No," Pete said, sternly. "Don't be a coward. Say it with your whole chest."

What had Vegas expected? The Pete he knew was a sassy devil with a sharp tongue. Even with his hands tied, he still found ways to cut into Vegas once he opened his mouth. Why had he expected that this one would have less audacity?

"I'll tell you about the sex."

He'd rather do that than repeat what he'd just said.

"Yay," Pete's voice said in quiet celebration. "Tell me everything."

***

After days and days of texts and calls, the first time Vegas saw Pete, Porsche had invited Vegas to Yok's bar. Pete was leaning against the bar in the oversized, white and black shirt that Vegas remembered from before. It was the same one he'd been wearing when Vegas went to see him at the bar. He was still pretty as ever, hair brushed over his eyes, lips tinted with gloss. Pete was a dream to look at.

However, from the shock on his face, Pete hadn't known Vegas would be there. Luckily there were a bunch of people to cushion Vegas' abrupt appearance. Tankhun was there. Kinn was there. Time and Tay were there. Even a couple of Tankhun's other bodyguards.

They drank, they sang, they played games. And through it all, Vegas couldn't help watching Pete in his element, watching him have fun. He wished he hadn't made himself known, because Pete was very conscious of Vegas' presence. He tried not to look, but Vegas could tell that Pete was just as aware of Vegas, as Vegas was of him.

But then, when things started to quiet down and Vegas approached, Pete had taken a step back, his eyes wide with mild horror. Vegas stopped moving immediately. This was different. Pete on the phone was safe from Vegas. He could laugh and joke and be naughty. But face-to-face, without walls between them, Vegas was still a monster in his eyes.

Bowing slightly, Vegas had retreated, choosing to stay clear of Pete for the rest of the night.

***

"I'm sorry about tonight," Pete's text had said. "I'm not ready."

Vegas had read and reread the text till his eyes clouded with tears.

***

A single decision had changed so much, and yet, kept so many things in the exact same way. Like Kinn and Porsche. Vegas knew things. And maybe he would have stayed out of it because things between the main and minor families were settling down. Without Vegas' antagonism, they were working together.

But Porsche had turned into something of an ally. And, eventually, things will come to light. And then everyone would turn to Vegas because he'd told everyone he knew everything because he'd been to the future. If he didn't act, it would backfire and he would be the enemy.

Again.

So, he'd invited himself into Kinn's office, locked the door and dropped a compiled file of everything he knew about it. About Porsche's family, about Porsche's uncle, about Korn. None of it was Vegas' cross to bear. As a... friend... to Porsche, the best option would have been to go to Porsche. But Vegas knew how that turned out. Korn was watching them all and Porsche would lose his shit and abandon Kinn again.

"Why did you give me this?" Kinn asked.

"Because the last time Porsche worked without you, your father triggered a war."

"You said your father invaded-"

"Your father faked his death because he knew Porsche was out for blood. Porsche was out for blood because he couldn't trust you."

"And he trusted you?"

"More than you? Yes," Vegas said boldly.

When Kinn frowned, heartbroken, Vegas regretted saying it like that.

"He didn't trust me. He just had to use me because he thought you'd pick your father's side over his."

"I would never."

"Phi-Kinn, please," Vegas said. "I know we want to believe the best about our fathers. I know." Vegas leaned on Kinn's table, remembering how Kinn had shook his head at Vegas. "You were there when my father was killed."

"What?"

"Your father shot him."

"My father would never-"

"I've seen how this plays out when Porsche discovers the truth. Everything might not go the way it did for me because I've changed things, but while my life was falling apart, Porsche was finding out about your father and his parents. Which means that my coming back here hasn't changed that part. For all we know, he already knows. So here's your chance. Come clean. Help him deal with this, and for the love of god, try to remember that your father is as human as the rest of us."

As Vegas turned to go, Kinn asked, "Why are you telling me?"

"Clean slate, remember?" he said.

"Is that the only reason?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Is this because of Pete?"

Saying yes would be the simplest answer that Vegas was willing to offer. Because, yes, he wanted a world where Pete wouldn't have to choose between Vegas and the main family. Because, in this timeline, Vegas didn't have a hold on Pete like he did before. He couldn't risk losing Pete, if he ever got the chance.

But there were other reasons Vegas wanted a clean slate.

Tankhun was still a messy, loud bully who Vegas loved to avoid. But he was checking up on Macau, these days. Without their father, Korn wanted tabs on them. Vegas knew that. But he didn't mind the fact that what had started as literal reports between Vegas, Macau and Tankhun, had somehow changed into Tankhun taking Macau shopping and to the movies.

Sometimes, with Chay hopping along for the ride.

Without their father, Vegas was busy. And yeah, Macau had friends. But Macau had Tankhun and Chay, too. And, on more than one occasion, Vegas had even received an invitation to join their band of weirdness. He'd refused, of course. But the sentiment had been... welcome.

So yeah, Vegas was doing this for Pete. But he was also doing it for his peace of mind. For his brother. Just in case Vegas stepped in the wrong pile, one day, and had to die again. Luckily, Tankhun was a lot of things, but Vegas didn't think he was capable of faking that amount of affection.

There was no way to explain all that to Kinn without sounding like a weak fool, so Vegas gave the easiest truth there was.

"I'm doing this because of Pete."

That was the biggest part of the truth anyways.

***

Vegas didn't approach Pete in public. The fact that he still got texts and phone calls was more than he'd ever thought he'd have. Pete was funny, and liked to gossip. About little things like Porsche breaking yet another family heirloom of the main family. About being pulled like a toy in a tug-0-war between Kinn and Tankhun because no one could figure out whose head bodyguard Pete actually was. About his grand-mother and the food she sent.

Pete liked to talk. Vegas was honored to listen.

Until the day he entered his office to find Pete sitting in Vegas' chair with his feet crossed on the desk.

"Pete," Vegas said, dropping his coat on the table by the door but making no move to get closer.

"I see you haven't changed the code," Pete said.

Vegas shrugged.

"Didn't think you'd ever use it."

"Oh, I used it."

Vegas looked in the direction of his dungeon.

"Did you go in?"

"No."

"Why not?"

It was Pete's turn to shrug.

"It's just a room, Pete."

"Is it?"

"You've been in my dungeons before."

"Not this one," he nodded in its direction. "I keep wondering why you put me in this one. Because I remember, with Don's manager, you took him to the dungeon on the ground floor. Then there was the one at the casino. So why did I get the special dungeon that adjourns your office?"

"Why do you keep asking questions that would only make you more scared of me?"

"I'm not scared of you."

"Really?"

Pete smiled.

"At the bar, I wasn't ready."

"And since then?"

"I'm here now."

Vegas leaned on his door, holding the bars to keep from vaulting himself across the room at Pete. Because "I'm here now" was not an invitation. Not in the way Pete meant it, anyway.

"You're driving me nuts."

"Yay," Pete said, wiggling his fingers. "But why are you over there, though?"

"I'm trying to be respectful."

"You can come closer."

Vegas moved closer, bending to sit on his sofa.

"Closer," Pete said, stopping Vegas with his ass halfway down.

Huffing, Vegas came to the desk.

"Is that as close as you're going to get?"

"Any closer and I'd be in your lap."

"And the problem with that would be...?" Pete asked, eyebrows raised.

Since Pete was asking, Vegas moved around the table, gently lifting Pete's legs and placing them on the floor as he sat on the table and pulled Pete and the chair till Pete was between his legs.

"Is this better?" Vegas asked.

"I don't know. You tell me," Pete said, bracing his hands on either side of Vegas' hips on the desk.

"It's better for me. If I had my way, you'd never leave my side."

Looking up at him, Pete's smile widened.

"You make me sound like a prize."

"I don't know any prize that's worth your value."

"Because I gave you a few kind words in another timeline?"

"Because you made me feel safe."

Pete's cheeks and ears went red, but he didn't look away.

"I'm not where you are right now."

"You don't have to be."

"I'm very curious, though," he said. "I don't want you to feel like I'm using you."

"Use me to satisfy that curiosity, all you want."

Pete's hands lifted from the table, gently tapping in a nervous manner. Then he lifted the right one, moving it between vegas and the desk, as if unsure what to do. Vegas knew Pete was going for his neck. But he didn't help him. Didn't move Pete ahead of his time. If Pete wanted something, he had to take it or ask for it.

After a bout of back and forth, his hand finally found Vegas' neck, pressing down on it. Vegas moved closer.

"You won't resent me if that's all it ends up being?" Pete asked.

"I could never resent you."

"Promise?" Pete asked, a hair's breadth away from Vegas.

"I promise," Vegas said, knowing in his heart that Pete would have to move the world or do the impossible to trigger a smidgen of resentment from Vegas.

Satisfied with Vegas' answer, Pete lifted himself the rest of the way into a long awaited kiss, holding on to Vegas and standing as Vegas' hands wrapped around Pete's waist. It felt so natural, so real. Never in his life would he have imagined that he'd get this sort of chance with Pete.

Because the fact that Pete was here, touching and kissing him, was more than any dream Vegas had ever had in his entire life.