Chapter Text
Macau was used to many different sounds emanating from the halls and rooms of his home, and almost none of them were pleasant. He had often heard his father shouting, Vegas screeching as he smashed things, or the echo of his father’s ring striking his brother’s face.
The worst sound of all was the silence, however.
For hours, no one would speak to one another. It was torture.
Macau learned to blend in with the stillness, to creep around his own home like a ghost.
The skills proved useful as he snuck up on Vegas and Pete in the laundry room.
“Ai’Vegas,” Pete huffed, squirming in Vegas’s hold. He was clearly trying to get the clean clothes out of the dryer and into the basket so he could fold them, but Vegas seemed determined to make that task as difficult as possible. He did it with a smile, though, and that made Macau’s heart swell.
“Pete, you’re so mean.”
“I’m not- Wegath! I’m trying to fold our clothes.”
“And I’m trying to snuggle. You know physical touch is important in healing.”
Pete rolled his eyes, sighing as he gave up trying and just stared at the ceiling.
“One,” Pete said finally, “The doctor never said that. Not until you threatened him. And two, the doctor said that you weren’t supposed to lift anything heavy, so that definitely includes trying to drag me around.”
“Well, if you would just let me hold you, I wouldn’t have to exert so much energy.”
“But if you just let me fold the laundry, then I would be free to do something else.”
“Something else, you say?”
Vegas grinned wickedly, his arms tightening around Pete’s waist as he pressed against him.
Not wanting to see something he really didn’t want to, Macau cleared his throat loudly, laughing when Pete screamed. That never got old.
“What are you doing, hia?”
Vegas pouted, looking his age, and Macau grinned.
“Exposure therapy.”
“Ai’Gath,” Pete grumbled, scowling as he twisted in Vegas’s hold, careful of Vegas’s mostly healed injuries.
“P’Pete’s not gonna grow to like how clingy you are if you won’t even give him room to breathe.”
Vegas exhaled heavily, rolling away from Pete to lean against the washer so Pete could finally finish his task.
While he was occupied, Macau gave Vegas a wink, always up for helping his beloved brother in any mission he set out to accomplish.
Pete shut the dryer, but before he could lift the basket from the floor, Macau was swooping in to grab it.
“I got it, phi. I think hia needs to lay down for a bit. He’s looking a little pale.”
Immediately, Pete’s hands left the wicker basket to cup Vegas’s face so he could get a better look at him.
“You should have said something,” Pete whispered.
Vegas clutched his scarred side gently, his other arm wrapping around Pete’s waist like the octopus he was. “You kept saying you needed to fold the laundry.”
“Does it hurt?” Pete asked, pressing his forehead to Vegas’s.
A brief smirk flashed over Vegas’s face before he remembered to act pathetic.
“Yeah.”
With a sharp glare, Pete leaned back to flick Vegas’s forehead, making him yelp with surprise.
“Bullshit. I know when you’re lying, and I know when you’re in pain. You just want to get in my pants. The doctor said no strenuous activity, Vegas.”
Macau shook his head, stifling his laugh as Pete stomped out to unload the dishwasher while Vegas chased after him, trying and failing to make his case that he knew better than someone who had attended years of medical school.
When Macau brought the laundry out to the living room to fold its contents, he could see Vegas putting the silverware away while Pete focused on the dishware. Really, Vegas was mostly fine, but he did like to milk his injury for attention from Pete as often as he could. Pete gave him lip, but Macau saw how gentle Pete was with his brother. The man clearly loved him, even though Vegas could be so annoying.
Macau smiled to himself as he listened to their flirtatious bickering, thinking about how Vegas hadn’t thrown one screaming, smashing tantrum since they’d brought him home from the hospital. Vegas’s voice had never sounded so tender as when he talked to Pete, making sure he helped Pete settle into his new life as a member of their family while Pete did everything he could think of to look after the two of them, understanding that they came as a unit.
At first, Macau thought it would feel awkward to live with his cousin’s former guard, but Pete was really funny. He liked to watch shows with Macau, and his yaai sent him amazing food, increasing the portions now that Pete’s family was bigger.
“Ai’Gath!” Pete fussed, walking quickly away from the kitchen with Vegas hot on his heels.
They continued whining at each other down the hall, and then Macau could hear the unmistakable sound of a giggle. After another giggle, this one definitely from his brother, they quieted down, which told Macau that they were absolutely making out again. Their bedroom door shut, and Macau finished folding the last shirt, basking in the tranquility of his happy home.
Kicking the basket across the room, Macau turned the television on. He knew they would be busy for a while, if their history was anything to go by, but they would be back in time to make dinner.
Sure enough, they emerged a few hours later, freshly showered and in their pajamas already.
“Thank you, nong,” Pete said, grinning as he hoisted the laundry basket onto his hip to put everything away. Before he walked away, though, he reached out and ruffled Macau’s hair in a way that made Macau unbelievably happy, despite it being such a simple gesture of affection.
While Pete was gone, Macau got up to help Vegas get started on dinner.
His brother was humming, another thing Macau almost never used to hear.
“You didn’t bust your side open or anything, did you?” Macau asked. He knew Vegas was better, but sometimes he still felt a wave of anxiety. His brothers were his whole world, and he worried about them.
“The only thing I busted-”
“Hia!” Macau groaned, smiling wryly as Vegas threw his head back and laughed.
Pete returned, beaming at the sight of his boyfriend looking so happy.
“What are you two doing?”
“P’Pete, hia’s being gross.”
Vegas smirked, reaching out to pinch Macau’s nose. “I’m not gross, I’m in love.”
“Same thing,” Macau argued, rolling his eyes as he turned to throw himself onto Pete’s back, like he was a child asking for a piggyback ride. “Save me, phi.”
Vegas pretended to be offended, gesturing to his brother as he complained, “Macau gets to cling to you and I don’t?”
“Cau’s a kid,” Pete teased, shifting to lift Macau properly onto his back.
“Yeah,” Macau replied, sticking his tongue out.
“He’s in uni,” Vegas grumbled, turning the stove on as he reached for his favorite pan.
Macau slid off of Pete, then, so they could both help Vegas with dinner as they bickered about which movie to watch.
After eating, they crowded Pete onto the couch, exclaiming it was exposure therapy, and snuggled into both of Pete’s sides as he grumbled and squirmed, finally giving up and putting an arm around each of them.
The television droned on, and Macau decided he much preferred the sounds of his current home.
Instead of shouting, he had the sound of Pete or Vegas singing (badly) in the shower.
Rather than glass breaking, there was the soft smacking of lips when Pete and Vegas stole cute kisses.
Even in the times it was quiet, Macau felt at peace. He was home, and his family was happy.
The next morning, Macau could smell breakfast cooking, but what had woken him up was his brother laughing as Pete barked, “Ai’Vegas!”
He smiled up at his ceiling, ready to start another day of helping his brother terrorize Pete with his clingy affection, beyond thrilled that this was his new normal.