Work Text:
Orange Gummy
Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakul never really had a preference. He does have, somehow. Like western food over Thai food, dark colours over bright ones, fewer people over a lot of people, luxury over simplicity. But all of it is due to how he is conditioned to live.
He likes western food because he had lived in the states and his household prepared it more often than Thai food, despite living in Thai in a traditional market area.
He likes wearing dark colours because bright colours will only attract attention. Dark colours mean stealth, it means safety. The only bright-coloured stuff he owned was the childhood toys that his mother insisted to buy when he was a kid. Which is kept within the safety of dark green, black, and maroon walls of his family compound.
He likes fewer people because, although he is not an anti of social interaction, he likes when it is quiet. When he didn’t have to talk and charm people. When he didn’t have to be his dad’s good little pet. When he didn’t have to act all flirty and smart-mouthed. He likes it when he could read his books in peace.
He likes luxury items. Fast cars, superbikes, expensive accessories, fancy watches, designer clothes and limited edition furniture. He likes it because that is how he used to live. Drowning in wealth. Which is also not bad, he enjoyed being comfortable.
But Vegas is never picky. He eats, wears, uses, and did whatever is shoved in front of him. Whatever he is told to.
It never really bothered Vegas either, when his preferences are not met. Only when his orders are not obeyed did he get mad. Which is different, because Vegas is actually a very simple man. With no preferences and is not picky.
However, something tickles his gut when Viktor, one of his trusty business partners from Russia, had his maid serve him a beautifully decorated orange pudding for dessert during their dinner after a meeting at Viktor’s mansion.
“I heard your favourite flavour is orange, Vegas.”
There are a lot of trivial little things he learned about Pete after they got together, one of them is that he likes gummy candies. It is probably safe to say that Pete is obsessed with them.
Any kind, gummy bears, peach rings, sour apple, sour patch kids, imported ones Vegas got from the states, those planet gummy from South Korea, everything.
He didn’t know about it before. And at first it’s because he kept on catching Pete snacking something from his pocket. He didn’t mind having him snacking around, actually, but one day after their weekly visit to one of their business partner’s bars, his curiosity bothered him so much he just yank Pete’s hand when he put it in his pocket and a plastic packet plops down to the ground.
“Oi!”
Vegas picked it up, and a yellow bear with a red bowtie stared back at him.
Haribo cola gummy
“Gummies?”
Pete snatched it from his hand and put it back in his trousers pocket, “Yes.” He answered shortly, avoiding Vegas' puzzled look. Pete swears he could also see an amused glint in Vegas’ eyes.
“Babe, you don’t have to hide it from me??” Vegas chuckled as he get inside the car, chasing after Pete who got inside first.
Pouting, Pete is now putting a bunch of gummies into his mouth, “I know, but you’ll mock me for being childish,” he munched with puffing cheeks, “Or worse! You’ll start stealing my gummy stash.”
“Stash?”
“Yes, I keep a few inside my bedroom’s nightstand.”
Vegas eyes light up, “Ah, so that’s why you got angry when I opened it to search for lube.”
Pete smacked his shoulder, “Yes, because my gummy stash is precious.” He said seriously, emphasizing the last word. His eyes squinted, his nose a bit scrunched.
Cute.
Vegas playfully nudged Pete’s nose and sit back straight, leaning back on the comfy plush of his car.
In the list of ‘Little Things About Pete’ he kept in his head, he adds, ‘Pete likes gummies’.
Pete found his nightstand’s drawer not closed properly the day after.
Panicked, he quickly opened it. But to his surprise, he didn’t find it empty. It is apparently not closed properly because now the drawer is filled to the brim with packs of gummies. Small packs that fit into his pocket, big party packs, medium-sized packs that fit right on his palm, even he found a giant-shaped lizard gummy stuck in the back of the drawer.
A blue sticky note stuck on one of the packs.
I promise I won’t steal your gummies.
Vegas might not be the best person on earth, their relationship might not always be smooth sailing, but the man does know how to make Pete smitten.
After that, every once in a while Pete got his drawer filled with assorted kinds of gummies.
There are two things that made this even cuter in Pete’s opinion. The first is that Vegas doesn’t seem to ever put the surprise in any other place. After the first time he got the surprise, he had checked in case Vegas put gummies in other corner of his bedroom. But no, it’s only inside his nightstand drawer. It’s always inside the nightstand drawer.
Second, after that, every time they went outside he could hear something crinkling inside Vegas’ pocket. Like the sound of plastic. At first, he suspected that Vegas is doing drugs, or taking medications Pete didn’t know about. He never pried, never asked, until one day Vegas took out a plastic packet from his suit’s pocket and shoved it in Pete’s palm.
It’s a small pack of gummy bear.
“Wha-”
“Eat it, you seem like you’re in a bad mood.”
Bad mood? I was thinking about this damn plastic sound!
But he gladly eats it anyway. Vegas apparently always keep a pack or two in his pocket in case something like this happens.
After that, Pete would openly snack on gummies in front of Vegas. He even fed Vegas some, sometimes, and Vegas is very much happy to accept.
-
“At this point, I’ll probably die due to diabetes.”
Pete and Vegas were resting together. It was Saturday, Pete had his head rested on Vegas’ lap, happily munching on his fruit gummy pack. He occasionally feeds Vegas, but most of it went to his mouth. They are on the sofa of the family compound’s main building TV room. Vegas is reading his book, his free hand absentmindedly stroked Pete’s hair. It’s a peaceful Saturday afternoon for both of them.
“Oi Pete, why are you only feeding me orange gummies?” Vegas protested as he put down his book.
Pete’s hand hanging on the air, his two fingers holding another orange gummy that he about to feed to Vegas.
“Auh… I don’t like orange gummies.”
Seeing Pete’s face being all pouty, he sighed then leaned forward to eat the orange gummy from Pete’s hand.
“Okay, but why?”
“I just don’t like artificial orange flavour. I am okay with orange, the real fruit, but I don’t like it that much either. It has a weird aftertaste that I don’t like.” Pete grimaced, slightly putting his tongue out. “So don’t buy me orange gummies from now on, yeah?”
Vegas smirked at his boyfriend’s action, “Then from now, I’ll eat any orange dish for you.”
-
What’s funny is that, not long after the conversation took place, the kitchen made a big batch of orange pies.
‘It is in season’ they said.
The other thing that Vegas know, is that Pete likes pies.
“I can still eat the orange you know, I’m not that picky,” Pete said as he watch Vegas meticulously pick every orange from the slice of pie that he cut for Pete. Pete is not even upset, he is just amused at how stubborn his boyfriend is.
Pete knows that this is just the way Vegas taking care of him, but this is too funny to watch.
“Stooop, you’re ruining the pie!”
Vegas has gone all the way to scrap the orange jam layer in the middle of the pie. Thankfully Pete had snatched the plate from his hands to prevent the pie from being butchered.
Vegas then proceed to eat the scraps of jam and oranges that he picked from Pete’s pie, he smiled, looking all proud of himself.
The news of Vegas picking and eating only the orange part of the pie travels fast on the second family’s compound. It has somehow translated into ‘Khun Vegas likes orange’, and the kitchen took it well by cooking more food and dessert with oranges.
Orange chicken, orange beef lettuce wraps, orange cheesecake, orange muffins, steak with orange sauce. Even now there’s freshly-squeezed ice-cold orange juice being served daily in the dining room’s bar.
Which makes everyone happy, by the way, as cold OJ tasted like a blessing under Thailand’s hot weather. It quickly became the bodyguards' favourite to go drink, other than beer.
It felt funny to Pete, as all of this happened because of Vegas and his stubborn ass. Pete himself even enjoyed the OJ once, and honestly? It’s not that bad. Besides, it’s not like Pete is that picky, and it’s not like he can’t eat oranges. He just didn’t like it that much.
But this managed to annoy Vegas, and the mafia managed to (politely) tell the kitchen to stop cooking too many orange dishes. In no time the food is back to normal, less orange. Except for the OJ, as the bodyguards love it so much.
Apparently, the news didn’t stop only at the second family’s house. It seems like it has circulated far to Vegas’ business partners. Including Viktor.
Pete is not with him in today’s meeting as he had complained about having stomach ache this afternoon. If he is here, he'd probably laugh at Vegas.
Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakul stared at the jiggling orange pudding in front of him, he smiled at how funny the situation is but then proceed to pull the plate closer.
“Yes, I do like orange.”