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Birthdays are overrated, Vegas has always been adamant about it. He never really felt the need to celebrate his existence on this planet. Pete disagreed. Hence, why he made Vegas mark Venice’s on his calendar.
Vegas remembered birthdays. He considered it another tool for getting closer to people, making them feel important, significant in his life. Especially parties were idiotic, frivolous occasions for people to throw money at each other and show off under the guise of being considerate. Growing up, his own birthdays held no significance, really. After his mother died all they meant was a party, people he didn’t like, things he wouldn’t use and had no need for, having to tolerate his cousins without shooting them or himself for hours, and his father pretending to be proud of him while sideying him the whole evening.
Macau didn’t think that way, though. Sure, he despised the parties as well, but he loved his birthday. Vegas had made a habit of getting him a small cake with a candle for the night when everyone was gone. It was their mother who did it at first and he hated the look on his brother’s face when he had realized it would stop once she had died.
Still, he promised Venice a normal childhood, which, according to Pete and several parenting books (that no one had to know about), meant remembering and celebrating birthdays. So he remembered. There would obviously be a party, although, with the minor family situation, not many people would likely show up, still disbelieving of the “united family” facade his uncle was trying to push. Vegas was quite thankful for that, if he were being honest. He loathed the idea of having to entertain so many people, be nice to them, and smile around a glass of wine for the whole evening.
— — —
The days leading up to the party were undoubtedly overwhelming. Pete had assured him he would take care of everything, from invitations to planning, but Vegas still lived in the same house, he was quite aware of everything. He did offer to help, several times, especially after Pete broke down one night from the pressure. His offer was declined though, on the grounds that he had a lot to deal with already, what with trying to re-establish his position and helping smooth out the main family’s fuck ups. Vegas believed the actual reason was that Pete wanted to complete what he started on his own, out of pride or stubbornness, he wasn’t certain.
So Vegas let him, attempting to contribute from the sidelines. A plate of homemade food here, a relaxing bath there, promising to take care of Venice’s gift. Okay, that last one may have been a mistake. He had no idea how to go about it. Especially once the gifts from people that wouldn’t attend the party started coming in. But Pete’s relief when he told him meant he had better do it right.
The house was flooded in anything a toddler could wish for. It was too much for a baby that barely knew how to walk. From clothes to toys, to money, everything was already there, which landed him back to square one. Asking for help was out of the question. It couldn’t be that hard. Besides, who could he ask? Not Macau, what would a teenager know about babies? Certainly not any of the rest of his family, absolutely not. The rest of the people he interacted with were, to say the least, unsuitable to interact with, or ask about babies.
— — —
The day of the party arrives excruciatingly fast, Vegas definitely doesn’t feel ready. The first to arrive is of course the rest of this cursed family. They fill the driveway with their expensive black cars. Bodyguards flood out to open doors. It feels eerily like a business meeting. Korn gets out of one car, Kinn and Porsche from the second and Tankhun, Kim and that kid, Porsche’s brother from the last. Fortunately, Vegas has time to prepare himself as much as possible since he’s watching over the entourage from the window of the hall turned elegant child’s party room.
He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to look at Pete holding Venice with his one hand.
“They’re here.” He tells him, as if his face wasn’t enough of an indication. His eyes don’t linger to take notice of Pete’s answering gaze, instead turning to Venice. The little bundle of a person, big enough to cause all this turmoil in him.
Strange as it may seem, Vegas can’t help but feel protective over the little guy. He loathes it as much as anything. The last thing he needs in his life is one more person to worry about. He can’t help it, though, the way those chubby little cheeks and fingers, the babbling and wobbly steps crawled into his rotting heart and made a home there. Right next to Macau and Pete, albeit not as big for now.
Multiple footsteps echo from the other room, getting closer to the door. It will open any second. Vegas’ ears tune everything out but the approaching footsteps, the thump of expensive leather against marble floors. Instinctively he takes Venice from Pete’s arms and holds him close to his chest, almost ignoring both the baby’s and Pete’s surprised sounds.
The door opens and bodyguards in suits filter in like rats coming out of their holes, followed by Korn leading the rest. As much as it pains him, he exchanges polite greetings with everyone, refraining from saying anything else. He grits his teeth, making his jaw hurt. Pain is good, familiar, welcome.
Korn presents his gift to them and, oh, Macau and Pete are standing there beside him, when did that happen? Pete takes the envelope and small box, something undeniably expensive, Vegas doesn’t care. He smiles at them and leaves them to sit somewhere with a glass of whiskey. Pete says something beside him , though he has no time to discern what, because the very next second he has an eyeful of bright pink Tankhun, who is now all over him making him flinch a little.
“Where is my favourite nephew!” In order to prevent Tankhun from grabbing him, he turns Venice towards the rest. The toddler looks at all the people warily. He seems entranced by his colourful cousin, who coos over him, trying desperately for the title of best uncle. Everyone else starts getting a bit closer, making small talk with Pete, wishing the baby happy birthday, smiling over Venice’s babbling and small words like ‘dada’ or something akin to ‘bye’
The bodyguards leave gifts around the room, Vegas only barely paying attention to them. A hand on his waist calms him as he recognizes it as Pete’s. Porsche is the most daring one, as he actually takes Venice out of his hold, presumably after asking Pete for permission. It takes all of his strength not to grab Venice back, but he seems quite comfortable with the change so he refrains from it. Pete is right there, he trusts Pete with the kid, which gives him the chance to glance around a bit while exchanging words about life and work with a constipated looking Kinn.
Looking around he also notices Kim standing a few metres away from the group around the baby, staring at someone with equal measures of fondness, dejection and guilt. Vegas follows his gaze towards the young man whose name he should remember, though now everything in his head is a mess. Oh . So that’s how it is. Does Porsche know, he wonders. That could cause quite some chaos. He files it away for later.
It’s soon enough that more guests start arriving, filling the room with voices, chatter. Vegas puts his charming smile on and notices Pete doing the same. They’ll get through this, they will.
The party seems to float by and before he knows it, the guests have left, leaving behind expensive gifts, deals talked over, thinly veiled threats. His cousins are, of course, the last to leave.
“I demand to see my nephew more! He’s been here for a year and I've barely seen him! How is he supposed to know who his favourite uncle is if he never meets him? Huh!?!” Tankhun looks straight at Vegas, almost through him.
“You might’ve gotten Pete, but I won’t let you monopolise the little one as well, even if you somehow managed to not make him a crybaby like Macau”
“Hey-” Macau tries to protest but Tankhun is already swishing his jacket and walking away. That was probably as close to a compliment as Tankhun would ever give Vegas. Kinn and Porsche say their polite goodbyes next. Porsche even looks at him and Pete and tells them they’re doing a good job. Vegas is too stunned to notice how Porchay (right, that was the name) waves goodbye -more to the baby than them-, and off he goes with a sulky Kim behind him, not too far yet not too close.
Later that night, after they’ve left the decorated room to the cleaners to deal with, the four of them are sitting in their living room, trying to relax from today’s ordeal. It’s as good a time as any, Vegas thinks, as he gets up to bring Venice his gift.
When he gets back, Pete looks at him with that warm gaze of his, a smile painted on his face, making him glow as always. Venice calls out to him from his place at Pete’s lap. Vegas sits next to them and shows the baby his wrapped gift.
“Happy birthday Venice.” Vegas opens the gift for him, though Venice seems more interested in the shiny wrapping paper.
“Is that-” Macau moves forward from his chair as he asks. And it is. Vegas takes out the small colourful book. Time has taken a toll on it but it still looks the same as he remembers it when his mother would read it to him.
It was a difficult decision to make. Vegas isn’t a selfless person. This book is his, it’s something his mom had gotten for him, it’s one of the few things she left him. But then he considered, Venice won’t have his mom. All he will ever have is his traumatised brothers acting as parental figures in a messed up family. Sure, he and Pete can do everything in their power to be good parents but Vegas is certain they won’t ever achieve what his own mother had, to be a harbour in the storm that is this family. Maybe Pete will come close with his smiles and shiny personality, but with his past it will be next to impossible to reach that level.
Then again, maybe Vegas is simply being pessimistic once again. Perhaps they will make this place a home for little Venice, hoping there won’t come a day they just disappear from his life, a very real possibility in their world. Perhaps Porsche was right, they’re doing good so far.
Vegas smiles as he opens the book and starts reading to the now one-year-old Venice.