Chapter Text
The day that Macau presents is entirely unremarkable, and- somehow- that makes it all the worse.
No one is expecting it. At the ripe age of 19, he had resolved himself to life as a beta, and he preferred it that way. He may be ignorant- partly due to the protective blinders Vegas constantly put over his eyes- but he’s not stupid. Word got around what his papa- and Uncle Korn- put his brother up to because of his presentation as an Omega. He’d seen the bruises- the way that Vegas would mask his limping behind long, falsely confident strides and the ever growing hollowness behind his eyes. Macau never asked because the last time he had tried Vegas clammed up- and then promptly proceeded to swipe all of the action figures on Macau’s shelf into a violated heap on the floor. Spiderman had lost an arm.
That’s how Macau knows not to ask because- for all of the righteous anger swirling in him like an infestation- Vegas had never taken it out on his little brother. Of course, he replaced Spiderman a few days after, dropping a featherlight kiss on Macau’s forehead and humming- I’m sorry I scared you, but let your hia worry about that stuff, okay? He never outright said what ‘that stuff’ entailed, but he didn’t need to. Macau knows.
And if he ever thought about it for too long, he felt sick- and would probably seek out Vegas where he was always reading a book on the couch, and nestle up against his side, and think I’m sorry, I’m so sorry you’ve suffered, I’m sorry you can’t run away because of me. Vegas would always just pull him close like he was something precious and not the tether tying him down to this Hell of a family.
But the point is- Macau has seen the fate of Omegas in their house. Not in the Main family- of course not- Porchay was treated like a king as Porsche’s baby brother and Kim’s pretty Omega boytoy. But in the Minor family, being an Omega might as well be the same thing as being labeled a piece of meat for the rest of your life. That’s why Macau has always been content with being a Beta.
Being an Alpha is too much responsibility, and being an Omega is a death sentence to your human rights. Plus, who would protect Vegas later on? Not because his brother needs protecting- not at all- but by the fucked up hierarchical standards rooted in this family- being a Beta may give him say over whether Vegas can be dragged through the door for those… meetings… or not. Not that it matters anymore.
Nothing matters.
Macau is curled up and shivering in one of the stalls in the Omegas’ washroom at school. He’s balled up his bomber jacket and stuffed it against the crack in the door to suppress the scent roiling off his body, but he knows it’s doing little to hide his plight. Just a few hours ago, he’d been messing around with his friends in Math class- unpresented as ever- and now he’s deep in the throes of preheat. A whine threatens to bubble out of his throat, and he bites his lip so hard he tastes blood to stifle it.
He’s seen Vegas in a preheat before. It’s not inherently sexual- if there’s no mate involved. Just like a really bad flu for a couple of days. Except Vegas would always be carted off- woozy and dazed- because some suitors preferred him vulnerable- and Macau’s heart pangs for his brother because this is already scary enough . Feeling so sick and out of control of your own body is bad on its own, but being forced by some sadistic Alpha on top of it? Macau wants nothing more than to hug Vegas right now. Not just for his brother, but himself . He’s scared. His stomach roils with cramps, his skin feels hot all over, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow.
He wants Vegas to draw him close and croon in that self-assured way he always does- it’s okay . Macau fumbles for his phone in the pocket of his jeans, heart pounding hummingbird fast inside his ribs. His fingers are so sweaty they slide across the screen, desperately searching out one specific name. All of his instincts scream for Vegas, but he bypasses the contact- the one with the dumb picture he got of his brother when he just woke up because he thought it was funny- and clicks on a different one instead. The tone rings like a death knell, counting down the seconds until his life is irrevocably changed forever.
Finally, it stops. “Macau?”
A tear slides down Macau’s face. “P’Pete? Can you come pick me up?”
Pete has been an interesting addition to their life- not unwelcome, but undeniably unfamiliar.
Vegas has always tried to shield Macau from the worst aspects of their family, but he’s also deep-rooted in them, which sometimes makes it hard. But Pete- Pete has walked through Hell all the same and come back smiling for it. Where Vegas chose malice and revenge, Pete chose acceptance and forgiveness. He’s like a sudden onslaught of light upon the Minor family that has always lurked in the shadows. Irreplaceable. Macau doesn’t think Vegas could live now without the warm rays of that smile directed at him, so Pete is very important to Macau too because he can’t live without Vegas. Plus- he plays Mario Kart with him.
Or, in this case, picks Macau up from school when he’s presenting out of nowhere and doesn’t ask any questions. His nose had wrinkled a little bit when he found the younger boy curled up and afraid on the bathroom floor, but then something like resolve had hardened his features and he helped him up onto shaking legs- let’s get you home, Khun Macau . So now they’re driving silently home, with Macau nestled against the window and drinking a milkshake. Pete hadn’t specified anything directly, but Macau supposes the ice cream helps the heat. He’d also been wordlessly handed painkillers that Pete pulled out of the glovebox. Probably an emergency stash for him and Vegas- and now, Macau, too.
The concept settles sort of like acid in the back of his throat. His head is pounding, and for some reason there’s pressure behind his eyes that he can’t quite blink away no matter how much he tries. A combination of fear from the sudden presentation, pain from the preheat, and burrowed deep down- worry that Vegas is going to be disappointed. Disappointed that the little brother he had spent his whole life suffering to protect was destined to meet the same fate anyway.
It’s that thought- peculiarly- that causes the dam to break. There’s a whole other jumble of emotions swirling in Macau’s chest that make his heart ache like it’s been stabbed, but nothing is quite so agonizing as the thought that Vegas will hate him for this. A choked off little sob bursts from his throat.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Pete stiffen imperceptibly. His knuckles blanch around his grip on the steering wheel, and he seems to take a moment to ponder something- and then he relaxes all at once and a soft, flowery scent floods Macau’s nose. As an unpresented, he’s never had the ability to smell like his brother, but everything feels amplified now. The chocolate on his straw, the air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror, and now- Pete’s scent. Instinct has his limbs going slack and his body slumping back against the seat. A pitiful little whine burbles from his throat, and more tears trickle down the sharp curve of his nose. Gentle hands pry the milkshake out of his hands, and suddenly, a tentative palm rests on his trembling shoulder. Soothing.
“Do you… want to talk about it?” Pete asks softly- not pressing, but with genuine concern.
The feeling of being treated so gently- of his tears being met with patience and sympathy instead of a heavy hand and screaming- only makes Macau cry harder. Pete seems to startle, thin fingers flinching where they rest across the younger boy’s neck, but then he hesitantly starts stroking circles into the tense muscle there with his thumb.
“Shh, Khun Macau,” he soothes kindly. “It’s going to be okay.”
Except- that’s the thing. “No, it’s-it’s not !”
He burrows himself further against the door, heat like pinpricks flaring up the base of his neck. Pete’s touch feels both calming and distressing. Macau suddenly regrets drinking the milkshake as his stomach churns with nausea. He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes and chokes out a pathetic little noise that is supposed to be a scream but comes out more like a whimper. The whimper of a pup. He’s 19-fucking-years old, and yet he can’t handle this. Vegas had presented early at 13- been touched and passed around like nothing less than a prize for his entire life- and yet he still carries himself like some omnipotent deity, for fuck’s sake. Everyone who knows Vegas has always said he came off larger than life. A tiny little Omega who was capable of tearing out Alpha’s teeth and making them beg all with a smile.
But Macau isn’t Vegas. He’s always been the runt of the litter. He can’t take the things life throws at him and come back stronger. So he sits and blubbers over being an Omega and possibly losing his brother forever while Pete rubs his shoulder and releases his calming scent like a balm through the car. He doesn’t even realize they’ve pulled over onto the side of the road till he notices the motion sickness coursing all through his veins has slowed to a more manageable trickle. There are tears clumped on his lashes and his body shakes faintly.
“Khun Macau…”
“Stop it with the Khun!” The younger snaps, and then immediately regrets it when Pete’s hand flinches off him. “I’m- I’m sorry… just- we know each other, P’Pete. You’re my brother’s mate. You don’t have to be so formal.”
Something like shock flashes through Pete’s eyes, and then they crinkle into those familiar crescent rays of sunshine and he returns his hand- to the base of Macau’s neck this time, thumb resting right above his sensitive scent gland.
“Okay, then, Macau… why’re you so upset?” He asks, testing the name out hesitantly on his tongue. “I know the connotations of being an Omega aren’t- great . But this seems like something more.”
Macau’s heartbeat quickens. He swallows thickly and averts his gaze to his lap. The combination of the heat fever and his unstable emotions have him feeling strung out and uncomfortably seen. He’s not as out of touch with emotional vulnerability as Vegas, but this feels… different. Pitiful. Weak. He thinks he can hear the ghost of his father’s shout if he strains his ears hard enough- weak, stupid boy. Your brother is useless, but you’re a disgrace .
“Whatifhiahatesme,” he blabbers out in-between a truly devastated sob that rattles his whole heaving chest.
Saying it out loud feels like speaking it into existence. He bows his head and lets the tears stain the denim of his jeans.
“ Slower , pup,” Pete hums patiently, the nickname coming out more naturally than even Macau’s given name had.
The younger Omega wipes frustratedly at his cheeks with a balled up hoodie sleeve and sniffles. “What if hia hates me?”
In the ensuing silence, you could hear a pin drop. Macau takes the lack of response as agreement and buries his tear-stained face in the crook of his arm, desperately trying not to have a full-on meltdown in front of Pete, and then his ears prick up at slightest sound- soft like wind chimes. It takes him a few moments to realize that Pete is laughing . His fingers dance up Macau’s neck to rest on his head, stroking through the ruffled black locks, and his thin frame shakes with subdued laughter. Macau really can’t figure out what’s so funny.
“P’Pete?” He questions helplessly.
The older Omega uses his free hand to cover his mouth. “I’m- I’m sorry, it’s just- Macau, your brother could never, ever hate you.”
Time seems to slow to a halt. Macau’s brain stutters to try and process the information it has just been granted. It’s annoying- really- that simply being told his brother doesn’t hate him is enough to make something warm and relieved pool into the pit of his stomach. He’s never really been the most emotional person to begin with, but maybe that’s just what comes with being an Omega, or presenting, or the fever that’s making his body feel so goddamn sore and achy.
But the certainty in Pete’s voice works wonders to soothe his spiraling thoughts. He takes a deep breath that burns like molten fire around his cries and turns his cheek to nuzzle the hand stroking his hair subconsciously. His nose bumps against the scent gland on Pete’s wrist, and the older Omega stills in momentary surprise. Then he resumes his petting as if nothing happened, his scent more comforting right at the source.
“Vegas loves you,” he says confidently, like Macau was crazy to ever question it. “He wouldn’t even be here without you. You’re all he’s ever had to live for.”
Macau whimpers at the implications, guilt itching at his conscience, but Pete clicks his tongue and runs a thumb along his scent gland to silence him. The younger Omega goes limp.
“Out of all the things you have to worry about, Vegas’ love is not one,” the older reassures him sternly. “Omega or not, you’re his younger brother and he’ll take care of you.”
He flashes his trademark sunshine grin. “If not, I’d bite him.”
Macau has half the mind to make a joke that Pete and Vegas already bite each other all the time. In very obvious, hard-to-cover places. But his breakdown has left him exhausted, and Pete’s been so nice that he doesn’t deserve to be teased right now. So Macau nestles into his hand and lets his teary eyes droop closed.
“Okay,” he whispers hoarsely.
“Okay?” Pete says, and then shoves the younger’s milkshake back into his hands. “Then let’s go home.”
Their home has always smelled like home - in that the scent of whatever Vegas cooked for the day lingered, and the fresh gardenias on the dining room table flooded the house in floral undertones, and if Pete did laundry the scent of vanilla permeated the living room where he liked to fold it. But Macau has never smelled home like this . He staggers inside like a newborn fawn, clutching his backpack to his chest, and is hit with an onslaught of different aromas. The tea Vegas must have been brewing, the lavender candle on the coffee table, the cleaning supplies under the sink in the kitchen. His nose is sensitive with the newness of it all. But most importantly is the sweet curl of cherry that floods his nostrils.
He’d heard around the house since he was little that Vegas had a rare scent- that’s why he was so popular with the Alphas that Gun and Korn sealed deals with- but Macau had never known what to expect. It reminds him of the wine his brother always drinks. Strong yet saccharine. It feels like safety. Macau knows that Vegas hates his scent for what it’s represented his entire life, but the younger Omega can’t help but trill at the comfort of it now. He wonders what he smells like.
The sound must alert his sibling because seconds later there are light footsteps padding toward him and Vegas emerges from the living room in all his elegance. Not a hair out of place- his steps are confident and powerful. A stark contrast to the mess that Macau makes shivering like a wet pup on their welcome mat. He feels those feline-like eyes bore into him and can’t help squeezing his own shut. Pete’s arm rests on the crook of his back in silent support.
Then Vegas’ voice reaches his ears in a disbelieving croak. “You’re an Omega ?”
This is moments before Macau flinches back, terrified that the tone means rejection, and only seconds before he finds himself yanked into a tight embrace. His nose bumps against Vegas’ shoulder as the older Omega chases away all his worries and insecurities with the strongest hug he’s ever received. Pete’s voice echoes in his head- Vegas loves you . He thinks it might be true, and then has the absurd realization that he’s started crying again. Not in shrill wails like with Pete earlier, but soft little whimpers and hiccups that shake through his frame into Vegas’ own. He nuzzles his face against the taller man’s shoulder and sobs.
“I’m sorry,” he says- because he feels like he needs to.
The arms around him get impossibly tighter, and a growl bubbles out of Vegas’ throat. Makes Macau go slack in submission and whine into the older man’s tear-stained neck.
“Don’t apologize,” his brother orders. “Never apologize for this- not to me, not to anyone .”
Macau sniffles. “But- but now it’s all for nothing !”
The exclamation makes perfect sense to his fever-dazed brain, but Vegas makes a noise of confusion and draws back just enough to look Macau in the eyes. His are steely slits where the younger Omega’s are black holes of devastation.
He brushes a stray lock of hair from the shorter boy’s sweat-slick forehead. “What is, pup?”
If Macau were thinking straighter, he would remember yelling and a broken Spiderman toy and let hia worry about it- but, objectively, he’s in the throes of preheat and feels like shit that his brother has suffered this and more for years while Macau lived in ignorant bliss. So his mouth runs before he has the self-preservation to stop it.
“ You ! All the-the Alphas papa made you do- do things with! I know you couldn’t do any-anything because papa and uncle Korn always held me over your head! I know you would’ve tried to run by now if it weren’t for me! And now-now I’m an Omega so you can’t even protect me anymore! Uncle Korn will catch wind of it and make me do thing-things with Alphas too, and you can’t do anything anymore to stop-stop it! You should’ve gotten away when you had the chance because I’m gon-gonna be hur-hurt now anyway and you suffered so much for no reason because I’m use-useless-”
He can’t breathe. His head is spinning. He grapples for Vegas’ arms, desperately trying to make him understand just how badly Macau has doomed them.
“This was the one thing I could do for you, hia, and it’s all fucked up now!” He wails helplessly like a pup.
The room goes dead silent. Macau can’t even see Vegas’ expression through the thick film of tears clouding his vision. He sort of expects to get hit. After all, he basically just unloaded all of Vegas’ trauma into his face, and in front of his mate nonetheless. Macau doesn’t know the logistics of his brother’s relationship with Pete- and, quite frankly, he doesn’t want to- but he knows that Vegas tries to impose some semblance of put-togetherness for the older Omega. He doesn’t like to seem weak. Macau doesn’t even know if Pete knows about all the things Vegas has been made to do, but he thinks he has to have caught wind of it as a bodyguard for the Main family for so long. He knows now- anyway.
Macau expects a lot of things. What he really isn’t ready for is for Pete’s willowy shadow to move in his peripheral and capture Vegas in a side hug of sorts. His brother is still holding onto Macau’s shoulders, but his hands have started trembling. That’s when Macau realizes that- even worse than Vegas getting angry and hitting him- he’s started crying . Little choked off sobs burst past his trembling lips, and his scent goes rotten with distress. Pete dutifully clings to his side, nuzzling the younger man’s neck, and Macau feels like a fucking monster. Then Vegas cups the nape of his neck and presses their foreheads together. Both of them are crying.
“Macau,” he says shakily, but even when his face is crumpled and tear-streaked- he still manages to sound stern. “Are you seriously telling me that you believe all of that?”
What a peculiar question. Macau thought it was common sense that Vegas blamed him for all of his plights, but the older Omega is looking at him with something near devastation at the mere thought. There are tears glistening on his dark lashes. Pete watches Macau carefully out of the corner of his eye, flooding both his and Vegas’ sour scents with his own comfortingly floral one. They sit there for a few moments- catching their breaths.
Macau’s legs are shaking and his stomach is starting to cramp with vengeance once more. His head is a mess. He tries to answer his brother, but it’s like the hazy cloud of instinct in his hindbrain is spurred on by the high emotions suffocating the room. All he wants is to be wrapped up in Vegas’ arms and scent again. Maybe Pete’s, too- if the older Omega wants to touch him again after this.
So he reaches out pitifully for Vegas’ hands on his shaking shoulders and very carefully pulls his arms back over them. Nestles his tear-stained face in the crook of the older man’s neck.
“I don’t know, hia,” he whines brokenly- because suddenly everything hurts too much to keep having this conversation. “M’sorry.”
Vegas stiffens, and then squeezes him with all the force of a raging fire. He rests his chin on top of Macau’s head and smooths a palm up the younger Omega’s trembling back. The shorter thinks he hears him call Pete closer- c’mere, baby - and then another set of arms wrap around him, and suddenly they’re interlocked in what is reminiscent of a puppy pile in the living room. Everything feels right for a moment. Macau breathes in both of their scents and lets them soothe the aches and pains.
“I love you,” Vegas breathes against his hair. “We’ll talk about it later, pup, but I love you and I’m not going to let any Alpha- or anyone - touch you. Okay? Can you believe me?”
Macau feels nimble fingers card through his hair, and thinks, in that moment at least, he can accept Vegas’ words as truth.
He nods, once, and it’s enough for now.