#fiddlepickdouglas

"Where do you want to go?" Vegas had let the question escape his mouth in a whisper against Pete's neck, just under his ear lobe. It was his favorite place to place his lips, and he definitely noticed how sensitive the skin was there for Pete. "Name the place, and I will take you there."

Pete and Vegas had been sharing a bath for quite sometime now, having to refill it twice so far because the water had gotten cold. Pete had been nestled in between Vegas's legs, back resting against his chest. "What's the occasion?" he asks as his eyes started to become droopy.

"You didn't think that I would forget, did you?" The tone in his voice was playfully hurt, something that Pete noticed, and clicked his tongue at. "I've been working hard in order to request time off for this."

The 'this' in which he speaks of is the anniversary of the day Pete forgave and accepted his feelings for him. It may be such a trivial thing to celebrate, but for Vegas, it meant the world.

"You hadn't been home in weeks, but to sleep and shower," Pete defends. He leans his head back against Vegas's shoulder, and tilts his head slightly to look at him. "I wasn't thinking much of anything other than neglect."

Vegas frowned. "It was the only way Porsche would let me take the time off. That guy has been a pain in my ass over it."

"That's my best friend that you are bad mouthing right now," Pete warns.

"And you know that I am right," he answers calmly.

Pete didn't respond, and lifted his head back up to look at the slowly disappearing bubbles. For a while, they sat in silence, neither of them uttering a word. It wasn't until Pete drained the tub for the last time that anything was said. "I want to go to the beach," he answers finally. "Before it starts to get cold. I want to go to the beach."

"The beach it is."

A few days later, the two of them arrive at a privately owned beach, one of which is owned through a friend of Vegas's. He had chosen this specifically for the sights, and how sealed off it was from outsiders. Not only that, but it had a cove that Vegas was most interested in Pete seeing, and maybe even having a picnic at.

"Wow," comes Pete, astonished by the sights that he was seeing. He looked at the two story beach house in awe at how large it was. "Are you sure that it's okay that we can stay here? Seems like we should be paying to stay here."

"My friend owes me the favor," he tells him, with a pleased smile at how happy Pete looked. "So as long as we clean up after ourselves, and don't break anything, I don't owe him anything."

"I want to have a look inside!" shouts a very excited Pete as runs up the steps, and into the house.

Vegas stood there for a few seconds, taking in the sights, and just thinking about how needed this will be for the both of them.

Later that night after dinner, Pete poked at Vegas until he finally agreed to going out back to sit in the hot tub. The nights had been starting to get cooler, so it made it the best time for a dip. "What are you doing, Pete?" questions Vegas as he watches the other slide his trunks down over his hips, letting them fall to his feet, and then kicking them out of the way.

"What do you mean by, 'What are you doing?'" he responds with another question.

Vegas watches as Pete plays innocent all the way inside the hot tub, and submerges half of himself in the steamy water. What an evil little shit, he thought to himself. "You know that I can't control myself when you act this way," he lightly warns, following Pete's lead by ridding himself of his own trunks. He then heads over to the hot tub himself, and takes the spot beside Pete.

"I have absolutely not a single clue as to what you could possibly be talking about," Pete says, continuing on with this act that he is doing. "I'm just letting the warmth of this hot tub reach every inch of me. What could be so wrong with that?"

Vegas had enough of this little game Pete was playing. He couldn't take the teasing any longer, and Pete knew that. Vegas grabbed Pete by the waist, and then lifted him onto his lap. This had Pete grinning in satisfaction, but not for long. He slid his hands from Pete's waist up along his back, toward his neck, and pulled his head down to capture his lips with his own. The little muffled moan didn't go unnoticed, and neither did the attempt at grinding himself against Vegas. Before Vegas could respond, however, he could hear his cell phone ringing from inside the house.

"Ignore that," Vegas tells Pete, who seemed to have had peeked interest at the fact that someone was calling this late. He focused his attention back on Pete, moving his lips along the other's jaw line, dragging his tongue along his skin.

The phone continues to ring, and Pete pulls away from him annoyed.

"You either go and answer that, or I will put a bullet in it."

Finding it best not to argue with him, Vegas brings himself out of the hot tub, grabbing the towel he brought out to use as he heads back inside. Carefully walking his way through the kitchen, he grabs his phone from the kitchen table, answering it with a sigh. "It hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours yet," he complains. "What could you possibly want from me right now?"

On the other end of the phone is Porsche, who seemed apologetic, but not enough to hang up the phone call. "I know I promised you a full twenty-four hours before I would order you to continue on with this job, but it turns out that they are moving out tonight. I need you at the drop sight before dawn, before they get there. I've sent some guys down there to assist you in your cover, they will arrive around the same time that you do."

"Porsche, I have plans set for Pete and I all day, you can't expect me to just ditch him..."

"This wouldn't be the first time you've hurt his feelings, and it won't be the last. Before dawn, Vegas. Lord help you if you fuck this up."

The line went dead, and Vegas had to refrain from throwing his phone. "Just one fucking week," he says through clenched teeth. "One fucking worry free week, and he can't even give me that!"

The following afternoon after convincing the buyer that he needed time to think, he was in the kitchen cooking lunch for Pete who had been still sleeping. Before they had gone to bed, Vegas had explained the circumstances of this trip, and tried his damnedest for Pete to understand, as well as forgive him for partially deceiving him. Pete said that he understood, but Vegas knew that he was in a deep shit with him.

In the midst of finishing placing everything on the table, Pete finally makes an appearance, although very sluggishly. "It smells good," he tells him with a tad bit of a groggy voice. "When did you get in?"

Vegas places the last dish on the table and urges Pete to have a seat. "Not too long ago," he answers, and takes a seat himself. "I would have woken you, but you looked like you needed the rest, so I left you sleeping."

"Leaving someone to fend for themselves will do that," he answers with an attitude, one that he quickly apologises for. "Sorry... That wasn't fair for me to say."

"It's valid though, and I'm sorry too."

They both end up eating in silence. Not one looked up at the other, and neither one spoke a word. The only sounds you could hear with the scraping of forks and spoons against plates. Vegas would steal a few glances at Pete, watching as he complimented it with each bite that he took. It was cute, how even though Pete was clearly upset with him, he still managed to make him smile in the smallest of ways.

"There is a festival happening in town," Vegas begins carefully, breaking the silence as they both had finished eating. Pete was cleaning up the table as Vegas watched, something he often did because he just looked so damn attractive while he was cleaning. "Not sure for what, but my friend said that they are really fun, so I was thinking that we should go..."

Pete just shrugged, and began to fill the sink up with soap and water. Vegas sighed heavily, and got up from his seat. He hated when Pete was mad at him, but he just couldn't stand when Pete wouldn't engage in conversation with him. "Pete..." he pouts as he comes up behind the other and wraps his arms around his waist. "Don't be like this. You know that this vacation is all about me and you."

"And the job that Porsche sent you here to do, right?"

"Ouch," Vegas mumbles.

Pete turns around in Vegas's arms, and brings his arms around to hug him. "I'm sorry," he tells him again. "I guess I'm just upset that you weren't just honest with me from the start, instead if finding all of this out while trying to actually spend a decent night with you."

"I know, and you're right. I should have told you about the job that I was sent here to do before we even left."

"I just said that," teases Pete, and he yelps when Vegas moves his hands down to dig his fingers into Pete's ass.

"You really like trying me, don't you?" When Pete doesn't answer, Vegas moves his hands from Pete's ass to inside his pants, and then slides one of them in between the both of them. It was the gripping of something else, and the motion in which Vegas was moving his hand that caused a whole different noise to leave Pete's throat. "You've been awfully daring with that mouth of yours lately."

"Stop giving me a reason to be," Pete breathes out, only to find his hips jerking forward on their own accord when Vegas begins to work his hand all too well.

"See," he whispers into his ear, his lips brushing against Pete's ear lobe. "There you go again, thinking that you can just say anything without repercussions."

Pete swallowed hard, and attempted to hold back another moan, but it was useless with Vegas rubbing the pad of his thumb over the tip of his cock. It made him weak, it made him crumble, the things his fingers could do to him. Pete's legs began to buckle beneath him, and Vegas was quick to pin him back against the sink.

"Vegas," he whispers, his head falling back, and his eyes shutting. Vegas places a kiss to Pete's exposed neck, giving him a few licks and nips as he does so. He looks up at the other, watching as Pete unravels at his touch.

Then again, like clock work it seemed, Vegas's phone rang. "Don't," Pete forces out. "Don't you fucking dare."

He didn't want to, god did he not want to. If he didn't answer the phone, Porsche would kill him. "I'm sorry," he says softly, and retracts his hand from Pete's pants. He pulls away from him, only to have his hard sink at the sight of Pete falling to the floor, hard, and pissed off. Vegas takes his phone from his pocket and answers it. "Yes?"

As Vegas spoke with Porsche, Pete sat up against the cabinet beneath the sink, chest heaving, and his eyes shooting daggers up at him. When Vegas finishes the call with Porsche, Pete looks at him for a few moments before finally getting up from the floor. Not sparing him even a glance, Pete walks past Vegas to exit the kitchen.

"Where are you going, Pete?"

"To go take a shower and finish what your ass fucking started."

The following day, Vegas was determined to spend all his time with Pete, even if it killed him, which it still might. He started the day off by pampering Pete in various ways, as an apology for being the world's greatest asshole on a vacation. He drew him a bath with smelling salts and bubbles. He then lit a safe amount of candles around the tub in order to set a relaxing mood.

After the bath, Vegas gave Pete a massage, which he found that was well needed after all the knots that he had found. "Am I hurting you?" he had asked him, referring to the pained noises coming from him. To which he responded, "Yes, but it hurts so fucking good, so don't stop." This made him laugh, and then he just continued on with it.

He then topped it off with a nice breakfast poolside as they watched the sun come up. They sat side by side at first, but then Pete eventually ended up sitting on Vegas's lap, complaining that the wind was far too chilly to be sitting alone.

Now Vegas was in the car waiting for Pete to finish packing the picnic basket. "You've done so much for me this morning, let me take care of lunch," Pete had told him while they were putting together beach bags. Vegas didn't argue, mostly because he really didn't want to make Pete angry again, but also because it didn't matter to him who it was that made the lunch, he just wanted today to go perfectly.

"Hey," comes Pete's voice as he get into the passenger's seat, and shuts the car door. "Are you alright?"

"Hm?" responds Vegas, having not been paying attention. "Oh, yeah, yeah. I was just lost in thought."

"If it was involving that job again..."

"No, no! It wasn't. I was just thinking about you, and wanting today to go as planned is all."

Pete, although skeptically, just flashes him a smile, and pats his thigh. "Relax, I'm just teasing." He tugs on his seat belt and fastens it, and then makes sure that it's secure. "Where are we going today anyways?

Vegas shook his head. "I'm not telling you because it is a surprise."

"Vegas!" Pete ran excitedly, dragging him through the small man-made path to the little cove that he had wanted Pete to see. "Look at this view! Look at it!"

"I see it, I see it," Vegas responds, laughing lightly at how enthusiastic Pete was at the sight before them.

Pete let go of Vegas, and ran across the sand, surprising even himself that he didn't fall flat on his face. "Wow," he gasps, looking out at the crystal clear blue water. He dropped his beach bag beside him, and slid out of his flip flops. He instantly heads into the water, and bends over slightly to look at his feet under the water. The entire sight of it all: Pete kicking one foot back and forth to see if the water changed color from the sand being moved, and then gasping in awe that it remained its clear blue color, just the kid in him showing made his heart flutter.

He was reminded because of it, just how much he loves Pete, and why he fell in love with him. Despite everything he has put him through, and how much pain he has caused him, he still manages to let it go, and still love him anyways.