There weren't a lot of things that made Vito nervous.
He was never the anxious type. Vito took things as they came and handled the consequences appropriately. There were a handful of things he couldn't bear to get hurt, but aside from that, he wasn't an emotional man. This whole set up however, with his entire apartment adorned with ribbons, candles and roses, and dinner table decorated with lace and serving handmade food he'd been working on since that morning — this was unrelated to danger. It was related to love.
Love. It was a tricky subject. Before Klaus, he had a few serious significant others and then, after repeated massive failure, none at all. He'd given up on it at some point. It wasn't for him, he told himself. He had a handful of things he was good at, but it wasn't people, and it especially wasn't being in a relationship with people. He still fell in love of course, but he didn't even try to be with them anymore.
And then Klaus came along. He'd loved him for years. The man barely glanced in his direction, but Vito was enamored by his charisma, his kindness, his cleverness, his looks, just, just anything and everything about him. It was like worshiping a deity from afar. Vito served in silence with nothing but Klaus' interests in mind until he was forced out of his hiding spot when Klaus' life was threatened by his lover. He sought him out, and saw something in him that made him want to take him in as a lover. To this day, he wasn't sure why.
But it worked out somehow. Here they were, eight years later, with a number of kids and still together. Still like... this. This little "family" made Vito endlessly happy, his kids and Klaus. But as he got older, dread began to settle into him. Was he destined to be like this forever? Just one of his lovers, even if he was a favorite? His parents would ask him when he was going to take his life seriously, get into a real business, and start a family, and every time, Vito couldn't answer them.
How long did he have left? It couldn't have been more than fifty more years, and Vito was losing that small window of opportunity set up in his youth. Say he had fifty more years. Would he spend that still being Klaus' second? Was that what he was always going to be, a lackey, a second, another lover in a sea of other lovers? As unwelcome as his parents' prodding were, they were true. He was stuck here in his empty apartment. Get up, go to work, talk to kids, and then sleep. Safety in monotony. Was that true? Or was that an excuse? What if he wanted to put himself out there, go somewhere, be something? Start a family, have children and a house that were his? What if he had a last name that was his?
Was this so bad?
He tried to stomach the idea of having a wife and kids, and he couldn't even imagine other faces than the ones he had now. He couldn't wake up to kiss someone other than Klaus, and he couldn't think of children without thinking of his children — Shay's small face peering at him, Quin's bright grin. How did he get here? He felt like hyperventilating every time he thought about it, having all this, being allowed to touch and hold and be called father and husband when they weren't even his. He was going to die an unmarried man projecting a deluded fantasy while living with the knowledge that this was his own doing. He couldn't have been more terrified.
But if he was going to do this, he was going to do this in a way that didn't sting so much. Coming home to an empty apartment with nothing but silence to accompany him was the real problem, he thought. These thoughts never haunted him when he was holding Klaus or when he was talking to his children. Maybe if he lived in a house where he woke up next to Klaus everyday, with hallways filled with echoes of children talking and laughing and screaming that they were going to tell on each other, maybe that would be better.
He knew with the way things were set up currently, it would be difficult to convince Klaus to give up his way of life. He was going to ask him to move in anyway. If it didn't pan out, he'd push for partial custody because it would be good for the kids to live somewhere quiet and private, in a large house with a lovely garden and a pool. He wouldn't begrudge him of that. Shouldn't.
Klaus was coming over soon. He shouldn't feel like this, like a bundle of nerves. It was unbecoming. Vito was cleaned up nicely. He wasn't a looker, but he tried, putting on a loose shirt on and slacks. He readied himself to be devastated, but he was terrified of it actually happening. How would it ruin him, he wondered?
When the door opened, Vito stood up, ready to greet him.
He was never the anxious type. Vito took things as they came and handled the consequences appropriately. There were a handful of things he couldn't bear to get hurt, but aside from that, he wasn't an emotional man. This whole set up however, with his entire apartment adorned with ribbons, candles and roses, and dinner table decorated with lace and serving handmade food he'd been working on since that morning — this was unrelated to danger. It was related to love.
Love. It was a tricky subject. Before Klaus, he had a few serious significant others and then, after repeated massive failure, none at all. He'd given up on it at some point. It wasn't for him, he told himself. He had a handful of things he was good at, but it wasn't people, and it especially wasn't being in a relationship with people. He still fell in love of course, but he didn't even try to be with them anymore.
And then Klaus came along. He'd loved him for years. The man barely glanced in his direction, but Vito was enamored by his charisma, his kindness, his cleverness, his looks, just, just anything and everything about him. It was like worshiping a deity from afar. Vito served in silence with nothing but Klaus' interests in mind until he was forced out of his hiding spot when Klaus' life was threatened by his lover. He sought him out, and saw something in him that made him want to take him in as a lover. To this day, he wasn't sure why.
But it worked out somehow. Here they were, eight years later, with a number of kids and still together. Still like... this. This little "family" made Vito endlessly happy, his kids and Klaus. But as he got older, dread began to settle into him. Was he destined to be like this forever? Just one of his lovers, even if he was a favorite? His parents would ask him when he was going to take his life seriously, get into a real business, and start a family, and every time, Vito couldn't answer them.
How long did he have left? It couldn't have been more than fifty more years, and Vito was losing that small window of opportunity set up in his youth. Say he had fifty more years. Would he spend that still being Klaus' second? Was that what he was always going to be, a lackey, a second, another lover in a sea of other lovers? As unwelcome as his parents' prodding were, they were true. He was stuck here in his empty apartment. Get up, go to work, talk to kids, and then sleep. Safety in monotony. Was that true? Or was that an excuse? What if he wanted to put himself out there, go somewhere, be something? Start a family, have children and a house that were his? What if he had a last name that was his?
Was this so bad?
He tried to stomach the idea of having a wife and kids, and he couldn't even imagine other faces than the ones he had now. He couldn't wake up to kiss someone other than Klaus, and he couldn't think of children without thinking of his children — Shay's small face peering at him, Quin's bright grin. How did he get here? He felt like hyperventilating every time he thought about it, having all this, being allowed to touch and hold and be called father and husband when they weren't even his. He was going to die an unmarried man projecting a deluded fantasy while living with the knowledge that this was his own doing. He couldn't have been more terrified.
But if he was going to do this, he was going to do this in a way that didn't sting so much. Coming home to an empty apartment with nothing but silence to accompany him was the real problem, he thought. These thoughts never haunted him when he was holding Klaus or when he was talking to his children. Maybe if he lived in a house where he woke up next to Klaus everyday, with hallways filled with echoes of children talking and laughing and screaming that they were going to tell on each other, maybe that would be better.
He knew with the way things were set up currently, it would be difficult to convince Klaus to give up his way of life. He was going to ask him to move in anyway. If it didn't pan out, he'd push for partial custody because it would be good for the kids to live somewhere quiet and private, in a large house with a lovely garden and a pool. He wouldn't begrudge him of that. Shouldn't.
Klaus was coming over soon. He shouldn't feel like this, like a bundle of nerves. It was unbecoming. Vito was cleaned up nicely. He wasn't a looker, but he tried, putting on a loose shirt on and slacks. He readied himself to be devastated, but he was terrified of it actually happening. How would it ruin him, he wondered?
When the door opened, Vito stood up, ready to greet him.
