Archive of Our Own ^beta

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“We’re going to be late,” Logan said, testily glancing at his watch.

“Oh, keep your pants on, nerd. Or don’t if it’ll keep your undies out of a twist. The party doesn’t really start until we get there anyway.”

“Remus, we’re going to a funeral.”

“Uh-huh, and clearly I’m the only one that’s gonna be bringing the F-U-N,” Remus said. “Though I can always hold the N if you want me to bring the D instead, if you get my meaning.”

“’Fud’ is not a word.”

“I mean, if you want I could just F-U.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t.”

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"It's just you and me here now, Daddy-Pat."

"Remus, I can't-"

"You can, though. You want to. You think I don't know? I've heard every nagging thought you've been shoving out of your head all day."

Patton swallowed back a sound.

"You want this," Remus said. "You want this so bad. And you're too afraid to go to my brother to get it. Afraid of what he'll think..."

"I-"

But Remus spun him around by his shoulders, and Patton found himself suddenly back-to-chest, staring out at...

Out at the swamp that Remus had made just for him.

"Leap, little froggy."

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Janus often thought that Remus's most frustrating trait was also his most endearing. Because deep down, beneath all of his nonsense and chaos, beneath the stream of filth he gleefully brought out in mixed company, and despite his utter distractability, it was easy to miss just how clever Remus actually was. It was so easy to underestimate him.

The other sides understood that there was usually an angle with Janus, but so far Remus still had them all fooled...

(If he were honest, Janus might even say he was a little bit jealous...but when had he ever been honest?)

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The real tragedy of their frequent conflicts was that, at the root, their goals were painfully similar. Both of them wanted to see Thomas achieve great things. They both wanted him to reach for the stars. They just…differed on which stars were worth reaching for.

Roman wanted stardom. He wanted glory. He wanted Thomas to burn brightly.

Logan wanted him to keep seeking. To keep learning. To keep improving. His star was Thomas becoming the best version of himself that he could be.

(If they couldn’t work together, they knew all he would achieve was to burn out instead.)

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Because Pride had become such an important part of Thomas's life, it was also a point of contention. 

Roman hadn't forgiven Janus for the years of secrecy before Thomas's coming out. To forgive, Roman would first have to understand. 

Roman was Thomas's ego, and he was strong enough for Thomas to love himself...most of the time. 

He hadn't always been.

Janus's lies had saved Roman and Thomas from taking numerous blows before they were ready—when they had been young, and still vulnerable enough to be crushed.

(But what hero spared a thought for the wounds they hadn't suffered?)

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Once they were committed to spending the month in Black Lake, Virgil realized there was...a problem. Living on the edge of a lake, Janus needed to know how to swim.

But getting him in the water meant exposing him to radiation.

The boy was mostly clean right now. If he gave him a couple Rad-X beforehand and let the doc treat him afterward it should be...fine.

Right?

(When, after an hour of happily splashing around, the boy had taken hardly any rads at all, it seemed clear the kid's mutations had done him a few favors, at least.)

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Janus's serpentine characteristics were often a challenge, one which, quite unfairly, he alone was forced to navigate. None of the others dealt with scales or their subsequent shedding. And with weather in the mindscape being subject to whim, a sudden yearning for fall or winter often made being cold-blooded truly annoying.

Still, at the height of summer—when the heat was all that Thomas could think about—it was an advantage that made the others burn with envy...

"Ugh, how are you still wearing that? It's like...a thousand degrees outside."

"You know, you're right. I'm going to go sunbathe..."

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"Janus, Remus and I both saw the kill, give it up."

"Which is suspicious in its own right, is it not, Roman? As if you and your brother naturally agree on anything? I'd say it's quite convenient that the two of you have joined together in your accusations. There are typically two impostors to a crew, after all. Confess!"

In the ghost chat, Logan said:

"This is not the stimulating deductive play I was promised. Why did the others agree to play this game?"

"He black mailed most of us," Virgil replied. "Though he probably bribed Patton with cookies."

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Given their skeletal and decayed appearance, people often associated ghouls with the dead. Yet ghouls were some of the most haunted people you could ever meet. Haunted by pasts left behind and by the uncertainty of their futures, their long years left them walking through a world of potential ghosts, hunted by the stalking specter of their own corruption.

Fear and loss had formed Virgil into a wandering spirit, unable to rest in peace. Janus understood better than most what ghosts still haunted him. But Janus refused to be treated like one of those ghosts while he was still alive.

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With typical silliness, the mindscape seemed to enjoy bestowing certain turns of phrase with irritating literalness...
 
Cold stares, a chill reception, the cold shoulder.
 
Things had become...unseasonably frosty around the mindscape, of late. And Janus was more than used to it by now, but... 
 
It was...disheartening to watch Patton shiver. Janus didn't have much body heat to offer, but then that wasn't where the chill was coming from. That wasn't the kind of warmth that Patton needed.
 
(Though he wasn't the most warm-blooded individual in that regard, either.)

Still, even cold comfort was better than no comfort at all.

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Patton wasn't proud of the yelp he let out when he woke up to Remus hissing in his ear: "We need to bake something."

"What?" 

"We need to bake something. Me and you. Right now."

"We- What? Why?"

"Yes. Doesn't matter as long as it's warm, and I'll show you after we make it."

Patton frowned, suspicious of the request. But then it wasn't every day Remus asked him for a favor.

(Two hours, some minor burns, and three failed batches later, when they surprised a very cold snake with some very warm muffins, Patton decided he didn't regret it.)

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"Just because I've seen it doesn't mean I know all the finer points of lore," Janus argued. "Besides, maybe I'd just like to hear you explain it..."

They were settled on the couch together, the cartoon paused, and Janus had his legs thrown comfortably across Emile's lap.

"It's a self-referential joke," Emile explained. "The writers are poking fun at themselves. Early in the show's run it was criticized as nonsensical and overly emotional. 'Who wants to watch a cartoon where everyone is crying?'"

"Yes, hence the sobbing foodstuffs," Janus reasoned. "Now, please explain why you'd say I'm the pear again..."

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"What are you doing?"

"Just making myself cozy," Remus said. "Grabbed myself the comfiest seat in the mindscape."

He was stretched out on the couch, arms pillowed behind his head, looking more than cozy enough...

Though his rear-end rested in the lap of a rather helpless-looking Patton.

"Vacate now and I'll owe you a favor," Janus said. "The fun kind."

Remus left, no doubt eager to plan how best to cash in.

"I thought he'd never le-"

Patton's words cut off, red-faced as Janus promptly claimed the vacant position on his lap.

"What- What're you-"

"Oh, just making myself cozy..."

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Virgil glared as Janus entered the room, which was unfortunately business as usual these days.

"What crime am I guilty of this time?" 

"I don't like how comfortable you're getting around here."

"Shouldn't I be?" Janus asked. "You can't honestly expect that I'm going anywhere at this point."

Virgil didn't answer, and his glare didn't let up. Making a decision, Janus sat down on the couch beside him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Janus said, "and I'm certainly not looking to push you out. So get cozy, because we're both going to be here for a while."

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Of course green was his favorite color. It was the color of dark magic and rot. It was life and death, together and inseparable. It was mold on bread, scum in a pond. Green was untamed. It loved to show up where it was least expected—a five day old bruise, weeds creeping in uninvited, speckled mildew on a favorite shirt left too long in the hamper.

Aphids clustered like lice around the bud of a soft red rose.

(But it was the color of envy, too. Of eyes too used to looking upon things he didn't get to have.)

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Janus knew when to sit and accept his punishment.

Well. Not punishment per se—more…payment for services rendered. Patton had done him a favor, allowing Janus to take his place in a recent video. And it might have been a trivial instance—just a gaming stream for the patreon—but it was still a willing concession on the moral side's part. One that might prime him for further collaboration to come…

And if his success required a favor in return, then a picnic wasn't the worst consequence.

Even if it also meant letting Patton braid dandelions around his hat.

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Janus didn't have a crush. That would have been ridiculous. 

And if he had—which he didn't, of course—he couldn't imagine himself ever thinking of it as a crush. Surely that would only cheapen it. Some loves went beyond words, beyond simple feeling. Indeed, Janus doubted there were words in any language that could begin to describe what he was feeling-

Wasn't feeling.

Though it couldn't be said that Janus felt...nothing. On the contrary, he felt so much...

Because it was Thomas. And Thomas deserved everything.

And Janus would always fight to give him everything. No matter what.

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Being an outcast within the mindscape was a full time job. Whatever role they had been created for, it made doing it so much harder. They had spent most of their lives fighting to make themselves heard—to be the force in Thomas's life that he needed them to be, whether he wanted them or not.

It was hard. It was tiring.

Janus had hated it, but in trying times it was important to find ways to keep oneself going...

And sometimes self care was just you and a friend breaking into your enemy's room to play Dance Dance Revolution.

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It had been difficult to find a proper sunbeam back when Thomas was still suppressing him. Sunlight within the mindscape wasn't real, of course—like most parts of their imaginary world, it was a manifestation, and manifestations were easily influenced by context, by mood, by attitude. 

Spending nearly three decades fighting to fulfill his purpose had left him overburdened with resentment and sour vibes, and pale, thin light that rarely managed to warm. 

But the sun was brighter for him now that Thomas had accepted him.

Thomas understood, now, that Janus was on his side...and that felt warm too.

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