Chapter Text
Janus pointedly cleared his throat as he turned a page, resisting the urge to turn around and confront whoever was skulking around in his room. The rest of his brain caught up with him, and he relaxed, letting out the shallow breath he was holding. Only one person visited him in his room.
Remus gave up the pretense of stealth and draped himself over Janus' shoulder. “DeeDee?”
“Yes, Remus?” Janus flicked another unread page. The twins weren't the only ones who loved a bit of drama.
“How would you feel about being the snake up my butt?”
Janus hesitated before he bookmarked the page and spun the chair around away from his desk, steepling his fingers. “I can’t say I’d be delighted.” He reflected on his energy levels and added, “If you’re willing to work for it.”
Remus’ gaze raked over him. “Yeah?”
“You’ll need to lend me a hand or more, of course.” Janus spread his knees. “You may spring to action at a moment’s notice, but as you can see, I was totally expecting you to return from the Imagination and come to me expecting a fuck.” That was only half a lie. Janus had stayed up for the past three days hoping Remus would visit. Sometimes it was for sex. Sometimes he just wanted to describe his misadventures in vivid detail.
Remus' eyes lit up as he dropped between Janus' knees. His clothing oozing off of him and fading into the floor.
The sight of the Duke in his birthday suit certainly moved things along, Janus' groin going tight and hot. Remus undoing his fly, fishing out his cocks and motor-boating them did not move things along.
Janus chuckled and made a show of settling comfortably in the chair. “I’m certain that sort of thing will get me hard right away. Keep it up. You’ll get some dick in the next week or two.”
Remus could take his time if he wanted; it wasn’t the first time Janus let him just touch and play with him to fill his need to contact.
Whatever Remus had gotten up to over the past week must have left him desperate. He sucked Janus off properly after that warning. Working each cock, one at a time, all the way down before dropping his jaw obscenely wide and getting both heads in his mouth.
The first time he managed that trick, back when they were fumbling teens, Janus found it less pleasurable as he’d anticipated. Too cramped, too close to teeth and the hard roof of Remus’ mouth. After all these years it still wasn’t anything to write home about.
But the sight of Remus' earnest attempts to pull all of him in deep, his blissed-out, tear-streaked face was worth the strangeness. Janus cradled the back of Remus' head. Amused and besotted by how Remus humped his leg while gagging on two dicks just for the hedonistic thrill of being filled. It made Janus’ heart stutter with the emotion that he would never name out loud.
Remus named it anyway. “God, I love your cocks,” he said once he’d pulled off, his lips red and spit slicked. Rubbing Janus over his face with his eyes closed, he missed the sad smile. Something in Janus' chest shifted, and his breathing faltered.
I’m having a lovely time no matter what he does or doesn't say.
He bolstered himself with that half-truth and stroked Remus’ jaw tenderly.
So tenderly that Remus peered up, confused. Embarrassment curled in Janus' gut. He covered it by threading his fingers through Remus' hair, tugging him down. “Try that again. See if you can take me deeper with that slutty mouth of yours.”
Remus’ hips jerked when he sucked him as deeply as he could. For a while, there were only soft wet sounds and Janus’ stream of insults and praise as Remus worked him to hardness. Brought Janus so close, he had to push him away.
He opened a desk drawer and tossed Remus a bottle of lube. “Prep yourself if you want to ride them both.”
Remus looked up at him with wild-eyed adoration. Janus told the biggest lie to himself of the night in hopes of staving off the damnable rattling in his chest, the unrelenting cough, the tamped down frustration over the utter bullshit.
This is enough.
Janus didn’t take his clothes off. Merely shifted to keep himself comfortable and not compress his chest too much. Remus didn't question it. He liked getting dicked down buck naked while Janus was still dressed.
Janus squeezed both his cocks together as Remus sank down. The muscles of his back flexing. Once he was fully seated, his ass pressed up against Janus' lap, he set a vigorous pace groaning and swearing.
Fondness overtook Janus. He coughed. Just in time, he brought a hand to his mouth before he almost doubled over with a racking string of coughs. They were wet enough that even Remus paused. Janus palmed the coughed-up petal clump and dropped it under his chair before Remus could turn entirely. Using a thread of power, he cleaned his glove and mouth of blood. For some reason, his abilities didn’t extend to vanishing the petals themselves. Of course not. That would be too easy.
Remus glanced over his shoulder. “You should get Poin-dickster to look at that cough. It’s been weeks. Or maybe I could look at it. Bring a flashlight to your mouth and make you open wide and say, ‘ahh’. Do you think you have black lung? Do you think it’s plague? Are you going to coughing up blood?”
Janus slapped Remus on the ass, making him yelp and tighten around him. “Are you supposed to be asking about my health or bouncing on my cocks?”
Remus, mercifully distractible Remus, moaned and reached for his cock when Janus spanked him again.
If Virgil cared about Janus’ health these days, he would fret and fret about the cough. He would be undistractable until Janus got it looked at. Would persist in an entirely irritating and endearing way.
Remus' shoulders bunched as he jacked himself off even faster at the next smack. Janus let him take his pleasure, spanking his backside until his palm burned through the glove.
Afterwards, Remus planted a sloppy kiss on Janus' cheek and flopped onto the bed. Come dripping down his chest and from inside.
Janus slumped in his chair, panting carefully for several moments before he found the wherewithal to stumble to the bathroom and get Remus cleaned up. He came back with a damp washcloth and chuckled as Remus griped about why he needed to be cleaned, running his hand through the mess like it was finger-paint.
“My bed, my rules, my messy Duke.” He tapped Remus on the nose and pulled back fast enough to avoid the snap of his teeth.
“You’re bed is boring.”
“You didn’t say that the other day.”
That sent Remus rambling about all the kinky things they could try in bed next time.
Janus hummed at the right points while his mind worked over the problem of getting himself tidied. He considered cleaning with a finger-snap. But there were only so many things he could put his focus into. And his grip on keeping the cough under control was faltering despite his room masking the symptoms. Remus looked as though he was settling in, so Janus opted for a shower to save energy and dignity.
Halfway through the shower, he braced against the wall as the coughing started. He’d long since soundproofed the room for just such an occasion and didn't hold back, hoping to clear his airways before bed.
Long green petals and little lavender buds spattered bloody between his feet as he hacked and spat.
It had been weeks since the whole thing started—weeks since he’d had to juggle double the lies on top of his regular duties.
He’d thought the green petals were leaves at first. It was not until Thomas went down a research rabbit hole of exotic flower colours that Janus learned that zinnia could even come in lime green.
The lavender buds, he couldn’t make heads or tails of at first. Not until the first time he coughed up a broken sprig that scoured his throat all the way up that he recognized the plant by sight and smell.
He kicked at the mess until the shower water caught it up and flowed down the drain. He didn't feel better. His head and abdomen were sore. He massaged the bridge of his nose and suddenly remembered the mass of petals still hidden under the desk chair. He almost slipped in his haste to stumble to the bedroom. Bundled in a robe, he mentally prepared his bullshit reason for leaving the shower half-naked.
Remus lay starfished in the bed and snoring. Janus sighed with relief as he gathered the coughed-up petals and had to steady himself from the light-headedness of bending over. After Janus flushed them down the toilet, changed into pyjamas, and poked and prodded Remus to get under the covers he could finally relish the press of Remus' body as he curl up against him.
The closeness brought bittersweet nostalgia. Childhood memories of Virgil squished between Janus and Remus during the nights when things yowled in the subconscious just beyond the Dark Side. Memories of whispering comforting lies to lull him to sleep. Remus was asleep now, but back when the subconscious was closer and wilder, Remus would whisper to Janus too. Whispered his ideas about what the things were and how they looked what they would do to someone if they got close. Janus never corrected him. Never stopped him beyond asking that he not upset Virgil.
Despite the memories, Janus preferred to sleep with Remus’ comforting warmth than sleep alone.
When Janus woke up the following morning, Remus’ absence stung no more than usual.
*************
Sleeping with Remus, in all senses of the word, while a delightful distraction, had drawbacks. The heaviness in Janus’ chest grew worse, for one thing. His left lung felt crowded as if the flowers bloomed in Remus’ presence like he was the goddamned sun. Janus stared at the ceiling focusing on getting air in and nothing more for some time.
He wasn’t a flesh and blood human. But sides could die, a truth Janus knew intimately. He would come back. However, being gone for any length of time had consequences. Best he kept himself together for now lest Thomas suffers.
Janus levered himself out of bed sluggishly a short while later. Since his affliction had begun, he limited his interactions with the Light Sides and Thomas, focusing on his other duties. After making his bed, he had to sit back down, winded and breathless. It might be time to pay the others a visit.
His usual strategy for handling an injury or illness was Step One: tuck himself into the darkest cranny he could manage and lash out anything that tried to reach in. It worked one hundred percent of the time and never had horrible outcomes.
Once he was through the worst of it, he proceeded to Step Two for a speedy recovery: lie. The more parts of Thomas that believed Janus was hale and healthy, the better he felt until eventually whatever was wrong took care of itself. Janus was, much to Thomas' displeasure, a part of him too.
Self-delusion was easy, but lying to an audience was more effective. And if Janus were honest, more enjoyable. Unfortunately, through embarrassing first-hand experience, Janus knew that he could only actively use his powers of deception for so many things at once before something faltered. He had to be strategic and ration.
He wandered to the bathroom and flicked on the light, sighing at his reflection. Without Remus around to warrant putting on a show, Janus' room made no effort in masking his appearance. Dark circles under his human eye contrasted starkly with his pallor. Cheekbones more defined that was healthy. His scales dull. Small things he could cover up with a glamour and misdirection. Little things the others didn’t look for. But that Remus would notice if the lighting was good enough.
Janus took a breath and thought, There's nothing to worry about. Nothing that would even concern you.
Nice and vague and partially true (the best lies were). Janus' scales brightened, and the darkness under his human eye faded. It was a start. But slow going. Janus couldn’t just patch himself up with any old lie.
For example, it wouldn’t do to use the lie; I certainly don’t have hanahaki disease because Roman is a short-sighted idiot who waxes poetic about medical conditions so far from being romantic as to be on another planet without considering the ramifications for others. As if he doesn’t know what he’s capable of. As if he never considered his power of creation as Creativity. Remus knows, for fucks sake.
No, that wouldn’t do at all. Janus had tried already.
Lying just to look presentable meant he had to carefully budget his attention and energy. While he would never be remiss in executing his duties, he had to ignore little things. The lies the sides told one another, despite their drain on his reserves. Ignore his internal pings when smaller truths snuck past his wards and out into the conscious mindscape.
There were bigger things in the subconscious that he could not let escape. The half-faded sides that strained feebly for Thomas' attention no matter how good or bad they were for him. Or the debilitating truths that would barrel their way out of the subconscious and into the conscious mind, trampling everything in their path and crippling Thomas. Janus had to pick his battles.
Picking his battles meant not rising to Roman’s barbs. Dismissing Patton’s false cheer and forced smiles. Setting aside how, in the past few weeks, Logan became more insistent about all the little things that, while true, Thomas really didn’t want to think about. Though Janus couldn’t ignore Virgil’s antsiness in response. He never could overlook Virgil’s worrying, even if he couldn’t fix it. Even when he made it worse.
No matter. Janus had business in the subconscious and couldn't do his job while puffing and wheezing. Time for lying to an audience.
He shouldered his caplet and settled into a plausible lie. Something he could sometimes believe, My feelings for Remus don’t change our relationship. The sex is fantastic, we enjoy one another’s company. Why change a thing?
He pulled on his gloves. It doesn’t sting when Virgil hisses at me.
Donned his hat. I feel fine.
It was a tightrope of doublethink that relied desperately on being what others expected. And so, with a smirk and a wink at his more healthy-looking reflection, Janus fashioned himself an armour of deception. He weaponized his worries into snark and left his room to do his rounds of antagonizing the others and show his face. They would help him whether they wanted to or not.
Everything will be fine. This won’t affect Thomas.