Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Patton, have you seen my—"

Janus stops in his tracks. Patton's started baking again. Apparently.

He's covered in flour and what looks like sugar from head to toe, and his once light blue apron is now completely white. His hair, however, has somehow managed to stay flour-free, and it glows almost blond in the afternoon sunshine that streams through the window. Janus feels his heart give an uncomfortable thump.

Patton looks up at him and smiles. "Hey, Jan. What's up?”

Janus schools his expression into something like disdain and hopes it's enough to hide the (quite frankly, pathetic) affection he's feeling at the moment. Nearly two years of being in love with Patton and it still manages to take him by surprise. "I was going to ask if you'd seen my spanish textbook, but I'd be shocked if you could see anything at all right now considering your glasses are covered in... is that brown sugar?" How on earth did one manage to get brown sugar on their glasses?

"Oh, dear, I didn't even notice," Patton says, and Janus tries hard to suppress a sigh. There's a lot Patton doesn't notice these days; he's always lost in thought, and Janus is starting to fear he knows the reason why. "I can see perfectly fine, though. Weird." Patton giggles, and Janus smiles softly. He really is utterly fucked.

"So, what's going on? You don't bake like this unless you're worried about something."

Patton's smile falters a bit. "I... I don't want to burden you with all that."

"You're not a burden," Janus replies, giving Patton his fiercest don’t-fuck-with-me face. "You're my friend, Patton, and I want you to tell me how you're feeling."

Patton smiles again, and Janus knows he's thinking back to when they first met. "I don't need someone to spill my life story to," Janus had drawled. "I just need someone to pay the other half of the rent." It's amazing how much they mean to each other, now.

Yet Janus still aches for more. 

"Have I ever told you that you're my best friend?" Patton says, beginning to knead the dough that seems to have materialized out of thin air. Janus' heart gives a weak twinge of pain.

"Of course you have. I'm amazed you find the willpower to stop talking about it, seeing as I’m so brilliant. Now, really, what's the matter."

"Well..." Patton replies, sighing. "There's this... guy."

Janus’ stomach has drops to his knees. "Oh?" he says, hoping it hasn't come out as strangled as he feels.

"Yeah," Patton says quietly. "I just met him recently, but... I think I really like him, J. He's so clever and always knows what to say to make me feel better. He acts like he doesn't care, but I think secretly it's because he's got a big heart and doesn't want to get hurt. I can understand that. I’ve been there myself, actually.” Patton tips his chin down towards his chest, but Janus doesn't miss his small grin. "The way he looks at me, Jan... I think he might feel the same but is too scared to say."

"Oh," Janus repeats. He knows he sounds like an idiot, but there's something numb and cold spreading through his chest and he can't really breathe. "Oh."

"I just... haven't really felt this way about anyone before, you know? I don't understand how I'm supposed to act, or what I'm supposed to do, and whenever I'm around him my mouth gets all dry and my—my neck start sweating. Did you know that necks could sweat? Because I sure didn't." Patton laughs, but it sounds a little strained. 

Janus just nods. He knew that necks could sweat.

"Is—Does this guy happen to be the one Virgil and Roman introduced us to a few months ago? The... the Logan fellow?"

Patton stiffens a bit, but then slumps forward and gives Janus a smile that seems a little too self-deprecating. "Am I really that obvious?"

"Just—Just to me, I think," Janus replies, swallowing hard. "I didn't know you'd kept in touch."

"Oh, I thought I'd told you," Patton says, brow wrinkling as he starts searching for a rolling pin. "I was so caught up in the moment when he asked for my number. Guess it just slipped my mind."

Janus knows Patton is telling the truth, but, God, it still hurts. The fact that Patton was so infatuated from the very beginning that he forgot to tell Janus in his excitement—that hurts like hell. This whole conversation hurts like hell.

"Anyway, I'm making him a pie. Because. People like pie. And he... is a person. That I like. So. Pie. Yes," Patton finishes weakly, a light blush blooming across his cheeks.

"Right," Janus says, and it comes out a little harsher than he intends. "Well. I hope that goes... good for you. And him. Good for both of you. Um, I just remembered, I think I left my spanish book with Roman, so. I'll just. Run and get it.”

"Oh, okay," Patton replies. His tone has shifted from anxious-and-embarrassed to Concerned Father Figure. Janus doesn't like it. Not a bit. "I'll see you later, though, yeah? I need a taste-tester."

"Sure. Maybe. Virgil usually needs math help when I visit though. So. Maybe."

"Okay," and great, now he sounds hurt.

Well done, Janus, he thinks furiously to himself. Very convincing. It's not like he's been able to tell when you're lying since a week after you met or anything.

He grabs his bag and opens the door, pretending he can’t feel Patton’s confused eyes on his back as he closes it shut behind him. 

*~*~*

When Remus mentioned in passing that his brother was in need of a place to stay that a) would allow him to work on his screenplays in peace and b) not bleed him completely dry, Janus knew immediately what to do. 

It just so happened that the apartment below his and Patton’s had been recently vacated and was perfect for Roman’s price range... if he had a roommate to split the cost, like Janus did. Janus, being the God that he is, had a solution for that as well. His good friend, Virgil, was also in need of a place to stay that would a) allow him to work on his poetry in peace and b) wouldn’t bleed him completely dry. “Working nights at a gas station does not a rich poet make,” were his exact words. Janus thought they would get along swimmingly, what with the writing thing, and then he’d have two good friends living just a floor away. It was a win/win/win.

Until it wasn’t.

Roman and Virgil, although civil at first, quickly realized that they drove each other up the wall. It got so bad that they would end up shouting late into the night about the most trivial of things, like who tracked mud all over the kitchen and who was leaving coffee rings on the table. Once they’d even fought about the pattern on the curtains. The goddamn curtain patterns, for God’s sake!

The worst part, though, was that they both blamed Janus completely. He’d tried to talk to them about it, as he was obviously disturbed by the fact that he could no longer sleep due to their incessant screaming and ended up being repeatedly accused of tricking them into living with each other whilst being called a number of colorful names. 

(He then proceeded to make the mistake of trying to reason with them both at the same time; this resulted in Virgil calling him a 'deceitful snake', which became the first thing he and Roman ever agreed on. Now Janus is cursed with the most horrible nickname ever conceived: Dee, short for Deceit. Honest to God, why could nobody call him by his fucking name?

“Roman hates him. And you,” Remus told him gleefully during one of their visits. His manic smile was wider than Janus had ever seen it. “He hasn’t been this angry since I ran over the cat.”)

Eventually, on one particularly late night during a particularly vicious fight which Janus was trying particularly hard to ignore as he had a particularly bad migraine, Roman shouted, “Just shut up, you emo wanna-be!” To which Virgil responded, “Why don’t you fucking make me, you self-absorbed prep?” 

There was an awful lot of silence after that, and then there was clamor of a different sort and... well. Let’s just say that Janus was at least able to sleep again. 

He can’t say he understands their peculiar little romance (seriously, how does one go from wanting to hit someone to wanting to kiss them?), but he doesn’t dare ask any questions. He’s got a bad feeling it’s something outrageously storybook, and he has no need for all that sappiness in his life. Not that it really matters what he thinks anyway—take one look at them together and you can tell that they’re ridiculously in love. 

The door’s unlocked when he gets to their apartment. After knocking and receiving Roman’s cheerful “Come in!” he enters to find both Roman and Virgil curled up on the couch. Virgil is perched on Roman’s lap and has his arms wrapped around his neck, head resting on one of Roman’s broad shoulders; Roman is leaning back against the armrest and is holding Virgil against him with his chin resting atop Virgil’s fluffy purple hair. Mary Poppins is playing quietly on the television. They're so absorbed that they don’t even look at Janus when he walks further inside and shuts the door behind him.

For a second, he just stands there, trying not to notice the way Roman keeps giving Virgil these sweet little adoring glances and how Virgil’s face is rid of almost all anxiety, practically glowing with surety and contentment. He stands and stares for what feels like forever when he’s suddenly hit with an intense wave of longing. He has to look away, then, to blink tears out of his eyes. Tears. He’s going to cry actual, literal tears because he knows that they’ve got everything he wants but will never have. Not with Patton, anyway. The certainty of it hits him like a brick, that Patton will never feel this way about him, even if Logan were out of the picture.

When Virgil finally gets the inclination to fucking look at him, Janus is a crumbling mess. Virgil’s face is suddenly filled with apprehension, and Janus knows he must look positively horrid if Virgil’s shocked enough to reveal so much emotion. He nudges Roman—now there are two pairs of worried eyes staring straight at him, and he can’t help it. He starts to sniffle a bit.

“Jesus, Dee,” Virgil says, climbing off Roman’s lap and enveloping Janus in a bone-crushing hug. He is so shocked he almost stops crying sniffling. Virgil’s never hugged him before, and he’s never been hugged much at all, really, and Virgil’s actually a really nice hugger and oh, no, the sniffling’s back. 

Roman places a gentle hand on his shoulder, then asks, “Do you want to sit down?” and before Janus can blink, he’s being led over to the couch with his head buried in Virgil’s shoulder, Roman bustling off to the kitchen.

Virgil’s hoodie is really quite soft. It smells of lavender. Janus wrinkles his nose. When Roman comes back and hands him a glass of water, also smelling of lavender, things make a little more sense. Must be their detergent, he thinks, and then he stops thinking about how they share detergent because otherwise he’s going to think about how much he wants someone to share detergent with him and goddammit he wants that someone to be Patton, but it’s not going to be Patton, because Patton doesn’t like him like that. He likes Logan. Perfect Logan with his cleverness and his soft hidden heart and the fact that he always knows what to say. Perfect Logan who Patton has, supposedly, been texting for months.

He pulls out of Virgil’s embrace and takes a sip of water, glaring bitterly into the cup as he does. Roman sits on his other side, sending a blast of lavender-scented air his way, and his eyes prick with tears once again. He doesn’t even like lavender.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Roman asks softly. Janus didn’t know Roman’s voice could be so quiet.

There’s a beam of sunlight shining through a window in their kitchen, directly opposite the one in Patton and Janus’ apartment. It reminds him of how beautiful Patton’s hair was today, and how much he’d wanted to kiss him, because Patton’s heart is pure and loving and kind, and he’s started baking again and he only bakes when he’s anxious about something, and Janus wants to be the one to rid him of those anxieties. He can’t, though, because Patton is anxious over Logan, and is baking a pie for Logan, and gets sweaty around Logan. Because Logan is who he likes, not Janus. It will never be Janus. Janus just isn’t... likable.

“Janus? Hey, really. Tell us what’s wrong. We won’t be able to do anything if we can’t figure out what’s bothering you,” Roman says.

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Don’t push him, Roman. Whether or not he tells us anything is his decision. We just have to be here for him.”

“I’m not pushing! Or I’m not trying to, at least.” He looks at Janus helplessly. “I’m not pushing, am I?” 

Janus chuckles. “No, Roman, you’re not pushing. I’ve just... got something on my mind, and I’m not sure whether or not I wish to discuss it. I think I just need—people, right now.”

“Okay,” Virgil says, putting an arm around him. Roman does the same, and as Janus leans back against their joined hands, he knows his previous statement wasn’t completely true. Roman and Virgil like him, maybe even love him, and have accepted his pain without a thought. They’re not mad that he’s intruded on their time together—they’re just happy to be able to help. But he doesn’t think he’s likable in the other way; not in the way he wants Patton to like him.

“A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down!” Mary trills. Roman hums along with her, and when Virgil leans his head on Janus’ shoulder, he knows everything will be okay anyway. 

Who needs romance when you’ve got friends?

Chapter Text

Patton's not in the kitchen when he gets home. There's a note on the fridge in Patton's bubbly scrawl. 

"I'm making an apple pie and I forgot to buy apples. Who does that? I can be such a scatterbrain. Might be back late—I decided to pick up the rest of the groceries for the week. See you soon! Love, Patton." 

Janus sighs and checks the back, finding writing there as well. It reads: "P.S. you seemed a little upset when you left. Remember you can tell me anything. I won't judge."

Janus sits at the table and puts his head in his hands. He stays like that for a long time.

*~*~*

The next morning proves to be no better than the last, and Janus wakes feeling utterly drained. He's only got an hour before his morning classes. Biggest mistake of his life, thinking he'd be ready to process information at nine in the fucking morning. It looks like a nice day, at least. The closer to December it gets, the more hope Janus has that it will snow, even though it never does.

Although he usually tries his hardest to dress nicely, today his head pounds a painful rhythm against his skull and his hands fumble over the buttons on his shirt. He grits his teeth and attempts to get on with it without moving his head, turning to stare out the window into the parking lot below. It's a lost cause, however, as the zipper on his favorite jacket has apparently picked today to be difficult, and it goes without saying that Janus is in quite a mood when all is said and done. 

A wonderful smell is emanating from the kitchen and he knows avoiding Patton is not an option. It wouldn't be fair to do so anyway, he reminds himself, because it's not his fault Janus and his stupid feelings are getting in the way of their friendship.

It’s not like he doesn’t know how to deal with them by now. Still, he steels himself as he opens his bedroom door; seeing Patton after hurting his feelings always makes Janus feel—

Patton is in their kitchen. With Logan. 

Logan is in their kitchen. With Patton.

And they're standing way too close to each other.

Just as he thinks this, they jump apart, as if he'd caught them doing something they shouldn't. Janus closes his eyes. 

"I hope I'm not... interrupting... anything?" he asks, clenching his teeth before opening his eyes once more. 

"Oh, Janus, you're up early! I didn't expect you for nearly an hour." Patton's cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, but his eyes are bright and a smile dominates most of his face. Janus wants to walk back into his room and scream into a pillow.

"It's Friday," he says instead. "You know I've got classes in the morning."

Patton's smile dims. Janus instantly feels like a dick.

"It's fine, I'm sure," Logan says, and the moment he speaks Janus is filled with the overwhelming urge to push him down a flight of stairs ask him—politely—to get the fuck out of his apartment. "We can reschedule."

Patton's smile drops off his face completely. Janus sees the momentary panic that it stirs in Logan, and he hates him for it. He hates him so, so much, because he knows that expression, has worn it on his face a thousand times. He hates him, because Patton was right—Logan does like him back. Logan is going to get everything Janus has ever wanted, and Janus is going to let him take it, because Logan is the one who makes Patton happy.

Janus wants to be petty. He wants to make a snarky jab at the detached, haughty tone Logan uses when he talks, or the fact that he's wearing a tie at eight-thirty in the morning. But he doesn't. Suddenly, he can't stand to be anywhere near this room, nevermind inside it.

"I think I'll just go," he says. "I wanted to visit Brixton's Alley before my class started, anyway." 

"Oh," Patton says. Logan looks at Patton, then at him, then back at Patton. 

"I understand you two are... friends?" Logan asks.

"Yes, we've met before. I'm Janus," he replies, grabbing his bag from off the table while suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. Logan has a very pleasant voice, and it's really starting to get irritating that he's better than Janus in every way. 

Logan frowns. "Er, yes. I'm sorry, when was this?"

"Same time you met Patton. Roman and Virgil's 'fancy' dinner party," he says. Avoiding the eyes of either of them, Janus grabs his keys from the little bowl on the counter. "Although I imagine you were a bit... distracted."

He opens the door and turns to look at them. Logan seems embarrassed and a little guilty, but Patton has a suspiciously calculating expression on his face that Janus doesn't like in the least. 

"Patton, Logan," he says. It comes out quieter than he expects. Feeling strangely vulnerable, he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders, tipping his head at them. "I'll see you."

"Yeah," Patton replies, voice hesitant, before Janus closes the door in his face for the second time in as many days. 

*~*~*

Brixton's Alley is, in Janus' ever-humble opinion, the best cafe in the state, maybe even the world. He's not usually a huge fan of coffee, but he knows that after a morning like this one, a strong dose of caffeine is, quite possibly, the only thing that'll be able to get him through the day. 

It's eight forty-five by the time he reaches his destination, meaning he will most likely be late for class, but he really couldn't care less. The cafe is warm and comfortable and calm—everything a lecture hall is not—and it's exactly what he needs. Plus, the scent of coffee beans is almost enough to banish the last traces of his headache, and for that he is endlessly grateful. He awards Brixton's a few more mental points. 

As he settles into his booth and takes out his psychology textbook, the door behind him opens with a whoooooosh-BANG!

Janus is so startled he almost spills his latte and, feeling particularly vindictive, whips around to give whoever has caused the calamity a piece of his mind. He doesn't get the chance, however, because they've gone as soon as they came, practically flying across the tile and through another door towards the back. 

So much for calm and quiet, he thinks, stunned. Shaking his head a bit, he tries to focus once more on his reading. It's nearly nine o'clock when—

Whoooooosh-BANG!

"What in the world?" Janus yelps, jumping again. He turns, spotting a slight grimace on the face of the cashier who served him just before an unholy screech fills the air. 

"EMIIIIIIIIIIIIIILE!"

Janus winces and wonders for the tenth (eleventh?) time why he simply cannot catch a fucking break. 

"Emile, you little bitch, where have you hidden my coffee?"

The cashier sighs, and with a rather resigned expression, replies: "I told you last week, Remy. We stopped carrying that blend. The last shipment came in a month ago, and now we're out."

There's a beat of tense silence and then the unholy screeching is back, this time more of a wail, before a stream of expletives fall rapidly from the person's mouth. The little old lady in the corner lets loose a scandalized gasp. They stick their tongue out at her before flopping down on top of the counter, as if they haven't the energy to go on. Janus is unable to stifle a laugh in time, and the boy glances at him for a moment before turning his head back towards the cashier. 

"You absolute fucker," he concludes. Emile the Cashier just pats his head solemnly, avoiding what looks to be a pair of very pointy Ray-Bans as he does. Janus sips his coffee, interested despite himself. 

"It's for the best, really. That caffeine addiction can't be good for you."

"It's the only thing that is good for me," the boy (Remy?) whines, then tilts his head consideringly. "That and a good, hard fuck."

Janus spits out his coffee. 

"Remy! We have customers," Emile says reproachfully.

Remy doesn't seem to care. As Emile tries to console the little old lady (who is sputtering and going purple with indignation), Remy catches Janus staring and squints a bit. Janus doesn't look away. He's used to people staring at him. Instead, he sips his coffee and takes a moment to run his eyes down the boy's face, cataloguing the pouty lips and high, refined cheekbones. He meets Remy's eyes after a minute and flicks an eyebrow at him before returning to his book. 

Rather nice-looking, he thinks. Too bad about the personality. 

"Fuck the customers," Remy says, but it's more of a mumble. It's the quietest he's been since he got here, and Janus smirks a little, triumphant.  

Eventually, he shuts his book and shoves it back in his bag, finishing off his coffee as he does. It's nine-thirty, he's missed most of class, and he hasn't felt this refreshed since the time Patton had gotten so excited that he'd picked Janus up and spun him around the room. He takes one more glance at the new barista and, finding him staring back unabashedly, tries not to saunter on his way out. 

*~*~*

The confidence Janus gains at being so openly checked out doesn't stay with him long. His thoughts quickly circle back to Patton, and because thinking about Patton means thinking about Logan (and Patton with Logan, and Patton and Logan together), he quickly shoves that train of thought into the back of his head to die. He's got his work and he's got his friends; there's no need for anything else. Relationships get complicated, he reminds himself.

Logan has surely left by the time Janus' first class is over, but he still has no desire to return home, where everything is tainted with memories of how things used to be. There was a time when Janus thought Patton might feel the same way about him—in the beginning, when they'd first started living together. Their interactions had always had this underlying tension, the feeling of 'something big is going to happen between us, and it's going to happen soon.' Janus thought that Patton could feel it, too, but turns out it was entirely one-sided. 

Janus had confessed late one evening, nearly a year ago now, after a party where he'd gotten entirely too drunk. Patton, being the innocent, pure, I'm-waiting-for-21 person he was (and still is, besides the waiting-for-21 part), had been completely sober when it happened. Janus can still feel the burn of utter humiliation as Patton had sat on the bed the next morning, rubbing his neck and saying "Sorry, I just don't... feel that way about you."

Taking a turn into Big Oak Park, Janus runs his hands over his face and through his hair. A walk will do him some good, surely. It should get his mind off all the unpleasant things that have happened, at the very least.

He walks the path for a while and ends up at a quaint little pond. There are some geese, ducks and swans who haven't left south for winter yet floating around leisurely, being fed bread by small clusters of people. The whole scene gives him a quiet sense of peace; no matter what's going on in his life, at least there will always be ponds for swans to swim in, and kind-hearted people around to feed them.

Janus picks a nice little bench under a tree and tries to ignore the fact that it's sixty-two degrees. Tucking his knees under his chin and closing his eyes, he listens to the sounds of children laughing and water sloshing around the pond. Feeling himself relax, the worries of the day slip off to a part of his mind that is no longer active, and he lets them go. Maybe when he gets back, he’ll talk to Patton about—

"I think you should move out."

Chapter Text

Janus screams. Very loudly.

"WHAT THE F—Remus?!"

Remus gives Janus his trademark demented grin and plops onto the bench beside him. Still catching his breath, Janus tries to relax his posture once more, un-bunching his arms and legs from where he'd pressed them against his chest in fright.

"Jesus Christ, Remus. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Remus hums a bit and tips his head in contemplation. "While that does sound like fun, that's not what I'm here to talk about."

"I'm sure," Janus says, rolling his eyes. "What did you mean, anyway? About me moving out?"

Remus shrugs. "I meant exactly what I said. You should move out."

"I don't—what? Why?"

"Because staying will only make you unhappy," Remus replies, shrugging again. "I know you've still got the hots for Patton. Which I really don't understand." He wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Dating. Eurgh." 

Janus sighs. "You're right. Not being in love would certainly be easier." 

"You know your condescending, I'll-just-agree-with-you-until-you-leave-me-alone voice doesn't work on me, Janny."

"Yes, you're far too... you, I suppose," Janus replies, scrubbing his face with his hands despondently. "I'm not moving out of my apartment, Remus. That'd be ridiculous."

Remus' grin widens. "I know. That's what makes it fun."

"I thought this was about me being sad?"

"Well yeah, there's that, but it'd also cause a lot of chaos, and you know how I feel about that," Remus says, bouncing in his seat a little.

Janus laughs. At least Remus will never change.

"Anyway, thought I'd give you this. I bought it, then changed my mind, then changed it again, then again. You know how I am." He hands Janus a sealed envelope, piquing his curiosity immediately.

"What are they?" He asks, but he's greeted with silence. When Janus turns to look at him, Remus is gone.

*~*~*

"A free ticket to a spelunking trip and handful of loose caramel corn," Janus says. He's found himself back in Roman and Virgil's apartment and is valiantly resisting the urge to flop onto their sofa and wail dramatically, like in those old black-and-white movies. He settles with dropping his head onto their table with a loud thunk. "I don't even know what spelunking is."

"It's like, cave diving, isn't it?" Roman asks, not looking at him as he putters around in the kitchen. "I would say that sounds fun, but I'd be lying."

Janus scowls as Roman throws some noodles into a pot. He's making spaghetti, which is half the reason Janus decided to come here first—one does not simply miss pasta night. The other reason is because Patton is out with Logan and Janus really doesn't want to sit alone in his apartment trying not to think about it. It's pathetic, he knows, but he can't really bring himself to care.

I do my best moping in company, anyway, he reflects, then has to try not to slap himself.

Virgil sits on the table next to him and pats his head pityingly. "Where did he even get them?" He asks. "There aren't any caves around here. If there were, I would definitely know about them. Dark, spooky, perfect for brooding, and full of bats--totally up my alley." 

"Great," Janus replies, deadpan. "A free ticket to a spelunking trip somewhere out of town. Joy." 

"That's my brother for you," Roman says shortly. "He was born without context. You know he's weird on purpose, right? He just likes the attention. So annoying, I swear."

Janus and Virgil share an amused glance. Roman and Remus' feud has been going on since they were ten, and Janus is almost one hundred percent sure neither of them know what it's even about. Remus seems to think it's fun, however, so everyone just leaves it alone. Patton likes to ask when he thinks Roman will get some sense knocked into him and realize that Remus doesn't actually hate him; he only does stupid shit because he likes fucking with people in general. Janus is betting on never.

The thought of Patton makes Janus feel bruised inside, all amusement slipping away. "He thinks I should move out."

Roman whirls around, serving spoon in hand. "What? Why? Is he trying to rope you into one of those 'let's spontaneously change your life entirely!' schemes of his?"

Janus snorts. "No, it's about... Patton."

"Ah... gotcha." Roman flushes sheepishly and turns back around, stirring the sauce with more vigor than is probably necessary.

"I think he's right," Virgil says, out of fucking nowhere. 

"What?" Janus finally takes his head off the table to stare at him, incredulous. "But that's ridiculous! Patton and I have lived together since first semester of sophomore year. What reason could I give for wanting to leave now?"

"The truth?" He mumbles weakly. Janus glares at him. Virgil sighs, shoulders slumping and fingers twisting together in a way that almost makes Janus wince. "I know, I wouldn't like it either. It just makes me anxious. You're practically asking for an embarrassing situation at this point."

"He's right," Roman chimes in traitorously. "Tell Patton how you feel about him—sober, this time—and then tell him that you feel it'd be best if you had some space."

Janus stares at them both in horror. "I thought I was trying to avoid an embarrassing situation," he replies. God, just thinking about doing something like that makes him itch with mortification. 

"Being honest about your feelings is healthy, and no one appreciates that more than Patton," Roman replies sternly. Well, as stern as one can be when wearing a bright yellow apron that bears the moniker "Bakers Gonna Bake!" in large purple lettering. Janus turns to Virgil and gives him his best "please give me some other option besides having to confess my feelings again so I get rejected again, leaving me to then deal with the fallout by moving out of my apartment completely" expression. He's not sure he does it right, however, because Virgil just looks at him like he's crazy. Janus drops his head to the table again. 

"Not to change the subject or anything, but is that almost done? I'm starving," Virgil asks. Janus is grateful; he's practically drooling from the delicious aroma that's begun wafting its way into the dining room.

"Yes. Be patient," Roman replies. He swipes a bit of sauce from the spoon and blows on it before popping it into his mouth. Humming in contentment, he gives the sauce one last stir and then moves to drain the noodles. Suddenly, his face lights up and he sends Janus a blinding grin. "I know! It's like this pasta!"

"Um, what is?" 

"Your love life! See, you and Patton are like butter and noodles," he says excitedly, addressing Janus now from over his shoulder. "They're good together, but there's not much flavor, you know? What you need, my friend, is to find a good sauce." He turns and places his hands on his hips, expression triumphant.

Janus and Virgil take one look at each other and burst into laughter.

"I'm serious!" Roman pouts. "Janus, you need to find someone who specifically complements you, not just an add-on that goes well with anything." He frowns and turns back around, beginning to rummage through the cabinets for plates. "Not that Patton isn't... flavorful. Just, you know... for you he's butter. For Logan, he's sauce. You need to find the sauce for you."

"So, what you're saying is that I need to get someone else's... sauce?" Janus asks. 

"Yes. I mean, no!" Roman says, blushing as he spoons the spaghetti onto their plates. "You know what I meant!"

"Does this mean I'm the spaghetti to your bolognese?" Virgil asks, grinning slyly. Roman's blush deepens and he stares intently at their pasta. Janus groans.

"Stop it, both of you. It's rude to flirt in front of someone with a broken heart."

Virgil shrugs, smirking. "It's not my fault. How am I supposed to know what charms Prince Charming?"

"Because you're his evil boyfriend who deliberately does these things to torture me?"

"Bold of you to assume I'd do anything for you," Virgil replies loftily. Janus rolls his eyes and looks back to the kitchen just as Roman emerges, balancing three plates precariously on his arms. His bare arms, good fucking lord.

"Roman, Jesus, you could've asked for help," Virgil scolds, grabbing two of the plates and placing them on the table hurriedly. "You didn't have to burn yourself."

"I'm fine," Roman replies, wincing. "It's not that far a trip."

Virgil sighs and takes his arms, kissing them each in turn. "You don't have to hurt yourself to be helpful," he murmurs, bashful. 

Roman smiles dopily while Janus sighs into his spaghetti. It's going to be a long night.

*~*~*

When he gets back to his apartment, Patton is sitting on the couch, waiting for him. At Janus' raised eyebrow, the other man gives him a hesitant smile and pats the cushion next to him. "What's this about?" Janus asks as he sinks into the cushions. 

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Patton replies. He shifts on the couch so he's facing Janus head on, and suddenly Janus is struck with a feeling of intense trepidation. He'd been a little distant, yeah, but was it really so bad as to warrant a whole roommate meeting? Had he really been that obvious? And, shit, he hadn't even had time to get his thoughts together since dinner--what if he'd made Patton horribly uncomfortable without even knowing, and now he was planning on kicking him out before Janus could get a word in edgewise?

No, he wouldn't do that, he scolds himself. What's more than likely is Patton's noticed Janus has been all bitchy about something and wants to know what. Still, he prays to God that Patton hasn't figured it out so quickly. 

"I don't know what you mean," Janus deflects. 

Patton gives him a look. "I think you do," he says. Shit. Yeah, Patton's definitely onto him. Janus briefly laments the fact that he actually used to be good at deflecting before he met Patton. "You've been acting strangely for a couple of days, ever since I told you that I was interested in Logan. Do you... not like him?" 

"I..." God, how to answer that question? On paper, Logan was a perfectly nice guy. From their (admittedly brief) conversation at Roman and Virgil's party, he'd been very polite, if a little cold. But then Patton had come over, and all of a sudden, he wasn't just pleasant, but clever, and witty, and "gosh, isn't he handsome, Janus?" By the end of the night the two had been practically finishing each other's sentences. Janus had known Patton for over two years now, with their first meeting being as formal as Janus could make it, and Patton had just left it at that. It wasn't until after they'd been living together for nearly four months that they grew close enough to have proper conversations with each other that weren't about rent or how Patton needed to stop leaving his sweaters strewn all over the living room. No one could say that either of them was unfriendly--Patton was probably physically incapable--but their relationship had taken time. It took time for them to get to know each other, to start hanging out, to consider each other friends, and then best friends; it took so much time, in fact, that Janus didn't even realize he was in too deep until it was too late.

Meanwhile, Patton had liked Logan immediately. It took him no time at all. Logan hadn't had to grow on Patton, because their relationship wasn't something that they'd needed to work at. It was the kind of natural chemistry that you saw in the movies, where people saw them together and thought, "They look good together, don't they?" No one would ever wonder why someone like Patton would be with someone like Logan, or vice versa, because they were polite, and smart, and beautiful. 

Janus knew he wasn't unattractive. He'd had his fair share of reciprocated crushes, that was for sure. And yet... he'd had to grow on all of them, too. Because while he wasn't unattractive, he wasn't exactly attractive either. There was something about him that just wasn't entirely... likeable. He was standoffish, antisocial, arrogant, rude--the list of flaws leveled against him by ex-lovers went on and on and on. Eventually, there was something that drove them away, always, every time. The scar that covered half his face didn't help. Some people thought it was cool, or roguish, while others thought it was scary, or just downright ugly. Either way, it made him undeniably different. People didn't think cute, sappy thoughts when they saw him holding hands with someone; they thought, "Jesus, what happened to his face?"  Or "How did someone so surly manage to bag someone so sweet?" With him, there was no chance of making an instant, "their eyes met from across the room..." connection. He wasn't destined for a grand romance. 

Honestly, though, he'd made his peace with all that. Being a hopeless romantic didn't really hinder him in everyday life, as long as he kept himself busy. It definitely wasn't fun being in love with someone who didn't love you back, but he knew from experience that it also wasn't the worst thing in the world. What truly bothered him about all of it, though, the whole situation, was that Patton had found someone who was absolutely perfect for him while also managing to be nearly perfect himself. Now Janus can't help but be jealous. It burns in him almost all the time, making him feel like the pettiest, shittiest friend in the world, and he hates it.  

"It's not that I dislike him," Janus begins, letting his gaze drift around the room, resolutely not meeting Patton's eyes. "There's nothing wrong with him. I'm just... not sure how comfortable I am with having our romantic entanglements in the apartment." 

There's a beat of silence, and then Janus feels Patton's hand on his shoulder, light as a feather. As if Janus is some spooked animal he's afraid of scaring away. "Are you sure this doesn't have anything to do with... well, you know--" 

"No, it's not that," Janus lies smoothly. "You don't need to worry about that. We haven't really discussed what to do in this sort of situation, is all. It's not like either of us has had a date since we moved in." 

Patton visibly brightens at his words. "Well, that's an easy fix, isn't it? We can talk about it right now, if you'd like. Besides, it's not like we're actually dating, or anything. He's just a guy that I like." 

"I guess you're right. I apologize for being rude." He smiles grimly and tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice when he says, "And don't worry about him, Patton. I'm certain he'll ask you out before the week is over." 

Chapter Text

As Janus walks into Brixton’s the next week, his head is absolutely pounding. It’s mid-September, and the humidity only makes the migraines worse. He’d not even planned on grabbing coffee, really, but at this point, he’d do anything to ease the pain.

The atmosphere of the little shop is like a balm to his nerves. Brixton’s is a small place, decorated in rich yellows and soft blues, from the sweet floral wallpaper to the tiled floor. Round tables with red-checkered tablecloths take up most of the space, with chairs that are just this side of too-squishy. There’s a spot near the window, in the corner closest to the entrance, that contains a little sofa. It’s just big enough for two and is ridiculously comfortable. It is Janus’s spot, despite the fact that his mother raised him with a crippling fear of spilling drinks on cloth surfaces, and every time he sits down he fears it may swallow him whole.

However, the most notable thing about Brixton’s isn’t the wallpaper or the tablecloths. It isn’t the lack of space, or the slightly clashy color scheme, or even the alarmingly squashy little sofa. No, the thing you remember about Brixton’s, the thing that makes you turn to your friend and ask “wow, wasn’t that weird?” after you’ve left, the thing that makes Brixton’s special, would be, of course, the chickens. 

Nearly everywhere you look, you’re confronted with some sort of chicken imagery. Hanging on the walls are pictures and paintings of chickens. The one and only cash register has been completely covered in chicken-related stickers, each in a different art style, ranging from outlandishly cartoonish to almost uncomfortably realistic. Little ceramic plates are lined up in a row in a clear glass cabinet near the door, all decorated with scenes of farm life—most of which include chickens. Janus’s favorite addition is behind the counter, though. It’s a carved wooden sign featuring a dapper little chicken in a waistcoat and tails, complete with top hat and monocle. It boasts the legendary moniker: “Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to Brixton’s Coffee, the chirkiest place in town!”

Originally, Janus thinks the owners must’ve been going for a sweet, rustic theme. They’ve managed to land somewhere between comfortably homey to slightly creepy, and Janus loves it. Everything about Brixton’s tells him that this is a place he can relax. It’s a welcome relief, and one he never fails to take advantage of, especially in times like these. “Times like these” being, of course, times in which Janus has to deal with his existential crises and relationship issues. (“I think I just have trouble connecting with people,” he’ll whisper to a nearby chicken, be it photo, painting, or, on one memorable occasion, salt shaker. The chicken always stares beadily back. He thinks it understands.)

Today, the counter is host to neither of the associates of the previous week. Instead, his coffee is prepared and rung up by a rather sulky-looking fellow who would probably get on swimmingly with Virgil. Janus can’t help but be relieved. The last thing he needs is for his peace to be disturbed by that unhinged amateur coffee connoisseur. He’s got a lot on his mind, and the only solutions are good coffee and quiet. In here, the stress and anxiety can’t touch him. He doesn’t have to worry about overdue assignments or how poorly his job search is going. He especially doesn’t have to worry about Patton, or how suddenly his apartment seemed to be home to three people instead of two, or how Logan and Patton are slowly but surely becoming Logan-and-Patton. In here, none of that exists unless he wants it to. This is a safe space and he is determined to keep it that way. 

Sipping his too-hot coffee, Janus pulls out the ‘spelunking ticket’ and examines it carefully. Turns out, it’s not a ‘ticket’ exactly, more an invitation to a spelunking club that gives you access to free gear your first go-round. Despite his better judgement, he finds himself interested. Maybe it would be fun to try something new. And with how things are currently going, he could use some fun. 

“What do you think of this, hmm?” He mutters to a nearby chicken painted in a lovely watercolor, flapping the ticket demonstratively. “Spelunking. Can’t say I’ve ever had the urge to go crawling through a dark, damp, possibly dangerous cave, but who knows? I could end up having the time of my life. Maybe then I could become a professional cave-diver and spend the rest of my days underground, never having to speak to another person again.” 

The chicken stares at him. Janus gets the feeling that, if it could, it would be laughing at him. He sighs. “You’re right. I wouldn’t last a day without my coffee fix. Woe is me.” 

Crash-BANG goes the door beside him, startling him so badly he nearly spills his coffee everywhere. He sets his cup down and looks over at the counter, scowling. Sure enough, it’s Remy: The Barista With Issues. Why he can’t have the presence of mind not to bring his problems to work, Janus doesn’t know. Then again, being melodramatic could just be part of his personality.

”Jamie, babe, good to see you. I’m here to relieve you of duty.” The sulky attendant turns their eyes to the heavens at their coworker’s antics, and retreats to the back of the store. “Fetch me my apron, would you?” Remy calls after them. 

Janus looks around, feeling a bit awkward. He’s the only one in the café today, and therefore, the sole recipient of Remy’s attention. Not that he’s even paying attention. He seems very focused on the register, picking absentmindedly at a peeling sticker. Janus glances down at his cup, keeping his gaze away from Remy. It wasn’t like this with the other barista. Apparently Remy has the ability to throw Janus completely out of balance, be it his obnoxious attitude or the fact that he was so brazenly admiring of Janus the other day. Either way, it has disrupted his calm. But isn’t that just typical? The shitty cherry on top of an equally shitty week. 

Of course, now would be the time disaster strikes, and Logan, looking as cool and collected as ever, enters the café.

He doesn’t see Janus, instead strolling up to the counter with infuriatingly even strides. Janus has the sudden image of him tripping over his own feet and landing flat on his face. With his luck, though, Patton would probably walk in afterward and start fussing over him. And alright, so Janus is feeling exceptionally bitter right now, whatever. He is absolutely determined not to let anything get to him today, no matter what crass baristas and suddenly-appearing-Logans have to say about it. He is going to finish his coffee and go to the park and have a good, peaceful morning, damn it. 

“Hello, could I get one plain dark roast and one,” Logan sighs, “chocolate mocha blast supreme with two shots of chocolate syrup?” 

“Sure babe, just gimme one second,” Remy murmurs, barely looking up from his phone. Janus smirks.

All is silent in the little coffeehouse. Logan waits, but after several minutes have passed, Janus can tell he’s getting impatient. “Excuse me,” he says. Janus can hear the frown in his voice. “I’d really like to place my order now, I’ve got someplace to be.” 

Janus barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Someplace to be’ is most certainly a date with Patton at the apartment, as it’s Patton’s day off and he’s been talking of nothing but relaxing on the couch with Disney movies and a cup of cocoa (or a chocolate supreme mocha, or whatever the fuck kind of coffee abomination Patton has ordered). It isn’t as though Logan has any sort of pressing appointment, unless he plans on ditching Patton and going to the dentist or something. 

Janus sighs quietly. He knows he’s being unfair. If Remy behaved this way toward him, it’d take everything in him not to bite his head off. But the fact that Logan has managed to maintain his self-control, even in the face of something so blatantly disrespectful, is… well. It’s no wonder Patton likes him better, and Janus hates that. He hates that he has no excuse to dislike Logan other than petty jealousy, and he hates that Logan is a much better man than he is. He does things right that Janus didn’t even realize that he’d been doing wrong. It’s infuriating and disheartening and, yep, his good mood is officially gone. 

“Just one more second, okay? Okay, thanks,” Remy says, still typing furiously at his cell. 

Logan crosses his arms. “Please could you just ring me up? Or possibly get me another barista? I’ve been waiting for seven minutes now and you haven’t moved.” 

“Alright, well, I’m not even supposed to be here right now,” Remy snaps, still not looking away from his phone. He sounds annoyed, but there’s an undertone of something else that Janus can’t name. “It’s Patricia’s shift but she called in sick, so now I have to cover for her and cancel all my plans, which is incredibly frustrating for me since there were a lot of them. I’ll have you know I’m extremely popular.” 

Janus can’t see Logan’s face, but he’d imagine they’re both thinking the same thing: is this guy serious? 

“Are you serious?” Logan asks, scoffing. “Look, I’m sorry you having to do your job is such an inconvenience, but you’re getting paid to be here. Would you mind showing some professionalism and putting the phone away for the five minutes it would take to make my coffee?” By the end, Logan has actually raised his voice a little, and his posture is completely stiff. It’s very obvious that he’s pissed off.

Remy doesn’t even look at him. His gaze hasn't left his phone, but his body’s gone very still. He’s no longer typing. Janus wishes he could see his eyes under those stupid sunglasses just so he could get a read on him. 

After what has to be another minute of nothing but Logan’s heavy breathing, Janus is seriously contemplating locking himself in his room and never coming out again. Finally, Logan storms out, too angry to notice Janus sitting by the door, stiff as a board and awkward as hell. Meanwhile, Remy still hasn’t moved. Janus is beginning to wonder if he’s having some sort of stroke.

What would Patton do, he thinks to himself pointlessly. Janus knows what Patton would do. He would walk right up there and start mothering the idiot, sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong and trying to make people feel better. Janus isn’t that kind of person, but he finds himself rising up out of his chair anyway. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, once he reaches the counter. He’d tried to sound concerned, or at least sympathetic, but it ended up kind of bored. 

Remy raises his head slowly to look at him. Or, Janus thinks he’s looking at him—he’s still got his sunglasses on. He sniffles a little. Janus closes his eyes, taking a minute to send a very fervent fuck you! to the universe, before he’s faced with a suddenly sobbing barista. 

“Oh for the love of Christ,” he mutters. Remy must hear him, because he puts his hands over his face and starts to cry harder. Janus is possibly starting to panic a little bit. “Okay, okay, um. Why don’t you try taking some deep breaths?” 

“Oh, just fuck off,” Remy replies. He sounds wet and not a little pathetic. 

Janus grits his teeth. “Look, I’m trying to help you out.” 

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job,” Remy snarks. He turns his back to Janus and starts grabbing napkins, pressing them to his face. Janus groans angrily, feeling the last dregs of his composure drain away. 

“What are you even crying about? He didn’t even yell at you, and if he had, you would’ve deserved it,” Janus snaps.

Remy turns back around and glares at him, glasses finally off. He picks up his phone and tosses it with such force that it skids across the counter before falling off the edge. Janus looks at it, then at Remy. He raises an eyebrow at him. “Really?” 

“My boyfriend just broke up with me, you ass,” Remy hisses, face blotchy and eyes wet with tears. “Over text.”

Janus can’t help but wince a little in sympathy. “Ouch.” 

“We’ve been together for two years,” Remy cries, back to blubbering. “Two years. Two years of my life I wasted on that idiot, only for him to text me—while I’m at work—that he’s met someone else. God, what the fuck.”

They stand there together for what feels like literal eons with nothing but the sound of Remy’s horrible hitching breaths. After it seems like he’s got the worst of it out, Janus reaches over and pats him on the shoulder, completely nonplussed. “Uh. There, there?” 

“You’re really terrible at this,” he says, but he’s not crying as hard anymore, and it looks he almost smiles before he starts sniffling again. 

“Oh, come on. I’m trying my best. I don’t really have that much experience with comforting emotionally unstable baristas, funnily enough.” 

This time, Remy actually does smile, just a little. “I never would’ve guessed,” he says drily. Janus snorts. 

“Listen. Fuck him, okay? If he’s so much of a coward that he can’t break up with you in person like a decent human being, then he’s not worth it,” Janus says. 

“Well, obviously, but it still hurts.” 

“Obviously,” Janus mutters, rolling his eyes. “What I meant was, take the rest of the day off and go eat ice cream on your couch or something. After a few weeks, you’ll probably feel better.” He hands the discarded phone back. “Just stop bringing your problems to work.” 

Remy sniffed. Janus had a feeling he was trying to be disparaging, but his eyes were red-rimmed and watering, and his nose was pink. Simply put, he looked too pitiful to take seriously. Janus huffed a laugh. 

“I thought you were trying to make me feel better. Instead you’re laughing at me,” he whines. 

Janus looses a put-upon sigh. “Can you blame me? What would you do, in this ridiculous situation?” 

“Oh, I would definitely be laughing,” Remy replies. “But I’m beginning to suspect that you might be a better person than me.”

“Oh my god, okay, that’s enough socialization for one day.” Janus backs away from the counter. “So… you’re alright? You’re not going to burn down the café if I leave, or something?”

Remy glares at him. “No, you fucker. I’m despondent, not criminally insane.”

”Debatable,” Janus mumbles. He tosses his empty cup and heads for the door. 

“My name’s Remy, by the way.” 

Janus turns, door half-open, and gives him an incredulous look. “Alright? I knew that.” 

“Wow, there’s no getting anywhere with you, is there? The proper social convention when meeting someone is to introduce yourself. Stop acting like I’ve committed some heinous act.” Remy crosses his arms. “Also, I’d like to thank you. For. You know. Coming up here and being such an asshole that I forgot about my asshole ex-boyfriend, for a second.” 

Janus snorts. “Don’t mention it. Seriously.” He hesitates in the doorway. “Your coffee is delicious, by the way. You’ll have no problem finding the right man with brewing skills like that.” 

“Oh my god, no way. Was that an actual compliment? Damn, you may actually be human after all.” 

Janus sighs, and as he leaves, he most certainly does not look back, only to see Remy staring after him. 

*~*~*~*

The next morning, Janus stops by Brixton’s again before class. Just to grab some coffee to get him through his day. It has nothing to do with wanting to check up on a certain barista. Obviously. 

When he walks in, he can physically feel his body lose its tension. Brixton’s has some sort of magic. Remy is here, coincidentally, working the early shift. Janus allows himself a moment to be happy about how much better he looks today. As annoying as he may find the idiot, it’s nice to know he’s not too broken up about his ex.

“Well hello there,” he says when Janus saunters up to the counter. “What can I get you, kind sir? A cup of chivalry? How about an espresso with two shots of righteousness?” 

Janus gleefully lets all his good feelings go. 

“A plain dark roast, you bastard, and make it snappy. I have class in half an hour.”

Remy glances curiously at him as he starts on Janus’s order. “Class? You’re a student? You look… a bit old for that.” 

“I’m in law school,” Janus replies, careful not to let any emotion through. The undamaged side of his face looks no older than twenty-four, but his scar seems to age him considerably, as if he’s seen more of life than he should’ve. In a way, it’s true. It still manages to make him uncomfortable when people bring it up, though, unconsciously or not. “I’m getting ready to take the baby bar in a few months.”

“Damn, girl, so you’re like… smart?” Remy leans back against the opposite counter as the roast prepares.

Janus smirks. “I suppose you could say that.” 

He doesn’t mention that he’s barely passing con. law, or that he’s skipped basically all his tort classes. It’s not like Remy needs to know that. 

“That’s pretty wild. I’ve never really imagined being anywhere than where I am now,” Remy replies, gesturing to the café. “I just started working here, but I worked at Starbucks for, like, three years before this, so I’m basically an expert coffeemaker.” He grins smugly. “At least, that’s what my patrons have told me.” 

Janus shoots him a look. “I can’t imagine who would say such a thing. It’s not like your ego needs any stroking.” 

Remy makes a noncommittal sound and turns back to the roast. Janus lets the conversation drop as he works, but once he’s set the steaming cup in front of him, he can’t resist any longer. 

“So,” he drawls casually. “Speaking of stroking your ego, you look… less terrible today. How’s the breakup going?” 

Remy scowls. “How do you think it’s going? I ate, like, an entire box of Lucky Charms and then cried myself to sleep last night while watching Thirteen Going on Thirty.  Now, I’m at work, where I have to chat and smile and pretend I’m not fucking miserable.” 

“Well, it’s not like this place is ever really busy,” Janus says, then frowns. “Which is odd, actually. Why don’t more people come here? The coffee's sublime, and it’s in a great location.” 

Remy mouths sublime to himself questioningly before responding, “I don’t know about you, but being stared down by a bunch of fucking birds while I have my morning fix isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.” 

“I like the chickens,” Janus mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat. Remy laughs in his face. 

“Of course you do. I think you’re, like, the weirdest person I’ve ever met.” 

“Yes, well, you’re, like, the rudest person I’ve ever met,” Janus snaps mockingly. He takes a sip of his coffee. It’s delicious.