Work Text:
It's a poorly kept secret that Janus is always cold. His fiendish supervillain getup is really nothing more than an excuse to warm himself up, without showing up in Thomas's living room decked out to the nines in sweaters and wool socks. (It doesn't hurt that he looks cool as hell.)
After his acceptance (if you can call it that), the other sides...spend more time with him. Around him might be a better way to phrase it, because he certainly wouldn't call himself included. Not really. He's not chased out of the living room, hissed at, or swatted with a newspaper, but he knows when he's not really wanted.
It hurts, but he's used to it. He's had to be used to it. There's no point in pretending otherwise. But as the days drift onward, he finds himself showing up more and more in cozy yellow sweaters, his only concessions to his former attire his hat (which keeps his head warm) and his gloves (which keep his hands warm...ish). At first, he's met with suspicion and bewilderment from all but Remus (as Remus is more than used to his cozier garb).
"That's a new sweater, huh?" Patton might say, as he stirs an enormous bowl full of chocolate chip cookie dough. Janus hums and makes a noncommittal noise, because it's not really, but it is for the others, so he doesn't really know how to answer that.
"Interesting scarf," Virgil might mutter, passing him by on the stairs. This, Janus feels free to ignore. Virgil seldom desires a reply to his little observations, and their relationship is still so brittle, it feels like it could shatter again at any moment.
"You're not wearing your cape," Logan might observe, after his morning coffee. To this, Janus just nods, and Logan looks like he's making a mental note. Janus wonders what for. Surely it isn't that unusual to wear different clothes? The others do it all the time. Is he not allowed to do the same?
"Still got the hat on, I see," Roman mumbles, yawning after another late night session in the living room, arms piled high with an untidy stack of papers.
Remus says nothing. Janus appreciates the quiet.
Then they both get invited to movie night. Pajama Time Only! the invitation reads, and in a different script at the bottom, it reads P.S. That means no capes, no hats, no gloves. Remus, for the love of all that's holy, PUT ON YOUR CLOTHES.
Janus frowns. The hat isn't an issue, not really. If he wears his snake onesie, then he can simply pull the hood over his hair and keep warm that way. His gloves, though... He looks down at his gloves. It's harder for him to lie without the gloves. And his hands... If they see that his hands are also speckled with scales, what will that do? They already think his scales and other snake attributes are unnatural. He supposes he could just wear them anyway, but he doesn't feel up to the argument he'll almost certainly have with Roman (if he's guessing the handwriting correctly).
Anxiety squirms in his stomach as he strips off his gloves. Iridescent scales glitter up at him in irregular patches, much like human psoriasis. He inches his hands up, back into the sleeves of his onesie. Now only the tips of his fingers poke out, his nails covered in chipped yellow and green polish from the last time Remus got creative. There, that's better.
"Are you ready?" He calls into the dark gloom of Remus's room. A great clatter arises and Remus appears from the shadows, wearing a skirt of pool noodles. And nothing else.
"Nope," Janus says. "That does not count as pajamas."
"Aww, Jan Jan," Remus whines. "Come onnnn."
"Patton will have a heart attack if he sees you in that," Janus says, making little shooing motions. "I know you have more appropriate sleep attire."
"Fine," Remus grumbles, slinking back into his room. When he emerges this time, he's wearing booty shorts with 'spank me' embroidered on the ass, and a crop top with Cthulhu brooding over it. Janus looks at it, blinks, then looks again.
Close enough.
"Come on," he says. Insecurity strikes as they meander down the hallway, drawn to the laughing murmur of voices and the sound of Disney already playing.
"Janus! Remus! You made it!" Patton exclaims. The conversation breaks off, jagged and sharp, and Janus hides deeper into his onesie, only marginally reassured by the fact everyone else (besides Remus) is also in a onesie.
"I like your onesie," Patton confides, as Janus finds a place to sit down on the floor, resting against the sofa. Remus sprawls on the floor next to him, deliberately manspreading until Janus coughs and elbows him.
"I said wear clothes," Roman points out sharply. "Remus, how is that-"
"Hey, his previous outfit was a skirt of pool noodles," Janus interjects. "Give the man a break." Ignoring Roman's horrified sputtering, he turns to Patton. "So what are we watching?" He asks smoothly, with a grace he does not feel.
"Roman thought we'd start with Frozen!" Patton chirps. "Sound good?"
"Fantastic," Janus murmurs. It's only slightly sarcastic. Patton doesn't seem to sense it, or maybe he just doesn't care. Remus jams his shoulder next to Janus aggressively, practically pulling Janus into his lap and ignoring his brother's muffled noises of frustration. Janus fights not to melt at the warmth emanating from the creative side.
He doesn't pay very much attention to the movie, even when Roman and Remus start singing all the songs (Remus with hilariously mangled lyrics). So he almost doesn't notice when everyone begins to fall asleep. It starts with Patton, nestled against Logan. But soon, Logan's eyelids droop shut, his glasses clinging precariously to his nose, and Roman's bombastic voice dies away, replaced by soft snores. Even Re-
Oh.
Janus swallows, abruptly wide awake. His throat tightens as he looks around at the cozy, domestic scene. One that he emphatically does not belong in. He carefully scoots away from Remus, preparing to stand.
"Wait," a voice says. He almost doesn't recognize it as Roman's at first, it's so quiet and foggy with sleep.
"My apologies," Janus says, brittle. "I'll just get out of your perfectly manicured hair in a second-"
"No, that's not-" Roman huffs a breath in frustration. Janus stands, and Roman's hand darts out, seizing his wrist. For a moment, they both freeze, Janus closing his eyes in preparation of rejection as Roman's gaze falls onto the clusters of scales speckling his bare hand.
"Stay," Roman says, and Janus sags so abruptly in surprise Roman has to lunge forward to catch him.
"What?" Janus sputters.
"Stay, Jan Jan," Remus whines, his hand curling around Janus's ankle. "It's not the same without you."
"You have literally never slept in a cuddle pile with me before," Janus points out. Remus shrugs.
"Well then, I wanna start," he says. "Now sleep." Roman snaps his fingers, turning the couch into an enormous bed that Janus finds himself floating on.
"Please?" Roman requests. There's something in his eyes that Janus will have to decipher later, something that hints at reconciliation and perhaps even more, but for now, Janus gives up and lies down fully, Remus promptly claiming him.
He's never been so warm in his life.