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Janus always does this.
He forces Virgil to go to these stupid vampire parties that he doesn’t want to go to, the whole point is that Virgil is supposed to be eye candy on Janus’s arm, and then Janus leaves him alone anyway. He likes to think that he’s strong and could in theory defend himself against an attacker, but he’s also not an idiot. Vampires are stronger and faster than humans, if any of them wanted to take a bite out of him, they could easily, no matter how hard he fights back. He knows that from first hand experience. They don’t even have any refreshments for him. What is he supposed to do to occupy his time while Janus is frollicking around without him?
The system he’s developed over the years has been simple: glue himself to a wall, just far enough away from the exit to not draw the attention of anyone coming and going, but close so that once Janus finds him again they can leave quicker. It doesn’t fix his boredom, but this way he is rarely bothered by any vampire that isn’t his master.
Of course, whatever being that cursed him to this fate had to have a good laugh on this day: Virgil indeed gets approached by a vampire that isn’t Janus.
“Well look at you. What’s a pretty thing like you doing, hiding in the corner over here?” The man asks, stepping just barely close enough to Virgil to be too close. Virgil, at this point almost on instinct, hisses at him. Usually it catches vampires by surprise, but the man just laughs. His laugh is twisted, entirely too loud so it catches the attention of those further from them, and it brings back any amount of intimidation the man lost with his bright green blouse. “That’s a flavor of feisty I haven’t seen before,” he laughs, but then looks at Virgil with a hungry grin, “I like that.”
“Back off, I’m claimed,” Virgil says, giving the taller man a glare. This does nothing to deter the man, in fact he all but coos at Virgil.
“Awe, how cute. You think that can protect you.” The man steps closer, so that Virgil would have shimmy against the wall if he wanted to get away without touching him. “A claim only means that I’ll piss off whoever your owner is if I decide that I want a little snack from you.”
The man runs the back of a finger down Virgil’s jaw, and he hisses again, then tries to bite the man’s hand. Of course, the man’s vampire reflexes are quicker and moves his hand away before Virgil ever gets close. Luckily for Virgil, a familiar voice comes from behind the man, and he sees Janus over his shoulder. “Remus,” Janus says, his voice calm but harsh, “If you would be so kind as to step away from my claimed. Didn’t your mother teach you not to touch what doesn’t belong to you?”
Janus’s voice pulls this so-called Remus away from Virgil, enough so that he can escape and wrap himself around one of Janus’s arms. He hisses at Remus again just for good measure, but once again the gesture only amuses Remus. “Can you blame a man for curiosity, Janus? He just looks so… delicious.”
Remus licks his lips at Virgil, and Virgil presses himself closer into his master’s body. Janus’s free hand rests on top of Virgil's, his nails digging in just slightly. Virgil can’t tell if the gesture is intended to be protective or a warning. “Have you forgotten that curiosity killed the cat? Surely you do not intend for us to go to war again, over something as simple as-” Janus’s nails press harder into Virgil’s hand, “-a human? They are replaceable, if you recall.”
The amused look on Remus’s face turned to something sharper. Virgil has seen that look on Janus’s face many times. The recollection of a shared history that no one wants to come right out and talk about. Instead they beat around the topic with illusions to whatever happened and vague threats of revenge. “Yes, I do recall. Janus. Be rest assured, I have not forgotten.”
Vampires and their politics. Ugh.
Virgil leans up into Janus’s ear, but they both know Remus can hear him anyway, “I want to leave, Janus.”
Janus sharply turns his eyes towards Virgil, but it’s only upon seeing Remus’s eyebrow raise that he realises his mistake. Janus’s nails dig roughly into Virgil’s jaw as he forces eye contact, “What was that, Virgil?”
“I would like to leave, master.” He corrects himself, with no hesitation.
“That’s better. You don’t get to make demands if you’re going to disrespect me in the very same sentence, you little brat.”
“I’m sorry,” Virgil mumbles, but Janus is already turning his attention back to Remus, who looks on with a smug grin.
“Wow, Janny. You can’t even train him right. Maybe I should take him for myself, clearly you can’t handle him.”
“Thank you, Remus,” Janus says through clenched teeth and nails sharp on Virgil’s wrist, “but I can assure you I can handle him. Good day, Remus, it was so lovely to see after so long.”
“I’m sorry,” Virgil says again as soon as the door to Janus’s home is closed. Janus doesn’t even look at him, he all but shoves his coat on to the coat rack and marches further into the house. Virgil chases him, not bothering to take off his own coat. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, master, it was a genuine mistake.”
Janus pauses with his hand on the doorknob to his study, “Go to your room, Virgil.” Then the door is closed, the sound of the lock audible in the otherwise quiet house. Virgil makes Janus angry all the time. There’s a routine to it, the predictability that is sometimes the only thing keeping Virgil sane. Janus gets angry, he takes it out on Virgil in some way that leaves him bleeding, which inevitably leads to Virgil being positioned in Janus’s lap for a proper feeding. If Janus was really mad, he’d drink enough to make Virgil pass out in his arms, but it was very rare.
This was new. No punishment, just Janus locking himself away from Virgil.
Virgil couldn’t sleep that night. How could he? With Janus somewhere downstairs so mad at him he couldn’t even look at him, he could do nothing but stew in his own anxiety. What would that mean for his future? Virgil didn’t want this life at first, but now he could hardly imagine anything else. You can’t just go back to a 9-5 after being a vampire's plaything for years, right?
After hours of tossing and turning, Virgil decides to go sit at his window instead. He tries not to leave his bed during the night, as he knows Janus can hear him, but if he lays here a moment longer he’s going to go insane. The window sill was the reason Virgil chose this room once Janus allowed him to leave the basement, a nice little nook he could sit in with a beautiful view of surrounding forest and the sunrise in the mornings.
Virgil pulls the blackout curtains open, just in time to see Remus’s fist come through the glass.
Janus has complicated feelings about this modern invention “headphones”. He has yet to get used to the feeling of them on his head or heaven forbid in his ears, even though Virgil seems so fond of the feeling. However, the noise reduction capabilities felt wonderful to his centuries-overstimulated ears. The heightened senses had their pros and cons, and while Janus wouldn’t trade them for the world, living with them day-to-day could get overwhelming.
Earlier in the year Virgil got (or rather, convinced Janus to get) headphones that were completely noise canceling, and by god was it glorious. It was particularly helpful on nights where his emotions were getting the better of him and he needed a distraction, which he couldn’t go to Virgil for. Talking to Virgil about his emotions was enough for him, Virgil didn’t need to see them.
Because of these headphones, Janus feels more than he hears a thud come from upstairs. He pulls his headphones off, but the house is eerily quiet for something to have just shaken the house. He hears shuffling coming from the direction of Virgil’s room, and he pauses to wonder what Virgil could be doing.
Until Virgil screams, undeniably muffled not by the distance, but by something trying to keep him quiet.
The first thing that hits Janus when he swings open Virgil’s door is the smell. The room reeks of Remus, of which the sight is the second thing that hits Janus. The two of them make eye contact, Remus cackles at him, and then jumps out of the window. Janus runs to follow him, but is stopped by a pained groan from the floor on the other side of Virgil’s bed.
He finds Virgil on his back on the floor, pale hands clutching his own neck. He smells of Remus and his own blood, and Janus pulls Virgil’s hands away just as the marks left by Remus’s teeth close and heal, leaving no traces but the memory in Janus’s brain. One of Virgil’s hands tightens around Janus’s, barely there but just enough to grab his attention.
“I’m here, I’m here Virgil,” Janus mutters, bringing Virgil’s head into his lap. He’s not dead, at least not yet, and for now that’s all each of them have to hold on to. He runs his fingers through Virgil’s hair, murmuring meaningless promises that they’ll be okay. He’s not dead, but he might be very soon, and the only thing Janus can do is keep touching him, and let the bond of his claim heal him.
Virgil squeezes his hand again, drawing his attention from the window (when had he looked away?) back to his now open eyes. His eyes are dull, not as in the life has left his eyes, but as in the dark brown is now a pale gray. A pit opens at the bottom of Janus’s stomach.
The bastard didn’t just attack his claimed, he turned him.
How anyone could abandon a newly turned vampire, Remus could not understand.
He felt horrible. The past week Remus has been struck with headache and heartaches, his body telling him to get back to Virgil and help him. Newly turned vampires need the energy of the vampire who turned them in order to survive, Remus had seen it first hand. That is why this instinct to return to Virgil is so strong, and that is why he is ignoring it. But, by god, did it suck. Remus had left his apartment only once to feed, which meant the pain was made worse by his hunger. But the idea of going out to feed again while he feels like this makes him want to vomit.
He has confined himself to his couch, watching trashy tv like it can make the pain go away, and if he waits long enough it eventually will. He knows that within the next day or two he’ll have to go out again and feed if he doesn’t want to lose himself to bloodlust. Eventually he’ll have to get up, even if his body forces him to.
Or a knock on his door. Remus groans, loud enough that whoever’s there definitely heard. This does nothing to deter this visitor, in fact they knock again. At best, this interruption brings him a body to feed off of, so he supposes getting the door is worth it. At worst, the person on the other side of the door is none other than Janus Novok.
“Remus,” Janus says, a tight smile on his face.
“What the hell do you want?”
Janus’s gaze, though subtle, shifts at the hallway around him. “May I come in, Remus?”
“No.”
“Are you certain this is a conversation you would like your neighbors to overhear?” Janus asks, and Remus does seriously consider it. His neighbors already think that he’s weird, because he is. But having them suspect that he’s a vampire is another thing. Would they overhear their conversation and take it seriously? At this point, they might as well.
“Fine,” Remus relents, turning back into his living room. Janus follows him inside, closes, and attempts to lock the door. The lock is rusted and won’t easily budge, so Janus abandons the notion. If Remus liked Janus a little more, he’d find the action endearing. Unfortunately, he has a pretty strong vendetta against the man. He sits on his couch and asks again, “What do you want?”
Janus looks so out of place in his small living room. He looks out of place in Remus’s home. He’s wearing slacks and a button up, not too formal but significantly more formal than Remus’s tank top and shorts. He stands in the path from the door to the rest of the apartment that’s not covered in Remus’s belongings or trash, and eyes the seat on the couch next to Remus like he’s considering if he should sit. Remus doesn’t invite him to. “Remus, I understand that you turned my claimed as an act of revenge-”
“Damn right. I’m glad you're not too stupid to catch on.”
Remus watches Janus bite back a snide response, and that does amuse him. Janus has come to ask him to not let Virgil die. How cute. “Yes. As you and I both know, a vampire in the process of turning will die if their maker is not present-”
“Yes, we are both familiar, aren’t we?”
“-and I have come to ask you not to let that happen to my claim- to Virgil.”
“Let me think about it-” Remus rubs his chin like he’s thinking, and in the space Janus sighs, “No.”
“Remus, I come to you as-”
“I don’t give a shit. You didn’t when you were in this position.” Janus looks surprised by this outburst, but Remus doesn’t know the man well enough to tell if it’s a lie or not. They stare at each other for far longer than is necessary, which only serves to get on Remus’s nerves. “What.”
“Are you…” Janus blinks, like the question brings him out of a daze. His voice doesn’t come out quite right, and so he clears his throat and tries again, although his voice remains quiet. “Are you under the impression that I wanted Roman to die?”
Remus lets a slow breath out his nose. His body forces him to, to dispel whatever emotion this question brings to him. Somewhere between anger and catharsis, and just the slightest twinge of pain.
Roman, Remus’s twin brother, had met Janus sometime after Remus was turned. They did not speak often, but Roman trusted Janus, something about Janus protecting him against monsters on their adventures.
Remus, while out on his own adventure, caught word that his kingdom’s prince had fallen ill. The next evening a letter arrived from their father asking him to rush home, and that he did. Roman was bedridden, sweating out a fever but shaking with violent chills, and Remus did not leave his side for the next two weeks, until Roman’s hand squeezed his for the last time. It wasn’t until that last night that Roman told Remus what had happened.
Janus had turned him. And Remus was there, the whole time Roman was dying, and Janus was not.
“He had been attacked,” is what Janus tells him now, five hundred years and countless fights, battles, and wars later. “He had already lost so much blood by the time I got to him, if I hadn’t-” Janus takes a shaky breath, “If I hadn’t turned him he would have died right there. I was trying to save him.”
“That’s very sweet and all,” Remus says, his voice dripping with venom. He doesn’t know when he stood up, but he is definitely looking down at Janus, who has also been looking down in shame since Roman’s name was brought up, “but perhaps you’ve forgotten the part where you abandoned him, and left your turning to kill him. As we both know, ‘a vampire in the process of turning will die if their maker is not present.’”
Janus looks back up at Remus, tired sadness etched into his centuries-old-face. “I didn’t abandon him,” He says at an almost whisper, which serves to piss off Remus more than the sentence itself. If they’re going to argue, let them argue properly. This is no fun. “He refused to see me. He said he’d have rather died a hero than become one of us.” Janus pauses, examining Remus’s face, he gives him nothing. “I am sorry that your brother died the way that he did. I assure you, Remus, that was not what I wanted or had intended.”
It’s Remus’s turn to examine Janus’s face. At some point during a tear had escaped Janus’s scarred eye, which he had made no move to wipe away. Remus was acutely aware that Janus could be trying to manipulate him, trying to make it seem like Roman’s death was a loss for both of them. He’s seen Janus play with people's emotions to get his way before.
He is also aware that he had heard the guards outside of the room containing his brother’s deathbed as they warned the ones taking over their shifts to beware a man with a scar through his left eye, per Prince Roman’s orders. He is aware that he heard his mother and his father arguing over the intentions of a visitor Remus never got to see. He is aware that at the funeral, at the edge of the forest which lined the royal graveyard he saw a figure in a black cloak, of which he made eye contact for just a second. From the distance it was hard to tell, but he swore he caught a glimpse of a scar along the figure's cheek, before he retreated into the forest.
He is aware, in fact he’s been painfully aware for five hundred years, that Roman waited until it was too late to tell Remus why he was sick.
This has to be the most painful thing a person can experience.
Virgil has been sweating like hell, he can’t wear any clothes or else they get soaked and stick to his body uncomfortably. Janus has been changing the sheets of his bed every morning with how soaked they are from his sweat. At the same time, he is freezing. His body is shaking so hard, as hard as when he gets his worst panic attacks. At least then, he’s not as aware and can’t really feel the shaking. Janus has been holding him a lot, which helps keep him from shaking so bad. Virgil knows Janus has been talking to him, but it takes so much energy to focus on his voice that Virgil hasn’t really heard anything he’s said.
A hand grabs his own, and Virgil grips it like a vice. There’s a part of him that feels relieved to have this hand as a comfort, deep and instinctual, not like how he usually feels when Janus returns to him. He hears Janus’s voice from somewhere behind him, and then another voice he’s heard somewhere before. But he is just so relieved and yet still in so much pain that he can’t focus on that right now. He just has to trust that Janus has brought whoever this is for a good reason, and enjoy the little relief this hand brings him.
“Virgil?” Janus’s voice is soft, somewhat close to Virgil’s ear. His hand brushes away the hair sticking to his forehead, and Virgil finds it somewhere in him to grunt an acknowledgement. “I told you I’d find a way to make you better, and I have. But I know you’re not going to like it, so I need you to trust me, okay?”
Virgil tries to grunt or something, make any noise whatsoever, so instead he squeezes the hand in his. Somewhere above him, Remus shakes his head at Janus. He pauses on whatever thought he was going to give Virgil next, instead he presses a kiss to Virgil’s temple. Remus watches Virgil’s mouth tick upward, ever so slightly.
Virgil stops shaking two days later. The sweating stops three days after that, but it’s not until the end of the week that Virgil actually opens his eyes. He wakes up, feeling the best he’s felt in two weeks, Janus breath against the back of his neck and their fingers intertwined. He sighs contently, basking in the serene silence.
Until it is interrupted by the loudest snore Virgil has ever heard. Comes from his window sill, where he sees Remus, asleep in a sitting position with his head lolling back against the wall. Ah, so that’s what Janus meant when he said that Virgil wouldn’t like the solution. He was right.
It takes a great deal of effort–his body is already exhausted, and he hasn’t moved it in two weeks–but he manages to push himself into a sitting position, without disturbing Janus. He drags Janus’s hand into his lap, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles as a means of fidgeting. He watches Remus continue to snore, a scowl on his face. He watches Remus’s head fall to the side, towards the room, and the rest of his body follow, until he suddenly jolts awake and catches himself from falling towards the ground. If Virgil liked Remus more, he’d find the whole thing endearing.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Virgil asks, startling Remus further. Remus doesn’t respond at first, only meeting Virgil’s scowl with a deer-in-headlights look. “You have a lot of nerve, you know that?”
Remus says eventually, “Your master asked me to be here.” He says it with an edge, an attempt to seem tough and deflect the blame Virgil’s putting on him. If Virgil had the energy to, he might have laughed in Remus’s face.
Instead, he puts as much snark into his sentence as humanly possible, “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. Did he ask you to attack me?”
Remus’s eyes narrow, and he gives the question some consideration. “Depends on how you look at it,” he lands on, then he looks away from Virgil towards the window. It’s daytime and the blackout curtain is drawn, he can’t see anything out of it. At that, Virgil does bark a laugh. “Attacking you was revenge on Janus. I would have let you die, that was the main event.”
Virgil scoffs. “What changed? You suddenly came to your senses and realized that an eye for an eye means nothing?” He mocks, “Your human consciousness got a hold of you for a second, reminded you that you’re capable of empathy?”
“Janus informed me that the situation was different than I thought it was.”
This surprises a laugh out of Virgil, “And you believed him?”
“You think I shouldn’t have? You’d be dead if I didn’t.” Remus says. Virgil stares at him, but he has no rebuttal.
Another week passes, Virgil gains enough strength back to be independent, and was in desperate need of privacy to process that he was now a vampire. He still needed Remus around, and would for the next several months, much to his chagrin. In the meantime, he had kicked Janus and Remus out for the day, and it would take a long while for Remus to build up enough trust to be left alone in Janus’s home, so Janus is forced to work with Remus in the room. What a delight.
“Would have lied to me just to get me here to save Virgil?” Remus asks, laying across an armchair in Janaus’s study.
“Of course I would have,” Janus responds instantly, the speediness of it surprising a cackle out of Remus. “I didn’t, but absolutely I would.”
“I appreciate your honesty.”
“Of course.”
“About you lying.”
“Of course.”
“Virgil assumed that you did. He laughed in my face that I believed you.”
“He doesn’t want you around, even more so than I. He is trying to drive a wedge between us so that you’ll leave.”
“Sucks for him, because nothing could ever drive us apart! We’ve been best friends since day one, besties forever!” Janus looks up from his laptop to roll his eyes at Remus, but Remus catches the glimpse of a slight smirk on Janus’s face before he hides it behind the screen.
A month later, Virgil has stopped hissing at Remus every time he enters a room, and they’ve had a couple of pleasant conversations about the overlaps in their taste of music. Virgil had even made a snide comment towards Janus about his music taste, which meant that, in at least one aspect, it was Remus and Virgil against Janus.
When he had decided to come back, to make sure that Virgil didn’t die, he had complicated feelings about the matter. He was creating an inseparable connection with this man he had met once, they would both have to live with that for the rest of their immortal lives. Remus didn’t know Virgil, he didn’t know what to make of him. But now, he couldn’t make a proper decision on how to feel about Virgil, because he had found himself growing… fond of him. In a romantic sense.
He wasn’t lying when he had first approached Virgil. He found the man attractive, but he did to most things. He found Janus attractive too, when they had first met five hundred years ago. Remus would be lying if he said, now that he knows Janus isn’t as awful as he thought he was, that he didn’t think Janus’s cunning and wit weren’t attractive. Janus was also a factor in this equation. It had been clear to him that night that Virgil and Janus were closer than a master and their claimed were expected to be, and they had made no attempt at hiding the romantic nature of their relationship from Remus since he started hanging around.
On the other hand, vampires generally had less of a culture around monogamy and marriage in particular. Committing to a lifelong partner is one thing when your life is likely to last only about a century. Lifelong when you’re immortal in a whole other beast. There is a possibility that they’d be open to a third…
“What are you doing?” Virgil’s voice interrupts his train of thoughts. Remus isn’t sure what expression he makes at Virgil, but he laughs at him a moment later. “You gonna make stupid faces at me or are you gonna answer the question?”
“I was gonna watch a movie,” Remus says, sheepishly. By now he had earned enough trust to be left alone around the house. He had half the mind to go pull some shenanigans, but he was trying to get and stay in Janus and Virgil’s good graces, so for today he held off. Instead, he had planned to take advantage of Janus’s larger tv set up to watch something, not shitty TV shows on his shitty TV.
“What movie?” Virgil asks, stepping further into the room to take a glance at the TV. It was embedded into a bookshelf, dozens of worn books surrounding it, and it was open to whatever streaming service had come up when he had searched…
“I was thinking the new Nosferatu,” Remus says. Virgil turns back towards him with narrowed eyes, “What?”
“Janus hates vampire films,” Virgil says. Remus is surprised to learn that Janus likes any films at all, being as old school as he is. “The inaccuracies drive him crazy.”
“Well I’m not Janus,” Remus shoots back. He lifts half of the blanket sitting on his lap (Janus clearly doesn’t use this furniture often, it’s expensive looking but is godly uncomfortable without a bunch of pillows and blankets), offering Virgil a seat next to him, “care to join me?”
Virgil scrutinizes the invitation for a moment, before deciding that he would. Sharing a blanket means nothing, and if Virgil slowly scoots closer to him throughout the movie, then it’s just a figment of his imagination.
And when Virgil falls asleep on his shoulder before the end of the movie, if Remus decides to give him a kiss on his forehead and watch the corners of his mouth tick upward, ever so slightly, then he supposes that’s his business.
“You know, Janny,” Remus says, laying across an armchair in Janus’s study. Now that he has free reign of the house, there is no reason for Remus to be here while he’s working. But it’s just so entertaining to mess with Janus. It always has been. “I’ve always found you to be… what would the kids these days call it?”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Janus says, after Remus has paused long enough for him to realize the question wasn’t rhetorical.
“Attractive? Sexy? Hot?” Remus says, as if it is a question, as if he didn’t know exactly what words he was about to say. He hears Janus’s fingers pause against his keyboard, although his expression stays the same, and his eyes remain on the screen.
“I’m not sure how you want me to respond to that, Remus.” Janus eventually says as his fingers resume typing. His posture does hunch more, as if he’s trying to hide his face behind the screen.
“I think people say ‘thank you’ after they’ve been complimented." Remus says, sitting taller to grin at Janus over his laptop. At this angle, Remus can only see Janus’s eyes, and they meet for a brief moment. He watches Janus’s eyes narrow, before whatever snarky remark he was going to say dies on his tongue.
“Thank you, Remus.” He says instead, before coughing into a gloved hand. “You’re, uh, not so bad yourself.”
Remus’s grin softens, ever so slightly. He doesn’t know what exactly the near future holds for him, but as long as he can fluster Janus or kiss Virgil on his forehead without getting in trouble, then he supposes everything will be alright.