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Janus was expecting pushback. If this was to work, he needed to sweep in, snatch every scrap of power, and hold onto it. After all, he needed this as much as this ‘Virgil’ did. Needed a fresh start, somewhere to hide under another identity until they all stopped looking for him. What a pleasant coincidence that Virgil’s identity needed a little… care.
Janus didn’t knock on the door. This was now ‘his’ house. He unlocked the door with the key he’d been provided with, entering with a possessive smile.
The house was still cluttered with boxes. Excellent. Virgil hadn’t even settled in yet. Janus would have less acting to do during the transition period.
The man in question was practically hiding behind a couch, holding a lamp in two hands as if he would throw it or attempt to swing it at Janus. He was incredibly shabbily dressed, not even wearing a proper suit. Well that would have to change, at least as far as ‘Virgil Sanders’ went.
“Who are you?” Virgil demanded. “What are you doing in my house?”
Janus grinned smoothly, taking a relaxed stance. “I think you mean my house. After all, it belongs to Virgil Sanders, doesn’t it?”
Virgil’s face twisted in confusion. “That’s me?”
Janus raised one eyebrow. “No it isn’t. I’m Virgil Sanders. I don’t know who you are.”
Virgil spluttered, raising the lamp higher. “ I’m Virgil Sanders!”
Janus shrugged slightly. “I don’t believe you are. As I recall, you said that ‘Virgil Sanders’ would have the royal shaft in a town like this. And now he won’t. Of course, you don’t exist anymore.”
Virgil gaped. “Wha-“
Janus gave him a condescending smile. “Oh, but I’m so generous , taking care of my cousin. A bit of a wet rag, sticking close to the pad, but you can’t blame him. Been a bit off since his time in the army.”
“But, what, all this— I never intended to get into whatever this is!” Virgil protested, finally putting down the lamp.
Janus examined his gloves idly. “Your intentions are rather a moot point. It’s been done.”
Virgil sagged, his face still full of protest, but Janus knew he’d won. “Now, I believe I have a new job in the morning. I’ll take the master bedroom, hopefully this place has another for you.”
Virgil made a brief noise of protest, but Janus shot him a glare. “You don’t know me, of course, but you do know who sent me. I believe you can guess my capabilities if you step out of line.”
Virgil paled, all fight draining from him.
Janus smiled cordially again, reaching across the couch to pat Virgil’s cheek. “If you need any help coming up with a new name, I’m sure I can think of a few options, cuz.”
Janus turned away, walking confidently, as though he knew the layout of the house and wasn’t the slightest bit concerned about a bullet in the back.
- •^*^••
To Virgil’s shock, life wasn’t actually that bad.
Like, yeah, he had a criminal living in his house who had stolen his identity and now Virgil basically couldn’t leave. But the criminal actually worked the sales job Virgil had been dreading, and if the things he brought home sometimes were any indication, he was getting a lot more commission than Virgil had expected. And he was using that money to buy groceries for two.
Virgil had a room, which hadn’t originally been a bedroom, but had been converted easily enough. He could shut himself up in it all day if he wanted. Could write and draw to his heart’s content. He could even play his own records when his identity thief was away at work.
Not everything was pleasant. The other man had his run of the house, had Virgil’s name and paperwork to use for everything, and insisted on his own way in everything when he was home. It was especially awkward when he would bring home women. Virgil tried to stay hidden, but he would often overhear something condescending and pitying about himself, with vague anecdotes about the war. It was worse if they caught sight of him.
But… he supposed it was better than being run out of town, or worse, cause people found out he was gay. That was the biggest reason he’d gone to the man in the first place. Rumors getting too strong, his own awkwardness and inability to dispel them. They’d gone ahead of him to this small town, this very traditional small town. And he’d been scared. He hadn’t really thought anything would come of it, much less some stranger stealing his identity.
He could probably make a run for it, now. Leave, and try life again as someone other than Virgil Sanders. Now that ‘Virgil Sanders’ lived here, happily settled with a job and dates and all, there wouldn’t be suspicion.
He didn’t run though.
He stayed inside the house, sending out art and writing anonymously on occasion. He kept things generally clean. He dressed how he liked, not worried about being seen and criticized anymore. He even started cooking for the two of them most nights. Just out of boredom, or to pay back some of the money spent on his food. No other reasons.
He didn’t like the man. He’d stolen his identity, and hadn’t given Virgil so much as a name in return. He ran the house, ran Virgil’s life. It didn’t matter that he was handsome. He liked women anyway. And all his smooth words and confident grins were an act. None of him was genuine. Virgil couldn’t like him, not when he couldn’t see any of the real him to like.
It was entirely because he was the only other human Virgil saw regularly that Virgil had started drawing him. Virgil was only looking with an artist’s eye when he watched how his lips curved when he smiled. Only listening with a writer’s ear to steal the words when he spoke. Only thinking of how he might mend the coat someday when he studied how it fitted over the man’s shoulders. Only keeping things clean when he dusted off his hat.
He wasn’t falling. Absolutely not. Not for this nameless thief.
- •^*^••
Janus was surprised that Virgil stayed.
He’d been intentionally overbearing, snatching every scrap of power, of choice, everything he could. He wasn’t outright unkind to the man, but he would come home at differing hours, always demanding that Virgil turn off his music, that Janus got the good armchair. He would bring home the women he flirted with as cover, talking down about Virgil at the slightest hint of his presence, acting as if he were the most generous of all family members to put up with him. Even on the rare occasions that Virgil attempted to leave the house, Janus would often stop him with overly obvious excuses.
He felt slimy, keeping it up for so long. He’d truly thought Virgil would leave.
He hadn’t thought he’d be a decent man.
Janus didn’t know what to do when he arrived home to a cooked meal. Didn’t know how to respond when worn elbows sprouted patches overnight. Couldn’t think of anything to say when shy smiles started being directed at him.
He’d expected a shrimp of a man, cowering away from society just as much as he did from his own sexuality, wanting an excuse to hide even more. And that’s not what he was getting. Yes, Virgil had fears. Yes, he let himself get pushed around far more than he ought. But he had a backbone under there, one that didn’t bend under Janus’s insults and condescension. Virgil was taking the situation, twisted well out of his hands, and finding a way to live, to thrive in it. Janus couldn’t say he’d be able to do the same.
Janus parked the car he hadn’t been the one to purchase, and opened the front door of the house Virgil had chosen. He was greeted with the delicious smell of roasting meat and vegetables.
He heard the pause in sounds from the kitchen, Virgil listening to whether Janus was here alone or not. Janus set down his briefcase, putting his hat on the rack. Soft clinking of someone stirring a pot resumed.
A wave of disgust flowed through Janus as he sat on the couch. Virgil had made them dinner again, and would likely retreat with a plate to his room, leaving Janus to lord himself over the household. To sit casually in the living room, to eat in the kitchen, to play his music if he wanted, or keep the house in silence if he didn’t. If Janus left dishes in the sink, there was a fair chance he’d come down in the morning to them being clean.
It’d been nearly a year. Virgil still didn’t even have a name to address him by. He might even still believe that vague threat Janus had made at the beginning.
Janus sighed heavily. He felt like a terrible person. Why did he have to care? Why did Virgil have to stay?
He had to change something. He couldn’t live with himself like this.
Janus got up and walked to the kitchen, gentling his steps and his features so he wouldn’t seem to be angry at Virgil. He was particularly skittish about that.
Virgil was just setting a full dish onto the table. He was wearing an apron. That was unfairly cute, especially with Janus feeling the way he did. Did Virgil usually wear aprons when he cooked?
Janus cleared his throat lightly. “I was wondering if we could eat together tonight,” he asked.
Virgil blinked at him, clearly confused. “I… I guess I don’t see why not.”
“I’ll set the rest of the table,” Janus said, moving into action before Virgil could stop him.
Virgil watched him suspiciously, taking off his apron and sitting down. “Did something happen?”
Janus hummed noncommittally, bringing plates from the cabinet.
Virgil just watched him, eyes narrowed, as Janus finished setting the table and sat down himself.
Janus didn’t have a plan. Without thinking, he fell back on his instincts. Taking control, throwing his opponent onto their back foot, acting as though everything was expected. He leaned forward in his chair, resting his head on his hand casually. “You’ve stopped being afraid of me, haven’t you?”
Virgil blinked, confusion chasing sudden alarm and anger across his face. “What is this, you think you need to renew your threats?”
Janus chuckled. “Hardly.”
Virgil pushed forward before Janus could think of a better thing to say, aggressive now. “What then, get tired of me invading my own life? Am I too in the way for you to flirt like you want, my cover story too much of an embarrassment?”
Janus did not appreciate the aggression. He held himself back from responding in kind, where he would certainly win.
Virgil crossed his arms. “You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to kick me out of my own home.”
He served himself food, badly attempting to seem like he was dismissing Janus. His movements were jerky, and while he toyed with the food on his plate with a sense of purpose, he never raised a bite to his mouth.
Janus clicked his tongue. “Damn, and here I thought it might be that easy.” He served himself, succeeding where Virgil had failed, noting with some satisfaction the way Virgil’s eyes followed his every move.
It took him a while of awkward silence while they ate to regather his intentions for the discussion.
“If you’re going to stay,” Janus said lightly, as though it were a very small matter. “I’ve been thinking. I watch you walk lightly around the house.”
Virgil stiffened, glaring at his plate. “So you do want to renew your threats,” he muttered bitterly.
Janus just continued speaking. “It irks me to have all the power here. I’ll give you a piece, make things a bit more interesting.”
Virgil looked up at him, entirely untrusting.
It took more effort than he’d ever let show to say aloud. “Janus. I’ll let you discover the surname, if you can.”
Virgil frowned. “You wouldn’t tell me the truth about that.”
Janus shrugged. He was done sharing. That was enough to pacify his guilt. Or at least to raise his defenses above it.
- •^*^••
Virgil had nearly forgotten that there was a reason Janus stole his identity. A reason that Virgil stayed inside so people wouldn’t discover it. A reason he’d gone to the sketchy man in the first place.
He couldn’t decide, now, whether he appreciated what Logan had chosen to do or despised it. Sending Janus may have kept Virgil safe another year, but now instead of strangers, Virgil knew the one who’d eventually reveal him.
The worst part was that he was feeling lonely.
When he’d been innocently nursing a crush, he’d been more than content to be alone in a house with only Janus. But if Janus was back to threatening to out him… it was more than hopeless. If only he could stop the feelings.
Or at least find some other company somewhere. Anywhere.
And if he could manage a slight alibi for himself, he could have some protection in case Janus decided he was sick of him.
So one day, while Janus was gone, Virgil left the house.
Janus had the car, so he was on foot, but that was fine. He wasn’t so much trying to reach somewhere as he was trying to find somewhere.
In a small town like this, it’d be tricky to find, hidden away from all the ‘good folks’. But he’d find it somewhere. People outside the law met somewhere.
And most likely, the best he had to hope for was some dubious quality moonshine, but even that might help him at this point.
The walk was nice as well. It had been ages since Virgil had been out on a real long walk. And with his cover of being shell shocked, he had a fair excuse to keep his head down and not greet everyone he passed.
He found it near dusk. More casual than it had been in the last town he’d lived in, more out in the open as if daring people to say it wasn’t as it looked. Though it was still decidedly on the outskirts of the bad side of town.
It looked innocent enough from the outside. There were a few old women knitting in a little cluster of rocking chairs on the porch, jars that would surely be full of ‘sweet tea’ sitting between them. A man was sitting on the edge of the porch, snapping peas in a bowl.
Virgil tried to approach casually, knowing by the eyes on him that he was failing. “Mind if I help?” he asked.
They looked back and forth amongst themselves. Finally, one of the women reached into her basket, pulling out a snarl of yarn. “Only if you’ll untangle this.”
Virgil grinned slightly. It was a test, of a sort. What kind of a man was he, would he take a tedious task from her? Well, that was exactly the kind of man he was. He wasn’t here to shove his way in, or to get drunk off of whatever they might have, just to find a bit of company.
Virgil sat down on the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the support beams, and picked at the yarn in the failing light. Soon, conversation resumed over his head, washing over him pleasantly.
By the time the porch lights had to be turned on, there were a few more people gathered, but they paid no attention to Virgil. Someone had brought an old banjo, and one of the women pulled out a pair of spoons. Drinks and songs started flowing as the stars came out.
Virgil accepted a few sips of a moonshine so strong it made him gasp and splutter, letting the alcohol loosen up the stress he had from the number of people. It only reached eight at the most, but eight was still more than enough to have him tense.
Eventually, Virgil had untangled and rewound the yarn, and he was one of the last to leave. He returned it to the woman, and then helped her up out of the chair and into the house.
His walk home was much shorter, being direct. He spent a lot of it with his head craned up, idly watching the stars over him.
He didn’t expect the lights to be on when he approached. He slipped in the back door, and jumped when he was faced with Janus.
“Where have you been?” Janus demanded.
Maybe it was those sips of alcohol. Maybe it was just the boost in confidence from getting out. Maybe it was the company and songs, still giving him a sense of community, as new as it was. Whatever made him do it, he pushed past Janus.
“I went out.”
“I can see that,” Janus said, a cold bite coming into his voice.
“Don’t worry, ‘Virgil’ didn’t do anything. You’re fine.”
Janus’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t push for more, and Virgil escaped to his room.
- •^*^••
Well, he’d fucked up.
Virgil had never really sought out Janus, but it was clear that now he was avoiding him. And he’d been disappearing till late in the night a few times a week.
On one hand, Janus was startlingly attracted to watching Virgil grow a backbone. One the other, it set off all his warning alarms. A man with a backbone and a reason to dislike him was loose on the town where Janus couldn’t keep an eye on him. And he knew Janus’s real name, and that he was currently not using it.
If anyone could spread knowledge and poke around in ways that could harm Janus, Virgil could.
He had to do something about it. And for some reason, he felt strongly against terrifying the man into silence.
So he had a few options left.
He could simply trust Logan’s word, that Virgil was harmless. That one was out. He trusted Logan, but everyone failed a judgment call at some point.
He could jump the gun, come out of hiding. He’d greatly prefer not to.
He could attempt to sweet-talk his way onto Virgil’s good side, or bribe his way there, to cling to the status quo. That was a possibility. It seemed that a possibility was about the best outcome he could hope for at the moment. Until things became more clear.
Which is what led Janus to bringing home a set of paints. Virgil did a lot of sketching, perhaps he’d appreciate expanding that.
Virgil was in the living room today, sprawled over the armchair sideways, in a way that looked decidedly uncomfortable. He had a sketchbook propped against his thighs, and was in fact currently drawing something.
He huffed when Janus looked at him. “If you insist on having the good chair all the time, you can at least ask when you want me to leave it.”
“Actually,” Janus said, trying to keep his voice natural instead of smooth and sly. “I wanted to give you this. We haven’t been… cordial, recently. Perhaps it could help.”
Virgil looked at the paper bag in confusion, accepting it slowly. He peeked inside, his eyes widening. “Paint?”
Janus shrugged, unable to both hold himself bare and meet Virgil’s eyes. “You seem to enjoy art.”
A short, disbelieving laugh fell from Virgil’s lips, and he twisted to sit more properly in the chair. “So you bought me paint?”
“If you dislike it, I’ll return it.”
Janus couldn’t see Virgil’s expression while his gaze was focused on a smudge on the windowpane, but he noticed the crinkle as Virgil pulled the bag to his chest. “No. I’m keeping it.”
A slight triumph pulled at Janus’s lips. “Well then.”
He’d succeeded in making Virgil happy with him. His chest warmed. Only because he needed Virgil’s cooperation to stay hidden, of course. There was no other reason for him to feel so pleased and proud of himself. For him to treasure that little quirk of lips that Virgil thought couldn’t be seen as he turned away to take the paints to his room. These feelings were just… business. Really.
- •^*^••
Virgil didn’t understand Janus.
Time had passed, they’d been living together for nearly three years now, and while Virgil might be willing to say they were friends, he was well aware that he knew almost nothing about Janus.
But sometimes, sometimes Janus would be different. All his smoothness would turn rough and raw, awkward in an endearing way. Sometimes Virgil would make coffee in the morning, offer him a cup, and his eyes would widen in genuine surprise and gratitude. Sometimes he’d bring home a random gift, and offer it with averted eyes and stiff posture. Sometimes Virgil would mutter something or other, and Janus would pick it up and turn it into a conversation.
Sometimes, he felt like he could see the real Janus behind the shiny facade.
And sometimes, the feelings he refused to call anything greater than a crush slipped into something deeper.
Or worse, they twisted into something sour and nasty.
Like tonight. Virgil was sitting on the porch, sketching the rays of the setting sun. Janus came out of the house, his newest girlfriend on his arm.
“I suppose if I must bid my beautiful girl goodnight,” Janus flirted, taking her other hand and kissing it chastely.
She giggled, and Virgil tried to curl into himself, to make himself smaller and unseen, sure that if he was noticed that his roiling feelings would be seen, pouring out of him in a toxic sludge.
Janus continued flirting with the girl, drawing out the goodbye. Virgil’s mouth tasted like ash, dry and bitter and he just wanted to get away .
It seemed like hours before she finally left, tripping lightly to her car and driving away. Janus let out a sigh as the lights disappeared.
He turned to Virgil, smirking. “Jealous?”
Virgil scoffed, standing from his tense position. He slipped past Janus into the house. “Of you? Never.”
But Janus followed him, and Virgil’s heart was twisting and squeezing and he just wanted away to spill these disgusting feelings onto a page or into his pillow or vent them somehow so they didn’t eat him away from the inside out.
“Of her?” Janus asked, his voice that gentler one, the raw one, that Virgil wanted to be the only one to hear.
Virgil froze. He couldn’t open his mouth. Couldn’t move. His only saving grace was that his back was the Janus.
The door closed with a click, and a gloved hand slid over Virgil’s shoulder. “Lacking a bit of touch in your daily life?” Janus purred.
The hand burned, despite the layers of fabric between them. Virgil jerked away, glaring. “Don’t.”
“What?” Janus asked, all faux innocence. “Anyone can need a partner.”
Virgil hissed, the sound more violent than even he had intended.
“Dear me, I had no idea you were so needy,” Janus teased. “And all defensive about it too.”
“Stop it!” Virgil snapped. “You don’t get to flirt with me. Don’t get to act like you care when you don’t .”
Now Janus seemed to be the one who was frozen in place.
“After all your threats and teasing about how I’m gay, you don’t get to play with my feelings!” Virgil said, far too loud for what he was admitting. His breath was coming in heaving gasps, his eyes prickling. He turned away again.
“I… didn’t know…” Janus breathed.
“Yeah, well now you do,” Virgil snapped. His voice was on the verge of breaking. “Just… just take your disgust and go. I won’t bother you with any of it.”
“My— Virgil, no, wait.”
Virgil stopped walking, his hand on the doorknob to his room. He shouldn’t have, he was going to tear up worse and he did not want Janus to see it.
“I’m… I’m gay too,” Janus said.
Virgil scoffed, turning the doorknob. “Oh, and I suppose all those girlfriends were just—“
“A cover!” Janus burst out. His voice sounded near as emotional as Virgil’s. “They’re a cover, you know we can’t be open about this!”
We .
Virgil turned, and Janus looked… the farthest thing from normal. He looked disheveled, desperate.
“Virgil, all this time! If I had known you had any feelings too, I— I…”
Had any feelings too.
“What… what are you saying?” Virgil gasped, heart threatening to spill out.
“I’m saying…” Janus tugged at his hair, shaking his head. “I’m saying I— would… May I? Flirt with you?”
Virgil felt frozen again. Pinned, under the stare that held feelings. Feelings like his. Janus liked him. Janus knew he was gay, and was also gay and liked him back. His mouth worked, open and closed but no words could escape. His hand reached out, grabbing Janus’s shirt, pulling him closer.
Janus’s breath fanned over Virgil’s face. Warm, short bursts.
Janus leaned his face slightly closer. “May I?” he breathed.
Virgil’s eyes dropped from Janus’s eyes to his lips, then back up. His heart hammered. He was going to burst into flames or explode or— or—
He nodded.
Janus closed the distance. Warm, soft lips pressed ever so lightly against Virgil’s. Delicate, afraid, hesitant.
Virgil pulled at Janus, pressing fervently into the kiss, pushing all his feelings, all those days and weeks and months that he held everything, everything in. Tears slipped from his eyes as he clung to Janus, cling to everything he’d been wanting but could never have. Only he was here, now, in Virgil’s hands. Pressed against his lips and kissing back , heat and passion flaring between them to a bonfire almost instantly.
Virgil gasped for breath when they finally parted, every inch of him trembling. “I want more than just flirting, Janus,” he managed to say.
Janus pulled him back in, sealing their mouths together again. “Done. Yes. Virgil, Virgil, my Virgil.” He spoke between kisses.
Virgil held tight to him, kissing his Janus. His thief. He’d stolen his heart, but now Virgil was getting it back and so, so much more.