#romantic anxceit

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Virgil goes on an adventure with his ex-boyfriend.

His very, very sedated ex-boyfriend.

Pairing: romantic anxceit

Word count: 3050

Warnings: reconciling with your ex, sedation/medical drugs

Notes: a commission for @creative-lampd-liberties!

thank you to @airiervessel for beta-reading!

—

Virgil did not sulk, no matter what Patton said.

At worst, he brooded, but really Virgil thought he was being completely reasonable in his distaste for the situation he found himself in.

Virgil was lucky enough – and he meant lucky only in the right light – to have stayed relatively close with his high school friends through the years after, enough that he’d been happy to move in with Patton when he’d graduated college and moved back to town.

Unfortunately, this meant he was still in the same friend group as Janus.

Most of the time, it didn’t bother him – or at least, he was capable of ignoring the aching scar of his first real broken heart most of the time as long as he didn’t think about it too hard and only ever hung around Janus with at least two additional people as a buffer between them. They were both coolly civil to each other, with only the occasional snip when one of them had a bad day (and wasn’t that a fresh twinge, that Virgil could still always tell, even five years later, when Janus was having a bad day and didn’t mean the defensive reflex of his sniping), and Virgil had learned to live with it.

So of course, the universe proceeded to conspire to get Virgil alone with Janus, because it just could not leave well enough alone.

Janus had taken an Uber to the hospital in the middle of the night – Remus, his roommate, was out of town, and it just so happened that so were Patton and Roman. Frantic calls had been made, but to no avail; it was noon the next day, and Janus was coming out of anesthetic from the emergency surgery to remove his gallbladder, and there was no one who could come get him from the hospital.

No one, that is, except Virgil.

Patton insisted that this, and the fact that Janus had to have someone stay with him for the next twenty four hours while the anesthetic wore off, was a good thing. Patton seemed to think that Virgil and Janus ought to still be good friends still, that they would “get along if they just gave each other a chance” and other such good-hearted nonsense born of misplaced hope.

Fat chance.

Virgil pulled into the parking lot with a scowl, climbing out of the car and making his way toward the pick up entrance with his hands stuffed in his pockets, not sulking. Remus was Janus’s emergency contact, and he’d been on the phone with the hospital on and off for the past couple of hours, making sure Janus would be ready to go when Virgil arrived.

And then Virgil would be taking Janus back to his own apartment, where he’d be playing nursemaid to his ex-boyfriend for the next twenty-four hours while he came down off of the anesthetic. Virgil also had no idea how Janus reacted to anesthetic, so he was going in completely blind.

He looked around the lobby – Janus and the nurse should be around here somewhere-

Virgil saw Janus before Janus saw him, but not by much. Virgil had a handful of seconds to take in a disheveled, noodle-necked Janus looking wide-eyed and gaping around the room like he was in a zoo and not a hospital lobby before Janus saw him.

And lit up like a fireworks show.

Virgil actually, mortifyingly, stumbled a bit. Janus began to frantically tap the nurse and point at Virgil as he made his way over, coming close enough just in time to hear the tail end of Janus’s breathless, giggly rant.

“-Myboyfriend,Kaylie, Kaylie, Kaylie, that’s my boyfriend Virgil, isn’t he handsome and pretty and perfect and-”

“I take it you’re Virgil Caballero?”

“I, uh- yeah,” croaked Virgil, feeling flushed with embarrassment and off-kilter and not a bit nauseous. Janus was still beaming, a completely uncharacteristic expression, only now he was reaching for Virgil with wiggly grabby hands and giggling sweetly. The scar in Virgil’s heart throbbed.

“Um- Hey, Janus,” he said nervously. He awkwardly grabbed Janus’s hand for a handshake like weirdo, only for Janus to pull hard with all the strength in his sedated body and burrow his head into Virgil’s sternum with his arms around Virgil’s waist and hum contentedly, nuzzling.

Virgil’s face felt like he’d been standing in front of an open fire and his chest was squirming with nerves and a very peculiar kind of confused heartache that he thought he’d given up years ago.

Trust Janus to be confusing, even five years later.

“We gotta go to the car, Janus,” said Virgil, trying to peel him off.

“Carry me!” said Janus cheerfully, looking up at Virgil with big, pleading eyes, and any minuscule resistance Virgil might have had crumbled like a sandcastle in the tide.

“Sure,” he said quietly.

Janus hadn’t grown much since high school, but the same could not be said for Virgil, so looping Janus’s bag over his shoulder and carefully scooping him into his arms was easier than it had been even when they were eighteen and hopelessly enamored of each other and it had been Janus’s favorite way of getting around. Virgil was careful not to jostle him too much, anxious of the incision, but Janus seemed perfectly comfortable, nuzzling into Virgil’s shoulder with a happy sigh.

You’re gonna kill me, Jay, Virgil thought helplessly.

Virgil carefully set him in the passenger seat, squeezing his eyes shut when Janus’s tiny, unhappy whine sent a lance of pain through his chest. Swallowing hard, he leaned across to buckle Janus into the seat.

Janus’s soft hand slipped up the side of Virgil’s neck, playful and tender, cupping his jaw and turning his head and Virgil didn’t have time to process the action before their mouths met softly and all thought flew out of his head like a bird out a window.

It was exactly the same – it was so utterly, completely different. Their lips fit together differently, the shape of their mouths and faces sharpened and filled out with age, but the way Virgil wanted to wrap Janus in his arms and kiss him through a dozen sunrises hadn’t changed at all, the way his heart immediately wanted to climb out of his chest and set itself throbbing in Janus’s palms to do whatever he wanted with was as familiar as a worn, comfortable sweater.

Janus’s other hand tangled in Virgil’s hair, humming sweetly into Virgil’s mouth, and the sound jolted Virgil out of the bliss like an electric shock, making him jerk back with a gasp.

Janus pouted, big warm eyes and bronze-brown skin making him look like an angel as he whined and tugged on Virgil’s hoodie.

Or a tempting demon, Virgil thought a little hysterically.

“I- uh,” Virgil choked, voice cracking as he pulled Janus’s hands off of him, “I shouldn’t- Jay, I shouldn’t kiss you right now. You’re not- you’re not in your right mind, you’re on anesthetic right now, remember?”

Janus’s pout deepened, but he sighed long-sufferingly and nodded.

“Kisses after?” he said, visibly hopeful.

“I…”

Virgilhurt, a sharp, undeniable ache, but the past ten minutes had finally put to rest something he’d been agonizing over for half a decade.

He was just as much of a whipped sap for Janus as he’d been at eighteen.

“Yeah, sure,” he said quietly, quickly pulling Janus’s hands off of him and clamoring to his feet to shut the door behind him and bury his face in his hands.

It was gonna be a long twenty-four hours.

—

Janus was rambly and delighted with everything from the scenery to the fabric of the seats on the way to Virgil’s house, but more than anything, he was delighted with Virgil.

Virgil’s hair, Virgil’s eyes, Virgil’s clothes and skin and voice and expressions and “good heart” and “brave soul” and by the time they pulled into the parking lot of Virgil’s apartment Virgil knew he was well and truly fucked.

Janus’s joy was irresistibly magnetic. He asked to be carried into the house again and Virgil complied; he asked for a hug as Virgil set him on the couch and Virgil knelt on the floor and wrapped him carefully in his arms to hold him close, feeling the warmth and softness of him.

Virgil had tipped straight over a cliff into a pit of utter infatuation and resurrected feelings that had probably never been properly dead at all, and by hour two he’d pretty much resigned himself to his fate.

True to his word, he didn’t let Janus kiss him again, but other things were harder to deny him. Laced fingers, gold-on-brown, letting Janus curl up on the couch with his head in Virgil’s lap, stroking his face with a single finger and hearing him sigh so happily, like Virgil cherishing him was bliss.

Virgil didn’t know what had gotten scrambled in Janus’s brain that he thought they were still together, that he was acting like this – but if all Virgil was going to get was these last few hours until the anesthetic fully wore off, then he wasn’t going to look an incredibly bittersweet gift horse in the mouth.

Janus dozed off eventually, and Virgil took the opportunity to get up and make dinner. Plain food, easy on his stomach – Janus had always had stomach problems, and the idea that if anyone had taken him seriously all these years he might not have had to get an entire organ removed was a little annoying. But Virgil knew what Janus liked, and what Janus liked but shouldn’t have. The tightly locked chest in which Virgil had been keeping all his thoughts and feelings and memorized details of Janus, Janus, Janus for five long years had basically had an ax taken to it at this point, overflowing and spilling into every corner of his mind in search of empty space to fill with his soft, fond feelings.

Infuriating, is what it was.

When he finally came back with two bowls of cooling soup, he had every intention of setting it on the coffee table and gently waking Janus to eat.

Unfortunately Janus was already awake.

Awake, curled in a miserable ball and weeping in his silent, stoic way, completely inaudible from the kitchen, the sight making Virgil’s stomach land at his feet like a bowling ball of lead.

“Hey,hey, Jay, baby, what’s wrong?” he rushed out, setting down the soup and kneeling beside him.

“You don’t have to do that,” choked Janus.

“… Make you soup?” said Virgil, cupping his cheek and wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

“You’re not my boyfriend,” said Janus, leaning away.

Tensing, Virgil’s hand froze in the air, and then fell.

“… No, I’m not.”

Janus’s sob redoubled, and hot, sparking frustration was swirling with a rushing tide of hurt,making Virgil want to groan and tear his hair out.

“Jay,” he said, trying hard not to grit his teeth, “I don’t understand why you’re upset. You broke up with me.”

“It’s not like I wanted to!” Janus wailed.

“Wh- what does that even mean- Jay, c’mon, sweetheart, don’t cry-”

“I had to so you weren’t just- stuck in your hometown forever, giving up your fancy scholarship for a boy,”Janus scoffed wetly. He leaned into Virgil’s hands like a miserable, needy cat, preening under the attention. Virgil’s heart felt frozen in astonishment even as that frustration kept catching in his chest like fire.

“You- we could have figured something out, you shouldn’t have just- made that call for me, Jay.”

“You hate long distance,”

Virgil blinked.

“… I have pretty much no opinions about long distance relationships,” said Virgil incredulously, “Where- where did you even get that idea?”

“You said so, at Sabina Drake’s house party,” sniffed Janus, “You said you just didn’t get how one could ever work.”

Virgil blinked at him in confusion.

The frustration twisted hard, inside-out like a sock until Virgil was just shaking his head, shoulders trembling with gobsmacked, frustrated laughter.

“So what you’re telling me,” said Virgil, “Is that you broke up with me for what you thought was my own good, over a comment I made about long-distance relationships when we were fourteen?”

Janus just kept looking at him with that miserable, drowned-kitten look.

“You’re an idiot,” said Virgil softly, stroking his cheek, “We’re gonna eat some soup, and you’re gonna go to bed, and I am going to yell at you so loud in the morning when you’re not drugged up and precious and making me want to cuddle the shit out of you. You asshole.”

“Huh?”

“Soup,” said Virgil, giving in to the impulse to kiss him on the cheek, “We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? Promise.”

At that, Janus ignored the offered soup in favor of gaping up at Virgil with huge, starstruck eyes and softly parted lips. Virgil was dying.

Happily dying.

—

Virgil let Janus take his bed, because he was a sucker, but his couch was old and worn comfortable, so it wasn’t that bad. Stretching as he sat up, he anxiously eyed his bedroom door, wondering if Janus was awake, if he was sobered up, if he remembered all they’d talked about, if he’d meant everything he said, if he was going to go back to the cold, stiff stranger he’d been for the past five years or if Virgil was finally going to have him back-

Virgil scrubbed his face hard, bracing himself.

Only one way to find out.

“Jay?” he called, knocking on the door.

A sharp swear, and the sound of something knocking against the bed frame.

“Can I come in?”

A strained silence.

“I suppose,” said Janus stiffly.

Virgil pushed open the door, to find a sleep-disheveled, fidgeting Janus standing in pajamas and socks in the middle of Virgil’s room – his feet always did get cold – looking mortified and awkward.

“… Morning,” said Virgil, stepping cautiously into the room.

“Good morning,” said Janus, his voice cracking audibly halfway through and his eyes fixed firmly on the wall.

Anxiety and hope swirled in Virgil’s gut. He took another careful handful of steps forward, and Janus didn’t move away, which he was counting as a good sign.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, gnawing his lip.

“Wh-? I- fine,” stammered Janus, glancing at Virgil for a moment only for his face to contort and look away again, “Did- did you?”

Janus… Janus was flustered, Virgil realized, embarrassed that he’d been so vulnerable the day before. Janus had been openly affectionate, some people might have even called it clingy, dramatic in his affection when they’d been together, but even then he’d always gotten like this after any real emotion got thrown around.

Usually when they were alone, because those moments had always been just for Virgil.

The corners of Virgil’s mouth were twitching involuntarily, aching to twist into a proper smile. He finally came close enough to touch, steeling himself for a moment before reaching for Janus’s hand, squeezing it tenderly in his own.

“Hnrgk,” choked Janus.

Virgil’s smile widened. Tugging them closer, face to face, it became a grin, as Janus looked at him with a wide-eyed flustered expression.

“You feeling okay, Jay?” he said, smirking a bit.

Janus’s face screwed up in indignation, smacking Virgil lightly on the arm.

“You-! You are picking on me, you complete asshole!”

“Eh, maybe a bit,” said Virgil.

Janus moved to smack him again and Virgil caught it, sliding fingers down Janus’s wrist until he was holding both Janus’s hands in his. He lifted one, pressing it to his cheek and absolutely beaming when Janus squeaked in response.

“Maybe more than a bit,” he admitted, “Still want me to kiss you?”

“Virgil,”whined Janus.

“C’mon, Jay,” Virgil murmured, “It’s just me.”

Janus’s face softened like sunrise into twilight, twisting his hands out of Virgil’s grip to reach up and cup his face.

“There is not, and never has been,” said Janus wetly, “Anything just about you.”

If there was one thing Virgil could say about Sober Janus’s kissing as opposed to Drugged Up Janus, it was that Sober Janus somehow managed to have even more enthusiasm – maybe because he actually remembered that the two of them hadn’t been doing all that much kissing for the past half a decade.

They were so close Virgil could feel Janus’s knees trembling against his, so he gathered him close and sank to the floor, where Janus crawled straight into his lap like he belonged there.

They broke apart with twin breathless gasps, Janus still cupping his jaw. They pressed their foreheads together, sharing their breath, and Virgil ran his hands up and down Janus’s back in soothing, grounding strokes.

“I missed you,” Janus whispered.

“Shouldn’t have made me leave then, dumbass,” Virgil murmured back.

“Rest assured - I will not be making the same self-sacrificing mistake twice,” said Janus, pecking Virgil’s face in between the words.

“How about just talking to me next time?”

“Not my strong suit.”

“I mean it, Jay,” said Virgil, “I- I wanna try again, I do, but you can’t just- make calls for both of us like that again, okay?”

“I won’t,” said Janus softly, “I’m not going to do anything that might let you escape my clutches ever again, you are stuck with me for life,Caballero-”

“Big promise, Bellmont.”

“It’s a threat, is what it is.”

“Ooh, I’m very scared,” teased Virgil, reaching up to play with a lock of Janus’s hair and smirking when he leaned into it.

“You should be,” said Janus mulishly, looking every bit a windswept kitten in his rumpled pajamas and fuzzy socks.

“Shaking in my boots,” said Virgil fondly, drawing a line with his knuckle down Janus’s cheeks, smile widening as he felt the skin warm, “Get back in bed, oh mighty gallbladder-less one.”

“Breakfast?”

“I’ll bring it to you.”

“But then you have to go,” whined Janus.

“You’re a spoiled brat,” muttered Virgil, “Fine. We’ll make breakfast together.”

And when Patton came home to a kitchen covered in syrup, egg, and flour, Virgil and Janus feeding each other sticky forkfuls of pancake, and just crossed his arms with a smug smile, all Virgil could do was stick his tongue out at him.

—

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