Chapter Text

Triangulation ; 

or, 

Janus loves his country

*** 

“Darby, sir, but Janus they call me,” said the old seaman, “on account of a surgeon we shipped in the Sophie, a learned bloke, saying I saw both ways like some old Roman cut-up by that name; and there I would be still, but my girl in the city losing her mum, and taking sick, and her with three, four mouths to feed.”* 

Janus certainly did not need to volunteer so much information -- and it was clear that he did so because, having seen that at least one of them was both a Navy man and educated besides, he assumed they would catch his meaning: Janus, after the god of doorways, who would still be on the ship with his fellows if not for his woman in England. 

Behind Janus’s back, Tharkay and Laurence glanced at one another sidelong. 

Laurence’s mouth quirked. Which of us piqued his interest, do you think? 

Tharkay gave a slow blink. You, obviously. 

Laurence raised a quizzical brow. Me? 

Tharkay smirked and let his gaze travel all over Laurence’s person, slow as honey, not quite lecherous: from the top of his gleaming hair to the Cupid’s bow of his lips -- lingering on his broad shoulders and muscled chest, his capable hands and well-formed thighs. You cannot be serious; just look at you, William Laurence. 

And then -- his breath caught -- for Laurence’s eyes were traveling over his face, wide and earnest; playful, yes, but openly hungry nonetheless -- and then Laurence tilted his head: look at yourself, Captain Tharkay. 

Well, then. Nice to know that someone could still give as good as he got. 

Tharkay rolled his eyes. We’ll see. 

And then Janus was turning around to address them once more, and as he spoke he looked from Tharkay to Laurence and back like a man who had just been seated at a feast of untold delights and could not decide which to -- ahh, it was now very clear in which direction his thoughts lay -- and frankly, Tharkay thought with a wry smile, who could blame him?  Tharkay felt rather than saw the flush rise in Laurence’s face, and elbowed him without looking: call it a draw.

***