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Nov. 6th, 2014 02:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
afineseamstressIt is a peaceful scene Aramis returns to in late afternoon, his arms filled with sickbed provisions - soups not even he can destroy, more pain reducing medicines, a pillow for Porthos' foot. He places his items on the table and smiles at Porthos and Athos, curled together on the chaise in much the same position Athos had discovered he and Porthos in some weeks before. Unlike the observer of that day, Aramis' heart is warmed by their proximity, and he comes forward, brushing a kiss to the top of Porthos' head before he pulls the blankets more evenly over them both, touching his fingertips briefly to Athos' hair as he straightens.
They've made a small mess of things, but it's no more than Aramis expects between Porthos' endless bored fidgeting and the cat's enthusiastic efforts to help him lay waste to the apartment. Aramis quietly collects the sandwich plates, wiping crumbs from the table before he reaches for Athos' ubiquitous wine glass.
And finds two.
Aramis' eyes pass up and over both their forms to settle on Porthos' lips, open in his slumber and bearing a distinct stain of wine. It has not been sipped or tasted, it has been guzzled in Porthos' customary form, against Aramis' concern and clear instruction.
Aramis stands abruptly, collecting the bottle as he goes and striding immediately to the sink, where he upends the bottle until it is empty and throws it with his usual excellent aim into the garbage bin. Satisfied by the rattle, he goes to the pantry and collects another, dumping its contents down the sink with its fellow, and reaches for a third.
They've made a small mess of things, but it's no more than Aramis expects between Porthos' endless bored fidgeting and the cat's enthusiastic efforts to help him lay waste to the apartment. Aramis quietly collects the sandwich plates, wiping crumbs from the table before he reaches for Athos' ubiquitous wine glass.
And finds two.
Aramis' eyes pass up and over both their forms to settle on Porthos' lips, open in his slumber and bearing a distinct stain of wine. It has not been sipped or tasted, it has been guzzled in Porthos' customary form, against Aramis' concern and clear instruction.
Aramis stands abruptly, collecting the bottle as he goes and striding immediately to the sink, where he upends the bottle until it is empty and throws it with his usual excellent aim into the garbage bin. Satisfied by the rattle, he goes to the pantry and collects another, dumping its contents down the sink with its fellow, and reaches for a third.
