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[afineseamstress]

It's an old nightmare, and if the reversal of roles is new, Aramis has no knowledge of it. In her dreams her belly swells, her parents rage, but in the end, Aramis feels happiness bloom within her, and in time, she sees it in the features of her husband to be. But the dream turns as it always does, from hope and to despair. She reaches for him with hands only freshly washed of blood, but Étienne still turns from her.

It's an old dream, an awful dream, but bearable for the long years of its endurance. Aramis believes that, right until Étienne turns for one last look, and his face becomes Porthos'.

Aramis wakes with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed with tears still streaming down her face. With a soft curse, she lifts her hands and wipes them away, crawling as carefully as she can out of bed and towards the kitchen.

Comments

[du_vallon]

He's utterly mute as she whispers to him and moves him, unable to do anything but allow it, feeling absolutely and utterly weak for him (her, any version) and when he finally comes back to himself, he musters up the energy to form a soft kiss that lands on Aramis' throat, letting out a sound that's practically torn from his throat in need.

He pulls away with a ragged gasp, thinking that he's done the opposite of his intention. He's wide awake, now, unable to want to sleep. "Good?" he mumbles, needing to verify that much and hear it.

[afineseamstress]

"Very," Aramis promises him, stroking her thumb along his dimpled cheek. She shifts, but doesn't lift off of him just yet, still enjoying the idea of him filling her up. "Are you all right, cariño?" she asks, fond, "You look a wreck. A very handsome wreck, mind," Aramis adds with a smile, "But a wreck all the same."

[du_vallon]

Eyes half-lidded, he pulls his attention to Aramis with a lazy, but doting smile. He doesn't know how to even describe it because he can't say that it's been so long, and he can't call attention to the fact they don't do this often. Instead, he lifts his head to brush slow kisses to her breasts before collapsing back on the bed. "You've wrecked me," he confesses, stretching his arms out over his head.

"Woke me up, too," he confesses with a grin. "How on earth are we gonna manage to do that when we have kids?"

[afineseamstress]

"Quickly and quietly," Aramis tells him, finally sliding off his body to curl up alongside him. "Fortunately we are both very good and should have no trouble hurrying things along. Apart from that?"

Aramis grins and drags her nose along his shoulder. "Uncle Athos will have to watch them."

[du_vallon]

Porthos makes a sad little noise when Aramis rolls off of him, staring at her with baleful eyes, though he quickly makes up for the loss of warmth by wrapping his arms snugly around her waist and dragging the blankets tight around the both of them.

"Uncle Athos," he laughs warmly. "Do we really trust him with children? He might use wine to put them to sleep."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis laughs, too, curling her body even closer to Porthos' warmth. "It is no different than we'd have done at home to cleanse the water. I trust Athos with my life - I will certainly trust him with my childrens'. Besides."

Aramis lifts her chin, mouthing idly at Porthos' ear. "They would be good for him. D'Artagnan brought him forward in leaps and bounds, just think what an actual child might do."

[du_vallon]

"What if it makes him want his own?" Porthos mumbles distractedly, unable to do much clear thinking with the way that Aramis is working at his ear. He misses the scrape of a beard, but at the same time, the smoothness is an intoxicating change that he's not sure he'll get used to.