afineseamstress | (no subject)

Aramis is no longer in the mood to celebrate Halloween. After the trials of the strange, gray nightmare world he and those he loves dearest had found themselves in, after watching the people he loves hurt again and again, it's not for the purpose of celebration that Aramis outfits himself into costume.

The motorcycle is newly purchased, the license newer still, and Aramis swings a leg over it, leathers creaking as he settles. He rides quickly across town to where Porthos will be waiting for him, and as the wind whips through his hair, he lets Aramis fall away.

He doesn't have to be that man for a few hours. He doesn't have to wonder if the city that has given him so much will try to hurt him again, hurt Athos or Porthos, or their future family. He doesn't have to pretend that he's been sleeping when he has not, or that everything is alright when it certainly isn't. Just for an evening, he doesn't have to be himself, worrying incessantly about the things he can't control.

Pulling up in front of the shelter, he lets the motorcycle engine roar once before he sets the engine to idle. He breathes deep, exhaling with an almost bored sound as he waits for his charge.

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Porthos casts a dark look on Aramis. "There are dark parts of me. The ones that enjoy the fight. The part that liked thieving and the Court and the wickedness. What if that had been pulled out of me and set against you? Aramis, I'm serious. I'm scared of the notion."

"It would not happen," says Aramis with perfect certainty. "You could scarcely even spank me more than twice." Aramis sits next to Porthos on the bed. "I will never fear you, Porthos. Even your dark parts, I know too well."

Porthos still isn't sure he believes that the way Aramis does, but it's not like he has much of a choice. He curls up with Aramis and gives him a tender look as he scoots his way to the head of the bed, opening his arms to collect Aramis in them post-haste. "C'mere," he coaxes. "I'm cold without you."

"Do not let me hurt you," says Aramis, for he is still conscious of his weight against Porthos' bruises. The invitation of his arms, however, is too much to resist, and Aramis settles himself gently between them, pulling the blankets up and over them after.

"I hate the two days that you were alone in there," he murmurs.

Porthos snuggles in the moment Aramis is close enough, eager as he wraps him up in his arms, drifting fingers through Aramis' hair. "I wasn't alone," he reminds him gently. "I was with Oliver and Felicity, his sister," he reminds Aramis. "Even before the attack, I had friends with me. First thing I did, though, was run for you and Athos."