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[afineseamstress]

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.

Comments

[du_vallon]

"Nothing's broken, though," Porthos says, a touch stubborn about the fact that he's managed to keep himself this side of healthy, just barely. "I mean, it's still bad," he concedes, "but it could be a lot worse." He gives Aramis a worried look, running his thumb over the worry lines. "I don't like when these come out."

[afineseamstress]

"Bone bruises are almost as painful as cracked," Aramis tells him, catching Porthos' hand to hold it. "They will slow you down for some time yet, regardless." He kisses Porthos' fingertips. "Expect this furrow between my brows to remain for the duration."

[du_vallon]

"I don't like it," Porthos replies gravely, giving Aramis his full attention as he stares at him fondly, kissing his cheek as he gives a look to the towels as rumpled as they are, clearly hiding something that Aramis doesn't want him to see. "Aramis," he growls.

[afineseamstress]

"Do not twist," Aramis bites back, attempting to move Porthos back into position in the water. "You will strain and exacerbate your ribs, and besides." Aramis draws a breath. "You promised to be at my command for once."

[du_vallon]

Porthos sighs and relents, allowing himself to sink back into the tub. "Fine," he allows, but there's a firm glare given to Aramis. "But I want you to know that this is supposed to be our time in the hotel. You shouldn't need to arm yourself for that."

[afineseamstress]

"No, I should not," Aramis agrees, shifting in the water until Porthos lies back against him. "Nor should I have to wonder where we will be when we wake up tomorrow, or what will be waiting for us there, but I do. Of course I do."

The sponge has sunk into the water, and Aramis glares at it. "You are injured, and I won't risk anything else happening without at least being armed."

[du_vallon]

"We're going to be right here in our lovely hotel room that I paid for because we wanted to get away from the apartment. We're going to be ourselves and we're going to be protected." He closes his eyes halfway, giving Aramis a fond look. "I don't mind you going over the top with care, though," he admits. "Makes me feel special and wanted."

[afineseamstress]

Of course they will be protected, Aramis thinks, glancing sideways at the little mound his gun makes in the towels. This one fires eight entire rounds before it needs to be reloaded - surely that will be enough.

"I will always take care of you," he says, bringing the sponge over Porthos' skin again. He kisses the water droplets left in its wake. If it takes Porthos again, Aramis means to be so close that it must take him too.

[du_vallon]

"I know," Porthos replies quietly, because even in Paris, Aramis had made sure to always keep him safe and sound. There's no one who cares for Porthos like Aramis and sometimes, he even thinks Aramis does a better job than Porthos himself. "Only, you know I like to take care of you in turn and I can tell you're stressed, chou."

[afineseamstress]

"There is nothing that can be done for that," says Aramis. He drops a kiss to Porthos' temple. What he fears most, no one can control save for whatever force rules over the city, dragging them from peace and into hell itself, seemingly on a whim.

"Just holding you brings me as much peace as can be had."

[du_vallon]

"It's usually the other way around, but I half feel like I'm crushing you," Porthos confesses, feeling a touch heavy and guilty about leaning all of his weight back on Aramis like this. "Are you sure I'm not hurting you?" he asks, despite his body being the one with bruises to heal.

[afineseamstress]

"It is your seated weight," Aramis assures him, pulling Porthos as close as he can without squeezing him, "And the water takes even more of it." He brushes a kiss to Porthos' shoulder. "I'm not in pain."

He rests his chin against the spot his lips have traced. "Are you warm enough?"

[du_vallon]

"You always keep me good and toasty," Porthos promises with a fond smile, staring adoringly at Aramis as he tries to crane his neck around to look at him, finding the positions a problem for that. He makes a face when he realizes that he can't exactly get comfortable and makes a noise as he sits forward. "I want to see you, though. Lay in bed on cushy pillows and kiss you."

[afineseamstress]

"Time spent at my side has not made you any more patient," Aramis tells him fondly. He pushes Porthos' hips until he's slid forward enough for Aramis to step out of the tub. He pulls a towel around his waist, then reaches for Porthos' arm. "Slowly," he says, his face a mask of exertion and concentration as he helps Porthos to rise from the water.

[du_vallon]

"How could I ever be patient when you're as handsome as you are?" Porthos demands, because it's like putting meat in front of a wolf and expecting it not to pounce. "I'm making up for years and years of lost time," is his innocent protest as he slowly, carefully steps out of the tub. "All those times you paraded shirtless before me. Your too-tight trousers. Catching you in my arms when you were half-drunk or hanging from the eaves of homes."

[afineseamstress]

"I did not know I wooed you whilst hanging from parapets," says Aramis with a small smile. When Porthos is upright, he wraps a soft towel around his waist, passing another one through his curls before he settles it around Porthos' shoulders and pulls it snug.

"Pajamas or nude?" he asks, using his grip on Porthos' towel to pull him in for a kiss.

[du_vallon]

"Pajamas," Porthos admits, because even though he aches, he thinks he'll be far too tempted in the nudge for another round and his aching and sore body likely can't take it. He lets out a happy cry for the hand in his hair, drifting into Aramis' space to share in that kiss. "It's not so much the parapets as it was you in my arms after. I may have groped my fair share of your muscles," he confesses.

[afineseamstress]

Porthos must be feeling poorly if he wants to wear pajamas, and Aramis handles him with care, holding him gently until the kiss is done. "Then I did not imagine your lingering hand on my arse after the window in Rambouillet?" he asks, leading Porthos into the bedroom to sit on the bed while he gathers his clothes.

"Arms up," he says when he has found his shirt.

[du_vallon]

"No, nor in Rouen or Vicomte," is Porthos' smug reply, lifting up his arms slowly and staring at the mottled bruise on the arm that's right beside his face. He knows he'll heal, but this is all at the hands of someone he'd thought to be a friend. That's the hard part to get used to.

[afineseamstress]

Following Porthos' line of vision, Aramis is swift to cover up the bruise with the shirt, pulling it down over Porthos until he is covered. "It wasn't him," he says, even if he himself does not wish to see Oliver ever again. He holds the legs of Porthos' pajama pants open for his legs. "Your real friend would not do that to you."

[du_vallon]

"It was his worst self," Porthos replies quietly, stepping into the trousers. "Aramis, it's not that I'm thinking about. What I can't stop thinking about is what if an evil, dark version of me had been out there and had done this to you or Athos. I never would've been able to live with myself," he admits.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis does not mean to snort, but it comes out of him all the same. "No such version of you exists," he tells Porthos. "You could not have had a more cruel childhood, yet you pulled yourself from the darkness to become an honorable man."

[du_vallon]

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."

[afineseamstress]

"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."

[du_vallon]

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."