somepoorsoul | (no subject)

The smell of brewing coffee draws Athos from bed earlier than he might have otherwise pulled himself away. He might not have been awake at all, save that sleep had come only fitfully the night before. The melancholy of his first few months in Darrow had lifted, but fears old and new still plague him from time to time, sending him to stare at his mother’s ring (he cannot think of it as his wife’s) or the pages of his wedding speech where line after line is cut through with pen, deemed unworthy. This morning, he drags himself out from under blankets as a capitulation to a wasted night more than an early welcome to the day, but at least he has one thing to look forward to.

Porthos makes excellent coffee.

When he descends the stairs, he wears not his usual clothes, but one of the sweaters that Porthos has purchased for him - another capitulation, this time to the chill in the air. Between that and his half-laced boots, he cuts a downright disheveled figure, at least by Athos standards. The lower apartment is quiet, and Athos finds the coffee swiftly enough, though as he takes it into the living room, he stills with the mug at his lips.

The room is already occupied.

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“If the two of you are entirely finished…” Athos had disappeared briefly up the stairs for his sword and pistol, but now he returns, looking more musketeer than modern man. Though he has seen the looks he gets when walking about fully armed, and generally limits himself to his rapier for politeness’ sake, he now makes no effort to hide his weaponry.

And he’s wearing the scent - though he will never admit it aloud.

“Why don't we get this cake business over with already?"

"I'm not having anything bite you down there," says Aramis, aiming a shot at Porthos over his trousers. He sprays his throat, too, before the man can protest, then goes to strap on the rest of his weapons.

"Indeed," he says, matching Athos' dour tones, "Let's get this dreadful cake business over with, shall we?" And then on to honorable acts of violence and gore - Aramis is all but bouncing on his feet.

"Only your teeth," Porthos' wicked reply comes with a devious smirk, leaning in for a kiss before Athos returns. Porthos finishes with his old hat put upon his head and though he might be wearing modern clothes, they're hidden under the outer layers of his musketeer self, a merging of the two worlds.

"It's not dreadful to be tasting cakes," he scowls. "They're the best part of the meal. You'll see."

Athos sends Aramis a cool, level look, but otherwise does not stoop to his mockery.

"If you are entirely finished," he repeats, and tucks his pistol away.