(no subject)

[somepoorsoul]

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.

Comments

[somepoorsoul]

“Your baker’s going to think we’ve come to rob him.” A smile twitches at Athos’ lips as he imagines them marching into the shop fully armed. “Oh, very well.” He won’t win against Aramis’ stubbornness or Porthos’ baleful looks - and worst of all, both men know it. So he will eat cake, and stand around feeling at loose ends, and pointedly remind Aramis that he cannot, in fact, purchase all the cakes, no matter how much he wishes.

“But I’ll be having that drink, too."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis doesn't dally, washing swiftly and reemerging in his trousers and a shirt, hair damp around his shoulders. He sits by Porthos' knees and hands him a jar of curl cream. "Are you convinced, then?" he asks Athos. "I suppose he told you we need you to negotiate price - well, that's true. Porthos is likely to buy all the cakes, otherwise."

[du_vallon]

Porthos could probably use a bit of a wash himself after the yoga, but he's not so bad that neither of them can bear to be around him. He takes the hair product and uncaps it to work some into his palm and then into Aramis' hair, grinning at Aramis and then Athos with a guileless shrug. "I can't really decide between five and Aramis told me there's such a thing as the groom's cake," he says excitedly, working the product to the depths of it. tipping his head forward to get to the back.

"I'll even purchase you two drinks. Sometimes, they've got champagne at the shop," he says with an excited grin. He peers up at Aramis and taps his knee. "Entertain him while I change, will you?"

[somepoorsoul]

Athos exhales with a long-suffering sigh, though he looks more fond than annoyed. Don’t involve me in this he insists in the face of absurdities great and small, always immediately before they drag him in – and he allows himself to be dragged.

For a moment, his heart betrays him, thoughts drifting to a different sort of ‘involvement,’ but he dismisses such imaginings before they can take root.

When Porthos departs, he regards Aramis with a different sort of question in mind. “What’s got him so keen on the weather?”

[afineseamstress]

Aramis affects a shrug. To let Porthos witness this particular weakness is one thing - he has already pledged to love and respect Aramis no matter what comes. Athos is as dear a friend as can be, but he is Aramis' comrade, and Aramis would not seem a poorer soldier in Athos' eyes. "There was some trouble with that storm the other day. All the signs were obscured in the drifts and the wind, and I got turned around. It will hardly be a problem today."

He stands and collects their coffee cups, taking them to the sink. "I expect you to be on my side today. All the food has been left in Porthos' purview, but if he is to choose the groom's cake, I get to choose the other."

[du_vallon]

Once Porthos has changed into a thick black woolen sweater and pair of jeans, he grasps a pair of gloves and sets them on the counter, heading back to the two of them where he can run his fingers through Aramis' hair one more time to tweak and curl and make sure it looks presentable, affixing his earring back into the hole as he settles on the armchair.

"I heard that," he says pointedly. "You can pick whatever you like, so long as I find the taste acceptable."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos reaches for his boots and tugs them on. “No. Keep me out of your cake debates. I will be there to ensure they do not cheat you with their spun sugar creations, nothing more."

[afineseamstress]

"Certainly not a vague description," Aramis tells Porthos, already planning to ply Athos with the champagne if need be. "Did I hear that we are going hunting straight after? Will we be able to walk, filled with all that cake?"

[du_vallon]

"We'll be warm and fed," Porthos argues, reaching for his doublet as he shakes a hand through his hair to try and settle the curls as best as he can, tugging his cloak to him. "I fear if we don't, we'll come back here and end up doing nothing more than sleeping the day away. Definitely acceptable, but I know you've both got energy to spend."

[somepoorsoul]

“Aramis, if you’re so concerned, eat less cake.” Athos pushes himself to his feet and goes to fetch his own jacket and cloak, draped on the hook by the door. Without meaning to, and against his better judgment, he has slowly come to occupy the downstairs apartment nearly as much as his own, and his things are drifting with him.

[afineseamstress]

"Impossible," Aramis grunts, selecting his old coat. It's far easier to hide his weapons among its voluminous depths, and he's made enough changes to his many belts and supply pouches that they fit nearly as well beneath as they ever did around and above. He hands Athos the silver dagger he's left on their entryway table, and Porthos an extra pair of blessed silver knuckles.

Going to plan his wedding feast, followed by a hunt of something evil with his favorite people in all the world. "Do all men have perfect days like this?" he wonders aloud.

[du_vallon]

Porthos smirks at Aramis, knowing that it's hardly a bad day for him, but it's definitely not the perfect day that Aramis seems convinced that it is. "I don't think most men dream of slaying vampires after they eat wedding cake and decide on little toppers," he points out, tucking away the knuckles and loading himself up with his weapons, cinching belts and grasping his bandanna, where he starts to work a complicated braid into the tail.

"Chou, there's a bit of a gift for you in the front hall," he advised, glancing to Athos. "There's one for you, too." It's the cologne he's just had finally blessed and finished, doused with holy water and priest's blessing. "There's two. If they're not to your scent's taste, I can exchange them."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos had thought the preparation for these hunts was elaborate when he first joined them, but with every one, they seem to have become more elaborate yet. Turning the knife over in his hands and tucking it away, he eyes Porthos skeptically, but shrugs, and goes to fetch the small packages waiting for them in the hall.

“This isn’t a real weapon,” he feels the need to inform Porthos, even as he offers Aramis one of the little bottles.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis takes his, a pleased smile playing about his mouth even before he understands what it is. "With holy water," he says, spraying his throat and wrists at once and, after another moment, tugging at them of his pants until he can spray his groin, too. "Pulsepoints at every corner, I'm afraid," he says with a grin to Athos, then goes to Porthos, bottle lifted to spray him as well. "Thank you, Porthos."

[du_vallon]

"And blessed by the local priest," he verifies, nodding to Athos. "I tried to get it to the scent I noticed you wear, but I think I might have lost some of it with the alcohol." He shakes his head at Aramis when he comes over to douse him, arching his brow. "Do you intend to pull down my trousers too?" he deadpans.

[somepoorsoul]

“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?"

[afineseamstress]

"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.

[du_vallon]

"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."

[somepoorsoul]

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.