There are those who believe Athos’ heart made of stone; it’s a reputation he has not bothered to contradict, though he knows Aramis and Porthos saw past his veil of stoicism long ago. In that sense, he has no reason to hide his feelings from the man before him. But habits are difficult to break.

Athos closes his eyes in a long blink, moved by the words and the awe with which Aramis now regards him. He wonders if he will ever get another chance to act; Aramis and Porthos will be married soon, and both men have quite determinedly give up other lovers. Despite the offer made to him, Athos doesn’t know what, exactly, they wish from him in the circumstances, and half expects (with part relief, part disappointment) that their vows will mute any romantic interest they have towards him – assuming his rejection has not already done so.

But the look in Aramis’ eyes requires response, and with sudden clarity, Athos determines that he wishes to give it, before the opportunity is snatched away. With a hard swallow, he steps closer, and though he does not press his lips to Aramis’, they are close enough that it would be an easy thing to do.

“I do not know what has come over me,” he confesses softly, and he could be talking about the past few minutes, or the past few months.