Their bags in the hallway beside them, Porthos had insisted that they not be allowed to enter the flat again until he's got Aramis in his arms, properly. Of course, that had been before he'd spent a good few minutes pinning Aramis to the wall, eagerly convincing him of that. "The sooner we're inside, the less chafing my poor trousers will need to endure," he murmurs fondly, crouching over to sweep Aramis into his arms, using his foot to kick open the door and stumble his way inside, laughing all the way.

His laugh dies off, but his smile stays on his face when he sights Athos in the kitchen. He sets Aramis down on the ground, only leaving to grab their bags before he can adjust himself and wander back into the room.

"Athos," he greets warmly, sighting the wine next. "I hope at least one of those bottles is for us."