Athos is infinitely grateful for their assurances – more grateful than he is ever likely to admit. He nods a little, and offers Porthos a reassuring half-smile, then pushes himself up, still half leaning over Porthos when he stills, caught staring for a moment as Aramis disrobes.

“I can swim just fine,” he deadpans, because for all his protests and fears, he does have his pride. And as though to prove it – to himself as much as anyone – he leans down to kiss Porthos roughly and thoroughly again, hands sliding under his shirt to run over his bare skin.