Athos still trembles as aftershocks dance through him, his eyes closed and cheek pressed to Porthos’ chest. He pulls a hand free of its bond so that he can lightly, almost thoughtlessly, run his fingers over Aramis’ hair, thumb brushing his temple. All but these two men forgotten, Athos lingers blissfully with the world out of focus for one moment, and then two, and then three, before reality begins to set in again.

It is a wondrous reality, though, if one that leaves him unsure how to proceed. Athos blinks a few times, his gaze flickering up at Porthos’ face, and then down at Aramis with a shaky, breathless smile.