somepoorsoul | (no subject)

Though he has spent much of the last week imagining Aramis and Porthos’ return - in anticipation, and joy, and a bit of fear - now that he knows the moment draws near, he finds himself teeming with uncertainties. There are things he must say - now, before the opportunity slips through his fingers forever, and all he has left is the memory of those moments in the stables, the press of lips against his and hands blissfully burning his skin. Athos still does not trust himself, and perhaps he never will, but he trusts his friends, more than he has trusted anyone. And so, there are things he must say.

But first, he must welcome his dear friends home. Athos has not attempted to make a meal for them, knowing that no meager fest he could concoct would match Porthos’ skill in the kitchen. But he has procured a few bottles of fine wine, one of which sits already open and half drunk on the kitchen counter. The steadying of his nerves has taken one, and then two, and three glasses. Now, shamefully, he pours himself a fourth.

He has never been very good with words.

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"It is both," says Aramis, crawling next to Porthos to curl around him, occupying whatever space Athos is not and some of that, too, fingers carding through his mussed hair. "Be nice or I won't give you sweets," he tells Porthos, proving himself a liar in the next moment when he places a chocolate in his mouth. He retrieves one for Athos next, but this one he sets between his lips, neck stretched to put his mouth near Athos' own.

Athos looks at Aramis with faint bemusement, not because he does not understand, but because taking the chocolate from his very lips seems silly, overly romantic - and utterly tempting. It is the sort of thing better suited to fresh-faced young lovers, and isn’t Athos beyond that?

Or is he merely still afraid of embracing love fully, in all it’s ridiculousness?

In the end, Athos rolls his eyes, but pushes himself up to meet Aramis’ lips and take the chocolate. “You are absurd,” he says as the sweet melts on his tongue, his voice soft in a way that implies he doesn’t actually mind.

Porthos works the chocolate slowly over his tongue as he watches his beautiful men before him, smiling with genuine pride as they kiss right in front of him. He curls them both in, happy for the comfort and the joy he's indulging in, right now. "You hardly sound like you mind," Porthos teases fondly.

"Fed chocolates from his lover's lips," laughs Aramis, placing another chocolate in Porthos' mouth. "Such horror." He grins and hands Porthos the bag, mouth open expectantly. They'd made a habit of feeding each other these throughout their honeymoon, and Aramis has no mind to break from tradition now.

“I said nothing about horror,” Athos protests, laying his head back upon Porthos’ chest. He watches them with a soft expression as Aramis drops chocolates into Porthos’ mouth. “So this is how you spent your week away."

Porthos laughs heartily and warmly as he shares a glance with Aramis, popping a chocolate onto his lower lip and leaning in to give it a nudge with the tip of his tongue, kissing Aramis' chin afterwards as he strokes his fingers over Athos' back. "When we weren't fucking each other silly into dehydration, yeah," Porthos agrees, smirking for the crudeness he now feels free to share.

"I only fainted the once," Aramis points out, letting the chocolate melt on his tongue before he swallows it all in one go. "And you had me bent like one of your terrible yoga tangles. Never," he tells Athos, "Let this man get your legs any higher than a foot over your own head."

“I mentioned that you were both ridiculous, did I not?” For all his attempt at a blasé attitude, he cannot hide the renewed flush that creeps over his face. Hearing them speak so, while entirely new, has gained a new kind of power, now that he knows that he plays a part in their fantasies.

Porthos smirks as he watches the flush in Athos' cheeks, the turn of Aramis' tongue, and snuggles as he pulls them both in a little tighter against the breadth of his body. "And yet, you're here with us," he replies cheerfully, "So obviously you don't much mind being a little ridiculous with us."

He leans over to press a kiss to Athos' temple. "Dinner when I wake up?" he asks, of the both. "I'll go the store and get us something nice."

"I'm coming, too," Aramis yawns, setting the bag of chocolates aside to better mold himself to Porthos. After a week spent all but skin to skin with him, Aramis is not ready to let Porthos out of his sight. "And Athos. We must select the makings of a victory feast." Cheek pressed to Porthos' shoulder, Aramis gives Athos a sleepy wink. "I plan to expend a lot of energy in the next few days."

Not until Porthos says the words does Athos realize quite how tired he is. It’s a weariness that seeps into his bones, but leaves behind content. Athos makes an absent, approving sound, a smirk briefly curving at his lips as he curls towards Porthos and closes his eyes.

Perhaps he will rise to eat in a few hours. Or perhaps he will stay here forever.

Porthos grins as he watches the way that Athos relaxes, shooting Aramis a pleased grin as if to say that they've done it and look at them. "Go to sleep, the both of you," he whispers. "I'm here."