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[somepoorsoul]

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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[somepoorsoul]

Growing unfocused from the building pleasure, Athos leans back into Porthos’ hold, even as his hips jerk forward, betraying his greed for more. Everything is still so new, and he can only let himself be swept up in it all. He rests his head back against Porthos’ shoulder and tips his face against his neck, breathing in the scent of him, and then looking across at Aramis with an unsteady, breathless smile, carried by the tide. They have so many firsts ahead of them, and it’s as though his heart is full with every single one.

[du_vallon]

Porthos has never wanted to gag Aramis mainly because he's selfish and grows delighted with every passing little sound he makes. He can't imagine not hearing them, but he supposes it could render him eager for more in other ways. Now, though, he tangles his free hand in Athos' hair, leaning forward to press them together and kiss Aramis from over Athos' shoulder, parting his lips to deepen it as he tries to coax them forward, knowing that with nothing more than the friction of their bodies, he won't need more than a sharp tug when they're done to come, too.

And there's something amazing and powerful to the idea that they might come, all at once, three hearts synced in one beat.

[afineseamstress]

It's a small smile, but that soft, undone look in Athos' blue eyes remains printed on the backs of Aramis' lids when Porthos kisses him, and Aramis groans, licking deeper into Porthos' mouth as he bends forward, tightening the tangle of their bodies on the sheets. "You are both so much," he pants when he must pull away to breathe, "So much." There are more intimate ways to bind them all together, but this is the one that Aramis will cherish, their first breathless tumble of seeking hands and mouths and hot, slick skin. Smiling back, Aramis buries his face in the crook of Athos' shoulder, keening openly with the need to come.

[somepoorsoul]

Oh, but Athos wants to hold off his moment of release, wants to stay in this beautiful, desperate moment of sweat, and skin, flesh, and love. It’s as though their entire acquaintance has been rising to now, and he, too, will remember it forever. “Yes,” he whispers, for they are so much, too much, and then, for all he tries to hold back, he is spilling into Porthos’ hand.

[du_vallon]

Porthos bows his forehead down against Athos' shoulder, shuddering as he moans, coming and making a mess of Athos and their sheets. He's going to have to buy a whole lot of sheets, Porthos feels. "Aramis," he breathes out and moans. "Your turn. Aramis, please," he begs.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis needs no coaxing, not when Porthos' grip goes slippery with Athos' release, when Athos' breaths are desperate huffs against his hair, drowned only by Porthos' rumbling pleasure. Aramis opens his mouth against Athos' shoulder and lets his orgasm shake him loose, leaving him stunned and clutching at them both.

[somepoorsoul]

Athos trembles between them, clinging to Aramis’ shoulders, feeling the hot press of Porthos behind him, his arms tightly encircling him. Their chests rise and fall together, their hearts beat as one rapid staccato, and he doesn’t care that they are already growing sticky. He cannot think of anywhere he would rather be than pressed between the two of them.

“Oh…” he stutters, unable to manage anything more.

[du_vallon]

Normally, Aramis would go find cloths and water to clean them up, but Porthos tightens his hold on the both of them, stubbornly trying to avoid that because he doesn't want anyone to leave this perfect, warm, longed-for embrace. "You know," he rumbles, voice low and filled with joyful content, "I don't think this is what Paris had in mind when they called us Inseparable, but I can't find it in me to mind."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis drifts, mouthing loosely at Athos' skin until he feels as much hears Porthos' deep murmur of contentment. "We soon will be," he says for the tightening of their embrace, "If you do not let me see to our mess."

He makes no move to escape it, though, carding his fingers through Athos' hair while their breaths slowly begin to even. "We are now," he says, "For good. No more uncertainties between us."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos tips his head into the touch of Aramis’ hand in his hair, doing a rather good impression of his feline once-namesake as he chases the gentle feeling of those fingers against his scalp. His eyes are still half-closed, and though he know they will need to soon, he makes no move to separate from them. Once they move away, the moment might still evaporate.

“You have been so patient with me,” he murmurs in a voice that’s low and rough. “Always so patient."

[du_vallon]

Porthos presses his temple to Athos' hair, reaching his hand around to stroke through Aramis' hair slowly, staring fondly at him and hoping that they'll be able to talk about the future, in a way that won't scare him off. "Six years of patience paid off," Porthos rumbles warmly, slowly extricating himself with a squeeze to Aramis' shoulder, leaning over to kiss the warm skin there.

"You stay, this time I'll fetch things," he says, because Aramis normally does this and he wants to give him the chance to relax. When he returns with the cloths and water, he begins with Athos' back, sponging and cleaning him off reverently. "I think we ought to talk, though, that way none of us are in the dark about what everyone wants, besides us together."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis does his best to lounge, peppering Athos' face in gentle kisses, but as soon as Porthos returns he finds himself reaching for a cloth as well. He uses it to clean Athos' front, dragging the cloth gently over his belly and thighs before lifting higher to inspect Porthos. "You want to be with us, don't you?" he asks Athos as he swipes at Porthos' skin. "As Porthos and I have been for many months, you wish to be the three of us, together?"

[somepoorsoul]

Athos shivers a little at the touch of cool water on his warm skin, not unpleasantly. He turns onto his back, pillowing his head on his forearm, though his gaze skitters away when they turn their questions on him. He wishes desperately he only knew the answer that would make them most happy.

“Is that so different from what we already are? Besides…this?"

[du_vallon]

Porthos smiles fondly down at Athos as he moves to clean Aramis with a knowing, familiar touch. He's been doing it so long now that he could do it blind and one-handed, but right now, they have to talk about the future and it's bright and happy, as far as Porthos is concerned. "No," he admits. "And yes."

He sets the bowl at their feet, reaching over for a pair of boxer-briefs to slide into them, perched at the top of the bed with his elbow propping up his chin. "There's practical stuff, though," he admits. "Sleeping arrangements, financial situations and paperwork." He looks up, catches Aramis' eye over Athos' shoulder. "The fact we want kids."

[afineseamstress]

"Two of our own blood," says Aramis, speaking through a sudden spike of nerves. "More if we can manage it." He shares a brief look with Porthos. "And we'd like to take in orphans. We want to be as we are now, Athos, but with you and as more. We want to be a family, in the truest sense of the word."

[somepoorsoul]

“Paperwork?” Athos tips his head to look at Porthos with puzzlement, unable to fathom what their current situation may have to do with anything so bureaucratic. “You’re mad,” he adds mildly, on the subject of children. Athos would never dare voice objections to their intentions to leap into fatherhood, but neither does he have a similar wish. He will be there, he supposes, but he cannot imagine what role he will have to play. The children will have fathers enough, and a mother somewhere, and surely some sort of caretaker. What more could he offer?

“But I would never ask you to alter any of your plans,” he says softly, and swallows hard. “I would stand beside you as all your mad dreams are realized.” He flushes, the confession heartfelt and difficult to say, for all its brevity. Athos would have followed them anywhere they allowed him to, even if they had never ended up quite here. “Is that family enough?"

[du_vallon]

Porthos shrugs, not sure he sees the confusion when it comes to paperwork. "If you're with us, you need to be a contact in case something happens. You need to be able to access our money, have your name on any deeds for a house," he says, because that's what he honestly believes. His voice falls away, though, when Athos says two words that make him flush with worry, hoping that this won't all end because Athos doesn't want children.

And he doesn't, does he? Why else would he protest so if he didn't? So how can they be three if one doesn't want a part of the family as much, even if he's standing beside them. How does it work when two are married and the third is just as loved? These are the things Porthos himself is still struggling to understand. "And a house in the country," he says, but they've spoken of that. "And you," he finishes. "You with us, growing old with whites in your hair and a bit of a stomach because my food is just too good to be ignored."

[afineseamstress]

"Just remain with us," says Aramis, lifting up on an elbow. Athos' words are not what he most desires to hear, but neither are they what he most fears - that Athos will leave them. He convinced Porthos that he could be a good father, Aramis might work the same magic with Athos, yet. Even if he cannot, so long as Athos does not abandon them to their mad hopes, he and Porthos can survive.

He traces the chain around Athos' neck with his fingertip, leaning in to kiss the locket that hangs beneath it. "All this time, that's been enough." And now Athos trusts them with more, more than even Aramis has dared to dream of - surely all is possible if Athos has begun to hope again. "Trust us to look after you.

[somepoorsoul]

Athos snorts softly at the image Porthos sketches, turning his head to look at him with a fond and slightly dazed smile. For so long, growing old at all was not a thing he dreamed of, and certainly not so contentedly. And yet Porthos speaks as though it is the most obvious thing in the world. For a moment, it’s just as real to Athos.

He cannot forget, though, what that future sacrifices: the duty and honor of the musketeers, the life he had chosen in France when he most needed direction, and these men still by his side. They have found a different duty here, and Athos no longer questions the rightness of what they do, ridding devils from this place, but Darrow is not his home. Even with all Aramis and Porthos offer, he isn’t sure it will ever be. They will hate that, and Athos already hates himself a bit when he thinks of his unhappiness poisoning those he loves.

But with these two men by his side, perhaps he can bear it. “I do,” he murmurs, wrapping his hand around his locket, which is warm from Aramis’ kiss and being pressed between their bodies. “I would follow you anywhere, you fools. You should know that by now.” What might have been an admonishment on anyone else’s lips could not be more fond on his.

[du_vallon]

"You say that now, but we're about to spend a lot of money trying to get what we want," Porthos says, cautious through every step of this because he doesn't want to ruin it, but he also doesn't want to lose it. "Fifteen thousand is what we're going to need for the beginning of all this. Between the lawyer and the agency, not to mention when we actually find someone," he says, a bit fretful.

"And the house," he adds. "We'll start looking soon. I hope you'll come, too. It'll be your house, just as much."

[afineseamstress]

"We have to begin right away," says Aramis on Porthos' heels. "The process can take time. Some couples wait years." His earnest expression wilts at that. As long as he has already waited for children, it is hard to think of waiting even one more year, let alone many.

He reaches for Porthos' hand, twining their fingers. "So we must rush to wait. By the time we manage it, we hope to at least have room for them."

[somepoorsoul]

By God, they have so many plans, plans that still seem so wild and impossible, for all Aramis and Porthos swear by them. The thought of so much change so swiftly, when he has barely found his footing as it is, forces Athos to swallow back panic. His gaze settles on the ceiling as he struggles to contain his expression and his thoughts. He had known all this before he had decided to accept their offer, had promised himself that he would never stand in the way of their overflowing happiness, even when it overwhelmed him. He must keep that promise now.

“The money doesn’t trouble me,” he assures them, a touch of amusement entering his voice when he adds, “So long as it does not end with all of us in debtors’ prison. And I have no complaints about a house in the countryside.” Athos looks at one of them, and then the other, and all at once it dawns on him that they might be as afraid to lose him as he is to lose them. He swallows back a lump in his throat. “I’m not going anywhere, gentlemen. I swear.”

[du_vallon]

Porthos fears waiting years, but not for his own impatience. He's not sure he's ready to see the dismal look on Aramis' face with every passing day that they aren't on the path they want to be on. "One thing at a time, though," he confirms. "The accounts, that's the first and easiest. Just a trip to the bank. Then you can come with us for the house." He twists up his fingers in Aramis' hand, staring at him fondly.

"Then, the lawyer and the interviews begin, once we've got the money." And he intends to get that money as soon as he possibly can.

[afineseamstress]

Aramis feels a touch lighter for the fondness in Porthos' expression, and again for Athos' promise not to leave them, even as they lay more hardships at his feet.

He smiles and stretches, thinking idly of how wonderful a hot bath would feel. It is frequently where he and Porthos find themselves after a tumble, and Aramis finds himself gazing in the direction of it now. "We will need an even bigger bath," he murmurs, "If we are to fit three."

[somepoorsoul]

Aramis’ comment breaks some of the tension in Athos’ expression. Fondly, he rolls his eyes and informs Aramis of what he surely already knows: “You are ridiculous.” His gaze refocuses on the ceiling, and he wishes he knew how to roll towards one of them and bury his face against their skin, and be assured that they will manage, somehow, as strange, and new, and frightening as it all seems.

“I have a request,” he says instead, grimacing slightly as he imagines their reaction of what he is about to ask for. “Let me tell others about this. In my own time.” It’s a bit horrifying, this idea of telling d’Artagnan, or Allison, or, God forbid, Constance. But worse yet is the thought that he might see them, and realize that they are looking at him differently, and it is because they know.