somepoorsoul | (no subject)

Athos awakens in a weary haze of memories. Though the clock tells him it is mid-morning, he feels simultaneously like he has slept for days and not at all. A few moments pass before he realizes why he cannot shake the sights as senses of his childhood - the smell of forget-me-nots, Catherine’s bright red hair (he has not even thought of her for ages), Thomas’ boyish laughter. Then he remembers, and he exhaustedly presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.

He is tempted to remain abed until someone comes looking, but that would only delay his shame, and anyway, Athos is too honorable. He dresses slowly in garments that once again seem familiar as he tries to piece together the last few days, memories coming to him as though being relayed by someone else. Sheepishly, he misses the body and heart of his youth; he had been frightened and shy, world-weary too soon, but free and unfettered in a way he has not felt in some time.

Unfettered, perhaps, but also a fool. He has matters to explain, and hearts to mend.

When Athos carefully comes downstairs, his eyes are red-rimmed, and though he has tried to put himself back together, he knows he must still appear out-of-sorts. He can already smell coffee, thank goodness. But whether or not Aramis and Porthos will welcome his company is something he has yet to discover.

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From:

du_vallon

Porthos feels better for the warm bath Aramis had drawn and for the talk they'd had to bolster his courage. He still is wary as to what this conversation is going to be like, but he can put aside his worries of Allison and his fears of those seeing stones and focus, instead, on Athos and what he must be going through. Except, when he leaves the bedroom, the room is occupied with a man and not a boy.

Porthos clears his throat to make his presence known, unable to help the relief at how his heart sings to see Athos back to normal. "There's food too, if you're hungry."

From:

afineseamstress

It is almost a mirror of how they had been arranged when this began, Porthos already in the room and Aramis emerging with wet curls, still pulling on his shirt when he realizes that Athos is there, too, truly, properly there this time with all his memories intact. There will be a sadness there, he is sure, but for now Aramis would like to celebrate.

"Well, I am hungry," he says, giving caution a pass for now and coming forward at once to embrace Athos, hands dipping against his back more tenderly than they ever would have at home. "Welcome back, brother."

From:

somepoorsoul

Athos does not plan to cling to Aramis so when the man approaches, but then his arms are around him, his embrace warm and scent familiar, and he sags into the man’s arms, holding tight in his trembling relief. With a steadying breath he pulls away and tries to smile at Porthos, offering a tiny nod.

He does not quite trust himself to speak.

From:

du_vallon

Porthos' fingers itch to do the same, but he's not sure he can vault over the awkward silences and shy looks that have been there for the past few days. Instead, Porthos fills up a cup of coffee the exact way Athos likes it and brings it to him, taking an extra moment to slide his palm around Athos' when he puts the cup in his hands.

"I'm happy to see you again," he says, voice rough with sincerity.

From:

afineseamstress

Aramis releases Athos with a last squeeze of his hip, touching Porthos' shoulder as he pulls away in search of his own cup. Of all of them, the most remains to be said between Athos and Porthos, and Aramis means to give them the space to say it. "I'll heat the souffle," he says, for he thinks he can manage at least that.

From:

somepoorsoul

“Porthos.” Athos lets their hands linger against one another as he cups the coffee mug, his smile warming and softening as he looks into the man’s brown eyes. He is not sure that he deserves to be forgive for what he has said in these last two weeks, but he thinks (hopes?) he sees something that says he might be. “I may need some brandy in this,” he says with a rueful smile.

From:

du_vallon

Porthos has longed for this touch from Athos for so long, an ache in his heart starting to thaw as he looks at the man before him, aware that they have much to say, but he'd so much prefer to speak with actions instead of words. He nods, though, when Athos makes his request for brandy, slipping away to find the bottle they keep.

He returns to Athos to give a splash in the coffee, biting back a crass joke about Athos being old enough to partake in it.

From:

afineseamstress

Aramis stares over his shoulder with interest. "I'll have some of that, too," he calls, pulling down plates for when the souffle has warmed. As content as he is to watch Porthos and Athos gaze at one another, he knows Athos will be less awkward for having something to do.

"To the table, please."

From:

somepoorsoul

With another tender look, Athos takes the brandy from Porthos and brings both it and his coffee to the table. He adds a splash of the liquor to another mug of coffee for Aramis and wryly observes, “I think you have outdone yourself, Porthos.” His own coffee is arresting in its bitterness, balanced by the sweet brandy beneath, and Athos lets his eyes slip shut as he sips it, having never been so grateful for a drink. It is hard to shake the emotions of the last few days, the thoughts of La Fere, and his father, and Thomas, all of which still linger close to the surface in a way that, before his transformation, they have not in many years.

From:

du_vallon

Porthos isn't sure what he's done and the confusion must show on his face by how his brow furrows and he gives Athos a wary look, still feeling off balance. He knows they need to talk about things, but he's not sure where to start and doesn't know what he can say that won't make the situation awkward.

Still, he sits at the table and fidgets with the place settings rather than drink coffee that will get him more jittery. "S'just coffee," he grunts, scratching his fingers through his now-shorn hair.

From:

afineseamstress

Too transfixed to not, Aramis lifts a hand, brushing it against Porthos' shorn scalp after he places the souffle on the table. "Spoken like a man who does not understand the necessity of coffee in the morning," he says with a smile.

When he takes a sip of his own brandied coffee, however, Aramis pauses, eyes raking Athos for a telltale tremor. Transformed or not, Athos' body has been without strong liquor for many days - he does not seem to have suffered any ill effects that Aramis can see, though, thank God. Still, Aramis raises a brow in question.

From:

somepoorsoul

“And soufflé, too.” Athos presses his lips together, displeased by the question that lurks in Aramis’ eyes, but he shakes his head. Though he feels ill and his head aches, the power that brought about this change in him has spared him the worst of those miserable effects. Thank God for that.

He does not sit, but stands by his chair, looking from Aramis, to Porthos, and back again. He has so much he must say - so much he does not know how to say - and barely knows where to begin. With another swallow of coffee he says finally, “I must thank you both for your overwhelming kindness these past two weeks. It was more than I deserved, given my behavior."

From:

du_vallon

"What were we supposed to do?" Porthos wonders gruffly, arching his brow as he gives Athos a questioning look. "Abandon you and not give a damn when you needed it most? It'd be an awful thing for two men who love you to do," is what he has to say about that, and even if he'd been uncomfortable for some of those days, it hadn't been nearly as bad as it could have been.

He shrugs, staring at his place setting, remembering what Aramis had said the night before. "It's what you were taught, as a child."

From:

afineseamstress

Aramis takes his own seat, pushing out Athos' chair with his toes as he sets to serving up the souffle. "Indeed," he says, "It will take far more than that to see us turn from you," he says lightly, but he cannot pretend they have not been changed by it. Porthos has shaved his head, for heaven's sake, and Aramis wishes he could say it only goes as far as that.

"Are you alright?" he asks at last, sharp eyes not allowing Athos to escape.

From:

somepoorsoul

“That does not mean I hurt you any less.” He holds his gaze on Porthos, expression tired and pained. Even as a naive youth, Athos had understood how uncomfortable he made Porthos, even if he had not quite known why; now, it seems obvious, for every gesture he made, every word he spoke had reminded the man of those many foolish souls who had thought less of him through the years.

He nods in reply to Aramis, but then stops, regretting the apparent lie. He can’t get Thomas out of his head, that is the trouble, memories of him as a boy mixing with the thought of him bleeding on the floor. Finally sinking into his chair, he answers, “I will be."

From:

du_vallon

Porthos presses his lips together, unsure how much of his hurt had come from the words and how much had come from the stubborn determination to leave them. He leans into Aramis' touch to his head, but his concern is meant for Athos right now, not sure he's ready to move away from their issues. They have to come up sometime.

"You were awkward," he says. "And yeah, you might have made some comments that stung, but I think it hurt more, seeing you so damn determined to escape us and this place."

From:

afineseamstress

Aramis raises a brow at his hands where they curl around the warm cup, not having had expected to delve into this so swiftly, but that is his own mistake. He knows very well Porthos' habit of driving straight into things, sometimes a detriment, sometimes a welcome change from his and Athos' habit of dwelling in silence.

He drinks from his cup, not wishing to stand in the way of that.

From:

somepoorsoul

Athos looks away, previously softened shoulders tensing once again. Porthos may have had time to consider what he needs to say, but Athos has just awoken, and is still trying to separate childhood memory from the reality of the last two weeks. He is ready for condemnations of his ignorance, for he has spent more than his share of time contemplating the failures of his youth, but is in no way prepared for the accusation that lurks beneath Porthos’ observation. “I was a stubborn, homesick boy,” he says in a voice that’s flat and carefully controlled. “That is all.”

From:

du_vallon

Porthos rubs at his cheek with sweeping brushes of his thumb, nodding and understanding that, but it still stings to think of that in combination with the other. "And the rest?" he asks, a bit hoarse and anxious for the answer that's coming. "Is that what you really think of me, underneath it all?" he asks, praying the answer is 'no'.

From:

afineseamstress

Aramis sighs, reaching to squeeze Porthos' thigh. Of course Athos does not think so, but Aramis has already exhausted his own good word on the matter, and the only real comfort now can come from Athos, a man who already looks as if he hopes the floor will swallow him. He waits, still in silence, and gives Athos an encouraging look.

From:

somepoorsoul

Athos flinches, though he knows he deserves the question. In dozens of small ways, his behavior has been abominable, and in his ignorance and innocence he had said things of Porthos that now, as Athos the musketeer, he would not have let stand. Selfishly, he might wish that Porthos could see that the stammering, foolish boy he had been bore no connection to the man he is now, but he knows that is an unfair expectation.

"I have only thought the best of you, from the moment we met." Athos raises his eyes, and after an uncertain moment reaches to rest his hand on Porthos', afraid that even the slightest embrace will be rejected. "My esteem has only ever grown."

From:

du_vallon

Porthos is so desperate to hear any of this that as soon as Athos touches him, Porthos can't hold back. He pushes forward over the table to cup Athos' cheeks with both hands, kissing him as hard as he can because he's missed that and he's missed this and knowing Athos doesn't think poorly of him makes walls crumble down that he's been holding up. He's breathless by the time he sinks back, clasping onto Aramis like a lifeline.

"I was so worried," he admits. "I know I shouldn't have been, but it was always there..."

From:

afineseamstress

"No one blames you for it," says Aramis, holding on to Porthos in turn, for they all know what Porthos has suffered, "Nor you, Athos. There is much I would have wished differently for you in life, but I am glad to know you as you are now. My good opinion of you has never wavered."

He smiles a little. "Not even when I thought your young self might crack a tooth with all that tight jawed posturing."

From:

somepoorsoul

Athos is so prepared for rejection that the kiss startles a tiny sob out of him, and he clings to Porthos, a fist curling in his shirt. Without realizing it, he has craved touch over these past two weeks, and now, with emotions so raw and close to the surface, he doesn’t hold back. He is flushed when they pull away, and Athos runs his hand through his hair as he steadies himself. “I was terrified,” he admits, offering Aramis a tiny grin.

From:

du_vallon

Porthos doesn't necessarily let go completely. He keeps hold of Athos with one hand, the other still clasping onto Aramis as he breathes out, though he's wary of what Athos is saying, yet. "Terrified of what? Of us?" he asks, confused.