Athos sends Aramis a dark look that manages to perfectly articulate what will happen if he calls him that again.

It will likely have no effect. Aramis has grown resistant to his warnings over their years together, and the inoculation has only been strengthened since they fell into bed together. Despite himself, Athos smiles.

Athos has always preferred to answer with action instead of words, and now is no different. He finishes his coffee, the brandy that remains at the bottom of the mug both sweet and sharp, soothing and invigorating. Then with a sly smile, he captures Aramis' wrists and hauls him close enough to kiss with all the desperate, unsteady relief the morning has brought.