Athos flushes at the sudden attention, turning to look at Aramis with eyes bright and wide. He swallows back a lump in his throat, fingers still dancing lightly over Porthos’ back. He has thought the words so many times, even spoken them in different circumstances and with different intent, and now saying them feels like the most natural thing in the world, and yet full of meaning. “I love you,” he repeats in a shaky whisper.