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[somepoorsoul]

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.

Comments

[afineseamstress]

"Because talk of a home and children were not enough," muses Aramis, "And your shorn head. I believe we have managed enough upheaval in the time you spent as a youth," he tells Athos with a smile.

He drags his fingers through Athos' hair, moving easily on to skim Porthos' scalp before he lets his hand fall. "Porthos and I ate chocolates off one another," he offers suddenly. "But I imagine that is to be expected."

[somepoorsoul]

It is the sort of ridiculous answer Athos had expected when they had first spoken of how they had spent their time in his (spiritual if not literal) absence, and that makes him grin wryly, softening a bit in the glow of their smiles. In their happiness, he tells himself, surely he can find a bit of his own. If not for his own sake, then theirs. He only wishes their dreams were not so baffling and different, so entirely separate from his own.

He hums softly and closes his eyes, appreciating the soothing feel of Aramis’ fingers in his hair. “It is good to be back,” he says again, and despite the misgivings in his heart about what is to come, he means it.

[du_vallon]

Porthos smiles softly for the words, curling in closely with Athos now that the telling of secrets are done. "You're gonna stay now, right? I mean, neither of us would complain if you decided to grow a pair of tits," he says off-hand and crudely. "Feel free to do that."