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somepoorsoulThe morning after his night of uncharacteristic brawling, Athos awakens with his body aching. Dragging himself upright and placing his bare feet on the floor, he makes the mistake of glancing in the mirror: a green-purple bruise blooms on his jaw, and another near his temple. Surely, under his shirt and the bandages Aramis had woven around his chest, his torso must look even worse. Athos groans and carefully presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. Perhaps if he sits here long enough, the morning will disappear.
No luck.
Very little will make this morning more bearable, but coffee just might help. Slowly, Athos dresses and makes his way downstairs. The lower apartment is uncharacteristically quiet, for he is not the only who had needed to recover after a late night. Aramis had kindly sat up with him for some time, and Porthos…well, Athos isn’t sure what Porthos did after they stalked away from each other in the arena.
Athos winces, and this time it is not due to his bruising. Somehow, he will have to mend whatever broke between in a confrontation that had very quickly gotten out of hand.
But first he needs coffee.
No luck.
Very little will make this morning more bearable, but coffee just might help. Slowly, Athos dresses and makes his way downstairs. The lower apartment is uncharacteristically quiet, for he is not the only who had needed to recover after a late night. Aramis had kindly sat up with him for some time, and Porthos…well, Athos isn’t sure what Porthos did after they stalked away from each other in the arena.
Athos winces, and this time it is not due to his bruising. Somehow, he will have to mend whatever broke between in a confrontation that had very quickly gotten out of hand.
But first he needs coffee.
