"I'm sharing with Athos!" D'Artagnan called out as soon as they entered their room at the inn and saw the two beds. All three Musketeers looked at him, Athos bemused and Aramis and Porthos delighted.
"Well that was eager," Aramis drawled with his best implication-heavy tone.
"What...no! I just...I...you snore!" D'Artagnan pointed an accusing finger at Porthos. "You snore, and you kick!" The finger swung to point at Aramis, who was still grinning.
"He's got a point. Your sharp little elbows leave nasty bruises," Porthos informed Aramis. "Maybe I want Athos too."
"You can't, I called him," D'Artagnan hissed, wrapping a possessive hand around Athos' arm.
"Right, clearly no one is sleeping with Athos except D'Artagnan," Aramis sniggered.
"Stop saying it like that!"
"...I'm going to bed," Athos announced, and proceeded to ignore D'Artagnan 'guarding' his side of the bed from Porthos, who eventually gave up and resigned himself to Aramis' flailing limbs.
2.
"I think that woman was interested in you, Athos."
The sentiment could only have come from D'Artagnan; Porthos and Aramis knew Athos too well to engage in that kind of idiocy.
"Yeah, maybe if she turns out not to be a party to murder you could make another visit." Or perhaps they didn't. Porthos grinned when Athos glared at him.
"The matter is immaterial," Athos stated, hoping that would be the end of it.
"Why, because she's part of an investigation?"
"No, because I don't...engage. In that way." Awkward phrasing. Athos could hear Aramis laughing mentally.
"With women?" Behind D'Artagnan's back Aramis' eyebrows shot up in surprise and clear speculation at the question. Athos sent him a quelling look; D'Artagnan wasn't quite so soiled by city and army life, he didn't realize the implications of what he said.
"Just so."
"It's a shame, she was beautiful."
"Better not, comrade, the last time a woman was interested in Athos she was nearly burnt at the stake."
"Thank you for bringing up that unpleasant event Aramis, that was gentlemanly of you," Athos drawled in his nastiest, highest class tone. Aramis winced and shrugged.
"Let's be honest, Ninon De Larroque was far above all four of us, Paris, and probably France as a whole."
"Says the man who demonstrated for at least three women in that parlor his 'appreciation for scientific knowledge'."
"What can I say, I'm an intellectual."
3.
"Orders from the Captain." D'Artagnan looked up eagerly as Athos descended the steps from Treville's office.
"A mission?"
"If you can call it that." Athos injected as much disdain into his tone as possible as he handed the envelop over.
"Parade duty? Ah, sod." D'Artagnan scowled at the neat lines of text. "This is all we're good for?"
"You're still green, light duties like this are a way of helping you gain experience." Athos' tone switched from lecturing to rueful. "And I, apparently, am ready to be put out to pasture."
"That's not true!" Self-deprecation was Athos' only foray into humor but it never failed to make D'Artagnan feel the need to leap to his defense. "Athos you're the most capable leader and the most gifted commander in the regiment. You see things that everyone else misses, and you make the difficult decisions before anyone else has to. You always accept responsibility for the consequences of all of our actions, and more often than not you're the only reason those consequences are not disastrous. We all see the small things you do to make others' lives better, with no hope of reward or recognition."
"All right, enough." Athos might admit, privately, that he didn't mind these attempts to reassure him of his worth, misguided and mistaken as he knew they were. "Save all that flattery for someone with the power to promote you, on me it's just unnecessary."
"It's entirely necessary! I need to make it clear why I--" D'Artagnan broke off with a look on his face that appeared to be horror. Athos raised an eyebrow in polite confusion, which simply led to his comrade opening his mouth once or twice like a fish.
"You--?" Athos prompted at last when it looked like D'Artagnan was truly not going to make it to the end of the sentence on his own.
"I...SO ADMIRE YOUR SWORDSMANSHIP!" D'Artagnan yelped, overly loud.
"We weren't even talking of fencing," Athos felt compelled to point out, at which point D'Artagnan apparently gave up the conversation as a lost cause because he turned sharply on his heel and practically fled the courtyard.
"Again. AGAIN! What is wrong with me?!" he was muttering as he went. Athos really had no idea what was going on in the lad's head.
+1. Athos was starting to get the sense that the Cardinal had an unhealthy fascination with combat competitions. He came up with these outlandish ways to instigate (or goad others into instigating) these dueling events and then would sit back with that unnervingly glassy gaze and just...watch. It was unpleasant.
Not that the Cardinal's disturbingly rapt presence was enough to distract Athos from the fight. He pivoted, watched with pity as the Red Guard left an opening in his defense large enough to ride a horse through, and struck. If the Cardinal would insist on challenging the Musketeers, he would continue to be humiliated by the caliber of talent on his side of the equation.
Duel ended and purse and prestige won, Athos retreated to the garrison armory to clean his sword and contemplate. Recently as the absence of the locket around Athos' neck felt lighter and lighter with each passing day, he had found himself taking a measure of pride in his swordplay that had not been there before. On a day like today, when no one had died by his hand and he had felt the smiles of his brothers at his back, it felt...good.
As if summoned by his thoughts of his comrades, D'Artagnan's head appeared around the door.
"Aramis said you'd be in here."
"Weapon care routines are essential." D'Artagnan took the advice with the grace he had been developing lately, a nice contrast to his initial defensiveness, and with something Athos thought might be approaching fondness.
"Did you see that guard's face when you disarmed him without him scoring a single hit?"
Athos allowed himself a small smile.
"His estimation of his skill was greatly exaggerated."
"I'll say!"
Athos stood to replace the cleaning supplies, and found D'Artagnan right in front of him. He blinked when D'Artagnan reached out to take the cloth and oil from him.
"I enjoyed watching your duel."
"I'm...glad?"
The lad was definitely very close, and his voice was...not taking a tone Athos had ever heard from him before.
Their hands met, and Athos surrendered the cleaning supplies in confusion. Somehow in the handoff D'Artagnan's hand found Athos' wrist just past the edge of his glove and skated along the sensitive skin there, sending shivers up his arm.
D'Artagnan's other hand found the pommel of Athos' sword, newly replaced at his waist, and played along the top in a way that was, wow, actually rather obscene.
"I really admire your swordsmanship," he said, voice breathy in a way Athos had not previously been aware he knew how to accomplish...and then turned and walked off, presumably to replace the cleaning supplies in their proper storage.
He left Athos standing in the armory staring after him, willing his pants to fit correctly again and thinking slightly despairingly that D'Artagnan was supposed to be the innocent one.
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timeasmymeasure
FILL (D’Artagnan/Athos)
Date: 2014-05-16 11:48 am (UTC)"I'm sharing with Athos!" D'Artagnan called out as soon as they entered their room at the inn and saw the two beds. All three Musketeers looked at him, Athos bemused and Aramis and Porthos delighted.
"Well that was eager," Aramis drawled with his best implication-heavy tone.
"What...no! I just...I...you snore!" D'Artagnan pointed an accusing finger at Porthos. "You snore, and you kick!" The finger swung to point at Aramis, who was still grinning.
"He's got a point. Your sharp little elbows leave nasty bruises," Porthos informed Aramis. "Maybe I want Athos too."
"You can't, I called him," D'Artagnan hissed, wrapping a possessive hand around Athos' arm.
"Right, clearly no one is sleeping with Athos except D'Artagnan," Aramis sniggered.
"Stop saying it like that!"
"...I'm going to bed," Athos announced, and proceeded to ignore D'Artagnan 'guarding' his side of the bed from Porthos, who eventually gave up and resigned himself to Aramis' flailing limbs.
2.
"I think that woman was interested in you, Athos."
The sentiment could only have come from D'Artagnan; Porthos and Aramis knew Athos too well to engage in that kind of idiocy.
"Yeah, maybe if she turns out not to be a party to murder you could make another visit." Or perhaps they didn't. Porthos grinned when Athos glared at him.
"The matter is immaterial," Athos stated, hoping that would be the end of it.
"Why, because she's part of an investigation?"
"No, because I don't...engage. In that way." Awkward phrasing. Athos could hear Aramis laughing mentally.
"With women?" Behind D'Artagnan's back Aramis' eyebrows shot up in surprise and clear speculation at the question. Athos sent him a quelling look; D'Artagnan wasn't quite so soiled by city and army life, he didn't realize the implications of what he said.
"Just so."
"It's a shame, she was beautiful."
"Better not, comrade, the last time a woman was interested in Athos she was nearly burnt at the stake."
"Thank you for bringing up that unpleasant event Aramis, that was gentlemanly of you," Athos drawled in his nastiest, highest class tone. Aramis winced and shrugged.
"Let's be honest, Ninon De Larroque was far above all four of us, Paris, and probably France as a whole."
"Says the man who demonstrated for at least three women in that parlor his 'appreciation for scientific knowledge'."
"What can I say, I'm an intellectual."
3.
"Orders from the Captain." D'Artagnan looked up eagerly as Athos descended the steps from Treville's office.
"A mission?"
"If you can call it that." Athos injected as much disdain into his tone as possible as he handed the envelop over.
"Parade duty? Ah, sod." D'Artagnan scowled at the neat lines of text. "This is all we're good for?"
"You're still green, light duties like this are a way of helping you gain experience." Athos' tone switched from lecturing to rueful. "And I, apparently, am ready to be put out to pasture."
"That's not true!" Self-deprecation was Athos' only foray into humor but it never failed to make D'Artagnan feel the need to leap to his defense. "Athos you're the most capable leader and the most gifted commander in the regiment. You see things that everyone else misses, and you make the difficult decisions before anyone else has to. You always accept responsibility for the consequences of all of our actions, and more often than not you're the only reason those consequences are not disastrous. We all see the small things you do to make others' lives better, with no hope of reward or recognition."
"All right, enough." Athos might admit, privately, that he didn't mind these attempts to reassure him of his worth, misguided and mistaken as he knew they were. "Save all that flattery for someone with the power to promote you, on me it's just unnecessary."
"It's entirely necessary! I need to make it clear why I--" D'Artagnan broke off with a look on his face that appeared to be horror. Athos raised an eyebrow in polite confusion, which simply led to his comrade opening his mouth once or twice like a fish.
"You--?" Athos prompted at last when it looked like D'Artagnan was truly not going to make it to the end of the sentence on his own.
"I...SO ADMIRE YOUR SWORDSMANSHIP!" D'Artagnan yelped, overly loud.
"We weren't even talking of fencing," Athos felt compelled to point out, at which point D'Artagnan apparently gave up the conversation as a lost cause because he turned sharply on his heel and practically fled the courtyard.
"Again. AGAIN! What is wrong with me?!" he was muttering as he went. Athos really had no idea what was going on in the lad's head.
+1.
Athos was starting to get the sense that the Cardinal had an unhealthy fascination with combat competitions. He came up with these outlandish ways to instigate (or goad others into instigating) these dueling events and then would sit back with that unnervingly glassy gaze and just...watch. It was unpleasant.
Not that the Cardinal's disturbingly rapt presence was enough to distract Athos from the fight. He pivoted, watched with pity as the Red Guard left an opening in his defense large enough to ride a horse through, and struck. If the Cardinal would insist on challenging the Musketeers, he would continue to be humiliated by the caliber of talent on his side of the equation.
Duel ended and purse and prestige won, Athos retreated to the garrison armory to clean his sword and contemplate. Recently as the absence of the locket around Athos' neck felt lighter and lighter with each passing day, he had found himself taking a measure of pride in his swordplay that had not been there before. On a day like today, when no one had died by his hand and he had felt the smiles of his brothers at his back, it felt...good.
As if summoned by his thoughts of his comrades, D'Artagnan's head appeared around the door.
"Aramis said you'd be in here."
"Weapon care routines are essential." D'Artagnan took the advice with the grace he had been developing lately, a nice contrast to his initial defensiveness, and with something Athos thought might be approaching fondness.
"Did you see that guard's face when you disarmed him without him scoring a single hit?"
Athos allowed himself a small smile.
"His estimation of his skill was greatly exaggerated."
"I'll say!"
Athos stood to replace the cleaning supplies, and found D'Artagnan right in front of him. He blinked when D'Artagnan reached out to take the cloth and oil from him.
"I enjoyed watching your duel."
"I'm...glad?"
The lad was definitely very close, and his voice was...not taking a tone Athos had ever heard from him before.
Their hands met, and Athos surrendered the cleaning supplies in confusion. Somehow in the handoff D'Artagnan's hand found Athos' wrist just past the edge of his glove and skated along the sensitive skin there, sending shivers up his arm.
D'Artagnan's other hand found the pommel of Athos' sword, newly replaced at his waist, and played along the top in a way that was, wow, actually rather obscene.
"I really admire your swordsmanship," he said, voice breathy in a way Athos had not previously been aware he knew how to accomplish...and then turned and walked off, presumably to replace the cleaning supplies in their proper storage.
He left Athos standing in the armory staring after him, willing his pants to fit correctly again and thinking slightly despairingly that D'Artagnan was supposed to be the innocent one.