A/N: Just a little tag to 1.08. I really love Athos and D'Artagnan's relationship, and this was just the perfect scene for Athos' 'big brother' qualities to come out. Not my greatest fic of all time, but I'm working on, and have several ideas for, larger ones.
Warning: Does contain light non-sexual spanking
"What did I tell you about thinking before you act?" Athos demanded as he leaned against the wall of a building, his chest heaving, and his hair clinging to his face due to the downpour. He had only just saved D'Artagnan from being killed by the monster, Labarge. And now that the adrenaline and fright of the moment were wearing off, his anger was returning.
"I couldn't help it, I'm not like you." D'Artagnan bit back, bowing his head against the onslaught and, admittedly, a little from shame.
Athos paused, turning to the boy and pointing a finger at him. His tone was filled with sincerity as he spoke. "You are. More than you know."
D'Artagnan blinked. Coming from Athos that seemed almost like praise. He wasn't allowed to enjoy his delight for more than a moment though.
Sensing there was no imminent danger, Athos spun around, grabbing the somewhat startled youth by the collar and bending him forward slightly. He then brought his free hand down hard on the boy's bottom several times. D'Artagnan gasped, both from shock and pain.
Athos said aloud wryly, though it was more to himself than D'Artagnan, "And I believe that God is now punishing me by sending me a boy who insists upon following in the footsteps of my own youthful folly."
"Athos!" He gasped, as one swat fell low, right on the place where he sat. D'Artagnan squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden stinging in them. Then, just soon as it had begun, it ended, and he found himself being shoved upright against the wall. He gasped again, swiping a hand over his eyes. Not that it would have mattered. The rain would cover any stray tears for him. He wasn't certain how many blows had fallen, but he knew that his bottom was very warm and stung something fierce.
Athos looked out at the street again, thankful no one had seen. He didn't want to embarrass the boy, even as furious with him as he was for disregarding him.
Athos turned to look at his young apprentice who was swiping a hand angrily across his face. He softened and reached out to squeeze his young friend's shoulder comfortingly. "Come on." He tugged him out into the street once more, calling, "Get some rest! We'll train tomorrow."
The youth paused to stare at his brother before smiling faintly and hurrying off. That coming from Athos, D'Artagnan knew, was the equivalent of a sincere "I forgive you."
