Hello there. Here's a short oneshot for the need of Christmas spirit, which is kinda lacking at the moment. Anyways, hope it isn't too OOC and I hope you guys like it.
LS
Six months after their adventure to save the queen's diamonds snow settled into the streets of Paris and continued to fall softly as the nights stretched longer. D'Artagnan had settled comfortably into the apartments with the other men and had wormed his way even further into their hearts than they had ever thought possible. The three had worked patrols and missions for the king throughout the months past and now that Christmas was upon them they were given some time off from being the king's musketeers to enjoy the holiday. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis reveled in their rest. Being a musketeer was a great thing, but being able to relax at this time of year was something special to the three men. Athos found his way to the taverns, not only for the drink but also for the stories that came through from strangers stopping by for the warmth of the fire and some hot food. Porthos spent his days flirting with the young ladies out doing their shopping and accompanying them caroling in the evenings, returning home rosy cheeked and grinning at the end of the night. Aramis used his days to return to the church to aid with the sheltering of those in need that flocked to the great building.
However, there was one unhappy face among the group. D'Artagnan had planned to go home to his parents in Gascony and stay in the mild winter, as he did not take well to the cold. Not that he would ever admit it, of course. As luck would have it, the roads to the south through the small mountains had snowed shut already, and d'Artagnan was forced to winter in the snow. A few letters had come for the boy from his parents by way of the couriers mounted on their sturdy ponies. Buttercup was getting on in years, and while in her youth she could have made the journey through the snow, that was no longer the case for the spotted mare. D'Artagnan did not begrudge his horse the fact she couldn't bear him home, but as the nights grew longer and colder a change could be seen in the young man.
D'Artagnan went from being an extraverted, happy young man to withdrawing into himself and his blankets as the cold he was unused to bit deep into his bones. Not even the charming miss Bonacieux couldn't draw a smile out of the boy any longer. He was still attentive to her, but the Gascon couldn't do any more than give her a small sachet of lavender from his home and wish her the happiest of holidays before disappearing once again into his fortress of blankets.
Christmas eve came quickly for Aramis, Porthos and Athos, and it pained them to see their young charge so withdrawn at such a joyous time of year. Together, Aramis and Porthos planned to get d'Artagnan out of his blankets and into the Christmas spirit by dragging him along to the markets in search of a fat gosling for tomorrow's Christmas feast. Hopefully the sights, sounds and smells of Christmas would lift the boy's spirits a bit.
"Come along, lad. The fresh air will do you good," Aramis gently encouraged the boy with a gentle, but firm hand on the shoulder.
"Really now, do you trust Athos here to pick out a goose worth eating? I don't think the man knows what to look for in a bird, unlike us fine gentlemen," Porthos tried joking with d'Artagnan, but he merely received a heated glare from Athos.
"Fine! Stay in that blasted cocoon of yours until it's warm enough for your ladylike disposition!" Athos felt all the disappointment of having a surly and unhappy d'Artagnan bubble to the surface. It had been far too long since the boy had idiotically tried to kill both himself and the others in a proper duel against the Cardinal's guards, and frankly, Athos missed that boy dearly (though he would never admit it).
Aramis and Porthos found themselves being pushed out the front door, which Athos slammed with far too much force before the three set off down the snowy road.
Planchet, attracted from the warm kitchen by the noise watched as his young master d'Artagnan moved, his mop of wavy brown hair turning to watch Athos and the other masters as they walked through the snow away into the darkness.
"There's still time to catch up to them," Planchet started, "Shall I go fetch your cloak?"
D'Artagnan turned and gave him a small, sad smile. "I think not, Planchet, for I fear I would freeze before getting halfway out the door."
Planchet's excitement at doing something for his master deflated slightly with his hopes for a raise before Christmas. "Very well then."
"Did you know," D'Artagnan started before Planchet had fully retreated to the stove, "I had never seen so much snow before? Down south in Gascony it stays warm until November, and it only snows during winters that are absolutely freezing. When it snowed, Mama would make us piping hot pies, and Père would let the dogs come in and they would keep us warm. It's like the coldest corner of Hell, this Parisian winter. I don't know how you can stand it!"
It was more words than Planchet had heard him say in a week, and the emotion when talking about his parents would make anyone see the boy was homesick. Then Planchet was stuck by an idea. A wonderful, amazing, wondrous idea.
"You know, I think this place needs to be a bit more festive before the other Monsieurs come home. Would you mind helping me put out the decorations?" Planchet waited nervously. He knew that Aramis and Porthos liked having the house decorated, but Athos was always so grumpy it was hard to tell, and d'Artagnan was a mystery in this context.
However, Planchet's fears were put to rest as the boy nodded and stood, shedding his many blankets to reveal his thin frame. Quickly he fetched the basket of juniper boughs and holly that he had purchased at the market and the two began to place them in the windows and on the mantelpiece. D'Artagnan even managed to work three of the boughs into a wreath and hung it on the door with a piece of string.
Eventually, Planchet retreated to the kitchens. This time not for warmth, but to begin making dinner. He eagerly watched the streets through the kitchen window to see his master's reaction to the obvious decorating. He just spotted them as they strode under the street lamp when a soft voice began to sing. It took Planchet a few moments to realize that the sweet, high tenor was d'Artagnan, and when he heard the words his young master was singing it brought tears to his over emotional eyes, and out on the street the three figures paused at their door to listen.
"I'll be home for Christmas,
You can plan on me.
Please have snow, and mistletoe,
And presents on the tree.
Christmas eve will find me,
Where the lovelight gleams.
I'll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dreams."
D'Artagnan's voice trailed off, but the song lingered on in all four listeners' ears. They all knew it was d'Artagnan's first Christmas away from his family, but it had never really occurred to them just how much it would affect their young friend. Before they could stop him, Porthos bounded away from Aramis and Athos, flung the door open and scooped up the now terrified d'Artagnan into a very big bone crushing hug.
"We can be your family for the holidays!" The older man cried, disregarding d'Artagnan's need to breathe completely. "See, you have Papa Athos and Mama Aramis" Who gave a mighty mean glare at being 'Mama', "And big brother Porthos all here for you!"
D'Artagnan managed to wiggle his way out of Porthos' large arms, coming free with a pop. He took a moment before breaking out into a large grin and hugging the large man back.
In the kitchen, Planchet knew that somehow, things would be alright now. Who knew, perhaps they would even get the boy into a pair of skates before spring came.