A/N: So here's another Musketeer short. This time it's a modern AU with D'Artagnan finding out about a dark secret of Athos. Aramis and Porthos are only too happy to fill the young man in on this unusual secret. Please read, relax, and enjoy.

Athos' Secret

"Hey, there was this package at the door," D'Artagnan called out, shutting the front door and walking through the house to where he knew Athos, Porthos, and Aramis were in the kitchen. They'd invited him over for lunch before they went training at the garrison gym. He was new to the team and though definitely skilled in combat maneuvers, he needed to train with them to learn how to work with them. The three lived together in a house Athos owned. He'd already been over several times in the few short months he'd been working with them.

"Who's it for," Aramis asked. He stood at the island kneading some dough while Athos sat across from him chopping some dried fruits. "Smaller than that, Athos," Aramis said. Porthos was busy at the stove stirring something that smelled delicious in a pot.

"Athos, it looks like."

"I'll take that." Athos dropped the knife and flew out of his seat as he spoke. He was reaching for the package when Porthos came up behind with a few strides of his long legs and pulled it out of D'Artagnan's hands. He took one look at the package before speaking.

"Again, Athos." Porthos sighed. "I thought we'd talked about this."

"This isn't like all of the others. This one is really good. I think." Athos tried to get the box back, but it was firmly in Porthos' arms. The larger man took the box over near Aramis.

"What's going on," D'Artagnan asked. Puzzled by the events, he hadn't yet moved from the entrance of the kitchen.

"Nothing," Athos said quickly.

"Athos here has a problem. He likes to buy things." Aramis ignored their team leader's denial.

"Doesn't seem like a big deal. He does have the money."

"True," Aramis conceded. "But the buying isn't so much the problem. It's the what."

"What does he buy?" D'Artagnan wasn't sure he wanted to know what the man spent his money on, not with that smile Aramis gave.

"Do you want to do the honors, Porthos, or should I?"

"Don't you dare," Athos said, voice firm and warning.

"It'll be my pleasure then," Aramis said, wiping his hands of extra flour. The glee that emanated from the man made D'Artagnan nervous. Surely it couldn't be that bad. He didn't think Aramis would do anything to seriously embarrass his friend, but still he was wondering what Athos was so adamant about hiding. There wasn't much the taciturn man seemed to be embarrassed of.

"D'Artagnan," Aramis began, sliding a hand around the lad's shoulders, "it's time you learn about our fearless leader's deep, dark secret." The sarcasm was evident. As Aramis led him out of the kitchen, to the basement stairs, he heard Athos sigh.

"You couldn't hide it from him forever," Porthos said. He sounded only slightly apologetic. The two were following him and Aramis down the stairs into the basement. He'd been down here multiple times as they'd set it up as an arcade, complete with some of the video games, Skee-Ball, and a pool table, along with a kitchenette and bar.

Aramis continued to lead him through the basement, stopping in front of a closet near the kitchenette, a closet that he'd noticed but hadn't paid all that much attention.

"Here is where we keep Athos' dirty secret. Are you ready?" Aramis had a hand on the handle. D'Artagnan wasn't sure how to respond.

"Just open the damn door already, Aramis," Athos said. All these theatrics was making it seem worse than it really was.

"As you wish." Aramis opened the door with flourish. Inside, D'Artagnan saw a number of haphazardly arranged small kitchen appliances. Some rested outside of their boxes, others looked as if they'd never been opened.

"Yes, my young friend," Aramis began, the arm back around his shoulder, "our Athos has an unhealthy addiction to infomercials."

"He's rather partial to the food ones," Porthos added.

"They are the most interesting ones," Athos said.

"This is the secret? Why?"

"Why a secret or why does he buy the appliances," Porthos asked.

D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders. He'd questioned the sanity of the men over the past few months, but now he really was wondering what he was getting himself into.

"He can't cook," Porthos said finally.

"Well, he's never needed to," D'Artagnan said. He knew Athos came from a wealthy family.

"It's not that," Aramis said. He'd moved to lean against the opened door.

"What then?"

"I wanted to learn to cook," Athos explained. "My parents wanted me to, especially when they learned I didn't want to continue in the family business."

"So, you can cook?"

"No. I was kicked out of class, banned from the community center."

"For what?"

"Setting the kitchen on fire making toast."

"That can happen to anyone."

"On four separate occasions."

"Four different times?" D'Artagnan couldn't believe it. He'd seen this man take down criminals without breaking a sweat and he couldn't make toast without setting things on fire.

"It shouldn't have been a surprise really. His parents long since banned him from their kitchen after he damaged it badly enough a few times to need a full remodel," Porthos said.

"Now at least one of those times mother just decided she wanted something different. The damage wasn't that bad. Just some singeing," Athos retorted.

"That's not what she told me."

Athos glared at the man.

"After he nearly set the kitchen on fire here microwaving his dinner, we decided enough was enough and moved in," Aramis said with a smirk.

"Now, you know that's not completely true," Athos said.

"No, we were just about to be evicted from our place," Porthos said. "Not by our own doing, necessarily. Our police work bled over into our private lives a few too many times and the landlord got tired of the danger we were bringing into the quiet area. It really was for the best."

"So, that's the reason for the instructions on all of the containers and plates in the fridge."

"Yes, we'd rather he not burn down the kitchen. It's already had one remodel."

D'Artagnan gave Athos a pointed look. The man just shrugged his shoulders, not quite embarrassed, but resigned.

"He tried using one of these devices to surprise us with dinner," Porthos explained. "It was one of the grills that advertises itself as a lean, healthy cooking device. What happened, we're not sure, but Aramis and me arrived home to find Athos sitting outside, face covered with soot, clothes slightly singed, and the firefighters finishing up after putting out the fire. We were lucky it only gutted the kitchen."

"That's why he isn't supposed to buy these things?"

"Some." Aramis gave a shrug. "They're far too tempting for him and it never turns out well. But also they're just pointless purchases. Between Porthos and me we can make anything Athos' appliances can and we can make it tastier."

"I'm just trying to help. They say these things make cooking quicker."

"Are you sure you're a top-level officer," Aramis asked. Athos scowled back. D'Artagnan had to admit there was some truth there. For being in charge of the top investigative team in the taskforce, to be taken in by infomercial claims was uncharacteristically gullible.

"Look, I just want to help out. You two are always doing the cooking and baking."

"We let you do the cleaning," Porthos said.

"I load the dishwasher with supervision."

"That too," D'Artagnan said incredulously.

"No, I never set it on fire. Not even close."

"He doesn't arrange things properly to get them all clean," Aramis explained. "We're fine with the arrangement we have set up. We make the meals and you provide the food."

"And the housing," Porthos added.

"I like to help."

"You do help. You're cutting up the fruit for bread," Aramis said. Athos gave him a look that clearly said his comment wasn't helpful.

"So, what's in the package upstairs," D'Artagnan asked.

"I don't recall." Athos avoided looking at any of them.

"How much did you buy, Athos," Porthos asked as they started working their way back up to the kitchen where the mysterious box sat.

"I don't know. It was late and I haven't been sleeping well the last couple weeks, so I wasn't really keeping track. I really did just sit down to watch them so they'd put me to sleep. It usually works."

"As long as you don't use whatever you buy."

"Why keep them around if you're not using them," D'Artagnan asked.

"Keeps him from buying new ones," Aramis said.

"Unless there's a new version, then he's got to have it," Porthos added with a smile.

Back in the kitchen, Porthos grabbed a knife to cut open the box. He pushed aside the packing materials and pulled the box inside out. It was a snack sandwich maker.

"That actually looks useful," D'Artagnan said, stepping closer to examine the box.

"If you're a teenager or broke college student, perhaps. It'll liven up your sandwiches a touch, but I guarantee me and Porthos could make them better," Aramis said.

"But it even says, it takes no time at all. It would be perfect for downstairs."

"D'Artagnan, please don't encourage him." Aramis sighed. It looked like they had two infomercial-holics now. To be fair, the ads were entertaining, but the ideas they had about cooking and baking were atrocious and the appliances were just cheap gimmicks.

"Porthos, put this down in the closet." They had to get the box out of the kitchen before the other two men got any ideas. He could already see the cooking bug lighting up in Athos' face. They could only hope that D'Artagnan was better in the kitchen than Athos otherwise him and Porthos might not be enough to keep them under control.

"You want proof that we can cook those sandwiches better? We'll make them for you tonight after practice and if they're better than anything you think that contraption could make, you two have to promise not to step foot in this kitchen without us here unless it's to get a drink or heat up a meal according to package instructions."

The two exchanged glances, considering their options for a moment before agreeing to Aramis' offer. Athos knew whatever Porthos and Aramis cooked would be better and the more sensible part of him was kicking in, telling him it would be best for all if he refrained from cooking.

"And you, young man," Aramis began, pointing at D'Artagnan, "we're going to have to test your skills in the kitchen. Hopefully you're not as bad as I fear. You're young and eager, we might just be able to teach you something."

Aramis suspected it was a hopeless venture with the young man, but he needed to know what he and Porthos had to deal with, especially seeing as the man was sticking around. With any luck, he could make toast successfully.