This is based on a caroling prompt given to me by LadyCavil. If you haven't read the story she wrote based on my prompt (Secret Santa), you need to. Let the holiday fun begin.

"A lovely thing about Christmas is that it's compulsory, like a thunderstorm, and we all go through it together."
Garrison Keillor, Leaving Home

CHAPTER I

It had all started out innocently enough. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis were sprawled on the sectional at d'Artagnan's apartment, watching Constance unpack the holiday lights.

"He's so cute when he's hanging mistletoe," drawled Aramis, nodding at d'Artagnan.

The young Gascon, putting up Christmas directions under Constance's careful supervision. glared at his friend. "Shut up!"

Aramis turned to Porthos, "See what I mean? He gets so feisty!"

A deep laugh rumbled from Porthos' chest. "I guess he's cute enough, but not quite my type."

"You think that's funny?" retorted d'Artagnan. "For your information, I saw Rochefort buying Alice a drink at happy hour last night."

Porthos' eyes darkened. "What did he buy her?"

"I can't remember," replied d'Artagnan airily, placing a small herd of sparkly hedgehogs under the artificial tree.

"Liar!" Porthos was bristling at the very suggestion of Rochefort romancing his crush. "Are we talking a gin and tonic, or a jello shot?"

"Gentlemen." Athos' deep voice came from far corner of the sectional, where he was perusing Aramis' magazine collection. "Enough."

"Why are you four always so prickly once the Christmas season sets in?" inquired Constance. "This is the season of joy and happiness." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss d'Artagnan, and Aramis groaned. "Pass me another beer, Athos."

"Maybe we are focused too much on ourselves," said Athos meditatively. "I admit it's difficult for me to see my ex-wife at work this time of year."

"What if we went caroling?" D'Artagnan's voice was full of enthusiasm. "Jiggety-jig..hee-haw, hee-haw…It's Dominic the Donkey…jiggety-jig, hee-haw, hee-haw, the Italian Christmas donkey!" When he was met with a series of blank looks, he directed his attention to Constance. "Come on, you know it!"

"Only because you wouldn't stop singing it last Christmas," answered Constance wearily.

"Actually, that's a great idea!" Aramis' face brightened. "Anne's non-profit—"

He was suddenly drowned out by a chorus of comments from his friends.

"She does great work!" he answered defensively. "And they need carolers and a Pancho Claus for the Christmas pageant at the daycare there."

"I volunteer you for Pancho Claus," called out Constance with a smile.

"Maybe I'm just a kid from inner city Baltimore, but what the hell is Pancho Claus?" demanded Porthos.

"My friend, if you are going to live in South Texas for any period of time, you need to familiarize yourself with the local traditions—one of which is Pancho Claus."

"Aramis is the very picture of the man," said Athos, peering over the latest edition of GQ. "Black hair, black beard, mustache. Pancho Claus wears a hat-"

"Sometimes it's just a sombrero!" d'Artagnan began to rummage through the closet. "I know I have a great one in here from my last birthday. It lights up and everything!"

"I think I'll pass." Aramis took a swig from his beer. "But I did agree to play Pancho Claus. I already ordered the zoot suit."

"You bought one?" Porthos was incredulous. "Why didn't you borrow the one Athos has?"

Athos' blue eyes fixed on the big man. "Mine is purple. Pancho Claus doesn't do anything except red. Aramis, are you aware that there is a right and wrong way to slick back your hair?"

"Where have you been living? Under a rock? Of course there is a right way to do it! I'm exhibit A!" d'Artagnan puffed out his chest, turning to Constance for affirmation. "And why do you have a zoot suit, Athos?

"It's all down to Ninon and her Party Army," he replied, then turned the pages of the magazine, anxious to change the topic. "Apparently the bespoke mattress of the future is here…and it's damn cozy. Why did I not know about this?"

"Who cares about that? Dude, check out the article on page 43! Mark Wahlberg's sneaker collection is worth over 100K! Can you imagine?" d'Artagnan's voice was full of admiration.

Constance shot him a withering look. "Can you focus? I swear, if this keeps up, I'm breaking out the tequila."

"Why wait? The lady next door has already started on her tamales. She sent over two dozen this morning. She said I remind her of a man she fell in love with in Nuevo Laredo when she was 18."

"If we start in on the tequila, I want input on the Christmas songs we'll be singing," growled Porthos. "And Dominic the Donkey will not make the list. If I'm caroling, this is going to be a classy affair. I have a buddy who runs a tuxedo rental shop. I bet he could give us a deal."

Athos lifted an eyebrow. "I do not sing in public. Period."

Porthos turned and gave him a withering look. "This is not Royal Albert Hall, and the Queen will not be in attendance. Get over it."

Aramis glanced at Athos. "Anne did mention Ninon is in charge of the decorations. Did you know she runs the after-school empowerment program for girls?"

"She did mention that." Athos' voice was cool. "Do we already have a date in mind for this extravaganza?"

"December 12th," replied Aramis. "Does that mean you're in?"

"Perhaps." Athos turned the page, then glanced up. "Did someone mention tamales?"