"Careful," Aramis was pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to breath steadily, "Careful! It really stings."
d'Artagnan tried to stiffle a chuckle but it didn't work.
"Oi!" Aramis dropped his hand and glared at the boy, "You try being stabbed."
If anything, d'Artagnan's chuckles just got stronger, "Stabbed? Its barely a scratch."
Truth be told it was slightly more than a scratch that now decorated Aramis' side. It would require some stitching. It was caused during a sizeable scurmish just on the outskirts of Paris so they'd stopped at an inn where Porthos was now trying his best to inspect his friend's wound. Athos had been downstairs sorting out the money with the innkeeper but he soon joined his companions,
"How's the patient?" he asked upon entering the room.
"Overdramatic" d'Artagnan told him ignoring yet another glare.
Athos in turn ignored the far too gleeful Gascon and instead looked to Porthos.
"Requires a few stitches," Porthos said from his knelt down position next to Aramis.
Aramis sighed and raised his eyes towards the heavens, "Oh fresh hell- I have to let one of you near me with a needle?"
"You don't have to," Porthos shrugged, "We could let you bleed to death."
Athos sent him a look at that comment antisipating what would come and sure enough, Aramis went pale and dangerously close to throwing up.
"No. No! You have to do something. I don't want to bleed to death," Aramis all but wailed. This cause d'Artagnan to start laughing again and to tell Aramis not to be stupid; also why would he of all people believe such a thing?
Meanwhile, Athos went to stand by Porthos and leaned forward towards his ear, "Why must you insist on encouraging the theatricals?"
"'Cos its funny." Porthos smirked.
"Hmmm," Athos shook his head slighty although there was amusement dancing in his eyes. It was quite funny. It soon became clear, as they got to know Aramis, that the man did not do stoic. He could cope with any injury so long as it wasn't his own. Show him another man's blood and he would spring into action but show him his own and...
"Will someone please do something!" Aramis shouted desperately causing Porthos to flinch.
"Easy," Porthos complained, "Nearly burst my eardrum."
"d'Artganan, make yourself useful and get the sewing things ready," Athos ordered the boy before he descended into more giggles. d'Artagnan did as he was asked and retrieved Aramis' kit from a heap of his discarded things on the bed. He looked between Porthos and Athos.
"I'll do it," Athos said reaching out.
"Yes, yes," Aramis nodded solemnly, "that is the lesser of two evils."
Although he knew Aramis was right, Porthos still protested by smacking the man on the arm before standing.
"Ow!" Aramis said, sending Porthos a look that would rival a wounded puppy.
Athos rolled his eyes as he sank down to his knees in the space left by Porthos.
"Now, do we need to knock you out?" Athos asked the patient with a pointed stare.
Aramis' eyes went wide, "It won't hurt that much will it?"
d'Artagnan snorted and then plopped himself down on the other side of Aramis taking his hand, "You'll be fine."
Porthos saw the way Aramis visably calmed and sent an approving nod towards the boy. d'Artagnan just grinned wickedly and both Porthos and Athos knew he planned to not let Aramis forget this moment in future.
...20 minutes later...
"I think he broke my hand," d'Artagnan whined, "Honestly, I think one of you needs to take a look at it. It really hurts."
Athos and Porthos definitely needed more wine.