Disclaimer: The Musketeers are not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.
Spoilers: slight mentions of events in 1.01 Friends and Enemies.
A/N: This idea popped into my head while re-watching the episode…
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"Game of cards? First King wins." – Porthos to d'Artagnan, 1.01 Friends and Enemies.
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D'Artagnan let his eyes wander to where Athos is sitting yet again. He honestly doesn't know if he should be disgusted or impressed by how much wine the older man could ingest and still be conscious. At this point though, Athos was leaning heavily on the table and looking like he was about five minutes from passing out.
He returns his attention to the card game and catches Porthos's eye.
"Need help carrying him home?" he inquired with a nod towards Athos. It didn't seem right to leave the bigger man with the sole burden of carrying home an insensible man.
Porthos's gaze shifts towards his friend, taking in Athos's state of inebriation. "Nah. Probably wouldn't be a good idea in his state. He might not remember that you're not trying to kill 'im anymore."
"Right," d'Artagnan agrees, bowing his head briefly in shame at his previous actions.
He had been told more than once that his hotheadedness would wind up getting someone killed, and he had been much too close to proving his father right. Perhaps that was why he felt so uneasy at leaving Athos alone to drink himself unconscious after almost dying earlier; he knew Porthos was Athos's friend and had the other man's back, but still…
It was time for him to play his next card.
"This pack of cards seems different than the ones I'm used to," d'Artagnan said casually while reordering the cards in his hand.
"Yeah?" Porthos replied, looking up from his cards. "How so?"
He shrugged and shifted a little in his seat. "It seems like there are fewer cards in this pack."
His companion, who was just taking a drink of wine, choked on the liquid and coughed to clear his throat.
"Are you alright, Porthos?" he queried, concerned for his new friend.
The man across the table from him cleared his throat before replying, "Fi—fine. Swallowed wrong."
D'Artagnan acknowledged the explanation with a nod.
Leaning back in his chair, he looks Porthos in the eye as he begins to speak. "One of my fath—," before pausing as he's briefly overwhelmed by sadness over his father's recent death.
Taking a drink of his wine, he tries again, "One of my father's favorite pastimes was to play cards – all types of card games. We even had several multi-year long tournaments going on with some of the games." He chuckled at a flash of memory over one such tournament where cheating and dirty tricks had become the norm. "I've lost track of how many packs of cards we've worn out."
"Sounds like you two were close," Porthos said, looking sheepish and a little out of sorts.
"Yes," he replied barely able to get the word passed the lump that had formed in his throat. He averted his gaze to check on Athos's progress in the older man's attempt to drink himself unconscious; it looked like it wouldn't be long now.
He caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye, but ignored it, choosing to take another moment to rein his emotions back in.
"Your turn, d'Artagnan," Porthos said, bringing his attention back to the game.
D'Artagnan looked at his cards and made a show of trying to decide what his next move should be. He already had a good set of cards though not necessarily a winning hand yet; he had a feeling he should take a card.
"I think I will try my luck on the next card," he declared, tossing a coin down on the table and picking a card up from the top of the stock pile.
As luck would have it, the card he'd chosen was a King. He reordered his cards and discarded the one he didn't need.
Laying his cards down on the table with a smile, he announced, "I believe this hand is mine."
Porthos tosses his cards down with a huff before smiling broadly and laughing. "That's it for me. I better get Athos home before I have to carry dead weight."
D'Artagnan began collecting his winnings as he watched Porthos drag Athos out of his seat and out the door.
He and Porthos had been playing cards for a while, and he had definitely noticed that he had begun losing more and more money with each hand. Having been distracted by Athos's drinking, it had taken him far too long to notice that Porthos had been hoarding the Kings.
The young Gascon hadn't been lying about all the hours spent playing cards with his father, though he felt a little guilty for using the anecdote to get what he had wanted – Athos out of the tavern and back home to hopefully get the rest he'd been denied at the Chatelet.
And if he'd come out ahead in terms of the money wagered, then who was he to complain?
He laughed out loud as he made his own way out of the tavern, making a mental note to buy Porthos a drink next time they met up.
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The end.
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A/N: I know a lot of card games and yet I still have absolutely no idea what one d'Artagnan and Porthos were going to play, so I decided to make some things up to suit the story.
As of writing this, only the first episode of the first season has aired where I live, so some things might have been OOC. I just thought it would be fun if d'Artagnan was a card sharp/shark… :o)
I had no beta for this story and apologize for any lingering errors.
Thanks for reading!