Authors note: Hi all, Anon here. This is my first story in literally years. It's unbetaed so all mistakes are mine but if anybody fancies betaing this or any othersthen I'd be grateful as my friend who normally does it for me is going through a rough patch and cannot manage it right now. Anyway, that's all. Enjoy (hopefully ).
I have no specific time frame in mind but certainly first series before D'Artagnan gets his commission and after Lebarge so I think like episode 4 onwards? (Please excuse as I can't quite remember which episode was which)
"I didn't say he doesn't deserve it, I just don't see why it should always have to come from me!"
They were sat around a table near the stairs in the smoky darkness of a taproom some two days ride from Paris, their room for the night having been procured and paid for on their arrival. They were tired, the warmth from the hearth had yet to penetrate their frigid limbs, and d'Artagnan was in disgrace.
"Because you're the one who always –" Aramis broke off, a distinct flush staining his cheeks. "I don't suppose you feel like stepping up?" he grumbled, putting an abrupt end to Porthos' sniggering.
"You know he doesn't," Athos said sternly, his hand resting placatingly upon Porthos' forearm, "and you know why."
Aramis had the good grace to look mildly apologetic though his scowl soon returned and he resumed his pacing.
"I just don't see why it has to be me!" he cried, aiming a vicious kick at a nearby chair earning him a furious stare from their host who stood some way off polishing tankards with a filthy rag and attempting in vain to appear as though he was not eavesdropping.
"I'm out. Athos is dead on his feet. And he can hardly give himself a hiding, can he?" Porthos pointed out, casting an amused glance between the two of them. "Well," he smirked, "I mean I suppose he could –"
"Don't."
"Porthos, that isn't funny."
Athos shared an uncomfortable look with Aramis, both of them momentarily drawn into their shared past and the darkness they had drawn each other from. With a heavy sigh, Athos relented.
"Very well. Fine," he said, setting his drink down and making ready to heave himself out of his chair. "If you're going to be petulant about it..."
Aramis' feeling of triumph was fleeting. There was a displeased purse of Porthos' lips as the weariness in Athos' countenance made itself known and he wavered slightly as he stood. Guilt flooded through Aramis. The boy needed seeing to – and soon – and, though he found the idea distasteful and somewhat alarming, Aramis was indeed the only one either capable of doing so tonight.
"Oh, sit down," he said resignedly, pushing Athos back into his seat. "I never said I wouldn't deal with him."
Athos smiled gratefully.
"Good man."
"Yes, yes. I am the very best of men; this we know already."
"That you are." Athos inclined his head in acknowledgement, raising his cup once more in salute of Aramis' sacrifice.
"You sure about this?" Porthos smirked into his drink. "We'd hate to think we'd forced you into it."
"Bollocks. You knew I would as soon as Athos cried off."
"True."
"Anyway, we can't have you doing it can we? Not with your delicate sensibilities."
"Aramis..." Athos drew out the name, warning evident in his tone. Aramis, when forced to do something he did not wish to do, could be at best peevish and at worst downright cruel. It was best to cut his scathing remarks off before he got into the swing of them. Besides, Athos reflected, his friend had brought this on himself.
None of them were particularly pleased with the youngest of their group but when Aramis had pulled Athos aside and told him in a furious whisper "This cannot go unanswered, Athos; if you don't do it, I will" Athos had nodded thoughtfully and taken him at his word. It was hardly Athos' fault that Aramis had yet to realise that his impetuous words when angered brought him nothing but unpleasantness.
But though Aramis was clearly reluctant, it was borne only from his anxiety, and Athos – indeed, Porthos too – was not blind to that. Aramis was unused to what would be required of him having never been in such a delicate position before, and his fears of inadequacy were causing him to strike out. He would, of course, admit to neither. But they knew that if Aramis truly objected then he would say so in no uncertain terms –loudly – and so until he did so both Athos and Porthos were content to tease and beleaguer him into doing precisely what he had threatened earlier in the day.
"Suppose we've left him to stew long enough." Aramis downed what was left of his drink. "But I intend to make it clear that I am doing this under duress."
"Don't you dare!" Both Athos and Porthos ordered sharply. Jesting or no, Aramis of all people knew the agony it would cause if d'Artagnan were to think Aramis' care for him stemmed only from obedience to the two of them.
Aramis tutted, his final attempt to come through the ordeal and still hope to keep the boy on side thwarted.
"Aramis," Athos commanded in a tone which brooked no arguments. "No."
Aramis frowned irritably, drawn between obedience and the urge to argue simply because he could – it was, after all, not his backside on the line tonight. He held Athos' gaze for a few seconds then, defeated, lowered his eyes.
"Yes, yes," he shrugged coolly, "United front etcetera, I know." He glanced over his shoulder towards d'Artagnan for a moment heaving a great sigh. "Wish me luck."
"Always do." Porthos clapped him on the arm and gave him a slight shove in the right direction.
"Absolutely not," Athos protested, entirely feigned indignation darkening his face. "Nobody ever wishes meluck – with either of you."
"Now who's being petulant?"
Aramis took half a step then hesitated, hands tapping fitfully at his sides.
"You'll be fine," Athos murmured, his amusement vanishing in the face of Aramis' continued anxiety, "Both of you will be fine. Have a little faith."
Suddenly huffing a large breath, Aramis collected himself. He nodded once to them both, his face now the picture of determination and his shoulders set. Unseen by him, Porthos and Athos exchanged a look of fond pride in their friend.
"d'Artagnan!" Aramis barked, turning on his heel and making for the staircase that led from the taproom to the few rooms above, "With me."
d'Artagnan, who had until then been hovering nervously nearby – though not so close that he could be accused of eavesdropping – quickly jumped to attention and began to follow. His steps faltered then stopped completely as he belatedly realised that it had been Aramis rather than Athos who had summoned him.
"Him?" he asked Athos, the question coming out far ruder than he had intended.
Athos said nothing, merely tilted his head back and glared disapprovingly back at the young man. Finding d'Artagnan's disquiet rather satisfying, Porthos cocked his head and sucked air through his teeth, tsk-tsking at their youngest friend's behaviour.
"I didn't mean... It's just I thought...I mean, is he..." d'Artagnan stammered, suddenly finding full sentences to be beyond him. "I thought you would want to talk to me," he finished weakly.
"Well," Aramis interrupted before Athos could answer, descending several steps once more and looming expectantly against the bannister. Credit where credit was due, Porthos decided, for a man who had taken so much persuading in the first place, Aramis certainly looked every bit as menacing as Athos usually did in such situations. "You are certainly in need of a good talking to, but Athos is not the only one capable of giving it to you."
"Big talk..." Porthos muttered to Athos, the two of them grinning into their cups.
d'Artagnan stared up at Aramis, his eyes wide. "Are you serious?" he asked, suddenly dropping his eyes to Athos once more much to Aramis' exasperation. "Aramis?"
Athos turned in his seat and looked pointedly up at Aramis, irritation (on Aramis' behalf as much as his own) beginning to outweigh his amusement at the situation. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the deference they all showed him – d'Artagnan even more so than the others – it made for quicker thinking in the field if he knew they would follow his lead rather than argue the best course amongst themselves. But as he had told Aramis earlier, he simply did not see why the only source of discipline should be him. Porthos...he could understand Porthos' unwillingness; though he had once seen to Aramis, the entire matter was a disaster that had very nearly cost all three of them their friendship and despite Aramis' beleaguering it was a situation that none of them wished to revisit. Besides which, for whatever reason known only to d'Artagnan, he had never seemed to take issue with being ordered about by Porthos. But when it came to Aramis... d'Artagnan had initially shown a certain admiration of him too but had, at some point over the last few months, seemed to come to the conclusion that despite his vastly superior military experience, Aramis' authority over him was flimsy at best.
"Aramis." Athos agreed at length. "And we've all had trouble enough from you today, don't you think?" Aramis would have plenty of time to assert his authority when he finally got d'Artagnan alone and where he needed him so Athos saw no harm in helping him along beforehand. "Go on."
"I think he's waiting for you, Boy," Porthos added, also beginning to lose patience with their young brother's impudence. "Do you really wanna try his patience right now?"
His blush visible even in the flickering light of the taproom, d'Artagnan took a few more steps, still wondering if they were all about to burst out laughing. Submitting to Athos' correction was one thing; Athos was after all accepted as their commanding officer when away from the garrison. Had it been Porthos he may still have been able to submit to it without voicing his incredulity as he had done. Porthos was big. Really big. And if he were of a mind to knock the waywardness out of him, d'Artagnan doubted Porthos would have much of a struggle on his hands. As it was, he had never shown any inclination to take him in hand as Athos did. Aramis though? The youngest after d'Artagnan, Aramis himself was often subject to Athos' displeasure for some folly or other – and hadn't that been an enlightening, if incredibly uncomfortable discussion? - the idea of Aramisactually being the one to mete this out had never crossed his mind. Aramis was his ally against the others' generally more austere natures; his confidante and co-conspirator in all things be they romantic, spiritual, mischievous or otherwise. Aramis was not supposed to think his behaviour worthy of punishment.
D'Artagnan looked from Porthos to Athos, and finally to where Aramis still stood awaiting him on the staircase.
"We did warn you," Porthos said without sympathy, shuffling cards before dealing himself and Athos in.
"Go on," Athos prompted, without looking up. "Get it over with."
Trailing behind Aramis as he ascended the stairs, d'Artagnan went to do just that.