AN: Written for Sorelh for the tumblr prompt: Leave a "Marry Me" in my ask, and I'll write a drabble about a character under the subject of wedlock [be it characters proposing to or marrying another, feel free to specify.] Basically Aramis proposing to Porthos and being adorably nervous about it.

"Aramis?" Porthos asked, watching the other man out of the corner of his eye as he wandered restlessly about the deserted armory. "Everythin' alright?"

"Of course, mon cher," Aramis said quickly, not meeting his eye. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Porthos shot a suspicious glance at him but didn't push the issue. Aramis had been acting strangely for the last week or so. Shifty, almost paranoid. And every night Porthos had gone looking for him, he'd been out.

"You gonna be around tonight?" he asked instead, watching a guilty look flash across Aramis's face. "Been missin' you, lately."

Aramis's shoulders slumped. "I've just been very busy."

"Yeah?" Porthos asked curiously. "Doin' what?"

Aramis's eyes darted up and away. "Ah, you'll see," he muttered, looking like a cornered animal. "Tonight, in fact, if you could be persuaded to come by?"

Porthos grinned. "Fair enough. Now?"

"Ah, no, no," Aramis said hurriedly. "Wait a few hours, please. There's something I need to do first, alright?"

"Easy, easy," Porthos murmured, placing his hands gently against Aramis's cheeks to try and slow the frantic flood of words. His thumbs made small circular motions against Aramis's cheeks. "I'll come by after dinner, okay?"

Aramis took a deep breath and nodded, smiling abashedly. "Perfect. Sorry about that."

Porthos chuckled. "I'll see ya later, then."

He spent the early hours of the evening gambling in his favorite tavern, and when he judged it to have been long enough, collected his winnings and made his way to Aramis's lodgings, grumbling to himself that Aramis should've picked a place nearer the garrison.

He paused at the door, struck by an odd sense of hesitation. Something, somehow, felt different tonight. Porthos never bothered to knock at Aramis's door, but tonight he lifted his hand and rapped smartly against the wood.

He was rewarded with the sound of something clattering to the ground within. "Aramis? You alright in there?"

"I'm fine!" came the somewhat desperate reply. "Just a moment!"

A minute later the door was flung open by a very harried looking Aramis. "Porthos," he said by way of greeting, and his voice had an odd, breathless quality. "Hello."

"Hello yourself," Porthos chuckled, stepping into the apartment. "What's with all the candles?"

Candles seemed to cover every available surface, winking brightly at him. "God above, Aramis, what're you wastin' all those for?"

Aramis drew himself up with a strangely determined expression. "I am no wasting them, mon cher," he said firmly. "There is a method to my madness."

Porthos glanced over at him. "Oh? What, am I bein' wooed?"

Aramis shifted, looking nervous again. "Not… not exactly. Um. Oh dear. This went better in my head."

Porthos tipped his head, watching Aramis get steadily more flustered. "Hey, what is it? What's going on?"

Aramis shifted again, hand fiddling in his pocket. "I, um, well… I wanted to ask you something."

Porthos grinned, moving to sit on the bed. "Ask away."

He expected a proposition for some unusual position or something of the sort, so the small pouch Aramis withdrew from his pocket came as something of a surprise.

"Aramis…?"

"I know we can't do it properly," Aramis said suddenly, the words spilling from his lips faster than Porthos could follow, "because we'd be, I don't know, burned at the stake, and it won't be official, and we can't wear them like normal people do, but I thought I would ask anyway, and it's okay if you don't want to, I just-"

Porthos had risen from the bed and set his hands firmly on Aramis's shoulders. "Whoa," he murmured, chuckling. "Slow down. What are you askin', exactly?"

Aramis stared at him for a moment, eyes wide with nerves, and then he upended the pouch into his palm.

Two rings glinted at him, silver against Aramis's tanned skin.

"Oh," Porthos said, utterly thrown. This was new.

"Like I said, it's alright if you don't want to," Aramis muttered nervously, half closing his fist over the bands. "But I- I want to."

"Are you askin' me to… to marry you?" Porthos asked quietly. "Because that's impossible, you know."

"I know," Aramis said quickly, flushing. "Legally, at any rate. And we could tell anyone, except maybe Athos and D'Artagnan. But I always wanted to get married. God just decided it wasn't going to be to a woman."

Aramis's smile was fragile, and Porthos realized he was still waiting for a response.

"So which one's mine, then?" he asked gruffly, and watched the trepidation burst into joy on Aramis's face.

"This one," Aramis said excitedly, pointing to the thicker of the two bands. Porthos picked it up. The underside of the band was stamped with a fleur-de-lis.

It fit the index finger of his right hand perfectly.

"Thought these were meant to go on a ring finger?" he asked, still staring at the simple band.

Aramis frowned slightly. "I thought that might be a bit too obvious. I can get another if you prefer…?"

"No," Porthos said quickly. "I like it."

He reached out and picked up Aramis's ring as well. It was slightly thinner than his own. "May I?" he asked solemnly.

Aramis nodded, dark eyes glittering in the firelight.

Porthos slipped the ring neatly over the middle finger of Aramis's left hand.

"That it, then?" he asked gruffly, trying to disguise the way his heart seemed to be swelling in his chest. He had never thought to have this.

Aramis's smirk was full of his usual confidence. "Not quite, mon cher," he purred. "I believe a kiss is the traditional way to seal the union."

Porthos grinned at him and stepped closer, tangling the fingers of his right hand with Aramis's left.

"Looks like you're stuck with me now," he murmured, and Aramis smiled.

"Gladly, mon cher," he replied, leaning in to kiss him.

It was sweet, and beautiful, and it promised forever.