Anyone remember when there were lots of fics based on some prompt (probably from tumblr?) about breaking into the wrong apartment while drunk? Here's another one, well after the craze ended.
The tag "minor panic attack" references a moment when Aramis starts panicking over a memory. It's very minor - he gets a bit upset, but Porthos helps calm him down before it actually becomes a panic attack. There's not much, but I tagged it just in case.
Title comes from a line Athos says in the original Three Musketeers book by Alexandre Dumas: "Eh, gentlemen, let us reckon upon accidents! Life is a chaplet of little miseries which the philosopher counts with a smile. Be philosophers, as I am, gentlemen; sit down at the table and let us drink. Nothing makes the future look so bright as surveying it through a glass of chambertin."
Disclaimer: I don't own The Musketeers.
Drinking alone, Aramis decided, was no fun at all.
Well, perhaps it was a little fun, but no where near as much fun as drinking with friends.
His plan had been to go drinking with Athos, but he had some sort of work to do (boring), so he'd canceled. The girl Aramis had been playfully flirting with turned out to have a boyfriend (how ironic; so did he), so that didn't last very long. So Aramis was lonely, drunk, and ready to go home.
Except his apartment was so very far away. The good news was that Athos' apartment was much closer. Aramis would just crash there. Athos would surely let him do that. Such things had to be part of the boyfriend code or something.
But Athos hated answering the door when he was in the middle of something, and going up to the door was so boringly mundane anyway. So - and this made perfect sense in Aramis' drunk mind, although later he'd wonder why the hell he thought it was a good idea - Aramis decided the obvious solution to that was to climb up the fire escape and climb in through Athos' window. Clearly, a fool-proof plan.
Athos' apartment was far less fancy than the average person would have expected it to be, considering he was a de la Fére, after all, but Aramis knew that he hated accepting money from his parents. His apartment was almost totally paid for by Athos' own wages from his job. Neither Athos' nor Aramis' apartment was much bigger than the other, but they went to Aramis' more often; when buying furniture, he had splurged on a huge, incredibly-comfortable bed. Yeah, it meant he had a folding table and chairs in his kitchen for a long time before he was able to afford real ones, but it was so worth it. Athos' apartment looked exactly like something out of an IKEA catalogue, mostly because he had gone through and picked out furniture all from one IKEA line. Aramis insisted it was boring to do so - his own apartment was a lot more mix-and-match - but Athos declared that IKEA wouldn't have made lines of furniture if they weren't meant to go together. He made the final call, as it was his apartment.
On his third jump, Aramis grabbed the bottom of the fire escape ladder at Athos' apartment building, pulling himself up with his arms until a could climb the ladder properly. Apparently his strength and abilities didn't desert him while drunk, which made it much easier to perform stupid drunken actions. Perhaps that was a bad thing, actually.
Aramis climbed up the fire escape until he reached Athos' window. To his surprise, it was closed but unlocked - he thought Athos was more cautious than that. Aramis opened the window, almost fell through it, and staggered over to the couch. It seemed Athos was asleep, which was also surprising, but Aramis thought nothing of it as he flopped down face-first on the couch and immediately fell asleep himself.
Aramis woke up feeling as if something small and probably fluffy had crawled into his mouth sometime during the night and died.
Also, his head was pounding as if he'd been hit by a truck, and he really had to pee.
Aramis groaned and tried to punch his pillow into the right shape before realizing it wasn't his pillow. He wasn't in his bed. For a moment, he was shocked, then he remembered his plan to go to Athos' apartment.
Perhaps Athos would be annoyed that Aramis had broken into his apartment last night while drunk, but honestly, Athos had done much weirder things when he was the one who was drunk, so he could deal.
In other news, apparently Athos had redecorated. And remodeled his kitchen. And gotten all new furniture. All in the last twenty-four hours since Aramis had last been over.
Shit. This wasn't Athos' apartment.
"Um…" an unfamiliar voice stated. Aramis jerked upright, then groaned and doubled over, clutching his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Moving was bad. He really hated hangovers.
"If you want to steal something, I don't have much, and you're doing a pretty bad job of it," the voice added, sounding amused.
"You're not Athos," Aramis whined. The stranger laughed.
"He's one floor up."
"Damn it," Aramis swore. Apparently he couldn't count while drunk. Who knew? "I'm really sorry," he added, cracking his eyes open and looking at the person whose apartment he'd broken into.
Oh God, he was really hot. For a few moments, Aramis just stared. The guy had dark, smooth skin, unmarred except by a scar over one eye. Aramis hadn't thought he was really into scars before, but now he apparently was. The guy's hair was dark and curly and looked perfect for tugging, and he had a gold earring in one ear.
"Have I got something on my face?" the guy asked, frowning slightly. Aramis blinked rapidly, trying to get his brain to reboot.
"I'm not entirely awake, sorry," Aramis replied, running a hand through his hair. He noticed the stranger's eyes tracking the movement before snapping back to his face and barely hid a smirk; his hair was pretty fabulous. "Also, fair warning, I'm pretty hungover."
"I can see that," the guy replied, grinning. "My name is Porthos, by the way."
"I'm Aramis. It's lovely to meet you, Porthos." Aramis treated Porthos to his most dazzling smile. "And I'm sorry about all this. I'll just go upstairs and get out of your hair."
"It's nine in the morning on a Saturday," Porthos countered. "Doesn't Athos teach fencing or something on Saturday mornings? I swear we talked about that one time."
Porthos had a very good point.
"Shit," Aramis swore, raking his fingers through his hair again. Athos wouldn't be back until noon at the earliest. "I'll go back to my own apartment, then." It was tragically far away, being across town, but Aramis supposed he could manage it.
"You can stay here for a bit," Porthos offered. Aramis looked up at him in surprise. Had his dazzling look worked even better than he'd thought? "I mean, for breakfast and a coffee or something. It doesn't really look like you're able to really go anywhere right now."
"Well, thank you, then," Aramis replied, standing up. Suddenly and abruptly reminded of his need to urinate, he added, "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"
A few minutes later, after relieving himself and splashing some water on his face (and fixing his hair), Aramis left the bathroom and immediately followed the smell of eggs into the kitchen. Porthos gestured at the counter.
"Water and a painkiller for you. I figured you'd need them."
"Marry me," Aramis replied in a completely serious tone, swallowing the pill and the whole glass of water in one gulp. Porthos shifted awkwardly, apparently not used to people randomly proposing. With a physique like his, Aramis found that rather surprising.
"I hope you like scrambled eggs," Porthos added, gesturing at the frying pan in front of him. "And coffee is brewing."
"Thus far, you're shaping up to be a better boyfriend than Athos is," Aramis told Porthos as he went over to the coffee maker, planning to stand in front of it in wait until the coffee was ready. "He never makes me breakfast."
Aramis saw Porthos' face fall before he could hide it. "You're dating Athos?" he asked in a casual tone.
"Yeah," Aramis replied with a shrug. "But I'm poly. We're not necessarily exclusive."
"Oh." Porthos went back to his eggs. After a moment, he asked in a tone that didn't sound as casual as before, "Is Athos poly too?"
"We've been wondering about adding a third," Aramis replied honestly. Perhaps this was a little more than a usual conversation with a stranger, but Porthos was nice and attractive and, it seemed, attracted to both Aramis and Athos. Aramis couldn't imagine Athos would have a problem with this.
"Oh." Porthos looked a little stunned, but definitely not in a bad way. Aramis dropped him another playful wink before pouring himself some of the freshly-brewed coffee. He filled the other mug for Porthos.
"Milk and sugar?"
"Neither," Porthos replied. Aramis slid the mug across the counter to him. "But milk is in the fridge and sugar is in the cabinet over the coffee maker." Aramis prepared his coffee - Porthos didn't make the judgement Athos always made and say it looked disgustingly sweet, but perhaps that was because he was turned away - and took a sip, immediately feeling better.
"Anything I can do to help?" he asked, looking around the kitchen. Porthos gestured with his spatula.
"Plates are in there, silverware in the drawer above it. Can you set the table?"
"With pleasure," Aramis replied with a playful little bow, doing as Porthos asked. He set the table as Porthos finished with the eggs, bringing them over. Aramis was itching to dig in, but he did have some manners, even if he didn't often use them; he let Porthos serve himself first and didn't start eating until Porthos did.
"Are you a god?" he asked upon tasting the eggs. "These are delicious. I need you to make these for me every day."
"I don't know about the whole god thing, but I'm willing to cook for you more," Porthos replied. With a bit of a smirk, he added, "For a price."
"I will give you as many blowjobs as you want," Aramis replied immediately. Porthos choked on his eggs.
"Shit!" Aramis hissed, jerking upright as his medical training took over. "Keep coughing; it'll help you to clear your airway. I'm so sorry." As long as Porthos was coughing, Aramis knew his airway wasn't entirely blocked; it was when the person stopped making noise that the danger increased. Judging that Porthos could probably handle this without help, Aramis got him a glass of water, expecting he'd want one.
"Drink it slowly," he suggested, watching Porthos with no small amount of guilt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't make sudden sex jokes when people are eating. Athos has tried to beat the idea of timing into my head, but I'm afraid I'm not the best with it."
"It was just a bit of a shock," Porthos replied, offering Aramis a slight grin. "But if the offer still stands…"
Aramis burst out laughing. "I like you," he declared. Porthos raised his scarred eyebrow.
"Was it in question before? Normally I make sure I like someone before I offer them blowjobs."
"Do you like me?" Aramis asked flirtatiously. Porthos' flush was clear even with his dark skin tone.
"Would I have made you breakfast if I didn't?" he countered without skipping a beat. Aramis was about to flirt back - he was the flirting master - when his phone rang.
"Shit, it's Athos," he told Porthos, getting up from the table and moving across the room for some privacy. "I've gotta take this. I'll be right back."
"Aramis?" Athos asked as Aramis picked up. "I just saw the text you sent me last night. I thought I should check to make sure you were alright." Aramis vaguely remembered the text Athos was talking about; he was pretty sure it had been a plea for Athos to come out and drink with him, although considering how drunk he was, it had probably been spelled horribly and fairly nonsensical.
"I'm fine," Aramis replied dismissively. In the interest of full disclosure, he added, "I tried to break into your apartment through the window last night, but I ended up in the apartment below you. But it's okay. He's nice."
"Please tell me you're joking," Athos stated after a pause, but there wasn't much hope in his voice.
"Porthos is being a perfect gentleman," Aramis countered.
"Are you still at his apartment?" Athos demanded, sounding shocked.
"He invited me to stay for breakfast! Also, why didn't you tell me your neighbor was so hot?"
"I am far too tired and sober to be having this conversation right now," Athos groaned. "We'll talk after I get back, alright?"
"Sounds good," Aramis replied cheerfully. In the background, he could hear someone calling Athos' name. "Oh, and by the way, I think Porthos is into both of us. I told him I'm poly and that we're thinking about a third and he seemed interested."
"Aramis!" Athos hissed in a choked voice. "I'm about to teach children! I can't go out there thinking about…that!"
"Porthos is hot," Aramis replied dreamily. "Well, good luck with the lessons."
"I hate you," Athos groaned. Aramis blew an exaggerated kiss at the phone loud enough that Athos could hear it.
"Love you too!" Athos hung up before Aramis could with a grumble, leaving Aramis giggling on the other end.
"Athos say something funny?" Porthos asked as Aramis returned to the table, tucking his phone in his pocket.
"It's not so much what he says and more how he reacts to what I say," Aramis replied, sitting back down. "It's lots of fun to rile him up."
"He always struck me as too intimidating to rile up," Porthos remarked with a shrug. "He seems like the kind of guy who would kill you for messing with him, and no one would ever find your body."
Aramis burst out laughing. "I'll be sure to tell Athos you said that. He tries to cultivate that sort of a look, you see. But I've known him for too long for it to fool me. He's a softy at heart. He's just slow to warm up to people." Aramis didn't mention why that was the case - Athos was afraid of getting hurt or losing those he cared about, as both had happened in the past - as the information seemed too personal to divulge to a stranger, even one as charming as Porthos.
The next few minutes were spent in silence as Porthos, from the look of it, turned the information over in his head. Aramis silently mourned the loss of a perfectly good flirting opportunity. Still, Athos wouldn't be back for another two hours or so. Aramis had time.
Breakfast finished in silence. Aramis took Porthos' plate as he stood, crossing to the sink and grabbing a sponge.
"You don't have to wash the dishes," Porthos protested immediately. "Really, it's fine."
"You don't have a dishwasher," Aramis countered. "And you cooked breakfast, so I wash the dishes. That's how it works."
"I'll dry, then," Porthos compromised, treating Aramis to a lovely smile as he grabbed the towel. Aramis began washing the pan Porthos had used for the eggs, aware that Porthos was watching him.
"How long have you and Athos known each other?" Porthos asked casually. Aramis bit the inside of his cheek to hide his smile.
"A few years now," he replied. "We met at a time that was…rough for both of us and we helped each other through it." For Athos, it had been right after his ex-wife had been sentenced to life in prison. For Aramis, it had been right after he'd gotten back from his tour of duty in Afghanistan. Aramis constantly thanked God that he and Athos had met each other when they did; he didn't even want to think about how their lives could have been had they been alone in the aftermaths of their personal traumas.
"And you've been dating ever since?" Porthos finished. Aramis chuckled.
"Honestly, he hated me when we met, and I wasn't all that fond of him either. We met at a crime scene, actually. Athos teaches fencing on Saturdays, but during the week, he's a police officer. I'm an EMT." Amaris chuckled. "He wasn't all that enthused on me giving him advice on how to do his job, even when he found out I'd been in the army."
"You're a veteran?" Porthos asked curiously. Aramis nodded.
"I served in Afghanistan. I was a field medic, which means that I always hold out longer than any of the other EMTs at a gruesome scene." Aramis looked at Porthos curiously. "What about you? What do you do?"
"I'm a psychologist," Porthos replied. "Well, sort of a social worker, actually. I work with kids, mostly."
"What sort of work?" Aramis asked, the story he was telling forgotten in favor of finding out a new one. They had finished the dishes; Aramis leaned back against the counter, looking curiously at Porthos.
"I help kids with issues. Homeless ones, mostly, or kids who were homeless." Porthos shrugged, looking self-conscious. "I never knew my dad, and my mom died when I was five, so I know what it's like to be on your own. I almost joined the military too, so I could afford going to college. But then I got a scholarship instead." Aramis nodded thoughtfully, impressed. Porthos studied him for a moment. "Why did you go into the military?"
"My parents wanted me to be a priest," Aramis replied, shrugging. "I was never that interested, but it might have happened anyway, just to make them happy. But then there was a…scandal, I suppose you could call it, and I needed an escape, so I signed up for the army. I showed enough promise to go through the training to be a field medic, then I was shipped out to Afghanistan." Isabelle was the scandal; Aramis had accidentally impregnated his girlfriend and was ordered to marry her by both his parents and hers. Then Isabelle had miscarried and disappeared, and no amount of begging would convince her parents to tell Aramis where she was. That was when he left for the army.
"When did you and Athos stop hating each other and realize you were perfect together?" Porthos asked, understanding not to pry. Aramis laughed.
"I don't know that I'd go so far as to say we're perfect together, but to answer your question, it was after the idiot almost got himself killed." Aramis could remember the moment as if it were hours before and not years. "He and I had moved from actively hating each other's guts to more friendly banter by that point, but we weren't all that close. I had a huge crush on him, but I didn't think he felt the same way."
"Who wouldn't like you?" Porthos asked. Judging by his expression, the words slipped out without him meaning for them to do so. Aramis just grinned.
"You're sweet. Anyway, Athos was stupid and got himself entangled in a hostage situation. I was already there, and I saw-" Aramis took a shaky breath, not wanting to panic in front of Porthos. His hands gripped the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles went white. "I saw the gunman shoot Athos at point-blank range. Or, at least, I thought I did. Athos fell and there was blood and-" Aramis chuckled weakly, trying to lighten the mood. "The gunman was running and everyone was shooting at him and missing, so I grabbed a gun from a nearby policeman and shot the gunman through the head." Aramis' hands were shaking, despite his iron grip on the counter. "I have good enough aim that I could have been a sniper back in the army; I knew I could make the shot, and I did. I had to do it, for Athos."
"You did the right thing," Porthos said quietly, leaning over and prying Aramis' hands off the counter. He took them in his own, his mere presence helping.
"And then Athos, that little shit, got up," Aramis whispered, his voice shaking. "He had moved out of the way just in time. The shot had barely more than grazed him. He was fine. I was furious and shaking and I grabbed the bastard and kissed him right there, full on the lips."
"And what did Athos say?" Porthos asked quietly. Aramis huffed out a laugh.
"He said he'd been wanting to do that since he first saw me, and then he kissed me again." There was a long pause.
"And to think," Porthos finally replied, "we met because you drunkenly broke into my apartment, thinking it was Athos'." Aramis couldn't help but laugh at that, but his humor was mildly tinged with hysteria. Porthos seemed to be able to tell - he was a psychologist; of course he could tell - and pulled Aramis over to the couch, never letting go of his hands. He sat down next to him, not complaining at all when Aramis immediately cuddled up into his side. Physical comfort always helped Aramis the most, and Porthos seemed more than willing to give it, considering the warm arm he draped around Aramis' shoulders.
"I'm sorry I asked," Porthos said quietly. Aramis shook his head.
"I chose to tell the story. And I'm glad you know." Aramis snuggled up against Porthos. "And this wins me free cuddles."
"Ah, so it was all a ploy for free cuddles?" Porthos asked playfully, his scarred eyebrow raised. Aramis smiled angelically.
"If I say yes, will you still keep cuddling with me?"
"Do you think I'm likely to stop?" Porthos countered, tightening his arm around Aramis' shoulders.
"Mmm. You're warm," Aramis murmured. "Athos always runs a little cold, so we always need a blanket when we cuddle."
"When's he going to be back?" Porthos asked. Aramis looked over at the clock.
"Probably not for another two hours or so," he replied. "I can get out of your hair if you want."
"Or we could watch a movie together," Porthos countered. Aramis raised an eyebrow. "Just a suggestion. You don't have to if you don't want to."
"What movie are you suggesting?" Aramis asked. He was instantly rewarded by Porthos' bright smile.
"I've got a whole shelf over there," he replied, gesturing at the TV cabinet. "What do you want to watch?"
Aramis stood and walked over to the cabinet, looking at the options. "Oh, by the way," he added in a casual voice, not wanting to freak Porthos out, "just to make sure we're on the same page right now, are you considering this to be a sort of date?"
Porthos made a noise that sounded vaguely like he was choking. Considering that had already happened earlier and Aramis wasn't exactly looking for it to happen twice in one morning, he turned around to see that Porthos' face was red enough that Aramis had a fleeting thought about his brain overheating.
"Do you?" he finally asked. Aramis shrugged.
"I'm fine either way, honestly. I mean, if it's a date, I'll have to introduce you to Athos and we'll have to talk about it, but it's not impossible. Athos and I have had this discussion. I told you we were looking for a third."
"I may be interested in filling that position," Porthos replied slowly. Aramis beamed.
"Wonderful! We'll have to talk more about it when Athos gets back. Until then…" Aramis plucked a movie from the shelf. "Princess Diaries?"
"Guilty pleasure," Porthos replied with a slightly-embarrassed shrug. Aramis grinned.
"Nothing to feel guilty about, my dear. It's one of my favorites. Shall we?"
The movie was just ending when there was a knock on the door. "That'll be Athos," Aramis sighed, standing. "You're free of me at last."
"I didn't exactly feel trapped," Porthos replied, standing next to Aramis. "When will I see you again?"
Aramis picked up a pen on the bedside table and grabbed Porthos' arm. "This is my number," he told him, scrawling it along Porthos' forearm. "And I spend half my time in Athos' apartment, so you might be able to find me there."
"I look forward to it," Porthos replied. Acting on a whim, Aramis leaned forwards and pressed a lingering kiss to Porthos' lips.
"See you soon," Aramis told him, going to the door and letting himself out, considering Porthos seemed slightly shell-shocked.
"You kissed him," was the first thing Athos said to Aramis. "You've got that look on your face."
"The 'I'm delicious and anyone would be lucky to have me' look?" Aramis quipped. Athos looked entirely unimpressed.
"The 'I'm a overconfident fool who thinks I'm far more irresistible than I am' look," he corrected. "I assume you think he's a good candidate for a third?"
"Putting it that way makes it sound so clinical," Aramis sighed. "Doesn't it sound better to say that I already know I love him?"
"He was the one I meant when I said I potentially had someone in mind," Athos admitted. Aramis grinned.
"You have exquisite taste, my love. Shall we go back and tell him?"
Athos shrugged. "Might as well," he replied, a sparkle in his eyes. Aramis beamed as he led the way back down to Porthos' apartment.
"Athos!" Aramis yelled from his bedroom, desperately searching for the proper shirt. "Where's my purple shirt?"
"Last I saw, on my floor," Athos replied dryly. He was already dressed, wearing a pair of black jeans, a white v-neck, and a black blazer. He looked as phenomenal as always. Aramis, on the other hand, was mostly naked and panicking.
"You're not helping!" Aramis snapped, digging through his clothes to try to find the proper shirt. He finally emerged triumphant, the slightly-wrinkled button-down in his hand.
"Athos, would you be a dear and iron this quickly for me?" Aramis asked, batting his eyelashes. Athos remained steadfast.
"You know I haven't the faintest idea how to iron anything, Aramis. Do it yourself."
"You're a beast," Aramis muttered, finding his ironing board and iron. Athos wandered into the bathroom, studying his beard in the mirror.
"Do you think I could use a shave?" he remarked. Aramis let out a little shriek.
"I didn't even think about shaving! Is my beard alright? Does it need to be shaved?"
"Aramis, why are you panicking about this so much?" Athos asked, leaning in the doorway. Aramis gaped at him.
"We're about to go on our first date with Porthos! Why aren't you panicking?!"
"Aramis." Athos crossed the room to grip Aramis by the shoulders, forcing him to look in his eyes. "You met Porthos while hungover, after accidentally breaking into his house and crashing on his couch. Whatever happens, you'll be fine."
Aramis let out a long moan, gripping his hair in his hands. "But I want this to be perfect!" he cried.
"And it will be," Athos replied, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Now, iron your shirt, put on those tight dark jeans, do whatever you need to do in the bathroom, and we'll leave." Aramis released his hair and turned back to the iron. "And keep your hair like that," Athos added. "Don't do anything to it."
"Really?" Aramis asked doubtfully, catching his appearance in the mirror. "I look like I just rolled out of bed."
"And bed head is an unfairly attractive look on you," Athos added. "Trust me. Keep your hair like it is."
Aramis did as Athos told him, putting on the shirt and jeans and then adding a bit of eyeliner in the bathroom.
"Porthos should be getting here any minute," Athos called as Aramis pulled on his shoes. Just as Aramis ran to the door, Porthos knocked on the other side. Aramis let him in eagerly.
Porthos was wearing a white t-shirt with a half-open plaid button-down over it. "You two look fancy," he remarked. "I feel a bit underdressed."
"You look wonderful." Aramis grabbed his keys and linked arms with Porthos as they left the apartment, grabbing Athos on the other side. "Shall we?"
"I think we shall," Porthos replied, grinning.
The date, as Athos had promised, was perfect.