2. "Stay standing."
-/-
Stay standing.
Stay standing.
Stay standing.
Two feet on the ground. Steady. Not difficult.
Two feet… on the ground.
Stay standing.
Porthos blinked, widened his eyes and attempted to keep his focus ignorant of the buzzing through his head. The world spun anyway. He clenched his fists.
Stay standing, stay standing, stay standing.
When he blinked again he sensed more than saw the meaningful look Athos and Aramis exchanged with each other.
"Don't do that," he growled, then took a breath. Stay standing, stay standing. "I'm just... bored, you know. You know how much I love... parades."
Even if fainting would be something to do, it wasn't something he wanted to do.
Stay standing!
Though if he did fall, what a production that would be, eh?
Porthos would have smirked at the private thought, if he didn't think the effort would do him in.
A gray haze was flirting with his vision. God, please.
"What do we do?" d'Artagnan whispered, sounding panicked beneath the earnest tone.
Aramis's voice, when it came, was far more sedate, but just as worried. Porthos could tell. "You were injured in the skirmish this morning," he hissed. "Why didn't you say something?"
"Not hardly," Porthos denied – stay standing, stay standing – "Just that one bugger, caught me in the head with that weird gauntlet thing." The effort to explain made his muscles tremble. He closed his eyes, squinting against the sun. Stay standing. Stay standing.
"Stay standing."
"What was that?" Athos caught.
"Nothing." Porthos breathed. "Just… stay standing… you know... over there. Don't worry 'bout me." Stay standing, stay standing, stay standing.
"I have a feeling this is about to become very dramatic," Aramis predicted.
Stay standing stay standing stay standing, Porthos willed, clenching his jaw. "Aaah," he hissed through his teeth. "Bugger." He kept his voice low but released it aloud. "Stay standing, stay standing stay standing – damn."
"Gentlemen," Athos ordered.
The edges of Porthos's vision turned to ebony as his comrade advocates closed in around him. At which point he felt he had no choice but to give in to the ultimate humiliation. "Least for a little while, no one will be bored," he mumbled, and faded, never aware of whether or not he hit the ground.
-/-
When he woke again, it was dark, but not so much that he couldn't see the arms gesturing over him.
"The giant awakes," he heard. D'Artagnan's voice. As dry and as steadily benign as Athos's or Aramis's might be, just less practiced at covering the emotion underneath. "Are you all right?"
"Give him a moment," Athos said. "Push him too quickly and he may wish his head had been amputated."
Porthos unglued his heavy mouth. "Pessimist."
Aramis laughed, rubbing a soothing hand across his belly. "How do you feel?"
Porthos considered, breathed in as he did so and located the ache at the side of his head. "That depends. How well did the crowd enjoy our drama?"
"The crowd," said Athos, "was the queen, the king, his four cousins, and their few attendants. And I believe they appreciated the break from the monotony of the king's discourse."
"It gave us the chance to share tales about the heroics you engaged in while defending the king's relations during our travels this morning," d'Artagnan spun helpfully.
"We made you sound quite valiant," Aramis said. "The king's cousins were more than happy to help us embellish the tale."
"Hey," Porthos balked, slapping expectedly at Aramis's thigh. "My acts don't require embellishment." He closed his eyes as he smiled, appreciating the existent teasing. His voice dropped. "But of course you know how much I love praise and glory."
"Two of your favorite things," Aramis agreed.
Athos huffed, and Porthos sniffed, enjoying the strange serenity the familiar exchanges were creating in his mind. The pounding headache was retreating, calmed to a dull pulse behind his ear.
What time was it?
Night?
Afternoon?
He should probably try to stand, Porthos thought, and presently opened his eyes, gathering his muscles.
"Stay down, Porthos," Aramis said seriously. "No need to stand now. Rest."
Rest, Porthos mouthed, running the word through his weary mind.
"Yes," Athos soothed, settling a hand upon his chest. "Just for now."
-/-
(2/5)