A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've been without a PC for a little while.
They will never be able to look at d'Artagnan the same way again. From the moment they found him he has been cursing up a blue streak so wide that even Porthos is shocked.
"Oh God! Aramis, just get it out!"
"All in good time," Aramis soothes as he assesses the wound. The shard protrudes from the foot on both sides, its tip stained a sickening crimson.
"Just take it out!" d'Artagnan howls, body straining against Porthos' arms where he is holding him to stop the lad ripping it out himself. "Porthos! Lemme go!"
With an apologetic look, Aramis sets about cutting the soft leather from d'Artagnan's foot; the boot is ruined anyway but likely the boy will not see it that way.
"Keep him still!"
"I'm trying!" Athos leans more heavily on d'Artagnan's legs as Aramis begins to extract the fragment.
"Athos!" The name bursts from d'Artagnan on a sob. "Lemme go! You're a miserable, wine-soaked, bastard!"
"And me?" Aramis murmurs, eyes fixed on the wound.
"You?" The lad's chest heaves and Porthos smooths the sweat-soaked hair from his face. "You're a fucking butcher, is what you are!"
"Me?" Porthos hums, his head atop d'Artagnan's.
"You're..." He chokes as Aramis finishes, and presses miserably into Porthos, "You're great."
Aramis wipes his hands, examining the offending wood with determinedly feigned nonchalance. "All this for a splinter?"
'Splinter'? D'Artagnan attempts to glare but in his gratitude, fails. "Sorry. That was...Thanks. Sorry."
Aramis winks magnanimously. "We've been called far worse, I assure you."