AN: The Minotaur and Thor get stupid drunk, Scruff passes out, the Puppy bails, Aramis watches the Magic 8 Ball cheat and then tries to wriggle his way into his bed. The most adorable Minothor scene at the end.

I absolutely adore this chapter. - K

I absolutely adore this description. - L


CHAPTER EIGHT

To no one's surprise, it was Porthos who suggested a drinking contest. It had taken a single round for the Musketeers to see that their guests could hold their wine as well as Athos, and Aramis had a suspicion that Porthos hoped to get Thor staggering drunk and see where that led.

Not that he was about to complain, for he saw the interest that flashed in Loki's emerald eyes at the suggestion.

"An excellent idea!" Thor cried, slapping a heavy hand on Porthos's shoulder. Aramis smirked at the appraising look in his friend's eyes. Porthos was not exactly subtle.

Loki shifted beside his brother and Aramis found his eyes drawn to the line of his jaw. Then again, neither was he. Damn D'Artagnan for taking the spot on his other side.

"I don't think I'm up for this," D'Artagnan said with a laugh, extricating himself from the crowded table. "Athos can drink two of me on a good night. I've no chance at all." Porthos checked and Athos raised his tankard with a wry smile.

"Besides, Constance is waiting for me," D'Artagnan added with a sly grin, and Aramis raised his tankard in salute as the boy darted off. If all went well, perhaps D'Artagnan would not be the only one passing the night in enjoyable company.

Aramis slipped into D'Artagnan's empty chair without missing a beat, casually letting his leg brush against Loki's without glancing towards him. Loki drew away and Aramis had to stifle a sigh. He truly hoped the man would be more amenable drunk.

"Bartender! We shall require wine… a great deal more wine!" Porthos called. In a few minutes they were ready. Aramis leaned in to fill his tankard again, careful to let his arm slide along Loki's as he did so.

"May the best man win!" Porthos said, smiling broadly as he raised his tankard in a toast. Athos smirked, but Aramis noticed Loki and Thor looked uncomfortable for a split second before echoing the gesture.

Interesting.

Perhaps angels did not count as 'men.'

It was some time before any effects became visible, but when they did, it was something to behold. Athos, naturally, seemed no different than he did any other night in the tavern. Porthos grew boisterous, as did Thor, while Loki showed no effects whatsoever.

Aramis himself, though he would never admit it aloud, became tactile when drunk. He almost regretted not sitting next to Porthos, whom he could have draped himself over with hardly a raised eyebrow, because every move Loki made sent desire racing through his limbs. He wanted to reach out and wrap an arm around that slim waist, lean against Loki's lean frame, run a hand down his spine to see if he stiffened, but he resisted.

Ought to get a medal from the king for my immense strength of will, he thought hazily. They'd gone through several bottles already and showed no signs of slowing. No one was bothering to keep count. Good sense might kick in if they tried.

"You ought to admit defeat right now!" Porthos said loudly, a broad grin stretching across his handsome face as he nudged Thor in the ribs. "Our Athos has never been out-drank!"

"Nor have I!" Thor said happily, refilling his tankard. "It shall be a glorious battle!"

And so it went on. Another bottle down and Aramis lost the battle with self-control.

There goes my medal, he thought mournfully as he found his hand resting possessively on Loki's shoulder. It was cool beneath his palm. To his surprise, Loki did not shrug him off. He seemed intent on something else. He seemed to be watching Thor, who was certainly on the path to being well and truly hammered.

Aramis paused for a moment, watching with fascination as Loki's lips curled into a tiny smile and he nodded to himself, looking pleased. He raised his tankard to his perfect lips and Aramis fought the urge to bat it aside and trace them with his fingers, curious about whatever it was that was making his angel smile.

The tankard touched Loki's lips and the air glimmered for a fraction of a second. Aramis blinked. Loki set the tankard down once more, and the level had decreased. But he had never swallowed.

Aramis was momentarily distracted by the thought of Loki swallowing, perfect lips wrapped around… no, no, he was not going there this early in the evening.

He glanced at Loki, who was still watching Thor surreptitiously. That confirmed it in his mind: Loki was cheating. His angel was using his powers to make his wine disappear.

Aramis was torn between shock and amusement. He hadn't thought an angel would put his talents to such base use. Loki truly was a fallen angel. He thought of the darkness smoldering in those emerald eyes, the disdain that curled his lips. It was certainly possible.

Loki must have sensed him watching him, for a moment later brilliant eyes turned his way and Loki jerked his shoulder out from under his hand. Smirking, Aramis glanced pointedly at the cup and winked in what was probably a ridiculously exaggerated manner, but it seemed to do the job. For just a moment, amusement lit in Loki's eyes and his face softened into something less disdainful and more… mischievous. It made Aramis's blood race.

Athos's sudden laughter brought drew Loki's attention away again. Surprised, Aramis looked over to where Athos sat, an astonishingly wide smile lighting his features. He looked… happy.

Porthos was beginning to sway in his seat, leaning heavily on Thor, whose attempts to refill his tankard left more wine on the table than in his cup. Athos laughed again at the attempt, and Aramis stared at him, shocked. For the first time in living memory, he had passed through the brooding phase and entered the happy drunken state.

"Ar'mis, you've got t' have some more wine," Athos slurred, reaching across the table to press a fresh bottle into Aramis's hands. He realized that he'd had far less than any of his companions.

Loki raised his tankard again and Aramis saw Thor glance up, a slight frown appearing between his eyes. Aramis reached forward and all but threw his tankard across the table from the force of his feigned spill as he reached for the bottle in Athos's hand, but it distracted Thor while Loki magicked away more of the wine.

"He can't 'old his liquor!" Porthos rumbled happily, and the others laughed, but Aramis could feel Loki's eyes on him.

Fingers brushed the back of his shoulder and Aramis had to fight not to stiffen in shock. Loki was touching him. A moment later the pressure withdrew, but Aramis read the silent acknowledgment in the gesture. His head suddenly felt far clearer.

How odd.

Athos suddenly grabbed up a full bottle of wine and made a valiant attempt to down it in one go. Porthos and Thor let out loud cheers as Athos leaned back in his chair, head flung back. He was about a quarter of the way through the bottle when he leaned too far backwards and fell, rolling over the chair to fall flat on his back. Porthos and Thor roared with laughter, and even Loki smirked.

Athos attempted to get to his feet but fell back a moment later as his feet got tangled with the chair legs, eyes falling shut. Aramis was on the verge of rising to make sure he hadn't injured himself in the fall when a loud snore emanated from the floor.

"One down!" Porthos crowed, collecting the fallen bottle and passing it to Thor. Aramis subtly nudged the bottle Athos had pressed upon him towards Porthos, hiding a grin when his friend swept it up.

It wouldn't be long now.

His prediction was correct. Porthos held his liquor well, but after a certain point it all hit him at once and he went down like a brick wall. It seemed Thor was much the same, for within ten minutes the pair of them were face down on the table, snoring like wild beasts, while Aramis grinned in delight and even Loki allowed a smile of triumph.

By unspoken agreement Aramis conceded that Loki was the winner. He was no fool, and he wasn't going to continue a fight he had no chance of winning.

Though Porthos would say that his pursuit of Loki was precisely that.

Loki turned that small, pleased smile on Aramis, and he realized he didn't give a damn if this was an impossible task. He would win his dark angel over or fail in the attempt.


He was perhaps feeling a bit too proud of himself at the moment, but it was hard not to with Aramis gazing at him with what could only be termed 'drunken adoration' and the rest of his companions out cold. Thor could outdrink Loki, but Loki could outsmart him. It wasn't an unusual end to a drinking game.

But no one had ever caught him in the act before.

Aramis's approval and assistance had been entirely unexpected, and if Loki was being honest, not unwelcome. He had preened a bit under the focused attention, unused to the feeling of being admired.

He was also a tad drunk from the wine he had been forced to consume until Thor was too inebriated to notice his magic, which was turning his normally ordered thoughts to chaos and making it very difficult to ignore the enormous brown eyes watching him so devotedly.

"To your victory, mon ange," Aramis murmured huskily, raising a glass. Loki frowned at the unfamiliar word but resisted the temptation to ask its meaning, refusing to appear ignorant before the mortal with the burning glances.

He tried very hard not to watch the way Aramis's lips fitted against the rough wood of the tankard as he sipped the wine.

Scowling, he forced himself to look away, allowing bitterness to sweep away the wine his magic had failed to purge from his bloodstream. Aramis was nothing more than an irritating mortal. Loki sneered, remembering his own pleasure when Aramis had accepted his magic. What had he expected? The man was drunk.

But, no, what had Aramis called it, his 'light'? He had not been incapacitated by wine then, and still he had looked on Loki with awe.

Loki allowed himself a small smile. Silly Midgardians. Still, his heart lightened enough to allow him to turn back and meet Aramis's smiling eyes.

"Perhaps we ought to do something about them?" he asked, trying to distract Aramis from his apparent goal of staring at Loki for the rest of the night.

Aramis glanced around in surprise as if he had forgotten the others were there. "Athos…" he muttered distractedly, trying to rise.

"He's fine," Loki cut him off at once, embarrassed at his own desire to spare the man worry. Athos was, in fact, fine, the hard-headed idiot. Loki, to his shame, had checked the man for injuries the moment he had fallen. Not that he would ever admit it.

Aramis, for all his slowed perception, seemed to see right through his mask of indifference and a small, pleased grin crept across his features. Nevertheless, he rose and walked unsteadily until he was kneeling by Athos, reaching down and shaking the man's shoulder.

To Loki's surprise, Athos woke after a moment. The man had drunk enough wine to render even Volstagg unconscious, and yet he glared at Aramis with an expression that was alert and irritated.

Aramis must have noted Loki's surprise, for he explained with a smile, "Athos can usually go far longer than that. If he hadn't fallen, even you might not have been able to best him."

"Help me get Porthos," Aramis ordered as he pulled Athos to his feet. Loki supposed that left Thor to his tender mercies.

Between the two of them, Aramis and Athos managed to get their sleeping companion slung between them, though Loki had his doubts about whether Athos would be able to keep his feet. Loki himself put on a show of getting Thor up but secretly sent magic to levitate his giant brother in such a way that Loki merely appeared to be carrying him. He was strong, but no one should have to deal with Thor's deadweight.

Aramis led the way back to the garrison rooms, Athos stumbling beside him and barely managing to keep Porthos from dragging them all down to the road. Once or twice on the way back, Loki thought he heard footsteps behind them, but when he turned, there was no one there, and he had to hurry to catch up to the three men staggering ahead of him.

When they reached the garrison, Athos peeled off almost at once, staggering down a different hallway until he came up against a door.

"Athos's rooms are down there," Aramis said, panting slightly from the effort of bearing Porthos's weight on his own. The larger man had come to but was still too uncoordinated to do much more than move his legs in a vaguely cumbersome manner.

Loki pushed away an urge to help Aramis with his burden. A vindictive part of him wanted Aramis to drop the irksome Musketeer, but another worried that Aramis would injure himself in the process. In the end, he sent just enough magic to ensure Aramis wouldn't career off the edge of the balcony, cursing himself all the while for his sentimentally.

He blamed it on the wine.

He could hear Aramis murmuring what sounded like encouragement to Porthos as they neared the rooms. A few steps closer told him it was actually a mix of compliments that Loki found oddly irritating and affectionate threats to dunk Porthos in the water trough next time he got so drunk he couldn't walk.

Another compliment to 'Porthos's prodigious strength' and Loki would do it himself.

They had just reached the proper set of doors when Porthos gained his feet for a moment, smiling broadly at Aramis as he attempted to find the proper keys.

"Ar'mis, I di'n't know you could hold your liq'r so well!"

Aramis rolled his eyes as he finally located the key, tilting his head enough to catch Loki's eye.

Loki smirked, having often been on the receiving end of that particular phrase. Honestly, it was unbelievable that Thor had never realized Loki cheated during drinking games. He was a model of oafish gullibility, but Loki found himself unable to muster the proper amount of disdain for his brother at the moment.

Must be the alcohol.

Once both doors were open, Aramis paused, looking back at him with a question in his eyes. Loki realized with a sinking feeling that he was going to have to share at room with his enormous, snoring brother. He was just plotting ways to silence Thor without damaging him when a look of mischief danced across Aramis's face.

"Why don't we put Porthos and Thor in together?" he asked, smirking devilishly. Loki fought the urge to laugh but allowed himself a smile as he nodded, imagining the awkward awakening the two men would have.

He completely forgot to consider where Aramis would be sleeping until he was standing in the middle of the room, looking back at the doorway, with Aramis lounging against the wall with a very different smile on his face.

"So…" he drawled, charm all but oozing off of him as he raised one arm above his head to brace himself against the doorframe. In the darkness of the room, Loki could only make out his striking silhouette. "It's an awfully long trip back to my lodging house, and it's quite late…"

It took Loki's brain an obscene amount of time to work out what Aramis was implying. By the time his mind caught up, Aramis was already shutting the door, crowding into Loki's space in a way that made his clothing feel too tight.

"It's my room," he protested, but his voice failed to take an appropriately icy tone.

Aramis smiled wolfishly. "Well, actually, it's mine, but we can share. The bed is large enough." Loki glanced back at the narrow bed. They'd have to lie atop one another to both fit… ahh.

With an immense effort, he brought his thoughts back under strict control and leveled a cold glare at Aramis.

"We shall not-" he began stiffly, but Aramis's laughter cut him off.

"Of course not, mon ange," he said, still grinning. "I shall, of course, take the chair unless otherwise invited." His voice curled teasingly around the last word, but Loki did not allow his thoughts to linger.

"Very good," he said shortly. He refused to allow any emotion to cross his face, worried he might show a glimpse of the amazement he felt in the face of Aramis's sincere generosity. He settled himself on Aramis's be- on the bed, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he resisted the temptation to glance over at the handsome man making himself comfortable on the hard chair in the corner.

After a few minutes of lying there, too aware of his roommate, guilt began to war with hesitation in his chest. This was Aramis's bed, and he had made no secret of his interest or his unflinching acceptance. Disdain kept Loki aloof, but Aramis was vibrant and alive, and for once Loki wondered if, perhaps, he shouldn't fight so hard against what he wanted.

Before he could think about it any longer, he sat up and blurted out, "Aramis-"

A soft snore cut through the silence before he could say anymore. He was too late.

Cursing his own weakness, Loki lay back down on the bed, refusing to acknowledge the disappointment clawing through his chest.

He stared at the ceiling long into the night.


When Porthos woke in the gentle predawn light, his first thought was that Aramis was much too far away. He grumbled incoherently and tried to tug Aramis closer before pausing. Aramis's biceps were not that large last nigh- Shit.

It was Thor.

Well, technically they were both still asleep. If his arm just happened to creep over Thor and gently pull the slumbering man closer, well, he could hardly be blamed.

And if Thor responded enthusiastically and nestled into his embrace, all that could be said was that they were cuddly drunks, that was all. No one could fault them for that.

He wondered vaguely where Aramis was and chuckled to himself as he connected the dots. That little flirt, he thought. He read me too well.

And after Porthos had berated him for fancying Loki, too.

His last thought before he fell back asleep, curled against Thor's warm back, was that Aramis would never let him live this down.


AN: I always forget about that last little scene and end up grinning like an absolute looby (casually tell that I've been reading Beka Cooper). Standard thanks-for-reading-gief-reviews-naaaaow. - K

^These are probably the kinds of things I was meant to edit out but c'mon man this is funnier. Also, is that a hint of Thor/Porthos I wrote in there? ...PORTHUNDER - L

ALL ABOARD THE S.S. PORTHUNDER, TOOT TOOT, READERS, TOOT TOOT - K