A/N:

This is continued from Chapter 11: a second part of the Prequel to Chapter 6.

This is getting messed up, please bear with me. =)


Prequel 2: "Wanna bet?"

He is ready and she is drunk. So is Aramis: his arm is wrapped around her shoulders as they laugh at some inside joke.

"You're finally here!" D'Artagnan welcomes him with a hug. "More wine for our friend!" He shouts and the waitress hurries to their table.

"I had to stay there and play the part of the forsaken husband, try to drown my sorrow in wine and other women, it was fun." He jokes, but she is drunk so of course she takes it personally.

"Had they known the truth about what kind of husband you really were, they would run as fast as the skirt would let them" Her finger is pointing at him and it would be quite endearing, if Aramis wasn't still wrapped around her.

"Easy, tiger," the handsome musketeer pulls her back into his side. "Everyone had a part to play - he played his and we played ours."

"You sure used all your talent." She is relaxed, she is among friends, his friends who are now her friends enough for her to allow herself a true laugh, the kind when she throws her head back and it finds it's way onto Aramis's shoulder.

"It wasn't hard with a partner I had." She smirks and Porthos cut in:

"Quit it you two, you are disgusting."

"We are mates, it's what mates do!" Aramis protests, but his arm is still around her and his fingertips are playing with her hair, and she is just comfortable or drunk enough to let him hold her like this, too close for what's accepted, too intimate. Apparently Athos is not the only one who notices.

"Yeah? You wanna play with my hair too?"

"I didn't know you were into that kind of thing, but I'm up for anything my friend," Aramis slurs and Porthos drops his forehead onto his hands.

"You're a disgrace."

"And you," Milady sits up straight once again, her finger pointing at Porthos now, "are no fun."

"And I'm going home." D'Artagnan announces, but no one really pays attention as Aramis is too busy being the Enfant terrible, Milady is too busy staring Porthos down, Porthos is too drunk to come us with a good comeback and Athos's eyes are glued to his wife's fiery expression. "Right. See you tomorrow. I hope." He adds as he hurries to leave the tavern and the conversation that's quickly gotten too tense for his liking with Athos's return.

"And you made him leave!" Porthos finally exclaims, happy he found a way out.

"He left because he has a wife to come back to. Unlike any of you." She slumps back into Aramis's waiting arms and takes another gulp of the wine.

"That's actually quite sad." Aramis adds, drinking from his own cup, unaffected by the angry stare Athos is giving him.

He is pretty sure she is doing this on purpose, provoking him, waiting for his reaction, but it doesn't make it easier to watch her drunk self being held by the most famous womaniser in Paris. The womaniser who is supposed to be his friend, who is supposed to know how he feels, but who obviously doesn't seem to care right now. Or maybe he finally has everyone fooled he truly doesn't care.

When the idea of her joining in with the crew was brought up it was D'Artagnan who resisted the most and even through internally Athos wanted to scream "no" he merely shrugged and ignored the discussion, hoping it would go away. It didn't.

When Porthos voiced everyone's concern about her not being able to fight on par with them all he wanted to say was that it was an idiotic idea from the beginning, that she was indeed capable, but he would be probably useless in a fight now, watching her at all times. Not to mention a torture to would be to be near her. He smirked at Porthos's words instead, hoping that they will rethink their decision after all. They didn't.

When they discussed the plan for the operation at the ball Aramis suggested dancing and they needed two men to play the parts of a lover and a husband. Athos really wanted to say that he'd be fine playing both parts as he couldn't bear to see her in someone else's arms, but instead he just stuck to instructing D'Artagnan, hoping the plan would somehow come together without him involved. Once again, it didn't.

And now everyone seems to think he is fine with the situation, not that he can blame them. It must be quite hard to decipher all shades of his grumpiness, even though she is behind almost each and every one of them.

"It is sad." Porthos confirms and finishes his wine. "I say we call it a night before you two fall asleep all over each other and we will have to carry you both home."

The image of him carrying Milady home is stuck in Athos's head and he hopes that they would all agree to Porthos's wise suggestion. They don't of course.

"Are you saying," Milady's eyes twinkle playfully, "That you two," she lookes between him and Athos, "can hold liquor better then we can?"

"I…" Porthos tries to stop her from luring him into this, but Aramis is too drunk to support him.

"You know what, I think he does."

"Wanna bet?" Her face is that of pure excitement, like it is a childish game she is offering.

"I have Athos on my team, do you really wanna get into this?" Porthos twists his moustache in mock arrogance.

"He's a drunk, he'll probably go down first."

Athos wants to say he'd take no part in this, but… He doesn't.

"Wine!" Aramis calls and it's on.

A couple of hours later Aramis is snoring on the table.

"I take it…" Porthos slurs, "That we win."

"What were the rules?" Milady's eyes are glazed, but she is still sitting upright. "We should have… established that… it's one for all… or what is that thing you say…"

"And all for one." Athos helps her. Speaking is not easy, but he feels the most comfortable of them all - he's been in this state too often.

"So I must be… I must… be enough." She states and holds her cup out for another portion of wine and Athos is not sure she'll make it out alive if she keeps this up.

"Aramis is down, you… can't fight us both." Porthos's voice of reason is blatantly ignored by her impatiently shaking the cup.

Athos desperately wants to stop this and maybe because he is already too drunk he does exactly that.

"I'm out." He says and gets up as gracefully as he can. "I give in."

"No!" She cries juts as Porthos cries "Thank God" and tries to get up as well, failing miserably. "Really, Milady I can't take it anymore. You win."

"Honest?" Her drunk stare is angry, but Porthos is pitiful enough for her to believe him. "Good, because I don't think I can stand up." She informs them nonchalantly, her cheek held up by her hand in mock despair. She is a cute drunk and she knows it.

"I'll carry you." Athos suggests, but her eyes are fixated on Porthos who seems to have found a semblance of balance on his feet.

"I'd rather a friend carried me. You," she finally looks at him, "are not a friend."

It stings even through the drunken haze he's in, but he ignores it. Porthos scoops her up easily and heads for the exit, his walk uneven, but not enough for them both to fall over.

"I'll accompany you." Athos suggests just in case they do fall over.

"Where exactly are we going?" Porthos asks her once they are outside. "I have no idea where you live."

"And I'm not telling you, so I guess we're going to your place." She smiles at him before closing her eyes and seemingly drifting off.

"Right. I just love a good old sleep in the floor thing." Porthos scoffs, heading in the direction of his apartment.

"Then we both stand to win." She mutters with her eyes still closed and smiles with a tiny smile that Athos just wants to kiss off her face then and there.

He walks with them and makes sure they don't fall over instead.