It was two nights after the mess that left all of us injured, and Constance had moved D'artagnan back to her home. Athos and Porthos had gone back to their own lodgings, leaving Aramis and I alone again.
Athos had explained everything to Treville, smoothed over his anger at not being told, and expertly accepted Treville's order for all of us not to show up to the Garrison for at least two weeks until we were completely healed. The fire that had started in the old building had completely turned it to ash, luckily the people surrounding it had put the fire out before it could spread completely relatively easy. We knew that the man behind it was dead, and according to the other Horsemen, everyone else should be as well. So we could relax.
And I had been fast asleep, until a heard a shout.
I was on my feet faster than I probably should have been, and winced harshly as pain assaulted me. The cold wood stung my bare feet slightly, and the chilly breeze blowing through my open window cut through my thin tunic and pants easily. I shivered and looked around blearly, wondering what had jarred me awake. And how the dagger that was normally on my nightstand was in my hand.
Then another strangled shout rang through the air and I bolted out of my room and down the hall.
I flung Aramis' bedroom door open, expected an enemy, only to find Aramis tossing around in his bed, face pale and drawn in fear and guilt, and his sheets trapping his legs with how tangled they were.
I sighed, lowering my dagger and setting it on his desk, before closing the window that was blowing cold air inside.
Aramis muttered, "Savoy." Lowly and I sat on the bed beside him, reaching towards him to brush his hair away from his face.
He twisted towards my hand, and pressed into it, his cries lessening to whimpers.
I had frightened him just last night, screaming about a fire in the house, so it was only even. I had been more frightened though, when I saw him out of his bed and sitting in mine last night.
I sighed, and pulled my hand away to straighten his sheets. But he surprised me by surging upwards, wrapping his arms around me, and pressing his face to my neck. Seeming to hide from the world.
"Rogue?" His voice asked.
"Yeah." I murmured back, my arms rising to wrap around his shoulders, one hand beginning to card through his soft hair.
"Sorry for waking you." He murmured against my collarbone, pulling me further onto the bed with his arms locked around me.
"No need for apologies. Can I fix your blankets now?"
He nodded, but didn't pull away. I sighed, reaching down and straightening his blankets out without looking down at them. But I only succeeded in tangling them not only on his legs, but mine as well.
Aramis smirked against my skin before pulling away and looking down at the tangled mess around us.
His skin was cold to the touch, and I knew mine was warm. We were polar opposites, he and I. One feared the cold the other adored, and one feared the warmth the other needed. Maybe that's why we offered each other so much comfort.
"You made a mess." Aramis teased me and I huffed.
"You try to fix blankets without looking." I muttered back.
"I have." He said with a suggestive wink, "Numerous times."
I rolled my eyes, "Good for you. Prince Charming. You want me to leave now that you're awake?"
He tilted his head, he was a lot less pale now, but still shaky. "Hmm. No." He finally said with a grin.
"So am I being held captive then?"
"Basically." Came his reply, before he pulled me down so we were lying on our sides, facing each other, in his large bed.
Then he reached down with one hand and straightened his blankets, pulling them over us.
He rolled onto his back and patted the space right next to him.
"Won't I hurt you?" I asked, mindful of his still tender injuries.
He rolled his eyes, "I won't break. Get over here."
I huffed, aware that I was usually the one who said that, and scooted closer to him.
He wrapped an arm behind me, and tugged me closer. I lost my balance and threw my arm over him to try and regain my balance.
He huffed with a grin and captured my hand in his, keeping it stretched over his stomach, before I could move it. "That's better. Now, go to sleep."
He closed his eyes with a small smirk, and with a small huff if indignation, I closed my eyes with a smile.
M
I woke the next day to a light tickling sensation on my side, right above my hip.
I didn't open my eyes, but I focused on the sensation. With a mental start, I realized that it was Aramis, drawing patterns on my skin. His hand had slipped underneath my shirt slightly, and he was just moving his finger in random shapes above my hip.
"Aramis." I murmured.
"Hmm?" Came his sleepy reply.
"What are you doing?" I asked him.
His finger paused for a moment, before continuing to trace the light patterns on my skin, "I'm not entirely sure. Would you like me to stop?"
"….. No."
"Then why ask at all?" He asked me, laughter evident in his tired voice.
"Because I was confused why you're doing it to me. But it feels kind of good."
He hummed, and I could see a smile on his face without having to open my eyes. "Then I won't stop."
The sunlight was warm on my back, and Aramis was no longer like ice like he was last night, instead he was warm, and I felt impossibly safe right here, with my arm slung over his chest and my head pillowed partially by his bicep and partially on his soft pillows. His head was curled partially over mine, and his nose was pressed against my hair, his beard near my ear.
One of his legs had pinned one of mine, and I was comfortable and warm.
"What time is it?" I murmured against his shoulder.
He yawned, "Don't know. Don't care. I'm not really inclined to move right now."
"Neither am I. But had to ask."
"Why?"
"Are we expecting any of our friends over today?"
"I imagine not. D'artagnan has the wonderful Constance to coo over him all day, Athos will have snuck into the Garrison and is probably helping Treville right now with Treville sighing but secretly liking the help, and Porthos is either with Flea, or with a game of cards."
"Then do we have to move at all?"
"Well, normally, when I stay in bed with someone all day, we do other activities beside sleep." He purred teasingly.
"Hmph. You wish."
"Aw, you hurt me, Rogue. Truly."
"I feel so bad about it." I muttered, snuggling further into his warm embrace. "But I'm still tired. Your shout last night nearly gave me a heart attack, I woke up on my feet, with my dagger somehow in my hand and swinging at unseen enemies."
His chest rumbled with light laughter, "My apologies. Had no clue you were such a scaredy kit." His hand danced along my side, tracing bigger patterns as he spoke.
Then he bowed his head further over mine, tightening his arm around me, and his hand still clasped in mine, "But thank you for chasing off my nightmare."
"Hmm. You're welcome. By the way, what's Savoy?" He tensed and I hastened to say, "We don't have to talk about it now. If you don't want to."
He drew in a ragged breath and I tightened my fingers around his, provided silent comfort, and he kissed the top of my head in thanks. "No. If we're staying here all day anyway, we might as well talk… But, I'll only tell you if you tell me something of your past as well. Perhaps where you got these scars." His finger began to trace one of the scars left by the cat-o-nine-tails.
"Deal." I murmured, shivering slightly as he traced the lines.
With that, story time began, and I learned the horror that was Savoy. In return, I told him how I got the marks, and how sorry I was he now had whip lashes to partly match mine.
M
By the time we finished with our stories, the sun was hot against my neck, and I guessed it was at least noon.
"Perhaps we had best get food?" Aramis suggested, his voice shaking slightly.
I nodded against his shoulder, "Sounds good."
But neither of us moved, until I sighed and pulled away from him. Sitting up.
He reluctantly released my hand, and let his arm drop to the bed.
I stretched and looked out the closed window, where the sun had risen high in the sky.
I froze when Aramis' fingers traced the scars from the whip that started on my right shoulder where my sleeve had slipped down.
He sat up in bed behind me and set his chin on my shoulder, looked out the window with a sleepy brown gaze. "It's pretty out there." I commented.
"Yes, but I've seen prettier things." He murmured.
I chuckled, "Dramatic this morning, aren't you?"
He yawned, "Someone has to be."
I rolled my eyes, reaching back to ruffle his already messy hair before standing up and padding out of the room on bare feet.
M
I wasn't able to get dressed as quickly as I'd like, what with the injured arm that hadn't needed stitches, but I still had wrapped tightly because it hurt and could get infected, and the whip lashes. My wrapped hand throbbed, but not as much as my stomach.
The tunic was probably the worst thing to get on, even the jacket wasn't that difficult.
When I was finally dressed, I strapped my sword to my belt and flipped my hat onto my head.
I walked into the hall, and waited, leaning against the wall, until Aramis stepped out.
He was dressed completely, but he held himself funny, no doubt hurting as much, if not more, than I was.
"We could have stayed in bed for the rest of the day." Aramis complained, walking over to me, "We should have."
I laughed, ignoring the pain it sparked, as we walked down the stairs, "Yes, but food."
He tilted his head before conceding, "Yes, food is important."
I snickered and he slung his arm over my shoulder, wincing slightly. "Come on! I can't even do this!" He whined. "Being injured….." He shook his head dramatically.
I subtly dipped my shoulder towards him so he wouldn't stretch his injury too much and smirked, "So sorry for your pain."
He gave me a flat look, "I can tell." He pulled his arm away from my shoulder as we walked out the door, his cloak swishing behind him as I followed him out.
