Early Christmas dinner party!

"Where is everyone?" Constance huffed, sitting at the set table, waiting for anyone to turn up at this point. Glancing to d'Artagnan who was stood searching out of the window, she frowned. "You told them the right time?"

Blushing, d'Artagnan nodded, but thought about it. He was sure he had, but it wasn't entirely impossible that he might have – maybe – given them the wrong time. At Constance's humming he knew she was thinking the same, too. Focusing on the view from the window, he prayed one of his friends would show up soon.

"Traffic might be bad?" he suggested after a few minutes, shrugging.

Constance stayed silent, so d'Artagnan decided not to push the matter. They both knew traffic wouldn't be that bad. Anyway, Athos and Aramis didn't live that far away.

Aramis was often late, but d'Artagnan thought Athos would perhaps manage to get him out of the house on time. Or at least not too late.

Porthos lived a bit further away, so it was possible he could be stuck in some sort of traffic, but he usually set off early.

Tréville was probably the most excusable, since he had a family and a babysitter to sort out.

"If they're not here soon," Constance scowled, "I'm going to eat this myself!"

d'Artagnan glanced at the spread that his partner had saved from him, wondering how she would manage it all. Still, a neutral Constance could achieve much, and an angry Constance could achieve a lot more.

Looking back out the window, he noticed two figures in the distance. Squinting, he managed to make out the figures as Athos and Aramis, and he almost jumped away to welcome them in. Constance's frown didn't falter, however, and he feared what his friends might face when they made it to the door. Would they make it past the threshold? Did they deserve to?

"You're late!" Constance stormed to the door, steamrolling d'Artagnan before he had even a chance to greet his friends.

Athos, for all his superiority, checked his watch uselessly.

"My apologies, Constance, Athos' watch is broken." Aramis supplied helpfully.

"Aramis was too busy preening himself to check the correct time," Athos retaliated, his lips twitching in a grin as he noticed Aramis' shock in his peripheral vision.

"Look," Constance shook her head after a pause, "I don't care what argument you've had. You're late!"

Both men dropped their personal argument quickly, eyes flicking to the floor.

"We are sorry," Athos' eyes met hers sincerely, "it was careless, and we did not mean to be so late."

Constance scrutinised the pair, d'Artagnan watching fearfully behind her as the tension grew.

"I suppose you can come in then," dropping her crossed arms, she didn't move, "but that's only because I can't eat all this food on my own!"

"We are grateful," Aramis tried a smile, testing the water. It was received neither with anger nor positivity.

"Porthos and Tréville are here," Aramis announced, having joined d'Artagnan by the window. He had been relegated to the position by Athos, who was afraid he would offend Constance even more in some way and come away with a sore cheek. The younger man did not argue, eventually agreeing it was probably for the best.

Tréville, his wife, and Porthos chattered as they made their way up the path. Constance made her way to the door, d'Artagnan not bothering this time to attempt to greet anyone.

"Constance," Tréville took a deep breath, "I'm sorry we're so late."

"They 'ad to come pick me up," Porthos admitted, "my car broke down."

Constance's glare faltered just a little, but she stood her ground, "why didn't you call? It would have been nice to have been kept in the loop!"

"Porthos' phone died," Tréville supplied.

"Porthos, why do you never charge your phone?" Aramis interrupted from the hallway but was soon shushed by Athos.

Constance rolled her eyes before Tréville continued, "and I left a voicemail with d'Artagnan."

Immediately all eyes turned on the lad, shifting sheepishly next to Aramis. Tugging at his sleeves, his face turned bright. "You did?"

Staring around now, at these men she called family, Constance groaned internally. "If it weren't Christmas…"