Christmas cookies!
"Porthos, these are amazing!" d'Artagnan exclaimed, mouth still half full with the Christmas cookies his friend had prepared.
"d'Artagnan," Athos shot the boy an exasperated look, but it seemed d'Artagnan didn't care, ignoring him in favour of the biscuits.
"How did I not know you bake?"
"Because I don't," Porthos chuckled, glad he hadn't lost his touch. "I only bake at Christmas."
"What? Why?"
"My sentiments entirely, lad." Aramis spoke with a pained expression, grabbing at the cookies before d'Artagnan ate them all. "These are some of the best cookies I have ever tasted, and we only get them at Christmas." Tutting, he continued to plead, "you are depriving the world, mon ami."
"Shut up," Porthos rolled his eyes, "and stop eatin' 'em all!"
Grabbing the plate of biscuits from under their noses, he smirked at their gasps.
"They're not all for you! I made these for someone else."
"Oh?" Aramis perked up instantly, "and who is this lucky lady?"
"Who said it was a lady?" Smiling proudly at Aramis' pout after being imitated, Porthos acquiesced, "but fine."
"So? Who is it?" d'Artagnan leant forward eagerly. Even Athos had begun listening to the conversation.
"Just a friend."
"You would not waste this talent on a friend, Porthos," Aramis argued.
"Why not? I waste 'em on you idiots, don't I?"
"Ah, but we are brothers."
"Yeah, I know, because friends wouldn't be this irritatin'!"
"Just give us a name?"
"If I give you 'er name, you'll want more."
"I swear,"
"Fine." Porthos grumbled, "Elodie."
"A nice name," Aramis smiled, "when can we meet her?"
Facepalming, Porthos sighed, "if I give you the rest of these cookies, will you stop asking about her?"