Well, well, well...we meet again. I bet you all thought I'd given up writing fanfiction at all. Tis not the case! I've been busy with other things, namely three children, working on an original novel and working on starting a blog (when I launch my blog, I'd love to share it with you all. It will basically follow my process transitioning from writing fanfiction to creating original fiction) I don't intend to ever stop fanfiction, honestly. I love it too much. Sometimes finding the time is difficult though. For my VPU readers who are here as well, I'm very nearly done with Not So Ancient History, so there's that. I'll be sending it off to betas within the next couple of weeks I hope.
Anyway! I've had a stroke of inspiration about this modern AU and so I've got this bit for you today and have several more pieces planned out already. This takes place mere days after the first one where Aramis and Anne met. It's unbeta'd, so forgive any errors. Enjoy!
From a little spark may burst a flame.
Dante Alighieri
"I must say, this was nothing like any first date I've ever been on," Anne commented with a smile as she brought her ice cream cone to her mouth and took a generous lick.
A sound of amusement rose from the man walking next to her and she glanced over in time to see Aramis smirking as if amused by some private joke.
"Yes, well, no one has ever accused me of being 'conventional'," he replied easily. She watched him masterfully swipe his tongue around the outer edge of his cone to prevent any melting ice cream from dripping down. "In fact, I'd wager Porthos would claim the opposite with the fondest exasperation."
"Porthos, he's one of your chosen brothers, right?"
She watched a fond, warm light come to life in his gaze as he smiled.
"Mmmm," he hummed his agreement as he took another swipe at his ice cream with his tongue. "We've known each other more than half my life, he and I," he added after swallowing it down.
"How did you meet?" she wondered lightly, sweeping her gaze across the lake next to them. She didn't want him to feel pressured. While he had asked questions a plenty about her, her family, and her job as a teacher, he had deftly danced around, through and over any real questions about his.
He was quiet for a moment and a glanced showed him watching her contemplatively.
She had an eerie feeling of being weighed and measured and then he smiled at her, a slight, small, warm thing that was as warming as it was reassuring.
"We met in foster care when I was twelve and he was fourteen," he revealed bluntly.
Then he waited, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he seemed to return his attention to his ice cream.
She knew, however inattentive he seemed, he was watching her reaction. It was clear this wasn't information he often shared freely, and how she responded would likely dictate how much he shared with her going forward. She took a moment to absorb the new information, reconciling it with what she already knew about the mother he lost when he was young.
"Was it brotherhood at first sight?" she asked softly, quirking her lips warmly.
Something in his posture eased and he grinned, taking a large bite out of his cone.
"For him it was. I didn't know it at the time, but he adopted me from the moment we met."
"Not so instant for you?" she wondered curiously. To hear him talk of Porthos now, the man meant the world to him – he and Athos both.
He grimaced and finished off his cone with a large bite before replying.
"Not exactly," he admitted, but didn't go on.
Anne didn't want to push further and risk him shutting down, so she let it go. Apparently not willing to risk that she wouldn't, Aramis changed the subject.
"Did you always want to be a teacher?" he asked.
She licked her ice cream thoughtfully as she watched him crumble up his napkin. She arched an eyebrow curiously when he twisted slightly and lobbed the trash over his shoulder towards a bin they'd passed a few steps ago. He barely glanced at where he was throwing, but she turned her head to watch the little ball of sticky napkin land perfectly in the trash bin.
She filed that interesting bit of talent away for later and answered his question instead.
"Not always. For as long as I can remember, my future was always set, and I never thought about what I really wanted — not until the last few years at least."
Curiosity piqued in his gaze.
"What future was that, if I may ask?"
"Politics," she replied, a scowl pulling at her features.
She was pleasantly surprised to see Aramis apparently caught completely off guard by that revelation. In her short experience, the man never seemed surprised by anything.
"Not me, exactly," she went on because now that she was talking the words seemed to come easily. "I was never meant to play any part but the dutiful housewife, a pretty picture to stand silently aside — always a step behind, always seen, but never heard."
Now Aramis was frowning, his brow pulled together thoughtfully.
His posture suddenly straightened, and he stopped walking.
"Anne d'Autriche…your father is Phillip d'Austriche?"
Anne hesitated, wondering at his reaction as she paused a few steps ahead of him and turned back to face him.
"Yes."
"He's heavily involved in trying to control the military," Aramis went on heatedly. "He and that idiot son of Henri Bourbon – Louis – are always giving us hell about…" he trailed off abruptly and blinked, seemingly as caught off guard by what he'd just revealed as she was.
"You're in the military," she realized, somehow completely unsurprised. The way he moved and carried himself spoke to training of some sort.
He blinked at her again and then sighed out a breath.
"Yes," he admitted simply, watching her warily.
She studied him for a moment and then huffed a slight laugh.
"You must hate my father."
Her light response had him smiling in return and some tension fading from his posture.
"You don't share his beliefs then?" he wondered.
"That the military should be turned into what essentially amounts to mercenaries for the most powerful politicians to use as they see fit? No."
He chuckled and fell back into step next to her.
"You're relieved," she noticed with a smile.
"Well, I'm quite enjoying myself and I'd have hated the night to be ruined."
She smiled, cheeks reddening at the confirmation that he was enjoying their date as much as she was.
"So what branch are you?"
If she had guessed, she might have thought perhaps the special forces, given that was the group her father and Louis were the most adamant about controlling to their own ends. So, she only nodded in understanding when he replied.
"Special Forces, a commando unit."
She eyed him curiously, wondering if he would tell her which one.
He gave her a patient smile.
"The Musketeers, that's what we call ourselves anyway. Our CO is a fan of Dumas."
She couldn't help but smile at that.
She remembered when the Musketeers had been born, about five years ago now, back before she had broken away from her parents' plans for her. She'd heard her father cursing the CO of the new unit several times in the months that followed the unit's creation.
"Enough about me," he stated suddenly. "Tell me more about your students."
She didn't point out that these last few minutes had been the first time they really talked about him all night. Instead, she smiled and launched into a story about one of the little boys in her class who had quite the eye for mischief.
Anne watched her apartment building come into view with regret. But it was already late, and she had a volunteer event in the morning with some other teachers. She toyed with her keys as they strolled to a stop at the entrance.
She wanted to invite him up for a coffee or tea or anything. But with the way her heart had been pounding and stomach had been fluttering all evening, she was reasonably sure that inviting him up would test her self-control beyond her limits.
"May I walk you to your door?" he asked politely, gesturing vaguely at the closed apartment building entrance.
A compromise. She could work with that.
"Sure," she agreed with a smile. "Thanks."
He smiled in response and followed her into the building when she pushed the door open. As they moved up the stairs, his eyes darted around to the various shadows and adjoining hallways and she realized that he was truly ensuring she made it safely to her apartment.
It was sweetly endearing in the most perfect, old fashioned way.
And it did absolutely nothing to bolster her self-control.
"This is me," she said at last, pointing with her key at the appropriate door.
His eyes darted down to the lock and she wondered if he was checking for signs of tampering, but before she could dwell on it too long, his gaze was back on hers.
"I had a wonderful time," he told her, voice warm with sincerity.
"So did I," she agreed easily and honestly.
"Taking you to the firing range wasn't a terrible idea, then?" He said it with a shy smirk and dancing humor in his eyes.
"Well, it was definitely a first," she admitted with a grin. But as she thought back over Aramis's chest pressed to her back as he wrapped his arms around her to show her how to properly hold a handgun, she couldn't find any negatives to the outing. She hoped the sudden heat she felt in her cheeks wasn't too obvious in the dim hallway. "But I actually quite enjoyed seeing you in what I now know was your element."
He grinned proudly and she remembered her own feeling of awe as she watched him shoot a smiley face into his target as easily as if he were drawing it on paper.
"Yes well, Porthos told me it was a bad idea, but I was sure it would have its benefits."
She thought of his chest at her back and his arms around her again and couldn't help but emphatically agree with his reasoning. He drifted a half step closer and she hoped he couldn't hear her heart pounding.
"Well, you can tell him, from me, that he was very wrong."
His eyes flashed with amusement and he drifted closer still, but still didn't invade her space.
"Anne," he intoned huskily, "I would very much like to kiss you."
Surely, he could hear her heart positively beating out of her chest. She drew in a half breath, trying to find the words to grant him the permission he was so obviously seeking, but her brain was suddenly misfiring under the intensity of his gaze.
"I would much very to kiss me you –" he mercifully cut off her incoherent rambling by closing the distance between them with one confident step closer.
Anne found her back pressed against her door, a warm calloused hand curved around the back of her neck and another on her hip.
Then his lips pressed gently, but confidently, against hers and she might as well have been standing in the blazing sun for the heat that swept through her. Without her prompting, her own hands curled up around his back, pressing into the hard line of his spine and feeling the coiling of muscle across his ribs and shoulders.
When he pulled back, and they both drew in a shaky breath, it took her a moment to get her eyes to focus properly again.
"If I don't leave now, I will have a very hard time doing so," he admitted softly, still close enough that the words were breathed across her own lips.
"If you don't leave now, I will have a very hard time letting you," she replied in the same tone.
He made a sound then in the back of his throat that suggested her reply had not helped his resolve.
"I'm leaving for the weekend," he told her, seeming to force himself to take a step back through pure will. "We're supposed to be off before dawn."
"I have a volunteer event bright and early," she replied, feeling some semblance of coherency take hold again.
He took another step back and appeared to feel a bit steadier for it.
"For the best then..."
"For the best," she agreed, nodding gravely.
They stared at each other, eyes locked and a steady tension thrumming around them before he seemed to forcefully shake himself, turning a half step towards the stairs. She turned to her door and unlocked it, pushing it inward. She glanced over her shoulder to see him hesitating at the landing, glancing back over his own shoulder at her.
"Or you could come in for a coffee," she suggested suddenly.
"Coffee is good," he agreed before she'd even finished offering.
He strode back towards her with intense purpose and his mouth was on hers before she'd even managed to step back into her apartment. Her eyes slid closed, meeting his intensity with her own and she curled her hands into the edges of his jacket, pulling him over the threshold after her.
Anne poured half the coffee into her travel mug and emptied the rest into her spare. She bit her lip and grinned when an arm slid around her waist and a nose nuzzled at the back of her neck, followed by the scratchy drag of a beard.
"I'm sorry I have to go so early," Aramis whispered against her neck, chasing the words with a gentle kiss to the space under her ear. It took Anne two tries to put the coffee carafe back in its place and she felt Aramis's lips smile against her neck.
She turned in his arms sliding her own up around his neck, marveling at how easy it felt to settle into his embrace, how natural it felt.
"I have to go too," she assured. "It's my job to set up the donation table before the event."
He leaned back a little, studying the bright neon green t-shirt she wore.
"Fun-Run?"
"The school I work out needs to raise money for new computers," she explained.
He nodded, gaze sliding back up to meet hers.
"Invite me to the next one," he suggested. "I have a whole unit of grumpy, but very fit, men who would love to run for a good cause."
She smiled warmly, touched by the offer.
"I will," she promised.
He nodded slightly, but his dark gaze had gone intense, as she'd seen it do last night many times. She was already leaning up to meet him when he moved to press their mouths together. When he pulled away, he only went far enough so he could meet her eyes again.
"I'll call you when I'm back," he promised.
"You'll only be gone the weekend?" she asked, to be sure.
He nodded and drew further back, though he looked reluctant to do so.
"I made you coffee."
She reached back for her spare travel mug and held it out to him. She knew she had slept at least a little last night. When she'd fallen asleep, he'd been sitting up against her headboard, absently gliding his fingers through her hair while he perused one of the books from her shelf. When she'd woken, it was to the sound of him taking a shower. The bed had been cold next to her and she wasn't entire sure he'd slept at all. The slight darkness smudged beneath his eyes, leant credence to her theory.
"Thank you." He smiled warmly, taking a deep drink from it immediately. If he was bothered by how hot it had to be or the lack of cream or sugar, he didn't show it. "Have fun today," he said after swallowing. "I'll call you."
"You better," she teased, brazenly leaning in to kiss him once more. He smiled against her lips and didn't pull away until she did. "Be safe," she whispered, squeezing his fingers as he stepped away.
He winked and backed towards the door, lifting the coffee in a sort of salute.
"Always," he promised.
Aramis opened his apartment door to wolf-whistles. He rolled his eyes, kicking the door closed and turning to engage the locks.
"Same clothes as yesterday," d'Artagnan observed from where he lounged on the couch.
"Unfamiliar coffee mug, but clearly not from a shop," Athos added, eyes sparkling at him from over a steaming mug of his own.
"A cryptic 'don't wait up' text with multiple misspellings last night. Intriguing evidence if you ask me." Porthos leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, chuckling as Esme swept past him to greet Aramis with a wagging tale.
"Some-body got lu-cky," d'Artagnan teased in a sing-song voice.
Aramis shed his jacket and hung it up and dropped to a knee to greet Esme. He whispered a quiet greeting to her in Spanish and then turned to face his brothers.
"Jealousy suits none of you. Don't we have somewhere to be?"
Porthos held up his hands in surrender.
"We were waiting for you."
"And Treville will be waiting for all of us, so…" Aramis motioned haphazardly around and then strode down the hall to his room, hoping the heat he felt creeping up his neck wasn't easily visible.
He grabbed his duffel from the floor and tossed it onto his bed. It was mostly packed already, but he retrieved a knife from under his pillow and a gun from his nightstand, tossing them in. Then he stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the hamper.
"We're only teasing. You know that, right? We're happy for you, all of us."
Aramis glanced over his bare shoulder at Porthos before looking back into his closet.
"I know."
Porthos moved farther into the room, reaching for Aramis' rifle case in the corner and slinging the trap over his own shoulder — a privilege afforded to very few.
"Did you sleep at all?" he asked with a forced casualness that didn't fool Aramis at all.
He pulled on one of his favorite black Henley's and toed off his boots so he could change out of his jeans and into his black cargos. He busied himself with his belt and kicking away the denim and put off answering until he was tightening the belt over his cargos.
"No," he said simply, dropping to the edge of the bed to pull on his combat boots. He heard Porthos drifting around the room, probably packing anything Aramis had forgotten. He strolled into Aramis's field of vision to pick up the discarded jeans, retrieving Aramis's wallet. He stepped up to him and held it out.
"You going to see her again?" he asked quietly.
Aramis tied his boots and took the wallet with a deep sigh. He finally looked up and met Porthos gaze.
"I hope so."
Porthos nodded, looking pleased but also wary.
"Are you going to tell her?"
Aramis averted his gaze and slid past him to zip up his duffle, scratching Esme's ears where she was laying on the bed next to it.
"'Mis…"
"You think I should tell this woman I've only been out with once that I've got a broken mind and that I'm a mine field of post-traumatic baggage?"
"Hey!" Porthos's voice snapped sharp as a whip, and he rounded the bed, pulling Aramis around to face him. "You are not broken. Nothing about you is broken. But if you're going to continue on with her — and to be clear, I am fully supportive of that — you can't just stay over there and not sleep, especially not before an op."
Aramis refused to meet his gaze for a long moment, breathing slow calming breaths through his nose. Porthos sighed and reached out to grip his shoulder gently. He waited until Aramis looked at him to continue,
"It's not good for you, Aramis. You don't get enough sleep as it is."
"I'm not burdening her with my issues, not this early," Aramis replied firmly. Then he softened. "But I hear you."
Porthos nodded, lightly bracing his hand against Aramis' jaw for a moment before withdrawing.
"Stop worrying," Aramis accused warmly. "It was actually my best night in a long while, and that had nothing to do with sleep." He smirked and Porthos rolled his eyes.
This time the hand on his jaw was to push his face roughly away in teasing disgust.
Anne pushed open her apartment door, already dreaming of a cool, refreshing shower after the 5k she'd just run. Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her leggings and she fished it out, looking down at it as she pushed the door closed and turned to lock it. It was Beth, telling her they'd surpassed their fundraising goal.
She fired off a cheering GIF. Then she turned to face the inside of her apartment and promptly dropped her keys and nearly her phone as well.
"Holy shit!"
"Anne! Language, my darling. How uncouth."
Anne stared, wide eyed, at Louis, where he sat on her couch.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.
"My dear, get a hold of yourself," Louis snapped back, rising from the couch and dusting invisible dirt from his clothes. "You wouldn't return my calls, what else was I to do?"
"Take the hint, maybe?" she suggested icily, leaning down to snatch her keys off the floor. She kicked off her shoes and tossed the keys into the dish on the small entry table. She had a flash of memory from the night before, of dropping the keys towards the bowl and missing completely as Aramis had kissed his way down her jaw. She fought down the blush she could feel rising in her cheeks and turned back to face Louis, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Anne, you've had your adventure - spread your wings or what have you. It's time to come home."
"To you?" she challenged, eyebrow arching. "No thank you."
"We're to be married, Anne."
"Not anymore," she hissed, stomping towards him. "I thought my feelings on that were clear when I gave back the ring."
"As I said, you've had your tantrum and I've been very patient."
The vein on his temple throbbed and she knew she was pushing him, tempting his temper.
"I'm not coming back, Louis," she told him calmly. "I'm happy. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
Louis stared down his nose at her, blue eyes as cold as they'd ever been.
"This is not the life you're meant for Anne, you will see that in time," he said quietly.
She fought back a shiver, hearing the threat he meant to convey.
"Get out, Louis."
He pushed past her, brushing against her without any sort of care and knocking her a step to the side. She followed him to the door and slammed it after him, throwing the lock and then turning to lean against it. She sank down to the floor, giving in to the trembling of her legs.
"Deep breaths," she coached herself. "He's gone."
She pushed her hands into her hair, feeling the sweat and grime from the day. She sighed, pulling the tie from where it held the messy bun in place and letting her hair fall in chaotic waves around her shoulders.
She jumped when her phone vibrated again in her hand. She looked down at it and something in her chest loosened.
Aramis's name glowed at her from the lock screen.
She found herself smiling as she unlocked the screen to read the message.
'Waiting until I could call seems foolish. How was the event?'
'It went wonderfully. We surpassed our goal!' she replied quickly.
'Excellent news. Congratulations, Anne.'
She was trying to figure out what she could reply that wouldn't sound like she was desperately counting the minutes until he got back when another message came through.
'Can I cook you dinner next week?'
Before she could even begin a reply, another message came through.
'Porthos would insist I'm an awful cook, but he has no taste.'
She laughed a little but couldn't reply before he messaged again.
'Full disclosure: I may be an awful cook.'
She was smiling as she typed her own reply and didn't stop as she pushed send and climbed up to go shower.
'How about I cook for you instead. I make a mean lasagna.'
His reply came as she closed the bathroom door behind her.
'It's a date.'
There we are. Anne and Aramis's first date! I hope you enjoyed it! Sound off below to let me know!
Later gaters.