Sixth prompt: Aramis is sick. Athos takes his duty as his commanding officer in this regard very seriously.
A/N: I'm probably more on point with this prompt, in matching it to the original prompt, than most of my others. Prompt was for Aramis falling ill with Athos looking after him. As with some of the other prompts in here though, it was so long ago when I copied it down thinking I might like to write a fill for it one day, that I have no idea where the original prompt is.
Reliance
-o-
"Aramis, don't move."
Aramis froze, curling his fingers around the bed frame and peering over at his commanding officer through bleary eyes.
Athos finished pouring water into the washbasin, measured in his actions. Then, with hands free, pivoted to leverage the force of his command through a glare.
"But…"
"Aramis."
Aramis fidgeted clumsily, disgruntled, then slumped back, drawing his legs back onto the bed and submitting to the order with bad grace. "Yes, my liege. I remain, as always, yours to command."
Athos smiled tightly despite the bite in the sarcasm. "I am not your liege — I am your commanding officer. A much more powerful claim on your obedience, I should think you'd find."
Aramis huffed, bending his knees up weakly and digging his bare toes restlessly into the bedding. "Of course," he conceded sardonically, though his voice and face had already lost the energy of his discontent. He closed his mouth, breathing through his nose. His paleness had suddenly increased, having attempted more movement than his body could afford. Regardless, after a few breaths, he opened his eyes and persisted. "Though I think you should find I am not so ill that a turn about the room and a glance out the window would do me harm."
Picking up the basin, Athos moved it over to the table by the bed, lifting the cloth off the rim as he took a seat near Aramis' hip. "I disagree, and if you were thinking clearly, no doubt, you would as well." With one hand, he braced the side of Aramis' neck, and with the other ran the damp cloth over his face — over his forehead and down his jaw.
Blinking weakly, Aramis directed a long glance out the open window, at the rain falling steadily beyond it, upon the vegetation and the woods. "It is a fallacy that proximity to rain will always make an ill man worse — I'm convinced of it."
Athos wrung the cloth out and continued his task. "It is not gazing at the rain I am determined to keep you from."
Aramis peered back at him, slowly, suspiciously clear-eyed in this sudden evaluation of Athos, despite the lingering and heavy edge of fever. "Have I been ill so long?" he questioned.
"Long enough that I will not tolerate dissension just now," Athos answered, more sternly seriously than he'd intended. He sighed, wrapping the cloth over his hand and smoothing it under the back of Aramis' neck. "Especially from you."
"Have I aggravated you so? You look tired," Aramis mumbled, eyes brightening.
Athos softened, appreciating that the current worry Aramis was spouting was at least coherent, if still too weakly spoken. He wrung the cloth again, settling it near Aramis' hairline, then shifted to his knee to leverage himself over his brother so as to stretch out on his other side. Situated slightly higher than his charge, he curved a loose arm over Aramis' head and pressed his hand back to the cloth, gently keeping it in place.
Aramis shivered, then relaxed, closing his eyes as Athos rubbed a thumb back and forth into his hair.
"You worsen each time you attempt to tax your body with too much movement," Athos explained softly. "I require you to rest and plan to ensure it. In the absence of a physician and your own good sense, and as we are too far from any other particularly useful aid in in this regard, you will do as I say."
Aramis sighed, turning his chin in toward Athos' ribs without opening his eyes. "I will do as you say," he promised. "As if we were on a battlefield."
"That is only marginally reassuring."
"I have not intended to cause you such worry. Truly, I'll do whatever you suggest … if you will rest as well."
Athos closed his own eyes, listening to the rain and to the steady ins and outs of Aramis' breaths. "That is more reassuring."
Without looking, he could feel the soft rise of Aramis' smile, even through the weariness and heaviness of his lingering debility.
"As it is meant to be … my liege."
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