"Porthos?" Aramis whispers, and Porthos rolls over to look at him. It's pitch black and Porthos doesn't need to see Aramis to know that he's crying. He can hear it in his voice.

"Aramis don't do this to yourself. Not your fault," he whispers back and reaches his hand out into the space between their beds. Aramis grips his fingers tightly.
"It is. It is my fault." Aramis says it with such conviction, that Porthos almost believes him. It was not his fault; it was the fault of the superior officers. They had told them to go ahead and attack with their soldiers. The superiors had been fed false information. It had been a civilian village- there was one gun in twenty houses. That was for shooting animals to get them off their crops. Two shots had gone off before they realised.
"I left them without parents. I left them to bury their parents."
Porthos feels sick. He has since that day. He remembers the look of horror on the children's faces, and he remembers the screaming grandmother, and he remembers Aramis cursing himself for being a good shot, cursing his hands. He remembers the rest of the troops leaving, but waiting for Aramis who was repeating the only word he knew in Pashto to the grieving family. He'd told Porthos later that if he only said "sorry" until the day he died, it still wouldn't be enough.

They are only twenty-two and he feels far older than he should. He grips Aramis' hand tighter. Aramis asks Porthos what orphanage he grew up in in Paris- because one day he's going to right his wrongs.

Porthos shook his head, trying to clear it. That was the first year that they were out there- fourth year being in the army. Aramis had stayed for five more, and then he was sent home. Porthos had stayed for four more after that. And at thirty-one, he feels ancient, compared to "too old" at twenty-two.

It's been two days since he's seen Aramis- they were reunited on Sunday, went for coffee on Wednesday morning which turned into staying for lunch and then dinner, and it's now Friday- and Porthos still misses him. They've been texting and Porthos isn't afraid to smile at his phone when he sees Aramis has replied. Today, Aramis has invited him over for lunch- it will just be the two of them since the kids are at school.

Aramis opens the door in a flowery apron. "Perfectly punctual, as always." He leans in and kisses both of Porthos' cheeks, like any Parisian does. It makes Porthos laugh. Aramis shuts the door and goes back to whatever he's cooking- whatever it is, it smells delicious, and Porthos goes to hang his coat up on a peg. He notices then that each peg has a name above it, and he hangs up his coat on Aramis' one. He follows his nose into the kitchen, and stands behind Aramis, crowding his space a little, but the other man doesn't seem to mind one bit.

"Fish soup?" He asks and Aramis pulls away to go and get a spoon so Porthos can taste it. Porthos moans when he does, and Aramis would be lying if he said he didn't like that sound more than he likes fish soup. And he likes fish soup. A lot.

"Good?"

"I forgot how good you are at cooking."

"I guessed that when you insulted me the other night and Celeste had to come to my rescue!" He tuts and flicks the spoon that Porthos is holding in front of him, so it hits him in the face. Porthos laughs and wipes the soup off his nose and onto Aramis' apron.

"Thanks for that," he laughs- it's a rumble that comes from deep in his chest and Aramis has to stop his inner twenty year old self from emerging and reminding him of all the reasons he had a crush on (read as: was in love with) the man in front of him- for two years, maybe more.

When he finishes cooking, he sets some aside for Leon- it's his favourite, he tells Porthos- and then the two men have no issue finishing the rest of it off. By the time they are finished and have washed up, it took a while- there were too many stories to tell, it's late enough for Porthos to head off because Aramis has to go and pick up the children from school.

"Why don't you come with me, you've been pretty much the only topic of conversation in this household since Sunday. They'd love to see you." He scratches the back of his neck- his tell when he's nervous and Porthos knows it so he stops as soon as he realises. Aramis knows Porthos isn't scared of the kids like others have been over the years, and he knows Porthos isn't going to up and leave him alone because of the kids, but he's still cautious. Call it social conditioning.

"Yeah, why not?" Porthos agrees with a toothy grin- it's almost endearing how nervous Aramis is. Aramis visibly relaxes and grabs their coats and his keys, and the two of them head out to get the little ones. Apparently Celeste and Luke would "die of embarrassment" if they got picked up from school. Aramis mimics their dramatic antics perfectly.

They stand by the school gate with the other parents, and Aramis is mortified by the fact that all the other mums keep on looking at Porthos and then turning back to their little circles to discuss who he is and whether he's Aramis' boyfriend and if he's single. He's apologising to Porthos again, who is finding the whole situation rather funny, when they get interrupted.

"Porthos?" They both turn around to see a smiling Anne. Porthos grins and hugs her- "I haven't seen you in years!" Aramis hugs her as well once she's let go of Porthos and has stopped berating him. Honestly, how could he have not emailed her the minute he got home? Is he back for good? Porthos tells her he's sorry and that yes, he's back for good. Anne gives Aramis a sly glance and a smirk before telling them that she's awfully sorry but she has to rush off to go and pick up Louis. They both wave bye and Porthos asks what the smirk was for, but Aramis brushes him off with a quick and high pitched "nothing" so Porthos changes the subject.

"Louis doesn't go here?" Porthos asks and Aramis looks at him as if he's mad.

"As if her husband would allow that. Not a private school for his precious boy? No way - so he goes to the international school down the road- but she wanted him to go here. That's how I knew to send my lot here- if it has her recommendation then it's bound to be good." His voice has dropped to its normal pitch again, thank God.

Porthos nods thoughtfully in agreement, and then the bell rings. Rene has Adalyn and Nannette holding his hands, and Leon herds them along from behind.

"You moved him from his old school?" Porthos asks, watching the older boy. He knows how orphanages work- the kids move to different parents, and if it's possible, they stay in the same school to maintain a level of normality in their lives. Makes it easier if they get given back.

"He asked to be moved."

At that point, the four of them spot Aramis and Porthos and come running. Well, the twins and Rene run- Leon tries to pretend he's cooler than this but the small smile on his face shows he's still excited.

"Papa! Porthos!"

The other mothers get momentarily distracted from their own children. The children know him and are excited to see him so he must be the boyfriend. Or an uncle or old friend of sorts but boyfriend is so much more fun.

Porthos braces himself for the impact as the twins run into his legs. He picks up both of them and they hug his neck, and Aramis- who has Leon holding one hand and Rene holding the other- is looking at Porthos in a way he hasn't before. It's a mixture of pride and something Porthos can't place. Porthos smiles at him and his eyebrows furrow slightly, which makes Aramis blush in self-consciousness. He looks to the boys.

"Shall we take these princesses home then?" Porthos asks. He makes a mental note to ask if Aramis is alright later when they are alone again.

Leon and Rene nod and giggle along with the girls, and Aramis swears he sees one of the mums swoon out of the corner of his eye. He's not surprised, in fact he empathises- Porthos is great.