Porthos loves that Friday evenings in the House of the Wild Things, as he's taken to calling Aramis' home, are fantastically ordinary. In the first few months after they came back, D'Artangnan had dragged him, Athos and Constance all over Paris to weird, and sometimes wonderful but mostly weird, venues every Friday night. Being only twenty-eight, while the others were impossibly old and in their thirties, he had the energy for it and was keen to see Paris for all it was. After all- he'd come from Gascony, he'd followed Constance back to Paris; he was not as used to it as the rest of them were.
But in the House of the Wild Things, same as the week before, after Porthos and Aramis picked them up from school, (they insisted after he came last Friday that he has to come pick them up every day- Aramis had tried to tell them that they couldn't expect Porthos to do that- but Porthos claimed he didn't mind and had nothing better to do anyway) the children sit down around the table and do homework- or the older ones complete as much of it as they can. The only person who doesn't complain about having to do his homework is Leon. The others only promise to do it if Porthos sits with them, and then the older ones complain and grumble about the noise so they go to work in their room.
"Porthos will you help?" Leon asks, looking up from the homework he's been tasked to finish by Monday morning.
"I'm not good with school, never was I'm afraid, kiddo." Porthos tells him, very apologetically, and then hears Aramis snort. He glares at the back of his head. Aramis is making some sort of fish dish- it's a Friday and he is a Catholic after all- and Porthos' stomach is grumbling despite the massive lunch they had.
"That's a lie," Aramis says. "Leon what homework is it?"
"English," the little boy says dejectedly, scrunching up his nose.
"Porthos is good at languages- he can help." Leon looks at Porthos so hopefully, he pulls his glasses out of his cardigan pocket and puts them on, shifting over to help him. He should be able to do translations for a nine year old now really. Leon's homework is finished within five minutes, much to his pleasure, and he's allowed to go and do whatever he wants- which is apparently scouring the bookshelves for the thickest tome he can find, and then lying on his belly in the middle of the kitchen to read. Rene practices his alphabet while the girls continue to draw, and Porthos realises that Nannette has included him in the picture. It's only been two weeks since he's been part of their world, not even two weeks. But when your life has only been about 208 weeks long, he guesses that two weeks is a long time.
Porthos still has his glasses on when he's chatting to Rene about what he learned at school that day, and Aramis takes a deep breathe through the nose. He didn't realise how loud it was until Porthos turns and looks at him which is brow furrowed and lips slightly turned down. That look always means "are you okay?"
Aramis schools his face into a smirk. "You look like a grandpa with your glasses and cardigan on," he teases, and Porthos rolls his eyes to turn his attention back to Rene. You look really good with glasses and a cardigan on, is what Aramis actually wants to say.
"Papa likes people with glasses," Adalyn announces to no one in particular, continuing to draw. "And he likes cardigans." Aramis turns red and Porthos raises an eyebrow and laughs. Aramis looks up and prays that he'll get out of this with minimal teasing.
"Does he princess?" Porthos asks, and Aramis wants to melt into the floor like the butter is melting in the pan he's hovering over. Porthos' voice is full of mirth and Aramis wishes he could keep it together enough to whack him with a spatula.
"Mhmmm," she agrees, not bothering to look up at the man she's conversing with. "Papa has lots of cardigans and his other friends have glasses."
Aramis' eyes go wide and its pure fear that keeps him rooted to his spot. He's glad he's turned away from Porthos so he can't see his face. He hadn't gotten a chance to tell Porthos about… the other ones, the topic hasn't been addressed yet, and he really didn't want his four year old to tell those stories for him.
"I'll have to meet these friends with glasses."
Aramis nearly chokes on the wine he's just taken a sip of. It's Luke who comes to his rescue as he enters the kitchen to grab a snack.
"No you won't, Aramis doesn't really have any friends outside of you and Anne. And now D'Artagnan, Constance and Athos I guess."
"Have you been looking at my messages?" Aramis looks at his oldest son in shock, and he can't tell if he's more shocked or annoyed. Porthos tries very hard not to laugh.
"Sometimes," Luke shrugs in answer to Aramis' question, taking a bite into his apple. "But yeah Aramis doesn't really have other friends." Aramis thinks he can relax now.
"Nah occasionally he just has "adult company" who stay over," Celeste adds as she walks into the room. Aramis wishes a hole will open up in the floor and swallow him up, damn the stew. What's worse is the older ones know what that is, and they are laughing about it. In front of him. With Porthos in the room. Oh dear lord.
"Oi you two, stop making fun of your Papa," Porthos chastises, and Aramis might faint. Luke looks at Porthos, almost too stunned to speak. Celeste looks on edge and her fists curl up into balls. Porthos quickly realises what he's done. "Sorry- Aramis. Don't make fun of Aramis." He winces as Luke mumbles a "sorry" and storms out, Celeste running after him. Porthos has to restrain himself from swearing.
Leon sense something is wrong, and takes the little ones out of the kitchen and shuts the glass door behind him. Once Porthos is sure no one can hear him, he gets up and leans on the counter next to Aramis, who is aggressively chopping herbs. He won't follow Luke- at times like this it's best for Celeste to help.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry Aramis," Porthos says, not really sure what else to say.
"Luke remembers his parents. He was ten when he got put in the orphanage, because there were no aunts or uncles or grandparents or god parents. It's always been clear that I am not his Dad and I won't try to be, I'm like an uncle there to look after him after," he pauses and takes a deep breath, "after the accident."
Porthos swears again and rubs a hand over his face. Aramis continues.
"Celeste only doesn't mind calling me Papa because she never knew her parents. They left her on the church steps near the orphanage when she was two weeks old- like something out of a Dicken's novel."
"I'm gonna go apologise," Porthos says. Aramis smiles weakly at him- that would be a good idea- and then watches Porthos leave. He was his best friend for a reason.
Porthos walks past the little ones, who are wisely minding their own business in the living room, and knocks on the door that says "Celeste and Luke" in bright blue letters. It's Celeste that answers, and she slips out so he can't see or hear anything happening inside.
"What do you want?" She says, her chin held high. Porthos has to admire her for her loyalty. She used to like him- she told Aramis and Aramis told him- but the minute he hurt her brother she is cold as ice. He decides he likes her even more than before. She's only fifteen, but she's brave.
"I would like to apologise. I shouldn't have said what I did, and should have been more careful with my words." He looks down at her as sincerely as she can. She frowns and then moves away from the door. That was easier than Porthos expected. She slides down against the wall next to the door. She'll be waiting to make sure. Porthos walks into the room and shuts the door quietly behind him. Luke is sitting on his bed, holding something carefully in his hands.
"Celeste, if it's Aramis, tell him to fuck off I'm fine I just need a minute and it's not his fault- and the stupid boyfriend isn't worth his time if he leaves."
Porthos bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself smiling. Yes, he likes Luke and Celeste. Brave ones. Luke turns around at that point.
"Oh. Well you can fuck off too."
"I've not got any intentions of doing that," Porthos says quietly, dipping his head slightly.
"Oh."
"I wanted to come and say sorry. I should have been more careful with my words." Luke grumbles something that sounds like "ya think?" and keeps looking down at the thing in his hands. It's a photograph.
"Your parents?" Porthos asks, taking a step closer to the bed, but not going any further. Luke nods and then crumples helplessly. Porthos thinks it's like watching a star implode.
"Can I sit?" He asks quietly, and he gets another nod.
"I get it-" he begins but he really should have chosen different words.
"No you don't! What the fuck? How could you even begin to get it- don't give me the bullshit about divorced parents because that is nothing- at least both your parents are still alive!" Luke really doesn't care about hurting anyone today, that much is evident. He's glaring at Porthos, back in the offensive once more.
"They're not actually." Porthos keeps his voice perfectly level.
"Oh shit, well, sorry," Luke mumbles. He doesn't sound sorry. He doesn't sound anything but empty, and Porthos understands that.
"I grew up in the orphanage you went to." That sparks Luke's attention, and he turns to properly look at Porthos. "That's how Aramis knew about it. We've been best friends since our first day in the army- he knew everything about me."
"I still remember my mum, though. Well, I remember her smile. I was three when she died." Luke nods, at least he's listening.
"So, when people came to adopt me, I told them they weren't my Mamon or Mama or any of it, so I wouldn't call them that."
"Because it feels like a betrayal."
"Yeah, exactly that."
"I'm guessing you didn't get adopted?"
"Why I joined the army straight out of school. I had no money and no place to stay for university."
Luke nods, a small smile on his face. He opens his mouth to speak and then shuts it again.
"I love Aramis," he finally decides on, "but-"
"You don't need to justify anything. I get you. And don't worry- it's obvious you love him. First thing you said when I came in here made that evident."
Luke scrunches up his face. "Sorry about calling you stupid."
Porthos smirks, but he doesn't notice that Luke doesn't apologise for calling him Aramis' boyfriend, even though he knows that the two of them are just friends.
"I won't take it personally," he says as he gets up. "Come on, dinner's probably ready."
The two of them walk out and Celeste looks just about ready to bite Porthos' head off- if she could reach- until Luke nudges Porthos and says "thanks" quietly. Celeste blinks, trying to process what she's just seen. The boyfriend is still alive? After dealing with Luke? When he's angry? What the hell? She says as much to Luke, who just grips her hand and promises to tell her later.
Porthos looks behind him and smiles. He really should call Flea- he hasn't seen her for a long time. He enters the kitchen where the table is set and the little ones and Aramis are all sitting, waiting expectantly for the three of them. They all looked shocked to see that Porthos is still here, in one piece. Luke smiles at Aramis, who visibly relaxes.
"There's dessert right?" Luke asks as he sits, and just like that, everything is back to normal.