The eight of them tumble through the door and into the flat in a flurry of noise and laughter. The Christmas show went as well as one can expect a dance show of five to ten year olds to go, but, as Aramis keeps on reminding him, Porthos played brilliantly. He rolls his eyes and shrugs off the compliments, but he feels more proud of himself than he has in a very long time.
Rene has gotten so used to saying "my Porthos" in front of all of his friends at ballet that he forgets to refer to him as anything else at home. Porthos hangs up everyone's coats on their pegs- the children had flung them in the general direction of the adults, too keen to get into the kitchen because they are too excited about Luke's promise of hot chocolate- and Aramis has run into the kitchen after them to avoid a disaster. He smiles when he hangs his own coat on his own peg- it's a physical symbol that he belongs here. He walks into the kitchen, and Rene is excitedly telling everyone, for the hundredth time, how his Porthos had heroically played a part of the piece twice so one of the girls had a chance to do her bit, because she forgot to run on stage the first time.
"And then, my Porthos-"
"Now now, Rene- Porthos is our Porthos," Aramis chastises, and Porthos hears the twins making loud sounds in agreement, and he registers the other three children nod, but he's too busy trying not to blush as Aramis smiles warmly at him. When he finally looks away, more than a little embarrassed, Celeste is looking at him- lips pursed, slightly squinting, with her hands clasped together in front of her on the table. She looks like a detective on a mission, and Porthos has to hook a finger under his collar to stretch it out, giving her a shaky smile. She raises an eyebrow and then looks away at Leon, who is shyly tapping her shoulder to get her attention. She looks at him with the same expression she gave Porthos, and he almost imperceptibly shrinks back, but she quickly schools her features into a soft smile and strikes up conversation.
Porthos sits down in Aramis' place, which does not go unnoticed by the children or his friend who has just turned around with the last two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands- one for him, one for Porthos.
"Well I never!" he exclaims, and Adalyn giggles. "The insolence of it all!" He continues, mock glaring at Porthos, who smirks.
"What are you going to do about it, old man?" Porthos teases, relaxing back into the chair. He's pretty sure he hears an "oh damn" from Celeste.
"Old man? I am two months older than you!"
"So you'll be forty before me." Porthos is grinning, and the children are laughing, and Aramis looks like a fish out of water- his mouth opens and closes multiple times, trying to come up with a witty retort. He decides against it, and instead just sits in Porthos' lap, dropping his weight into him. Porthos makes a sort of "oof" sound before laughing.
"You've put on weight in your old age." That earns him a slap to the chest. The children had stopped paying attention, but they are now, and Luke and Celeste are giving each other a look. Leon frowns.
"Aramis, aren't you a little old to be straddling Porthos?" He says "straddling" slowly- it's a new word he doesn't know how to use yet. Porthos' eyes widen and Aramis blushes to his roots. Luke is coughing and spluttering, trying to swallow down his hot chocolate and not laugh all at the same time, which the younger ones find endlessly funny. Leon looks confused.
"What did I say?"
"Nothing sweetheart," Aramis says, and pauses as he tries to find the right words.
"Aramis is sitting in my lap- not straddling it- you straddle a horse or a chair- you get the difference?" Porthos provides, and Leon nods. Celeste snorts and Aramis glares at her in the way that says don't corrupt your younger siblings, so she says nothing more. There's a few moments of blissful, innuendo free silence until Aramis speaks up.
"I know, since you lot have broken up from school now-" he's interrupted by Luke.
"Finally!"
"Yes finally- and Porthos has moved in, and since Rene did so well today-" little Rene beams at his Papa, "why don't we have a congratulatory, celebratory little Christmas party kind of thing?"
"When?" Celeste asks, "and who would we invite?"
"The 23rd," Aramis says. "Two days from now. And we can invite Athos and D'Artagnan and Constance- and Anne and the Louis', if they're around. And Abuela will be here- her plane lands that morning!" Aramis had asked his mother to Christmas this year- he and his sisters had a rota- and this year, he is lucky enough to have her with him. He'll need the extra help, even with Porthos around.
"I haven't seen your mum in years!" Porthos says quietly, as he does every time it's mentioned that she's coming for Christmas.
Celeste nods, it seems like a good idea. "The house will be fully decorated by then, right?"
"How about we do that tomorrow?" Porthos asks, and the twins cheer.
"I'll call them then," says Aramis, whipping his phone out of his pocket and leaning into Porthos, whose breath hitches unintentionally, but no one notices. Porthos pushes Aramis off his lap and herds the children into the living room. He half shuts the kitchen door, and Aramis can hear as he starts to teach the kids how to play Christmas carols on the piano.
He sticks all the mugs and the hot chocolate pan in the sink, and sets about calling his friends, sticking his phone on the window sill above the sink on loud speaker.
By the time he's gotten to round to drying everything up, he's gotten confirmation from D'Artagnan and Constance, and Anne has told him that she and Little Louis will be able to make it, but not her husband. He's working, apparently. Finally, he calls Athos. It goes to answer phone.
"Hi Athos! It's Aramis- look we're having dinner and drinks on the 23rd at our place, and it would be great if you could-"
Athos picks up the phone.
"You're throwing a dinner party."
Aramis makes a face. "No, it's dinner and drinks and Christmas games for the kids if they want them-"
"A dinner party. You're throwing a dinner party."
"No! Dinner parties are for couples. This is just me and Porthos and the kids inviting friends round for Christmas- a joyous time of year to be spent with loved ones."
"Fine. A Christmas dinner party."
Aramis pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out an irritated sigh. "It's completely platonic dinner and drinks."
"Just like that last completely platonic dinner and drinks that you invited me to when I was home on leave for a week?"
Aramis winces at the memory. That was how his last relationship ended, roughly a year ago. He'd been dumped, in front of all the kids- Leon hadn't been here at that point- and the guests, half way through.
He and Marine-Isabeau had agreed beforehand that they'd say they were just friends- completely platonic- to avoid any probing questions from his mother, who was staying for a week in Paris. She still asked, as mother's always do.
"What did you say your parents do, sorry?"
Marine-Isabeau had snapped at that point.
"Aramis, I can't do this."
Everybody looked at her, confused. Even the twins, aged two, stopped babbling on the living room floor, because something was wrong.
"We have to break it off." She continued, and his mother had covered her mouth with her hand.
"Oh Isabeau, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-" his mother started, but Isabeau had held her hand up to stop her talking, as if she were a child. Celeste had to physically restrain Luke- he'd never liked this pretentious girlfriend anyway- he didn't want to hurt Aramis' feelings so he didn't say. But now she'd been rude to Abuela. (Aramis' mother had never insisted that she were called "grandmother" by the children, but none of them minded. She was a fantastic woman to call grandmother.)
"I can't take the pressure of this anymore!" She said to Aramis, gesturing to the kids. "This family life! I'm not ready for it!" Aramis nodded calmly. He was expecting that. His last boyfriend had said the same thing, though thankfully more privately. "And when I do want to be a mother, I want to be a mother to kids who are my own!" He winced and Celeste and Luke looked more shocked than angry. Rene was hiding behind Celeste, scared but luckily not really understanding what was being said. The twins were gathered up into his mother's arms.
"And, if I'm being honest, I've met someone." He blinked at her dumbly. He was really trying not to cry. He wasn't sure if it was more embarrassment or if he was genuinely upset.
"Isabeau- could we talk-"
She shook her head. "He's less likely to cheat on me you know. Because he's straight. There's a smaller target audience." She looks slightly smug, and it makes Aramis feel sick.
Aramis can count on one hand how many times he's seen his mother get properly angry- not "angry at the man running the fish stall in the market because he wouldn't lower the price of the king prawns", but proper rage. This is one of the moments where she is properly angry. She even swears, but in Spanish.
"How dare you," she says quietly, dangerously. "How dare you insult my son, in his home, in front of his children? How dare you insinuate that he would be unfaithful- when it was you?" Marine-Isabeau immediately looks less smug. Aramis is just glad that Anne and her husband couldn't make it, so it's just them and Athos. Oh my god, Athos, he thinks. This was meant to be a relaxing welcome home dinner party for him. "I think it's time you left." His mother says, her voice more level now.
Athos was standing in the living room doorway with the bottle of wine from the kitchen so the adults could share it out between them, and Marine-Isabeau pushed him out the way, storming out of the house in floods of tears. Aramis had put on a smile for the rest of the evening, but cried into his pillow once everyone went home. The kids had piled in with him that night.
He'd asked Athos not to tell Porthos about that disaster of an evening.
"Athos please," he laughs, "I am The Heterosexual, you know that. Nothing happening between me and Porthos."
"You are a rampant pansexual and we all know it," Athos deadpans.
"Guilty as charged. Just tell me, are you coming or not?"
"There's booze, I'll be there."
Aramis huffs in exasperation. "It's so nice to know you love us."
"There's an us now?"
"DEAR GOD ATHOS, ME AND THE KIDS, HONESTLY!" Aramis all but yells down the phone, throwing his hands up in the air. He just knows that Athos is smirking. He can see it in his mind's eye- he's brushing an imaginary piece of lint off his shirt and smirking.
"Whatever you say, Aramis- oh and by the way- did you ever get around to getting two separate beds?" Athos drawls, and then hangs up on him before Aramis gets the chance to answer back. He glares at his phone. They hadn't yet- mainly because they couldn't afford it at that minute and had needed to save up money for Christmas presents for the kids, and also, they didn't really need it, did they? They were good enough friends, and grown up enough, to sleep in the same bed, none of that "no homo" nonsense (which wouldn't make sense anyway, since the both of them are very, very gay). And also, they've slept in tighter spots together when they were out in the field.
He's aggressively drying up when Porthos walks into the kitchen, looking a little sheepish. Aramis puts the mug away and starts pottering around to get dinner ready- comfort food would be good today, he thinks- so he grabs everything together to make paella.
That evening, while he and Porthos are changing to get ready for bed, Porthos is oddly quiet.
"What's up?" Aramis asks, and he turns to look at Porthos, who rubs the heel of his hand over the scar on his left eye.
"I was just wondering," he starts gruffly, "if I could invite Flea and Charon over on the 23rd? They're going to Flea's mum's place for Christmas, so I won't get to see them until the New Year, probably." He pulls a shirt over his head, and for a second Aramis thinks that it's such a disappointment that he does.
"Yeah sure!" Aramis says, unsure of why Porthos needs to justify himself. "It's your home and your party too you know." Porthos breathes out like he's been holding his breath for years- it's like watching a mountain move. Porthos smiles at him gratefully before going into the adjoining bathroom to brush his teeth. Aramis is already in bed when Porthos lies down.
"Thanks," Porthos says quietly, before rolling over and falling asleep.
Aramis is still awake at one in the morning.
"Porthos?" he whispers, and Porthos immediately rolls over to look at him.
"Yes, Aramis?" he whispers back, sleepily, and Aramis thinks he looks like a piece of art with the shadows of the stain glass window above them casting strange patterns over his face.
"I've had two relationships since I adopted Luke and Celeste."
"Okay.
"One just after I adopted them. It lasted five months. He broke it off because he wasn't ready to be part of a family."
"Okay."
"The other was a year after I adopted Rene, Adalyn and Nannette. It lasted two months." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "She still managed to cheat on me, in that time frame. I don't know why I liked her in the first place."
"Fuck 'em," Porthos grumbles, and Aramis laughs quietly.
"That is the last thing I want to do."
Porthos snorts, and then he holds his hand out into the space between them. Aramis reaches out and squeezes his fingers.
Aramis wakes up the next morning with his head on Porthos' chest, and Porthos' arm around his waist. He doesn't think he's ever woken up happier.