Porthos and Aramis take the children to the Louvre in early February. Leon had wanted to go, and they couldn't deny him such a sweet request, so they packed a rucksack of snacks and extra layers of clothing, got on the underground, and headed for Paris' first district.
Leon sits on the corner of the marble steps in the hall of statues that then leads to the Emperors rooms. His tongue is stuck out of the corner of his mouth, and he's concentrating on drawing a statue of one of the Greek gods. Porthos is watching him from a few metres away, leaving him to draw in peace. It's one of the quietest areas of the museum- he dragged Porthos there, leaving Aramis and the other five three or four rooms away- and he's been perched in the same spot for half an hour. Occasionally, there's a frustrated sigh and a tear of paper from somewhere on the other side of the room. Probably an art student, Porthos thinks.
He's quite surprised when an old woman stops to look over Leon's shoulder at what he's drawing, rather than looking at the statue. He tenses and gets ready to interrupt, hooking the other strap of the backpack over his shoulder. Leon doesn't notice her until she speaks.
"What are you drawing?" she asks, and Leon blinks up at her before pointing at the statue and then looks down again, continuing to glide his pencil across the page.
"It's very good," she tells him, and Leon shrugs. She looks around the room. Probably looking for a parent, Porthos thinks, and then she spots him.
"Your son has talent," she tells him. Porthos gives her a tight smile as he walks over; not bothering to tell her that Leon isn't his son. He kind of is, a small part of his mind tells him.
"I know," he says, looking down at Leon, who has snapped his book shut and is now standing behind Porthos.
"I don't ever get to see unfinished work," he says, reaching out so Leon can take his hand. His little hand is dwarfed in Porthos' own. The lady insists on continuing conversation and Porthos smiles and nods, not really paying attention, just hoping that Aramis will come and save him from her beady stare. He's never been very good at getting out of unwanted conversations.
"Where is your wife?" she asks suddenly, and Porthos is brought promptly back into the present. Before he gets a chance to answer, he hears Adalyn's voice.
"There they are, Papa!"
He turns to see Aramis with Adalyn in his arms, and Nannette holding his hand and Celeste's. Rene is sitting on Luke's shoulders. He feels a rush of love for them all, and it makes his brain short circuit. In that instant, he knows that he could never leave them. Not even if God willed me to do so, he thinks, but it's Aramis' voice he hears in his head. It's Leon's hand in his that grounds him, and stops him stumbling with the weight of this revelation. He turns back to the old woman, who seems very confused. It would be comical, aside from the fact that it was her bigotry causing the expression.
"I don't have a wife, madame, but over there is my husband and our other five children." She looks astounded, and Leon is pressing his lips together in an attempt not to laugh. Porthos winks at Leon and tells him to head over to "Papa". The woman looks offended at the sight of them all.
"Two men? Raising six children? Sacre-bleu they will never turn out alright!" She looks up at Porthos and tuts. "Have you no shame? Corrupting these children? They deserve better homes! With proper parents!"
Porthos remains calm on the surface, but he can feel his temper rising. Aramis hands Adalyn to Celeste and takes a step forward, but Porthos speaks.
"Madame, I assure you we are providing them with the best home we can. We love these children more than anything I would ever be able to articulate. We cannot measure it or quantify it, because our love for them, it is infinite. Isn't that the measure of a proper parent?" He doesn't know where the words are coming from, but he does know they are true. He loves each of them with all his heart and soul, and would do anything to keep them safe and happy. He couldn't live without them.
"And I don't see why I should have any shame for loving someone," he adds. "Love knows no boundaries, and I am proud to love my husband. There isn't a better man on this earth." And it's true, it's not just an act to put some stranger in her place. He is proud to love Aramis, and he really, truly loves him. He thinks that, just maybe, he always has.
He hadn't noticed that Aramis had walked up to him, but Porthos does notice that when Aramis intertwines his fingers with his own, he feels invincible.
The old woman walks away with a huff, and Porthos vaguely registers a call of "well done, my friend!" from the other side of the room- the frustrated art student, he thinks, and he can see the smiles of the children, but he's too busy looking at Aramis and taking in his smile. His skin is creased around his eyes, which changes the shape of the tiny white scar on his cheek ever so slightly.
Aramis runs a calloused thumb over Porthos' knuckles. "That was quite a performance, Monsieur DuVallon. My knight in shining armour, it seems." He pauses and corrects himself. "Our knight in shining armour."
Before Porthos can tell Aramis that it wasn't, it wasn't a performance; he meant every word of it- he loves the children more than he thought he could love anybody, and he loves Aramis the same- Aramis has let go of his hand and turned on his heel, telling the children to move along. They would go and have lunch outside- yes, Celeste, even in the freaking cold.
Celeste looks at Luke and lets Adalyn slide down her side to the floor, before dropping behind to walk with Porthos. She slips her hand into his, and Porthos lets out a shaky breath.
"You really love Papa, don't you Porthos?" she asks, looking up at him. Porthos looks at her with a sad smile.
"I meant every word I said, ma petite. I meant every word."
Celeste squeezes hand.
Aramis walks with Luke by his side. The other children are ahead, and Luke speaks quietly.
"You know he loves us right? He meant all of that."
"I know he loves you all, mon cheri. He loves you all with all that he his. How could he not?"
Aramis walks away before Luke can argue.