Should have been a seamstress

Porthos grunted as the knife skimmed his side. He was fighting close quarters with the drug dealer they'd been sent after, tough somehow the file hadn't said the guy used to be marine and fought best with a knife in his hands.

At first, the mission had seemed easy enough. Find the drug dealer. Bring him in. Things were never easy with their unit though. Two weeks later they'd managed to track the dealer to a farm just outside of Paris. Thinking they wouldn't need to back up, they'd rushed in ahead only to find said drug dealer running for his car. He'd already managed to knock Athos out with a well-aimed hit to the head so Porthos had left Aramis with Athos as he ran after the dealer.

Except Porthos had been ambushed by the drug dealer and was now losing blood fast. Fighting one handed turned out to be a pretty shit idea to, as he soon found out when the guy managed to get a punch on his injured side. Lucky hit, Porthos thought as he stumbled away from the dealer.

A sudden burst of movement appeared from Porthos' side vision and the drug dealer turned, swiping at Aramis. Luckily she managed to dodge the blow and even got a hit in. Porthos had taken to teaching her hand to hand combat after the incident with Antonie Harolds and h couldn't help the feeling of pride that bloomed as she held her own. Shaking his head, Porthos came up from behind the man as Aramis disarmed him. Soon he was an unconscious mess on the floor from a hit to the side of his head from Aramis' pistol.

"You're bleeding." Aramis stated, trying to prod at the wound.

Porthos only pushed her away, saying "It's just a scratch."

"It doesn't look like a scratch." Aramis muttered and Porthos looked down to find she was right. The so called scratch was bleeding right through his top and this was his favourite top.

Ignoring Aramis' concerned glances, Porthos made his way back to where they'd left Athos. Aramis was hovering next to him the whole time, probably waiting for him to fall over. Well, he wasn't going to. Porthos was adamant this was just a scratch and nothing more.

Athos was leaning against a wall with a make-shift bandage wrapped around his head. On closer inspection, Porthos saw it was the blue sash that Aramis had taken to tying around his slacks as if to use as a belt. "Let me see." Aramis finally said as Porthos sat on the floor next to Athos.

"It's fine." Aramis gave him a look that clearly told him not to argue as she pulled the shirt away from the wound. He hissed as she did this and didn't miss the flash of sympathy that crossed her face. "Stop that." He feebly pushed her hands away as she explored the wounds but Aramis only glared and went back to doing so.

"It needs stitching." She finally said, leaning away. Porthos paled at that, he didn't like stitches. "Stay."

"I'm not a dog." Porthos shouted at Aramis' retreating figure. "Where's she going?"

"Maybe to see if she can get a signal." Athos replied, his words a little slurred. On closer inspection, Porthos saw that Athos' eyes were a little dilated and glazed over and thought briefly that he might have a concussion.

10 minutes later, Aramis reappeared with a box she must have taken from the back of the car. "I put the dealer in the back of the car." She stated simply as she kneeled in front of Athos. "Try to stay awake." Aramis finally said, moving back to Porthos. Athos mumbled something but it wasn't very clear.

"What are you doing?" Porthos inched away as Aramis went into the box of what Porthos now saw was medical supplies.

"Stitching you up." She replied simply, taking out a bottle of disinfective and a cloth. "Hold still."

"Shouldn't we wait until the medics get here?"

"No signal and you'd bleed out if we don't stitch it now." Aramis said it as if she did this daily and Porthos paled once more.

"The paramedics are more qualified." Porthos said, trying to edge away from Aramis but she had him pinned by the wall.

"Don't you trust me?" Aramis smiled radiantly at him.

"I trust you, just not with stitching me up. It's not like mending clothes."

"That my dear Porthos is where you're wrong. It's exactly like stitching clothes just with more blood." Aramis replied sweetly, rubbing the cloth over the wound.

Porthos hissed as Athos turned his head to them and asked, "Have you done this before?"

"Yes." It was clear they wanted her to elaborate as she continued as she threaded the needle. "When I was in Afghanistan I was like the field medic." Aramis replied simply. "This is nothing compared with what I've seen before." Athos and Porthos frowned, having not heard her talk about her past before. They knew she'd had military training, hell it was a requirement if someone wanted to join them, but to hear she'd actually seen action. That was surprising, though Porthos thought no completely unexpected either.

Gritting his teeth, Porthos didn't pull away this time as Aramis came towards him with the needle. "This will hurt."

"I've been stitched up before." Porthos gritted out, sending a glare at Athos before the older man could say how well that usually went.

Aramis cocked an eyebrow but shrugged. "Don't move." She brought the needle though the skin for its' first stitch and had to duck as Porthos flailed. "What did I say about not moving?" Aramis glared at Porthos, who only smiled apologetically.

"Porthos doesn't like getting stitched up." Athos said, rather unhelpfully off to the dies.

"Great, how do you usually stitch him up?" Aramis asked.

"We knock him out." Both Aramis and Porthos looked at each other and shook their heads. Porthos because he didn't want to be knocked out and Aramis because she seriously doubted she actually could knock the larger musketeer out.

"I'll try not to move." Porthos mumbled as Aramis brought the needle back through the skin.

"How about you keep Athos awake, it might help to keep you distracted." Aramis stated, seeing the way Porthos jumped every time the needle entered.

A background noise of Porthos and Athos talking about nonsense appeared as Aramis stitched Porthos up. It helped a little but the bigger man still stiffened or jumped whenever the needle went through skin. Finally she was done and tied off the thread. "Now your turn." This time it was Athos who paled.

"It doesn't need stitching." Athos argued but Aramis still went over to him. Taking off the blue sash from around Athos' head, she hissed in sympathy as she repeated the process of cleaning the wound.

"You can pay for my drycleaners bill." Aramis muttered, looking over at the wreck that was the blue sash. Athos only hummed in agreement and Aramis had to slap his face to get him to focus again. "What did I say about staying awake?"

"You're like a scary mother hen." Porthos muttered as Aramis stitched Athos' head. Luckily, Athos seemed to be able to cope with the stitches as he didn't move at all throughout the process.

"How do you do that?" Porthos asked, disbelievingly as Aramis tied off the thread.

"Athos' blood is 99% alcohol." Aramis replied but Porthos shook his head.

"No, the stitches." Aramis blushed a little as she looked at where Porthos was pointing at the neat row of stitches.

"You should have been a seamstress." Aramis laughed a bit at that.

"Can you walk?" Aramis asked, helping Athos from the ground. The man practically fell and Aramis grunted a little as Athos' full weight appeared at her shoulder.

"Yeah." Porthos said, going to stand up, still clutching his side. It turned out to be a mistake as he ended up standing doubled over to release the pain.

"I'll come back." Aramis said, giving the bigger man a glare that clearly said stay there if you value your life. Not wanting to argue, Porthos did as he was told.

A few minutes later Aramis appeared and helped Porthos to his feet. He felt guilty as Aramis was carrying the majority of his weight, which didn't seem possible seeing as she was such a slender build and he was…well not.

Somehow, though she managed to get him situated in the back of the car, with Athos drooling a little on his shoulder. "Do not let him sleep." Aramis said sternly, putting the car into first gear and driving away from the building. A grunt was heard coming from the boot and Porthos realised that that must have been were Aramis put the dealer. A satisfied smirk on his face, Porthos started to get Athos to talk as Aramis drive them to the nearest hospital.

…

"You're staying with me." Aramis said as they piled back into the car. Athos had a concussion and was told, strictly, no alcohol and Aramis doubted the man would listen to that at all. Apparently, Porthos didn't need anything doing to him, seeing as Aramis had already stitched him up, so the only thing he got was some pain killers.

"We'll be fine." Athos said but even from Aramis' position at the front she could see the older man was still a little pale and dazed.

"I'm sure you will but knowing my luck you'll only keel over and die on me if you aren't supervise, so tough."

That was all that was said on the matter and soon they were parking outside Aramis' flat. Neither man had been there before, preferring to crash at Athos' after a particularly long night. The flat, Porthos thought as he walked inside, was typical of Aramis. There was a large sofa and armchair scattered seemingly at random on the floor with the kitchen tops scattered with all sorts of kitchen appliances.

"Athos can take the guest room and Porthos you can take mine." Aramis said. Athos only nodded and walked over to the room Aramis indicated.

"And where will you sleep." Porthos asked, already knowing the answer.

"The couch is comfy enough." Porthos was about to protest but Aramis got there first. "You're injured and if I recall when I was you let me crash in your bed and you don't have a guest bedroom. I'll be fine here and it's only for one night." Knowing he didn't have a leg to stand on Porthos nodded.

"Thanks." Aramis only grinned brightly as Porthos walked into her bedroom, intent on sleeping until late tomorrow morning. He knew Aramis had already sorted it out with Treville and they didn't have to be in the office tomorrow so that was a bonus.

Porthos sank onto the bed, after going to tidy himself up in the bathroom which was covered with all sorts of product Porthos had never heard of before. The bed was comfy and spacious and smelled of Aramis' perfume. It wasn't long until he'd drifted off to sleep.

He woke sometime in the night, thirsty so Porthos made his way silently into the kitchen. As he rummaged in the cupboards, looking for where Aramis kept the glasses, he couldn't help a small smile at the form of Aramis sleeping on the couch. She'd somehow managed to curl herself into a tight ball of covers and dark brown hair. Smiling, Porthos wondered how lucky they'd been that Aramis had been the one to walk through their office door.

As always thanks for reading and please review :)