Aramis knew last night had been a mistake the minute she woke up to the sound of a door opening that morning. The man next to him groaned and rolled over in his sleep, pinning Aramis under him. Cursing silently she attempted to wake him but he didn't budge. While she'd been in these situations many a time they didn't usually occur when the husband's wife was downstairs.

"Henri!" The woman downstairs shouted and there was the sound of steps on stairs.

"Wake up." Aramis hissed, pushing at the man who only snored louder. He'd drunk a lot more than Aramis the night before and now he wasn't waking up. The door knob rattled and the door pushed open to reveal a scary looking woman with her hair tied up in a tight bun.

She took one look at the scene before her and Aramis held her breath wondering what she might do. Prepared to make a run for it Aramis didn't expect the tall woman to slam the door behind her. Puzzled Aramis once more attempted to push the man off of her with little avail. She was trapped under him. The sound of voices could be heard downstairs and this time Aramis did panic. What if the woman had friends who would come throw her out of the house? It had happened before and had been utterly mortifying seeing as the last wife who'd done it hadn't bothered with returning the clothes strewn around the bedroom floor.

Pushing another time at the man he grunted and woke up. Henri looked at her with bleary eyes before a wide smile filled his lips and he leaned in to give her a kiss. She couldn't dodge it and found herself pressed underneath the full warm weight of the man. At any other time she would have enjoyed it but not right now. "Your wife's' home." Aramis said when he finally drew for breath.

"Then take your money and get out." Henri said and Aramis felt herself bristle in anger.

"I am not a prostitute." She hissed angrily. At that moment she heard sirens heading towards the house and the cold hard truth hit her. Shit.

Ignoring the way Henri stared at her as she got dressed, Aramis quickly pulled on the dress she had been wearing the night before. A side glance in mirror made her eyes narrow and she swore harshly. The dress was a tight fitting one; one she rarely wore and one that made her look like a prostitute. Last nights' make up was smeared across her face and her hair was ruffled from last night's activities but she ignored it as she picked up her heels.

"I am not a prostitute." She glared at the man when he offered her a 50 dollar bill and stormed out of the room. The man's wife didn't say anything as she came down the stairs but she did slap Aramis hard enough for her head to snap backwards. Ignoring the annoyed woman, Aramis walked right past and into the arms of a waiting police officer.

He grabbed her hands behind her back, cuffing her and she calmly told her that she wasn't a prostitute. The police officer ignored her and said the rights act, making Aramis pale more and more. Vaguely she could hear the wife shouting at her husband about having 'whores' in her home and Aramis guessed this wasn't the first time this had happened.

"Sir, I'm not…" The man told her to shut up, shoving her in the back of the car rather unceremoniously. As the police car drove away, Aramis shuffled around in the back, blushing fiercely. The cuffs keeping her hands behind her back were making her arms ache and the way she'd been dumped in the back had made her dress hitch up until it was at nearly thigh length.

The man in the back with her didn't keep his eyes to himself and the woman driving up front was glaring in the back at her and Aramis knew what she must be thinking. Dirty whore. Shit, this was definitely not good.

…

Athos had a monster hangover so when his phone rang at 6 in the morning, on a Sunday, he was far from pleased. The voice on the other end said he had one of Athos' team members in custody at their station at the other end of Paris. He didn't say who and Athos racked his hung over brain for information on who it might be.

Setting the car into drive, Athos thought about which member of his team would be so stupid as to do something worth getting arrested for. The best bet was Porthos. The bigger musketeer didn't back down from a fight and could have easily gotten arrested for starting a bar fight. Or even just getting involved. D'artagnan was the least likely, not being one for causing too much trouble on duty. And Aramis, Aramis had been with a man all night, Athos having seen her go off with him the night before. Which meant it was most likely Porthos. Which meant Athos was not going to hold back any punches when he yelled at Porthos for making him get up on a Sunday. He was looking forward to telling Treville the next day.

That in mind, Athos entered the police station and gave his name to the desk sergeant there. He looked a little surprised but nodded, disappearing for a few minutes before returning. "Are you her brother or something?" The 'her' made Athos freeze in place.

"I work with her." Athos stated, taking out his musketeer badge. The man looked like he wanted to start laughing as if he didn't believe it but thought better on seeing the look that crossed Athos' face.

"We would have let her go if she didn't have a record." A record. Athos was seriously confused now. "I'll give you a couple of minutes." He said, opening the door to a holding cell.

Aramis was sat on the metal shelf that acted like a bed looking terrible. She looked like she'd just jumped from bed without having gotten changed the night before. The scent of alcohol was heavy on her, making Athos think she'd been drinking the night before. Maybe that was why she was here. Then again from the look of the short dress and the way Aramis blushed viciously on seeing him at the door, Athos could guess why she'd been arrested.

A dark bruise marred Aramis' cheek and Athos gently cupped her face so she was looking at him. "Did they?" Aramis shook her head, dropping her head so her hair covered her face. "What happened?"

"I was arrested." Aramis said, blushing when she looked at Athos. "Can we not talk about this?" Athos wanted to argue but realised that talking about this in a police cell probably wasn't the best thing.

"We'll talk about it alter." Aramis wasn't happy about that but she nodded her head in defeat.

Another police office, a woman, walked into the room and handed Athos the release forms. "She's lucky this isn't the first time the wife's done this or she'd be charged. What with a record like hers'?" Athos wanted to ask what record but decided that getting Aramis out of the building was for the best. The woman glared at her, giving her a dirty look as she passed and the desk sergeant wasn't much better.

"Whore." Athos would have turned and punched the man if not for Aramis who grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled him away. When they were seated in Athos' car, Athos turned around to face Aramis.

"What happened?" Aramis shook her head not meeting Athos' gaze and Athos realised she was embarrassed. "I'm going to need to know, Aramis."

"Please just drive." Athos didn't know what to say, Porthos was usually the one to comfort Aramis when she was upset not him. Awkwardly he gave her a one armed hug before driving back to his place. When they were about 5 minutes from the flat Aramis said, "Please don't tell Porthos or D'artagnan."

"Okay." Athos agreed.

The flat was in the same state it had been when Athos had left it so he told Aramis to go and get a shower and changed while he cleaned up. Most other times Aramis might have said something but she just nodded and did as she was told.

By the time she came back out her hair was soaked and she'd changed into a pair of old joggers, Athos had managed to clean the flat a little and had two cups of coffee brewing. "No explain what happened?" Athos said, handing her a cup.

Aramis sighed but relented this time. "I went home with a guy last night and his wife came home. She called the cops."

"She thought you were a prostitute." Athos regretted saying it when Aramis went a deep shade of red.

"Yeah, her husband must have brought some home before now. He did try to pay me."

"You should have taken it." Athos said, hoping to make a joke out of the situation but it only made it worse. A tear escaped Aramis' eyes and before Athos knew what was happening she was full on crying. "I'm sorry." Athos said, panicking as he pulled Aramis closer. She hiccoughed a little but didn't move from the contact.

"It's not your fault. Thanks for coming to get me." Aramis murmured into Athos' shoulder. Her eyes were still full of unshed tears but at least they'd stopped coming down. Athos didn't relinquish his hold though, knowing Aramis would want the contact even if she'd never say it. "Why are you helping me?"

"What?" Athos was shocked by the accusation. "Of course I'm helping you, you're my friend."

"I didn't think you'd want to talk to me again, what with my track record." Athos frowned when Aramis said this but then something in his head clicked.

"You?" Aramis nodded, her head bowed in shame. "Why? When?" Athos asked, wanting to know if she still did.

"When I was in University." Aramis supplied. "I needed the money." She said it like it wasn't a big deal but Athos looked a little gobsmacked.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Athos asked and Aramis looked up confused. "We'd never think any less of you because of that." Aramis smiled a little. "When was the last time?"

"A year before I met you." Aramis replied, leaning into Athos' body. Usually Athos would move away from the unwanted body but this time he wrapped an arm around Aramis and held her close.

"You haven't done it since." Athos asked and Aramis nodded. A sense of relief flooded the older musketeer and he said. "Promise me you'll never do it again."

"Promise." Aramis said, humming a little as Athos started stroking her damp hair. "You won't tell Porthos or D'artagnan."

"Promise." Athos said, grinning a little. "But we're going to have to tell Treville about you being arrested."

Aramis blushed a deep crimson but she was still smiling a little. "He isn't going to like that is he?"

"That's why you can tell him." Aramis turned, glaring at him but Athos only shrugged. "You did wake me up on a Sunday morning. This is your punishment."