A/N: This is dedicated to the very wonderful FlyingMachine1 who gave me the prompt 'While Athos and D'Artagnan are out drinking, someone insults D'Artgnan and Athos doesn't take to kindly to that.' I know I haven't replied to your lovely, expressive reviews but I wrote you a drabble instead to make up for it. :)

The Drunken Adventures of Athos and d'Artagnan.

Usually it would have been the other way around, but for once Athos was not complaining about not getting enough to drink. He had made his way to the tavern with the sole intention of drinking himself into oblivion, and soon after he had been joined by young d'Artagnan.

There wasn't anything out of the ordinary there. Ever since he had pulled him out of that blasted fire, d'Artagnan had been keeping an eye on Athos through his drunken broodings. Athos had resented the attention in the beginning, but then having seen the non-judgmental look in the Gascon's eyes and heard the quiet plea to just let him be there for him, he had given in and acquiesced to his company.

But tonight d'Artagnan too had seemed to be in a foul mood. Athos had been curious enough to find out what had happened and had ordered strong wine for both of them, but had not touched his own. Sure enough, after only two glasses, d'Artagnan was telling him all about how Constance had been sporting a bruise on her cheek in the distinct shape of a handprint and how she wouldn't say anything when he asked about it and shouted at him instead for meddling in her affairs.

Athos had winced sympathetically – he did not envy the young man's inner turmoil of balancing his sense of honor with his undeniable attraction towards Constance – and he had ordered more wine. D'Artagnan had gone on to talk about inconsequential, silly things and Athos sat and listened, learning a great deal about the young Gascon boy.

Finally after a couple of hours when d'Artagnan had exhausted his desire to drown himself in wine and his endless repertoire of stories, Athos got up to pay the bar keeper and relieve himself before having to escort d'Artagnan home for the night.

D'Artagnan tried to protest when Athos hauled him to his feet and slung his arm over his own shoulders, ("I'm not some damn damsel in distress. Unhand me!"), at which point Athos let him go only to save him a second later from reintroducing his face to the table. The very drunk young man managed to look mortified and apart form a small huff, there were no more objections as Athos, being quite inexperienced in handling drunk flailing puppies, tried his best to manhandle him into an upright position and led him out of the pub.

They started to make their long way back to Athos's rooms, d'Artagnan not ready yet to face Constance's wrath. It was nearing midnight and apart from the guards and musketeers patrolling the streets, and the usual unsavory types, there weren't many people outside.

They passed a couple of musketeers and one of them called out, "Athos, have you nothing better to do than carry drunken idiots back home?"

Athos rolled his eyes at the jibe and grunted, shifting d'Artagnan's weight a little. "Sod off," he called out.

The musketeers laughed. "Really at the rate he keeps taking responsibility for these lost strays, he should think about getting married," the second one said, his voice carrying.

D'Artagnan made an indignant sound of protest, more likely on Athos's behalf than on being called a stray but Athos hushed him quietly. Now wasn't the time to go around picking fights over insulted pride. He had a drunken puppy to take care of.

They rounded the street corner and nearly walked into a small unit of guards coming from the other side. "My apologies, monsieur." One of them said, noticing Athos.

Athos merely grunted and kept walking, being very careful where their feet landed in the cobbled streets.

"God, it is unbelievable how that cocksucker has everyone wrapped around his fingers."

Athos froze.

D'Artagnan stumbled a little before noticing that he had stopped and Athos slowly lowered him down against the wall. "Stay here and don't move," he whispered to him.

Straightening up he turned around and rounded the corner again, calling out to the guards who were walking away. "Gentlemen, were you saying something?"

The guards stopped. "Nothing about you, monsieur," the same man who had apologized earlier said, his voice slick with forced politeness.

"Yes, but you were talking about my friend here." Athos started walking towards the men, his stance and voice deceptively calm and collected.

"We didn't say nothing that wasn't true," another one of them piped up.

"Aye, it's not our fault he is a smarmy little bootlicker who intends to sleep his way to the musketeer's garrison and…," the man speaking was suddenly cut off when he found a strong fist colliding with his face.

"Hey!" The man who had apologized earlier cast one look at his fallen friend and charged at Athos angrily.

Athos shot out an elbow which caught the advancing man in the throat and followed it with a solid punch to the gut. The big guard went down in a second. Athos ducked another one's poorly aimed swing and kicked out his legs from under him. Not waiting for the fourth man to attack first, he grabbed him by the lapels of his uniform and dug a knee in his groin which such force that the man crumpled without a sound.

A sound behind him caused him to turn. Another guard who had taken out a knife and had been about to attack him from behind staggered and fell, revealing d'Artagnan standing behind him with a stone in his upraised hand. The two men considered the groaning and moaning men around them and looked at each other.

"The next time any of you feel like opening your mouth to tarnish someone else's reputation, think deeply and carefully before doing so," Athos said, his voice ringing loud in the quiet street. D'Artagnan arched an eyebrow at him.

"What did I say about not being a damsel in distress?" he muttered, swaying on his feet. "I don't need you going around protecting my honor."

"Shut up," Athos told him, though he couldn't stop the smile on his lips as he slung the younger man's arm over his shoulders again. "I'm never letting you drink again," he promised.

D'Artagnan snickered. "Aw, I never knew you cared."

"You're awfully cheeky for someone who can't walk straight," Athos grumbled as they started walking again.

"It's not my fault." D'Artagnan murmured, burrowing into Athos's side, cold. "The floor is moving."

Athos shook his head, smiling fondly and wrapped his cloak around the younger man. D'Artagnan had helped carry enough of Athos's burdens in the short time that he had known him, without complaint. It was time Athos helped shouldered some of his own.

As always, I welcome any thoughts or ideas that you have. :)