A/N: Okay well this took a while and I'm sorry about that, but it's done now, and only one chapter to go! (and then I'll finally have finished at least one of my multichapter Musketeers fics!) hope you enjoy! Porthos chapter should be done soon.

Athos:

Hidden Talent - Ballroom Dancing

Early in the day, the four of them had been called into Treville's office and charged by the captain to undertake a mission of the utmost personal importance to the king. They would attend a party, as a noble with one or two servants, and deliver a letter to a Comtesse who was also a royal spy, detailing the parameters of her next mission. The letter had to be exchanged on the floor of the ballroom, with everyone watching, and no one seeing.

They all found the idea of it quite exciting, but it posed the problem of – who would play the minor nobleman?

Porthos and d'Artagnan would be too likely to slip into slang and be found out and likely killed, Aramis would likely attempt to sleep with the spy, which would anger her husband (potentially enough for him to shoot Aramis, God knows Athos had been tempted enough times himself). So that left only Athos, who could easily fall once again into the skin of a count – provided he didn't have to marry anyone, which he deemed unlikely in such circumstances.

Predictably, Aramis still volunteered for the role, when they were sorting out amongst themselves what the exact plan was after the captain had dismissed them.

"No, Aramis. The last thing we want is for an important asset to the kingdom to be compromised because someone couldn't keep their breeches tied." Athos disapproved, and Aramis pouted, but bowed to Athos' judgement. D'Artagnan wrapped a protective arm around him though and glared at Athos.

"I swear to God, if the next words out of your mouth are "he's not like that anymore", I will slap you, d'Artagnan" But the Gascon just snorted dismissively.

"He's honestly not – at least if I'm not there to join in-"

"Stop, please stop talking, I do not need to know about what the two of you do in your own time."

D'Artagnan, crude farm boy that he was, refused even to have the grace to be abashed. There was something quite refreshing about that, in a way, but this was really not the time for that nonsense.

"You started it" d'Artagnan reminded him, and Athos just grumbled whilst Porthos' chuckles reverberated through the room.

The mission went better than any of the others (save d'Artagnan, but he had an annoying habit of believing Athos could do anything) had expected. The Gascon had been disguised as a servant, so he was there to witness the event (which Aramis made him tell every little detail of), and he mostly just expressed that Athos danced with women the way he danced with a sword, dangerously beautifully and absolutely precisely. The Comtesse herself was blushing as the erstwhile Comte danced, and no one even noticed the exchanging of the letter, too enraptured had they been by the dancers before them. Even the Comtesse's husband had praised his skills, and Athos assured him that one dance had been quite enough for him, and he was more than happy to return to him his wife, as charming a partner as she had been.

He had regrouped with the others as they left and shed their disguises for their cloaks and pauldrons, relaxing into the familiar second skin of their uniforms. And all the way back to the garrison to report to the Captain, he had to endure their enthusiastic and loud appreciation for his elegant dancing skills.

He really was not at all sure why it had surprised any of them. It honestly made no sense for the men he called his brothers not to realise that he had been taught how to do this from a very young age, and that by now it was almost second-nature to him now to slip into that persona when he stepped onto the ballroom floor.

If he had known it was going to stymie all of them this much then he wouldn't even have mentioned it. Aramis was the most thoroughly bemused by his talent on the floor of the ballroom, second only to Porthos, who just stood and gaped (that might have been for another reason entirely, when he thought about it later, retrospectively). Out of the three of them, only d'Artagnan seemed unsurprised.

"I did say I was raised to be a gentleman, didn't I? Not as noble as a Comte, mind you, but dancing is a must if one is any sort of gentleman." He agreed now as they sat discussing the day's events. "And Athos has been a proper noble since birth. He could probably waltz before he could walk, since he didn't have to do things like help out on a farm or get dirt under his fingernails." He teased, and Athos resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The young Gascon never seemed able to resist a jibe at his nobility, not missing the chance to needle at every opportunity. He had the distinct feeling that Thomas would have adored this boy, had they ever been given the chance to meet.

" That is what we paid the servants for." He replied with casual ease, "getting their hands dirty so that we didn't have to."

"Such is the way with nobles, I've always found." Aramis agreed breezily. D'Artagnan nudged him gently and they share a grin. Athos didn't think he was ever going to get over how sickeningly sweet they were together.

"Such is the way with their wives, you mean? Or were they quite happy to dirty their hands with the likes of you?" He teased, and Athos marvelled at the casual allusion to Aramis' past in which he detected not one hint of jealousy, just genuine curiosity, seeing as he was fishing for information. D'Artagnan, it seemed, had learned many lessons in subtlety since he and Aramis had taken to spending more time together.

"Oh no, not always the wives, my dear boy." Athos watched the two of them and couldn't help but share a glance with Porthos at how easily their friends seemed to fit together, and he must have imagined that Porthos' smile was a little wistful because really - who would want him - a broken drunkard whose issues had issues?Let alone Porthos, who was light and love and joy and happiness, and brightened up a room just by being in it. No, there couldn't be anything in that look - it was impossible.

"I reckon I'd like to learn to dance, if it please his Lordship?" Porthos teased him, and he looked up to see that his friend was completely serious.

"Then I would consider it my duty to instruct you in the noble art of the dance, my good sir. And, incidentally, my pleasure." Athos replied with a smirk.

D'Artagnan and Aramis shared a look between themselves, a small, knowing thing, and watched with great amusement as their friends attempted to dance without letting each other know that they really wanted to touch each other in those places, and be that close together, for entirely different reasons than to step in time to music in a fancy ballroom.

D'Artagnan suddenly had a thought and leant over to whisper in Aramis' ear, causing the older Musketeer to snort with laughter, distracting the other two from where they had been pointedly staring at their feet to make sure no one stepped on anybody's toes (to avoid embarrassment that would be caused by staring longingly into each other's eyes).

"Something to share, Aramis?" Athos asked, his glare clearly needing work because the other man just grinned (but then it never worked on Aramis or he wouldn't have slept with the queen. And to think, that had been after he started whatever he had with d'Artagnan.)

"Oh no, our young d'Artagnan merely commented on how well you would look in a dress." he replied, and when he saw the embarrassed fury on both of his friend's faces, he knew it was time for he and d'Artagnan to run. They laughed merrily as they did so, leaving their friends to stumble over their words and feet and feelings in peace.