4
Hey guys, sorry for the delay. Thank you for all your kudos, comments and reviews they make me happy!
For this one I've gone with a request from Sharon on which was simply too delicious to ignore. This one is a little more light hearted than the previous three, hope you enjoy.
Aramis is having a bad day. Porthos just wishes he would admit to it.
…
By the time the sun had started rising, Aramis was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. He had next to no sleep and now had to get up and be a valiant King's Musketeer. He groaned and slowly sat up, trying his best to ignore the small throbbing behind his forehead from lack of sleep. He took his time bathing and getting dressed. He noticed he had a hole in his shirt and rolled his eyes as he took it off to mend it.
While Aramis was stitching the hole, his mind drifted to Porthos and what the larger man would say if he saw Aramis stitching clothing. Aramis grinned to himself, Porthos always teased that he could be a good seamstress. Porthos… Aramis frowned as he tied a knot in the thread. There was something he had to remember, something Porthos had told him about that was important.
With a jolt of realisation, Aramis dove off his chair and threw his shirt on, pricking himself with his needle in the process. He was supposed to be in Treville's office. Their captain had asked them to see him early, as soon as the sun had risen. He was late, very late.
Aramis threw his door open and dashed down the stairs, trying not to think of Treville yelling at him in front of everyone. His foot skipped a step and he tumbled down the last two and skidded on his chest in the dirt on the ground. He groaned in annoyance as he stood up, trying and failing to dust his now filthy shirt. He looked around the garrison and felt a little relieved when he saw that there was no one near to have witnessed his embarrassing tumble.
He bolted towards the stairs that lead to Treville's office and forced himself to calm down, lest he fall again. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Four faces turned to look at him. Athos glared at him then raised an eyebrow as his eyes fell to Aramis' shirt. d'Artagnan looked at him sympathetically and Porthos looked like Aramis was the last person on Earth he had expected to walk through the door. Treville's face however, was pure granite and he straightened his back and glared at Aramis as if he had just declared war on France.
"Aramis," Treville said, "kind of you to join us."
Porthos looked like he was about to say something but Aramis spoke before he had the chance.
"I'm sorry sir…" Aramis mumbled, trying his best innocent face, "I had a hole in my shirt."
Porthos raised a hand to cover his face in obvious frustration. Athos looked at Aramis as though he had grown another head and d'Artagnan looked like he was about to explode from the pressure of keeping his laughter in.
"You had a hole in your shirt?" Treville repeated flatly, "Funny, Porthos was just telling me how you weren't feeling well this morning and was going to relay the meeting to you once we were done."
Aramis felt his stomach drop. They always made excuses for each other, he should have assumed as much before he stepped in. Porthos, who was taller than the captain, actually managed to cringe and look apologetic when Treville's stony expression turned to him.
"I'm going to see the King," Treville stated flatly, not removing his glare from Aramis, "See to it that Aramis gets the orders for the day."
He walked around his desk and took his leave.
"A hole in your shirt, Aramis?" Athos snapped once the captain was gone, "Surely even you can come up with a better excuse than that! Which married woman was it this time?"
"I forgot alright!" Aramis snapped back, "And there was no woman, but my shirt did really have a hole!"
Porthos sighed and shook his head, "You should have stayed in your room, I had already covered for you."
Aramis lowered his head in shame, "I'm sorry."
"What happened to you?" d'Artagnan asked, "You're full of dirt."
Aramis took a deep breath, "I fell down the stairs."
"You what?" Porthos asked, stepping closer and searching Aramis for any possible injury, "Are you alright? Did you get hurt?"
Aramis shook his head, "No, I didn't fall far."
"We're on patrol today." Athos stated, "You're with Porthos. d'Artagnan and I will be patrolling the other side of the city and don't roll your eyes you're lucky Treville didn't make you shovel horse manure the whole day."
Aramis sighed and he left with Porthos to get a new shirt from his room and put on the rest of his uniform. When they finally made it to their assigned streets they were walking in a peaceful silence until Aramis heard Porthos chuckle softly.
"What?" Aramis asked, knowing exactly where this was going.
"I can't believe you used that excuse, seriously Aramis." Porthos said with a smile on his face.
Aramis looked ahead, surveying the busy streets, watching as people went in and out of the different shops.
"Well, it was true." He answered.
Porthos merely shook his head smiling, and patted Aramis' shoulder lightly.
The sun was rather harsh and Aramis could feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He looked up to Porthos walking beside him and could tell the man was also uncomfortable in the heat.
"Should we stop for a few seconds and stand in the shade a bit?" Aramis asked.
Porthos nodded and they found themselves standing against a wall beside a horse and cart, enjoying the blessed coolness of the shade. They both sighed in relief and watched the people go about their daily routines. Aramis felt something tug on his head and looked beside him to see that the horse had stolen his hat and was beginning to chew on it happily.
"Hey!" Aramis yelled and tried to grab it back. The horse simply lifted its head and moved it out of the way of Aramis' reach. Aramis reached and reached for it, but the horse dodged him every time. He was distinctly aware of Porthos' laughter behind him.
Aramis turned to glare at his brother, "A little help?"
"Oh but you're doing so well on your own, little brother."
Aramis' glare was full force; Porthos knew that Aramis hated being called 'little'.
Porthos was all smiles but eventually he gave in, "Alright, alright, don't go getting any holes in your shirt over it."
"That's not funny!" Aramis yelled, though he felt himself smile a little at the laughter coming from his brother.
Porthos reached over Aramis' head and grabbed the hat easily. Only the horse wouldn't budge. It dug its teeth deeper into the hat and yanked, giving a loud whinny of frustration. Porthos did not budge however and the entire scenario would have been amusing if Aramis hadn't suddenly heard an indistinguishable tear. Porthos ended up with most of Aramis' hat but the horse had a decent chunk in its mouth and began to chew it in victory.
"Sorry," Porthos said, holding the remnants of Aramis' beloved hat in his hand. He looked genuinely apologetic and Aramis felt his heart drop. That was his only hat and he felt frustration grow in the pit of his stomach.
"It's not your fault," Aramis said, patting Porthos' arm, "Thanks for trying."
He took what was left of his hat and tossed it to the ground by the horse, figuring the stupid beast might as well just eat what was left of the now useless material. Aramis looked at Porthos who had a tiny smile growing on his face which he was clearly straining to suppress.
"It is a little funny though," Porthos said cautiously.
Aramis dropped his shoulders in surrender, allowing a small grin on his face, "Yes, but only a little."
Porthos placed a hand on his shoulder and guided them back to the street, "Let's get back to patrol."
They walked in a comfortable silence for all of five minutes until Aramis almost broke his neck tripping over a rock jutting out of the road. Were it not for Porthos' reflexes, Aramis would have fallen for the second time that day.
"Who put that stupid rock there?" Aramis asked, slowly starting to come to terms that today was not his day.
Porthos chuckled as he helped Aramis straighten, "I'll bet the Cardinal placed it there just for you, brother."
Aramis glared at him and they continued walking.
"I have a theory," Porthos said.
"Oh?" Aramis replied, scanning the crowd ahead of them.
"Yeah," Porthos said, "I think you're just having a bad day, Aramis."
"A bad day?" Aramis asked, though he knew the words were true, "I don't have bad days."
Porthos huffed, "Everyone has a bad day once in a while. Yours just happens to be today. Maybe you just need a hug."
"Nonsense," Aramis said, "Today is a normal day, just like any other."
Aramis could feel Porthos smiling at him. They both knew how stubborn Aramis was.
The heat was unforgivable, especially without a hat. Aramis could feel his hair growing damp from sweat and hoped the day would go by fast. They had been walking another two hours when Aramis finally realised his face was getting sun burnt. He groaned inwardly and started to search the streets for something, anything that would make the day eventful and provide a good distraction. Why couldn't someone just rob a shop or something?
He mentally scolded himself for the thought and decided that a quiet day was a rare gift, especially for was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a weight on his head and felt his face being covered in shade. Aramis looked up at Porthos who had just placed his hat on Aramis' head. He lifted a brow in question.
"I can smell you roasting," Porthos explained with a grin on his face.
"But don't you need it?" Aramis asked, not liking the idea of taking Porthos' shade from him.
"Not as much as you, mate." Porthos said, "Besides, you look terrible, wouldn't want to chase the women away with that face."
Aramis rolled his eyes, "I would never chase women away, that is impossible."
Porthos chuckled and they continued walking.
"Thank you," Aramis said, "I'll return it to you in a few minutes."
"No need," Porthos answered cheerfully.
The streets began to quieten as the day drew to a close, and eventually they made their way back to the garrison. Aramis reached up to return Porthos' hat and the man chuckled lightly at the strain it took for Aramis to reach. They were near the garrison when a lovely young brunette marched up to them.
"Aramis?" She asked, raising a thin eyebrow at him in a scolding way.
Aramis thought she looked a little familiar, "Y-yes?"
She slapped him hard across the face, causing his sunburn to sting.
Before he even had a chance to ask her what her problem was she was yelling at him, "You said you would visit me for my birthday! You promised! And what did I find out this morning while visiting my friend Angelique? That you were with her! On my birthday!"
Aramis stood there a little befuddled, "I'm so sorry, um…"
She slapped him again, "Chantelle! My name is Chantelle!"
She shoved him away and marched back up the street. Aramis watched her with his mouth hanging open slightly. He could hear Porthos laughing next to him.
"You should at least try to keep track, Aramis." He laughed harder at the look Aramis gave him.
"Just admit it," Porthos said again, "You're having a terrible day."
"No!" Aramis snapped and marched ahead into the garrison.
…
Aramis found himself in his room an hour later, removing his uniform and stained pants. He and Porthos had met up with Athos and d'Artagnan to give Treville a verbal report of their patrol duties that day. Aramis had accidently knocked over a bottle of ink on the captain's desk and it poured all over the floor and on Aramis' pants.
"Just… go." Treville dismissed them all with an exasperated voice and Athos had all but pushed Aramis out of his office while he spluttered apologies. Treville had merely shaken his head at them, too exhausted from the blabbering of the King to honestly care.
Aramis decided to go pay his horse a visit in the stables, his mare always made him feel better. He brought her an apple which she was now happily chewing while he patted her.
"See?" Aramis mumbled to her, "Horses are supposed to eat apples, not hats."
"You always spoil that horse." Said a voice behind him
Porthos' voice startled him and as he turned around he hit his face on a wooden beam and yelled out a string of creative curses, that would have made Athos proud, as he rubbed his temple. He heard a small laugh from his brother and brought his hand away from his throbbing forehead. Porthos was standing there with a smile on his face, shaking his head.
Aramis sighed dramatically, "Can you believe this?"
Porthos shook his head, still laughing, "I know, who would put a wooden beam so low that it would be in the way of your head?"
Aramis shot him a look, "That's not funny and I am not the shortest person in the garrison!"
Porthos continued to laugh and opened his arms toward Aramis, "You ready for that hug yet?"
Aramis narrowed his eyes, "No, today is not a bad day; it is a normal day just like any other day."
He marched past his laughing brother and went to sit down at one of the tables to wait for whatever dinner Serge was cooking up. Porthos sat beside him seconds later and they were eventually joined by Athos and d'Artagnan.
"Aramis," Athos said, "Why is your face so read?"
"Ahorseatemyhat." Aramis mumbled quickly.
Athos looked on the verge of smiling, "What was that?"
"A horse," Aramis stated flatly knowing his brother had understood him, "ate my… hat."
d'Artagnan burst out laughing almost choking on the water he was sipping. Athos and Porthos sat there chuckling a little at Aramis' expense.
Aramis was getting annoyed, "Well, walking in the sun all day, getting slapped twice and getting wacked in the face with a wooden beam does tend to give a man a red face."
His brothers were laughing harder now and Aramis gave each of them an equally menacing glare over his mug of water.
"What's so funny," Serge asked as he handed them all a plate of stew.
"Aramis, it seems, is having a rather miserable day," Athos answered, accepting his food from Serge.
"You gotta have bad days to get to the good days." Serge said and went along to one of the other tables to feed more hungry musketeers.
"He's got a point," d'Artagnan stated, tucking into his food happily.
"Perhaps he would," Aramis said, "If it were a miserable day… but alas it is not, therefore what he said is irrelevant."
He received no reply other than three sets of eyebrows shooting up simultaneously in obvious disagreement. Aramis sighed and tucked into his food. As he ate, he steadily lost his appetite. His brothers may have found his red face amusing but Aramis was starting to get his headache back from being in the sun all day.
"You should put some salve on your skin," Athos said to him once they were done eating, "It will help to take the sensitivity away."
"What? No," Porthos said, "Then he won't look like an adorable little lobster anymore."
d'Artagnan broke out into another fit of giggles and Aramis stole Porthos' hat from his head and wacked him with it. Even Athos started laughing after that.
"How do you know it's sensitive?" Aramis asked.
Athos looked at him knowingly, "Have you looked at yourself in a mirror Aramis? It looks rather painful."
Porthos patted his head softly, "Sorry, I should have given you my hat earlier."
"Don't be silly," Aramis said, "I think I'm just going to go straight to bed before I accidently light the Garrison on fire or something."
As Aramis got up, Porthos raised a brow, "Does that mean you're admitting to having a bad day?"
"No!"
…
Aramis did look at himself in a mirror when he got to his room. Athos was right, he looked as bad as he felt. He found some cream to put on his face which was actually rather soothing. Deciding that nothing could possibly go wrong if he just sat on his bed and read a little, he took out one of his favourite poetry books and began to go through all his favourite ones.
His concentration did not last however, as his headache thrummed underneath his skull and he tossed the book away, utterly frustrated with himself. He heard a shuffle in the room next door to his and realised Porthos must have called it a night too. Aramis was tempted to go visit him but he refused to give in. Deciding that fresh air would do him some good, he crossed the room to open his window, only to slip the book he had just tossed on the floor and landed on his hands and knees.
"Seriously?" He said to himself, "Again?"
He stood up and dusted himself off, finally caving. He yanked his door open and marched to Porthos'. He knocked on the door and Porthos opened it, peering at him from inside. The look on Aramis' face must have said it all because he merely held his arms open, not uttering a single word. Aramis all but dived into Porthos' arms, shoving his face into Porthos' neck and chest, under his chin. He wrapped his arms tightly around Porthos who responded by tightening his own. Aramis sighed blissfully and relaxed for the first time that day. Nothing bad would happen to him with Porthos holding him. As Aramis felt Porthos rubbing circles on his back, he closed his eyes.
"I'm having a bad day," he mumbled into Porthos' shirt.
"I know." Porthos answered, placing a soft kiss to Aramis' temple.