Porthos (praiseandglory) wrote in valloic, @ 2020-09-17 21:50:00 |
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When sleep came, Aramis wasn’t usually far behind Tristan these days, with the orphanage and spending the rest of his time chasing after said happy toddler, he had more interest in sprawling out over his empty bed than he did going out searching for companionship.
It didn’t hurt that he liked the companionship that was already here. Quiet with Athos when he wanted it, helping Porthos in the kitchen, an easy family feeling when he was with them. Add in a quiet, ghostly bear cub that had picked today of all days to follow him around. It was cute and cuddly, but didn't stop his heartache, and he hadn’t slept well since before the speed dating event. Seeing Porthos give all of his attention to his partners made him nervous. Jealousy was an odd feeling for him, but the budding nature of his feelings had been swelling for some time now and he was finding it impossible to keep the lid on as he had before.
That was what brought him to the doorway of their kitchen now, cub in tow, after he’d said too much on the lovely Pike’s post. But if not now, when? Never? Would he watch Porthos move on with his life, start a new family?
The thought brought a frown to his face, and Aramis looked far more brooding than usual and left a glare directed at Porthos’ back, unintentionally. “I told you to leave the dishes for me, I was going to wash them.”
Porthos had a lifetime of experience with burying things under a thick skin. That didn’t mean he was always great at it, but he liked to think he was doing alright pretending he wasn’t entirely upside down about everything to do with Aramis lately. Nothing had really changed but everything had changed somehow. Stupid mind reading. Stupid speed dating.
He wished he regretted either as much as he should, but the idea of putting everything on the table felt like a relief, even if he was currently getting it pulled out of him one little chunk at a time.
Aramis’s voice pulled him out of his distracted musings about that fact and he lifted his eyebrows, smirking over his shoulder. “I don’t mind. I figured the pup would keep you reading stories for a while.” He turned back to dip his hands back into the soapy water. “And I wasn’t quite ready for sleep anyway.”
Aramis was already rolling up his sleeves as he walked forward, ready to help without even being asked. It was easier than staring at Porthos with doe-eyes and a wanting expression from behind, as he was fond of doing. He ended up next to Porthos and threw a towel over his shoulder so he could start drying the dishes that were already done, and didn’t stop himself from bumping shoulders with the larger man.
“You aren’t wrong on that. I brought home a few new books today and the new favorite seems to be The Very Hungry Caterpillar. I hope you’re prepared for your turn later, because there’s a great deal of food to eat through in this one.” Avoid, avoid, avoid like a coward, his brain was singing as Aramis skirted along the edge of nothing serious and everything riding on this.
A pleased smile toyed at Porthos’s mouth and he splashed Aramis with a little water. “If you did it right...there shouldn’t be a later, Musketeer,” he teased. “That little bugger should be asleep ‘till morning.”
He knew all too well it didn’t matter how well a toddler got put to sleep, there was every chance he’d be calling out for water or his favorite stuffed animal or something in the next half hour. But taunting Aramis was in his blood and it wasn’t going anywhere. And it didn’t hurt that it felt so painfully domestic. Tristan felt like his own son and had for a while.
Porthos handed over a plate for drying. “But should that prove not to be the case,” he added with a soft smirk, “you know I’ll happily lay down and have a read with him. For as long as he likes, really.”
Aramis laughed, a quiet low sound that was warm and inviting, and didn’t travel very far in the kitchen. It was different when it was with Porthos and it was different having a child in the house, where things had to be kept quiet, lest the loud one be stuck up with said child being no longer sleepy.
Not that any of them were bothered by that, though.
“That’s how it is, is it?” He took the plate and started drying it and shot a fond glance sideways. “Hopefully he’ll stay asleep, but I know you would. You’ve always been there for us, Porthos. I’d never expect anything less.” Even if it was more than he deserved, that kind of loyalty, it still made his heart swell.
Porthos grinned at that laugh. The house wasn’t enormous but they’d done a fairly decent job fixing it up and sound didn’t travel so far that they’d need to worry they’d wake Tristan. He still couldn’t help looking over his shoulder. Like he was doing something wrong, scooting closer to Aramis and using the excuse of reaching past him for a few dishes he’d left on the opposite counter.
“The second you do start expecting less, you better tell me,” he demanded. The next dish got scrubbed at a little roughly and his expression shifted into something more serious. He stole a glance at Aramis. “We’re alright, yeah? I know….it feels like things have been a little off. Not bad just—I need to know we’re alright, Aramis.”
Aramis went quiet, after making an affirmative little hum at Porthos demands. That was an easy agreement to make, especially given he had no plans to ever expect less. He could be so easily distracted by Porthos being in such close quarters, but needed to speak plainly.
He was the worst at speaking plainly. Aramis spoke from the heart, as often as he could. But it was rare for the two to line up so perfectly, and he was left without words in the most frustrating way.
“I owe you an apology.” He finally settled on that, hedging his words as he dried the next plate carefully. “I was so focused on not changing things that I missed actually listening to my heart. I’ve been letting fear rule my actions the last month or so-- Mab save me, probably even for years-- instead of seeing what luck I have right in front of me.”
It seemed fitting that Porthos should have his arms elbow deep in sudsy water when Aramis said such things. Their lives had always been a little unexpected. A little chaotic. Like his heartbeat as he extracted himself from the sink and accidentally swiped soap bubbles across his cheek.
“You—“ Porthos swallowed, a smile already forming even if it was fading in and out as his hopes warred with his cynicism. He met Aramis’s eyes, though, and much of that anxiety dimmed. “You wouldn’t say that just to get us out of this weird patch, yeah?” The tone was teasing. Cautious, but pleased. “But I mean if we’re apologizing for that, I owe you one too. I…” He shook his head, snorting. “I work so hard to never be afraid, but nothing has ever scared me more than the thought of losing you.”
“Who, me?” He wouldn’t, not with something like this, though Aramis would do nearly anything to get back in the good graces of Porthos and Athos again if it came down to it, he didn’t have it in him to lie to his friends. Omit things so he didn’t hurt feelings, perhaps, which is where his hesitancy came in at.
He spotted the soap bubbles sticking to Porthos beard and couldn’t help but grin. It made him all the more fond, and he set down the plate he was holding so he could bring his hand up to brush the bubbles away. It was a movement he slowed on purpose, to give himself a chance to linger, his thumb just touching Porthos cheek and across the wiry hair. “Oh, Porthos. You will never lose me. That, I can promise you. I’m here until the end of days. Even if I knew how to quit you, I wouldn’t want to. Time and time again, it all comes back to you.”
He sighed, a but just dangling off of his lips, but still looked at the larger man with love in his eyes. “You know you deserve better than some rapscallion - albeit an attractive one - idiot that seems to never manage to make the right decisions, don’t you?”
Porthos was glad he’d set the breakable dishware aside. Aramis touching him wasn’t news by any means, but the way he kept touching was. Porthos swayed closer. He probably should’ve grabbed a hand towel; he pressed his soapy palms against Aramis’s hips instead.
“Can’t believe you just said all that and insulted yourself in the same breath.” Tipping his head to side, he made sure their eyes were locked. The look in Aramis’s gaze felt impossible and like a foregone conclusion all at once. The realization that he was very dense was starting to knock around in Porthos’s head, but he hoped the same huge, hard to contain love mirrored back at Aramis from his own eyes.
“You have never been an idiot, Aramis. Nor a rapscallion. That would imply that you are foolish and have no honor when really you just follow your heart.” He coiled his arms around Aramis, less nervous now but still slow-moving. “You have the best one of anyone I’ve ever known. Sometimes it isn’t as kind to you as you are to everyone else. But that doesn’t make you any less remarkable.”
Aramis made a noise between a little purr of contentment and pleasure, rocking into Porthos’ touch easier than he expected to. He shouldn’t have been surprised, with how much he loved watching Porthos use his hands for just about everything. Baking? Phenomenal. Smashing skulls in? Even better. Wrapping around Aramis?
Apparently, otherworldly. “I don’t always follow my heart, you know.” He reached down to pat Porthos own chest, above where the strong heart was beating. “If I had, I would have kissed you long before now.” He hoped that was warning enough without outright asking for permission, because Aramis was already leaning in with purpose. Slightly hesitant purpose, to give Porthos time to dodge away if he suddenly wanted an out, but by the time Aramis’ lips found their target, the hesitancy had mostly been wiped away.
As nerves and cynicism gave way, Porthos answered Aramis’s contented sound with a rumble of his own, a faint echo of the sound he made when he was happiest as a bear. It cut off when he pressed forward to meet Aramis’s mouth. It was all maybe a little too eager - years of wanting did that to a man - but he stretched his strong hands up the length of Aramis’s back and pressed his fingers into the muscle there. Feeling anchored in that touch, he tempered the kiss to lingering and heated.
“Did I say I’m glad you are now?” he murmured as he broke away just enough to breathe. “Following your heart, that is. Following mine,” he snorted. “Jesus, Aramis. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this.” His face shifted into an amused frown. “My hands were usually dryer in those daydreams, though.”
Aramis laughed against Porthos’ mouth, unable to contain the utter joy that hit him with a kiss that he got both so thoroughly distracted in and from, for the same reason. This was Porthos, and it didn’t hit awkward. It hit right. Like this was meant to be, all along.
“I’m not complaining. About your heart, about your wet hands… None of it.” His heart was singing a little song, one he couldn’t vocialize without sending Porthos into a potential coma, so he just laughed again and dove in for another kiss.
With the comedic timing of a seasoned warrior, right as Aramis’ lips touched Porthos again, a small voice carried out from the hallway in half-wail. “Papa? Porfos?”
The kiss died as a sigh, and he ended up following all the way through so his head dropped down to Porthos’ shoulder. “I guess I didn’t do it right. We’ll continue this later? Say yes.”
Porthos smiled into the second kiss, making it awkward for a second until he huffed out a laugh and kissed back with intent. He very nearly didn’t even hear Tristan calling. Or at least it took a second after Aramis spoke for the wheels in Porthos’s head to start turning again.
“Yes.” It was the only answer worth giving. But he did add on to it. “Can’t blame him for having his father’s dramatic timing.” He smirked and kissed Aramis’s temple before nudging him away. “Go before he gets his scared voice out. I’ll finish up here and join you?” His smile was more hopeful and heavy than the promise required but Aramis was hardly the only dramatic one around. “If that’s alright.”
Aramis took one last second to pull himself into Porthos space and kiss him again, as a promise. Then he finally allowed himself to be nudged away, but the grin didn’t diminish from his face even as he made it to the kitchen doorway. “More than alright, I’m holding you to it.”