Who: Aramis and Porthos. What: Meeting. When: Very early March. Where: A bar. Rating: PG-13? Aggressive flirting and innuendo. Status: Complete.
Aramis decides that he is very deserving of a drink or three. Apparently, these things are common in Orange County, but had anyone bothered to mention it to him when he was getting transferred? No. And there hadn't even been enough time between him starting with the Agency to everything hitting the fan for him to get properly warned, either. At least, he thinks, he's good at thinking on his toes.
Still, he's glad it's done with, and he sips at a beer, feeling relaxed for the first time in days.
Porthos has fought against a lot of things in his career at The Agency, so he's slightly less startled by things than poor Aramis might be. Still, it always takes a bit out of him, and he finds himself at the bar as well, sipping slowly at a beer and attempting to unwind a bit.
He spots Aramis a few seats away and decides to move over and sit next to him. "I've seen you at the office, haven't I?"
He glances over as the seat next to him is occupied, and, yes, he recognizes the man. Aramis is good with faces in general, but some are more memorable than others. "Yes, I think you have." The man is in another division, so Aramis has only ever seen him passing.
"Porthos," he grins, offering his hand in greeting. "You're new, I think. Or at least I haven't seen you much."
"Very observant," Aramis replies, looking amused as he shakes Porthos's hand. "Aramis. I am new. I just got sent over from the east coast a couple of weeks ago."
"Pleasure, Aramis. I've been here, oh, ages. Too long, it feels like sometimes. I suspect you know what I'm talking about." After all, if Aramis works in the same place as Porthos, he'd been called in to deal with this volcanic whatever as well.
"No, but I can only imagine." He takes another drink of his beer. "They cleverly left out all the unexplainable, Bermuda Triangle-esque goings on when they filed my transfer papers. I feel duped."
"Oh they'll say anything to get someone they want." Though Porthos makes a bit of a shushing gesture, "Not here. We'll get in trouble. If you need to talk about it, though, I've got beer back at mine."
Aramis laughs. "I might be new to this neck of the woods, but I'm not a rookie. I'm well versed in the whole 'I'd tell you but I'd have to kill you' thing." Then he raises his eyebrows, looking almost smug but even more amused.
"Wow. I know I'm fairly good, but I've never been invited back to someone's home so quickly. This is a new record for me."
"Well now," Porthos chuckles, shrugging a shoulder. "I did only mean that if you wanted to discuss work, it would have to be somewhere more private. I'm not that easy."
He puts up his hands. "I jest. Really." Aramis shrugs as well. "I don't know. What does one talk about in regards to these things?"
"What does one talk about in any job? Coworkers, work load. Shit bosses. I haven't had a regular job in a while, I've forgotten."
"I've never had a regular job. I couldn't really say." Aramis frowns a bit, looking thoughtful. "Nope. I'm at a complete loss. I suppose that means we'll need to talk about ourselves, then."
"As it so happens, I don't mind talking about myself." Porthos orders them both another drink and leans against the bar, chin propped against his hand. "Got any hobbies, or are you strictly an all work and no play type?"
"Well, look at that, I also have no problem talking about myself." Aramis turns on his chair to face Porthos. "Me? Oh, I'm very much the play type. My hobbies include, but are certainly not limited to, women, men, possibly poor decisions ... The list goes on."
"Possibly poor decisions involving men and women?" he teases. "It sounds like we might get along in that case. I also have a tendency for making possibly poor decisions. Usually in a bar setting, usually picking a fight of some sort. But almost always to defend someone's honour."
"Well, yes, mainly." He laughs and sips his beer, then puts his hand over his heart. "How chivalrous. I'm a sucker for a romantic hero type. You do seem the bar brawl type, though, so I don't think you probably need any motivation to punch someone in the face."
Porthos lets out a laugh and claps Aramis on the shoulder. "You might be right, at that. I do try to have at least some sort of excuse, though. In case anyone asks later."
Who would have thought there were such fantastic people working around him? Aramis grins. "Of course. A good alibi is always a card worth having up your sleeve."
"Well, that's an important thing for our sort of work, isn't it? Though I'm much better at getting myself into trouble than getting myself out of it."
"Really? I'm quite well-versed in both areas. Getting into trouble and getting out of it. I'm quite charming, you see." He smiles at Porthos over the edge of his glass.
"Are you? I hadn't noticed." But he's smirking around his bottle and he tosses Aramis a wink. "What section are you?"
"Yes, I'm very subtle about it." Aramis really can't help but flirt. It's second nature to him, and, admittedly, Porthos is very nice to look at it, so he has no qualms smirking right back. "Three. It's a bit more toned down than what I'm used to, less field work, but I like it. And you?"
"Five. Which doesn't do much to dispel the idea that I enjoy punching things, does it?"
"At least you live up to your talk. You know, I'm glad we've run into each other. Apart from the few people I've met in my section and the poor man in the tech division that's already exasperated with me, I don't really know anyone I work with."
"Ah, you've met Q." Porthos nods his understanding. "He keeps trying to get me to use my phone properly. It hasn't worked so far."
"I was perfectly fine with my phone I had coming here, but then they issued me a new one, and it's all encrypted and secured and unlocking it is a hassle as it is. If it goes beyond texting or certain selected apps, I'm hopeless." Aramis shrugs. "Guns, though. Guns I'm good with, regardless."
"Oh, guns I can do. Guns, knives. A crow bar." He's getting weird looks from some of the other patrons nearby, so he flashes them a grin. Which doesn't seem to do much to settle their nerves.
Aramis doesn't even try to hide a laugh. "I fence. I know no one actually fences anymore, but if swords were still a viable way of fighting, I'd be good with that, too. But I'm a bit of a crack-shot."
"Well that's probably why you're in three. I'm a bit of an improvisational fighter, I guess you might say. Which is why I'm in five."
"In my old job, my team was always quite specialized. I'm good at what I do, so why branch out, yes?" He takes a long drink from his beer. "So. Besides hitting things, what do you do?"
"I like to read," he shrugs. "I like learning new things. And I'm a clothes horse, I'll admit."
"Yes, well, the last bit, I can tell." Aramis reaches over and plucks a bit at the shoulder of Porthos's shirt. "I'm the same way. Not about the clothes, but the reading. And the learning. I'm thinking of taking up another language, but I don't know which. Maybe Portuguese."
"Portuguese! I've heard that's a challenging language." He starts chuckling before he even gets the joke out, "Are you a cunning linguist, then?" "Yes," he answers, and his smirk suggests that he also means yes to the implied innuendo. "As it is, I've conquered the romance languages more or less, and Portuguese would be an easier next endeavour than say German or Russian."
"Well with Russian you'd have to learn a new alphabet, wouldn't you?" Porthos points out, perhaps helpfully. "I suppose Portuguese is closer to Spanish or Italian than German is. What little I've heard of it."
"I like a challenge. But, yes, given my fluency in those, I suspect I'll do just fine. And then maybe Russian."
"And then maybe Russian." He laughs a little and nudges his shoulder against Aramis, deciding he likes this new man. "I need to work on my languages. My pronunciation is terrible."
"What? There's no point in being multilingual if you don't have that one language that just throws everyone for a loop." Aramis smiles and shrugs. "What do you speak? Or. What do you try to speak?"
"A little Spanish, a little French. Not nearly as much as I should. Maybe you could give me a hand with that."
"Well, the best way to learn is to speak it, and I'd hate to get out of practice myself. I suppose I can manage a conversation or two with you every now and then."
"Much obliged," Porthos smiles, tipping his beer bottle towards Aramis in a small toast. "I'll buy you a drink for it, how's that?"
"I'm not one to complain about a free drink." Aramis toasts his own in turn.
"So how long have you been in town, then? Settling in all right, I trust. Oddness aside."
"I got here ... On the fifteenth. Literally I'm brand new to Orange County." He shakes his head, amused. "It's good. I like it. I haven't ever had a chance really to come to California and it's living up to all my expectations. I'm hoping to take a trip up north in a few weeks to see San Francisco if I can."
"Provided work doesn't get in the way, of course." Porthos signals the bartender for another drink, then turns back to his new companion. "I've been here ages, it feels like. Where did you transfer from?"
"Exactly. But I think I'll be here for the long run, so I'm not rushed. Officially, I was living in D.C." Aramis finishes off his current drink, then lowers his voice, just a touch. "I was with the CIA, but only for a few years, and they decided I'd be better use here."
Porthos looks appropriately impressed. "Afghanistan, for me. Did something incredibly stupid that ended up being quite heroic, which apparently caught the attention of a few people here in California. So I figured, California's nicer than Afghanistan. Finished my tour, came here."
Aramis raises his eyebrows as he glances over. "My word." He claps Porthos on the shoulder, then pats him on the back, mostly an excuse to touch Porthos. "In that case, I think I should buy you a drink. For your excellent service to this country."
"I would accept a drink, for my service to this country," Porthos grins, squeezing Aramis's shoulder companionably. "That's how I got this scar, you know. They called me Porthos the Pirate while I was recuperating, since I had to wear an eyepatch."
"You know, I believe you, even though that sounds like a complete and stupid story." He snorts, giving Porthos a nudge. "I'm all for running blindly into heroic situations, but I'm not sure I could ever up and join the army and go overseas. Truly, sir, I commend you."
"I was only blind running out of it, and even then only half. But thank you. I got a medal or two for my stupidity. And now I have a fantastic job in sunny California. Maybe I should run blindly into heroic situations more often."
Aramis laughs, wheezing a bit. "Either way, it's very heroic and I suspect it wins you a lot of favour with women."
"Women and men alike, I've found. Many sorts of people appreciate heroic acts."
"And scars, and handsome faces, and a good sturdy build. God's certainly seen fit to grace you." He smirks again, finishing his drink and ordering another round. "You ought to thank him."
"I have a few tattoos, as well. People seem to find those attractive." Porthos wonders if Aramis has any tattoos, and where. "Are you a man of God?"
Aramis feels a bit of a flutter in his stomach. Tattoos? Very good. "In a way, I suppose. I was going to be, and then I decided maybe it wasn't the life for me. I'm as devoted as I can be."
"I can't see you as a priest, to be honest. You seem much too... adventurous."
"I am. Terribly so." He shrugs a shoulder. "My confessions are generally very colourful."
"Bless me father for I have sinned, I gunned down a -- goblin or whatever those were today."
The corner of Aramis's lip quirks up into a bit of a smirk. "I was thinking more along the lines of ... Bless me father, for I have sinned, I found myself in the arms of a man mere hours after being in the arms of both his sisters at the same time."
Porthos lets out a hearty laugh, slamming his fist down against the bar in amusement. "Now that is the sort of man I like to spend time with. You know how to have a good time."
Aramis bows a little, then takes a long drink. "You have no idea, my friend."
"Perhaps I'd like to. We should spend more time together, especially if we're going to be working together."
"Oh, I completely agree. And I never say no to new friends." Or new friends with benefits, really, but Aramis isn't quite sure he's tested the waters enough to say that.
"Wonderful!" Porthos touches his beer to Aramis's with a grin. A real, warm, genuine one, rather than the toothy one he'd given the other patrons earlier.
In turn, it gets a sincere smile out of Aramis, which is actually a bit shyer than one would think. "So, seeing as we're friends now, do I get to see your tattoos? Or are they in less than appropriate places?"
Another laugh, and he rolls up his shirt sleeves as far as he's able to, revealing the bottom half of his sleeve tattoos. "They go up to my shoulder. I thought, if I'm going to do this, I might as well do it right."
"So committed." He reaches over to walk his fingers along the lines, right up to where they meet Porthos's sleeves and then he drops his hand again, as if he'd never touched him in the first place. "They suit you, I think."
"It was my retirement present to myself, when I finished my tour. So not really retirement so much as a transition. But I thought -- I'm done with that chapter of my life and I'm on to start a new one, so I should do something big and flashy to commemorate it. Maybe if I ever retire from Section Five I'll get the full sleeves done." He smiles a little at the brief touch, the almost shy way Aramis is smiling at him. "I like them. They're fancy without having any real meaning behind them. A little like me."
"I don't know, I'd say there's some real meaning behind it. In any case, I think, if a person wants a tattoo, then they should get one. Meaning is fine and all if it's there, but some people make so much fuss about it. And then it becomes so convoluted because you're trying to translate something." Aramis reaches over again, thumbing across an intricate pattern of lines and dots.
"I like this, though. Very well done. Of course, seeing as much as you enjoy fashion, it's understandable you'd want something pretty and well made to cover your arms."
"I just told my artist to have fun with it. I wanted something that looked nice, with a little colour here and there. She designed it all herself. I think she was excited, actually, to get to work on something she could just play with." Porthos nods his agreement, "You're right. They have meaning in that they symbolize a chapter of my life. Would you ever consider getting a tattoo?"
"You're lucky it paid off." Aramis sits back and looks thoughtful. "I don't know. I don't think I'm the sort for it, really. I can't imagine them looking good on me, you know?"
"I'll show you the top of them when we're not in a place that discourages taking your shirt off. The shoulders are my favourite part." He eyes Aramis with a contemplative expression. "I think something small and simple would suit you better, if you were to get anything at all."
"I can hardly wait," he says, quite earnestly. Then he laughs. "I think if I got anything, it'd be on my hip, if only to encourage people to bite there a little bit."
Porthos clears his throat to keep from making a needy noise at the thought of biting Aramis's hip. "Into something a little rougher, then?"
"Yes. Come to think of it, I don't think I could get a tattoo because of that. I'd never be patient enough to let it properly heal before banging it around a bit." Aramis makes a face. "Ah well. C'est la vie, right?"
"I can understand that feeling. My doctor practically had to dislocate my legs to get me to stay in hospital long enough to let my eye heal. I had to be very careful while my arm pieces were healing up, after each session. It was dull. But I got a lot of movie watching done."
"Yeah, I can see how it'd interfere with punching things," Aramis teases. "How on earth did you survive."
"I had to have someone tie me down to get me to keep still." Though he's smirking to show he's not being serious.
"What a lucky someone." He smirks right back over the edge of his glass. "If I knew you better, I'd almost be jealous."
"So I shouldn't tell you how they kept me entertained while I was healing up, for fear of your jealousy, hmm?"
"Probably not. I'm very petty and even more competitive, and we've already discussed how I don't think through to consequences." Though at this point Aramis is almost certain there's a mutual understanding that a hook-up is about to happen.
"It would be best to move on to another subject entirely."
Oh, he's going to enjoy being friends with Aramis. He can tell. He rolls his sleeves back down and takes another sip of his beer. "I won't distract you with my body art any longer, then. Though I am curious, if you got a tattoo on your hip, what would it be?"
"Hmm." Aramis taps his fingers on the bar. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe a fleur-de-lis, to honour my heritage perhaps. Who can say, really."
"French, are you? Me too, way back. Du Vallon. Porthos du Vallon. What a name, eh?"
"Oh, fancy. Mine is d'Herblay," he says, with a full French flourish on the name. "My parents are both from France, my mother actually is from Spain but she moved to France when she was just a girl. I spoke more French than I did English at first."
"Spanish? I can see that. You can definitely help me with my languages in that case. We'll have to get together for lessons some time."
"I speak French with my father, Spanish with my mother, Italian to pretty things I want to seduce, and English to everyone else." Aramis laughs into his beer. "I'd be glad to help."
“Oh Christ, you're dangerous you are. That, or the best wingman possible. I'll have to take you with me whenever I go out."
"Hmm. Grazie, Tesoro, vieni qui e baciami." He raises his eyebrows at Porthos and leans his head on his hand, smiling and looking very amused.
"I've no idea what you just said, but it sounded quite nice." Porthos has no doubt that Aramis has an incredibly talented tongue.
Aramis grabs a napkin and reaches across the bar for a pen. He writes down what he's said, then writes his number underneath it and finishes his beer. "Here, you figure out what I said, if you want, and then text me after to let me know your thoughts." He slides the napkin over to Porthos and stands up, putting down some money for the beers.
He shrugs and tucks the napkin into his pocket, deciding that he definitely is going to enjoy being friends with Aramis. "I'll be certain to do that. It was very nice meeting you."