D'Artagnan has the Devil's Luck (devilsluck) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-04-07 02:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | aramis, d'artagnan |
Who:Aramis and D'Artagnan
What:A second attempt at watching Princess Bride-Dart still falls asleep.
When:Sunday night.
Where:D'Art's place.
Warnings:Cuteness.
STATUS:complete!
That was one dream he’d rather forget but knew he never would. The look on Athos’s face and in his eyes as he held that struggling woman hostage in the square were burned into D’Artagnan’s mind. He’d woke up by the sound of a gunshot and a pain shooting through his body.
A cold sweat had gathered on his skin and he immediately put his hands to his chest, feeling for blood or injury of any kind. There was none. He was short of breath and almost as though he were actually dying from injury for a few moments. He could do nothing but sit in bed and stare down at the blankets that pooled at his lap. He hadn’t said anything about what had happened next, he wasn’t sure how. The dreams didn’t yet make sense, but he knew there had to be some reason they’d abandoned him. Some reason he was left to bleed to death.
Finally he caught his breath and stood, dressed in pajamas-a pair of sweats and a tank top, he made his way to his bathroom. Splashing cold water on his face and leaning against the sink. That yet was one of the strangest dreams he’d had. He still brought an arm around to touch the area Athos had shot, it was sore. He winced when he shifted his waist a certain way.
Aramis was admittedly a touch worried. Sure, there was no damage from the dreams or anything, but D’Artagnan was still on the young side and dreaming of a friend shooting you couldn’t exactly be easy. In any case, even over the internet he could tell that it had shaken the younger man up, and it wasn’t as if Aramis had anything else to do, anyway.
He stopped by a place to grab some Chinese food for them and also something caffeinated in the way of soda, then made the familiar drive out to D’Artagnan’s, wondering maybe if he should have invited the others. Ah well. He knocked on the door and waited patiently.
Given the job he took, he had been shot at before. But never by a friend. Especially not one he’d begun to consider close. It was unnerving. He wasn’t sure how to respond to Athos with the memory hanging in the air. He felt a little awkward poking at his phone, so he’d left it in his room after his last response, unaware entirely whether or not he’d commented again and wiped his face with a towel.
They’d all left him. He rubbed his face as if trying to rub away the memory, and then the knock at the door. The towel wrapped around his neck, and his dark bangs still dripping with a bit of water, he crossed the room to open the door for his friend and gave him a strained grin. “Hey.” Trying not to look and sound as awkward as he felt was difficult. But still he stepped aside again to let him in. He was dressed still in pajamas, a pair of sweatpants and tank. But he really didn’t have the energy to bother changing or anything.
Aramis frowned for a brief moment, then put on a soft smile. “Hey, cheer up, now,” he said, tipping up D’Artagnan’s chin with a finger. “I drove all this way out here and that’s the greeting I get. Honestly.” But he was only teasing, and even then there was a lightness to it that he normally didn’t have.
Walking inside, Aramis deposited the bag of food and the soda on the coffee table. “I assumed Chinese food was a safe bet. Everyone likes Chinese food.”
Feeling a little more than paranoid, D’Artagnan decided to lock all of the locks he had on the doors tonight behind Aramis. And then eyerolled some at the hand that nudged him. “Sorry. It’s just weird.” He chewed his lip and then gave him a grin. “You’d be right there.” He knew it was just a dream. He was sure there had to be more of an explanation to the abandonment he felt, but it wasn’t a thing he took lightly, as he’d once told Aramis before. He’d had some bad memories associated with it. But then, did anyone have good ones for abandonment?
He rubbed at his eyes and peered through the bags before spotting a chicken thing. “Finally something other than soup.” He grinned a little more and leaned in to look closer, but it caused him to grimace at the movement. He had to put down the food a moment and touch the spot again where he’d been shot, still no blood. So why the hell did it hurt so much?
Aramis would understand if D’Artagnan mentioned it. He had more than enough issues of his own with abandonment, and it would be the last thing he’d wish on anyone, especially from him. But for now it goes unnoticed. Though he does pause in the middle of setting out the containers of food, looking at D’Artagnan as he winces.
“Have you taken anything? A painkiller? Any ice to it?” Instinct told him to reach over and he put his fingers over top of the other man’s hand, just lightly, frowning. “Is it bruised at all, or is it just pain?”
“I don’t know.” He looked up at Aramis for a moment through pained eyes, and then away again. “I didn’t want t’look.” It was childish fear that’d prevented him, and he didn’t want to admit it. Aramis’s hand was warm and gentle. D’Artagnan looked down at it ontop of his own and had to struggle not to blush or do anything stupid. He was in pain, it was the opposite of the time to be thinking about that sort of thing.
“It didn’t bleed. Figured it’s fine.” He insisted, but it obviously was sensitive. He tried not to move much even with Aramis’s light touch.
The frown only grew. Aramis motioned for D’Artagnan to follow him to the bathroom, where they’d likely have the best lighting. “Let’s have a look. I’m not about to be chided at for negligence or something,” he said, pointedly. “Shirt off, let’s go.”
D’Artagnan started to protest, but he was pretty sure it was going to be futile. Instead this time he spared them both the dramatics and followed Aramis toward his bathroom, grateful suddenly it was clean. He removed his shirt and avoided looking Aramis in the eyes, it was a little embarrassing. There was a bruise where he’d touched that he didn’t remember getting in real life. It was fairly dark, but that was all it was. The bones there weren’t broken, it was just sore and uncomfortable. He had a decent amount of muscle despite his lack of gym, likely came from police training and running.
Aramis normally would have made a joke or some sly comment about getting D’Artagnan shirtless so easily, but he decided to forgo that and be serious. D’Artagnan didn’t look much like he was in the joking mood, anyway. Carefully, Aramis touched the dark bruise as he inspected it, and, once he was satisfied, he stood up straight again.
“All things considering, it could have been a lot worse. Probably most of the pain is coming from the fact that it’s a spot that gets a lot of use, twisting and bending and all. You go on back to the couch, I’ll throw together an ice pack for you to help the swelling.” He was also going to look for some aspirin or something similar.
He watched as Aramis inspected it so carefully. Wincing a bit at the touches, but generally not making a sound or audible complaint. He looked up at him finally and frowned a little. “Makes me wonder. What happens if you get killed in the dreams?” The way dream him acted sometimes it was a miracle he did not end up with worse.
The bruises were on his side, a bit closer to the rib cage and that would have been it from a gun shot wound. Or what if he was shot again? Would it actually carry over into the real world? He worried about that a little and nodded. “Thank you..really.” He didn’t elaborate as to why, nor did he bother putting his shirt back on as he went back to the couch. But he was glad Aramis had come, it eased his mind a little. “Don’t forget the food.” He seemed to be feeling a bit better just after being looked at, despite his wincing as he sat on the couch it seemed like his mood had lifted.
“Don’t get sentimental on me.” But Aramis gave D’Artagnan a fond smile before digging through D’Artagnan’s medicine cabinet until he found something that would work. Then he went to the kitchen where he made an ice pack from some ice and a sandwich bag, which he then wrapped in a cloth.
“What, do you want me to hand feed it to you?” he asked. Aramis looked amused, but it was likely that he would, if he was asked. “I got chopsticks and forks, I wasn’t sure what you’d like.” He glanced around and then put his hands on his hips. “Do you know what movie you want? I might as well do that, too, while I’m up,” he joked.
He looked over at him with an amused expression a he settled into the couch, being careful of his new injury. “And here I was going to write you an epic ballad.” He shrugged as he pulled over a pillow to rest his arms on. The shirt hurt when it was on the wound so he didn’t bother with it again. “But if you insist.” He brushed some of his drying hair away from his eyes. It was starting to cling to his face since he hadn’t properly dried it.
“Well if that’s an option..” He teased in return and shrugged. “Spicy things are generally good.” He was a fan of spicy food. “Fell asleep during Princess Bride last time, so maybe that one? Anna was pretty shocked I’d never seen it.’ He shrugged. He didn’t like mentioning he’d not had money for those sorts of things in the past. He got comfortable, leaving plenty of room for Aramis to sit beside him, and rubbed at his eyes.
“As you wish.” Aramis had always liked that movie. He fancied himself as something of a Westley anyway. He put in the movie and then turned out the lights, because, honestly, no movie should be watched with the lights on, then settled on the couch.
Aramis handed D’Artagnan some food and both eating utensils, then grabs some food for himself. With the ice pack in one hand, he slipped his arm around D’Artagnan and pressed it to the bruising, not phased at all by the sudden closeness. In fact, he seemed much more interested in his noodles and the movie’s opening scene than much else.
Aramis really was a good guy. D’Artagnan didn’t know how to respond to his teasing sometimes, but moments like this made him want to trust him anyways. He wasn’t all that good with the responses but he did watch. He tried to mimic him sometimes even, but he wasn’t about to tell him that part. Not yet anyway.
He barely noticed the cool touch of the ice pack beyond a sense of relief when Aramis touched it to the wound. He was busy inhaling noodles like he’d never eaten before to notice the discomfort they sometimes brought at first contact. Instead, he leaned against Aramis’s chest some and watched the movie a bit. “Doesn’t hurt as much now.” He commented offhandedly, glad he had something to do with his hands suddenly- with Aramis so close he wasn’t sure where to put them.
“That’s good,” Aramis commented, between bites. “There’s some tylenol here, if it starts acting up again. At the very least, take it before you try to fall asleep again and it should knock you out.”
He shifted a little to accommodate D’Artagnan’s leaning, and wondered, suddenly, if this would fall under Athos’s warning to leave the boy alone. Probably, knowing Athos.
He thought for a moment and smirked. “Planning to take advantage of me?” He teased in response to the comment of the medication and with a mouth full of noodles. It was probably very much the opposite of attractive, but he figured Aramis would appreciate the quip. He could keep up sometimes. He reached for the near by soda and lowered the food. Aramis was warm, and he was almost content to sleep right then. But still he couldn’t, not just yet. It’d been a long time since anyone had been that close for even a hug. He wasn’t the most approachable when it came to affection sometimes. Secretly though sometimes he craved it. He was going to enjoy the closeness a bit longer before letting sleep happen.
Aramis smirked and snorted a bit. “Oh, please, I don’t need to give anyone anything to help me take advantage of them,” he said. But he did appreciate it, he didn’t think D’Artagnan had it in him, to be honest. “Why, do you want me to take advantage of you?” Okay, this was the part where Athos would get mad.
He liked making him laugh just then. It was a thing he’d have to do more of. His own smirk only widened at him. “Is it truly taking advantage at this point?” He was the shirtless one in this mess of whatever was going on. And then he turned a few different shades of red at that next comment. “I..” Okay so he wasn’t braced for that one. He didn’t know how to respond except to put down the food so he didn’t spill it all over them both.
It just made Aramis laugh more. “If you’re going to go toe-to-toe with the big boys, D’Artagnan, you can’t let such comments get the best of you.” He glanced over to give the younger man a fondly amused look. “But well done, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Nothing got to me.” He managed, though he just made an exasperated sound and eyed him with a feigned annoyance. “Maybe a little.” And laughed to avoid more embarrassment. “I can keep up you know.” He smirked as he let his hand rest in his own lap out of uncertainty of where to put it. He’d never actually been with a man before, but Aramis was just too damn charming for his own good. He’d been with a woman once before, but it didn’t last.
“Yes, I’m starting to see that. There’s hope for you yet.” Aramis shook his head with a smile. He figured he should probably take the ice off of D’Artagnan’s bruises, and he did, but found his arm still trapped. In lieu of letting it awkwardly hang there, he put his hand back where it was, sans ice, hoping that it wouldn’t be a big deal. It was just for ease, honest!
“Paying so much attention to me. I’m flattered.” He mused as he watched him put his hand back on the skin. It was comfortably numb now. The touch didn’t even cause him to flinch this time. It only caused him to give him a curious look. “No ice now..?” He questioned with a small smirk. “No pain.” The tone was light though. He really didn’t know what he wanted just then. He just new he was glad the hand went back. His own rested partially against Aramis’s thigh and only half out of uncertainty of where to put it. The movie was no longer holding is attention.
“Oh, you know, twenty minutes off, twenty minutes on,” Aramis said. He’d been through enough injuries and helped others through their own that he knew the drill. “Ideally I’d be alternating it with something hot, but I think you’ll be fine.” Though he fell silent for a few moments, not certain if he ought to inform D’Artagnan that his hand was now resting on his thigh.
“You know, I think if we were all Princess Bride characters, you’d be Inigo Montoya,” he commented, out of something to do. If left to his own devices he might do something foolish.
“It’s not that bad.” He shrugged. Aramis was kind. It was hard to see through the teasing sometimes, but his touch was enough to prove it. D’Artagnan raised an eyebrow. “That’s the main guy? Why him?” He asked distractedly as he leaned back a bit to peer at the t.v again. He’d sort of lost track of what the characters were all doing. “Never seen it before.” His hand moved to Aramis’s forearm instead, resting there maybe was a better option.
“Brash, impulsive, the whole you killed my father, prepare to die thing. It sort of just yells D’Artagnan.” Aramis grinned a bit. “Naturally I’d be the romantic hero. Porthos would be Fezzik. It’s a wonderful movie, you should watch it some time,” he teased.
Underneath that, Aramis was trying to gauge if D’Artagnan was flirting or just, well, being D’Artagnan. It would be all too easy to flirt back, but there were likely limits, and for once Aramis was trying to look for the lines before crossing them. “Are you comfortable?” he asked, finally. It would at least give D’Artagnan a way out if he wasn’t.
He laughed at that. “I’m not that dramatic am I?” He paused and considered his dreams though. “..I’m pretty sure actually those were the words dream me used on Athos..” He mused. He remembered most of these dreams pretty clearly compared to normal ones no matter how strange they were. “Naturally. “ He repeated with an amused tone as he peered up at him through dark bangs. “What about Athos?” He hadn’t seen enough of the movie to tell Aramis who he thought Athos would be.
“I’ve been told it is. Apparently I’m pretty far behind on my pop culture stuff.” He shrugged as he shifted slightly and nodded. “Mhm. You’re warm.” It was better than a blanket, and the closeness was something he’d missed out on lately. He didn’t even seem all that bothered by the nightmares anymore. Aramis was definitely good at providing distraction.
“Hmm, a man like Athos has no place in a fairytale. He’s more the stuff of legends than stories about magic and happy ever afters.” Aramis shrugged a little, wrapping his arm a bit more around D’Artagnan. “You ought to try and rest a little. All this staying awake can’t be good for you.”
“He should get both.” He shrugged a bit and curled into the embrace. Cheek resting gently against Aramis’s chest, barely paying attention to the movie anymore. “Yeah sure, sleep while you’re over there feeling me up.” He teased again. He didn’t quite feel like sleep just yet though, so he paid half attention to the movie. He still wasn’t eating a lot, but he’d eaten some of what Aramis had given him at least, so it was still an improvement. On the whole he seemed very nearly like himself again.
“Oh, please, this isn’t even remotely close to feeling you up.” Aramis rolled his eyes. “In any case, clearly you’re enjoying it, so I don’t see why you’re putting up a fuss. Like I said, if I wanted to take advantage of you, I could do it just as easily as I do anything else. But instead I’m being a gentleman. You ought to be flattered.”
He snickered at that and then yawned tiredly despite trying to stay awake. “How noble. But if I wasn’t comfortable you’d know.” He was bad at this sort of thing, but it was comfortable. He could get used to having Aramis around more if it meant more of this sort of thing happening. It was hard for him to admit it out loud, the words felt awkward.
“Yes, I suspect I would.” Aramis tickled his fingers a little against D’Artagnan’s side with a bit of a laugh. “But you’re comfortable and I’m noble, so that’s that. Now shut up, this is a good bit.”
He snickered laughed and shifted from the touch. Smacking that hand slightly. “Hey.” But when the movie grabbed Aramis’s attention, he took it as an opportunity to shift back to where he’d been, his hand cautiously resting ontop of Aramis’s own. “And humble too.” Sleep was the last thing on his mind as he watched the movie distractedly. But somehow it happened anyway, it wasn’t long after the silence that he drifted off. Relaxing against him, and breathing evenly. No nightmares in sight.
Aramis himself eventually dozed, too, warm and comfortable. He wasn’t sure how long he was out for, but he had a series of dreams that jolted him awake to the menu of the movie being played and he nearly threw D’Artagnan off of him in the process. Blinking around a bit, he clambered off the couch and took a breath, to calm himself, and he cleared his throat.
He was so tired, had he not been practically knocked away he would have slept through the night most likely. But there he was, wide awake and steadying himself so he didn’t fall any further than he had. “Aramis?” Concern in his voice, the expression on his face wasn’t his usual carefree one that D’Artagnan had become so used to recently. Something had scared him, and D’Artagnan worried. “What is it?”
“Sorry - Sorry, I’m sorry.” Aramis shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “I just … I think I need to go. I’m sorry.” He gathered up the food to put into the fridge for D’Artagnan, then set about gathering his keys and jacket. “Sometime we’ll actually finish this movie.”
For a moment he watched him from the couch, unsure what to do to help him. He hated seeing him so frazzled. Whatever the dream was, it had to have been bad. Aramis had been able to help relax him quite a bit, and he felt helpless on the reverse the way he was moving about. D’Artagnan pulled on a jacket near by and stood to try to catch up to him. “Wait-? What ever it is maybe I can help?” Brows furrowed in concern as he followed him to where his keys were.
Putting a hand lightly on D’Artagnan’s chest, Aramis shook his head. “I’m sorry. This is beyond help. At least for now. Don’t worry about it too much, you’ve got enough on your plate already.” Hastily, and in what he’d explain as a momentary lapse of judgment, he pressed a kiss to D’Artagnan’s cheek and headed out toward his car, wanting nothing more than to get home.
He frowned as Aramis stopped him from following. It was likely at this point there were few places D’Artagnan wouldn’t go to make sure he was all right. He’d begun to care about the man deeply. Confusingly deep even. He looked up at him and gave his arm a light squeeze in attempt to provide some sort of comfort as he moved in. “ Too late..” He said in a barely audible tone as the man sped off toward his car, a hand moved to touch the spot he’d been kissed and he smiled. The smile didn’t reach his eyes though, they were still too worried to really enjoy it.
He had half a mind to follow him, but for now he’d give him his space. He just watched, somehow unable to convince his feet to follow though his mind wanted to.