Unconventional Tryst (M, Musketeers)

[groundcontrol]

Have a little hybrid book/BBC Musketeers

On a chilly Monday night, Aramis stole back into his shared rooms at the garrison, doing as much as he could to silently quit his cloak of the rain that had pooled upon it. Mercifully, he discovered a fire blazing in the hearth of his room, but rather unmercifully (for Aramis was cold to the bone and tired and altogether unwanting of conversation) found Porthos awake before it, darning a sock.   

Porthos regarded him without looking up from his handiwork. “Warming beds as usual, Aramis?”

Aramis winced, shivers snaking down his spine as he doffed his cloak. Perhaps exposing his bare skin to the cool night air had not been one of his most prudent choices. “Well, not so much a bed as a… a bit of wall.”

At this, Porthos dropped his sock and fixed Aramis with a wide-eyed stare. “Does the madame du jour not own one?”

"No, no,” Aramis said quickly as he continued to dress down to his smallclothes. “It’s just that given the—let’s say—other residents of her home, we decided a more neutral location would suit both parties best.”

Porthos scoffed incredulously. “So you fucked her outside to avoid her husband, is that it? Is that why you’re shivering?”

"So crass, Porthos!” Aramis chided, before giving his friend a sheepish grin. “But that is more or less the truth, yes.”

"It's cold! And didn’t it start raining?”

"Not until after we finished. And never fear, dear Porthos,” Aramis continued, fixing the man with a rakish glare, “we each worked up a bit of a sweat.”

"You have a perfectly nice bed here in the garrison, mon ami. Why not make use of it?”

"And turn you out on your ear?” Aramis pounded his breast with a fist. “Porthos, you wound me. I am a gentleman. And besides, the thrill of such an… unconventional place is half the fun.”

With a laugh, Aramis climbed into bed as Porthos returned to his sewing, shaking his head and rolling his eyes and grumbling about just how much there was wrong with his fellow Musketeer. Aramis burrowed down into his covers, feeling his shivers ease as they warmed away the worst of his (gloriously-earned) chill.

*******

Tuesday night, Aramis had gone to bed (at a reasonable hour, no less) with a scratchy throat, only to wake up Wednesday morning with the worst headcold imaginable. His head felt full of mud, his eyes burning with irritated tears, his throat positively raw, and the sneezes… Dear God, the sneezes. He feared more than a couple times he would fall from his bed with the force of them. 

From Porthos, though, his ailment gained little sympathy. The man laughed even as he fortified Aramis with all the handkerchiefs they had between them; judging from the way his nose was positively streaming at all moments, Aramis doubted the collection would last him through the day. He took one of his own, pressing the fine cambric to his nose as another almighty sneeze overtook him. 

“Heh’KSHHOOO! Heh’RSHHH! Oh Porthos,” Aramis moaned, sniffling lamentably into his handkerchief and wondering how it was possible for his nose to feel both dammed and flooded at the same time. “You could at least have some pity on a dying man.”

"Dying?" Porthos chuckled. “Hardly. Just reaping the unconventional consequences of an unconventional tryst, more like.”

“Ihhh’TSCHOOO! Hehh’ihh’ISHHOOO! Heh’KSHHH! Hehhhh…” Aramis rubbed at his nose, which already felt stingingly chapped, and squeezed his eyes shut against the pounding in his head. “Oh, I am so ill. I am never–”

"I'll stop you there, before you make a promise you can’t keep.”

Aramis coughed. “Perhaps you are right, mon ami.” Good Lord, his head was so congested he could scarcely form words, but Porthos was right; what fun was fun without a bit of danger? “But in any case, it will be a while before I attempt a repeat of Monday night’s excursion.”

"As it should be. I doubt the madame wants to see you like this.”

“Ahh’KESSHH! Snf! Ah, you’d be surprised, dear Porthos,” Aramis said, snuffling heavily. “You would be surprised.”

[Yaolita]

Great story!

[Lady Blessington]

“Ahh’KESSHH! Snf! Ah, you’d be surprised, dear Porthos,” Aramis said, snuffling heavily. “You would be surprised.”

 

adorbs!!!