du_vallon | (no subject)

Once Aramis has gone home to fetch Athos, Porthos knows that he needs to be resting, but before that, he needs to make sure that Tommy knows he's okay and that he can go home. Shifting, he gets a nurse paged and gives her the message to bring to Tommy, so that he'll know that he can come and visit. Porthos gives express permission, given that his friend had been the reason he'd made it here instead of waving off the aching in every part of him, not to mention the throbbing in his head. More than that, though, he's a little worried and he wants someone to help him dispel that.

Someone who's fought before, who can tell him about the healing, about the damage, not to mention someone he can talk to about the fact that he's done. He's not sure how he feels about that, yet, but he knows that if it causes Aramis hurt, then it's not happening anymore.

Shifting up, he gets into a sitting position to wait for Tommy, wondering how long he has before he's to be faced with twin looks of disappointment and anger on Aramis and Athos' faces.

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It seemed like he'd been waiting forever, his own stress amplified by the stormy looks on the faces of all of Porthos' friends. He'd never bothered much to get to know them, which was on him, but it made for an uncomfortable experience, sharing space with them now.

When the nurse had approached him, he'd been shocked, but more than a little relieved. Following her back to the rooms, he peeked in through Porthos' door, smiling a little to see the other man sitting up and awake.

"Hey, man."

Porthos shifts slightly, trying not to look too much like he's grimacing. He's been holding off on the pain meds, but now that Aramis has gone to fetch Athos and his things, he thinks he has some time to give himself a touch of the medication, just to help. "Hey," he greets, feeling a little fuzzy all over. "So you can be the first to hear," he notes, plucking at the thin hospital blankets. "M'retired."

"Just like that?" Tommy said, giving Porthos a look as he plopped himself down heavily in the chair by the bed. Really, he wasn't all that surprised. He'd seen it before. Fighters got married, started families, and their perspectives changed.

It's guilt and shame that floods Porthos as he stares down at his hands and the cuts that litter them, broken skin giving way to bruising. "Aramis doesn't want me fighting anymore, not for money," he says. "I'll still horse around, practice and all, and fight when it's needed," he swears, because he's still hunting. "Just...no more bouts."

"What about you, man? What do you want?" Tommy asked, leaning forward with his elbows rested on his knees.

Frankly, he didn't give a fuck what Aramis wanted. What mattered to him was what Porthos decided. If he didn't wanna fight, anymore, Tommy could respect that, but it didn't seem right, letting another man make your decisions for you. Even if they were your husband.

Porthos takes in a deep breath and that aches. Shifting in bed aches. Everything aches, but it hadn't been for honour or anything decent. It'd been for money. "I don't want to get myself in a situation like this, not with Aramis and Athos mad at me, not for money," he admits. "It's one thing when we were defending France, but there are other ways to make money." He rubs at his scar, sniffing on the inhale as he thinks about it. "I'll still spar and work out, but no more fights like that," he admits.

"And yeah, that's what I want. I don't want to give myself permanent damage before I even become a father. And I can't live with the looks on their faces if I got hurt like this again, with me knowing I could prevent it," he admits.

"Yeah, alright," Tommy nodded, drawing in a deep breath. "There's a bright side. Now you don't gotta meet me in the ring and get your ass kicked in front of a bunch of strangers."

He smirked.

Porthos laughs warmly, giving Tommy a wince when the movement pulls on the bruises in his stomach. "Only a shame Aramis didn't make it to a few more of the fights I won," he admits, tenderly poking at those bruises. "I always liked showing off for him, especially when I got to show off what I could do."

He feels a bit raw, a bit loopy from the drugs, which is why the next thing out of his mouth barely registers. "Shame Athos isn't like that. Have to find other ways with him."

"Uh huh," Tommy said. It was a strange sort of statement, but Tommy easily dismissed it as a product of all the drugs.

"Like you said, you'll still fight. You wanna come in and help me train, I'll promise to make you look good."

Porthos gives a soft huff of a laugh when Tommy says that. He feels groggy and a touch out of it, but even still he reaches out a hand to clasp onto his friend's in order to show his gratitude for the words. "Thanks," he says sincerely. "And thanks for bringing me in. You could've just ignored me, especially when I got all stubborn about not wanting to come in."

"The hell are you talkin' about? I'd have knocked you out and dragged you here, if I'd had to," Tommy frowned, curling his hand around Porthos's, his grip warm and strong.

Porthos grins up at him, having taken a long time to come across friends like this and it must show on his face, given to expressions and emotion as much as he is. "Back in Paris, that's not the case," he says. "I got lucky that Aramis and Athos took me in, that Treville looked after me. I'm still getting used to it here," he says gruffly. "I don't suppose I'm gonna have any money left after I pay for all this, am I?"

"Seems like they gotta decent system here. Shouldn't set you back too far."

Socialized medicine had always been somewhat of a dirty word, in the US, but Tommy couldn't see the harm in it. Though, the taxes they took outta his paycheck were kinda high.

Porthos gives Tommy a hopeful look, like he's just said the best things in the world to him. He musters up another smile and this one is just as bright and honest as the first as he reaches out to squeeze Tommy's hand. "I probably shouldn't have been an idiot and taken that fight, huh?" he admits. "Definitely shouldn't have bet on myself with the odds so stacked."

But then, he never did learn.

"I'd say you've learned for next time, but I guess there won't be one," Tommy grinned, "Anyway, that guy was a fucking beast. If it weren't for all the bureaucracy bullshit, I'd turn his ass in for doping."

Porthos gives Tommy a confused look, not sure if it's the drugs or the English that's mucking him up, but he didn't understand half of what Tommy just said to him. "What's that mean?" he wonders curiously.