du_vallon | (no subject)

Book in hand, it feels like it's been ages since they'd first picked up the thing at the office. They've paged through it from time to time and Porthos has made it a point to scribble notes on post-it notes, affixing them to the book until the whole thing looks multi-coloured and ridiculously full, but this is important to him and he knows it's nearly the most important thing to Aramis and after everything they've been through, it seems right to take the next step, at least. That means picking and starting the long process of contracts and meetings and evaluations.

He'd bought them some cookies from the closest bakery, little blue baby ones and has been nibbling idly (he's not a stress-eater, exactly, but his appetite does grow incrementally whenever Porthos is a touch stressed). Brushing away the crumbs, he's deep in thought as he flicks back and forth between two of his top choices, reaching for his pen and another note so he can make a comment about the curve of a nose or the hang of an ear.

It might seem minor and silly, but they're all such beautiful women and they're going to pay one of them a lot of money for her time and a part of herself, and Porthos wants to make sure they do right by this process.

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"See?" he encourages, grinning as he's already making plans in his mind to take a night off and let Aramis create whatever he sees fit. "Maybe sometime next week, I'll work the evening at the office and you can make whatever comes into your head." It's a first step and a big one, but he's got faith that Aramis will be great at it.

Aramis blanches for the thought of an entire meal, but he does his best not to let Porthos notice. A stew might be best. No matter what type it was, Serge's stews had always been his most passable meals, and that speaks to their ease. "Alright," he says carefully, committing himself to research later in the evening.

Porthos catches most of that look, pressing his lips together with amusement as he gets back to the meal, lounging on the counter with his hip cocked out. "Or we can start with a side dish?" he suggests, shrugging. "Just a thought."

"A whole meal," says Aramis. "Next Wednesday, after you've been at the gym and your appetite is up." He's setting the bar rather high, but Aramis is stubborn, and reckless enough to commit himself to the task.

Porthos still gives Aramis a dubious look, but the man seems committed to the task. "You know I eat twice as much on Wednesdays after the gym," he reminds Aramis, wanting him to keep that in mind. "I'll be starved."

Aramis opens his mouth to tell him to invite a friend, but he realizes that's pushing things rather far and closes it again. "I'll just have to make lots, then," he says, bending to look at the cakes.

"How long do these stay in? Won't they have to cool before I put the cream on?"

"They will," Porthos agrees, leaning backwards to the counter. "But they'll be a touch fluffier. Or that's how I feel when I do it." He's already imagining what Aramis will make them, eager for it as he cooks up concoctions in his mind.