du_vallon | (no subject)

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He's definitely walked into something strange.

Porthos had finished up with the gym and stopped at the grocery store to pick up the fixings for tacos made with tilapia and other salsas, picking up beer and wine too, and when he gets home, there's the sound of rapid Spanish and laughter, two voices that he only recognizes one of. Wandering inside warily, he hangs up his coat and then feels a touch like he should have changed, because standing there in his bike shorts and a tight t-shirt makes him feel suddenly on display.

"Aramis," he greets politely, gaze sliding over to the man with him. He's handsome, that's for sure, but that could just be Porthos' appreciation of men like Aramis talking. "I didn't know we had company for dinner," he says, glancing at the already exhausted bottles of wine, a touch jealous that he'd missed out on so much drinking.

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"I wish the whole world could be like that," he agrees, patting a napkin to his lips. "Excuse me. The washroom?" he asks, but already heads off to explore. He has had too much to drink and suspects he needs a moment to get his bearings to himself. He locks the door after himself, breathing in and out unsteadily, feeling completely off-kilter.

Porthos leans to the side to make sure Lito is actually locked away before he gives Aramis a disbelieving scoff. "Your friend is weird," is all he says in French. "Does he always give such impassioned speeches about being gay ruining your career? Seems like a bit much to deal with."

"Only sometimes," says Aramis, looking after Lito with a furrowed brow. "It never sits right with me." He wanders towards the couch, intending to sit again with his wine when he notices a wedge of something metallic on the floor. He lifts it and realizes it must be Lito's phone.

He really should not, but rarely has Aramis been able to resist a bit of mischief, and he thumbs it swiftly to its photos. There are views he does not recognize, and abruptly Aramis realizes that this must be an artifact from Lito's home. And this - Aramis' brows climb - this is definitely a man's arse he's looking down at, and a masculine cut of a jaw he can only just detect as the portrait's subject looks over his shoulder.

The sink in the bathroom cuts off, and Aramis throws the phone down abruptly, joining Porthos in the kitchen with an excited puff of air.

Porthos keeps working on dinner, sipping his wine, and he gives Aramis a confounded look when he comes bursting into the kitchen. "What?" he hisses. "What is it? What did you see?" he demands, knowing that Aramis must have found something to drive him to such excitements.

"Daniela is a man," he says in a rush, "Or perhaps Lito is already three, and there is a man as well. I don't know," he whispers furiously, "But either way there is a very handsome man's arse in his phone. I think he had curly hair," he realizes, looking up at Porthos.'

That certainly explains a thing or two.

Lito finishes drying his hands and comes back out to see Aramis staring at Porthos' head of curls strangely. He has a terrible feeling in his gut, but wanders back to the counter to pour himself new wine, not daring to bring up a topic lest it be brought up for him. "Do you also pose for pictures?" he asks politely, of Porthos.

Porthos runs a hand self-consciously through his curls, hoping that Aramis confronts this issue with some tact. God knows Porthos is bad at that, sometimes, and he'd hate to put Lito in a spot that's uncomfortable. And yet, the other part of him wants to learn as much as possible because it is a bit juicy, isn't it?

"He does," Aramis answers for Porthos. "He had a later start than I did. I actually began it as a way to save for our engagement, and then for our wedding. Now we are saving for our home and a child," he adds, almost bursting with it. "Did you and your Daniela try for a family?"

Lito blinks, both stunned for the question and the news. "Congratulations," he says, impressed and taken aback. "But no, Daniela and I were only together for a few months before I got here. I don't even know that children are something either of us ever wanted." That's the truth. He and Hernando never talked about a future like that, because they could never even be public.

Kids never factored in.

Porthos reaches over for Aramis' hand to give it a happy squeeze, an encouragement and a hope. "Here's hoping it takes," he agrees, setting things in a bowl and putting them in the fridge while he digs out tortillas to heat them in oil in the oven. "You seem pretty upset to have left her, for only a few months together," he can't help but observe.

"Love can happen so quickly," says Aramis, "But you do seem sad when we speak of her." He reaches over, touching Lito's hand briefly. "We would not like to make you dwell. I know very well what it is to pine for someone. I pined for Porthos for years before we could be together."

"I am sad for home," Lito clarifies because he does not want to get into the details of a lie. "I did not pine for Daniela, though. In truth, I have not really ever pined for anyone. I don't mean to boast, only I've never had trouble getting who I want," he admits with a hapless shrug of his shoulder.

Porthos grins at Aramis adoringly, always happy to hear about how Aramis had pined for him. "You should also know that we're good at discretion," he says cautiously. "If there's anything about your relationship with Daniela that you don't want the papers learning about here. We're not going to go tell. We've got out own lives to worry about."

"That is true," agrees Aramis. "Loyalty is very important to us - the code of the Musketeers has not been forgotten. You may confide anything in us that you feel you can't to the public for the sake of your career. Besides."

Aramis smiles at him. "I am your friend. I hope Porthos will be, also. And after losing so many friends and brothers in battle we take such bonds quite seriously."

They know. That's all Lito can think. There is hinting and then there is this demanding insistence and the panic comes back to Lito. His gaze slides over to his phone, in a different position than he last left, and it aches because why did it have to be pictures on a phone again? He should have deleted them, only he misses Hernando so, so much now, and it is his only tie back to him. "What did you see?" he demands.

Porthos feels half glad that he hadn't been the one to look at the phone, because his poor liar's face would do them both in. He shakes his head, having seen nothing, and only Aramis' word is what he has. "What?" he rebukes, blinking too much with too-wide eyes. "Haven't got any idea what you mean."

"You," Aramis admits, angling himself in front of Porthos and his miserable attempts at innocence. "There is something you are not telling us, Lito, it is evident every time you speak of home. If you would rather it be a secret from everyone in Darrow, then so be it, but I think keeping so much inside will hurt you in the end. There is someone, isn't there?"

Aramis takes a breath. "Other than Daniela."

He debates asking Aramis to get Porthos to leave, but suspects that whatever they discuss will end up known by the large man anyhow. Caught out, tipsy, and too tired to lie, Lito has to face the fact that someone knows. At least, unlike Joaquin, they will not try and blackmail him for this. "Yes," he breathes out, the single word aching more than ever. "And no," he admits.

"Not anymore."

Instantly, Porthos feels a touch guilty, because he hadn't considered that when Aramis had been snooping on the phone. He pushes at Aramis' hip to get himself seen again. "We won't tell, either way," he adds, because he really does mean this. "It's not our business to tell other people's secrets."

Aramis nods and goes to the pantry, retrieving a small pile of the chocolate biscuits made in Porthos' last mad gym and baking scramble. "What happened?" he asks, pushing the plate towards Lito. "You don't have to tell us, of course, but we will listen."

Words he has spoken many times to Athos, and Aramis has to wonder how they seem to attract such self-loathing friends.

Lito cannot even say this aloud to himself. He doesn't think he can confess to strangers, especially not those inside his own head. He has so many secrets now, he thinks, but this one is straightforward. "I was a coward," he says quietly. "And I was left, because of it. Deservedly so. And now Daniela is in trouble and I am alone," Lito complains, ignoring the cookies because he does have to watch his figure.

Forlorn, he slumps forward and wishes, not for the first time, for Riley to be in his head and to teach him how to bear with this grief.

Porthos can't imagine what it would be like if Aramis or Athos had ever actually left him, of their own volition, like that. He fights back the icy awareness that it could happen if they vanished, because it doesn't make sense to dwell like that. "I'm sure it can't be as bad as you think it is," he offers, trying to be positive.

"But what happened?" asks Aramis, for if Lito will allow this much, he will surely tell them more. "What could you have done to make your lover leave you?"

Aramis shares a quick look with Porthos. "Did it have to do with keeping up appearances for your career?"

"It is a very long and complicated story, but yes. Yes, it was because I didn't want to tell the world who I was," Lito says. "I'm an action star and I'm known for my romance roles. If people knew that I was deeply in love with another man, I might never work again and acting is my passion."

"Only, I think Hernando might have been more," he says his name for the first time out loud, a grieving sob in his throat. "He left me, though. And I cannot fix my mistake here."

Porthos feels guilt and sympathy, now, upset that they've forced him into talking about this. "I'm sorry," he gets out hoarsely, pouring him more wine. He looks to Aramis, wondering how much of a wreck Porthos would be if Aramis were to leave him. It'd probably be worse than this, and so he knows how bad it can be. "So you're going to pursue a career again here? With the same front?"