du_vallon | (no subject)

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He knows that he should have more faith in Aramis, but the trouble is that things are a little tricky given the fact that right now, he's sitting in the back seat of a car while Aramis is at the wheel. He trusts Aramis with a lot of things, but the driving is still just a touch too new for him and it's making him ... well, edgy. The last turn had been a little hard and he grips onto the handle as the instructor guides Aramis through it, though Porthos is sort of wary about all of this.

He knows Aramis will pick it up, he just thinks maybe this is the last lesson he'll visit for until Aramis gets a few more under his belt.

Porthos plasters on an encouraging smile as they're taken to do parking trials, knowing that he wants nothing more than to be supportive and he damn well will be, even if they end up dead as a result of this lesson.

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Aramis beams at Porthos in the rearview mirror, careening them down towards another parking spot. His instructor - a nice, middle aged woman who really could do better with her hair - stares intently at him as he maneuvers, but Aramis isn't unnerved. He's used to people staring at him.

"And after this, I want you to approach the stop, signal, and go left when the way is clear," she instructs, and Aramis raises his eyebrows excitedly at Porthos in the mirror. The road nearby is Park Avenue, quite a busy street, and certain to be filled with obstacles. "We were engaged not far from Park," he tells Mrs. Everly.

Porthos grips the seat beneath him as he looks at how busy the street is. He takes a deep breath and stares at the instructor, knowing that if there were really any harm, she'd look nervous. He knows he has to get used to this. When they live in the country, Aramis will certainly have to drive them in and out, but right now, this all feels a touch like...

Well, it feels a bit like riding a half-wild stallion.

"Technically, it was on the water," he says, trying to speak to keep his nerves at bay.

"True," Aramis agrees, "We had a lovely boat ride and a dinner beforehand. Certainly one of the best evenings of my life."

"Watch the road," Mrs. Everly tells him, but Aramis is undeterred. "I have excellent vision," he says, coming to a stop and signaling his intention to turn left. "And my reflexes are quick, aren't they, Porthos?"

Peering, Aramis detects a short opening in the two oncoming lanes and accelerates all at once, pulling them into traffic. "I imagine a thunderwagon will have a more powerful engine."

Porthos grabs at the seat under him, breathing in deeply as they accelerate. He turns to the woman and tries not to get too pale. "He means the ambulances," he explains, having done some research to learn the proper word for it. "He's training to be a medic, only he needs to learn to drive."

"Aramis, watch the road," he growls to back up Mrs. Everly.

"I am!" Aramis tells Porthos' reflection, but he does stare at the road as if it is the gauntlet that Porthos perceives it to be. All he sees are cars whipping by in every direction, blinking lights and long sustained ones, cyclists and pedestrians taking their chances. Ordered chaos - Aramis quite enjoys it.

"Shall we go to the park?" he asks Mrs. Everly, "We're so near. I could do parallels," he adds quickly when he thinks she'll say no, and she surrenders with a sigh.

The chaos doesn't appear so ordered to Porthos, who only sees a semblance to the Court. Madness and noise and disarray and things that can kill you while making a great deal of noise. He breathes in deeply and then out, trusting that Aramis will learn how to do this and he will have faith in it. "How many more hours of this will he have to complete?" he asks politely, of the teacher.

"None at all," she answers, "These are voluntary, meant to help him pass the real exams when he takes them." Aramis beams at Porthos - he's taken extra steps to ensure that he passes, placing him well on his way to providing their family with yet another source of income.

"How about this spot?" he asks, arriving near to a small space between two other cars. It's quite tight, but he feels certain he can make it. "I have excellent spatial awareness."

A car behind them honks, and Aramis smacks at his turn signal to indicate that he will be staying, thanks very much.

Porthos doesn't make a sound, not a panicked anything, but he imagines that he's going to suggest that Aramis show off his new skills to Athos the next time they go out. Honestly, he thinks he'd much rather be surprised with these skills, than anything.

He huffs out a soft, appreciative laugh, though, at Aramis' vehemence. "And when will he be able to write and test?" Porthos next asks.

"They do written tests every day at the DMV," Mrs. Everly answers, watching with a pinched expression as Aramis wedges them into the tiny spot, but she doesn't stop him. "Though we suggest making an appointment for the driving test itself."

"The lines are terribly long," Aramis tells Porthos, sliding the car into park to turn in his seat and look at him. "Will you come to that, too?"

Once they're parked, Porthos shakes out the trembling in his hands and leans forward to kiss the side of Aramis' cheek. "I'll come with you to the written. I won't want to distract you for the driving." Plus, he thinks he might let out a few noises that might not encourage the examiner that all is safe.

"Mrs. Everly," Porthos says politely, "how can we book Aramis some more practice? To soothe out the wrinkles?"

Aramis is too suffused with glorious victory to notice Porthos' trembling, and he turns to Mrs. Everly in surprise. "I don't have wrinkles, do I?" he asks, trying to lean over and read her notes.

"I will supply you with a full evaluation at the end of the lesson," she tells him primly, adding, "And extra practice certainly never hurt anyone's chances. I think you can drive us back now."

Aramis deflates a little, but he maneuvers them out of their spot again, angling the car back to the high school where the lesson began.

Porthos sags back into the backseat, clicking in his safety measures as he watches the rest of the trip through the window rather than trying to manage what it is Aramis is doing. This isn't his lesson and he trusts Aramis. If they get injured, then they'll cope with it.

And besides, they're still just learning. He grins at Aramis from behind, though, and his worry of wrinkles and of performing well. "You'll be in a thunder wagon in no time, chou."

"I'll have to do a separate test for that one," says Aramis, brow furrowed as he concentrates on navigating them back to the school. He refuses to ask for directions - it's a point of honor now, and he manages it without trouble.

"Those are much larger," he says of the thunderwagons, pulling into the school lot. Aramis places the car into park and stares anxiously at Mrs. Everly for her notes, but she continues to write.

Porthos gets out of the car, feeling like he can breathe for the first time in a while. It's definitely a lot more comfortable, he knows that. He perches on the trunk with his arms crossed, glancing over his shoulder every once in a while to see whether Aramis is done, gnawing on his lip for what the evaluation might say.

Aramis exits a few minutes later looking rather gray, though he sends off Mrs. Everly politely enough, walking her to the door of the school. He returns to the parked car with a subdued air.

"She says I must work on my signaling," he says, a little anguished. At the end of the day, that's very little criticism indeed, but Aramis had thought he'd been perfect.

Porthos lets out a huff of laughter as he pushes himself gently off the back of the car, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Aramis' waist and press a kiss to his cheek. "It would help people to know when you want to enter their lane," he feels compelled to mention. "It's good advice."

"There was no one behind me when I skipped it," says Aramis, mouth still downturned. "It was only a two lane street!" But apparently he must act properly whether there's anyone to see it or not - at the very least, the instructor will see it.

Aramis gives a deep sigh, pushing himself further into Porthos' grip. "Very well."

"It's safer to do it always," Porthos opines, feeling like he might not want to drive himself, but is more than happy to hit on the rules for Aramis, to make sure he stays safe. He grins as he wraps his arms even more securely around Aramis, squeezing him in tight. "I think that might be my last lesson with you," he confesses, soft kisses pressed to his temple. "I get stressed, with all that chaos, not being in control."

"Everyone moves for the thunderwagon," Aramis mutters, already savoring a time not yet realized, but he casts a worried glance at Porthos. "It will be much the same when I drive you and the children in from the country," he says. "It was not so awful, was it?"

"You'll have a great deal of practice and a license, then," Porthos feels compelled to point out, since he has no problem taking the taxi-cabs. "Right now, every time she guides you or corrects you, I tense a touch," he admits. "I get worried," he admits, drawing away to grasp Aramis' hand. "Come on. I'm going to buy you the sweetest coffee and the tastiest frozen yogurt you want for completing the lesson."

Aramis wonders if he should not have brought Athos instead. Even terrified the man can maintain an expression of stone, and Aramis wonders if his nerves are not more steeled than Porthos' in traffic.

Still, he cannot be sorry for Porthos' presence now, and he squeezes his hand, drawing comfort from him despite his disappointment in the lesson. "Gelato."

Porthos grins and nods. "Exactly. We'll get you some gelato," he promises, giving him a small squeeze of his arm. "And you can have as much as you like, while I have the sweetest possible coffee that I can find," he agrees, tugging Aramis along.

"Affogato," says Aramis suddenly. "I saw it on one of their cooking programs. It is gelato with espresso poured over it, both strong and sweet at once. I'll have that. You should get one of those pumpkin things I see on every coffeeshop window."

"The spice latte?" he says, trying to recall which the ones are. He yanks on Aramis' hand a little harder than he needs to, in order to tug him into his arms for a kiss, framing his face with both hands. "I love you and I'm proud of you for doing this," he encourages. "You're doing great."

Aramis' breath leaves him for the tug, and then so too does the last of his sadness. He gazes tenderly at Porthos after the kiss, looking for all the world like a man falling in love all over again. "You are?" he asks, but then he accepts that Porthos is, warming to his toes. "Thank you, Porthos. I feel I can do anything with you beside me."