du_vallon | (no subject)

(no subject)

It takes him nearly six hours to return the items that he'd stolen during his erstwhile time as a teenager. He does his best to appear chagrined and excuse an unseen nephew for his crimes while bringing back weapons, paying for food taken, and all manner of embarrassing items. That said, he does pay for one from the sex shop that he intends to keep for a later date, but only because it had looked interesting.

Weary and exhausted, he makes his way slowly back to the apartment, aware that he's been ignoring his phone while he works on returning everything that he can. He trudges back to the apartment, but stops for flowers and a bottle of wine. It's been a few days since he's grown up again (so to speak), but he still feels a touch awful about the stress he's put both Athos and Aramis under.

He lets himself into the apartment, petting the Captain as he settles, peering inside. "Aramis, are you here?" Glancing at his phone, he frowns to see he's missed several calls. "Chou?" he calls again, setting the wine on the counter with the flowers as he takes off his coat.

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Porthos' eyes scan Aramis' face rapidly, staring at him with his own shock. After all the false starts and maybes, how can this be the real time. He cradles Aramis in tighter as he steps back, his fingertips a harsh pressure that yields no mercy. "We're having a baby?" he asks, voice small and fearful and ecstatic all at once.

"Really?"

Aramis nods against his throat, drawing another shaking breath. There is suddenly so much in the world, so much joy, but so much fear, too. Twice now Aramis has lived in the hope of a child, only to lose it. He doesn't think he can bear a third, but that's not what he wishes to dwell on today.

These tears are happy ones, and Aramis gives himself over to them at last, holding on to Porthos as he weeps and lets himself believe that they will finally have a family.

Porthos pushes Aramis up against the wall to support him enough that he can get a leg in between Aramis' thighs, cupping his face with the hand that frees in order to kiss him through those tears, feeling trembling and panicky himself as he tugs on Aramis' hair and lets out a needy whimper into his mouth.

Never mind not having had this for a few days, he's feeling explosive to get it back.

Aramis clings to him, and if he were in command of himself he'd know this is the worst kiss he's ever bestowed, his mouth slick with his own tears and body still shaking with his sobs, but he kisses Porthos with all that he has, whimpering for the tugs to his hair.

"Porthos," he murmurs, certain that the other man's hands are all that are holding him together. "In December. If all goes well, we'll meet our Lucie in December."

"Oh, now," Porthos gets out feebly, his knees weakening and shaking a touch. "You can't go around saying things like that when I'm holding you up, we're both gonna end up collapsing to the ground," he protests, holding onto him as best as he can, dragging Aramis in the direction of the bed so they can collapse on it.

Once there, he stretches back for the tissue box, dragging them out to dab at Aramis' cheeks. "Don't cry, now."

"As if your eyes are any dryer," Aramis laughs, catching Porthos' face in his hands to kiss his wet cheeks. "December, Porthos," he says in wonder. "How will we ever bear to wait until then. My God, I can hardly bear it."

Aramis sits up. "We may finally buy more than that crib!"

He's actually shaking. Porthos doesn't register that his hands are trembling until they're both lying on the bed and he gets the chance to peer at Aramis through his blurry, tear-stained eyes, unable to do anything but sniffle for a moment as he thinks of how little time they have before things change completely. "I need the time to adjust, I think," he confesses, a blurted thing. "You might be ready to be a Papa, but I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to manage."

"Cariño," sighs Aramis with a wet laugh, wiping uselessly at his own eyes with the tissues. "We have nine months. We'll figure out everything we can."

Needing to hold him as much as he needs to be held, Aramis wraps his arms around Porthos and hangs on tightly. "I love you so much."

Porthos desperately leans into the hold, not knowing what else he can do right now except for rejoice and panic and do all the other things that come with hearing this kind of news for the first time. "I love you, too," he vows, sniffling and grasping for a tissue himself. "Aramis, it's happening. She's really pregnant, we're really going to have a baby." He grins, then, a toothy thing. "A Christmas baby."

Aramis' face splits in a smile to match Porthos', and he leans in to kiss his dimples. "A gift we will never manage to top," he agrees, burying his trembling fingers in Porthos' curls. "The agency said we must take a few days to let it sink in. Attempt normalcy. But," he confesses, "I would really like to buy a few things. The tiny clothes are...they're so small, Porthos."

Porthos leans into the touch of Aramis' fingers to his hair, a whimper on his lips as he gives into that needed touch. "We should wait until we know whether we're having a girl or a boy," he says, trying to be rational. "That way we can buy only the things we know we'll need and not waste money." He shifts onto his knees to surround Aramis with his body, eager to pin him down.

Aramis groans, and though it's only been days, he feels half-starved of Porthos' bearing down on him with his proper bulk. He lifts his head and nips Porthos' jaw, savoring the return of his beard.

"Any child may wear yellow," he says, "Green, blue. There are clothes we can buy. Tiny socks, Porthos."

Porthos slides his hands over Aramis' arms, circling his wrists so he can pin them above his head, rocking his hips against him. He's painfully hard, something he's been since a child, but it's not like anyone had helped him out with that except for his own hand and he's keen on someone else's.

"Okay," he negotiates. "Let's buy one of each colour and some tiny socks. But then we wait to find out if it's a girl or boy."

Aramis sucks in a breath, trembling now with more than joy. Porthos is so hard already, his body dragging down against Aramis' with delicious friction. It's been moments only, but Aramis has already begun to pant.

"How long?" he manages to ask. "Some wait until the day of birth, but I can't wait that long, Porthos."

"I don't think we ought to wait that long at all," Porthos protests, as impatient as anything when it comes to this. "I'm thinking as soon as we can know, we should. And then we can have a big party," he announces with joy. "You and me and Athos and all our friends, and then we'll be able to shop to our heart's desire."

"A party," says Aramis with a shaky smile. He knows they will not yet be in the clear, for Isabelle's belly had already rounded when their baby was lost. So much could happen between now and the birth, but looking into Porthos' sweet face, Aramis lets himself believe. "Poor Athos," he say. "A party and an infant. It is hard to guess which he will dread more."

Porthos curves his head so that he's starting to work a very distinctive red mark into Aramis' neck, a slow and seductive little thing that he enjoys as he works to make up for lost time. "The party, then the infant," he predicts. "And the way you fuss and the way I'll worry. We're going to drive him to an early heart condition if we don't supply enough wine."

Aramis' laugh turns into a moan as Porthos continues to work at his neck, stinging and soothing in equal measure with his tongue. "He could drive himself to aneurysm all on his own," Aramis notes, sobering a little. "We must tell him." As much as he'd like to bask in this moment forever, their joy undiminished and still unspoiled by the many realities that will come with raising a child, it's not a secret to be kept. "How, Porthos?"

Porthos eases back with an honest look of understanding on his face. He knows they have to tell Athos and he knows they have to be good with him, no matter how he reacts. "Can we at least have a quickie?" he begs. "You have no idea how desperately I need it, seeing as someone wouldn't sleep with me before."

"You were underfed," laughs Aramis in his defense, though he is only jesting. Even if Porthos had had his memories, after knowing what he does of Porthos' past, Aramis could never have touched him in that way. "But yes," he says, shifting up against Porthos' bulk, "Your weight against me now is a convincing argument."

"Oh, you like me big, is that it?" Porthos teases him with a growing smirk on his face, rocking down and pinning Aramis a little tighter to the bed, refusing to let him move. "I think you don't exactly mind our current positions, do you," he murmurs, his voice a low thing right up against Aramis' ear.

"Were I to pick any place in the world," Aramis agrees, his laughter turned breathless as Porthos grips him tight, "It would almost surely be this one." He tugs a bit, more to savor the renewed strength in Porthos' limbs than anything. "Why?" he asks in a teasing voice, shifting his mouth to Porthos' throat, sucking softly. "Is it not to your liking?"

"I mean..." Porthos trails off and lets his gaze slide over Aramis' body thoughtfully. He's thrumming with adrenaline and nervous energy, ecstatic about the news and worried about telling Athos and dreading being a screw-up, but right now, holding Aramis down and thinking of having him is the best cure.

"You are wearing a little too much for this to be preferred."

Aramis grins up at him. "I didn't think you'd want to hear about our child while I was nude." He begins tugging again, this time in earnest. "Unless you mean to undress me with your teeth, cariño, you'll have to let me go."

"I like hearing everything from you when you're nude," Porthos feels inclined to reply, a wicked grin on his face as he leans in with a playful growl, nipping at Aramis' collarbone with his teeth as though he does intend to use his teeth to make a mark or two.

He backs up, though, biting his lip as he waits for Aramis to undress. "So it turns out that we can confirm that as a fifteen year old lying about his age, I had a thing for the both of you. I wanted you to pin me down."