“I am not that old,” Athos protests for the sake of his pride. He brings his hands to rest at Porthos’ hips, forcing back the the tension he does not dare speak. Here, now, in this moment, nothing divides them. He glances at Aramis, and then at Porthos, lifting his brow. “You were cocky, weren’t you? What did you think you could do to me, then?"
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