du_vallon | (no subject)

(no subject)

Something's been off since he went to the gym the other day. He'd done a ridiculous number of weights, but only because he'd felt like he could. Once he'd left, it'd only gotten worse, and now it's twinging and pinching him to the point that he's making faces. It's right around that awful wound from the axe, that deep buried thing that still aches in the rain.

A few days later, he accepts that he needs to ask for some help. He still sulks about it for a while and after dinner, he rubs sheepishly at the muscle in question before taking the salve he'd bought from Hild in order to find Aramis.

"I need your help," he says, gnawing on his lower lip.

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Aramis cocks a brow right back. "Oh?" He can't say he hasn't been expecting this, but there's no chance of him rubbing this foul smelling ointment on Porthos' privates. "I'm beginning to think the romance has gone out of our marriage," he observes.

"What's not romantic about this?" Porthos demands defensively, thinking that he's being plenty romantic, what with the providing oil and the lying down and the being shirtless. "Is it just because I didn't cook you dinner before you got me flat?"

He makes to lever himself upwards and off the couch, "I could still do, if you were hungry or saw fit to complain more about romance."

Aramis does not dignify Porthos' question with a response, instead disengaging himself to stand with a sigh. "Perhaps I do," he says, feeling stubborn and a little curious, even, to discover what Porthos thinks is romantic. "I'm quite comfortable talking for hours on any subject, so don't provoke me."

"I like hearing you talk," is Porthos' low, flirty response. Now that he feels better, he finds he can slide into a sitting position and close the distance between them with ease, wrapping his arms around Aramis' waist to help himself to a closer cuddle. "Go on. Pick a subject, chou."

Aramis settles his hands on Porthos' shoulders. "Is this what you mean by romance?" he asks. "I suppose it is a compliment at least. Very well, what would you like to hear about?"

Aramis raises both brows. "Something nice like your arse, I imagine."

Porthos tips his head to the side to give Aramis a wearying look, because while he would love to sit back and talk about his arse all day, he really does mean that he likes hearing Aramis talk and not just about Porthos' body. "About anything you love," he clarifies. "Doesn't have to be my perfect body."

Aramis hums. "It would be redundant," he agrees, "Given how often I remark on it already. Very well then, I will speak on my favorite dessert you make, those little chocolate cakes with the melted chocolate inside, how do you call them?"

Aramis' nose scrunches, but then his expression clears with a smile. "Lava Cakes. I like them especially when you swirl the caramel on top."

"It works best when there's just a touch of sea salt on top of it," he shares knowingly with a touch of a smug look on his face, grinning to be praised so. He rubs at his shoulder as he curls in to kiss that scrunch of Aramis' nose softly, his eyes sparkling with joy.

"What am I gonna talk about, then? Since we're being so complimentary."

"Can you think of nothing?" laughs Aramis, sinking his fingers into Porthos' curls. "Surely I have one virtue that is not related to the bedroom, or the kitchen or bath or floor or wherever else we may ravish one another."

Porthos tips his head to one side to give Aramis a look that says he knows better than to assume Porthos has nothing to say about his virtues. "Your generosity of spirit," he says, firmly. "You've always got a spot in your heart for those that others might have abandoned. And you care with all your heart, offering actions or kind words or all your soul."

"It's what you did with me, isn't it? And others," he says, thinking of Agnes and of all the people over the years that Aramis had taken under his wing.

Aramis' smile warms, even going a touch bashful near the end there. "That was touching, Porthos," he says, "Truly. But I'm not certain I pursued you simply out of the goodness of my heart. I wanted to be around you because you made me happy, and in a way so few others had done."

"Yeah? How'd I do that?" he challenges, because while he might have heard this before, he never tires of hearing what he means to Aramis. It means so much to him, especially when for a very long time, he hadn't meant anything near important to anyone. "What'd I do to win the great Aramis' heart," is his prodding, smug poke.

"You allow me to be entirely myself," Aramis replies. "Faults and all. You even encourage my more enjoyable ones," he says, thinking of their many foolish, but glorious adventures. "And these," Aramis adds, touching his thumbs to Porthos' dimples. "This sweet smile that I will never tire of." It still astounds Aramis that anyone can look away.

Porthos grins as he's reminded of some of those ridiculous adventures that they manage to find together. He smiles, hopefully as sweetly as Aramis wants to see, and leans in to kiss him once he's settled. "How am I ever gonna have any fun if I'm not there to encourage it?" he challenges with a smirk.

"I love you," he says, more seriously. "For everything you do."

"And I, you," Aramis tells him. "Now, budge over." Aramis seats himself in the space next to Porthos. "We do have some business to attend to, namely, what would you like to do to celebrate your birthday, and in which scandalous costumes will we dress ourselves this Halloween?"

Porthos blinks, confused, and then realizes what month it is and that his birthday really is approaching quickly. "I'd completely forgotten," he confesses quietly, seeing as he's been so fixated on the baby coming that his own birthday had sort of falling away, especially with the whole clone situation on his mind.

"I've got an idea for a costume, though," he latches onto that, excitedly. "It'd be even better if you did it with me."

"Oh?" asks Aramis, sitting forward. In the past they've surprised one another, and while it's terribly fun, Aramis has always been delighted by the couples who costume together. There is even the distant possibility that they could get Athos to take part, though Aramis suspects he won't wear more than a funny hat, if that much.

"What is it?"

Porthos grins wickedly as he thinks about it, sliding his palm under Aramis' shirt so he can rest it atop his heart, just laying idly there as he tries to cuddle in next to him. "I can go as your genie," he suggests. "With you as my master," he says. "My wish would be your command, my every waking moment spent giving you pleasure," he rumbles, voice low.

Aramis laughs, but is body is already warm with the possibilities of such an arrangement, and he's certain Porthos can feel his heartrate pick up. "That sounds like one of our costumes in which we'll have great difficulty in actually leaving the house. Perhaps we'd better dress in separate locations."

Porthos grins and leans in to nip a kiss to Aramis' lower lip, feeling like he's absolutely right. "My costume isn't gonna be much of anything, seeing as I don't plan to be wearing much of anything from about waist up," he teases. "Maybe I'll even buy a big golden hoop earring to wear for the day. Maybe even some of that eyeliner you seem to like so much."

"And then, the night of, I'll grant you three wishes."

"Absolutely a golden hoop," says Aramis with feeling. He's already imagining Porthos crafting his beard into something festive. "And what shall I wear as your master?" he wonders aloud. "I'd like to be worthy of these three wishes."

"Maybe you could be my master from an earlier time," Porthos insists, leaning in to press slow kisses to Aramis' lips, while favouring his shoulder, trying hard not to aggravate it more. "Maybe some very nice silk trousers? Linen? Something extremely nice," he persuades. "Shame I can't convince Athos to be another one of the lamps' owners."

"Well you haven't tried yet, have you?" asks Aramis, though he concedes that it is almost certainly a lost cause. "Perhaps if he dresses just as himself, and I will wear the costume. I do like the idea of these trousers."

His eyebrows lift. "Though they won't do any job at all of hiding my interest."

Porthos remembers last year all too well and also all the fights that have arisen when he suggests pretending. "Nah," he says, trying to hide away his shame at the times he's been yelled at for this. "You can ask, but I'm not making that mistake again." He lets his fingers slide down and wrap around Aramis' cock, raising a brow. "There's clothes you can wear to hide that."

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