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Porthos hasn't really been paying much attention to the dates on the calendar, other than the fact that it's November and at some point, he's going to get a little older. Now that the baby is going to be here soon, he sort of thinks of it more like he's an adult and he's responsible and every year he's going to get a little bit older at some point in November. It happens.

It's why he's at the shelter the day of, barely remembering that he's got a birthday (and even forgetting that it is his actual birthday). He's just working, keeping his mind occupied, and thinking that when the day comes, maybe he'll experiment with a good red velvet cake or something else like that.

It'll be good. He'll be older, but he's alive and he's married with another partner. There's a baby on the way. No matter what happens, it'll be great.

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It's taken rather a lot of planning, but Aramis believes he's pulled it off. Their saddlebags had been packed and arranged the day before while Athos and Porthos were occupied. There are travel sized pillows and blankets and matches for a fire, as well as some limited cooking provisions. In his lap now, Aramis holds a bag of perishables, over which he smiles at Athos on the seat next to him.

As far as he can gather, Athos doesn't suspect a thing, which Aramis can only chalk up to suspicion fatigue on both Porthos and Athos' parts when it comes to him. "They are cupcakes," he says for the rustling bag, which contains said cupcakes and a great deal else. "For Porthos' birthday."

Aramis has been acting awfully suspiciously these last few days, but Athos has resisted asking questions. Whatever his scheme, the man seems to be enjoying himself, and Athos hasn’t detected any reason to ruin his fun. Now, sitting next to Aramis in the cab, his arms are folded over his chest, he eyes the other man with amusement.

“And why are we delivering them to the shelter?” he asks, though he doesn’t expect a straight answer.

Porthos hears his phone going off with a text alert and excuses himself from art class to check it, confused why he's being told to get his coat and head outside. "Sorry," he apologizes to the other volunteers. "It's my husband," he explains, even as he tugs on the three-quarter-length coat that he'd shilled a pretty penny for (but it's warm and gorgeous).

This is urgent, apparently.

"To celebrate," Aramis tells Athos as they pull in to the shelter davenport. The cabbie has already been instructed to wait, and Aramis exits with the box of cupcakes in his hands, beaming when he sees Porthos coming out to meet them.

"Happy birthday!" he calls, taking a moment to appreciate Porthos in his coat. "We've brought cupcakes for you and your charges to celebrate. You're almost done, aren't you?"

Athos can only sigh when he follows Aramis out of the cab. Oh, there is definitely a scheme of some sort, but he cannot imagine what, exactly, Aramis has planned. When Porthos emerges from the building, he offers the man a crooked smile. “Please say you are. Aramis may burst with excitement, otherwise."

Porthos can't help but grin broadly at the sight of his two very favourite people in all the world. He wraps his arm around Aramis' waist to plaster a kiss to his lips, but takes joy in doing the very same to Athos a moment later. "I've learned that when Aramis texts me, something's typically afoot," he promises, hands in his pockets as he raises his shoulders eagerly.

"Well? What are we doing?"

"I don't know what you mean," says Aramis, pulling a cupcake from the box to give to Porthos. He hands the next to Athos and ducks inside, leaving all but one of the remaining treats with another volunteer to distribute before he heads back outside.

He taps his cupcake against what remains of each of theirs and takes a large bite. "Well? Get in the taxi."

“He hasn’t told me anything, either,” Athos confides as Aramis flits away, exchanging a wry look with Porthos. Athos isn’t sure whether to take this fact as a sign that he will not approve of what is to come, or if Aramis’ secrecy is a product of the man’s melodramatic nature.

When the Aramis returns moments later, Athos lifts his brows skeptically, but peels back the wrapper and takes a bite of the cupcake as carefully as he can (though in truth, there is no careful way to eat these crumbly, palm-sized cakes).

“After you,” he tells Porthos, gesturing back towards the waiting taxi.

Porthos is far more tempted to enjoy the cupcake for a moment, devouring it. Considering it's not of his own baking, he doesn't think it's half bad. He shares an amused smile with Athos as he piles into the car, getting comfortable even as he pats his thigh to encourage Athos to slide in right next to him.

"You're a cruel man," he informs Aramis. "Giving those kids a sugar high and then leaving."

"You don't have to deal with them, do you?" asks Aramis, "My further gift to you." He closes the door after them and then climbs into the front seat. It's a straightforward journey to the stables, but still he'd not like for there to be any wrong turns.

He smiles back at them as they head west and towards the countryside. "I hope you both feel like a bit of exercise."

Athos is very familiar with the path to the stables, and quickly realizes where they are headed. After sharing another long-suffering look with Porthos, he looks at Aramis with a lifted brow. “You might have said we were going riding.” While a pleasant way to spend the afternoon, it hardly requires so much secrecy. But then, Aramis has always loved his dramatics.

Edited 2016-11-14 03:30 (UTC)

Porthos is a touch suspicious yet. Riding for his birthday is a lovely thing, sure, but it seems like something they do every day. "We are going to the stables," he confirms. "You're not kidnapping us to go on a mad countryside jaunt for more property or spy games or something else? I mean, a treasure hunt, I wouldn't mind," he says, his excitement palpable as he starts to think of what Aramis might have concocted.

"Did you cook something?" he asks, gaze sliding to Athos. "D'you think we should be worried?"

"Don't besmirch my efforts in the kitchen," says Aramis before Athos can reply, a little miffed, though even he would say that his only good acts in the kitchen have been of the oral variety.

Porthos' expression means that he has worked out that there is more to come, and Aramis smiles to himself, hoping that a day and night beneath the stars will be celebratory enough for him. "Riding," he says, "And a bit of nostalgia. You will see."

“I am always worried,” Athos deadpans, though it’s clear that his concern this time is mostly for show. He is largely amused by Aramis’ antics, for he has seen the man’s melodramatic streak take worse forms, and is fairly certain that whatever lays at the end of their mysterious adventure into the countryside will be pleasant.

Fairly certain.

“Any particular reason for the mystery of it all? Or is that just for your own enjoyment?"

"If it was for my birthday, we could've just rented a hotel room for the night," Porthos feels compelled to point out, as if his eyes aren't glimmering with the hope and the possibility of what might be coming up for them. "Unless you hid more cupcakes out by the stables," he admits. "Those were fairly good."

"Celebratory kidnappings have become a tradition," Aramis tells Athos. "Ignore that it led to me being immediately kidnapped by another Porthos in that other Darrow - normally it works in our favor and is a great deal of fun."

He nods to the cabbie at the road to the stables, settling back as they drive down the last road to where the horses are kept. "There is more food there, yes, calm yourself."

Athos watches out the window, the countryside already beckoning to him. The adventure may be for Porthos, not him, but he much prefers this setting to a hotel room, whatever Aramis may have in store.

"So we have horses, and we have more food." Athos glances at Aramis, noting the large sack he carries. "Any other provisions in there?"

Aramis can't be taking them on a journey, can he? It's impossible, for Darrow will not let them go far.

Porthos can't help his wicked, playful smirk. He sincerely doubts that Athos had meant it in the way that Porthos is thinking about it, but he's enjoying it a great deal as he gives a lascivious wink to go along with the sentiment. "Yeah, Aramis, did you provide any othe provisions in there?" he asks, grateful that the cab driver isn't likely to understand their French.

"Nothing too adventurous," says Aramis, mostly to Athos lest he think he's been roped unwilling into one of their games. "Only food in this bag."

They arrive at the entrance to the stables, and Aramis pays the cabbie, nearly leaping from the vehicle after to hurry towards their already laden horses. Just as he'd asked, they're ready for them, packs bursting with supplies. Aramis pats Hirondelle's neck - she looks nearly as excited as he feels. "How do you both feel about a night beneath the stars? Only without people shooting at us for a change."

Athos strolls towards the stables after Aramis, rather amused that he appears more excited to give his gift than Porthos is to receive it. Not that Porthos seems at all displeased - quite the opposite - but Aramis does love a dramatic gesture.

The corner of his mouth quirks up when Aramis finally reveals his plan. It's an absurd idea, for what kind of madman sleeps in the ground when he has a perfectly comfortable bed at home? And yet, Athos' heart feels lighter at the prospect, as it always does when he is provided an opportunity to escape the madness of the city.

But Athos' opinion does not matter most. He turns to look at Porthos, hoping the man is at least as pleased. "I would say it sounds less noisy. What do you think, Porthos?"

Porthos grins when he thinks about what Aramis is offering and thinks back to all those encampments when he'd lay there, awake, and thinking that he'd just wanted a little warmth and a chance to curl up with Athos or Aramis. "Are we revisiting history, then?" he asks, his smile growing even as he thinks about it.

"I'd love a redo of some of our missions," he promises. "With the events just a little different, namely, how the night ends."

Aramis chuckles, moving to brush a quick kiss to both their cheeks. Beneath his calm exterior, Athos is clearly delighted by the idea, and Porthos has caught on to Aramis' line of thinking at once, just as he'd known he would.

"We may indeed need to keep close for warmth," he says and swings onto Hirondelle with a wide smile. "Though it is to be a clear night, and I've provisions for a fire. We'll be quite comfortable."

Though he cannot fathom what either man could mean when they say they might re-do old missions, Athos knows them well enough to understand the rest of what they imply. With a huff of a laugh he mounts his horse. “We will not lack for warmth,” he agrees dryly. “Aramis, do we have a destination in mind, or do you intend to lead us into the wilderness at random?"

Porthos thinks that wherever they go, it should be the darkest, most private place so that they can enjoy each other's company and have nothing but the silence of nature to help them. "Or is it to be a surprise?" he asks, wondering if there's something even more set up out there. "I hope you've brought alcohol, too," he adds. "Otherwise, how else am I going to continue my birthday tradition of getting so drunk that I can't see the next day, hmm?"

Not that he thinks he'll get to do that after this year, but hey, why not one last hurrah?

"There are several bottles of wine in Athos' pack," says Aramis, grinning even wider now, "And a melon in mine. Who do you tihnk you are dealing with here?"

Guiding Hirondelle out of the stables and towards the countryside, Aramis nods at a knoll just visible in the distance. "I've scouted a fine location, far enough from the city that we shan't be bothered, and if any do stumble on us, they deserve whatever sight greets them."