Porthos' grin is nearly ear-splitting as he stares fondly at Aramis, thinking about the first time he'd made this cake. "You came home from sleeping with another woman," he recalls, which shouldn't be romantic, but it is, because of what Porthos had realized in that moment, on that day. "I had this cake in the oven and all I wanted was for you to eat it, for you to love it so much you'd stay."

"I thought, if I can make him stay, I might have a chance," Porthos reasons, tangling his feet with Aramis' under the table.