(no subject)

[du_vallon]

Porthos is starting to get fed up with being stuck in one place.

He can't move, can barely think, and every time he wants to get up and do something as simple as go to the washroom, he can't do it without the aid of the infernal crutches or with Aramis helping him out. He's gone through all the books from the library that he'd had Aramis fetch him and has taken his pills for the day (possibly one too many, but it helps him to start to while the day away in a hazy sort of dream). He's starving now, though, and has lost his blankets off the bed, struggling in his sweatpants to spin himself and get them back.

Only, it's wound up with him on his arse on the ground, hissing in pain as he reaches out to the cast covering his foot. He breathes in shakily, debating whether he wants to call for help, but he's too stubborn and the crutch is very close. Swiping at it, it clutters to the ground, and he manages to hook it under his arm, prying himself to his feet so that he can start to slowly, slowly work his way into the kitchen.

Comments

[afineseamstress]

Aramis wakes with a start, his flail upwards halted by the blanket he's tangled within on the chaise, but he manages to get to his feet in time to see Porthos' shuffle from the bedroom. Aramis pushes at the sleep creases on his cheeks with a guilty frown - he had not meant to sleep at all, but caring for Porthos is proving a fulltime venture, and he'd only meant to rest his eyes.

"Porthos," Aramis barks, coming forward to replace the crutch with his own shoulder. "Back to bed with you at once."

[du_vallon]

Porthos is a bit dazed, his world fuzzy, but he doesn't remember Aramis having been sleeping on the chaise. It makes him feel guilty to have taken up the whole bed and his face falls, slightly, to think of monopolizing it, like this. He leans hard against Aramis arm, shivering (which makes sense given his lack of a shirt). "I got hungry," he says in a small voice, "and cold."

"I was doing okay, though," he tries to defend himself, having managed on the crutch. "It was just the fall out of bed that did it." Rubbing at his eye with his fist, he eyes the kitchen longingly. "I don't know which I miss more. Cooking or proper sex with you."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis thinks back to the noise that had awoken him with another guilty dip of his stomach. "You fell out of bed?" he asks, steering him more swiftly towards the bed. "Why did you not call for me?" Settling Porthos on the edge of the mattress, Aramis runs his hands over him, searching for signs of swelling or breaks. It is a measure of his worry that he does not remark on their lack of sex at all, his brow pinched and unhappy, but there is some small relief on his face when he meets Porthos' eyes.

"You do not feel damaged. Have you any new pains?"

[du_vallon]

"I was chasing after my blankets and I fell out of bed," he agrees as he leans onto Aramis before sitting on the edge of the bed, making a face to be back where he'd started, without anything to show for it. He leans into the touch, though, like a starved child given a meal. His moan is decidedly far from pained as he stares up at Aramis. "One of the books hit harder than I did," he admits. "And I didn't know you were here. I thought you'd gone out."

"The only pain I've got is boredom," he grumps. "I'm going out of my mind, Aramis. I've finished all the books and the cat's avoiding me."

[afineseamstress]

"I will tell you when I am going out," Aramis promises him, touching Porthos' cheek before he straightens. "I was in the living room, deciding what to make for your dinner." Or he should have been. Aramis rubs at his eyes and holds out his hands for Porthos.

"Come. I will heat you some stew, and together we will find you an occupation that does not involve further damage to your person. Or your books," he adds with a faint smile.

[du_vallon]

Porthos pulls himself onto his feet, all his weight on the undamaged one, but his arms wrap snugly around Aramis' waist to balance himself. Even so, he finds he almost falls forward and he presses a little more into Aramis than he'd intended, leaning his body against him. "I'm all done with these ones," he mumbles from where his mouth is on Aramis' collarbone.

Dragging in a long sniff, he noses at the fabric of his shirt. "Y'smell good," he murmurs, tugging the collar away to kiss up his neck. "Really good. What is it?"

[afineseamstress]

"A few days of sexual frustration, no doubt," laughs Aramis, disengaging Porthos from his throat with gentle hands. Handing Porthos a crutch, he continues to support his other side with his own body. "Days that will likely continue until your pain medicine is gone."

[du_vallon]

Porthos gives a pitiful whine as he eases back, eyes flashing with concern and frustration as he takes in Aramis. "Until the pain medicine is gone?" he echoes, words slurring together slightly as he adjusts the crutch under his arm. Modern medicine has helped him the way a good punch had always done, but without the bruising and swelling afterwards. "Why?" he demands, shuffling as best as he can, but it keeps leaving him heaving against Aramis' body with the unsteadiness of his weight.

[afineseamstress]

"The physician said it might affect your libido," replies Aramis with a wink, "And I would not shame you in that way." He grunts a little for Porthos' weight, wishing, not for the first time during an injury, that he was strong enough to carry the man. "Move your right leg when I move mine. There we go."

[du_vallon]

Porthos does as Aramis instructs, staring down at their feet for a long, long moment as he tries to figure out how to get in sync. He manages, but it takes longer than he'd like. Wincing, he hates the raw soreness of his armpit from chafing with the crutch. "Did the physician say the pills would affect your libido?" Porthos counters, turning to look at him pointedly. "You know I get just as much pleasure taking care of you..."

When he next 'trips' and the only way to steady himself is the slide of his hand over Aramis' back to grab at his arse, it's hardly subtle.

[afineseamstress]

"Steady," Aramis says around another laugh, continuing despite his certainty that Porthos has done this on purpose. "You see, you are far too affected to put one foot in front of the other, I'm not letting you anywhere near my cock. You might sprain it."

[du_vallon]

Porthos laughs heartily as he makes a face. "And then you'd be in a cast of another sort. Athos would have to take care of both of us," he laments, and though he's resigned himself to not getting to touch Aramis in the way he likes, he still leans in for an uncoordinated, lazy kiss from his lips before he settles onto one of the stools, using the other to slowly prop up his foot. Stomach growling, he knows he ought to put that out of mind.

"Talk to me, then," Porthos suggests, closing his eyes and tipping his head backwards as if to catch words from the air. "Wedding plans," he murmurs, words sticky. "We haven't really talked about them. You pin all your ideas and I go out searching for cakes. Or, I did, before I couldn't walk," he mutters bitterly. "Let's talk about our wedding."

[afineseamstress]

"Athos could not nurture a plant, let alone two injured Musketeers," Aramis snorts, returning in the next moment to Porthos' shoulder. "No lolling or I will put you on the chaise," he warns. "Stay upright."

Going to the coldbox, he pulls out a container of stew and places it in the microwave. "Did you settle on any cakes?" he asks as the numbers tick down. "Or a top ten, perhaps?"

[theresalwayshope]

Allison has always been very careful about using her key for home...ecause that's what it is now, somewhere between Aramis calling on her so politely and spending an entire sugar-addled costume party stuffed under Porthos's broad arm, this particular part of Bramford became home. It's cluttered and now full of wedding magazines and the vision board and always alive with the cheerful, cultured tones of her grandfather or vibrating with the gravelly, jovial bark of her uncle...and it's where she feels safest in the world when she's not with Jason.

It's home, and Allison is very careful about how she uses the key to the front door...very careful.

Today, like every other time she's come by unannounced, she knocks. She waits two full minutes for the door to be opened.

"Grand-pere? Oncle?" she calls out. She waits another two full minutes.

She knocks again, and two minutes later she's finally fishing out her keys and opening the door herself. Maybe it's a bit much...but if anyone's naked, God knows how long it could take to get to the front door, or at least covered.

"Aramis? Porthos?" she called out, setting her purse and keys on the first table she reached before heading to the kitchen to set down the grocery bag she had, laden with plastic storage bags packed with a fresh batch of Porthos's favorite muffins: chocolate salted caramel. She'd also cooked the night before, and had a couple tupperware containers of homemade chicken soup.

Free of her burden, she brushed off her hands and sighed, brushing off her hands before leaning against the counter and peering around the eerily quiet apartment...no, not all that quiet, she heard something thumping and shuffling.

"...guys?"

[du_vallon]

Porthos hears the door open out of the faintest awareness. Pulled from his sleep, he blinks wearily and wakes up, hissing when the movement makes the fractured foot ache beneath the cast. He fumbles with his blanket and the pillow, dragging it over to burrow his cheek against the linens, feeling like the sensation is enough to keep rubbing his cheek over it, bristled with the beard. "In here," Porthos murmurs, though he's not sure where Aramis is. Either at the library or fetching food or with Athos or at work, but he's somewhere. He opens and closes his mouth, hating the dry taste, and hisses as he tries to sit up.

He's been in this situation for far too long and it's still barely been any time at all.

[theresalwayshope]

Allison turned towards the sound of Porthos's voice, a bemused smile flickering across her face when she realized it was coming from the vicinity of the bedroom, if not the bedroom proper. It didn't sound...lusty or anything, so that was a plus...

"Little late in the day to still be in bed, isn't it, Uncle Porthos?" she laughed, moving through the apartment. "I know you like to indulge a little, but that's what I'm for. Me and my muff--"

She cut herself off when she peered around the frame of the bedroom door, paling when she saw him. He looked fine, for the most part...but poking out from underneath his blankets was his foot, ensconced in a cast. A cast, like for a broken bone. Bumps and bruises were one thing, soothed with an ice pack, some ibuprofen, and a smile, but this...this was not a bump or a bruise.

Porthos was hurt.

"I...may never stop screaming at whoever is responsible for not telling me this shit." she spat softly, rushing into the room with cold, blazing fury in her features and a very real, very raw mixture of fear and concern in her eyes as she sat on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, she touched his cheek as she peered into his face...yeah, he was sleeping, all right. Probably on some stiff painkillers for his leg.

"Uncle Porthos, what happened? Who do I have to kill for making this happen to you?"

[du_vallon]

"It's only just happened," Porthos protests, given that he's only had time to settle in with a first round of books and make arrangements to keep the business still running. He's not even adjusted yet to the feel of the strange plaster. In their time, they had slings and cloth and while this is the first bone that Porthos has ever broken (fractured, technically), he would never have expected this sort of healing from it. "We had a client that hired us to track someone down that was avoiding payments. We found 'im, and I chased him up to the second floor of an apartment."

"Except, then he went over the balcony and I sort of followed," he admits, shifting with a pained look on his face when the drag of blankets causes pain. "We were going to tell you, there's just been a lot to do to get me settled here."

[theresalwayshope]

"Which I could have been helping with if someone had bothered to send me a text message!" Allison snapped, her anger coming up short for just an instant when the discomfort flashed across his features. It halted her tirade just long enough for her to twist around and fix his blankets, gently flipping them up over his cast so his foot stayed exposed with no further risk of being pulled or twisted in unexpected directions.

She then promptly turned back to him and continued on, furious.

"Three words: Porthos is hurt. Takes less than thirty seconds. You could have told Aramis to do it, and if that's too hard? I'm three floors below you! Stick a note on my door, for God's sake! And what the hell were you thinking, anyway...a balcony? I don't care if it was work, that's what long-distance shooting is for...a throwing knife could have stopped him so you didn't--"

She cut herself off with a dramatic, angry growl, then promptly flopped into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as best she could with him laying down, face pressed against his neck as she hugged him. It was, entirely possible, that she was blowing this a tiny bit out of proportion, but the last time someone in her family hadn't told her about an injury, it had been her mother and Derek's bite.

Victoria Argent's death was no longer a source of lasting pain for her, but it was the principle of the thing...and if something worse had happened to Porthos, she would suffer.

"Wedding's off." she deadpanned, voice muffled petulantly against his neck. "Gonna kill you both...you for breaking your leg, Aramis for not telling me. Can't get married if you're both dead."

[du_vallon]

"Cris de calice de tabernac, you are your grandfather's granddaughter," Porthos mutters under his breath as he adjusts the pillow behind his head, having only endured a similar rant like this less than a day ago when he'd injured himself for the first time. He hadn't meant to fall off the balcony, but the rickety wood had given way and sent them tumbling off, mostly likely due to Porthos' large body and muscle mass. "And we didn't want him dead. He ran off with some money, we were arresting him."

He grunts when she flops against him, hissing at the vibration. "You're not going to kill us," he mutters. "Aramis is busy taking care of me, so don't you dare yell at him," he warns her bluntly. "The man is already busy enough with me." He winces, realizing his pills are in the kitchen. "And if you don't fetch me my pills and water, you're already letting me die by way of pain."

[theresalwayshope]

Allison lifted her head to glare at him, then leaned in to hug him one more time.

"I hate you." she huffed, following it by kissing his cheek, his forehead, and his other cheek to punctuate each word. "I. Hate. You."

With that, she relented and rose with one final pat of his shoulder. She headed into the kitchen to get him some water first, and found the bottle on the counter. She checked the label to see what he was taking and made a face at the strength.

Suddenly, she forgave him a tiny bit for not remembering to call her. He was probably lucky he could remember his own name.

She stopped long enough to stow the soup in the fridge and put the muffins away, putting one on a plate for Porthos before she returned to him with pills, a bottle of water, and muffin in hand.

"You should have some food with your pain pills, they won't knock you out so fast." she advised, still pouting at him as she sat on the edge of the bed again, swatting his arm lightly to silently prod him to sit up. She set the salted caramel muffin on the nightstand, then handed him the water and checked his pill bottle for the dose before she opened it up and shook a tablet into her hand. Handing him the pill, she was quiet for a second...and went right back to lecturing him the second he'd swallowed his medication down.

"You didn't have to kill him, a nonlethal shot could have slowed him down, and if he's running it's totally justified! We need to work on target practice more...the whole family, I'm serious. And yes, I'm still going to kill you both. Especially Aramis...I'm going to call work later and let them know what's going on. That way I can switch shifts or take time off to help look after you and pick up the slack with the business if necessary...which you will not say word one about, because clearly no one in this family can be trusted not to maim themselves when I'm not around to protect them. Hmph."

[du_vallon]

Porthos reaches out for the muffin, his smile softening a little when he sees that she's made him his favourite. He pops off a bit of it and chews it thoughtfully while swallowing the pill, resting his head back against the headboard as he tugs the blankets a little hire. "You don't shoot people if you don't have to, Allison," Porthos argues sharply. "We were hired to track him down, not harm him. You don't hurt people if you don't have to," he growls. He lets out a frustrated huff. "And don't. yell. at. Aramis," he spits out every single word with a grim look on his face. "I'm not letting you make my fiancé feel miserable about something that he already feels terrible about."

He rarely lets himself go down this path, but he's weary and worn and she's poking every one of his buttons. "And Aramis doesn't need target practice," he adds, grumbling as he tugs up the blankets. "He's the best shot in this city."

[theresalwayshope]

"I hurt people who hurt my people." Allison insisted, a little startled by the dark look, but she didn't let it faze her. She was well aware that Porthos had a temper, and he was big enough to be scary...but he had a bum wheel, and she could outrun him.

She was starting to realize the problems Jason had, balancing his double life: she knew Porthos was right, but she could also feel that itch, the Alpha just under the skin, dying to track her prey and cut a goddamn fleur de lis in his chest so he would remember the man he'd wounded...

"There's no such thing as the best shot." she corrected, but a little more gently as she avoided his gaze, setting his water down for him and fussing with his blanket. "Someone better always comes along, and you all have to be better than them. Better than me."

With a peevish sigh, she shifted to tug off her boots so she could crawl in next to him without messing up the sheets.

"And I'll yell at Aramis if I want, he's my granddad. And you're my uncle...and Athos and D'artagnan, they're...family. You're all my family, and if something bad happens to any of you? I need to know. Immediately."

If she'd known about her mother right away, maybe she could have stopped what happened. Kept her alive, kept Gerard out of her head...

"I can't protect my weak spots if I don't know where they are." she finished quietly, setting her boots neatly by the bed and rising to walk around so she could stretch out in the open spot next to Porthos.

[du_vallon]

"I might be hurt, but I'll heal," he says pointedly, his eyes wide as he gives her a firm look that says he'll be fine if he's given the chance to heal, which is all he needs. "Allison, it's two small fractures in my foot. I've had much worse. Ask Aramis sometimes about the times I've nearly died. Those are serious. This is just a break from walking," he promises.

He sighs and feels worn that he hasn't managed to convince her to leave Aramis alone, making a note to warn him about the impending lecture, but knowing them, they'll combine forces on them. "It's not your job to keep us whole," he reminds her. "We're adults, kid, and more than that, Aramis and I are taking vows to look after each other. You have to trust we'll be fine, even if we get a bit damaged every now and again. I mean, look at 'Mis getting his neck chewed up. It was scary, but we managed."

[theresalwayshope]

"Scary?" she huffed, scooting in to curl up against his side as she fixed him with an incredulous look. "My grandfather threatened to kill me with a giant, venomous lizard he was controlling, and the only reason I cried that night was because I had to break up with my boyfriend. Once I knew Aramis was stable, I went home and had hysterics...and that was before I even knew he was my ancestor! You can bet your ass when I go home later, I'm gonna have myself a good cry over your stupid foot, so don't tell me you're adults, because it doesn't matter."

Taking care of her loved ones was Allison's job. It was her function in the pack, it was her reason for being part of it. She was Scott's muscle, and she was the shield that stood between her friends and whatever was running at them. It was the same when anyone in her pack was injured, at the end of the day...the gut check reaction was always the same.

I failed. I should have been there.

Snuggling against his side, she wrapped an arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder as he sat up in bed, pouting as hard as she knew how.

"So don't ever call me 'kid' again, shut up, and hug me, goddamnit." she huffed, poking his side with her index finger for good measure.

[du_vallon]

Porthos does as he's told because she seems to be more upset than he is about the fractured foot. At least his arms still work the same as ever and he wraps his arms around her snug and tight, refusing to let go as he rocks her side to side, slightly. "It's just a few cracks in my bones, Allison. I'm not dying, I'm not even in the worst pain I've ever felt in my life," he promises. "Pain goes away." He shrugs, having always dealt with his own pain in a very cut and dry way. It exists, you treat it, and then it goes away.

True, he's a bit of a baby when it comes to handling said pain, but Allison doesn't need to know that. "And if I can't call you kid, then it's minou all day," he warns, kissing her forehead. "Don't fret so much. You and Aramis both, you'll give yourself palpitations of the heart."