du_vallon | (no subject)

Normally, Aramis does the laundry for them.

That said, after his broken foot, Porthos has been trying to pay the man back as best as he can using whatever wiles he has. One of them is taking on all the chores that Aramis would normally do and that includes laundry. He's still not used to bundling all their things up and going down the street, but he does like that he can do it himself rather than hand it off to the laundress (like the one in Paris who had always given Porthos dirty looks). The older shirts take special washing, but modern clothes? Now, those are easy.

Today, he's got the brim of things (and if he paid attention, he'd realize that he's also got things from his and Aramis' venture into...well, other things) and has tossed the bag over his shoulder to the floor, digging out the soap and coins when he sights a familiar face in the establishment. "You know," he muses to Allison, "normally Aramis does this, but I can see the appeal. It sort of lets your mind wander, doesn't it?"

He peers around the machines to pick one he likes, nudging the bag with him to peek at which one he likes the best.

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Allison was just starting a load of her own laundry when Porthos walked into the laundromat. There was a laundry room in the basement of the building, but she didn't trust the machines, what with the one off to the side that always smelled funny. The laundromat was only a block away, it was well lit, and it even had free wifi.

Which didn't matter today, since she'd left her laptop at home. It made Porthos a welcome distraction, one she greeted with a kiss on the cheek as he stooped in front of a machine to get out his things.

"You'd be surprised how much homework I get done on laundry day." she laughed, reaching for his bag as he struggled for his soap and coins to hold it open for him. "Here, let me--"

She cut herself off when her thumb hooked into the edge of something done in black lace. She leaned over, peering in as Porthos snagged his detergent...yeah, that wasn't part of a uniform or mesh, that was black lace.

Which, a few months ago, she wouldn't have balked at because her uncles weren't exclusive. Now...

She didn't want to think about what that meant.

Suddenly worried and frantic, Porthos almost leaps forward to catch the bag of his things and tug it back, including the lace bit that had been peeking out. He flushes red in the face and turns his back to Allison so he can load up his own machine. "I'll put them in over here," he insists, trying his best not to look her in the eye for fear of what he'll see.

What he would see, if he were looking, were deep upset and confusion because she was so certain things were good between them. She thought that marrying each other was what they both wanted...and Porthos had been so sure Aramis would never be ready to settle down...

It troubled her to think she might have misjudged Aramis so greatly that he'd drive Porthos into the arms of another woman.

She followed him to his machine, reaching out to lay a hand on his back.

"Porthos...you know you can tell me anything." she assured him. "Blood isn't a factor, you're my family. You're both my family...and I will keep your secrets as readily as I will keep his." She hesitated, moving around to his side, the worry obvious on her face.

"I know what I just saw...I just...can you tell me why?"

Porthos peers up in her direction, sheepish and shuffling through his things as he works to get the cloths into the wash, unable to avoid looking at Allison when she makes her presence known. "I really don't want to talk about it with you," he says, but in the manner that comes across a bit whiny and nervous. He really isn't sure that he's ready to discuss their private lives so thoroughly.

"I don't know what you saw, after all," he says, desperately clinging to whatever stubbornness he has left.