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The phone vibrating in his pocket nearly made him to drop the bag of tortilla chips he was clutching.
“No, the other one.” The petite woman pointed toward a red-bagged brand, rather than the blue Porthos had assumed. “Please?”
“Yeah...yeah sure.” He swung his hips to grab the phone and exchange the bags. He imagined Aramis would comment on the maneuver were the man here. Devil take him, Aramis’ grinning face was filling up his screen.
“Thank you so much.” The older woman patted his forearm.
He nodded at the woman, giving her a dimpled smile – he’d always liked helping others no matter how small the effort or deed seemed.
“What.”
“Really, Porthos. ‘What?’ Is that any way to greet one of your favorite humans?”
“Aramis.” He waited for a teasing response over the silence. Porthos’ building irritation rushed from him when the lights flickered. “Aramis? Aramis.”
The call had dropped. The storm was interfering with reception. Perfect.
He mashed his thumb on the redial. Aramis was supposed to be at work, and if he were calling maybe there was trouble. Porthos just hoped Aramis wasn’t the cause of whatever difficulty might be brewing.
He growled softly at the loud beep that signaled the call wouldn’t connect.
Porthos’ hand vibrated with the few texts that pushed before he could press his finger to the screen again.
Well, hell.
Porthos grabbed the bag of chips he’d been intending to grab before being called upon for aid: in the store and on the literal phone.
He could pull the last few items and get to the checkout in less than 5 minutes. Loading the car was never fun in the rain, but this particular small market was close enough to their house. He should be able to get back home in the promised time. It always made him anxious, knowing one of them needed him. Especially so when the one who needed wasn’t asking. Still, if Aramis had not felt he needed to stay home then it might not be a bad spell. He pushed the cart one-handed and glanced down when he felt the incoming response.
His most important summons to aid was the man back at home. The one who had not asked for him.
He’d been mostly finished when Aramis called so it was the work of a few minutes to grab some additional, unplanned items. He maneuvered his cart, arcing around a group of teens stocking up on frozen meals, to snag some ice cream. They had supplies for baking at home, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to add to the proposed picnic. Besides, depending on the recipe, Athos had proven to be the best baker of the lot of them. The man’s attention to detail matched itself well to the precision that went into baking.
Porthos had a number of errands on his list after the grocery trip, but his new mission took priority over those plans.
Pleasant as he could be he had to restrain himself and only roll his eyes when a cart nearly collided with his. The woman didn’t look at him, having won her self-created race to cut him off, and she began unloading her items onto the belt. Items, Porthos frowned, that were near double his own when he counted. He shifted his weight and braced on the cart handle, but kept his peace.
He did crane his neck to see if he could spot a quicker line when a crash and flash outside the windows set the lights flickering again. If the power went out it would take even longer to be rung up. He hated the self-checkouts, but he’d have used it now. Of course this store didn’t have one. Porthos rubbed a hand through his beard and debated calling Athos himself. When he got in a low mood Athos sometimes couldn’t work up the energy to explain if Aramis was pushing, even if was out of concern.
“Excuse me, sir?”
His mood dropped. He resisted a sigh as he turned from watching for the next bit of lightning. He knew he’d let the girl go ahead if she only had a few items, but just this one time he wanted to get out of the store faster than he wanted to be polite.
The young woman, wearing an apron that displayed the store’s logo, nodded at his cart. She waved a hand that displayed bright colored nails over to the empty lane behind her. “I can take you, if you like?”
Glancing to where the couple was counting out exact change in front of the woman who’d so gleefully cut him off he just winked at her when she overheard and whipped her head around. Technically she was next, but it wasn’t like it made sense for her stuff back off the belt.
“Thanks, that'd be real nice of you.”
He smiled to himself and not at the frowning woman who was still on line when he wheeled his cart from the small market.
Porthos didn’t call out to Athos when he got home. Toeing off his shoes, he left his coat to drip dry in downstairs bathroom. Athos would have heard the doors and Porthos moving about the kitchen. As he stuffed the carrots into the crisper drawer he dug his phone out. Might as well hit two birds with one stone, or kittens in this case. One of these days he’d edit Aramis’ customized contacts on his phone.
Porthos checked the marinades he’d started last night and strategized what to air fry and which bits to throw in the oven. He jammed a few of his bagged and boxed snacks into an already packed cabinet. Of the three of them, the one most likely to fuss at the disorder wouldn’t be in the kitchen tonight. He debated his ingredients with every step up the stairs.
The bedroom door was shut. He wondered if Aramis had closed it when he left or Athos would have had to emerge at any point to shut it himself. Porthos figured Aramis was accurate about Athos’ mood so he doubted Aramis would have left the door ajar – he wouldn’t force Athos into action if he really weren’t capable.
Sure enough, when he pushed the door open – silent and careful – Athos was turned to the wall and window. Even if Athos could see from that angle, he’d only be able to make out the sky; Porthos frowned when he saw the rain getting heavier. He was a lump ensconced in the comforter and soft blankets – from when Aramis took up knitting, and crochet, but thankfully they’d been able to talk him out of quilting; Athos refused to have scraps and threads everywhere. Porthos let his breath out slowly when he leaned back to let the door close with a click.
No doubt Athos had heard him on the stairs, he was expected. Somewhere under the blankets there was a phone too.
“Want me to keep texting, or can I join you?”
There was no verbal reply, but a pale arm snaked backward to flip a blanket edge before retreating.
“Right.” Porthos wasted no time shedding his jeans and tugging off his hoodie.
He sat on “his side” of the bed – closest to the wall with the door. Back in the days when it had been just him and Aramis he’d insisted on always taking the side closest to the door in their various lodgings. Aramis had scoffed and called him old-fashioned, but snuggled up and made a big to do about being grateful for the unneeded protection.
He plucked his socks to toss next to the nightstand he and Aramis now shared. Aramis had graciously offered Athos his own. Athos had all but insisted on it after originally sharing with him. Random surprises still appeared now and again when Aramis ‘forgot.’
Dropping back he swung his legs underneath the blanket nest. Porthos tucked them as he turned on his side, seeking out the edges of just where Athos’ were.
“Feeling up to a snuggle?”
He tugged on the edge of the topmost blanket. Revealing ruffled hair he could see enough to make out the nod.
“Guessin’ you don’t want to talk?” Porthos kissed the top of the head he’d revealed and rumbled the question out above the lashing rain. The heavy pour was thrashing on the glass now.
Athos’ response was a shrug of shoulder that conveniently lifted his arm just as Porthos slid his own around his middle.
“My fault,” Porthos gave him a squeeze. “I think we’re best with yes and no questions.”
Athos tucked his head and Porthos felt his legs pull up a bit, he was curling in on himself, but he wriggled his hips to tuck against Porthos. He also twined their fingers and rested their joined hands on his stomach.
Porthos slid his head on the pillow and ordered the tangled blankets a bit to make sure he was pressed more tightly to Athos’ back. Both of his men complained about what a furnace he could be, but they’d both gravitate to him depending on the weather. On chilly nights Aramis tugged and draped him like a live blanket and Athos all but burrowed into his side.
“Not loving that,” Porthos nudged the back of his neck as the afternoon lit room was brightened with multiple flickers. “Glad he took the 4Matic today.” Technically the Mercedes belonged to Athos, but they all drove each others’ cars.
Athos nodded. The blanket slipped a little more. Porthos bet if he raised himself up he could see Athos’ profile. For now, he’d stay the ‘big spoon,’ he knew how tough it was for Athos to speak sometimes. Until he knew what today was like, he figured Athos would have an easier time not having to look at anyone.
“He wanted to stay,” Porthos snuck a kiss to the back of neck Athos’ shifting exposed. “That’s from him.”
Porthos slid his other arm under Athos and held him tight for a beat.
“Feel like talking?”
Athos shrugged again, but didn’t say anything.
Porthos felt him draw in a breath, his arm rising with the expansion of Athos’ chest. Whether he was gathering pieces of himself together to speak, or he meant to let it out in a sigh Athos was cut off by rapid buzzing. He rolled to snatch his phone’s slide across the wood, catching the muffled hums of sound of Athos’ under the covers.
“Sounds like someone does.” He rubbed his cheek to Athos’ t-shirt covered back in half-apology for separating. The darkening room left him squinting at the screen.
Porthos was ready to tease him more. He didn’t envy him having to deal with all of them, and hoped Treville was keeping him calm. His thumb hovered to text. When he heard the huff beside him he thought Athos was laughing along with the exchange. He had his phone pulled just out of his cocoon, Porthos could see the light in his peripheral, but it abruptly went dark and Athos placed it on his nightstand.
“Athos?”
He heard the huff again, but his chest felt too tight for his heart when he realized it was a sniff.
“Hey.” He pulled the arm wound under Athos to rub at his shoulder and chest, wherever he could reach with the free hand. “Gimme one sec here.”
He fired off a quick message back to Aramis and smiled when he could hear the buzzing back before his phone dropped back to the mattress.
“C’mere.” He squeezed both arms like bands around Athos, compressing them. Sometimes Athos needed the pressure – the reminder that he wasn’t adrift with his dark moods. He knew, from experience, that Porthos would immediately release him if he indicated he didn’t want to be touched.
“What was that?” Porthos nudged his hair with his nose, not catching the whisper, softening the pressure of his grip but holding him securely.
“I wanted him to stay.” Athos repeated.
Porthos felt his lips pull in, resisting making a pitying sound. He knew how it felt to want one or both of them close. And Athos clearly needed them today.
“You could have told him that,” Porthos nuzzled at the neckline of his t-shirt. “He would have stayed.”
“Selfish.”
Porthos let the sigh loose, watching the breath waft Athos’ hair. He ignored the muffled buzz behind them. Athos’ own phone lit up in its silent mode.
“It is not selfish.” He gave him a little shake, bound up as he was in his arms. “He could have done it remote, or postponed.”
“He’s alone.”
Porthos did laugh this time. “You sayin’ he can’t handle ‘em solo?”
Athos did make a soft noise in response.
“Exactly. Besides Treville was supposed to be there, right?”
“I should’ve been.” The half-buried face rubbed into the pillow in a retreat from the question.
“Doesn’t sound like fun to me. Glad I didn’t have to go this time.” He squeezed Athos’ shoulder, trying to settle his thoughts. Athos tended to spiral into guilt when, pushing them away or not asking them when he needed them. “They’ll be fine.”
Athos let out a longer noncommittal sound, and gripped Porthos’ forearm.
“You will too.” Porthos nestled as close as he could, slotting his knees behind Athos. It was a bed day indeed, and he settled in to remain with Athos for as long as he was needed.
Porthos kissed just behind Athos’ ear. He was a bit foggy – the rain still thrashed against the glass – but content from the nap. He was even more pleased to feel Athos has linked their legs in a warm tangle. The room had gotten much darker, the later hour and storm stealing the light. He took a chance and raised up to peer down at Athos’ profile.
Sensing the gentle stare, Athos turned just enough to make out Porthos’ smile. Both of them flicked their eyes behind them when the vibrating started again. Athos’ own phone lit up their faces and Porthos smiled in concession.
“Accessory to murder, is still murder.” Athos sighed. “Answer him before he does something stupid.”
His expression froze before Porthos snorted and leaned down to kiss Athos’ cheek. The one marred with wrinkle impressions from being plastered to the pillow.
“What makes you think he hasn’t already?” Porthos’ own cheek dimpled. “Maybe that’s what he’s trying to tell us.”
“Then he’s on his own.”
Porthos stared down at him, daring him to disagree. “We’re never on our own.”
Athos looked up at him, his eyes a little lost and edging toward overwhelmed.
Their phones persisted lighting up and buzzing.
“Fine. We’ll bail him out. Just answer.”
Porthos grabbed for Athos’ phone and clicked on the bedside light. Swiping Athos’ code, he opened their group chat. “Well, look at that.”
He held the phone low, giving Athos a minute to adjust before raising it for him to read.
Ever sacrificing, ready to subsume his needs as if they didn’t matter. As though he needed to pay recompense for the weakness of needing. He shifted to let Porthos recover his arm.
Porthos hooked a leg over his hip and halted any further movement. Toggling to the microphone, he spoke for both of their benefit. “You get your cookies when you get your butt safely home and in this bed. Be careful.”
When they’d both looked at Aramis’ response Porthos dragged the blanket cocoon tighter and they settled back in to wait. He felt a flush of pride when Athos relaxed against him again, a tiny smile curling the edge his mouth.