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“Aramis.”
Athos did not look to the shelves where the other had been poking at random items that took his fancy. His tone got sharper, and louder, when the music began playing. “I am working.”
“Do it later?”
When Athos did look up from his papers it was to see Aramis’ back, bent over slightly and not unappealing in his sweatpants. His open hoodie swung like a cloak when he turned and held out an arm.
“Dance with me?”
“Turn it down, please.” Athos tucked his head back down, shifting his current article onto the arm of the sofa and plucking a new one from the pile next to his blanket.
He had an office here, and another on campus; both were in equal states of controlled clutter. Many afternoons he preferred working in their living room, the fireplace lending a cozy atmosphere and generally Porthos and Aramis left him to his own devices if he looked particularly involved.
Until now, Aramis had kept himself occupied with rummaging in the kitchen and watering the plants, he’d even washed some of the dishes. Loudly. And clumsily – being one armed at the moment – but it kept him engaged. Athos had incorrectly assumed Aramis understood that while Athos was here it was to ensure Aramis was not alone, he was not here to entertain him.
He glanced up to see the narrow hips swaying, the movement precariously close to the ZZ plant Porthos had on a pedestal he’d made from an old barrel. Athos smirked as he recalled the subsequent discussion about casks when they’d brought it home – the two of them still wanted to own a butt just so they could make every joke about ‘buttloads’ possible.
He was dating children. It was a sobering thought that some of his graduate students were more mature than his partners.
“Please?”
Athos did not know how the man managed to look alluring with one arm in a sling, in sweats, and making off-timed movements that would look ridiculous on anyone else.
“Just one song?”
“It will never be ‘just one song.’ You’ll want another after that and - ”
“Porthos danced with me, this morning.” Aramis changed his pace, moving faster and counter to the beat of the music already playing. “Bachata.”
“Then you should not require to do so again now.” While Aramis spun in a circle that Athos was fairly certain would not be part of that dance, he slipped his phone from the cushions.
[Athos: Did you really dance a bachata with him?]
“Aramis, you’re supposed to be resting.”
“One dance,” Aramis bargained, “you can pick the music.”
His hips kept moving, Athos could admit it was hypnotic, but his bound arm looked a bit silly as he tried to coordinate it with the smooth arc of his right one.
[Porthos: that what he’s calling it?]
[Porthos: no]
[Porthos: he rotated his hips and himself around me]
[Porthos: while I made him breakfast]
[Porthos: told him he needs to rest]
[Athos: …]
It was his standard reference for a frustrated look, a stand-in for a soft glare or general disbelief to what he was being told.
[Porthos: good luck managing him]
“No.”
“Not even a slow dance?”
[Porthos: call me if you need help!]
He needed patience. In spades. “No.” Putting a finger to his place he refused to look anywhere below Aramis’ neck and pinned his gaze. “I am busy.”
Aramis stopped. Tripping over a step that he didn’t calculate an end for – or perhaps the concussion or use of one arm was inhibiting his balance Aramis stilled.
The music cut.
[Athos: Thank you. We’ll be fine]
“Athos, I’m bored.” It had ceased to be piteous days ago. Athos was empathetic; being injured was not fun and he knew that for someone as restless as Aramis it was a particular challenge.
[Porthos: ok good luck xxx]
He needed a plan more than luck. He also resented Porthos’ standard sign-off and triple-x kiss joke at the moment. It was more amusing when he didn’t want to lock one of his lovers in a room, with himself on the other side of the door.
“Why not find something quiet to do? Something you can sit down for?” It was chilly out and Aramis got cold faster than either Porthos or him. Athos eyed the fireplace, checking how far the log had left, he’d no intention of letting Aramis change it. “How about an audiobook?”
Aramis rolled his eyes to the ceiling, before fixing a pleading stare at Athos. “I already finished it while you were out earlier.”
“Surely that was not the only book you have?”
“No, but I’m tired of them.” Aramis made a wafting gesture towards his head. Glancing at him in a plea for pity. “And my ears hurt if they’re in too long.”
“I see.” Athos would not argue the point, he reached for the tea on the side-table nearest him, holding up his cup before taking a sip. “Did you eat lunch?”
“Porthos made it before he left.” Probably part of the dishes Aramis had clattered around and washed earlier.
“Have some tea?”
“I’ve already had three cups!”
A caffeinated one, he assumed. Probably a tisane, at that. Or worse, ‘tea dust’ as Aramis didn't always have the patience to deal with steeping his tea. Athos shuddered. He set his own back down, willing himself not to raid their wine this early. “Then why don’t you - “
“Please just dance with me?” Aramis walked closer bending slightly to peer at him over the coffee table. Porthos had made that too.
“No. Aramis, I have at least another hour of reading and then there’s grading I left from last week.”
Never one to be deterred, Aramis continued to petition him. “All the more reason to take a break.”
Athos did not voice how ridiculous he looked trying to put his hands on his hips when only one arm could manage the motion.
“It might relax you?” Aramis tried.
“I am quite relaxed, thank you.”
“Funny...you sound so tense.” Aramis smirked at him.
All right. Thought he was so clever did he? “Aramis, if you don’t stop I will put you over my knee. Find something to do.”
Athos was clearly less clever. Aramis pounced before he’d finished speaking; he’d certainly something to do now.
“Your hand or an implement?”
He willed himself not to throw his head onto the back of the couch. It was more difficult to resist hurling a pillow at Aramis. Or a book.
Athos went for a mild glare.
“Shall I count them aloud? Hmm? French? English? Spanish?”
“Aramis.” He warned. Once again he realized he’d miscalculated only after he spoke.
Aramis rounded the table and launched himself into a kneel next to him. Fortunately that left his unencumbered right arm free to grip the back of the couch for balance. Unfortunately it put his knees into the perfect position to crush the articles Athos had set along the cushions. “You’ve really no idea what an authoritative tone in your voice does, do you?”
This new position also left Aramis’ hand room to play with the hair at his nape. His mouth soon followed, his nose rubbing Athos’ ear as he kissed along his neck.
“You prefer authority?” He didn’t look up. “Stop that. Or I’ll put you in the corner.”
“Mmmm,” Aramis switched to nuzzling the join of neck and shoulder, dropping his voice to question. “Before or after?”
Athos turned to him, he was going to wrinkle early from the many times he arched his eyebrow in a given conversation with Aramis.
“Details are more important than people realize in constructing erotic fantasies.” Aramis let his hand rest on Athos’ shoulder where his mouth had trailed moments prior. “It’s why most people’s are so very repetitive. And dull.”
“Heaven forbid we are ever dull.” He reached to where he’d tucked his phone between his thigh and the couch.
“We do quite well.” He rubbed at the tenseness in Athos’ shoulder.
[Athos: Have we ever discovered an unsexy threat?]
“Even if Porthos and I sometimes need to remind you to experiment.” His breath was close enough that Athos knew Aramis would not be dissuaded long.
[Porthos: not yet guess you’re working on it? ;)]
“Forgive me for being so mundane.” He tugged at the crinkling papers and nodded his thanks when Aramis lifted each knee in turn to release them.
“Oh mundane can be exciting in the right circumstances. I can make drinking tea quite the experience.” Aramis leaned past his neck, trying to peer at his phone. “Who are you texting?”
“Will you please stop?” He dropped the phone and raised his hand to encourage Aramis back, but when he placed it on the thin t-shirt Aramis grabbed it.
He was practically vibrating from the caffeine or his own restlessness. It didn’t matter because it shook the articles Athos was holding and he used their joined hands to leverage himself over. Athos momentarily wished he’d flung himself over his lap rather than straddling him, but reminded himself he could smack at him either way.
“Really, must you?”
“Exercise will be good for me.” He released Athos’ hand to hook his arm around Athos’ neck to stabilize his position. “Don’t you want to help me recover?”
Aramis peered up at him, one of his trademark expressions of persuasion on his face. He bumped their noses before kissing Athos. When he deepened it, and Athos groaned, he likely knew he’d won.
“Do I?”
When his words caused a little pout to pull at the mouth he’d just kissed he felt a ping of guilt. That was unkind. He loved him, and this had not been easy on any of them. “That was unfair or me.”
“Hmm...you can make it up to me.” Aramis smiled and stole another kiss. “Lap dance?”
Before Athos could point out that technically Aramis giving him the dance was more benefit to Athos – then again, by Aramis’ logic it probably made sense – the body in his lap was undulating. A body roll and figure eight of his hips dropped Aramis’ weight further onto Athos. He tried to dig himself further back into the cushions and drew his articles up between their faces.
The huffing laughter blew against the papers and sent them tipping toward his nose.
“That’s not going to help me read any faster.” Athos continued to read the sentence he could speak from memory at this point.
They’d done their best to support Aramis. Moving schedules to accommodate doctors appointments so he didn’t have to go alone; they’d coordinated who would drive him for the many PT sessions, and altered their work patterns so he would not be left by himself in the house. The least their action-oriented partner could do would be to give him a little time to focus on his own projects.
“C’mon” Two fingers pushed over the top of the papers, crinkling them down so he could access Athos’ face for a kiss. “Please?” The roll he managed with his torso had Athos dropping the bound pages to the side to lay his hand flat to steady along Aramis’ back.
With Athos’ arm bracing him, Aramis looked like he’d just been told he could have his way. He pressed his advantage along with his hips. “Alright how about trying a horizontal tango instead?”
“You. Are. Horrible.” But he couldn’t stop his own laugh as he met Aramis’ eyes as such a close distance.
“Seems to be working for you though.” Aramis dropped his gaze between them. He flicked his eyes back up and raised a brow.
Athos had never known another person who could look at you and look so guileless when you knew he was plotting all manner of removing his clothing and yours.
The yelp-laugh combination was a new sound, but he liked it. Having toppled Aramis off to the side onto the cushions Athos stretched and let his shirt display a bit of the waist Aramis was so found of touching. “When you’re done laying about I’ll be in the bedroom awaiting your instruction…”
The deep laugh that followed him down the hallway was a much more familiar sound and one that he cherished.