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“You seem distant, mi sol,” Porthos murmured, running his hands up and down the bare skin of Aramis' back.
It had been an awful couple of days. He'd been caught up in a conspiracy that very nearly resulted in his being hanged and the murder of hundreds of innocent people in the Court.
“I think you loved him,” Aramis said quietly.
Aramis couldn't get past the sight of Porthos touching Charon's face when he fell. Aramis hadn't had a choice. It was pure reflex. He was trying to kill Porthos. Porthos, himself, had said the same. But that moment. That touch.
“You did it to save me,” Porthos said gently.
They were stretched out on the sofa in their apartments. Porthos was stretched out on his back with Aramis on his stomach on top of him. He'd been dozing since they got home while Athos had visited. Aramis had woken him a short while ago.
“You did love him, then?” Aramis asked sadly.
“I don't know,” Porthos answered honestly. “When we were kids we ran together. He was pretty much my only source of levity. I... It's...” he trailed off.
Aramis listened to Porthos' steady heartbeat. It had taken years for Porthos to be able to open up to him but he knew it was still difficult. He waited patiently.
“I can't explain to you what it was like, Aramis. I was five, y'know? Charon's Mum died on the birthing bed and his Dad just disappeared and abandoned him only a few years after my Mum died. I'd been on my own and-” Porthos stopped suddenly.
Aramis didn't lift his head but he began to stroke Porthos' hips gently where his hands were resting. He felt Porthos take a deep breath and began again.
“I had a friend. I had someone looking out for me and I had someone to look out for. It's hard to underestimate the difference that made. I... yes. We spent nights together as we grew up. He was my first. I might have loved him once but not enough to stay and not enough to ever seek him out again,” Porthos said firmly.
“You stopped yourself killing him, though,” Aramis whispered.
“Well I had just slept with his girlfriend,” Porthos teased.
At this, Aramis chuckled weakly.
“Do you love her?” he asked.
“Yeah, probably. But again, not enough to willingly set foot in that place. She's... Charon was a source of levity but Flea was the only source of comfort and affection after Mum,” Porthos replied stiffly.
Aramis finally lifted his head and searched Porthos' face. His expression was calm and Aramis could find none of the blame he'd been expecting since they'd left the garrison.
“Eres mi vida, Porthos,” Aramis said softly. “Even when I'm... If I... With others... you are my life. You're the one I come home to, every time.”
Aramis dropped his eyes and Porthos frowned slightly. There was a reticence in Aramis' expression that was making him uncomfortable.
“Aramis?”
The slighter man had fallen silent again and dropped his head back onto Porthos' chest.
“Believe me when I say I don't blame you. Please,” Porthos said tentatively.
Aramis didn't react. Porthos' frown deepened as he tried to think what was bothering his lover. It clearly wasn't just Charon's death after all.
“I love you, Sire. I really do. More than anyone I've ever met. More than Charon, more than Flea, more than life itself. You know that, right?” Porthos asked softly.
He felt Aramis take a deep shuddering breath and tilted Aramis' chin round to force him to look up. He sucked in a breath of his own, seeing Aramis' eyes filled with tears.
“Aramis?” Porthos asked again. His concern was growing with every moment that Aramis didn't open up.
“I didn't care,” Aramis whispered.
Porthos watched him helplessly.
“I don't understand, love,” he said.
“When I killed him. I didn't care. I took a man's life and didn't care,” Aramis repeated, dropping his eyes.
Porthos finally understood and wrapped his arms tightly around Aramis, pressing them together.
“Oh Sire,” he breathed.
Aramis took another shuddering breath and felt the tears beginning to spill over. He was so ashamed. Not just for killing someone who was clearly important to Porthos but for not minding. Even when he took a man's life in the heat of battle, he did it with reluctance. He never enjoyed it but he had his job to do. Wherever possible he always blessed them and rested their eyes. Today, though... No. He could never tell Porthos that.
Porthos resumed running his hands up and down Aramis' back, feeling tears spring to his own eyes as he felt Aramis start to cry. He knew what a huge thing it was for Aramis not to feel a slight flash of guilt taking someone's life. He could feel Aramis holding something back, though and he began to sit up.
Aramis felt Porthos stir and attempted to leap up but was held fast while Porthos shifted. Gradually Porthos settled again, sat up with Aramis cradled sideways in his lap like a child. Aramis quickly ducked his head again to hide his face from Porthos' view.
“I call you my sun because you make everything brighter. You made everything brighter the first time I met you. The first time I saw you, even. Nothing you can do will change that,” Porthos said soothingly, stroking his hand up and down where it rested on Aramis' clothed thigh.
“You can't say that,” Aramis blurted, anger colouring his voice.
“I can, Sire. I don't call you my sun because your skin is warm. I say it because you are necessary to me. I need you like the plants need the sun. The sun will dry out crops and burn people's skin but it is necessary. You are necessary,” Porthos insisted.
Aramis pulled himself upright and stared at Porthos, who flinched at the anger in the normally kind eyes.
“Oh yeah? Even though I killed your best friend? I stuck my sword in his belly. It went straight in. I didn't just not care, Porthos. I-” he stopped himself.
The colour immediately drained from his face as he suddenly realised he had nearly said the very thing he'd promised himself he wouldn't. He quickly tried to pull himself from Porthos' arms and grew frustrated at his lover's refusal to let go.
“Talk to me, Aramis,” Porthos said softly, tightening his arms.
Aramis turned his face away from Porthos and went still.
“Sire,” Porthos said firmly. “We have been basically married for five years now. Talk to me.”
Despite himself, Aramis chuckled. Porthos jumped on the opportunity.
“Come on, love. What is it?” he coaxed.
Aramis sighed deeply as Porthos curled his arm around Aramis and brushed the hair back off his face. Aramis reluctantly turned his face to Porthos.
“You will despise me, mi vida,” Aramis said. He dropped his eyes to his lap and twisted his fingers together nervously.
Porthos didn't answer and simply waited for Aramis to force the words out.
“My heart dropped out of my body when I heard you sentenced to death. I felt relieved when we realised where you'd gone because I knew you had friends there. I knew you would be safe. You could take care of yourself and you knew that place like the back of your hand.”
Porthos nodded when Aramis paused and shifted his arms, pulling him tighter in his lap. Aramis took a deep shuddering breath, enjoying the feeling of Porthos holding him so tightly since it wouldn't last once he'd told him...
“I admit I got worried when Athos was denied access to you. I am ashamed to admit I got slightly jealous. I obviously knew about Flea and wondered if she still lived there. I knew that you had laid with men there and I was jealous of them. I found myself unable to rest, thinking of you surrounded by those men who first... turned your head,” Aramis continued.
Porthos frowned. Aramis was never one to be jealous. They often discussed any women they spent time with. Like Aramis had said earlier, they always came home to each other.
Aramis looked up and saw Porthos' confusion.
“You are the only man I've ever made love to. I know we've had our occasional episodes with Athos but you... I know you've laid with other men and I am ashamed to admit I became jealous of the idea of you spending time with men you may have previously been intimate with. I don't doubt your loyalty whatsoever... I just...” he tailed off and sighed.
Porthos pressed a kiss into his dark waves.
“You are the only man I've ever been in love with and I won't spend the night with another without you,” he murmured, his hand stroking Aramis' arm while the other tugged Aramis' legs closer.
Aramis sighed softly. While that was a surprising relief to hear, Porthos hadn't heard the worst of it.
“When we realised what was going on, I felt sick. We had so little time to get to you. I was horrified that the last time I would see you was being led to the gallows and unable to say goodbye. I couldn't... I was determined to find you.”
Porthos kissed his hair again, feeling Aramis tensing up in his arms.
“I'm here. I'm safe. I have you,” he murmured.
Aramis swallowed and carried on.
“So we rushed into the court. I wasn't really searching for De Mauvoisin's men. I was searching for you. While I feel a slight guilt for not following orders, you were my ultimate priority,” Aramis said quietly.
“That is what's bothering you?” Porthos asked, incredulously.
“If only,” Aramis murmured.
Porthos frowned, seeing the tears reappearing in Aramis' eyes.
“Come on, love,” he encouraged.
“When I cut him, I had no idea who he was. But then when you cradled him and you... you held him...” Aramis trailed off. He swallowed around the growing lump and again saw that moment Porthos held the man's cheek.
Porthos' ears didn't catch the tiny whisper Aramis uttered.
“Aramis?” he asked again.
“I saw the way you touched him, realised he must have meant something to you and I felt... pleased,” he said, ending in a whisper again.
Porthos' hands stilled on Aramis' body as this information filtered through his brain. He was dimly aware of Aramis trying to get up and knew it was because he'd misunderstood Porthos' stillness. He simply tightened his arms and continued to think.
Aramis felt Porthos' hold him in place and held himself still. He risked a glance up to his lover's face and saw him frowning in thought, not revulsion. He waited, his heart in his mouth, for Porthos' reply. After what felt like an age, Porthos started stroking Aramis' arm again.
“Do you still feel pleased?”
“Dear God! No!” Aramis gasped.
“Then why so unhappy?” Porthos asked calmly.
Aramis struggled in Porthos' arms until he'd managed to sit up enough to meet his eyes.
“Porthos... I was happy to kill someone. Not just in the satisfied way one feels when a battle is done. I watched him die in your arms and felt a perverse sense of pleasure that someone who put his hands on you and led you into danger was dead at my hands,” Aramis said harshly.
Porthos continued to watch him calmly.
“Did you know the lad asked Athos about you?” Porthos asked.
Aramis blinked at the change in topic.
“Asked what?”
“Apparently when I was injured on the way back from Le Havre you turned, in d'Artagnan's words, savage. He asked Athos about it. You and I do become absolutely savage when the other is threatened,” Porthos said quietly.
“Athos mentioned that, yes,” Aramis replied softly.
“Our kind of love is all consuming, Sire. I adore you. It's a part of living life to the full, Aramis. Love will come with pain and this is part of it. We don't have to suffer the pain. We can just live through it,” Porthos said soothingly.
Aramis stared at him in wonder.
“You don't... you don't mind? You don't think badly of me for being... pleased to kill someone? Someone you cared about?” he asked incredulously.
“You aren't still pleased. You had a sudden reaction that lasted but an instant. You think I didn't have that reaction when I heard Marsac was dead? The man who left you for dead, injured and alone. For a moment I was pleased. Then the emotion passed,” he answered, shrugging.
Aramis stared at him again for long seconds. Porthos began to worry that he'd shared too much and Aramis would be disappointed in him.
“I don't deserve you, Porthos,” Aramis whispered.
“I 'ain't having this argument again. You've got me for as long as you want me,” Porthos said firmly.
“Dios. I love you,” Aramis whispered.