rainjoyswriting: (kurt!)
[personal profile] rainjoyswriting
Scribbled in an hour because my brain is a squirrel and this is all I can cope with right now, Five Incidents From the Year Before Athos, Musketeers short, affinityverse (best catalogued in my memories) <3

Disclaimer: I can't even force my way through the piddling plot this thing has, no-one would *employ* me to write anything, believe me. Not mine.

Rating: R, swearing and Aramis.

Warnings and spoilers: The main list's on part one, read sensibly.

Summary: Does what it says on the tin.


Note: This is kind of cheating, there's a shittonne of plot to get through before Athos. Sorry for constantly waving the possibility and denying it again, believe me, no-one regrets this situation more than me ^^;






Porthos says, "Who the fuck is Athos?"

Aramis blinks, hanging low over the pool float, Porthos' voice a very sudden wakening from the drowsy water's patting at the sides of the pool. "¿Qué?"

"Athos," Porthos says, sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water, leaned back on his hands and watching him. "You keep saying 'Athos'. Been doin' it a while now."

He's too tired to care about it. Episodes for days and days; Porthos brought him to the pool, because he is better in the water, just to get a clear head for a while. "I have no idea." He settles his cheek back to the pool float, closes his eyes again. "Isn't that a mountain?"

"You keep sayin' it like it's a person."

Aramis murmurs, too exhausted to mind, "Well, one day we'll know."

Porthos kicks a foot in the water. "You hungry yet?"

"No."

"You're gonna eat soon."

"This is a fact?"

"Too fuckin' right it's a fact."

Aramis keeps his eyes closed, and questions his mind - currently ever on the cusp of then-more-than-now - and knows that Porthos will indeed bully him into eating something soon. Well, the nausea's better now he's in the water. Perhaps he will indulge him after all.

He says, "I'd like to test how long I can hold my breath underwater with my mouth around your cock."

Porthos doesn't say anything. Aramis holds the pool float, and keeps his eyes closed, and when he hears his body drop into the water with a rush, he smiles.

*

Treville walks in on them in the cafeteria, shrugging in a massive and exaggerated way at each other, passing back and forth, "Bof."

"Bof."

"Bof."

"Bof."


Treville just watches them for a while, waiting for his explanation. Aramis beams at him, says, "We've worked out that this is a vital part of the French language which we have yet to master."

Porthos shrugs, and says, "Bof."

Treville watches them evenly, and thinks about the various ways he could respond, and how they would respond to each of those. Then he just shrugs, and walks out again.

*

Porthos lays on his back on the floor, hands clasped over his stomach, staring at his bedroom ceiling. Aramis is laying with his head on Porthos' thigh, close and comfortable, body rolled so he's looking at Porthos' face, quite far away across the length of him. The music plays, soft as summer breeze, and just as laden with mellow memory.

Aramis lifts a hand and rubs his knuckles off the side of Porthos' leg. "Why do you like this one?"

Porthos contemplates the ceiling, and thinks about what he would say to Flea (It reminds me of my mum.), what he would say to Charon (Because fuck you that's why.). He thinks about discussing how unusual the lyrics are and the dignity in her voice, barely breaking. He thinks about the masterful use of silence, how it's not afraid of the spaces between sounds. He thinks about what the sadness in it makes him feel, and the things he never says out loud because he knows people never look at him and think that he thinks and feels like that.

He says, "'cause it's beautiful."

When he looks down, Aramis is just smiling back up at him, like he approves, almost like he's proud.

Porthos holds his hand out, and Aramis transfers his fingers to that. Hands held on the carpet, eyes on the ceiling, they let the song play out.

*

"Are his humours unbalanced? Must you bleed him?"

"What books have you been reading? Get out of the way."

"Porthos." A hand grips his, and he opens his eyes - they're hot and they ache, but nothing like the lumps of burning metal caught in his throat do - to Aramis, his face very close and eyes very intent and worried. "Ferrand says your tonsils must come out. If you don't want him to then I won't let him."

"You do not get a medical opinion." Ferrand snaps, from somewhere over Aramis' shoulder. "I will have you ejected from this room if you don't -"

"I like Ferrand a lot," Aramis says, and his hand stroking over Porthos' fever-heady brow is cool and dry and makes his eyes close again with how good it is. "But if he tries to cut out part of you that you don't want to lose, I will pistol him for you, Porthos."

"What century are you operating in this time? Mon Dieu, I'm calling Treville."

"S'okay," Porthos rasps, and has to stop because it hurts so much, swallowing hard and difficult and hot. "Feels like - yeah. Bad."

"There'll have to be an anaesthetic," Aramis murmurs. "Athos isn't here to punch you."

Porthos keeps his eyes closed, lets the fever sink him. He doesn't know if it's an episode or just worry that's got Aramis so weird, or if it's his own muddled, muddied head. And, again, always again -

Who the fuck is Athos . . . ?

*

More water comes out of Porthos than he knew he could contain, burning as it comes up through channels it should never have gone down, a bucket of it heaving out of him and onto the sand. He spits and spits afterwards, coughs and wracks with it, bile-warm saltwater and Aramis' hands rub his back, he hums to him and murmurs to him, alright alright alright.

Porthos spits again, and looks across the ruined beach, the snapped palm trees, the coastline cut jagged by water run where it should never have gone with more force than it should ever have held. He pants, coughs, tests his raw throat; "Fuck water affinities."

Aramis tilts his head, eyes closed, half-agreeing, unoffended. "We are more trouble than we're worth."

It still hurts to speak. "Tha's what your rift was like?"

Aramis shakes his head, and his sigh is small, half-contained. "That's what I spent my rift praying it wouldn't be like."

Porthos tries to pick himself up and the sodden sand doesn't want to let him go, his arm comes free with a long sucking drag, his hand pushes deep down into it. "You shot him."

"I had to."

Porthos nods, and his shoulders shake with coughing again, because yeah. He did have to.

Aramis helps him sit, slumped onto his shoulder, Aramis bearing his weight. Strange circle they make; they can just about support each other like this, like half a circle can keep itself up. Aramis' arms are wet around him and cling, cool damp skin against his, his t-shirt plastered to his sides by water, skin a little roughened with sand.

"Got our arses kicked again."

"Nothing broken." Aramis says quietly, and his fingers stroke back through Porthos' hair. "Still here."

They learned long ago to take what small mercies they can. "Treville on his way?"

"Mm."

"At least no-one killed the poor bastard before we got here."

"No," Aramis murmurs. "At least we got to shoot him ourselves."

Which means, Funny fucking business we're stuck in, hm?

Porthos puts an arm around his back, lets his cheek hang on his shoulder, lets his aching breath out slow. Aramis hums, quietly, fingers stroking gentle-gentle through his hair.

On the sand, breakers behind them a hush of shock like they don't believe themselves what they just did, snapped and mangled trees wrenched halfway down the beach ahead of them, they wait.

They wait for Treville. They wait for the next rift. They wait for their future, and whoever the fuck Athos is. They wait, wet and tired and defeated, again.

Nothing broken. Still here.

They prop each other up on the beach, and they wait.

Date: 2014-04-25 11:01 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ohmygodstopit.livejournal.com
Oh my goodness, the 'bof' scene, I'm not sure if I've ever laughed so hard and so long at so few words of anything before, sweet Treville's reaction of just 'nope, not worth it.' I imagine more than a few of their interactions end that way.

The way you manage to fill almost every second of Porthos and Aramis with this constant sense of love is so immense. Their honesty with each other and the way they're so tender and sort of solemnly practical about everything but still just a couple of hyperactive teenage boys who still count fun and trouble making as priorities is so wonderful. And Aramis slipping in casual suggestions of sex into conversation, you surprise no one Aramis, you minx.

And prelude to Athos, I could read tens of thousands of words of prelude to Athos and the 'shittonne of plot' and be beyond satisfied, every little addition to this verse is gold. Very lovely way to start my Saturday morning, thank you <3

Date: 2014-04-26 07:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rainjoyswriting.livejournal.com
The more practice Porthos and Aramis get at finding ways to drive the captain crazy, the more practice he gets at not rising to the little fucks. It's an arms race straight to the bottom ;)

I'm really glad you enjoyed this one honey, for the quick scribble it is =) I do just love their interactions too much, every little moment of eye contact and all their conversations, the adorable bastards. Which is of course very distracting so it may indeed be some time before I can get the plot *moving*, yeah -_-; But until then, at least they can still amuse; yay ^^ Thank you for reading it, honey - thank you! <3

Date: 2014-04-26 07:59 am (UTC)
luthien82: (Default)
From: [personal profile] luthien82
Oh! Is this like just before Aramis met Porthos? Wasn't he sort of living in the past and the future and the present back then as well? So does this mean Athos is close? :) I have a one-tracked mind, I'm sorry. But ATHOS!

And, well, those two are still the most adorable fuckers I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. And I love the quiet love and understanding between them. I just love them a lot, I guess. Also: how adorable was it that Aramis was concerned about Porthos' anesthetic because there was no Athos to punch him out? That was awesome :D

Date: 2014-04-26 07:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rainjoyswriting.livejournal.com
Aramis is very back and forth and better and worse when it comes to the future and the past, so, we'll see ;) I know, though *Athos*, I've been writing like a mad thing today trying to get some big chunk of plot out of the way to haul a bit closer to him . . .

They are adorable fuckers, which is very lucky because they must drive every adult around them *insane*, so it's good for them that they're cute ;) Modern medical technology must in some ways be good for Porthos because hurrah less punching, but on the other hand he doesn't strike me as someone who's happy to have a needle put in him? ^^; Lucky Ferrand has the best worst nurse in the world to help him out . . .

I'm really glad you're still enjoying it, honey - thank you for reading it! Thank you <3

Date: 2014-04-26 09:39 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] niitza.livejournal.com
So we're officially in the BA (Before Athos) era... Can't wait to switch to AA - an acronym which, if Athos is anything like he is in the series or the first book when it comes to his love of the bottle, will be doubly relevant (oh my god, I'm starting to make puns, stop me now, clearly I'm not getting enough sleep...)

I understand why you're tempted to write about these two idiots instead of plowing through plot, it seemes quite tempting. They're just adorable. The way they tackle French (and we do have a large amount of utterly ridiculous small words with no definite meaning but a lot of uses), the music, the way Athos is present if only by his absence... Gah.
Also, water affinities indeed seem to be awful. There aren't many things less comfortable than sitting in wet clothes on a sand beach.

I wish you all the luck and courage to write through the heaps of plot you have in front of you ^^ And thank you for these small pieces you share with us to the side to help us keep our patience <3

Date: 2014-04-26 07:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rainjoyswriting.livejournal.com
Alas poor Athos, we tease because we love you, dear alcoholic puppy <3

When my brain is bad it is just incredibly tempting to write those two being absurdly cute sociopaths together, yeah. They amuse me if nothing else <3 And water affinities clearly are just the *worst*, for so, so many reasons . . . ;)

Thank you for the cheerleading honey, I bit off more than I ought and I will indeed need that luck <3 And thank you for reading it! I'm glad you're still enjoying it - thank you, very much ^^

Date: 2014-04-27 07:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] niitza.livejournal.com
Well, it occurred to me that since the human body is made of at least 60% of water, an out-of-control water affinity (or a water affinity with exquisite control) was indeed able to make things very horrible for you in a very short time. But that's because I have a morbid imagination and have read far too many Franco-Belgian comics as a child...

Date: 2014-04-27 07:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rainjoyswriting.livejournal.com
(That is actually something Aramis and I have been thinking on; it's *amazing* the things that are mostly water, and the exact ways that someone with enough - or nothing like enough - control could very seriously fuck them up . . .)

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