Athos stares up at the dark sky littered with grey clouds which showers glittering drops of water onto the Earth. With arms resting on his knees and a bottle of wine in hand, he closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of the rain.

The droplets shower onto Athos' face, some curving its way around his cheekbones while others trail down the bridge of his nose until they both drip off at the edge. The rain takes a similar course on his hands as they trickle off his fingers, dropping down into the puddles forming below in soft splashes while water begins to seep into his hair, causing the wet strands to attach itself to his face. Opening his eyes, he huffs a large sigh before taking a swig from the bottle.

Today's mission didn't go as planned.

They were assigned to collect some wagons of gunpowder for the King. It was meant to be a simple task, one that shouldn't have had any complications, but they didn't anticipate the Spanish catching word of their mission. They were greeted with an ambush once reaching the location of retrieval. Athos had miscalculated the Spaniard's line of attack which resulted in their failure to catch the set-up diversion in time. Due to his careless mistake, they lost a few carriages to the hands of the enemy.

This slip up contributes to the Spanish's advantage against France and it can put Paris in much harm's way if they gather enough gunpowder for an attack. Retrieving the cargo back may be difficult though as the possible area he has in mind as to where the Spanish may have taken the wagon is close to the border between the two countries. They cannot risk storming the place unless they are certain of its location.

They wouldn't be in this predicament if he hadn't failed to lose them in the first place.

The sound of squelching footsteps approaching snaps Athos out of his musing and he reflexively pulls out the musket from his belt, pointing it towards the noise.

Once he gets a glance at the large figure that comes around the corner, he lets his arm drop and rests his head back against the wall.

The orange glow illuminating from the inn window shines onto Porthos as he strides over. The lieutenant didn't fail to notice the look of concern written on his brother's face as he approaches with brows slightly scrunched. Porthos plunks himself down beside him and Athos hands him the bottle of wine. He takes a sip before handing it back.

"How'd you find me?" Athos inquires.

"I knew you'd be drinkin' somewhere, but when I di'n't find you after checkin' your room or the inn's bar, I thought you might be outside," Porthos replies.

Athos raises a brow at him inquisitively. "What made you believe that I'm not in danger?"

Porthos' mouth goes into a tight line. "I still consi'ered it a possibili'y, but your belt was no where in sight which means you 'ave weapons to defend yourself if you're in danger. Had no where else to look for you so outside was the only other option," Porthos explains bluntly. "And here I find you musing in the rain," he adds as he gestures to the weather.

Athos doesn't say anything, his mind still occupied on the mission, creating a stillness between the two. The only sound that breaks the silence is the pitter patter of rain and the wine that sloshes about when he drops the bottle back down after taking occasional sips.

Having been lost in his thoughts, Athos flinches when a weight rests on his shoulder. He cranes his head to Porthos who has a worried look that shows he is not oblivious to what occupies his mind. Athos sighs as he averts his gaze before speaking.

"I miscalculated their strategy..." he starts in a tone of sadness. "We lost the cargo due to my lack of precision in assessment," the words turn into a whisper as his voice falters in the end.

Porthos frowns and gently squeezes his shoulder to relax him. "Oi, it's not your fault," he replies in a gentle tone that comforts him slightly, but isn't enough to convince his protesting mind. Athos doesn't reply, knowing whatever he says will not change Porthos' view.

A tug from the big man pulls him closer to his body. Athos can feel the warmth begin to spread from the point of contact, stopping his trembling form. He hadn't even noticed he was shivering. He blushes and turns his head, hoping the darkness masks the flush on his face. He basks in the comforting cuddle for a while before giving a huge sigh.

"Hey," a hand tucks under his chin and turns his head around. Porthos looks at him sternly as he pushes away the wet strands of hair that hang down his face.

"You couldn't have anticipa'ed their every move. They may 'ave changed tactics half way through after seein' an opportunity," he proposes. "We should be gra'eful 'hat we did i'nt lose anyone. 'hat's what's most impor'ant," he points out reassuringly while patting his arm gently. "But we will get the wagons back," he adds confidently with a strong grin of determination.

Athos remains quiet, turning his attention to the puddles around him while swirling the contents in his bottle.

He still feels chagrin about the whole situation, but Porthos does have a point. At least they didn't lose any men and most were left unscathed. The thought of losing the wagon and his men causes a shudder to run down his spine. If he were responsible for the loss of his comrade's lives due to his misjudgment, he'd spiral into an even deeper state of remorse. He'd rather lose the wagons than his own men or fellow brothers. The cargo can be reacquired, but the lives of his comrades cannot.

The stolen wagon's whereabouts may be unknown, but having an idea of where to look is better than nothing. He just needs to confirm if the location in mind is correct and this time, he won't lack precision and make the same mistake again.

Athos feels his guilt slowly slip away as determination fills its place as a duty to prevent another mishap like this in the future cause next time, he may not be as lucky.

Porthos scrunches his brows as he detects the musing demeanour again and tries to comfort him more.

"Don't blame yourself. You can't get everythin' to work perfectly, Athos. No one is flawless. The world doesn't work 'hat way."

"I know. I am definitely not flawless," Athos states. "But I know someone who is," he concludes while giving Porthos a suggestively raised brow and a cheeky smile.

Porthos booms a laugh as he hears the last part of his sentence.

"Someone's 'ad a little too much to drink," he replies with arched brows, taking the bottle out of Athos' grip.

A small whimper escapes his lips and he reaches over weakly in an attempt to grab it back. He turns his attention back to Porthos after almost planting his face to the ground from leaning too far.

"Seriously though, I mean it," Athos says frankly.

"Oh, so 'm the only person possible in bein' flawless?" Porthos questions playfully with a smug smile.

"Yes," he replies nonchalantly as if it's a matter of fact.

Silence filters into their conversation as nothing is heard except for the drops of rain that splash into the puddles.

Athos stares at Porthos endearingly, taking in all his beautiful features: His rich, black, curly hair that twists and turns in circular rims, creating waves upon waves of a dark ocean on his head which somehow seem unfazed by the wet rain and stay in its usual form. His deep brown eyes that express so much from the heart, ranging from affection to anger. The scar that runs down his left eye which tells its own tale of adventure and hardship. His untrimmed beard that wraps around his soft lips and jaw, making his lower face more accentuated to attention.

This is why Porthos is flawless. All because of these wonderful features along with his heartfelt personality.

Having been lost in his reverie, he just noticed that Porthos is returning the same gaze at him and gradually started to lean forward. Athos reciprocates by doing the same and their lips touch, locking in place as they slowly move in rhythm. His lips are soft and the movements are gentle yet passionate. Athos relishes in the feeling and moans lightly as Porthos' beard scratches against his cheeks with each turn. He moves with just as much care and attention, licking his lips slightly which elicits a small grunt of satisfaction from the man.

Athos wraps his hands around the side of Porthos' head as he, in turn, sweeps his wet bangs up his forehead with one hand and encloses the other around his nape.

Drizzles of rain trace down their faces and roll off the edge of their chins. Drops of water dribble from his messy, long hair as some stray strands stick to his face.

He can feel Porthos smile under his lips before going deeper into the kiss, causing Athos to make a noise of approval and fully immersing himself. He wishes he can savour this moment forever with his lips pressed against Porthos' and melt away from the world of stress and worries. 

It all ends too soon when they reluctantly retract slowly. Porthos pushes his head gently against Athos' and their foreheads meet as they gaze at each other endearingly, heavy breaths leaving their lips.

"You're so beautiful in every way and that is why you're flawless," Athos remarks genuinely, earning himself a small laugh from Porthos that makes his heart flutter.

"You're extremely cheeky tonight, aren't ya?" he responds with a mirthful smirk, planting a kiss on his nose.

"But I'll gladly claim the title if you insist," he adds, giving Athos a wink that may as well have ended him right there.

He pulls him into a hug and the lieutenant buries his face in Porthos' hair, feeling relief and solace being in his embrace. All of today's stress has drowned away with the rain, forgotten and trivial. Tomorrow they will figure out how to regain the cargo, but tonight he wants to stay in Porthos' loving arms. 

"Now how's about we head back inside, hmm?" Porthos suggests as he releases him. Immediately, Athos misses his warmth and a slight whimper escapes, but he quickly complies so he can be back in his strong arms again. Porthos is grinning widely as he takes Athos' hand and pulls him back to his room.

----------

They drip a suspicious trail of water from the entrance of the inn all the way to the quarters. Both of them are chuckling with delight as Porthos drags Athos into the dark room. He lights a candle while Athos' hand is still in his clutches. The lieutenant attempts to close the gap between them to wrap his arms around Porthos' waist when suddenly he spins on his heels, grabs his wrists and pins them against the wall.

Before Athos can register what's happening, soft lips are pushed onto his. A gasp escapes him at the sudden approach and unlike earlier, Porthos' movements are immediately quick and deep, but still just as passionate. He keeps up with him and moves in sync while occasionally nipping at his bottom lip which brings a soft moan from the large musketeer.

He aches to run his fingers through Porthos' curls, to mess up that perfect hair of his. He squirms under Porthos' grasp, trying to wriggle his wrists free, but to no avail as the man's grip is firm, determined to keep them in place. A smile crawls its way onto Porthos' lips at the lieutenant's futile attempt as he responds by moving even closer to him till their chests are almost touching. Athos can feel his cheeks burning up as a blush blooms across his face.

Porthos suddenly breaks free from the kiss and Athos frowns, missing the warm breath against his lips already. Porthos laughs heartily, recognising his disappointment and runs his thumb across Athos' flush cheeks which makes Athos blush even more.

"Let's dry ourselves and shed all this wet clothin' first before movin' to the bed," Porthos declares as he grabs a towel and passes it to him.

Athos reciprocates with an eager nod. He shakes his dripping, wet hair and rubs the towel through roughly before handing it back to Porthos. The large musketeer gives a barking laugh while pointing at his hair as he holds the rag out to him.

He scrunches his brows in confusion and looks up at his disheveled hair which is sticking up in all directions.

"Oh, Athos. You just get prettier and prettier every second, don't ya?" he quips, ruffling his hair into an even bigger mess. Athos glares at him unamused, giving Porthos a well earned punch in the chest while he dries his own hair.

They throw their wet clothing in a heap on the floor and change into dry breeches before sliding in bed together. Porthos immediately latches himself onto Athos, pulling him in so that their chests touch. He smiles at the returning warmth and encircles Porthos' curly hair around his fingers, relishing in their close proximity.

Being with Porthos makes him more relaxed and at ease. Stress often gets the better of him, but the dark-skinned musketeer is his reminder that he needs to let loose of his stress and not strain himself. As someone who always sequesters in the tavern and deals with stress through drinking, he doesn't keep tabs on his mental well-being. Having all his thoughts bottled up, he's accustomed himself to loneliness as it's been easier this way than to interact with others and open up.

Even with his brothers, he didn't share a lot of what's on his mind. He always puts on a neutral expression to avoid any inquiring - and it works. Although, Porthos is the only exception.

The large musketeer has always been able to see through his blank expressions and know when something's bothering him. He's quite observant, having learned the skill from years of living in the Court. At first it annoyed him that Porthos could get past his monotone mask. Athos even avoided him for some time, fearing that he'd ask what's on his mind and have to resort to shunning his brother - but Porthos never inquired. The big man would try his best to comfort him despite not knowing exactly what was bothering him, but he'd never force him to speak his mind.

Initially, Athos didn't enjoy the company as he wanted to stay in his shell of solitude, but over time he found himself liking the occasional companionship. It still wasn't enough to convince his stubborn mind to speak out though. His brother always wanted to help, but Athos just wouldn't let him.

It was only his blooming attraction to Porthos that started to crack his shell of seclusion. He became more vulnerable and the idea of being known more than he wished by others terrified him. Despite his efforts to push the rising affection away, it reached a point where he could not deny it any further. He's fallen in love with Porthos and he became the only person he was comfortable with. This led to expressing his thoughts more willingly, but it still took time.

Now, he's gotten a lot better with it; although sometimes he would still forget that he's not alone anymore. It's a hard habit to break to not instinctively push people away when that's what he's known to do in the past, but Porthos has always stayed by his side even when he did push him away the odd time. The most important aspect that differentiates Porthos from everyone else is that he never gave up on him.

"I can see your mind overworkin' again," Porthos comments, interrupting his thoughts.

"It's not," he denies.

"You know I can always tell," Porthos states frankly.

Athos raises a brow. "For your information, I wasn't musing," he counters. "I was thinking about how great you are."

Porthos laughs in amusement. "Well you should stop your reverie and enjoy this instead," his lips lock with his own as soon as the last words slip out.

Athos grins immediately and flips Porthos onto his back, anchoring his hand on the opposite side of the bed until half his body is hovering over Porthos - all without separating from his lips.

Again, the kiss is fast paced and deep right from the start, filling Athos to the brim with joy. He throughly enjoys their make out sessions as it allows him to enter into a blissful state, ignoring everything else around him and focusing only on Porthos. But they've always taken their relationship slow as he doesn't want to be overwhelmed by having everything move too quickly. Porthos gladly obliges and never goes for more unless Athos wishes to.

Their kisses have mostly been contained, nothing too hectic, but tonight Athos wants more. The urge has been tugging at him since earlier in the night and now he wishes to satisfy that craving.

He licks Porthos' lips, asking him for entry desperately. Porthos notices the change in action, but keeps firm as he slows down, eventually drawing back from his lips. He looks at him silently in question with brows slightly scrunched - not wanting to assume - but Athos nods to confirm his desire for more.

The lieutenant pushes his lips back onto Porthos', licking again for entrance and this time he is welcomed as their tongues clash with each other. A delightful moan grumbles deep in his throat, melting in sensation as Porthos licks into his mouth. He does some exploring of his own and darts around, touching the roof of Porthos' mouth then traveling to the sides which elicits a hum of approval from the man. Their tongues continue to slam into each other, interlacing and licking at spots that he never knew would cause such immense euphoria.

Suddenly, in one swift and effortless move, Athos is hauled on top of the large musketeer by strong arms which eventually snake their way around his waist, bringing his body down into direct contact. A wave of ecstasy flows through him as Athos moans into his mouth and responds by messily running a hand through Porthos' hair. He rejoices in all the sensations that run through him, feeling as if he's landed in utopia.

Their pace starts to even out until eventually Athos retracts to catch his breath, his lips still brushing against his lover's. Porthos beams his usual bright smile as they both pant heavily, the warm air colliding into each other's faces.

"You like it?" Porthos asks as he brushes his fingers through Athos' unkempt hair.

"Very much," he responds, beaming a genuine smile as his breathing calms down.

The experience is exhilarating. He became even more connected with Porthos and it felt so right. He's never been so loved - and in love. To have someone that knows what he wants, who understands him, and will always be by his side. It's something he never knew he desired so much.

He lets out a happy sigh as he adjusts himself and rests his head upwards on Porthos' chest. Porthos pets his mop of hair, dragging the fingers through his messy curls as he intertwines his other hand with Athos' fingers.

"We should do that more often," he announces, tilting his head to Porthos who graces him with a gentle smile.

"Anythin' you want," the large musketeer responds with a heartfelt grin while rubbing his thumb on Athos' cheek. A smile blooms across his face and he turns to kiss his thumb.

"We should head to sleep. It's late," Porthos declares, kissing the top of his head.

The lieutenant nods as he wearily flips himself off of Porthos and snuggles close to him with an arm draping over his body and burying his face in the crook between his shoulder and neck. Porthos grins, turning to give him one last kiss on the forehead before lacing their fingers together again and eventually drifting off.