#aramance

 Despite the dryness of her tone she couldn’t help but look back at Aramis with a little bit of worry. The sulkiness wasn’t like him, this despondent bantering was hardly something enjoyable and though she was loathe to admit it she missed the flirting.

 “Besides,” She continued, drying her hands and taking a seat at the small table next to him. “You seem in one piece, I haven’t had to stitch any of you lot up for the past month. It’s been a welcome change no bleeding men coming into my house at all hours of the night.”

 Aramis’ smile was small but harkened back to the man she remembered before this fit of despair had come over him. “So if we weren’t bleeding we would be welcome at all hours of the night? I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

 She rolled her eyes but hid a smile behind her hand. “Since you insist on coming in as you please I apparently have no say anyway.”

 Aramis tilted his head at her, his hat nearly falling off. “Would you prefer I leave?”

 Constance raised an eyebrow. That was a first; though she’d never really said it out loud she had always assumed Aramis knew he was in fact welcome any time. Perhaps it was time to bring their fronts down just a little if only to bring him out of the mood he appeared to be in.

 She met his eyes as she said, “You can stay. Any time you need it.”

 He held her gaze a moment before he began to smile wildly. “I’m afraid you’ll never get rid of me now, Constance.”

 She barely held back from rolling her eyes again. “A hardship. Now are you staying for supper?” Her husband certainly wouldn’t be joining her and d’Artagnan was throwing himself into training. It’d been lonely in the house as of late, a loneliness she was used to but never enjoyed.

 He winked at her, “Depends what you were intending on having for a meal.”

 The innuendo wasn’t lost on her, much like most of Aramis’ weren’t.

 “I take it back, get out.”

 There was that pout again and she bit her lip this time to not break out into laughter.

 “Such hospitality.” Aramis sighed but this time it wasn’t heavy with whatever had been bothering him.

 “Oh hush.” She stood up, “And if you’re going to stay you can help me.”

 Aramis made a face but didn’t argue as she walked towards the dough she’d set out to make bread earlier. In fact he stood next to her telling stories of the boys latest exploits and getting dough in his beard as he tried to do some twirling motion with his hands and knead the bread at the same time.

 She didn’t point it out this time. Amusing herself by seeing it every time she looked over at him instead.

 ~~

 Aramis showed up again the next day and while he was sighing a little less there was still a gloominess around him that had Constance half tempted to shove him into a water trough to see if that would get rid of it.

 “Monsieur Treville has no missions for you to take on then?” Constance asked, trying to keep her voice light. She was curious but after yesterday didn’t want to insinuate that Aramis wasn’t welcome, it was nice seeing him so often. d’Artagnan had opted to stay at the garrison after a night of drinking; only coming in briefly to change clothes before he was back out again.

 “The King has decided we are needed at home for a time.” Aramis didn’t make a face but Constance could tell he was tempted to. “The Musketeers are to show a shining example of what his Majesty’s forces are like.”

 Constance made a show of eyeing him before she smirked. “Drunken idiots?” She guessed.

 Aramis placed a hand over his heart, that pout firmly in place once more. “I’m wounded Constance.”

 “Not yet you aren’t.” Constance muttered, “The days still young though, I suspect you have other ladies houses to visit.”

 “And deprive you of my company?” Aramis stroked at his beard, “Why Constance, I could never.”

 She hummed idly in her response, hanging up another sheet to dry in the wind. The sun hadn’t reached midday levels of heat yet but a warm breeze blew through her yard and freed some of her curls from where she had tried to pin them up earlier. Before she could go to tuck them back however with her hands full as they were nimble fingers reached up for her and Aramis slipped them back in place. She nearly jolted at the touch and it occurred to her just then that she hadn’t been touched that gently in quite some time.

 Whatever interest d’Artagnan had shown in her seem to fall by the wayside, the training sessions they had set up had stuttered and then stopped completely a month ago. Her husband certainly had never had such a kindness with her and the thought of leaving him again tempted her; only the knowledge of her station in life gave her pause.

 She let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding, looking over at Aramis with a tight smile of thanks. She paused however when she saw how he was regarding her, with soft eyes and his hand still hanging in midair, like he was tempted to reach out again.

 He cleared his throat, dropping his hand to his side.

 Her mind scrambled to say something, trying desperately to break the awkwardness between them then. If it got too long would he leave?

 “Teach me how to fight.” She blurted out, her face flushing in both embarrassment and annoyance at that embarrassment.

 Aramis raised an eyebrow, “I’ve seen you fight, you don’t need my guidance.”

 Constance didn’t bother to restrain her smug smile at that, thinking back to before when she’d had to hold off a man while Aramis held a baby. “I could always stand to learn more.”

 “I thought that d’Artagnan was teaching you.” Aramis sounded casual, a little too casual.

 “He’s…been busy.” Constance admitted, feeling foolish now that she had to say it out loud.

 “Porthos and Athos have taken to his training with gusto now that we’re trapped in the city.” Aramis said after a moment of silence.

 “But you haven’t?”

 He shrugged, still trying to appear far more nonchalant than Constance suspected he was, “My services haven’t been needed. A pity really, I have much I could teach.”

 That explained the sulking then, Aramis was feeling cast out. She felt a little pathetic to be glad of it if it meant his company.

 “Prove it then.” She said in reply, putting up the last of the sheets and turning to him. “If you’ve the courage to.” She kept it slightly challenging and was rewarded with Aramis’ slow smile.

 “Oh Constance,” Aramis leaned in a little. “The things I could show you.”

 “Is this how you charm all ladies into your bed?” Constance asked, her voice wry.

 Aramis’ smile faltered, a brief thing and Constance felt at a loss from it suddenly. “I’m afraid my intentions are rather singular these days.”

 “I’ll believe it when I see it.” She snorted in derision but regretted it when Aramis’ smile fell further. “So?” She asked, holding her hand out and trying to change the subject. “Do we have a deal.”

 Aramis took her hand- she felt a brief pang of regret that it was gloved and chided herself for such a thought- and shook it once briskly. “I’ll find you at sunrise tomorrow.”

 She bit her tongue so she didn’t make a comment that she was certain he’d only be up so early because some husband would be rushing him out of a lady’s bed. After her last comment she was reluctant to bring it up despite that Aramis himself had always taken pride it previously.

 “I’ll be here.” She hadn’t meant to sound slightly bitter when she said that but this house felt like a chain on her these days. Without the adventures the others dragged her into she hardly seemed to stray from it and her husband certainly didn’t want her to. She pushed all thoughts of Jacques from her mind, he certainly wasn’t thinking of her wherever he was.

 “Constance…” Aramis said, quiet and hesitant.

 “Don’t.” She cut him off before he could say anything further.

 Aramis studied her for a moment longer but she refused to meet his eyes this time. “You know we have your back Constance.” He finally said, “I realize things are delicate but should you need us…”

 She gave him a jerky nod of her head, feeling close to tears. “I’ll figure something out.”

 “You don’t have to alone however.” His hand fell on her shoulder, drawing her in closer to some sort of hug. “Should you need us,” He repeated, this time far too close and she could see the genuine sincerity in his eyes. “I – we, will be here.”

 She didn’t trust herself to say anything to that, swallowing hard at the tightness that was suddenly in her throat. She let out a shaky breath, leaning in just a little to his warmth and trying to pull herself together.

 “I’ll hold you to that.” She eventually found the strength to say.

 When they parted it was only because of the footsteps walking past her courtyard and Constance flushed at the knowledge of how they looked like lovers in that moment.

 Even worse was how she wouldn’t have minded it.

 ~~

 “It’s an extension of yourself.” Aramis was saying the next morning as he tossed her a spare sword he had brought. “Hold it as you would a lover.”

 Constance rolled her eyes at the leer, “This explains why you’re so attached to yours.”

 “I did let you take hold of my sword.” Aramis said, the delight and second meaning not lost on her. She gave him a blank stare in return, refusing to take the bait least she end up slapping him again.

 Aramis looked disappointed before he began to launch into a spiel about footwork and how to hold yourself. His lecture was significantly longer and more in depth than d’Artagnan’s who fought more with his gut and instinct then with a strategy in mind. Both were things she had to learn however and she knew it, grateful to have that already instilled in her.

 The chores she was supposed to be doing would have to be rushed when she returned, the sun wasn’t at midday yet but would reach it soon enough and reluctantly she went to hand Aramis back the sword.

 “Giving up so soon?” Aramis asked, taking the sword with a frown.

 “I’ve work to do. We can’t all layabout during the day.” She nudged him in the shoulder to take some of the sting out of her words.

 “I suppose not.” Aramis agreed easily. “Though I do so enjoy it, with the right company of course.”

 “I thought your interests were singular these days.” She couldn’t deny her curiosity at who would have garnered Aramis’ attention in such a manner.

 “I’ll accompany you home. Only fair I help with some chores since I’ve taken all your time this morning.” Aramis said, dodging her question and making her scowl.

 “How generous.” She was surprised to find she actually meant it instead of just sarcastically. The help would be appreciated, it wasn’t offered often enough.

 “I am nothing if not generous in all aspects of what I offer.” Aramis was grinning again and Constance refused to find it charming even as she felt herself answering with a smile of her own.

 “And what are you off-” She stopped herself before she could finish that, the flirtation dying in her throat and her flush could thankfully be excused as coming from their training.

 Next to her Aramis was quiet, far too quiet for her liking, and she snuck a glance over at him. She had expected him to jump on her slight faux paus; he certainly had in the past. Instead he was staring straight ahead; his hand which had been brushing against hers as they walked had drawn back in to rest at his belt.

 With his gaze not on her she gave herself time to look at him, there was no denying that Aramis was handsome. He kept himself well-groomed and knew his looks were often a selling point for his amorous interests. His hair was hidden by his hat mostly but she could see some of the wavy locks sneaking out from under it, looking as soft as ever. Her hand twitched at her side in memory of yesterday, what would Aramis do if she tried to return the favour with his own hair? Or is she just reached up to cup his chin and –

 If she kept with that line of thought no amount of exercise would excuse her flush.

 The silence hung over them, feeling stifling in a way Constance hated. She had enough of that silence in the house when she was alone. She wanted to go back to how they were, with affection and delight in an equal competitor between their words.

 “Aramis.” She began as they reached her courtyard. She opened her mouth to tell him it was fine if he left, truly she’d be fine, but a sudden spike of jealousy kept her mouth shut. If he left maybe he’d find this singular interest and if Aramis was serious, as he did curiously seem to be, then that person would take his time.

 She fought the jealousy down, Aramis wasn’t hers, she had no claim on his time and person. She was being selfish wanting this to continue.  

 “Constance.” Aramis replied, his lips quirking up just a little on the side that betrayed his new found amusement. “I believe I’m owed you some help.”

 She kept her sigh of relief internal, “You’re decent with stitching.” She remarked breezily, “I’ve bedsheets that need it.”

 “d’Artagnan?” Aramis guessed.

 “d’Artagnan.” She agreed, not without some fondness. Though their courtship had fallen apart that didn’t mean she saw him as any less of a friend. And he had been the one to draw her into these adventures that she dearly did enjoy, not that she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

 “Ah.” Aramis raised a hand to smooth down his moustache but Constance caught the frown before he could cover it up with the gesture. “And how are things between you are our young Gascony resident?”

 Constance narrowed her eyes, suddenly feeling suspicious. “They’re fine. Not that it’s any business of yours.”

 If she hadn’t been watching him she might have missed the sudden tightness around Aramis’ eyes that fled a moment later when he leered at her. “Just fine? Hardly seems he’s doing it right then, not worth the ten sous.”

 The slap rang across the courtyard. Her hand stung and no doubt his cheek did as well. It didn’t hurt as much as her dignity did at that moment however.

 He rested his hand on his cheek, rubbing at it lightly. She could see the moment regret dragged in him under by the way his shoulders fell and his gaze sought her out. “Apologies, Madame Bonacieux. I’ll take my leave.”

 He bowed to her, a perfunctionary manner that made her skin crawl, and walked out of the courtyard.

 For such an oppressively hot summer day it certainly felt cold to her.

 ~~

 When she woke up the next day it was to silence. Without the excuse of training she didn’t have to be up so early or rush through her chores in the afternoon. She considered staying in bed, it wasn’t like anyone was waiting for her.

 “Enough of this.” She grumbled to herself, tired of the self-pity. She’d lived with this before d’Artagnan and the others entered her life, she could live with it again. Perhaps she’d branch out, look for new opportunities herself. Word was the Queen was looking for a new maidservant.

 With a sigh she dragged herself out of bed, taking her time to get ready. The sun hadn’t even risen yet, making her rely on her memory of her house as she walked through it. Her muscles ached from the training the day before and idly she wondered where she could find a sword to continue practicing. If no one was going to stay around to show her then she’d do it herself.

 She glanced out in the courtyard when she reached the ground floor and nearly jumped in her surprise at seeing someone standing at the gates. She squinted into the dark and opened the door cautiously, wrapping her shawl tighter around her to block the morning chill.

 At the noise the stranger looked up and she relaxed, recognizing Porthos, and then sighed. The was a chance he was here only because Aramis was too afraid to face her – or hadn’t felt she was worth it anyway.

 “I didn’t think you knew what mornings were.” She called out, opening the door wider to offer to let him in. Porthos nodded at her with a grunt as he walked in, taking his hat off to hold it in front of him apologetically.

 “Aramis is an idiot.” He began without any preamble and Constance couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. “We all are.”

 “To put it mildly.”

 “He’s hungover right now. Joined Athos in that regard.”

 “I’m surprised you aren’t with them.”

 “Someone had to take them home.” Porthos shrugged. “We’ve been busy.”

 “I’ve heard. d’Artagnan hasn’t shown up here much, any day I’m expecting to lose a tenant.” She sighed, thinking of the expense but that was the reality of things. d’Artagnan would one day move into the garrison.

 Porthos shifted on his feet and cleared his throat, a sign of awkwardness, and then said, “Aramis hasn’t felt he’s been needed.” There was a pause before he added. “Word is neither have you.”

 She was silent, if she spoke she knew all the hurt she’d been feeling would come out.

 “I heard him last night.” Porthos continued. “Says he thought you could use the company because he certainly could. Didn’t think it was right to leave you to deal with things alone when you’re one of us. He’s not wrong.”

 Her eyes felt too wet; she blamed it on the humidity in the air, nothing more.

 “But he’s also been sighing a lot. Seems in love.”

 There was a tightness in her throat that hadn’t been there a minute ago.

 “He’s free to spend time with them then.” Constance forced herself to say, it came out jagged however.

 “Might be he is.” Porthos said and clapped her on the shoulder. With a tight smile he left her, walking out of her home and leaving her to her thoughts.

 They swirled in her head, the last few days playing over in her mind with new information.

 Jealousy.

 Now she could recognize it for what it was on both their parts.

 A noise made her turn around and she blinked in surprise to see Aramis there.

 “I brought breakfast.” He said, hesitant like he was all those days ago. Like he felt she was going to send him away. It would serve him right for his comment yesterday. “And an apology. You deserve one. And you can always slap me again.” That was said with a slight smile, both a joke and serious offer and Constance had never realized how well the epitomized Aramis’ being.

 “You’d deserve it.”

 “I would. I am truly sorry, Madame Bonacieux.”

 “Constance.” She glanced over at him and gave a shy smile. “I like it better when you call me Constance.” She took a deep breath. “Though I’m not sure you’re entirely forgiven. I suppose I’d have to hear it a few more times.”

 Aramis’ smile was slow but steady, “I’ll endeavor to make my appearance more to do so.”

 “I truly am stuck with you.” There was a fondness in her voice now that she hadn’t let leech in before and couldn’t stop.

 “A travesty.” Aramis agreed in mock sincerity. He laid out what he had brought on the table, meat and cheese turnovers and apples for breakfast.

 She couldn’t remember anyone ever bringing her a meal before.

 “Shall we?” He asked, motioning to the table.

 “Aramis.” She started before she sat down, clutching at the wood of the chair. “There is nothing between d’Artagnan and I. Not anymore.”

 She caught the relief in his eyes, sudden and bright, before it faded with a softer smile.

 “He doesn’t know what he’s lost then.” Aramis said and held her gaze.

 Her throat felt tight again for a whole new reason then and Constance took a seat.

 ~~

 True to his word Aramis came by with apologies again and kept up with showing her how to use a sword. They didn’t talk about the fight again.

 They also hadn’t mentioned anything else they might have been feeling.

 “Gentle, Constance, gentle.” Aramis was telling her as he handed her his gun that day.

 “Let me guess, hold it as I would a lover?” She retorted.

 “Depends on the lover.” His smirk wasn’t missed and Constance snorted in her amusement.

 “I wouldn’t know.” She sighed. “It’s been so long.”

 Next to her Aramis was quiet again, that quiet that didn’t seem right. She told herself not to but couldn’t help but look over to see him staring at her softly. It was too much, that gaze on her that had offered promises to other women, that was perhaps offering her something.

 “I don’t need your pity.” Her hackles were up, she fell back on her anger as a default.

 “And you don’t have it.” Aramis said, raising his hands up and giving her a grin that felt empty, vapid in a way that Aramis loved appearing as and made her angrier given that she knew there was more to him. “A shame though, I imagine you have much to give.”

 She huffed, turning away so she didn’t have to think about it, just as she had every time the looks and flirting got too much.

 The musket in her hands was harder to handle than the pistol and Aramis right next to her murmuring instructions in her ear was more distracting than helpful. His moustache kept brushing against her ear and making her stifle a giggle. For all she mocked Aramis about it she couldn’t picture him without it.

 She fired, hitting the target though by a narrow margin, and made a face.

 “Now Constance,” Aramis teased, “You must have some flaws.”

 “And we can’t all be as perfect as you.” She said dryly.

 “I do love the acknowledgement.” Aramis was twirling his moustache again, this time smugly and clearly Constance was spending too much time with him if she could differentiate his moods based on how he did that. “Take heart dear Constance, you’re nearly at my level of perfection.”

 She dropped the musket so she could elbow him in the stomach, not too hardly but enough to make him yelp.

 “If by nearly you mean far above it then I agree.” She said, turning to grin at him.

 “A goddess among women.” Aramis said rubbing at his stomach and pouting rather pathetically. “A cruel unforgiving one.”

 “Someone has to keep you in check.”

 The pout remained and she broke out into laughter, giggling madly at Aramis’ expression. When she looked back up it was to see him staring at her warmly again and her breath caught in her throat.

 “It’s good to hear you laugh more.” Aramis said idly, too casual and showing his hand that he was anything but.

 “I haven’t had much reason to.” She admitted quietly.

 Aramis’ hand brushed by her own, his head bowing so he could rest his forehead against her own. “Someone should give you reason to.”

 Her fingers shook lightly with her nerves as Aramis grasped them.

 “Do not jest with Aramis.” She said, swallowing hard.

 “Never.” He whispered it against her skin, breath fanning her cheek and she tilted her head slightly in invitation.

 There wasn’t any hesitation when he kissed her with such passion it stole the breath from her lungs and had her pulling back to gasp. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and reached up to kiss him again, her head getting dizzy with the lack of air but she didn’t care either way.

 “Your intentions are singular.” She demanded rather than said as she pulled away again, staring up at him.

 “Constance,” His voice stuttered on her name, full of emotion and she let herself bask in it. “You are rather captivating.” There was his usual flirtatious voice and he followed it by ducking down to press a kiss at the corner of her jaw and trail downwards with his lips.

 “I better be.” She clutched at the pauldron on his shoulder, her fingers slipping on the hard leather and she cursed under her breath.

 “You have my word Constance.” Aramis pulled back to relay the sincerity of it, his thumb brushing her palm where he held her hand still.

 “I suppose that’s good enough.” Though she had been burned before by the word of a musketeer. She just had to have faith in putting her heart on the line yet again. Her lips curved into a smirk, “You’ll just have to prove it. If you’ve the courage to.”

 The echo of her past challenge wasn’t lost on Aramis as he met it with another breath stealing kiss. “The things I can show you.” He said, lips at her throat again and her pulse fluttered beneath them.

 “Then show me already.”

 Her chores never got done that day.