Chapter Text
d'Artagnan let out a long keening whine and Athos contemplated slamming his head against the wall.
Repetitively.
"Aww, Athos!" Porthos smirked, mimicking d'Artagnan's tone and causing the lad to giggle. "C'mon, we're only going to the market, Charlie can come along!"
Athos shot a steely glare at the larger man and gave in.
"Fine!" He gasped, throwing his hands in the air before swiping at the nearest wine bottle. "Be back within an hour!'
d'Artagnan all but flew of his chair, letting out a whoop of triumph and half dragging Porthos out the door.
Athos rolled his shoulders once more and watched as Porthos' smug expression disappeared behind the door frame before taking a deep swing of bitter wine.
What had he done?
***
Porthos grinned as d'Artagnan's babbling ceased when they passed the pastry stall.
"Ya want some?" He asked, crouching beside d'Artagnan and pointing toward the stall.
Big, excited brown eyes locked with his and Porthos' hand flew towards his purse instantly.
"Òc, vos pregui." d'Artagnan smiled hopefully.
It was as d'Artagnan munched on a fresh croissant that his eyes locked on a familiar figure.
As Porthos finished up at the final stall he pocketed another croissant for his little brother and turned back to where he'd been sat.
Only he wasn't.
Porthos' heart lurched into his throat.
Where was he?!
Swallowing thickly Porthos stumbled past the stalls, praying the boy hadn't strayed far.
Clearly he had.
Picking up the pace, Porthos began shoving people out of his path, his eyes searching over every crater and corner of the square as he began calling for the boy.
There was no response.
Meanwhile, d'Artagnan continued to race after his father, feet scuffling and dragging against the cobbles as he darted after the man.
Grinding to a halt, he almost slammed into the man.
Smiling like a cheshire cat, the boy tugged at his others doublet, readying himself to jump into the man's arms.
Only, when the man turned around, it wasn't his father.
He was a stranger.
Stumbling backwards blindly, d'Artagnan crashed against one of the old soup stalls, coming face to face with the furious owner.
Dashing over the fallen table, d'Artagnan leapt for freedom before the old hag could snag his shirt and raced for cover. He'd just about cleaned the site when he sprinted straight into a pair of legs. Peering up in a daze, his eyes fell on yet another recognizable figure.
Aramis.
"Charlie?" The man breathed, perplexed at finding the boy unaccompanied and clearly distressed.
"'Mis!" The boy cried, his voice wavering slightly.
Noticing his discomfort, the Spaniard scooped up the boy and held him tightly. He listened silently as the lad continued snuffling nonsense into his collar. Some of the words he was able to decipher, merely because of the closeness between Occitan and Spanish.
The sharpshooter sighed as the realization if the situation dawned on him."Oh, Charlie."
The boy answered with a choked sob.
"Its okay...let's find Porthos, eh?" He said softly. "Bet he's running round like a headless chicken looking for you!"
d'Artagnan nodded with a stiff laugh and held to the man even more tightly as they waddled through the swaying crowds.
When they finally came across Porthos, the man was preparing to hold full blow inquires into who had seen d'Artagnan last.
Once the larger man's eyes settled on the pair, he dropped the man he'd been holding by his collar, and came barreling towards them.
Having prepared himself to be told of, d'Artagnan was more than a little shocked when he was ripped from Aramis' arms and squeezed tightly to the man's chest, with the one breathless warning of: "Don't ever do that again."
Charlie nodded.
"Ne'u ditz pas Athos." He told them quietly and the two laughed, resulting in him being squashed even harder against Porthos.
He didn't mind really.
***
Òc, vos pregui. = Yes, please.
Ne'u ditz pas Athos = Don't tell Athos.