#also i still need more smol ticklish aramis moments in my life

[thorin-is-a-cuddler]

A/N: The movie isn‘t even out yet in my country and my Aramis feels return already with a force. I wrote a self-indulgent little sister drabble. No plot, just fluff. Imagine the Aramis you like best. ☺️ (an ordure is a sort of nuisance in human form ^^)

The level of stealth you were currently demonstrating made you wish to congratulate yourself. Up here, on the small balcony none of the musketeers ever seemed to use, you had found a hiding place of uncompared genius. Here, you could point the harmless old musket of your brother at all the heads of the guards who had sent you funny looks throughout the week. It was a very meditative passe-temps. It also saved you from the tasks random musketeers‘ wives tended to give you, simply because you were a woman passing by, a woman who didn‘t seem like she was occupied enough. But no, thank you, you were not entirely interested in stuffing any stinky socks. No no, you had weapons to clean and secret letters to carry around and a brother to tease. Why didn‘t these men stuff their socks themselves?

You were about to fake head-shot a man named Gerard who was telling nasty jokes by the fountain of the corps, when someone suddenly dropped down on the small space remaining next to you, like a lazy cat who‘d happened to find its way over to you. You hit your nose hard on the cold metal of the heavy weapon in your hand and let out a pain struck groan.

„Whatever did Gerard do to you?“ Your brother asked in his most nonchalant of ways, his left elbow meeting your right one as he settled down, mimicking your position. He was holding an apple in his hand.

You spent a moment grieving the peace and quiet and the integrity of your nose, before you retook your aim, glaring at Gerard over the tip of the musket.

„He‘s an ordure.“

Aramis chuckled, taking a noisy bite from the apple, before offering it to you. You wanted to ignore him to keep from messing up your aim, but the rumbling in your stomach betrayed you. You took the apple from Aramis and peeked a glance in his direction. He was already looking at you with that bemused quizzical look in his eyes, the one that was so individually him that it tended to make you emotional. Therefore, you quickly put on an unbothered expression and avoided his eyes.

„Are you enjoying or hiding yourself up here?“ He asked, putting his chin up on his hand.

„Why are these mutually exclusive choices?“ Your sour mood fit perfectly to the taste of the apple he had handed you. „Maybe I’m brooding… Did you give this apple to me because it tastes like it‘s poisoned?“

„Obviously.“ Aramis responded, smirking when you moved to hit his shoulder with your fist. „I‘m afraid I might be doing you a favor with it.“

The slight concern mixing into his voice made your eyes wander back to his face. His eyes were always gentle and bright when they looked upon you. They made you wish to curl up again his chest to be held and rocked and protected for a while. He was probably here to find out if you were in need of any of that.

You simply extended the apple with a raised brow, a daring look on your face, before looking back at the group of musketeers around Gerard. The aim wasn‘t perfect but you did manage to hit the leadspeaker of the nutbrains against the arm.

Aramis quickly covered his mouth with his hand to hide the snort that threatened to break out when Gerard started turning around himself in an infuriated attempt to find his offenser. You had to chuckle at your brother‘s reaction and soon your conjoined mirth got increasingly harder to suppress. Tears were showing in your brother‘s eyes, from the laughter he tried to silence with his palms and you could feel your own cheeks starting to hurt from smiling widely along to his shaking shoulders. All the while a wild Gerard was running in circles like a little chicken, pulling his rapier and wielding it around.

Aramis bent over and hid his smily face at your shoulder, bursting with quiet laughter when Gerard fell over a chair.

Your fingers held him close by his arm and you realized that you were sad and that you missed him and your feelings crashed inside your chest like a wave against a rock. He was the best brother any young woman could wish for. But he was getting more and more involved in politics and it started to feel like the two of you were drifting apart a little. Missed were the nights you‘d spent drinking and laughing with the three of them - your brother and the chosen brothers. You missed making fun of Aramis with Porthos‘ help, missed the way your brother always managed to get Athos to smile when he wanted it the least, missed seeing him scribble poems on napkins by the light of a candle while Porthos advanced as quietly as possible to steal it from him. You missed the easiness of the less politically active days.

After he‘d managed to calm down, Aramis took a deep breath and put his head against yours. It was the weight of hin that made you feel comforted in a way. You listened to him breathe for a while before wrapping your arms around his neck. As if he was surprised but moved by your sudden affectionate impluse, he cooed gently and put his arm over your back to pull you close. But due to your position being slightly inconvenient, he wasn‘t quite able to physically deal with your need for cuddles, which led to him falling on his back and you tumbling right on top of him.

The mixed emotions in your chest made you break out laughing instantly. Grinning, he looked at you, your fists on his stomach and your chin coming down to his chest. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, his hat making his eyes look like little sparkly lights in the shadow it threw over his face. You couldn‘t stop laughing - he wouldn‘t allow it anyway, riling you on with his cheeky smirk - so you threateningly held up your finger in his face. He raised a brow and made you laugh even more with the funny faces he pulled.

„Stop it!!“ You wheezed.

He gasped. „I‘m not even doing anything!“

With a yelp he jolted when you dug your fingers in his sides, but he quickly got a hold of your wrists. Chuckling softly he managed to prevent any further tickle attacks from your part, wrestling with your weak attempts of breaking out of his hold. Your laughter was making you weak - under any other circumstances, you would have obviously won against him.

Eventually you got too weak for wrestling and for laughing and you merely lay down, your cheek on his chest. He was a lovely person so he started rubbing your back which was so calming you could have easily fallen asleep. Instead, you started moving, inching up higher until your head was on his shoulder, his arm holding you close.

„Bonjour,“ he welcomed you, making you smile slightly, „how about you tell your big brother how you‘re doing now?“

You shook your head gently and closed your eyes, feeling the slight breeze of the summer wind on your face and the warm arm of your brother around you.

„Right now, I am perfectly fine.“

You could feel the muscles under your ear tense hesitantly, but he seemed to accept your silence nontheless, for now, indulging you with the quiet of the afternoon, merely broken by a few musketeers‘ voices from the courtyard.

For a few minutes, the politics of France didn‘t play any part in your life. And you could sense that your brother was just as pleased with that as you were.