Yes, I have started a new fic. This is my first venture in the Musketeers fandom. Hopefully I can keep it going for a while with regular-ish updates.

I do not, nor will I ever own the musketeers.

d'Artagnan was getting sick of being unable to train, or ride, or simply get out of bed.

"It's your own fault," said Athos. He had his arms crossed and was leaning against the wall in d'Artagnan's room at the garrison. "You shouldn't have tried to climb to the top of that tree."

"Aramis bet me I couldn't do it," said d'Artagnan childishly.

"In the middle of a thunder storm."

d'Artagnan looked at the cast on his broken leg. "It seemed like a good idea."

"Sure it did."

The door opened and entered Porthos carrying a jar of something light brown.

"d'Artagnan, I've got new and amazing for you," the large musketeer handed the injured man the jar.

"What is it?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Taste it."

"What? No! It looks disgusting!"

"Just taste it!"

"It does look pretty disgusting," said Athos.

Porthos glared it him. "Look, d'Artagnan, I'm not gonna leave you alone until you taste it."

"Fine! What is it?" d'Artagnan gave in.

Porthos smiled. "Peanut butter."

"Peanut butter?" said Athos. "What kind of nonsense is that?"

"It's butter made out of peanuts you moron. Eat it d'Artagnan."

d'Artagnan reluctantly stuck his finger in the jar, scooped out some of the brown goop, and ate it. His eyes grew wide at the glorious taste.

And he was forever in debt to Porthos.

Feel free to send me injuries for the musketeers, or ways to make them feel better. :)