Greetings! This is my new holiday AU. I hope you enjoy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Musketeers or its characters.

Two Weeks In Paradise.

Chapter One.

To say that it was hot would be an understatement but after the amount of British sun; Ibiza was practically Paradise.

"Jeez, it's hot! Is the air con even on?"

"I don't know, Porthos, why don't you ask the driver?"

"Can we not start this holiday off with an argument, please?"

"I wonder if he knows he's only blasting hot air into an already hot, confined space?"

"We're only on this bus for ten more minutes. Let's not talk of the heat"

Porthos, Athos, Constance, D'Artagnan and Aramis: five friends who had escaped to Portinatx for a well deserved break from their busy and semi stressful lives back in London. Each friend was different but that's what made them a fiercely tight group.

Aramis was a ruggedly handsome romantic who wrote for London's Time Out magazine. He was not the chief by any definition but he got to write and that was what mattered to him. He was a sucker for Neil Diamond, had dark, unruly hair and olive skin; his mother had been Spanish before she had died when he was fifteen. Aramis also had a very colourful dating history. He was charming and irresistible and had been recently branded as a "womaniser" by an individual who will remain nameless (Constance).

Athos; intellectual, moody and renounced posh boy who'd rejected his father's hand outs and worked incredibly hard to open his own prestigious wine shop and club, which had been recently featured within Aramis' column in Time Out. A total rebel and disguised badass who was yet respective of speed limits and yellow lined parking zones. Dating life: nonexistent.

D'Artagnan was the youngest of the five of them, which he was always teased about, even if it was only by two years. He also had olive skin; his great grandparents had been from the Gascony. His hair was wonderfully dark but cut shorter than Aramis' and the younger man had a leaner body build. He was sweet and determined and passionate. A lowly farm boy; moved to the big city. If you asked him to name the song that best described him he'd probably say 'Bat Out Of Hell' by Meatloaf but really he knows he'd be 'Daydream Believer' by The Monkees. His passion was cooking, especially when it was alongside the love of his life. Relationship status: one half of Constagnan.

Three words to describe Constance: Feisty, strong, maternal. Born and raised a Londoner, she oozed opinions and had real gumption. Named after her grandmother, Constance was the eldest of four children. Growing up with three younger brothers and two full time working parents had proved challenging for her, hellish, if you will. But Constance grew to be independent, caring and bright. Her passion was baking, especially when she was with D'Artagnan (who was also her passion). Relationship status: second half of Constagnan.

A lover and a fighter, Porthos was a football fanatic, boxer and professional personal trainer. He enjoyed laughing, adrenaline filled sports and food (a perk in being friends with D'Artagnan and Constance). Porthos could look intimidating if he wanted to but he was really all fluff, enjoyed a joke and had the biggest heart. His mother had been from Africa and died when he was a young boy, of which time his father was long gone, having abandoned them both. Porthos grew up in the suburbs with his grandmother and secretly loved bingo and knitting.

Their hotel was called Hotel Paraíso and had been spoken of in glowing terms by the travel agent back in London. It had white tiled flooring and smelt of lavender. Constance's grip on D'Artagnan's hand tightened when she saw the entrance to the hotel spa.

Pure Paradise.

D'Artagnan and Athos were instructed to wait with the bags while Constance and Aramis checked them in and Porthos went to gather some leaflets about the island from the gift shop.

It felt so good to walk around in shorts and a t-shirt; you are hardly ever able to do that in England where you have two hot days a year. They were going to savour every second of their two weeks in famously sunny Spain.

Aramis let his eyes wonder as Constance took charge of checking them in. There were going to be a lot of beautiful women here, he delighted in musing, all shapes and sizes.

Aramis loved to love.

Tuning back into Constance's conversation, Aramis was a little alarmed at the distressed tone in her voice.

"We've paid for a sea view" she informed the man at the desk, who looked like he was going to fall off his chair if he shrunk back anymore. Aramis moved closer to Constance in support of her rant.

"I understand, miss, but there was some confusion-"

"Confusion is not good enough" she told him sternly. "Where is the manager? I would like to issue a complaint".

Constance turned her head to Aramis and he nodded in agreement of the outrage of the situation.

As Constance continued on her voyage of persistence, a woman with fiery red hair, brushed Aramis' side, stopping next to him.

"Can I order champagne up to room three nine two, please" she requested to the second desk attendant, the one who'd been lucky enough to avoid Constance's wrath.

The lady was American, Aramis could tell from her accent. He couldn't place where in America she was from but it was intriguing. He could smell her perfume as she stood so close to him. It was sickeningly fruity and Aramis found it bombarding and over applied.

Before leaving, the woman addressed him directly, leaning in closer. "Just so you know where I am"

Her voice was seductive and the implication was obvious. Aramis supposed he must have looked rather surprised because she flashed him a devilish grin and winked. He watched as she swaggered away, swinging her hips and fanning herself with her room service menu.

Swallowing hard, Aramis turned at the sound of Constance's voice. "Honestly, Aramis." She sighed in exasperation, "You really are a womaniser to the core".

Aramis couldn't help chuckling at the sternness in her posture since he actually hadn't done anything to provoke the woman with fiery red hair. Absolutely nothing at all. And honestly, he'd already forgotten her room number and disregarded her implication since he was not interested.

He preferred a challenge.

"Did you get our sea view back?" He asked Constance, knowing the answer already.

She smiled in satisfaction and proudly held out five room key cards as if they were Olympic prizes. "Of course I did."

Aramis grinned and draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close as they started back towards their friends.

Aramis and Constance had a brother, sister relationship. They would bicker and tease each other but the love was there and they were both honest to a fault when addressing the other. They'd been practically related since the day D'Artagnan had brought her home to meet them, three years ago. And although Aramis would admit that Constance was attractive, their sibling equivalent status enabled him to know for sure that she was one of the few women in the world who he would never ever want to sleep with. Not even if they were the last humans on the planet and had to repopulate the earth. She was right up there with his very elderly and dear grandmother. Frankly, the thought repulsed him, and he knew Constance felt the same way.

Their rooms were conjoining, with D'Artagnan and Constance in one and Athos, Porthos and Aramis in the other, joined together by a door. They'd got their sea view, thanks to Constance and it was spectacular. They all lined along the wall of the balcony, also joined, to gaze at it.

The sheets were white and clean and smelled of lemons and the first thing Constance did when she got into her room was star fish on the double bed to make a satisfying duvet angel.

The bathrooms were pleasingly clean and had those little bars and bottles of hotel soaps and shampoos. Constance seemed to be the only one genuinely excited about that luxury too.

Emerging into the outdoor pool area in their swimming attire and equipped with inflatable floats and balls, they found that the place was already rather full and it was barely half past ten. A stroke of luck hit them though and they managed to get three sun loungers together.

Constance and D'Artagnan sat side by side on one so that D'Artagnan could rub sun cream into her back, Athos took the second and Porthos bagged the third. Being the odd one out, Aramis was sent to the bar to get everyone a drink of something fruity and alcoholic.

Ordering five mimosas, Aramis leant against the counter and adjusted his sunglasses; basking in the glorious heat. After paying, he was left with the dilemma of how to transport them all without spilling them. It proved to be a very difficult thing just to pick them up and Aramis feared the worst for their precious beverages.

"Here" a soft voice spoke as he struggled. Two smaller hands reached for two of the glasses.

Aramis chuckled, gratitude clear in his voice as he thanked his saviour. His smile faded slightly as he looked up into the face of the woman who'd helped him. She had natural blonde hair, was slight in size and wore a midnight blue coloured bikini. Her eyes were stunningly blue and it stole him of breath. Beautiful.

Aramis found her very attractive.

The woman smiled back at him and Aramis had to remind himself that staring was incredibly rude. He cleared his throat and led her over to where his friends were relaxing.

When they reached them, he was greeted with a chorus of cheers and hoots as Aramis handed around the drinks. Turning back to the woman, she smiled, somewhat shyly back.

"Now, you must let me buy my saviour one" he insisted charmingly, "you saved me from an almost embarrassing and possibly tragic incident of wasted, good alcohol."

The woman chuckled and shook her head, "That isn't necessary, it was no trouble" she told him with a smile, "I must go or I'll lose my lounger".

Waving goodbye, Aramis watched her as she walked away. He tried to follow her with his eyes to see where she was sitting but the sun made him squint and he lost her in the crowd. He sat down next to Athos and scanned the crowd again.

"Aramis" Constance warned and he turned to her innocently. "Didn't you see the engagement ring on her finger? She's probably here with her fiancé."

He heard Porthos chuckle and Aramis shot him a look. "We've been here a little over an hour and you're already starting trouble." Porthos checked his watch "Who had their bet on quarter to eleven?" They all chucked.

Aramis did not.

He felt a little bit devastated, actually. Engaged. Something about that woman had taken his breath away and that didn't happen very often for him, not properly anyway.

Aramis sipped his mimosa and kept his mouth shut.

Thanks for reading chapter one! There will be regular chapter updates because I know how annoying it is to read unfinished fanfictions. Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts. Much Love to you, from someone who'd rather be sipping Iced Tea On A Yacht Somewhere