Athos sat next to d'Artagnan's bed, staring at the young man at such length that the Gascon became uncomfortable. The older man was quiet, still as a statue, and the young man was finding the silence incredibly awkward. Licking his lips, he asked, "Are you alright?"

Athos frowned at the odd question. Of course, he was alright; why wouldn't he be? He'd been on the very safe ground, not gallivanting recklessly along the sloped and slippery rooftops, high above the street. He wasn't the one who'd first tangled with a bear of a man, before being pulled over the edge of a building to land on the hard cobblestones below. What a ridiculous question; of course, he was alright.

"Athos?" d'Artagnan's tone was tremulous as he tried to get the older man's attention. Rather than starting a conversation, his question had caused the former comte to get a faraway, and somewhat haunted, look in his eyes. "Are you alright?" he repeated, hoping that the man would answer this time.

Of course, I'm alright, Athos thought to himself, opening his mouth to voice his declaration out loud. "No, I'm not alright," the older man said in a defeated tone, surprised for a moment by the words which had come out of his mouth, but privately acknowledging that he'd spoken the truth.

d'Artagnan's brow was wrinkled with fresh worry lines, and Athos immediately felt bad for placing his burden on the younger man, especially since the younger man was already in pain. Shaking his head, he tried to refute his earlier statement, silently chastising himself for having blurted out the truth. "I meant to say, I'm fine; you're the one who fought with Bernier and got hurt."

The Gascon narrowed his eyes as he gazed up at the older man, noting the furrowed brow and the weariness that seemed to hang from his shoulders. While Athos might say he was fine, d'Artagnan believed the truth to be quite different. Taking a slightly deeper breath, he ventured a guess. "Were you worried about me?"

Athos' gaze darted away, the older man immediately uncomfortable with the question that had been posed. For a moment, he felt the same panic from earlier surge as he contemplated how to respond. Should he answer that, yes, he'd been just a worried as the other two men, and that his concern was a product of the burgeoning friendship between them? Or should he remain aloof, denying the strong emotions he'd experienced when he'd believed d'Artagnan had fallen to his death, horribly certain that he would find the young man's broken body splayed across the cobblestones?

"Athos," d'Artagnan called softly, the older man's continued silence beginning to scare him.

Clearing his throat, Athos brought himself back to the present, finally deciding on a combination of both sentiments as his response. "Any man in his right mind would be concerned after watching someone fall from such a height." Hurt flashed momentarily across the Gascon's face, but was gone so quickly that Athos could almost convince himself that he'd imagined it. Immediately feeling contrite, he stood abruptly, saying as he did so, "I need to get a cloth so I can clean that blood off your face."

As soon as Athos mentioned the blood, d'Artagnan registered the itchy sensation of the dried substance along the side of his face. He considered discovering the source with his fingers until he remembered Aramis' earlier admonishment to leave his injuries alone. Leaving both arms lying at his side, he watched as Athos found a clean cloth and wet it in a basin of water, before returning to dab at his temple and cheekbone.

The Gascon looked up at the older man, but Athos' gaze was firmly fixed on the source of the blood. Wanting to erase the awkwardness between them, d'Artagnan said, "I'm sorry if I scared you earlier." He waited for a response, but the older man remained focused on his task. "If our positions had been reversed, I would have felt the same way. You – all three of you – have become very good friends, and I would be devastated if something were to happen to you."

Athos' hand paused as he processed what he'd heard, the young man's words capturing what he'd been unable to state himself. Relaxing minutely, he gave a short nod, finishing his task with far less intensity than before. When he'd finished, he met d'Artagnan's gaze and announced, "That's much better. Now that you're presentable again, are you up for a visitor?"

The Gascon brightened immediately, even though he had no idea who might want to visit him. The expectant expression on the young man's face made Athos' lips quirk in a soft smile. "Given Madame Bonacieux's concern over your abduction, and" – he glanced at Aramis for a moment – "her temper, I thought it best to advise her of your safe return. She insisted on accompanying me so she could see for herself that you were alright." Thank God, you're alright, he thought to himself as he waited for the young man's answer.

"Constance is here?" d'Artagnan said, his tone edged with disbelief that his landlady would be so concerned about his welfare. Pushing his surprise aside, he answered, "Yes. Do I look alright?"

Athos refrained from rolling his eyes as stood to collect the Gascon's guest. "You look fine, now that you're not bleeding all over the place." The last part of his statement was said under the older man's breath, reflecting the last remnants of his earlier fears. He crossed to the door and exited for a moment, before entering the room once more, this time leading a much-subdued Madame Bonacieux.

She looked around the room hesitantly, her eyes lighting up when her gaze landed on the injured Gascon. She took two hurried steps forward before stopping, her brain catching up with the sight before her as she processed the fact that her protector had been hurt. Moving forward again, this time at a more sedate pace, she hesitantly asked, "Are you alright?"

d'Artagnan winced as he rolled his eyes at the question. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Perhaps it has something to do with your spectacular fall from the roof of a building today?" Aramis posed innocently from Porthos' bedside.

"You what?" Constance exclaimed, crossing the remaining distance to d'Artagnan's bed and pinning him with a stern look.

d'Artagnan looked incredibly sheepish as he threw the marksman a dirty look, before locking eyes with his landlady. "It was nothing, Constance, and as you can see, I'm fine."

She eyed him for several seconds before humming disbelievingly, but except for the bruising around the cut at his temple, and the fact that he was currently lying in bed, she could not see any other outward signs that he was about to expire. Grudgingly, she accepted his answer and asked, "What happened?"

"He took care of your financial problem," Porthos stated, grinning with pride as he glanced at the Gascon.

Constance blushed at the comment, but didn't dwell on it. "How can you be certain?"

"Because I saw Bernier's body delivered to the morgue myself," Athos responded dryly.

"He's dead?" Bonacieux questioned in obvious surprise.

"Quite dead," Aramis proclaimed with certainty. "When our young Gascon comes to the aid of a damsel in distress, he does so with ruthless efficiency."

d'Artagnan winced both at the insinuation that Constance was in need of saving, and at that he'd intentionally set out to kill Bernier. Misinterpreting his expression, Madame Bonacieux replied, "Well, at least d'Artagnan has the good sense not to suggest I can't take care of myself."

Realizing his mistake, Aramis' hand flew unconsciously to his cheek, vividly recalling the sting of the fiery woman's last slap. Chuckling, Porthos came to his friend's aid. "Actually, this time it was d'Artagnan who needed rescuing."

Groaning, the Gascon remembered his earlier words, cringing as his predication was realized. Porthos' comment caused Aramis to laugh, and even Athos managed a smile at the young man's discomfort. When Constance frowned instead, the men quieted and the large man said, "Best we not tease our young pup too much while he's injured."

d'Artagnan's features grew irritated as he rebutted, "Why do you keep calling me a pup? I'm really not that young, you know."

Porthos snorted, while Aramis smiled at the comment. His annoyance growing at the men's reactions, the Gascon declared, "I just turned nineteen."

Aramis and Porthos exchanged surprised looks, but it was Athos who picked up on the significance of the young man's declaration. "You didn't tell us that it was your birthday."

d'Artagnan's gaze dropped as he realized what he'd divulged, his one hand picking uncomfortably at the blanket that covered him. Trading looks first with Athos and then with Porthos, Aramis fixed his eyes on the Gascon as he questioned, "Is that true, d'Artagnan?"

At the Gascon's continued silence, Porthos interjected as he connected the dots, including the young man's out-of-character drinking the prior night. "When we went out to the Black Crow; that's why you drank so much."

d'Artagnan gave a noncommittal shrug, neither confirming nor denying the large man's conclusion. Softening his voice, the marksman asked, "Why didn't you say something?"

"We would've celebrated properly," Porthos added.

Another shrug accompanied the Gascon's response. "It wasn't that important…"

Athos interrupted, his tone firm but kind. "Of course, it was important, d'Artagnan." Seeing the expression of scepticism on the young man's face, he continued. "We are not merely brothers when on duty, but off-duty as well. You will need to learn that if you are to become one of us."

The words warmed the Gascon and he nodded, unable to speak past the sudden lump in his throat. Wanting to dispel their friend's discomfort, Porthos announced, "We'll take you out to celebrate as soon as Aramis lets you out of that bed."

"Once I let you both out of bed," the marksman corrected with a knowing smile on his face. "But I agree – I can't imagine that this is how you'd hoped to mark the occasion."

Grinning shyly, d'Artagnan admitted, "This isn't exactly how I'd envisioned a Paris birthday."

"Don't worry, we'll make it up to you," Porthos stated confidently. "Athos will even pay for the first round of drinks."

The older man simply dipped his chin in agreement, a soft smile gracing his face for a moment before a memory struck. Reaching into his doublet, he withdrew an item, which he presented to the Gascon. "I found this on Bernier's body, and I believe it belongs to you."

On the palm of his hand lay the hairpin the Gascon had received from Milady. Athos had been surprised at the expensive nature of the item, but decided not to question the young man; after all, his affairs were his own.

"Actually," d'Artagnan corrected, "that belongs to Constance."

Athos' brow rose as he wordlessly turned to the woman and presented the hairpin to her. "Thank you," she mumbled, obviously uncomfortable for some reason unknown to the other men. She plucked the item quickly from Athos' hand and tucked it into her bag. "Well, I really must be going," she announced, turning her attention to d'Artagnan. "Now that I know you're alright, I mean."

The Gascon merely smiled as he said, "Thank you for coming to check on me."

"When you think about it, I really had no choice. After all, how else was I to know whether or not I needed to find another tenant." She glanced briefly at each of the men in turn, but no one contradicted her reasons for visiting. With a satisfied nod to herself, she turned and made her way to the door, pulling it firmly closed behind her.

No one spoke for several seconds, until Porthos yawned and declared, "I'm beat. Aiding a damsel in distress is tiring work."

A chuckle building in his chest, Aramis corrected, "Two damsels, Porthos; we saved Madame Bonacieux and d'Artagnan today."

Laughter surrounded them as d'Artagnan groaned once more, even as he grinned at the good-natured banter, and eagerly anticipated the birthday celebration that would follow with his new friends.

End.

Thanks for reading!

A/N: Runner043 gave me a list of prompts, which I did my best to incorporate. I didn't quite manage all of them, but hopefully I squeezed in enough to make this a satisfying read. Hope you enjoyed your birthday fic!

Story prompts:

Set in season 1, between 'Slight of Hand' and 'A Rebellious Woman'.
- d'Artagnan is not yet commissioned
- has no income from his farm, nor the Musketeers
- still living at the Bonacieux house
- Constance is still in that 'yearning for adventure' phase
- d'Artagnan still thinks of her as kind and wonderful

I'd like Constance included - maybe a backstory/sub-plot kind of thing.

d'Artagnan confronts the guys about calling him; pup, kid, or any other term about his age - would like to see him get mad about it

Aramis gets bonked on the head and can only speak in Spanish. This drives Porthos nuts and is so funny!

A straw.

If someone is to get hurt what about either Constance or Milady.

Please have Constance slap Aramis again.

Since my favorite character, Porthos, is notably always with his bandana, can you squeeze in a scene where he is without it for some reason? Perhaps even that Aramis has Porthos' bandana in his possession while Porthos has Aramis' blue sash that he is know for?

Athos' comment to Milady about not liking England's food (S2E10) seemed to bug me for some reason…it just seemed like an out-of-context comment from him. Do you think you could work something into the story to take care of that?

I'd like it if d'Artagnan was mad at Athos, and for a very legitimate reason.