Aramis

D'Artagnan kicked the door open. The farmhouse had clearly been abandoned for some time, the air was musty. Dust, disturbed by his sudden entrance, floated up. The young man walked through the living area to a bedroom at the rear of the small building. He gave the small bed he found there a kick before stepping back with satisfaction. The frame was not rotten, it would do for what they needed it for.

'In here,' he called over his shoulder as he straightened up the threadbare blanket that covered the lumpy old mattress.

Porthos was trying to help Aramis though the farmhouse, but the marksman was doing his best to walk unaided.

'It's really not that bad,' said Aramis as he sat on the edge of the bed, although he did not protest to Porthos' hands on the buckles of his doublet, his arm hanging limply at his side.

'Yeah, and the blood pouring out of your arm is normal?'

'It's not pouring out…' retorted Aramis before hissing with pain as Porthos pushed the jacket down the injured arm.

D'Artagnan moved forward and grabbed Aramis' shoulders when he swayed and nearly toppled forward. Between them he and Porthos got the injured man to lie on the bed, with Porthos supporting Aramis from behind.

'You need to wash it and use the alcohol to clean the wound,' said Aramis, with a slight slur.

'We know what to do,' said Athos as he entered the room placing a bowl of water on the floor next to where Aramis lay. D'Artagnan watched as Athos rolled out the marksman's medical kit across a small table by the bed.

'Who's going to do the stitching?' he asked glancing up at Athos and then across to Porthos.

'I could stitch it myself.'

'No,' said Porthos firmly pulling Aramis back when the injured man tried to sit forward.

'I will stitch it,' said Athos.

'There are bandages…'

'We know what to do, Aramis,' Athos said again.

D'Artagnan could not help a smirk as he set about pulling a couple of bandages from the bag. He soaked one in the water before handing it to Athos who cleaned up the wound.

'Where did that fifth man come from?' asked d'Artagnan.

'No idea, he must have been watching as we were taking out 'is mates,' replied Porthos as he pulled Aramis back again.

'I might react to the alcohol,' said Aramis who seemed to be unaware of the conversation going on around him, he was intently watching what Athos was doing, 'have you made sure there is no dirt…'

'Aramis,' said Athos looking up at him, 'we know what to do.'

Both d'Artagnan and Porthos were suppressing laughter as Athos spoke to Aramis as if he were a child.

With no warning to the marksman Athos poured the spirit over the wound, Aramis hissed in pain his eyes wide from the shock. Athos lips twitched at the reaction he had elicited.

'Don't push the needle in too close to the wound…'

'Could we knock 'im out to shut him up?' asked Porthos keeping his expression serious, his eyes giving away his true feelings of amusement.

'No,' said Aramis as he again tried to wriggle away from Porthos.

D'Artagnan sat on the end of the bed and grabbed Aramis' legs to keep him still. Athos took the needle and began the first stitch.

'I'm not a pin cushion.'

Athos sat back on his heels and stared at the complaining man.

'You're pushing the needle too deep.'

Athos shook his head then went back to his task. He managed to get two stitches in before Aramis was complaining again through clenched teeth.

'They're still too deep.'

Athos was clearly getting exasperated at the continued interruptions from Aramis. D'Artagnan reached out for the needle and Athos nodded his thanks as they swapped places.

Aramis was panting slightly and looked close to passing out. D'Artagnan hoped he would be able to get the rest of the stitches in without further complaint from his patient. But Aramis clearly had issues with the young musketeers work as well.

'You're tugging at the thread too much, you'll rip the skin.'

D'Artagnan sighed and looked up at Porthos, he held up the needle after finishing another stitch. Porthos understood and gently pushed Aramis forward so that Athos could take his place holding the injured man still.

'I don't want you doing them…'

'Well it's too late now ain't it. You've managed to annoy the two neat tailors…is this why you try to hide injuries, because you don't like other people stitching you up. You don't trust us, do you?'

D'Artagnan watched as Aramis tried to hide his embarrassment. Porthos had clearly worked out what Aramis' problem was.

'You're such a perfectionist,' said Porthos as he pushed the needle into his friend's skin.

Aramis had tensed up as the last few stitches were put in. D'Artagnan was convinced Aramis was going to pass out but he did not.

Porthos finished the final stitch and cut the thread. They were all a bit surprised when Aramis spoke again, quietly.

'Thank you.'

'No problem,' replied Porthos with a smile as he reached for a clean bandage to cover the wound.

MMMM

Authors note: I hope you enjoyed it. I've caught up on my backlog of stories now, so you will have to wait until I have written another (I have two planned out, so hopefully it won't be long). Thanks again for all the lovely reviews you write.