Here it is, my final chapter before I fly to a foreign country for two weeks with no connection to the internet (boo hoo :( ) A shorter chapter but filled with (hopefully) adorable brotherly fluffiness. Just cause I want them to show a cuter, more vulnerable side with one another. Enjoy and if you haven't already, please leave a goodbye review as an overall comment on the story and whether I should do something similar in the future. I hope you enjoy and have a great few weeks! Oh and keep writing! I have a feeling I'm going to be suffering through some withdrawal symptoms by the end of my trip because fanfiction is the world's mos addictive drug.

Porthos and Athos followed without a change in their pace but d'Artagnan dawdled on the doorstep, looking round nervously inside before slowly stepping in and shutting the door quietly behind him.

"Shouldn't we go back to the garrison and report to Treville?" the Gascon asked curiously, creeping down the corridor into the main body of the house; eyes scanning the bare walls and bleak furniture as he entered the living quarters.

"The Captain is expecting us tomorrow." Athos informed him stoically, turning his head to face the younger man as Aramis hurriedly rushed upstairs, practically dragging Porthos by one arm "As long as we check in for debriefing, the Captain will be fine with the arrangement."

"The mission ain't too serious anyway so we don't need to tell 'im right away." Porthos' voice called from the top of the rickety, wooden staircase.

"Enough talk about work!" Aramis' tired whine sounded from further in the house before footsteps echoed on the landing above their heads "I need my beauty sleep and I haven't slept in days. It's not easy being the most irresistible bachelor in all of Paris!"

Athos made a frustrated sound and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling as if playing for some kind of divine intervention before gesturing for d'Artagnan to head upstairs. Porthos was leant against the banister waiting for them, grinning at d'Artagnan's wide eyed look.

"First time you've been in Athos' house, isn't it lad? This is like a second home for the rest of us; only reason it's kinda tidy is 'cause Aramis won't stand for Athos leavin' empty bottles around the place."

D'Artagnan frowned in confusion as he reached the top of the stairs, the boards creaking under his feet at the additional weight "I thought Athos lived at the garrison with the rest of the Musketeers?"

"I do." Athos said calmly, squeezing passed the two and walking calmly t toward where Aramis' shadow was disappearing through an open door.

"Athos doesn't like all the fuss of bein' around everyone all the time." Porthos explained with a warm smile "So he has this little bolt hole so he can drink himself into oblivion in private. Treville doesn't particularly want to see us draggin' a drunken Athos back at obscene times in the mornin' anyway."

D'Artagnan nodded mutely—from a combination of exhaustion and surprise—and Porthos wrapped his arm around the younger man's shoulder and led him over to the room at the end of the landing, the door wide open to allow candlelight to flicker through. The room itself was a stark contrast to the Spartan house, with lavish furnishings, cosy chairs and a huge bed with fine sheets fit for an army that someone had obviously spent an inordinate amount of time choosing. It practically screamed 'Aramis' and Porthos laughed at the expression on the Gascon's face as he looked around the room.

"Aramis was a little overzealous with the décor." Athos complained with a slight wince, his own eyes skimming the design and obviously trying to guess d'Artagnan's own conclusions as he shucked off his jacket and boots in the corner "Unfortunately I was rather inebriated when he asked my permission and I foolishly granted it. Though I expect that was the plan."

"What can I say? I know you all too well, Athos. You were never going to agree otherwise." Aramis beamed sounding prideful, lounging in a starfish shape across the bed in only his underclothes, eyes closed and a blissful expression on his face.

Porthos stalked forward, muscles tensed as he went to jump onto the bed "Move over, 'Mis, and stop hogging all the sheets!"

"Shoes off!" Aramis ordered with a face as he sat bolt upright to hold off the larger man "You are not getting in here with me with those dirty boots on!"

"Jeez, 'Mis. Lighten up." Porthos moaned in reply, tossing off his dirty jacket and kicking his mucky boots into the corner of the room before Aramis obligingly shifted for him to drop down.

Athos rolled his eyes before elegantly moving over to the other side of the bed and sitting down, lying back onto the pillows with a quiet exhalation of delight. He eagerly squirmed on the mattress to get comfortable as Aramis snuggled up close against him, seemingly unaffected by the closeness as they shut their eyes. Porthos pushed up against them, sitting further up so his arm was above Aramis' head and the taller man's side was pressed against Aramis' back. D'Artagnan stood a few feet from the bed, rocking on his heels as he watched the display with an unusual anxiousness brewing in his stomach.

"What are you waitin' for?" Porthos cracked an eye lazily open to look up at him "Climb in."

D'Artagnan was startled by the question and nearly blushed, chin dropping to his chest as he awkwardly fiddled with his sleeve "I-I wouldn't want to intrude, I'll just head back-"

"Stop being shy and get in, d'Art. Trust me, you'll never sleep better than when with these two." Aramis called over his shoulder, though he didn't roll over to face him.

D'Artagnan hesitantly began to pull away his signature leather jacket, brow furrowed in obvious unease, carefully removing his boots and purposefully taking as long as possible.

Eventually Aramis made a long exasperated sigh and sat up, rousing Athos in the process as all three stared at their youngest "If you would, Porthos. I'd rather not die of old age and we know how grouchy Athos gets when he's tired…more grouchy anyway."

Athos growled an objection that rather backed up the younger man's argument and proceeded to swat Aramis around the back of the head fondly, a tired expression on his face. Porthos groaned at the prospect of moving and then lunged at d'Artagnan with a speed mystifying given his size, seizing the boy by the arm and flipping him over and onto the bed with a move more designed for the battlefield than the bedroom. As soon as d'Artagnan dropped heavily on the mattress, Aramis embraced him, entangling their limbs together and effectively trapping him on the bed.

"You hurt?" Porthos murmured in slight concern, checking the boy over lazily before pulling the pillow under his arm and turning round to block off any chance of escape "Good. Now go to sleep."

"Don't bother arguing with them." Athos advised softly as he settled back into his original position, Aramis's back pressed against him as his eyes slid closed "They always insist on sleeping with brothers."

It was both a praise and an explanation and about as cute and sappy as Athos was going to get ever, probably brought on by his exhaustion. The other two had faintly surprised expressions on their faces, d'Artagnan's eyes wide at the show of affection but they quickly recovered when Porthos mussed d'Artagnan's hair armourously.

"You're surprisingly cuddly." Aramis mused quietly, his breath warm on d'Artagnan's neck as the boy's stiff muscles relaxed and he invited the warmth and closeness of the four.

"Thanks…?" D'Artagnan whispered with a raised eyebrow and Porthos' arm drifted up to flick Aramis in the face.

"Shut up, 'Mis."

Athos yawned "I agree."

"Just jealous that I get to hug, d'Artagnan."

"Aramis, go to sleep!" the three others in the bed chorused and Aramis huffed quietly before settling down.

In a few minutes, all four were snoring softly, locked together in a warm embrace as they slept in total peace.

Fini.

Hope you enjoyed this series!