"This is your fault." D'Artagnan muttered furiously under his breath to Aramis. The four had spent the last three hours shovelling horse manure from the entire length of the Garrison Stables. They were not even half way finished.

"Excuse me?" cried Aramis in outrage, raising his pitchfork to smack the young one over the head with it.

"No talking!" snapped a voice. They all flinched and turned to gaze fearfully at Captain Treville, who was sat serenely on a hay-bale lovingly sharpening his sword. He had been there the entire time and showed no inclination of leaving. He seemed to enjoy watching them suffer.

Porthos and Athos both glared at their friends. Aramis guilty lowered his pitchfork. "May I remind you," he whispered discreetly to D'Artagnan, "that it was your idea to play that stupid game in the first place?"

"If you weren't being so annoying I would never have suggested it!" was the hissed response.

"Well, if you weren't being so boring I wouldn't have been annoying." Aramis retorted.

"Well if you didn't have such a short attention span then you wouldn't have been bored!"

"Well if you had kept me sufficiently entertained before then my attention would not have wandered!"

"Well…you're an idiot."

Aramis huffed. "Just because I'm a better kisser than you."

D'Artagnan flared up immediately and his voice rose. "That has absolutely nothing to do with anything!"

"So you admit it then?" Aramis grinned victoriously.

"Never!"

Porthos stepped forward. "If you two don't stop arguing right this second I'm going to-"

"PORTHOS DU VALLON." Treville's voice rang out like a shot. "I gave you an order. No talking."

"But-"

Treville slid his wetstone down his blade with an ominous screech. "No. Talking."

Porthos' shoulders slumped in dejection. He lowered his head meekly, eyes gleaming moist with tears, and silently resumed mucking out.

Athos couldn't help but step forward at such an injustice. "Permission to speak, sir."

Treville glared at him for a long moment. Then he sighed exasperatedly. "If you truly must please make it quick. Then all of you shut up and give me some peace."

"Porthos was asking D'Artagnan and Aramis to be silent for you, sir." The oldest musketeer reported.

Treville turned his burning gaze to the guilty offenders. "I see. And what did you two so urgently feel the need to talk about?"

They shuffled awkwardly and stared intently at the floor.

Athos supplied the information for them. "They were arguing about who is the better kisser, sir."

Treville stared at them in bewilderment. "And why were you discussing such a thing?"

"Because-" D'Artagnan burst in quickly, "Aramis keeps saying that I made Athos sick by kissing him!"

"Well you did." grunted Athos.

"You're just making that up!" whined D'Artagnan.

Treville tapped his sword on his blade. "And why," he paused for threatening effect, "were you and Athos kissing?"

"…I was assaulted." Athos muttered.

"Oh, come on!" D'Artagnan exploded. "It just wasn't that bad!"

"Just face it D'Artagnan." Aramis grinned. "You. Are. A. Bad. Kisser."

"Get over it already." added Porthos grumpily. He still stinging from having to take the blame.

Treville coughed awkwardly. "D'Artagnan. I feel it necessary to remind you that I like things to remain professional between my Musketeers. Whatever your…ahem…attraction to Athos, please attempt to keep it from interfering with our work."

D'Artagnan stared at him for a few moments. Then he began to splutter, face bright red as he tried to form words through his choking outrage. All that came out was a squeak sounding vaguely like "Constance."

Aramis and Porthos were laughing so hard they could barely stand. Then Porthos slapped his friend on the back with a great roar of merriment. Aramis promptly fell face-first into a pile of hay. All that remained visible was the feather in the top of his hat.

Athos glared at his comrades, a crimson blush staining his cheeks. "It was a dare." He stated dryly.

"Ah." The Captain sighed wearily. However, though he would never let it show, he was secretly amused by their childish antics. As long as he wasn't involved, their bickering was vaguely endearing. "It seems this game was more damaging than I originally thought. Well, how do we settle the matter?"

Athos was quick with a response. "A duel between gentlemen, supervised by the strict code of honour." He declared in rehearsed tones.

Treville raised his eyebrows. "Seems a little drastic…" he ventured.

Athos looked a little put out. "Well what do you suggest?"

Aramis' head suddenly popped out the top of the hay. "I know! A NEW GAME!"

Porthos leapt on top of him to shut him up. Needless to say, Aramis was effectively buried once more.

"It was a game that got you into this situation in the first place." Treville reminded.

"Do you forgive us now Captain?" D'Artagnan tried his best puppy dog eyes. "We've been cleaning the stables for like, forever."

Treville said nothing.

Porthos looked up quickly, hope blooming. He stopped trying to suffocate Aramis and yanked him out by the collar. Then he hurled his friend at Treville's feet and gave him a meaningful glare.

"I apologise from the heart for my out of control behaviour…" Aramis murmured humbly to Treville's boots.

Athos bowed formerly to his Captain. "I too am ashamed of my contribution to our childish antics."

Porthos gazed heartfeltly into Treville's eyes. "Sorry, Captain." He murmured. "I am unworthy of the trust you put in me by accepting me into your regiment."

Treville suddenly felt a lump form in his throat. "Porthos," he tried, but his voice uncharacteristically broke. "I only said that in anger. Making you a musketeer was the best choice I ever made, and I have never regretted it. I hope you know that."

D'Artagnan looked like he was about to say "what about me?" so Athos kicked him viciously. Aramis was glowing with honest pride for his best friend.

Porthos stood biting his lip for a moment, trying to hold back tears. Then he embraced the Captain in a fierce hug. Treville, who had seemed to be on the verge of tears himself, now focused on breathing. "Porthos…" he gasped, "ribs…breaking…"

Porthos leapt back in horror. "Oh, I'm so sorry Captain!"

"That's all alright." winced Treville, though he was still smiling.

There was silence for a few moments.

"Sooo…" tried D'Artagnan hopefully after a few moments. "Are we good now?"

Treville considered. "I guess so." He muttered eventually.

"Excellent!" Aramis leapt to his feet and threw away the pitchfork. He turned to Athos. "Have I got hay in my hair?"

Athos observed him with considerable amusement. "You look like a scarecrow."

"WHAT?!" Aramis all-but screamed in horror. "My beautiful hair!" he ran to the door and yanked it open, intending to inspect the damage with the mirror in his rooms. He stopped short at the torrent of rain that gushed like a carpet from the sky. "This is a disaster!" he wailed, flopping to the floor in despair. "If I go out there it will get wet too and become as curly as Porthos'!"

D'Artagnan snickered evilly from behind him. "No one will want to kiss you, then."

Athos rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Seriously," Porthos growled. "Just let it go."

Aramis puffed himself up. "Whatever happens to my hair, it will always look better than yours! So drab and limp and lacking in…pizazz."

"Well, I'm taller than you!" declared D'Artagnan proudly.

"And I actually have facial hair."

That struck a blow. "Just wait until you're asleep…" D'Artagnan promised, eyes gleaming with intent.

Aramis' hand went to his lip in horror. "Are you threatening my moustache?"

"So what if I am?"

"I'll kill you slowly and painfully."

"I'd like to see you try."

The two musketeers began to face off against each other. Aramis crouched as if about to launch himself at D'Artagnan. Athos and Porthos circled them, preparing to judge the winner.

"Shall we play a game?" Treville burst out frantically.

Everyone froze and turned to stare at him. He felt himself redden. "That is," he coughed, "Something other than having a fistfight in which someone could be needlessly injured and have to take time off from guarding the King of France."

Still silence. Then D'Artagnan asked "what kind of game?"

"Will you play?" Porthos asked in practically the same instant.

Treville suddenly felt like a father with four irresponsible immature young boys. The thought made him uncomfortable. "No, I think not."

"Oh pleeeeaaasseee?" cried Aramis. "You never have any fun with us."

Even Athos was looking wonderingly at Treville now. He sighed and scrubbed his face over his hand. "Oh, very well."

D'Artagnan and Aramis cheered loudly and hugged each other, dancing round in circles. Athos and Porthos stared at him in amazement.

"Well, what are we playing then?" he asked gruffly. He couldn't believe he was becoming as childish as them, but Aramis was right. It had been so long since he'd enjoyed himself. Besides, no one could make him muck out the stables if it got out of hand.

"Spin the bottle?" Aramis suggested mischievously.

"God, no!" Athos shuddered. D'Artagnan said nothing. Porthos patted him proudly on the back.

Treville felt the need to set a few rules. "I refuse to play a game that involves me discovering too much about your personal lives. Or you mine for that matter."

D'Artagnan's shoulders drooped. "I guess that's no never-have-I-ever then…"

"You have permission to play that when I am 50 miles from your vicinity."

Porthos suddenly lit up with an idea. "How about would-you-rather?" Aramis made an enthusiastic noise. Treville looked at Athos, unsure. Athos shrugged as if to say how bad could it be?

"Fine." The Captain replied firmly. "Though remember – nothing inappropriate."

Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan grinned at each other wickedly.

"Athos, you start." Treville commanded, choosing to ignore those looks.

Athos made sure to sit down on his own private hay bale which could be defended from intruders if necessary. "Porthos, would you rather...only drink or only eat for the rest of your life?"

"That's hard!" complained Porthos. Whilst he was considering, his stomach rumbled loudly. "I guess that's a sign. I'll only eat."

Athos stared at him in surprise. "But…wine." His voice trailed away into puzzled bewilderment.

Porthos rolled his eyes. "Pie, Athos. Pie. Captain, would you rather spend 1 month with the Cardinal or 1 month with the King?"

"Totally alone?"

Porthos nodded. Treville looked round seriously at them all. "I want your word that all of what is said here will never go any further."

They gave it without hesitation.

"Well," Treville continued. "the King is a petulant child, and it seems I have four of those to deal with already. Besides, I cannot deny that thwarting the Cardinal's plans is extremely entertaining."

"Treason from his own mouth!" declared Aramis dramatically. They all laughed.

"D'Artagnan," Treville pondered, "Would you rather be a good kisser or a good swordsman?"

Porthos and Aramis looked at each other surreptitiously and tried not to grin.

"He means an actual sword, you idiots." Athos rolled his eyes.

"Of course." Porthos replied meekly, though as soon as Athos looked away he waggled his eyebrows at D'Artagnan.

"I suppose," D'Artagnan responded reluctantly, "a better swordsman, because I can make a living from it. Athos...would you rather kiss me or Aramis?"

Treville cleared his throat warningly.

"What?" the young musketeer smiled innocently.

Athos looked positively alarmed, as though a trap had just sprung shut around him. A heavy flush spread up the back of his neck. "Aramis." He muttered under his breath with his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Why?!" D'Artagnan asked, heartbroken.

Athos said nothing. Aramis patted his back comfortingly. "Because we've already kissed, and I was better than you." The sharp-shooter responded smugly.

"WHAT?!" roared Porthos. He looked scandalised. Treville had buried his face in his hands and was murmuring something about unprofessionalism. D'Artagnan's mouth was wide open in shock.

"When were you going to tell me this?" Porthos continued, seeming genuinely hurt.

Aramis chuckled. "Relax, everyone. It was just an accident. I fell on top of Athos when we were training and accidently kissed him. An honest mistake."

Porthos glared suspiciously between Athos and Aramis for a while. Then he grunted. "We might just as well play kiss-marry-kill at this rate."

Treville and Athos shook their heads no whilst D'Artagnan and Aramis frantically shook their heads yes.

"Three against one!" shrieked D'Artagnan excitedly.

"Aramis," Porthos pondered, "kiss-marry-kill…me, the King, and the Queen."

Aramis considered. "I think 'll kill the King. Purely theoretically of course, Captain!" he shot a reassuring smile at Treville, who looked like he was regretting joining in their games. "And if I say I want to marry the Queen then Athos will strangle me here and now, so I'd better marry Porthos. You're a better cook anyway." He patted his best friend on the back. "Captain, kiss marry kill: Athos, Constance and D'Artagnan."

Treville looked exceedingly awkward. "I don't really want anything to do with any of them…"

"…well that's quite rude." Athos remarked.

"Yeah," added D'Artagnan with a smirk. "I thought we had something special!"

Porthos sniggered.

"If I was in there would you marry me?" Aramis asked.

"You'd be dead without a moment's hesitation." Treville snapped.

Aramis' head drooped sadly. "Oh."

"What about me?" Porthos queried.

Treville buried his head in his hands. "You are not part of the question Porthos."

"But if I was?"

"…then I'd marry you."

"I love you too Captain."

"Shut up."

D'Artagnan cleared his throat. "What about us though?"

Treville sighed long-sufferingly. "I'd marry Constance because she doesn't have any annoying habits, as far as I'm aware."

"I don't have annoying habits!" gasped D'Artagnan in outrage.

"Singing, whistling, clicking your fingers, tapping your feet, losing everything you touch, jumping in puddles, eating with your mouth open, twirling your hair, setting fire to things, prodding, general whining, going on and on and on about Constance…shall I continue?"

D'Artagnan glared at him. "That won't be necessary, thank you."

"Oh, and that annoying eyebrow thing you always do." Treville added as an afterthought.

Porthos frowned. "What are Athos' annoying habits?"

"A shorter list I admit." Treville smiled dryly. "Drunkenness and moping. So I guess that means I'll kiss Athos-"

"-please don't." Athos quickly interjected.

"And kill D'Artagnan."

Aramis scooted over to the younger musketeer as he wailed "why does everyone hate me?" and wrapped him in a warm hug.

"Constance doesn't." he reminded him.

D'Artagnan sniffled. "So the rest of you do?"

There was a brief silence before everyone cried "of course not!" in unison. D'Artagnan gave a watery smile as they all did their best to cheer him up with compliments.

"But am I really a bad kisser?" he asked, eyes wide and pleading.

Aramis struggled with himself internally for a moment. Then he plastered a rather ghastly smile on his face and forced out the word "no." He instantly regretted it.

"I knew it!" D'Artagnan whooped. He leapt up and danced cheeringly around the stables, stopping to pick up Treville and spin him around joyfully. "I'm a better kisser than you Aramis! You said so and you can't take it back!"

Aramis crossed his arms. "Actually, I said aren't a bad kisser. Not that you are better than me."

"It's too late Aramis! You admitted it!"

"I did no such thing."

"Well, I am better than you."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No. You're really not."

"I really, really am."

"No-"

Porthos, Athos and Treville stood and ran out through the door into the rain.

Hi folks! Hoped you liked it (I'm not too sure about it myself…) and please leave a review, nice or nasty :)

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE MUSKETEERS OR ITS CHARACTERS, AND I AM NOT MAKING ANY MONEY FROM THIS.