Chapter Text
With Athos reporting back to the others that the offer from the record company was pretty damn cracking, they immediately signed their names to a four album deal. The money exceeded anything he'd ever dreamed of, but for Porthos it was all about the chance to make music in a professional capacity.
Once the tour was over they went straight into the studio, which proved to be an utter joy. Porthos was a kid in a candy store, knowledgeable about the technology and with such a great ear that the engineers and producer they were working with were more than happy to listen to his input.
They recorded at least two albums worth of songs and were so used to playing them that it took weeks rather than months to lay the tracks down, although it was impossible to drag Porthos out of the studio at the end of each day.
"Where did you learn to play guitar?" he asked Athos when they had their heads together at the mixing desk.
"In prison." Athos raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "Music therapy sessions."
"No fucking way." Porthos burst out laughing. "So I called it right from the start?"
"You did." Athos grinned. "You're remarkably astute." He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was around and then slid onto Porthos' knee for some kisses. "Remarkable all round."
"They're at it again," complained d'Artagnan when he and Aramis joined them in the booth a few minutes later. "Guys, we need to get this album finished before festival season starts up. We have a couple of weeks is all."
"Relax, puppy boy," said Porthos, sulking now that Athos had deserted him for another chair. "It's finished and in with the execs. We were just recording one of Athos' songs." The one that had brought them together again: a song for Thomas and also for him. He played the bare bones of it to the others and it was haunting in its simplicity.
"You have a gift, chéri," said Aramis, kissing Athos on the forehead who frowned at him and ducked away then switched tracks to Long Time No See.
"We all have a bloody gift," said d'Artagnan. "This mix is massive. It has to be the single. Now we just have to find out how they're going to market us."
The answer was as a cross between Mad Max and a leather clad pastiche of seventeenth century pirates. It was perfect: scruffy enough to keep Athos happy and it fitted in well with the band's retro anarchic style. The video shoot was a post apocalyptic chase, full of pimped cars, pistols and pyro, and nestled in amongst the chaos were four overgrown children, having the time of their lives.
"I thought you'd be way too moody for this?" laughed Porthos as Athos climbed off one of the motorbikes, unable to hide a boyish grin of delight.
Athos shrugged. "I'm happy," he said, and as far as Porthos was concerned, that was all that mattered.
*
With some fierce promotion underway, it didn't take long for Athos' story to make the minor columns of the music papers and blog sites.
Far from being annoyed, Richelieu found it positively splendid news. "Finally an act I can get my teeth into," he leered. "Titled and a criminal, you really are a dream, dear boy. Lord Lucan revisited."
Athos was finding it less of a dream and more of a public humiliation and so hid away from the world, staring at vodka bottles rather than actually drinking them, but it was still a huge worry for Porthos who hated to see him hurting.
"If you can't cope with all the crap then we quit the band and fuck off to the Outer Hebrides or somewhere," he said, relaxing back on the bed with Athos sprawled bonelessly across him, both of them zoned out after an hour or so of therapeutic fucking.
"You'd do that for me?"
A pair of startled green eyes looked up at him and Porthos smiled. "Nah, I'm far too selfish. I'd do it for us." He twisted them around around they were lying side by side. "Listen, darling, I need two things in my life, you and a guitar. Nothing else is important, you hear me?"
"I hear you," said Athos. "This shit will die down soon though?"
"Course it will." Porthos kissed him. "You're my entire world, but you're a nine days wonder to everyone else."
*
The video for Long Time No See was played widely on the music channels and before long they were almost famous. By the time August was coming to an end and StS was here, they actually had fans who didn't come from their own town. It was, however, brilliant to be back home and have a chance to catch up with the old ones.
"What time do you call this?" yelled d'Artagnan, glaring at Aramis. "The other two are pathologically late, not you."
Aramis threw himself down into a deckchair, joint in hand, grin in place. "I went with Margie to her appointment at the clinic. I got to see my little bub wriggling around."
"Your little bub wriggles around way too much," chuckled Porthos. "That's the fucking problem."
"Quiet now," said Aramis. "None of that filthy talk when you're discussing my offspring. Marguerite and I are going to be the best parents ever, even if we're not together."
"So has this taught you a lesson?" asked Constance in her schoolmarm voice.
"Safe sex all the way, sugar." Aramis winked at her. "Lots of safe sex."
There was a combined groan of despair from the group.
"And Anne?" asked Porthos. "How's she taking it? She's pretty attached to Margie."
"Actually she's impressed." Aramis grinned. "She thinks I'm being very mature about it, supportive without the need for grand gestures and bended knees."
"That's cool," said Porthos with a shrug, passing his joint to Athos who pulled a face and passed it on.
Aramis smiled happily. "So, maybe there's some hope for us yet."
"Oh god no," muttered Porthos, his head in his hands. "There's no hope for you, mate. You're a bloody lost cause."
The weather had been fantastic all day. The sun had now dipped down below the horizon and festival goers were pushing to the front of the arena for a good view. The band watched from the wings as their roadies set up all the equipment. The computerised light show was good to go and the stage was once again transformed into an old garrison.
"I still can't believe this is happening," said Porthos.
"What?" laughed Aramis. 'We're headlining one of the smallest festival in the country and our single has reached the heady heights of ninety four in the charts?"
As they walked out on stage to the usual backing track, a roar erupted from the crowd, the kind they'd never heard before. The audience was a sea of flags interspersed with flashes from phones and cameras and the commotion only got louder when they launched into their first song.
"Ninety four is fine. Who needs a number one when we have this," yelled Porthos as they finished the final encore to loud demands for more, even though the lights were dimming and the fireworks already starting up.
"We might get to sixty nine later." Athos raised an amused eyebrow.
"I wouldn't put it past us," said Porthos, slinging an arm around him and kissing him full on the mouth. "Let's go home and see what comes up."
Too tired to party and too randy to do anything but plead exhaustion and head for sanctuary, they stripped each other off and fell naked into Treville's spare bed.
"Daddy won't mind us fucking in here, will he?" smirked Athos, though it was a little late for that seeing as he was starfished out with Porthos kneeling between his legs, fingering him open and stroking his cock.
"Daddy doesn't have to find out." Porthos grinned and slid on a condom for some less messy sex.
"What? With the noise you make when you come?" Athos let out a huff of amusement. "You sound like an angry bull on the rampage."
Porthos narrowed his eyes and hauled Athos around until he was spread over him, slapping a hand down hard on his arse. "You cheeky fucking bitch," he said with a bellow of laughter. "Now you get to ride me as penance."
Athos knelt up, taking Porthos into him a fraction of an inch at a time. "My favourite ever punishment," he said, his voice hoarse with excitement.
Adrenaline pushed the sex to new highs and as Athos screwed him--slowly, steadily--Porthos held that pretty cock, letting it slide slick through the circle of his fist, stroking, squeezing, tugging at Athos' balls then thumbing each nipple in turn until his toes were curling and he was coming in streaks over Porthos' chest.
They tumbled to the floor, Athos' face pressed into the bed as Porthos fucked into him, loud and hard, taking him in some deeply primal way. The love you's were then shared out equally as they slid under the covers for some much needed cuddling.
"It's good to be home," said Porthos, his face nestled into the crook of Athos' neck.
*
The next night was all about reliving the past. D'Artagnan and Aramis had gone off to StS, but once again the weather had turned to shit and the other two opted to hang out at The Wren which was low lit and devoid of customers, perfectly suited to their mood.
"Play something," said Treville, pointing at the stage which was set up ready for open mic on Wednesday. "I never get to hear you nowadays, except on MTV."
As always, Athos had his guitar with him and he opened the case and passed the instrument to Porthos. "You play it," he said, sober in all ways.
They took to the stage, every step a trip back in time, and without another word Porthos smoothed his hand over the surface of the Tanglewood and began to pick at the strings, choosing the slower tunes, the broken down painful ones to which Athos poured out his soul. They finished up with Thomas' song, both too emotional to carry on any longer, and then returned to sit at the bar, silent for a long while afterwards.
"I missed you boys," said Treville in a gruff voice.
"We missed you too. I miss everything about this place." Porthos' voice cracked a little and Athos held his hand.
"When I'm past it and can't pull a pint then you can come and run it for me," said Treville. "Unless you're too famous by then, that is."
"Never too famous for you." Porthos raised his Coke in a toast.
"Surely you're past it already, old man," smirked Athos, eliciting a rumble of discontent from Treville. "How about we take over tomorrow?"
Porthos smiled at this because he knew that one day, not tomorrow, not next year or even the year after, but one day it would happen and he felt safe for the first time in his life.
---end