Tend to Your Wounds (Aramis)
Summary: You tend to Aramis’s wounds
Warnings: Injury, mentions of blood, kissing
Word Count: 1540
AN: we’re not going to question where the other boys are. Also, I have a firm belief that Aramis would always ask for consent! Feedback is always appreciated!
《 m.list || ao3 》
You sat at the window of your godfather’s hotel overlooking the Garrison. It had been a quiet day; the recruits were tending to the stables and other work that kept the Garrison running as smoothly as possible. The musketeers were escorting the queen’s cousin to the Louver, and your godfather was at the Louver discussing some matters with the king. You on the other hand were left to your own devices.
You had moved into the Garrison shortly before your 13th birthday, almost ten years ago. Your parents had passed and requested that Tréville looked after you. Being a good friend of your parents, he took on the job of raising you, even though he questioned his qualifications. Sure, he was a great captain but that did not necessarily translate into being a good parent to a 13-year-old.
You helped out around the garrison, keeping the barracks in check when the musketeers and recruits were out on missions. As you grew you were taught useful things that every teenager should know, how to load and shoot a pistol, how to defend yourself using a sword, how to stitch up wounds left by swords and bullets, and how to adjust dislocated joints. By the time you were 17, you were the closest thing the garrison had to a doctor.
You let out a soft sigh, letting your mind wander. It couldn’t help but wander to a certain tall, handsome brunette… You were quickly brought out of your daydreaming by a knock on the hotel door. Who the hell would be knocking? You opened the door to find a bloodied Aramis standing in front of you with a weak smile. When your mind had wandered to the Musketeer Aramis this was not exactly what you had in mind.
“Hello. I might need some help…” Aramis walked past you to the chair that you had previously been sitting on. He glanced back over to you and noticed the concerned look on your face, “don’t worry, not all of this is mine.”
Of course, he would be making light of the situation at a time like this. “Yes, that is quite a comfort…” You walked over to grab your bag of medical supplies and a bottle of clear grain alcohol. You pulled up a chair in front of him. “What the hell happened?” You help him out of his leather pauldron before kneeling in front of him to carefully unbutton his shirt which looked like it had been torn to shreds.
“You know…” he let out a soft groan as he shifted in his chair. “When I picture you on your knees in front of me there is significantly less blood… and clothing” he chuckles softly before groaning once more. You rolled your eyes as blood rushed to your cheeks. You tugged at his shirt, lacking the delicacy you held prior; Aramis gritted his teeth as pain radiated throughout his body.
Aramis had known you since he had first been recruited years ago. You two had grown close, much to Tréville’s chagrin. To be fair, Tréville didn’t trust anyone near you, taking on a somewhat fatherly role. However, this statement reigned particularly relevant to the musketeer Aramis, who was known to be a flirt with a way of obtaining what he wanted from others.
As you removed the shreds that remained of the musketeer’s shirt you surveyed the damage. Slashes and bruises covered his tan skin and blood was continuing to pool from a bullet hole in his shoulder. You placed his arm on the table, “I see the bullet… I’m going to have to take it out in order to stitch you up properly.” You handed him the bottle of booze before setting out your instruments. When he handed you back the bottle, you gave him an apologetic look, “I won’t lie to you… this is going to hurt.” He gave you a nod acknowledging what you were about to do. You poured some of the bottle’s contents into the wound to disinfect it. Aramis bit back the noise that he wanted to let out. You got to work quickly removing the bullet from his shoulder. You held a rag up to slow some of the bleeding and prepared to close it along with some of his deeper cuts.
As you worked on closing the deeper cuts, Aramis’s deep brown eyes were fixed on you. He watched as your tongue would wet your lips and the light crease that your brow created as you focused. He had always thought you were one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen, a beauty he wish God had created just for him.
His memory brings him back to the first time he had met you; he was a young recruit of 19 and you were the godchild to the Capitan, only a year or two younger than him. During his recruit training, he was slashed on his leg and Tréville had ordered him to go up to the hotel for medical attention. When he made his way in, you were waiting to stitch him up. He remembered your gentle touch, how you described everything you were going to do in an attempt to minimize any fear he may have had. In truth, the only thing he was focused on was you, your bright E/C colored eyes, the lightness of your touch… Ever since that moment the thought of you never left his mind. If he were, to tell the truth, he wouldn’t want it any other way.
Truth be told, Aramis loved you. He couldn’t tell if it was the adrenaline, his injuries, the alcohol, or how you were only a few inches from his face, however, he needed to get his feelings across to you.
After finishing the last stitches, you grabbed a bowl of warm water and a clean rag. You sat on the chair opposite Aramis and began to clean some of the now-dried blood that was scattered across his chest. You leaned in closer, not yet realizing just how close to the brunette you were.
If you were to be truthful, you had fallen for Aramis shortly after he had joined the Musketeers. He never looked down on you or treated you any differently because of your relation to the captain. Rather you two became quick friends, friends that carried a veil of tension between them. However, neither one of you had ever confessed your feelings to the other.
As you were finishing your work, you had taken notice of just how close you were to Aramis. You could feel his gentle breath against your cheek. You swallowed not daring to look in his eyes, “I know there is no point in telling you this, but you should rest for a day or two and allow yourself to heal.” You wanted your voice to come out stern but instead, it sounded like a mixture of concern and nervousness that you prayed Aramis couldn’t detect.
You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your head dip down while waiting for a sarcastic response. However, no words were spoken. Instead, you felt warm and calloused hands rest on your chin, gently tipping it up so you were forced to meet his gaze. Just as you were about to speak to break the tension, Aramis interrupted. “Can I kiss you?” The words fell from his lips before he had time to contemplate what he was saying.
Before you could think about what he had said, let alone your reaction, your lips were on his. The damp rag in your hand fell to the floor as you placed one of your hands on his cheek as the other made its way into his hair. His good arm found its way to your waist bringing you closer to him. The kiss was slow and gentle and filled with more passion than either of you had ever experienced. with its intensity growing the longer your lips stayed connected.
You were the first to pull away. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, “Aramis… I-I love you… and I know that we are good friends and I don’t want to mess things up and I understand if you don’t feel the same and-” before you could spiral any further you felt his lips on yours once more. You couldn’t help but melt into his touch
“Y/N I have loved you since the day you stitched my leg when I was just a recruit.” He held your face in his hand to ensure you could see his sincerity as he spoke. “You are one of the most amazing people I know. Yes, we are good friends, but I have wanted to be more than that for quite some time.” Pink dusted his cheeks as he confessed to you, “I want to be yours if you will have me, and I would love nothing more than for you to be mine.”
A smile graced your lips, and you wrapped your arms around Aramis’ neck and kissed him once more. As you parted, a giggle fell from you that left Aramis with a confused look, “what’s so funny?”
“Which one of us is telling the captain?”
As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!
𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜
