bisexualmilady replied to your post “I know this might get ignored but I woke up in a really great mood so...”
i am.... maybe... suggesting conflea/porthos....
I’m shocked you’d asked for this. shocked I say.
The bed was empty when Flea woke up in the middle of the night, the sheets next to her weren’t even warm which meant that Constance had left a while ago.
She sighed and sat up and wrapped the blanket around, trudging through the house in search of Constance and finding her pouring over documents she’d received from Treville earlier that day.
“Constance.” Flea rested her hand on Constance’s shoulder. When she got no response she tried for something that always elicited a reaction. “Connie.” Sure enough Constance sent her a dirty look that promised retribution but now that she had Constance’s attention she grinned. “Come back to bed.”
Constance looked a little guilty at that, averting her gaze away from Flea.
“Am I not better company than some papers?” Flea asked, letting the blanket slip purposely just a little.
“Flea…” Constance began but shook her head. “I’m sorry, yes.” She stood and caught Flea’s hand. “Let’s go back to bed.”
They made it down the hallway and into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed with exhausted sighs. She could tell that Constance’s mind was still going however and reached out to pull Constance closer to her, ending up with Constance resting her head in the crook between Flea’s neck and shoulder. She rubbed circles down Constance’s back, humming an old song that was her last link to her mother.
Constance’s breathing evened out and Flea closed her eyes, letting sleep call back to her as well.
Chances were Constance would be gone in the morning, off to save Paris once more, but for now she was in Flea’s arms and everything between them was perfectly fine.
Florist!Flea and Tattooist Artist!Constance for sweetlyfez and vicomtesse; also over here on Ao3
It was certainly nicer than places the she had lived before and Flea knew it despite all her complaints when Porthos had first dragged her to see it.
Like most shops on this street it had an open ground floor for setting up whatever supplies your store might carry and the upstairs could be used as an apartment, right now the shipment she had ordered hadn’t arrived yet; still too early in the morning but there was a rose waiting for her on a newly set up counter desk.
That meant Porthos must have shown up at some time over the night to do that, he’d been overly involved in helping her out which wasn’t in her mind a bad thing. It was Porthos that had pushed her to try this venture too.
The shelves and cases were all set up, ready for her to place the flowers on when they arrived, everything upstairs had yet to finish being unpacked but she didn’t want to go up and possibly miss her shipment somehow.
A knock on the door had her head shooting up, dropping the rose she had been fiddling with back on the counter.
At the door was a redheaded woman, wearing jeans and a long sleeved white blouse and carrying a tray with what looked like coffee cups from the shop down the street.
She waved the woman in, stepping around the counter at the same time and the bell above the door jingled as it opened.
“Well this isn’t bad, I suppose it’s the same set up as my shop; much more open though.” Blue eyes, a darker shade than her own, crinkled as the woman smiled.
She held up the tray she was carrying, “Porthos said you took your coffee with one cream and one sugar but I brought some extra just in case.”
Flea blinked, resting against the counter and taking in the red headed woman curiously, whomever she was she obviously knew Porthos and about her.
“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage.” Flea hated to be at one, her tone bordering on defensive. At another time she might have opened up with flirting but there was too much about this woman coming in she wasn’t sure about.
“Ah, yes,” The red head at least had the dignity to look embarrassed by that, “I forgot you might not know me, I’m Constance. I work with Porthos next door.”
Constance offered Flea her hand with a wide smile and Flea took it, thinking.
Porthos had told her about Constance, whom actually owned the tattoo shop that he worked for part time; the whole reason he knew about this shop space opening up was because he’d been there when it had.
Constance however, looked nothing like someone who would own a tattoo shop with her long curly red hair that fell in her face to frame it, looking more like someone who would work at a clothing store at the mall.
She did however see a peek of a tattoo from under the sleeve that fell down her arm a bit during the handshake.
“You don’t look like a tattooist, no offense.” Flea told her regardless, now that she had seen a hint however her eyes kept looking over Constance for clues of other tattoos.
“You don’t look like a florist,” Constance snorted, “No offense.”
That was fair enough, with her ever present tattered hair and the t-shirt she had just tugged on that morning without looking at it (a quick glance down showed her it was thankfully just a faded gray one, though also it was roughly stitched together in places.) and tight jeans she probably more fit the view of tattooist than Constance did.
Flea shrugged, “I’m full of surprises.”
It was easy to offer a smirk then, give Constance a once over that left little to the imagination, and the red head rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.
“Don’t be as bad as Aramis.” Flea heard her say under her breath.
Grabbing the coffee that had been brought from her from the tray she blew on it and then took a sip.
“I take offense that.” Flea had met Aramis. “No one is a bad as him.”
Constance laughed at that and Flea’s eyes widened in surprise because she hadn’t been expecting how Constance would look at that, with a grin that lit up the empty shop and her hair dancing teasingly over her neck in the movement.
She had a sudden wish her shop was filled with flowers just so she could see what Constance looked like surrounded by them.
She always did like pretty things.
Growing up flowers had been the few things she had taken to, making sure the jar in her room in the foster home was always filled with the wild daisies that grew in the yard.
“I have to admit, I was curious to meet you.” Constance took her own cup from the tray, “Porthos talks about you a lot and he says you’re the reason he’s so good at drawing flowers.”
She leaned in, dropping her voice to a whisper, “Don’t tell him I said it but I’m a bit envious, never my specialty.”
Flea arched an eyebrow in a quiet question.
Constance shrugged, “I like designing things, everything else I’m fine with to picture in my head, flowers not so much.”
Flea knew there was more of a story there but she opted to let it go, taking another sit from her cup.
“Thank you for the coffee.”
Constance’s smile was sadly hidden by the rim of her cup but was there all the same.
“Welcome to the neighbourhood.”
~~
She helped Flea unpack when the first shipment of flowers arrived, waving off Flea’s protests by saying she’d be bored until her work opened up for the day anyway.
“It’s a lot brighter in here now.” Constance looked around the room, Flea hummed in answer, not really paying attention and too busy arranging the flowers to catch people’s eyes.
She tried not to take too much notice that she was arranging the flowers around Constance despite that the woman wouldn’t be there soon enough. As it was she subtly pushed the gladiolus’ to the right of her to help bring out even more of the red of her hair.
“I think I should get going though.”
“Oh.” Flea frowned, she took quick steps towards the desk, grabbing the red rose off it and walked back to Constance, presenting it to her with a warm smile.
“As a thank you. And to help inspire you to draw flowers better.”
Constance flushed, taking the rose and mumbling a thank you.
“Come by again. I can always offer you more inspiration.” Flea called out, turning to walk away, hips swaying and when she glanced behind her she could see Constance watching right before the other woman turned and left.
~~
A week later her flower shop had been doing quite while despite it just opening. A lot of people who came with friends or lovers to get their tattoos done ended up buying flowers and some kind of object to ease the pain.
Or that’s what she assumed.
She was idly flipping through a flower magazine and considering if she should order anything new next week when the door jingled again.
“Welcome to Blooming Petals,” Porthos had guffawed loudly when she had given it that name, “how can I- oh, Constance. What brings you here?”
Flea rested her chin on her hand, elbow on the counter.
Constance raised a now familiar tray that she brought over and set down in front of Flea.
“I had some time, Porthos is watching the shop and it’s a quiet day. Thought we could both use a pick me up.”
Flea hummed her agreement, eyeing Constance.
“Still trying to find them?”
A few days ago Constance had told her she had several tattoos but aside from the swirls on her wrists, her first attempt of tattoos that Constance had opted to try on herself, Flea hadn’t been able to see any.
That Constance kept wearing those long blouses, with the buttons just left open enough to show a hint of skin and dip downwards in a tempting trail but not enough to see anything else didn’t help in anyway but to drive Flea mad.
“One day I will.” Flea batted her eyelashes teasingly, “Could help if you’d slip out of those clothes for me.”
Constance rolled her eyes as she usually did in the wake of Flea’s flirting.
“Just you wait Connie.” She dropped the shorted name without thinking but the annoyed look she got was amusing, Constance’s nostrils flaring and her brow furrowing.
“Do not call me that.”
Constance groaned when she saw Flea’s delighted grin, nothing good could come of that.
~~
Despite that she had been there for a month she had been so busy she hadn’t had time to even step over to the shop next to her to see Constance at work, so when she closed up that day and saw the lights of Constance’s shop still on she slipped in, curious.
Constance hair was up, braided and twisted into a bun with some of her hair trickling down the back of her neck, bent over in concentration as she worked on someone’s arm with ease.
The constant buzz in the air was strangely soothing, reminding Flea when she had received her first tattoo with Porthos back when they were still teenagers, a tiny sparrow on her ankle.
Constance must have sensed someone was behind her and looked over, grinning once she saw Flea and mouthing ‘five minutes’ to her.
The red head would have made a good doctor, Flea mused, Constance was gentle with her hands and the needle, letting the person in the chair know whenever she was going to be moving them for a different angle.
She was done soon enough, cashing the person out while telling them how to take care of it and then turned to Flea.
“You want your own turn in the chair? On the house.” Constance offered, waving her hand towards it.
Flea raised an eyebrow, “Hoping to practice flowers on me?”
Constance eyes lit up at that and though Flea was mostly teasing it was actually tempting just to see what Constance could do..
“I had been hoping to see if you wanted dinner, I’ve been open for month, I want a celebration.” Flea stood up, leaning in close to Constance, “Though I suppose tattoo’s like a celebration. Let’s see what you’ve got, Connie.”
“You don’t have anything in mind?”
Flea shucked off her shirt, leaving her only in her bra and marching to the chair.
“Surprise me.”
~~
“It’s not bad at all.” Flea squinted at the newly minted tattoo in the mirror, almost trying to twist her neck to get a better angle of the patch of roses on her shoulder. “Dare I ask why roses?”
Constance’s cheeks were a bit pink, “It was the only reference I had.”
She hit Flea on the opposite shoulder of the tattoo as the other woman laughed uproariously.
“So, feel celebrated yet?” Constance hoisted herself up on the counter. “Congratulations on that by the way.”
Flea grinned, “Could use some alcohol. A bit more worshipping that I made it. A decent meal.”
Constance snorted, “Alcohol and a meal I can help with, the worshipping you’re all on your own though I don’t think your ego needs it.”
In a fit of impish amusement Flea stepped into Constance’s space, throwing her arms around her and ignoring the ache in her shoulder when she did that, and pressed her cheek against Constance’s.
“Now Constance that’s not the worship I was talking about though I will take you up on that meal.”
Constance laughed, pushing her away, “All right, all right, upstairs with you.”
“So if I’m good do I get worship?”
“If you’re good I’ll help you put cream on that new tattoo.” Constance retorted easily, slipping off the counter and walking over to lock the door and close up her shop.
“How romantic.” Flea sighed overdramatically, a quick look of bemusement from Constance shot her way.
~~
“You need something to brighten up this place.” Flea stood in the centre of Constance’s apartment, still shirtless and taking everything in.
“Like flowers?” The pot banging on the stove right after had Flea curiously looking into the kitchenette where Constance was making them pasta.
“Yes, just like that.” She’d already plotted out different areas where she would put them in her head, over on the windowsill for instance she’d put a Stargazer lily as it could enjoy the summer sun best there.
“So,” Flea watched her stir the pasta, “Do I get to hear why you chose being a tattooist.”
Constance shrugged, “Like I said, I like designing; good with my hands too. I actually started working at a shop to help pay for college and never stopped, a few years later I found myself owning my own shop, simple as that.”
“And…” Flea rolled her hand in the air, prompting Constance on.
Constance sighed, “And it made the man my parents wanted me to marry mad.”
“Take it you enjoyed pissing him off?”
“Immensely.” She sounded smug about that.
“What happened to him?” Flea would be lying if she said she wasn’t fishing for relationship details.
Constance looked back behind her, shaking her head and smiling, obviously aware what Flea was doing.
“We thankfully broke it off. I spent some time dating Anne who was in the same class as me, had a fling with d’Artagnan later. What about you, you and Porthos ever…”
“Once. Well, more than once.” Flea grinned unrepentant when Constance rolled her eyes, “Charon and I had a thing for while until he decided to get himself arrested in a foolish stunt. I dated Porthos’ ex-girlfriend Alice for a little bit, though that was mostly just to his face.”
“He laughed?”
“A lot. Alice was good sport about it too.”
“And now here you are.”
“Yes. In your living room.” Flea rested her crossed arms on the small kitchen counter. “Shirtless.”
“Can we at least eat first?” Constance shot her a pointed look.
Flea’s stomach growled at that moment at the mention of food and she buried her face in her hands to hind the heat that rose to her cheeks.
“That might be best.”
~~
It was far too hot in Constance’s bedroom in the summer heat at night but Flea didn’t care, even with one arm strewn across her.
“Well I definitely know where your tattoos are now.”
Constance dragged her close to kiss her again, lazily now and unlike the heated kisses from only moments before, both of them exhausted.
“I think I need some new ones. Maybe flowers.” Constance’s soft curls brushed against her cheek as she rested her head in the crook of Flea’s neck. “Any ideas?”
“A few.” Flea trailed a hand down Constance’s hips, “Maybe some cleome hassleraina right here.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Oh you know,” Flea lips quirked upwards though Constance couldn’t see it. “Elope with me.”
“Flea!”
“I was kidding!” Flea laughed. “Maybe gloxinia instead.”
“What does that mean, get married in Vegas?” Constance drawled sardonically.
“Love at first sight.”
“Hm,” Constance tugged at a lock of Flea’s blonde hair, “That one’s not bad, tell me more.”
By the time they had fallen asleep Flea felt like she had described every flower in her shop; curled up with Constance and feeling more than grateful she’d chosen to set up shop there.
Porthos + Flea, Bakery AU; Conflea, Star Trek AU (please oh please if you have the time + inclination)
“She a stowaway.”
At Treville’s words Constance and Porthos exchanged an uneasy glance from across the bridge. In front of Treville Flea didn’t look worried at all.
“Sir,” Constance took a step forward before Porthos could try a halting lie that he would feel guilty over later, “Flea and I were roommates back at the academy, I’m sure this is all just a mistake but well…”
She gestured at the viewscreen that held unfamiliar stars; their one way trip to the Delta quadrant meant none of their nav systems were working properly as nothing in that quadrant had been mapped out.
“I think we need all the hands on deck we can get. She is Starfleet, graduated same time as several of us.”
Flea looked behind her shoulder, shooting Constance an unrepentantly cheery grin.
“Fine,” Treville sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “But as we’re limited on space she’ll have to bunk with you. Someone find her a uniform.”
Constance grabbed Flea’s hand as she attempted to give Treville a lazy salute, dragging the other woman towards the turbolift.
“Do I even want to know how you got on here? Or, or,” Constance felt like she could hardly talk she was so furious, “Why are you here Flea?”
Flea shrugged, “I jus’ wanted to see what all the fuss of this ship was about. Wasn’t expecting to get stranded or anything like that.”
Constance hands tightened on the bars of the turbolift, teeth gritting.
“Look on the bright side Connie,” Flea leaned into her space, all smiles. “We get to bunk together again.”
“You never clean up the room that is hardly a bright side.” Constance snorted. “And do not call me Connie.”
Flea looked all the smug for that.
~~
The problem with finding a spot for Flea on the ship was that she had never declared a major at the Academy. She had taken all the prerequisite classes needed to pass but never had a clear cut path; it was the only reason she hadn’t been assigned a ship.
“Perhaps comms will be best.” Constance mused at breakfast that morning, Flea dressed in her spare uniform.
The blue didn’t suit her; the fashion mindedness in Constance quietly thought that only greens and browns and the occasional purple suited Flea right but there were no such uniforms like that anyway.
“Could always join Porthos in security. I could go on away teams with you then.” Flea struggled to tame her hair into a bun; no matter what she did it always ended up knotting.
“No. Absolutely not.” Constance replied sharply; as second in the Medbay she was allowed on more missions than Lemay, in case of emergencies. But the thought of Flea on one of the away teams, down on the planet where the air might not even be breathable at a moments notice or aliens could be hostile had a twist in her gut.
Next to her Anne raised an eyebrow and Constance bit her lip to not curse the fact that her friend was half Betazoid and could probably feel the emotions stirring in her.
She ignored the ships counselors attempts to catch her eyes and focused instead on Flea again.
“Now eat your breakfast, we’ll be late to report in at rate.”
~~
She hadn’t won in the end really, Treville put Flea on a rotating shift to help out different departments at they needed it.
It meant that the thing she had been dreading came too soon, the shuttle both she and Flea were on touching down on the planet they were to explore for supplies.
“Hey.” Flea sidled up to her, wearing yellow this time which suited her only a little better than the blue. “Think that fruit is edible.”
“Don’t try it.” Constance told her, scanning it with a tricorder anyway just in case the blonde did.
Flea’s head fell onto her shoulder with an exasperated sigh.
“You’re no fun Connie.”
She didn’t have to see Flea’s pout to know it was there.
~~
“I think I told you not to eat it.” Constance jabbed the hypospray into Flea’s neck without remorse. She pretended it was that and not the worry at least.
Flea shrugged, her vocal cords rendered temporarily useless.
“You just had to be allergic.” Constance sighed, shaking her head and muttering darkly under her breath.
“Ah Constance, do give your girlfriend a break.” Lemay called to her from the back room, far too jovial.
Flea nodded, smiling weakly and pointing in Lemay’s direction as if edging her to agree with him.
“She’s not my girlfriend.” Constance called back, but as she checked the damages still done to Flea she ran a hand gently down her neck, telling herself it was just to calm Flea.
Flea raised an eyebrow and leered.
“You could not be.” Constance retorted in the silent debate. “Now sit still least you do more damage.”
At least Flea was still alive, she could take comfort in that.
~~
“Constance.” A voice rasped above her and Constance groaned.
“Computer, lights at 20 percent.” She muffled into a pillow and looked up, blinking against the still too bright lights to see Flea above her.
“You’re supposed to be on the other bed.” She murmured, glancing at the one that had been put in the corner of her room.
Flea shrugged.
“I like yours.” Her vocal cords must still have been hurting by the way she said it so quietly and Constance just sighed, moving over to allow Flea to burrow under the blankets with her.
“You owe me for this.” She said sleepily, slurring most of the words.
Flea’s arms wrapped around her and a nose pressed against her collarbone; they both drifted off that way.
~~
“You know I came for you right?” Flea looked up from the datapad in her hand.
Constance stopped her own work, carefully setting the padd down.
“Flea…”
“I just had a feeling something bad was going to happen. Couldn’t leave you to it.”
There was no doubt that Flea believed that. That she had been proven right had Constance wondering if perhaps the blonde had some kind of precognitive abilities through alien DNA.
“I didn’t want to leave you either.” She admitted, colour high on her cheekbones. “Didn’t seem right exploring places without you, I asked the Captain to assign you to this ship.”
“You did?” Flea brightened up immensely.
Constance nodded slowly.
The next thing she knew she had a lapful of Flea and was being kissed soundly.
“I knew you loved me.” Flea pulled back, licking her lips. “Now about those places you didn’t want to explore without me…”
Constance rolled her eyes at the innuendo and pulled Flea back in; it was a better plan anyway.
send me an au from this list + a pairing for a drabble/ficlet
okay Anastasia’s not technically a disney movie but just go with it…
~~
Flea’s hand kept slipping on her hip much to Porthos’annoyance.
“Well ye’re not going to be able to dance much like that.”He commented, crossing his arms and both Constance and Flea shot him an annoyedlook.
It was perhaps the first time they had really been in syncthe whole trip to England to proclaim Constance the lost princess.
“Just keep your hand there Flea, at least to shut him up.”Constance muttered under her breath so only Flea could hear her, pulling herown hand away from Flea’s shoulder to reach down and place Flea’s hand on herhips again.
The problem wasn’t really that Flea couldn’t keep her handthere, it was how much she wanted to and that’s why she kept pulling it away.
The salty air of the sea around them wasn’t doing anythingto clear her head from the sight of Constance before her, cleaned up anddressed up like she hadn’t been before.
And then Porthos had decided it was a perfect opportunity tohave Flea teach her to dance, winking at her when she protested and not givingher much of an option.
Constance’s hand fell on her shoulder again and Flea took asharp breath, reminding herself that nothing good could come of this. No matterhow good Constance looked there and then or how right the dance felt at the endof the day this was a con. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Except…with Constance eyes softening when they looked atFlea her heart leapt to her throat and not for the first time in her life Fleawanted more.
ooh! [jumps up and down] how about a "camp counselors at the same sleep-away camp" au with conflea, with constance as the strict counselor whose groups of kids always get in fights with the carefree counselor flea's kids?
A hand falls across her shoulders and Constance doesn’t look over at Flea at all, refusing to give the other woman the satisfaction in riling her up again, instead holding in the sigh so she also doesn’t blow the whistle that’s kept loosely between her lips.
She can tell Flea is looking at right at her despite her dark sunglasses, it’s like she’s developed a sixth sense that’s all Flea over the past few weeks.
“You know Connie there are other, far more interesting, things to blow than that whistle.”
That makes her roll her eyes, letting the whistle fall from her lips and finally looking over at Flea whose smile is smug as Constance builds herself up for a rant, starting with of course:
“Don’t call me Connie-”
The cheering on the field stops her, turning to see Flea’s cabin yelling and high fiving. She has no doubt they pulled some illegal move while she was looking away in those brief seconds.
Flea’s arm tightens on her shoulder, gleefully calling congratulations to her girls.
“Please don’t tell me that you’re teaching them to cheat.”
“Connie!”
“What did I just say...” She sighs.
“I’m hurt!” Flea pouts, holding her other hand up to her heart. “I would never cheat.”
“Like you didn’t at cards last night?”
She’s still determined to beat Flea fair and square one day. It’s the only reason she still plays. Nothing at all to do with how Flea shucks off her shirt with ease, proclaiming the cabin to hot and sits far too close than should be allowed for two people playing cards.
Flea drops her head onto Constance’s shoulder, her blonde hair made lighter by the sun shining down on them and tickling Constance’s cheek.
“Surely someday I’ll convince you of my innocence.”
She barely refrains from snorting, only because at that moment her team scores a goal, still in the lead and she smiles brightly, clapping for them.
One glance at her watch has her blowing the whistle however.
“Craft time!” She calls out to the girls, ignoring the groans, including the one from Flea.
“Oh come on Connie, let them have their fun out here if they still want to.”
Flea somehow sidles up closer, raising her head and their lips are practically touching and this close she can barely make out Flea’s eyes through those sunglasses but knows they’re an imploring blue.
“Please? I’ll behave today.”
It’s a combination of how Flea says it coupled with how close she is, making Constance dizzy and distracted, turning away with a huff.
“All right, just this once.”
Flea brightens with ease, leaning up to press a kiss to Constance’s cheek and calling down to the girls they can continue on with their game.
“Flea!” That is not at all behaving, it also hasn’t escaped her notice that she doesn’t tag that on in protest, quietly giving Flea leeway to continue.
“What?” The blonde woman doesn’t at all look apologetic.
“I…could have told the girls. Why do you always have to look like the fun one?” Constance grumbles.
“Oh Connie.” The hand on her shoulder falls to her waist. “I’m sure you’re plenty fun.”
rodlox prompted: Constance/Flea "Why are you pulling an Athos?"
“Dare I ask why you’re pulling an Athos?” Flea stepped quietly in to the house, coming up short when she saw Constance sitting at the table with a bottle of brandy next to her and an untouched glass, merely drinking straight from the source.
“Because all the men are idiots.”
“Well. I’m certain you already knew that, but what have they done today to upset your delicate sensibilities?” Flea sat down across from her and yanked the bottle from her hand to pour herself a drink in the glass.
Constance scowled and took the bottle back, pointing it accusingly at Flea. “I will get you back for that comment. ‘Delicate sensibilities.’ Like I haven’t dealt with blood as much as they have these days.” Constance brought the bottle to her lips, tipping it up and taking a swig that would have made Porthos proud. “Guess what news I found out today.”
Flea arched an eyebrow, waving a hand to encourage Constance to go on.
“Aramis impregnated the Queen.”
Flea choked on her drink, sputtering and coughing. “What?”
Constance was nodding, “Oh yes, the moron has done the stupidest thing possible. Somehow-” Constance was waving her hand, alcohol splashing on the table from the bottle. “And I don’t know how – but I’m going to have to fix this.”
“You’re going to have to fix that Aramis got the Queen pregnant. Constance you’re good, you’re not a miracle.”
“I can be a miracle if I want Flea. Watch me.” Constance slammed the bottle on the table and stood up on wobbling legs, woozy with the alcohol flowing in her system. She took one step forward and crashed face first in the ground.
Flea peered over the table, “Mother was a swan I can see.”
“Shut up,” Constance’s voice was muffled from the floor. She raised a hand and pointed a finger somewhere in Flea’s direction. “You’re helping me.”
“I am?”
Constance rose a bit, glassy eyes wavering over Flea’s form. “Yes. I’m going to apply as a Queen’s maidservant. You’re coming with me.”
“That’s a terrible plan. You’re better at this when you’re sober.”
“It’s a better plan than getting her pregnant.”
“I assure you Constance, if you ever slept with the Queen pregnancy would be out of the question.” Flea knelt down, drawing her friend up.
Constance fell back down soundly in her lap, peering upwards and smiling. Her hand amazingly didn’t shake as she reached up to brush one of Flea’s braids in her hair. “I could sleep with a Queen.”
Flea chuckled. “That you could. But perhaps when you don’t smell like Athos.”
Flea got no answer, Constance already drifting off in her lap. Flea sighed, but sat there till her legs started numbing and she stood to drag Constance to the bedroom; wriggling under the covers with her and wondering how much of this Constance would remember come morning.
ladykatana4544 prompted: Constance/Flea, the moment Porthos noticed there was something brewing between two of his friends~~~~~
When the lower quarters came to be endangered again and they required someone to sneak in to the house where the kegs of gun powder were being stored, the obvious choice was Constance. Not that she saw it as the obvious choice but she had agreed due to people being endangered anyway and donned her ‘prostitute’ dress once more. They argued she shouldn’t go alone and Porthos had thought the idea simple when he suggested that Flea go with her.
The Musketeers waited for the signal from either one to charge in, growing more and more restless by the second until both Constance and Flea stepped out telling them the situation had been taken care of and they could clean up the mess, the two of them were going for drinks.
Since that moment Constance had headed in to the lower quarters more and more, occasionally Porthos or even with the other Musketeers, and they would meet up with Flea and walk in to a tavern. The two of them would inch their chairs close together, Flea’s arm resting on the back of Constance’s as she leaned in to whisper something that had them grinning and snickering.
It’s one of those such moments that Porthos notices that Flea’s hand has come up to wrap around Constance’s barred shoulder, thumb moving lightly to brush circles against her skin. Constance hand is resting on Flea’s thigh, like it’s been put there to catch her balance and breath from the laughter but left there for too long.
Porthos takes a swig from his cup, considering. A quick glance at the others at the table shows they haven’t been paying attention and Porthos wonders if even Flea and Constance know what they’re doing and how it appears. He sees Flea bring her other hand up to push a lock of Constance hair back in place, hovering closer still; sees Constance catch Flea’s eyes and they both freeze. He coughs loudly, like he’s choked on his drink and set the cup down with a clang that jolts them from their stare. He wants them both to be happy, but this tavern may not be the best time or place.
They spend the rest of the night glancing at each other and then looking away. When it’s time to leave Porthos makes his way over to Flea and Constance, loudly suggesting that Constance looks tired and perhaps she should stay the night her with Flea. This has Flea getting closer in Constance’s space, eyes narrowing in concern as she looks over Constance and says Porthos might be right. They walk off and from his view Porthos can see their hands brushing up against each other, fingers curling and mostly hidden in the recesses of their skirts. He walks back to the garrison with the others; merely smirking when they ask why he’s in such a good mood. Let them figure it out themselves of Constance and Flea tell them; he’ll keep quiet for now and give them this peace.
