Humor - Joker - fürs Team
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120_minutenTeam: Hufflepuff
Challenge: Humor – Joker harte Schale, weicher Kern aus der Sommerchallenge 2013 – fürs Team
Fandom: The Musketeers
Titel: Gimme baby one more time
Inhalt: Athos has to keep an eye on Henri, the infant illegitimate heir to the French throne. Shenanigans and lots of love ensue.
Anmerkung: Story is in English! Ich habe meine eigenen Sommer-Challenge-Beiträge noch einmal gelesen und damit meine Liebe zu BBCs "The Musketeers" wieder entflammt. Zumindest kurzzeitig. Und nur für die erste Staffel. Okay, okay, alles, was ich wollte, war, Athos mit dem Baby, das sie in Folge 6 "The Exiles" retten müssen, interagieren zu sehen. Ich mag schmoopy kitsch <3.
Zur Übersicht über den Plot der Folge, weil die Szene hier direkt anschließt: Henri und seine Mutter Agnes werden von Bösewichten, namentlich Vincent und seinen Gefolgsleuten, verfolgt und die Musketiere inszenieren den Tod des Säuglings, damit sie ihn in Sicherheit bringen können. Aramis ist die ganze Folge ein nervliches Wrack, weil er das Baby so sehr lüüüübt.
Gimme baby one more time
“Are you sure he isn’t cold? It’s his favourite blanket and...”
“He will be fine. Go.”
“But what if...”
“Aramis.”
“...Right. Sorry.”
After another look between fondness and confusion at Baby Henri Aramis finally mounted his horse, trying to arrange the bundle of blankets in his arms into something remotely infant-shaped.
“Make sure you ride close to the railing. You have to drop him before anyone can get a clear look at him,” Athos said, holding Henri to his chest. The baby whimpered and struggled against his grip until the shiny buttons on Athos’ jacket caught his attention. “And calm the mother down. We don’t need to make him an orphan with our good intentions.”
Aramis nodded – and hesitated again. “You will keep him safe?”
Athos sighed. “If someone makes me a good enough offer, I’ll sell him on my way to Paris, but other than that… Now go.”
“A true friend,” Aramis mumbled but the mocking half-smile on Athos’ face finally convinced him to turn his horse around. The barrels of brandy that d'Artagnan and Porthos had stacked throughout the refugees' camp could explode any moment now and they had to make the best of the following confusion.
Athos peaked around the remaining barrels but it seemed that none of Vincent’s goons had spotted them so far. It was now or never. He took a deep breath and walked away from their hideout as fast and unsuspecting as a man with fifteen pounds of high treason in his arms could.
A second later the barrels exploded, people shouted, animals roared and Henri let loose an ear-piercing high pitched scream. Athos almost dropped him in shock.
“Should have seen that coming,” he groaned, as he gripped the terrified baby tighter and made a mad dash for the relative safety between the trees far to his right. To hell with subtlety, if Vincent’s men came after them Athos would be forced to surrender immediately.
He risked a glance back over his shoulder but so far no one seemed to have noticed them – people were running in every direction, sheer terror on their faces, and the smoke still shrouded the camp. If they were discovered Athos hoped that Vincent’s stooges had the presence of mind not to shoot him in the back, condemning Henri to being crushed underneath Athos’ body.
“If you are not silent, we’ll both end up in hell,” he told Henri who was still screaming at the top of his lungs. His face had gone red, snot and spit and tears were running down his cheeks. All things together Athos had never seen a more miserable helpless little creature.
Suddenly he could understand Aramis’ utter devotion to Agnes and her son. So much stubborn refusal to be silenced was indeed endearing.
He smiled fondly.
“Cry as much as you like,” he murmured, as he finally ducked into the shadows between two great oak trees. “Maybe you will get tired and sleep through all this misery and before you know it, you will have your mother back and your life. Cry, little one.”
In a manner truly befitting a French prince Henri immediately went against Athos’ proposition and calmed down in a matter of seconds. Maybe it was the silence between the trees broken by the cheery song of birds or maybe the babe had finally gotten over the shock of the explosion or maybe it was even Athos’ constant mumbling that prompted Henri to pipe down and look around with a sceptic expression on his face.
Or he just liked undermining the authority of soldiers, Athos thought good-naturedly. He was still smiling which surprised immensely. That was not like him at all.
It was one thing when Aramis would stare in awe when confronted with a baby because Aramis was in love with life and innocence and utterly convinced that everyone deserved their chance in life.
Athos had always assumed that it would take more than a babbling infant to calm the raging beast inside his own mind but obviously it didn’t. Who would have thought?
He found that he didn’t mind it much though and when Henri examined his own tiny little fists with such determination that he went cross-eyed Athos had to suppress the laughter bubbling up in his throat. It would be highly irreverent to laugh at the antics of a baby while its mother sobbed and mourned his apparent death some mere yards behind him.
Henri had no such qualms.
He turned his solemn gaze to Athos and started to babble animatedly while his busy fingers tugged at the gloves that Athos had stuffed in his belt and that were now caught between his belly and Henri’s hip.
“They won’t fit you, but go on,” Athos said before detangling one of the gloves. He waited until Henri’s grip tightened around one of the leathery fingers and let go - only to be rewarded with a joyful shriek. Henri wasted no time in stuffing the entire garment into his mouth and when it wouldn’t fit he alternated between chewing the glove and waving the spit-soaked thing around while giggling madly.
Athos shook his head. “That can’t possibly taste good,” he chided but Henri ignored him completely, blissfully sucking at the thumb. “Except if you got the one I dipped in brandy. Then by all means, go on, you have excellent taste.”
Henri laughed as if he had actually understood and Athos felt himself relax in a way that he had almost thought impossible. He had no illusions about the joys of parenthood as he still remembered his mother’s tired eyes during the first few months of Thomas’ life and she had been waited on by half a dozen servant girls. He could only imagine the strain on Agnes who was all alone in the world.
Right now though, as he looked at the contented baby’s face, he could understand why Aramis had thrown caution to the wind and was once again risking his life and honour for a romantic notion of justice. This right here was worth it and not even Athos was jaded enough not to see that.
“What a fool, don’t you think,” he mused but he wasn’t entirely sure whether he meant himself or Aramis. Henri didn’t judge either way and when Athos finally reached the clearing where they had left their horses, the baby’s babbling grew quieter and he huddled closer to Athos’ chest, the glove still clasped tightly between his fingers.
“Falling asleep already? Who is going to defend me then?”
Henri merely yawned.
Slowly Athos strode over to his horse who only spared him and the baby a bored look. Athos had considered riding on ahead but now he saw that there was no way that he could mount his horse with Henri still on his arms. He would probably not even be able to grip the reins properly. For a short distance it might work but Paris was almost half a day’s journey away if they rode swiftly and they couldn’t risk spending the night in the field with a hungry baby by their side. He’d have to make a sling of some sort.
“I should stuff you in the saddle bag,” Athos murmured. He snorted as he imagined Aramis’ reaction if he rode up to them only to see a pair of wee baby feet sticking out of the pouch behind Athos’ leg. As tempting as it was he decided magnanimously that Aramis had endured enough of their mockery for one day and went to fetch the old threadbare blanket from his saddle bag. It wasn’t the cleanest but neither was his glove and that hadn’t killed Henri yet if his deep breaths were anything to go by.
Making the sling took longer than expected and involved a lot more of trial and error than Athos cared to admit but right as he heard Porthos and d’Artagnan trampling through the bushes with all the subtlety of mad cows Henri lay tightly secured against his chest. The babe had slept through the whole ordeal and – even more impressive – through all of Athos’ muttered curses. He stood up and turned around, just in time to see Porthos let out a boisterous laugh.
“Have you seen Vincent’s face?”cried d’Artagnan, grinning from ear to ear. “He looked about ready to jump into the water and search for the body with his bare hands!”
“I would have paid good coin to see that,” Porthos agreed before raising his hand to wave at Athos. “How is the tot?”
“He’s asleep,” Athos answered. “But he won’t be for much longer if you don’t keep it down.”
Porthos rolled his eyes but a moment later he stepped up close to Athos to peak at Henri’s face. “Looks out cold to me. Is that your spare saddle rug?”
Athos preferred not to answer instead focussing his attention on d’Artagnan.
“What did you find?”
D’Artagnan shrugged. “Not much. Vincent’s men are riding down the river but so far they have only retrieved the blanket. We heard them say they’d take the road northwards if they didn’t find anything within the next hour. Agnes is still crying probably,” he added with a short, awkward gesture towards the baby. “She is…very convincing as a grieving mother.”
“Considering that she really doesn’t know that her son is alive and well… yeah she is,” Porthos said gruffly. He obviously disdained their deception but there was nothing they could do to sooth the mother’s pain right now. She might still be watched for all they knew and if this plan wasn’t to end with all of them hanged for high treason Agnes would have to suffer a bit longer.
Athos sighed. Porthos knew all of this as well as any of them so there was no need to discuss it any further. “Let’s move. Hold him for me”, he said to d’Artagnan, pointing at his horse.
“What about Aramis?” d’Artagnan asked, dutifully holding the reins as Athos mounted his horse with some difficulty, trying his hardest not to disturb the sling around his body too much.
“He found his way here, I trust him to come home as well,” Athos replied, right as Henri whimpered slightly, causing Athos to freeze on the spot. Carefully he reached between the blanket folds to caress Henri’s head and neck.
“Sleep, little one. It’s alright,” he said soothingly, cooing sweet nothings until Henri yawned and lay still again. Athos smiled – only noticing what he was doing when he caught sight of d’Artagnan’s mocking grin. He coughed slightly as he took the reins from him and made a point of not looking at his friends.
“Pray that he sleeps until we reach Paris.”
“Or what? Will you sing to him?”
Any answer Athos could have given would have been drowned out by Porthos’ bellowing laughter, so he just shrugged and made sure to nudge d’Artagnan in the shoulder as the boy walked past him.
They had not been on the road for more than half an hour when Aramis finally caught up with them.
“How is he? How is Henri?” he shouted as way of greeting when he was still yards away and it was just as well that none of Vincent’s men were following them or Athos would have been forced to chew Aramis out for blowing their cover so recklessly.
Porthos groaned. “You’d think he is the mother,” he quipped, throwing an exasperated look over his shoulder. D’Artagnan grinned, not even bothering to hide his mirth but Athos merely rolled his eyes although he was tempted to shout right back at Aramis.
“He is fine. Calm down or you’ll wake him up.”
As if Aramis hadn’t heard a word Athos said he rode right up to him, craning his neck to look inside the sling.
“Can you ride like that?” he asked with an almost frantic quality to his tone. “Shouldn’t we tie the horses together so you can hold him?”
It was utterly ridiculous how worried he was and Athos could have sworn that even Aramis’ mare was fed up with the antics of her rider.
“Let us make haste,” he simply answered. “Tréville needs to know what happened.”
Aramis merely looked at him dumbfounded as if the actual goal of this mission had completely escaped him. Athos couldn’t decide whether that was alarming or deeply touching.
“Yes, yes of course,” Aramis hurried to say. “It’s just… I could take him, you know if it’s too inconvenient for you?”
Definitely alarming, Athos concluded as he gave him a stern look.
“We still have a long way to go and we will not waste time with this. We can be grateful if he sleeps till we reach Paris.”
Aramis stared at him for a moment then he seemed to snap out of his paternal instinct induced haze. “Right. Of course. Let’s move on.”
Half an hour later Henri was screaming like a demon breaking from hell and Athos was ready to shoot either himself or Aramis just so he wouldn’t have to see his smug look anymore.
Challenge: Humor – Joker harte Schale, weicher Kern aus der Sommerchallenge 2013 – fürs Team
Fandom: The Musketeers
Titel: Gimme baby one more time
Inhalt: Athos has to keep an eye on Henri, the infant illegitimate heir to the French throne. Shenanigans and lots of love ensue.
Anmerkung: Story is in English! Ich habe meine eigenen Sommer-Challenge-Beiträge noch einmal gelesen und damit meine Liebe zu BBCs "The Musketeers" wieder entflammt. Zumindest kurzzeitig. Und nur für die erste Staffel. Okay, okay, alles, was ich wollte, war, Athos mit dem Baby, das sie in Folge 6 "The Exiles" retten müssen, interagieren zu sehen. Ich mag schmoopy kitsch <3.
Zur Übersicht über den Plot der Folge, weil die Szene hier direkt anschließt: Henri und seine Mutter Agnes werden von Bösewichten, namentlich Vincent und seinen Gefolgsleuten, verfolgt und die Musketiere inszenieren den Tod des Säuglings, damit sie ihn in Sicherheit bringen können. Aramis ist die ganze Folge ein nervliches Wrack, weil er das Baby so sehr lüüüübt.
Gimme baby one more time
“Are you sure he isn’t cold? It’s his favourite blanket and...”
“He will be fine. Go.”
“But what if...”
“Aramis.”
“...Right. Sorry.”
After another look between fondness and confusion at Baby Henri Aramis finally mounted his horse, trying to arrange the bundle of blankets in his arms into something remotely infant-shaped.
“Make sure you ride close to the railing. You have to drop him before anyone can get a clear look at him,” Athos said, holding Henri to his chest. The baby whimpered and struggled against his grip until the shiny buttons on Athos’ jacket caught his attention. “And calm the mother down. We don’t need to make him an orphan with our good intentions.”
Aramis nodded – and hesitated again. “You will keep him safe?”
Athos sighed. “If someone makes me a good enough offer, I’ll sell him on my way to Paris, but other than that… Now go.”
“A true friend,” Aramis mumbled but the mocking half-smile on Athos’ face finally convinced him to turn his horse around. The barrels of brandy that d'Artagnan and Porthos had stacked throughout the refugees' camp could explode any moment now and they had to make the best of the following confusion.
Athos peaked around the remaining barrels but it seemed that none of Vincent’s goons had spotted them so far. It was now or never. He took a deep breath and walked away from their hideout as fast and unsuspecting as a man with fifteen pounds of high treason in his arms could.
A second later the barrels exploded, people shouted, animals roared and Henri let loose an ear-piercing high pitched scream. Athos almost dropped him in shock.
“Should have seen that coming,” he groaned, as he gripped the terrified baby tighter and made a mad dash for the relative safety between the trees far to his right. To hell with subtlety, if Vincent’s men came after them Athos would be forced to surrender immediately.
He risked a glance back over his shoulder but so far no one seemed to have noticed them – people were running in every direction, sheer terror on their faces, and the smoke still shrouded the camp. If they were discovered Athos hoped that Vincent’s stooges had the presence of mind not to shoot him in the back, condemning Henri to being crushed underneath Athos’ body.
“If you are not silent, we’ll both end up in hell,” he told Henri who was still screaming at the top of his lungs. His face had gone red, snot and spit and tears were running down his cheeks. All things together Athos had never seen a more miserable helpless little creature.
Suddenly he could understand Aramis’ utter devotion to Agnes and her son. So much stubborn refusal to be silenced was indeed endearing.
He smiled fondly.
“Cry as much as you like,” he murmured, as he finally ducked into the shadows between two great oak trees. “Maybe you will get tired and sleep through all this misery and before you know it, you will have your mother back and your life. Cry, little one.”
In a manner truly befitting a French prince Henri immediately went against Athos’ proposition and calmed down in a matter of seconds. Maybe it was the silence between the trees broken by the cheery song of birds or maybe the babe had finally gotten over the shock of the explosion or maybe it was even Athos’ constant mumbling that prompted Henri to pipe down and look around with a sceptic expression on his face.
Or he just liked undermining the authority of soldiers, Athos thought good-naturedly. He was still smiling which surprised immensely. That was not like him at all.
It was one thing when Aramis would stare in awe when confronted with a baby because Aramis was in love with life and innocence and utterly convinced that everyone deserved their chance in life.
Athos had always assumed that it would take more than a babbling infant to calm the raging beast inside his own mind but obviously it didn’t. Who would have thought?
He found that he didn’t mind it much though and when Henri examined his own tiny little fists with such determination that he went cross-eyed Athos had to suppress the laughter bubbling up in his throat. It would be highly irreverent to laugh at the antics of a baby while its mother sobbed and mourned his apparent death some mere yards behind him.
Henri had no such qualms.
He turned his solemn gaze to Athos and started to babble animatedly while his busy fingers tugged at the gloves that Athos had stuffed in his belt and that were now caught between his belly and Henri’s hip.
“They won’t fit you, but go on,” Athos said before detangling one of the gloves. He waited until Henri’s grip tightened around one of the leathery fingers and let go - only to be rewarded with a joyful shriek. Henri wasted no time in stuffing the entire garment into his mouth and when it wouldn’t fit he alternated between chewing the glove and waving the spit-soaked thing around while giggling madly.
Athos shook his head. “That can’t possibly taste good,” he chided but Henri ignored him completely, blissfully sucking at the thumb. “Except if you got the one I dipped in brandy. Then by all means, go on, you have excellent taste.”
Henri laughed as if he had actually understood and Athos felt himself relax in a way that he had almost thought impossible. He had no illusions about the joys of parenthood as he still remembered his mother’s tired eyes during the first few months of Thomas’ life and she had been waited on by half a dozen servant girls. He could only imagine the strain on Agnes who was all alone in the world.
Right now though, as he looked at the contented baby’s face, he could understand why Aramis had thrown caution to the wind and was once again risking his life and honour for a romantic notion of justice. This right here was worth it and not even Athos was jaded enough not to see that.
“What a fool, don’t you think,” he mused but he wasn’t entirely sure whether he meant himself or Aramis. Henri didn’t judge either way and when Athos finally reached the clearing where they had left their horses, the baby’s babbling grew quieter and he huddled closer to Athos’ chest, the glove still clasped tightly between his fingers.
“Falling asleep already? Who is going to defend me then?”
Henri merely yawned.
Slowly Athos strode over to his horse who only spared him and the baby a bored look. Athos had considered riding on ahead but now he saw that there was no way that he could mount his horse with Henri still on his arms. He would probably not even be able to grip the reins properly. For a short distance it might work but Paris was almost half a day’s journey away if they rode swiftly and they couldn’t risk spending the night in the field with a hungry baby by their side. He’d have to make a sling of some sort.
“I should stuff you in the saddle bag,” Athos murmured. He snorted as he imagined Aramis’ reaction if he rode up to them only to see a pair of wee baby feet sticking out of the pouch behind Athos’ leg. As tempting as it was he decided magnanimously that Aramis had endured enough of their mockery for one day and went to fetch the old threadbare blanket from his saddle bag. It wasn’t the cleanest but neither was his glove and that hadn’t killed Henri yet if his deep breaths were anything to go by.
Making the sling took longer than expected and involved a lot more of trial and error than Athos cared to admit but right as he heard Porthos and d’Artagnan trampling through the bushes with all the subtlety of mad cows Henri lay tightly secured against his chest. The babe had slept through the whole ordeal and – even more impressive – through all of Athos’ muttered curses. He stood up and turned around, just in time to see Porthos let out a boisterous laugh.
“Have you seen Vincent’s face?”cried d’Artagnan, grinning from ear to ear. “He looked about ready to jump into the water and search for the body with his bare hands!”
“I would have paid good coin to see that,” Porthos agreed before raising his hand to wave at Athos. “How is the tot?”
“He’s asleep,” Athos answered. “But he won’t be for much longer if you don’t keep it down.”
Porthos rolled his eyes but a moment later he stepped up close to Athos to peak at Henri’s face. “Looks out cold to me. Is that your spare saddle rug?”
Athos preferred not to answer instead focussing his attention on d’Artagnan.
“What did you find?”
D’Artagnan shrugged. “Not much. Vincent’s men are riding down the river but so far they have only retrieved the blanket. We heard them say they’d take the road northwards if they didn’t find anything within the next hour. Agnes is still crying probably,” he added with a short, awkward gesture towards the baby. “She is…very convincing as a grieving mother.”
“Considering that she really doesn’t know that her son is alive and well… yeah she is,” Porthos said gruffly. He obviously disdained their deception but there was nothing they could do to sooth the mother’s pain right now. She might still be watched for all they knew and if this plan wasn’t to end with all of them hanged for high treason Agnes would have to suffer a bit longer.
Athos sighed. Porthos knew all of this as well as any of them so there was no need to discuss it any further. “Let’s move. Hold him for me”, he said to d’Artagnan, pointing at his horse.
“What about Aramis?” d’Artagnan asked, dutifully holding the reins as Athos mounted his horse with some difficulty, trying his hardest not to disturb the sling around his body too much.
“He found his way here, I trust him to come home as well,” Athos replied, right as Henri whimpered slightly, causing Athos to freeze on the spot. Carefully he reached between the blanket folds to caress Henri’s head and neck.
“Sleep, little one. It’s alright,” he said soothingly, cooing sweet nothings until Henri yawned and lay still again. Athos smiled – only noticing what he was doing when he caught sight of d’Artagnan’s mocking grin. He coughed slightly as he took the reins from him and made a point of not looking at his friends.
“Pray that he sleeps until we reach Paris.”
“Or what? Will you sing to him?”
Any answer Athos could have given would have been drowned out by Porthos’ bellowing laughter, so he just shrugged and made sure to nudge d’Artagnan in the shoulder as the boy walked past him.
They had not been on the road for more than half an hour when Aramis finally caught up with them.
“How is he? How is Henri?” he shouted as way of greeting when he was still yards away and it was just as well that none of Vincent’s men were following them or Athos would have been forced to chew Aramis out for blowing their cover so recklessly.
Porthos groaned. “You’d think he is the mother,” he quipped, throwing an exasperated look over his shoulder. D’Artagnan grinned, not even bothering to hide his mirth but Athos merely rolled his eyes although he was tempted to shout right back at Aramis.
“He is fine. Calm down or you’ll wake him up.”
As if Aramis hadn’t heard a word Athos said he rode right up to him, craning his neck to look inside the sling.
“Can you ride like that?” he asked with an almost frantic quality to his tone. “Shouldn’t we tie the horses together so you can hold him?”
It was utterly ridiculous how worried he was and Athos could have sworn that even Aramis’ mare was fed up with the antics of her rider.
“Let us make haste,” he simply answered. “Tréville needs to know what happened.”
Aramis merely looked at him dumbfounded as if the actual goal of this mission had completely escaped him. Athos couldn’t decide whether that was alarming or deeply touching.
“Yes, yes of course,” Aramis hurried to say. “It’s just… I could take him, you know if it’s too inconvenient for you?”
Definitely alarming, Athos concluded as he gave him a stern look.
“We still have a long way to go and we will not waste time with this. We can be grateful if he sleeps till we reach Paris.”
Aramis stared at him for a moment then he seemed to snap out of his paternal instinct induced haze. “Right. Of course. Let’s move on.”
Half an hour later Henri was screaming like a demon breaking from hell and Athos was ready to shoot either himself or Aramis just so he wouldn’t have to see his smug look anymore.
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no subject
Date: 2016-07-09 05:00 pm (UTC)ATHOS DOING EVERYTHING TO BE A BAD INFLUENCE AS EARLY AS POSSIBLE
THIS IS GREAT
I LOVE EVERYTHING
no subject
Date: 2016-07-09 05:44 pm (UTC)Like d'Art thought this business was a good way to meet girls (especially Constance, although he kinda forgot that Constance doesn't have a baby yet that needs to be supervised).
He roped Aramis into this because Aramis heard "BABIES" and "maybe some people need help" and was ALL OVER THIS NOBLE PLAN, sadly he has no clue how to change diapers or take care of infants in general, so he is more... ethusiasm and no skill whatsoever. he gets the most new customers and almost NO recurring ones (apart from parents who slip him their number ;D)
Porthos is just there for the food and because d'Art promised to do his chores for like three months (doesn't matter that d'Art is some grades below them, wrong homework turned in is still better than no homework turned in :D)
and Athos has no clue how he ended up there, he just has this gIANT CRUSH ON d'ART AND CAN'T SAY NO TO HIM EVER AND THAT'S WHY HE IS CURRENTLY WEARING A CLOWN COSTUME AND ENTERTAINING ELEVEN TODDLERS FOR A BIRTHDAY PARTY :D
no subject
Date: 2016-07-09 06:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-09 06:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-09 07:54 pm (UTC)