Summary: Daft fluff and smut because it's been a hard week and I needed cheering up. Almost but not entirely unrelated to evilmaniclaugh's prompt: "Modern AU. Athos is a rubbish cook and Porthos tries to teach him. It gets fun and messy." More closely related to this.
Athos stumbled blearily into the kitchen, taking a moment out of his hangover to appreciate the rear view of a naked man rifling his cupboards.
He considered a number of opening gambits, then decided it was too early and he was too headachy for any attempt at wit and settled on a simple "Morning."
"Why don't you own any food?" Porthos demanded without looking round. He closed the cupboard door and opened the fridge, glaring inside at the three bottles of white wine, carton of milk and two solitary eggs that made up the contents.
Athos took a seat at the table and admired the view that was Porthos bending over directly in front of him.
"Because I can't cook. Why would I buy things I can't do anything with?"
"How are you not dead?" Porthos took the milk out and put it on the side, opening the cupboard again with exasperated purpose.
"There's a perfectly good cafe round the corner. And I have the local takeaways on speed dial," Athos informed him without a hint of shame. He watched Porthos reach for a cereal box and winced. "Ah, that might - "
It was too late, Porthos had already discovered it was empty and was brandishing it at him.
"Who puts empty boxes back in the bloody cupboard?"
"Well. Me." Athos shrugged. "It's not like there's normally anyone else here for it to annoy."
Porthos looked round for a recycling box with increasing hopelessness and was finally forced to shove it in the bin. He opened the milk and sniffed it cautiously, finding to his surprise it was actually fresh. "Have you got any flour?"
"Flour?" Athos looked up in bemusement, then frowned. "Actually I might have. Top cupboard. Don't ask me how long it's been in there though." He'd bought it after watching a baking show whilst drunk and getting all enthusiastic about actually making a cake. He'd woken up hungover and remembering that he had no idea how to set about it, and the bag had languished in the cupboard ever since.
"That'll do." Porthos set it down by the milk and came over. Athos stood up to meet him. He realised Porthos' hair was damp, and he'd obviously showered before Athos had woken up. Early riser. Morning person. That wasn't good. It would never work.
"Why do you want flour?" Athos asked, scratching his beard.
"Go and shower," Porthos told him. "You'll find out when you come back."
"What if I don't want to shower?" Athos protested.
Porthos hooked open the front of Athos' dressing gown and gave him a sniff. "You could do with one," he said frankly.
Athos gathered his robe more tightly round him with an indignant glare. "That was low. This is my flat anyway, who put you in charge?"
"Do you want some breakfast?" Porthos asked, slowly and deliberately.
Athos looked mutinous.
"Do you want more sex?"
"Then go and shower."
Athos did as he was told. The experience woke him up slightly, and he even trimmed his beard and brushed his hair before venturing back into the kitchen. To his surprise Porthos had set the table neatly for two, and was just sliding a last crepe pancake from the pan onto a steaming stack of them.
Porthos beamed at him, pleased with the effect and the rather stunned look on Athos' face.
"Tuck in," he invited. "Before they get cold."
He took the seat opposite, still naked, and Athos smirked at him. "Isn't it dangerous, tossing pancakes with your bits out?"
"Not if you know what you're doing," Porthos mumbled through a mouthful. "I'd not recommend you try it," he added with a grin.
"Charming." Athos made a face, but was soon smiling again as he worked his way through his plateful. Porthos had found a rather sticky bottle of maple syrup plus a plastic thing of lemon juice from somewhere, and Athos looked curiously at it as he added some to his pancakes.
"Where did you get this from?"
"It was at the back of the cupboard."
"Was it?" Athos looked blank, and Porthos snorted.
"Guess it was a wise choice not to look at the date on it, then?"
Athos gave a sheepish huff of laughter, and nodded. "Sorry. You must think I'm terrible."
Porthos smiled at him. "Made do, didn't I?"
"I'm beginning to think you're a wizard." Athos pushed his empty plate away and sighed with satisfaction. "That - was amazing. Thank you."
Porthos' smile turned a little self-conscious. "It was nothing."
"It was witchcraft."
Porthos laughed. "I guess I just wanted to say thank you."
Athos blinked. "What for?"
Athos stared at him. "I hadn't realised I'd been that spectacular," he said finally, with an amused twist of his lips.
Porthos looked at him, then down at the table, running a finger through the syrup on his plate. "Honestly? Best sex I've ever had," he said quietly.
Athos snorted. "Bet you say that to all the girls," he murmured, smiling with faint disbelief.
"Alright then. It was - the nicest sex I've ever had," Porthos insisted. "Most blokes, y'know, they're always posturing and grandstanding and shit. You were - you were - " he tailed off, embarrassed and not knowing quite what to say.
After a few evenings metaphorically dancing around each other in the local bar, they'd finally fallen into bed together - and to Porthos at least it had been a revelation. As a fairly big man he was used to his partners either trying to prove they were as tough as him and being uncomfortably rough, or wanting him to use and abuse them.
Athos though, while giving as good as he got, had been so unexpectedly loving, and had so whole-heartedly reciprocated the pleasure Porthos had tried to give, that Porthos had found himself astonished and overwhelmed with affection for him. None of which he knew how to put into words, and was feeling increasingly daft as Athos waited for him to finish his sentence.
"Tell you what," Athos said into the silence before it could stretch out too long to become awkward, and seeing Porthos was lost for words. "I think you should know, that if you do the washing up as well, I would be prepared to marry you."
Porthos dissolved into laughter, grateful to Athos for breaking the tension. "Come here," he said, and Athos dragged his chair closer until Porthos could kiss him.
The kiss got slowly more involved and heated, and its effect on the naked Porthos was plain to see. Athos slid a hand between his legs without breaking the kiss and palmed Porthos' rising cock, making him splutter with laughter against Athos' mouth.
"What for?" Athos smiled mischievously and picked up the bottle of maple syrup.
"What are you up to?" Porthos demanded.
"You'll see." Athos smirked at him and promptly drizzled a line of syrup along Porthos' swollen cock.
"You mucky bastard," Porthos choked with laughter, then almost hiccupped in surprise as Athos slid off his chair to kneel on the kitchen floor.
Athos bent over and licked a slow, deliberate line up his erection, making him shiver with delight. Athos smiled without looking up and slid Porthos' sticky cock all the way into his mouth.
"Oh God," Porthos groaned, reaching out to cradle the back of Athos' head as he sucked him, tangling his fingers gently into the hair curling around his neck. Athos' lips were sliding up and down with a sinful enthusiasm, his tongue warm and wet against the sensitive skin.
Athos could swallow an impressive amount of his cock before having to draw back, and Porthos tried to suppress the growing urge to thrust wildly into his mouth. Instead he let his fingers graze Athos' neck and scalp, coaxing him deeper, almost dizzy from the feeling of Athos sucking around him.
Soon Porthos could feel his climax approaching, a warm tightness that seemed to start in his stomach and spread to his groin, his chest, his throat. Athos' hands were splayed on Porthos' thighs for balance, and Porthos grabbed one of his wrists in warning.
"I'm - I'm close," he said thickly, trying to hold back, trying to maintain control. Looking down had revealed Athos' own erection sticking out from the folds of his dressing gown, and Porthos felt another wave of arousal break through him. "Athos?"
Athos managed to nod without interrupting his stroke, and patted him vaguely on the thigh.
"Fuck." Porthos gave in and grabbed Athos' hair, thrusting sharply between his lips once, twice, three times, just enough to give the last inch of friction he needed to come.
He spilled heavily into Athos' mouth, feeling him swallow around him, his throat working convulsively. When it was over, Athos sat back on his heels looking slightly dazed, wiping a stray line of semen away with the back of his hand.
"Well." Athos swallowed again, thoughtfully licked his lips. "Breakfast seems a lot more fun than I remember."
Porthos gave a hoarse laugh, relieved he hadn't overstepped any unspoken boundaries. Athos seemed entirely to content to stay sitting on the floor, so he reached down and hauled him up into his lap.
"How about I take you back to bed and see to that?" Porthos offered in a low rumble, wrapping his hand around Athos' rigid cock and stroking him slowly.
Athos nodded, still looking rather dazed. Porthos laughed, and standing up, picked him up in his arms. Athos wound his arms around Porthos' neck and smiled at him.
"This doesn't mean we're actually getting married does it?"
Porthos laughed. "I figure as long as I leave you with the washing up I'm safe." He kissed him, and gave a dirty smirk. "And when I've finished with you, it's not just the plates that'll be all sticky and licked."