"I'm cold," Aramis declared to the frozen forest at large.
"We all are," Athos's muffled voice came from beneath his hat. "Stop whining."
Aramis huffed, rolling over again, as he tried to tuck his single thin blanket more tightly around himself. The trip, through fields with no trees to break the wind and one very chilly river, had been bad enough. Stopping for the night in an ice-covered forest was the last straw. "We couldn't have found some kind farmer to take us in for the night, no, of course not..."
"What part of 'move without being seen' was unclear?" Athos lifted his hat just long enough to shoot Aramis a withering glare.
"Give him a rest," Porthos sighed. Sticks cracked beneath him as he shifted. "He's delicate, y'know."
"I'll give you delicate," Aramis grumbled.
d'Artagnan made a noise like a discontented puppy and curled further in on himself. "Trying to sleep." He'd tucked himself against the bank of dead leaves Athos had claimed as a bed, but clearly even those weren't warm enough.
"No, but really," Aramis said, louder, and sat up. d'Artagnan groaned pitifully. Aramis ignored him. "How are you not freezing, Athos?"
"I'm a drunk," Athos said, his voice dry as paper. "My blood is two-thirds wine. It doesn't freeze."
"Ha," Porthos said. "Ha. Ha ha." He sounded as tired as d'Artagnan. "Can we banter in the morning?"
"No. This is intolerable," Aramis said, and snatched up his blanket. He was still fully dressed, wrapped in his coat and all. He stalked across the ground, shivering dramatically, and dropped his blanket between Athos and Porthos. "You," he said, pointing to Porthos, "over here. And you--" He jabbed a finger at Athos, who lifted his hat again, arching an eyebrow. "Off your high horse and come down here. You too, whelp."
"I'm comfortable," Athos said, lowering his hat again.
"You're shivering," d'Artagnan muttered. Athos kicked him.
Porthos cracked open an eye. He judged the distance between him and Aramis, then closed his eyes again. Clutching his blanket around himself, he rolled, twice, and came to a stop against Aramis's feet. "Come on, then," he muttered.
Aramis grinned, flopping down beside him and tucking himself up against Porthos. Porthos flung an arm over him, unrolling both their blankets so they could share, and Aramis sighed happily.
d'Artagnan hesitated a moment, looking between Athos and the other two musketeers. Glancing over, Aramis pitied him the choice. His idol, or warmth?
"Get over here, d'Artagnan," Porthos muttered, and the youth broke.
Aramis made a pleased sound as d'Artagnan curled up beside him, adding a third blanket to the mix, and while they were a confused tangle of limbs, they were indeed much warmer. "Lovely," Aramis murmured. "Just lovely."
"C'mon, Athos," Porthos called.
"No," Athos said. He didn't sound too sure of himself, though.
"Suit yourself," Aramis said. He sounded disgustingly content for someone sandwiched between people who hadn't had a chance to bathe in days.
There was only the sound of the fire for a few moments, then d'Artagnan sighed, flipping the blankets back from his face. "Athos," he said quietly. "Come down. You'll freeze."
Porthos and Aramis held their breath.
Athos pushed his hat back and got to his feet. "Fine," he said. His voice was perfectly level, but they all knew better.
He lay his bedroll down on d'Artagnan's other side, and the youth scooted closer to Aramis to give Athos space. To everyone's surprise, Athos followed. In a moment, his shoulder was pressed against d'Artagnan's back, and Athos's blanket had joined the others over the four of them.
"You'll do just fine," Aramis murmured to d'Artagnan.
"Mmhmm," d'Artagnan sighed, already half-asleep now that Athos was close again.
"Clever," Porthos rumbled in Aramis's ear. "Very subtle little plan."
Aramis grinned, grateful d'Artagnan's hair hid the expression. "I rather thought so," he whispered back. "Neat, yes?"
"Yes, darling, you're a bloody genius," Porthos said, and yawned. "Sleeping now."
Finally warmed through and through, Aramis did just that.