Athos can feel the heat on his face as he flushes faintly. By God, what a fool I am, he thinks, but he is smiling as he ducks his head. Instead of shame, he feels lighter for the telling, and Tris’ unconcerned and hopeful smile warm him.

He scoffs, though it’s a reasonably question, he supposes. “I…am,” Athos answers slowly, letting his mind settle around the idea. Happy. It is such a simple thing, and yet has been so often out of reach. Now, despite complications - despite the talk of children and his lingering fear that he cannot offer what Aramis and Porthos truly want - the word fits around him snugly as it has not in a long time.