The envelope was waiting for him when he came into the bar.
Just a small, padded manila envelope with a single word written
neatly on it. No, a single name. A name that drove the remaining
sleep from Joe Dawson's eyes and had him scrambling for a phone.
Duncan MacLeod snarled at the phone, wishing he'd thought to
unplugged the damn thing last night. Grabbing the phone, he drew
it quickly under the covers, letting in as little of the cold
air as he could manage.
"MacLeod. This better be good." He snapped.
"Mac, this is Joe. Do you know where Methos is? I've
tried his place but he's not there."
"Uh? Why?" MacLeod mumbled, trying to rub at his
eyes without actually uncocooning himself.
"Something's come for him to the bar." Joe sounded
"So? W....ah, he can pick it up later."
"Mac, you're not listening. Something. Came. To. The.
Bar. For. Methos. Not for Adam."
That woke MacLeod up. "Damn. Listen, I'll see if I can
find him. Be there as soon as possible."
"Right. Thanks." Joe hung up and so did MacLeod.
Once the phone was safely out of the cocoon, MacLeod rolled
over, reaching out to draw his bed partner close. Not that it
was difficult. The ancient Immortal was already tunneling his
way as close to his Highlands lover as he could manage,
burrowing into his warmth.
"We have to get up, Methos."
Methos cracked one eye open and smiled, pressing hard against
MacLeod. "Feels like you're already up." He purred,
hand stroking MacLeod gently.
"Stop trying to change the subject. You know that's not
what I meant. I. . ."
"Well, I'm not leaving this bed until the furnace is
fixed. Or spring. Whichever comes first." Methos said
peevishly and burrowed his way downward. The next thing MacLeod
knew, his lover's warm mouth was replacing his hand.
"Methos!" MacLeod gasped then groaned. "Gods!
You're one horny bastard!" Then again, maybe he was just
trying to distract him. Yes, it was definitely working.
Methos chuckled, his mouth working on his lover's hardness.
Over the past five weeks, he'd learned exactly what MacLeod
liked and how and now put all lessons into play, working to keep
both himself and his lover in this nice warm bed.
"Methos. . ." MacLeod groaned, regretting what he
had to say but knew he had to do it. "That. . .that was
Joe. . ."
"Mmmmmmmmmm. . ?"
"Someone left something. . .oh, gods. . something for
you at the bar. . ."
"Hmmmmmm. . ."
"Something for Methos, that is. . .Methos?"
Methos had stopped moving. His mouth left MacLeod and he
shimmied his way up his lover's body to look at him
face-to-face, his expression serious.
"For Methos?" He asked in a low voice.
"That's what Joe said. Ahhhhhh, Methos. . .? Methos!"
The last was a sharp yelp as the old man leapt from the bed,
sprinting for the bathroom. The in surge of cold air took care
of the little problem Methos had been dealing with and MacLeod
sat up, cursing and shivering. Coldest days of the year and the
furnace had to break down now! He swung his legs off the bed,
flinching slightly at the cold radiating from the floor and
hurried to the bathroom, already filled with steam from the
shower. He pulled back the curtain and started to tell his lover
to scoot over only to find that he already had. Thank the gods
for a considerate lover.
"I'll call Richie and see if he can come over and wait
for the furnace repair." He took the soap from Methos and
began to vigorously wash the other's back. "If they don't
come, we'll get a hotel room." He promised.
"In Bora-Bora?" Methos asked plaintively. He really
hated the cold. He'd spent as much of his life as he could in
MacLeod smiled, kissing the back of Methos' neck gently.
"I'll tell you what." He murmured. "How about we
plan on a nice little vacation where ever you want? My
Methos leaned back against the other man. "Where
Methos turned in MacLeod's arms to kiss him fervently.
"Thank you." He murmured, resolving to repay his lover
appropriately. And it seemed that he could start now as he felt
MacLeod's arousal. With a grin, he reached down to gently stroke
"I thought we were heading for Joe's." MacLeod
"Joe can wait." Methos purred, reaching for the
It was a good hour later when the two men finally arrived at
Joe's. They stood studiously apart, two friends entering the
neighborhood bar together. One of the things they had agreed on,
at least for now, was not to tell Joe about their affair.
Neither man truly wished for it to appear in MacLeod's
Chronicle. Methos didn't even want to think of the possible
repercussions from the Watchers, even if he was no longer a
member of the organization.
"It's about time!" Joe snarled, looked uncommonly
frazzled. He sat at the bar, wiping glasses with a single minded
purpose, studiously ignoring the envelope resting on the bar.
The lovers exchanged glances and Methos cautiously held up a
bag. "We stopped and picked up some lunch?" He said.
Joe glared at him then abruptly relaxed. "Sorry."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "My nerves are
shot. Thanks for the lunch."
"It's just chicken." Methos smiled, setting the bag
on a table and started to pull containers from it. MacLeod
ducked behind the count and gathered together some sodas,
leaving Joe free to make his way to the table. The Highlander
noticed the mortal's wide berth around the package and grinned,
picking it up and adding it to his burden.
"When did it come?" Methos asked pleasantly, eyeing
the envelope as MacLeod dropped it in the center of the table.
"It was just here when I came in this morning. Sitting
right where you saw it. Scared the hell out of me."
end beginning three
site developed and maintained by Rayhne, copyright 1996-2005.