Title: A Trip Worth Taking
Author: Star
Fandom: Highlander (Again. Sigh.)
Pairing: Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod and the cute Old Guy
Rating: R
Category: Romance

Thanks to Pam cleaning up my mess and dewimping Duncan!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Methos?"

The eldest immortal paused in his futile attempt to get comfortable, 
slitting his eyes open to glare at his equally restive companion. 
"What, MacLeod?"

"Do we really have to stay up here all night?"

Methos glanced down at the pride of lions circling the bottom of the 
baobob tree they'd taken refuge in. "Well, we *could* try climbing 
down, but considering there's fifteen of them and only two of us, 
it wouldn't be pretty. But you're welcome to try, Highlander. 
Maybe you could reason with them. It certainly worked well on 
Kristin. And Ingrid. And --"

"This isn't all my fault, you know," Duncan snapped, irritated by 
his lover's mocking tone.

"No?" He began ticking things off on his fingers. "'Methos, 
let's take a trip. Methos, let's tour Africa, just the two of us. 
Methos, it'll be so romantic, like a honeymoon,'" he quoted, then 
settled back down on the unforgiving surface of the branch with a 
loud huff of annoyance. 

"It is! Or rather, was," Duncan protested.

"'Was' being the operative word. Now... Go. To. Sleep."

"But I'm not tired."

Methos sat straight up, his abrupt movement and stentorian reply 
nearly startling the younger immortal out of the tree. "Oh, for 
fuck's sake, Mac, don't tell me that in 400 years you haven't 
discovered at least one good way to deal with insomnia!" 

Carefully rebalancing as the cats prowled restlessly below, Duncan 
stared wide-eyed at his fuming companion. Certainly Methos had 
reason to be upset -- this was hardly the idyllic evening they'd 
originally planned -- but it wasn't like the old man to demonstrate 
his foul temper in such an obvious way. Looking closer, he noticed 
the tension in the rangy limbs, the quick, shallow breathing, the 
high color dusting the sharp cheekbones, even though Methos'
momentary ire was rapidly fading. Tilting his head, Duncan let his 
hair fall forward, hiding his sudden grin. Surreptitiously glancing 
toward the other man's groin, he verified his guess. The world's 
oldest man was suffering the post-quickening-like effects of an 
adrenaline rush. That, at least, he could do something about.

"Of course I have," he replied, his voice gone as smooth as 
Glenfinnan whiskey, "but you're way over there."

~~~

"Of course I'm way over here, it's the only other branch..." 
Methos' grumble trailed off as Duncan's intimate tone and suggestive 
wording penetrated his veil of irritation. "Mac?"

"Come here, Methos."

He shook his head in denial even as the purred request sent shivers 
down his spine. "Oh, no, MacLeod. In case you haven't noticed, we're 
in a tree and -- as old as I am -- arboreal sex predates even me."

"Suit yourself," Duncan replied amiably, settling himself more 
securely into the crook of the tree. 

Determined to ignore his insistent erection and get some sleep, 
Methos followed suit, his eyes popping back open as the sound of 
a zipper being lowered reached him. "You've got to be kidding," 
he whispered, raising his head to take in a sight that would tempt 
even a vestal virgin. 

Duncan met his gaze steadily, his hand never deviating from its 
slow, steady pace. "Sure you won't join me?"

"You're going to be the death of me yet, Highlander." 

Methos' peevish reply was belied by speed with which he made his 
way to Duncan's branch, skinning partway out of his own jeans and 
settling onto the other man's body almost before Duncan could pull 
his hand out of the way.

"Oof! Well, as long as you keep your head --"

He rolled his hips, grinning smugly as Duncan's words were interrupted 
by a low moan. "A little less talk and a little more action, if you 
please," he breathed into the highlander's ear, tracing the sensitive 
curves with the tip of his tongue.

"Methos... wait."

"Not my favorite word at the moment," he growled, nipping sharply at an 
earlobe before reluctantly lifting his head.

Duncan raised his hips. "It's just... I've got...." His attempts to 
reach into his pocket drew a frustrated groan from Methos. "Aha! I knew 
this would come in handy," he gloated, dangling a small tube of lubricant 
under his partner's prodigious nose.

"Let me get this straight," he said, unbuttoning Duncan's shirt, then 
carding his fingers through the silky mat of hair he'd revealed. 
"*That* you've got handy, but my gun and our swords are at the base of 
the tree with the mangled remains of our packs?"

Slicking his fingers, Duncan replied, "Well, you did call me a boy scout 
once upon a time," his voice catching as long fingers found and rolled 
his nipples.

"Yes, but I meant that in the 'helping old ladies across the street' way, 
not --" 

"Methos?" Duncan interrupted breathlessly, reaching between their bodies 
and taking them both firmly in hand.

"Yes?" Methos gasped.

"A little less talk..."

"Right."

~~~

Sated, sticky and semi-conscious, Methos slumped forward onto the broad 
chest of his lover. Strong arms held him close as he wriggled into a 
comfortable position, finding the highlander's body a far more accommodating
mattress than his branch had been.

"Duncan?" he murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Maybe this trip wasn't such a bad idea after all."

(fin)