Title: The Morning After
Author: Star
Fandom: Highlander (Sigh. I really didn't mean to.)
Pairing: Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod and the cute Old Guy
Rating: PG? R?
Category: Romance/First Time snippet
Notes: No major worries re: feedback on this one. It was written
(basically) in one evening and most likely won't ever see the light 
of day on any HL lists or anything... it's just for fun. And because
Methos wouldn't leave me in peace to get Jim and Blair laid after 
watching Charmed on Sunday night. But not to worry... the TS boys 
have been cooperative ;->

Oh, and thanks to Pam & Mary for being such quick & awesome betas!

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

Wiping the condensation off the mirror in order to safely continue 
his shave, Methos muttered, "I've told you before, MacLeod, I'm --"

"Just a guy," came a disgruntled voice from the other side of the 
shower curtain. "I know that, Methos. I was simply asking for 
your opinion."

"Oh! Now that's a completely different story. I thought you
were asking for some venerable, definitive words of wisdom --
which I'm fresh out of, by the way. But opinions -- well, I've
got quite a stockpile of those, especially where you're concerned."

Duncan stuck his head out past the tastefully patterned plastic, 
wondering how one man could possibly be so irritating and so 
loveable at the same time. "Well?"

"Well what?" Methos replied, meeting MacLeod's eyes in the mirror,
his face taking on Adam Pierson's guileless innocence.

"Methos!" Duncan bellowed, lowering his voice as his frustrating
companion's eyebrows lifted and a smug grin tugged at the thin but 
inviting lips. "What do you think I should tell Joe about last 
night?"

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that. I mean, he and I do have sort of a gentleman's
agreement about this whole Watcher vs. privacy thing."

"I suppose it depends on what happened last night."

"What do you mean, 'what happened last night?' I distinctly
remember you being there." Mac blushed slightly -- which he
felt was patently ridiculous at his age -- as Methos set down
his razor and turned to study him directly. Then again, a 5000
year old gaze was a fairly intense spotlight to stand under.

"True. But was it a one-night stand? Simple curiosity about 
exactly what tricks I left out of the Kama Sutra? A possibly-
reoccurring buddy-fuck? I doubt any of those are even worth 
a footnote in the rather substantial 'Romantic Liaison' section
of your Chronicle."

The hot water pouring over MacLeod's body went unnoticed as a
chill settled in his stomach. How could Methos think that was
all it was? 

Worn out from a too-late night of entertainment at Joe's followed 
by a painfully frustrating day trying to impart wisdom to a crop of
dimmer-than-usual students at the university, he'd been sprawled, 
Methos-like, in the armchair when he'd felt the first tingle of 
presence. Showing an unusual thoughtfulness, Methos had called 
on his cell phone before starting up in the lift, saving him the 
trouble of reaching for his sword. As Methos had walked into the 
dimly lit loft, saying something about having spoken to Joe about 
the previous night's activities, he'd stopped dead in his tracks, 
eyeing Duncan like a starving lion gazes at a limping gazelle. 

He'd simply stared back, unwilling to break the spell. For all he 
knew, he'd fallen asleep and was having yet another variation of 
his ever-popular 'Methos drags me to bed' dreams. But as the old
man stalked closer, shedding garments with a graceful ease that
even Duncan's dreams hadn't captured, he'd begun to hope. It
wasn't until long, thin fingers began disrobing him and the same
wicked tongue that so often flayed him with sarcasm parted his lips
that he'd truly believed. And now Methos made it sound like it had
meant nothing. No, less than nothing.

By the time Duncan finished woolgathering, Methos had turned back 
to the mirror and resumed shaving. Casting a hesitant glance at 
the other man's reflection, he was struck dumb by the unguarded 
look of sadness on the deceptively young-looking face. Realization 
struck and he quickly ducked back behind the curtain to hide what 
was undoubtedly a rather goofy, and undeniably lovestruck, grin. 
Preemptive attack -- one of the eldest immortal's favorite defenses. 

"Methos?"

"Yes, MacLeod?" 

The annoyed tone of the reply, combined with the long-suffering
sigh proceeding it, confirmed the Highlander's guess and he was
hard pressed to not simply step out of the shower and pin his
unsuspecting friend to the nearest wall.

"I've been thinking --"

"Will wonders never cease."

"About that footnote thing?"

"Yes?"

Better and better. The old man sounded close to actually running
out of his much-vaunted patience. He turned off the water and
wrung out his hair before replying, stalling for as long as 
possible before getting out of the tub. Not bothering to reach 
for a towel, he stepped up behind Methos.

"Maybe we'd better have Joe start fresh with a whole new chapter."

The slowly growing smile in the mirror encouraged him to take a
final step forward and wrap the pale, rangy body in his arms. 
"And with any luck," he murmured, lips close to his lover's ear, 
"it might just be the last."

(fin)