Work Text:
Methos woke slowly, the now familiar buzz that hailed MacLeod’s presence was missing and it was with sleepy muzziness that he recalled what day it was and therefore why his Highlander was absent. Sighing heavily Methos rolled over onto his back, blinking owlishly in the weak dawn light filtering into the barge and shivering as the chill raised goosebumps on his bare sleep warmed skin.
It had been six years since Tessa Noel had been killed by some hopped up junkie and every year on this date Mac rose early, before dawn, and disappeared until midnight. Methos knew what Mac did, he had bugged Joe until the Watcher had given him the answers. But he had respected the Highlander’s need to be alone and had not actually followed him.
Mac spent the day visiting old haunts that had been special to he and Tessa, then he spent long hours in Darius’ Church lighting a candle for all those he had lost over the years and communing with his memories. MacLeod would then turn up at Joe’s and drink until midnight, when Joe would call him on his cell and ask him to pick up the now completely maudlin Scot and take him home. Whereupon he would pour his lover into bed and crawl in beside him, wrapping the grieving man in his arms and just holding him. Of course, Joe hadn’t been that forthcoming with the small details, Methos even knew the order in which Mac visited the various places on his annual pilgrimage… oh, he didn’t follow his lover himself, but that didn’t mean that he left the man unattended while he could not be with him. He had found a few reliable, well more reliable than usual anyway, street urchins, whom he paid to keep an eye on MacLeod- with instructions to call him if trouble should find his lover while he was in such a vulnerable state. Surprisingly though, nothing had ever happened, almost as if some higher power was watching over the man. Methos shrugged mentally, never look a gift horse in the mouth. He kept up his covert surveillance however, if for nothing more than his own peace of mind and if Mac had ever discovered his young watchers, he had never said anything about it.
Methos felt no jealousy over MacLeod’s dead lover. Tessa had been quite a woman from Joe’s description of her and what he had read in Mac’s chronicle. He was in fact very glad that Mac had been able to find somebody he could love that much and who could love him, despite the perils of his Immortality. There was so much loss in the world, but mortals at least had the knowledge that there was only one lifetime before they could join their loved ones, for his own kind however there was just facing the memories that they carried with them, keeping the pain fresh for the long years of their lives. Duncan was one of those men who kept everything with him, the pain as well as the pleasure, Methos preferred to let most of it go. But sometimes he wondered if that was what made the Highlander special. MacLeod carried everything with him, both the light and the dark, they all did, but the Highlander carried it so near the surface, was always so aware of it and never hesitated to face it. What Methos did not let go, he carried so deep that most of the time he was not even aware of it.
Shaking himself Methos cursed under his breath, this ungodly hour was not the time for deep philosophical thoughts. He should be deeply asleep wrapped in the arms of his Highland Warrior. Methos had spent far too many days rising before dawn for various reasons, he felt he deserved to sleep in and start the day at a decent hour….. say when the sun was most of the way up the sky. But no, he had to go and fall in love with a bloody barbarian who liked to be up at the crack of dawn, bloody brat probably took it as his own personal duty to wake the damn birds.
Thumping his pillow several times, Methos tried unsuccessfully to go back to sleep, but thoughts of MacLeod would not let him be and finally with a growl and a vicious punch to the poor innocent pillow, he dragged himself out of bed and stalked to the shower.
***
Dressed and sitting at the breakfast bar with a cup of strong coffee, beer chaser sitting at his elbow, Methos pondered some more on his absent lover. Enough was enough, six years was long enough to brood over anything, Methos conveniently ignored his own seldom indulged penchant for long term brooding, this was a case of do as I say, not as I do. He was not going to spend another night holding a maudlin Scot, it was time for a change, and by the Gods a change they were going to have. Suddenly animated now that he had a plan and a goal, Methos pulled out his cell from his coat pocket and dredged his memory for some long unused Lloyd’s bank account numbers and started dialling.
***
Duncan tensed slightly as he approached Joe’s bar and felt an Immortal’s presence flow through him, then relaxed and let his hand drop from inside his coat as he recognised the familiar feel of his lover’s signature. He would have been able to pick Methos’ presence in a room full of Immortals, had been able to since before they had become lover’s.
Straightening his shoulders Mac blew out a long breath and prepared to face Methos. He had spent the day as usual, travelling from memory to memory, only this time it had been different, he had been saying goodbye.
Tessa would not have wanted him to mourn this long, he knew it was time to move on and she would have been happy that he had found Methos. But he had not been able to let go until now and the fact that Methos had broken with the usual course of events meant that his lover was thinking the same thing and was most likely going to try and pull a fast one on him, after expecting an argument of course.
For the first time that day, Mac found a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he was sure that Methos had spent the day planning some kind of surprise, his smile widened, he hoped that travel was in those plans because he needed to get out of Paris, out of Europe, perhaps somewhere tropical. The old man was always going on about how good Bora Bora was this time of year, so taking a deep breath, MacLeod straightened his shoulders and gathered his resolve before pushing open the door and stepping into the dim interior of the bar.
***
Methos sat quietly at the bar, ignoring Joe’s pointed looks for him to explain his presence and sipping his beer, not even blinking when Mac’s presence buzzed through him, warming his soul in a way that still left him slightly amazed.
Watching over his shoulder Methos admired his lover, the way he moved with an inborn economy that spoke of confidence and never failed to turn him on.
Squelching thoughts that were inappropriate for the gravity of the situation, Methos turned back to his beer and took another sip.
***
MacLeod eyed the tall lanky figure that sat slouched at the bar, a sly grin ghosting over his lips, Methos was the only person he knew that could slouch on a bar stool and make it look as comfortable as a couch or a bed. The seemingly casual sprawl mixed with the veil of indifference fooled just about everybody who met the man, but it hid an alertness, an awareness, that should never be underestimated. That devil may care attitude could be shed in seconds to be replaced by a formidable and deadly opponent, a fact that may had overlooked until far too late.
It was that mix of idle tease, deadly fighter, saint and sinner that fascinated MacLeod, the Horseman and the Scholar. Yes, he’d been able to forgive Methos for that, although it had not been his forgiveness, or even his acceptance that his lover had wanted, just his understanding. Well now he had all three.
***
Methos gazed fixedly into his almost empty glass as MacLeod’s presence faded into the background, where it became a familiar part of his surroundings. Suddenly he was filled with an uncharacteristic uncertainty, he had no idea how his lover would react to the plans he had spent the day making and he had to fight an almost overwhelming desire to bolt out the door and call the whole thing off, pretend that nothing had been done.
***
Mac felt the change in his lover’s presence, the apprehension colouring the normally neutral feel of Methos’ Immortal buzz and his smile returned. So, the old man was wondering how his actions would be received. Ever since the strange double Quickening that they had shared when they had taken Kronos and Silas, Mac had been able to sense strong emotions from the older Immortal. It had been vague at first and he was sure it only went one way, for Methos had said nothing about it. He had spent the intervening years perfecting his reading of his lover. MacLeod suppressed the momentary urge to tease the older man about interfering, the genuine and powerful concern he felt in the other man telling him that Methos needed reassurance.
***
Methos tensed slightly as he felt the Highlander stop behind him and almost jumped when a large warm hand slid up his back to stop lightly on the back of his neck, his lover’s touch having it’s usual effect on him as he felt the tightening in his groin and a small tremor run through his body. MacLeod new full well that he was not one for public displays, but for some reason the warm pressure of the hand on his nape and the body behind him were very reassuring and he found himself relaxing.
“Hello Joe” the rich voice spoke, a quick squeeze from his lover’s hand an unspoken greeting.
“Mac” the Watcher acknowledged setting down a glass of whisky, the man’s usual fare on this day.
***
Joe had noticed the Highlander’s tall frame the minute he had walked into the bar, glancing at his watch and noting that he was on time. He had been powerfully curious when the old man had shown up about an hour ago, wanting to know why he had broken with what had almost become a tradition and not waited to be called to retrieve his partner at midnight. But the ancient Immortal had ignored him the whole time, speaking in monosyllables, far from his usual more gregarious self.
The almost complete non-reaction from Methos upon Mac’s arrival was a surprise and Joe had a growing suspicion that both Immortals were able to identify each other’s signatures. But he had been unable to get any answers from either of the contrary men.
Then Mac had placed his hand on Methos’ back in an obvious gesture of possession and Joe’s curiosity had risen a notch. Neither man touched much in public, indeed if you did not know them well, you would be hard pressed to tell that they were more than just good friends.
MacLeod stared at the glass on the counter “Thanks Joe, but not tonight” he replied.
Joe’s eyebrows rose in question and Mac just gave him an enigmatic smile.
***
Mac caught Joe’s gaze trying to tell him that despite appearances to the contrary, everything was ok, but he was going to have to get Methos home and talk. “Have one on me Joe, and think of Tessa. I think you would have liked her, and I know she would have loved you” MacLeod stated, holding out his right hand to his friend and Watcher.
Joe was stunned and just stared momentarily at the out stretched hand unsure what to make of this, but with a horrible suspicion that there was a goodbye in there somewhere. Joe took the Highlander’s hand and shook it, noting that his other hand had now slid around to curve over Methos’ shoulder and that the old man was wearing an expression of worried concern and puzzlement as he stared at Mac from beneath lowered lashes. He could sympathise with the man entirely, MacLeod’s behaviour, which admittedly was usually very un-MacLeodish on this of all days, was now bordering on the bizarre, on this of all days. Still, he got no sense of wrongness from the other man, not like he had after the Dark Quickening. In fact if anything, he saw peace in those dark brown eyes and he found himself feeling happy for MacLeod even though he guessed that he would not be seeing him again for a while.
“I’ll do that Mac and I know I would have liked Tessa. I’ve seen some of her work, she was a passionate woman and it showed, I’m sorry I didn’t get to know her”
“Is there a point to all this?” Methos asked, unhappy with the direction of the conversation. MacLeod was not acting according to custom, granted his own actions were contrary to the established course of events, but that was beside the point. MacLeod simply should have carried on regardless, has he usually did. Instead, here he was telling Joe he wasn’t in the mood to get drunk tonight and giving a speech that sounded frighteningly like goodbye. An uncharacteristic panic gripped Methos at the thought of Duncan walking away from him again, like he had after his run in with the Irishman O’Rourke. Methos squashed those thoughts, Mac would not do that again, he *knew* that. But it didn’t stop him from fearing that eventuality. “because if there’s not, I’d like another beer please Joe” he finished, pushing his empty glass towards the Watcher and trying to ignore MacLeod’s hand, the thumb of which was now idly stroking back and forth across the fabric of his coat.
MacLeod turned his gaze to his lover, feeling the tension in the slender frame beneath his hand and the change in the ancient’s Quickening, the bowed head drawing his eyes to the short silky strands of dark hair that called out for him to run his fingers through them. Methos was afraid of loosing him, but why? Sighing MacLeod kicked himself mentally, he was an idiot and he was sorry he had not been direct with Methos. He should leave the headgames to his lover, they were not his style and they only ever hurt people.
“Put it on my tab Joe” MacLeod said as Joe set a full glass of imported beer in front of the seated Immortal.
“Thanks but no thanks MacLeod, I can pay my own way”
MacLeod sighed again, whenever Methos was upset with something he had done, he got sarcastic and snippy. “Just do it Joe” he said, picking up the beer and moving off towards a table located in a secluded corner of the bar. Mac ignored the deadly glare from his lover who followed reluctantly as he seated himself.
Taking a deep breath Mac took Methos’ free hand and laced their fingers together pulling the older man down into the seat beside him, savouring the effect that this man’s touch always had on him.
Methos tried unsuccessfully to pull his hand from the firm grip “Just say it and get it over with MacLeod” he murmured, trying again to remove his hand from MacLeod’s and refusing to meet his lover’s eyes, afraid of what he might see there.
Methos flinched when MacLeod laid his hand on his cheek, thumb gently forcing his chin up to meet the Scot’s eyes.
“It’s France I want to leave Methos, not you. Never you” MacLeod stated, his eyes locked on Methos’. Squeezing the captive fingers for emphasis he continued “Today started like it does every year and I thought it was going to end like this day does every year. But, “ Mac paused, checking that he had Methos’ attention and assured that his contrary lover was at least pretending to listen to him MacLeod resumed “today was different. When I got to Darius’ church I felt like I usually did, like I couldn’t cope with her loss. She was my fiancée Methos, my chance to beat that gypsy prophecy and find true happiness” Mac felt Methos flinch again at his words, damn, this was not going right. He did not want to hurt his lover with his words, but he had to tell Methos the whole story. Tugging on the captured hand he leaned in and smiled inwardly at the small gasp that escaped before their lips met and he shared with his lover all the joy he had found at the church. He deepened the aural caress, tongues duelling in the warm wet haven of their mouths. Breaking the kiss and leaning back, Mac looked into dazed green eyes, “But the one thing I forgot lover, was that you are very much alive. Tessa would not want me to lose what I have with you, she would want me to be happy Methos, ….. and I am. Very happy.
Methos sat in silence, MacLeod’s words barely registering on his shocked brain as it struggled to cope with yet another curveball thrown at him by his supposedly predictable Highlander. He could not prevent a small moan from escaping as his mouth was claimed again in a gentle but thorough kiss.
Methos sat frozen in place as MacLeod pulled away, his eyes closed, a look of concentration on his face.
Mac sat in silence letting his lover absorb his words. He was rewarded for his patience with a sweet curve that slowly spread across the sensual mouth, the smile topped by shining green eyes that sparkled with warmth and joy.
Methos squeezed the warm hand that still held his, not trusting his voice to the words he wanted to say, but from the answering smile on the Highlander’s face he guessed that he didn’t have to say anything.
Studying his lover, Methos noticed the changes that had left their mark on MacLeod in the 5 years they had been together. This Duncan MacLeod was a very different man to the one he had met as Adam Pierson, mild mannered Watcher. The loss of first Tessa , then Richie through violence, the Dark Quickening and the run in with O’Rourke had forced the honourable Scot to re-evaluate his world view, he now sat before a more mature and self assured man. Methos also found himself stunned to realise that he himself was a changed man. MacLeod had forced him to come out of his self-imposed ivory tower and live in the real world again and for all the pain that had had to be endured, he could not honestly say that he regretted any of it.
Now as he sat here, the noise of the bar a dull roar in the background, and he could finally admit to himself that the man in front of him was the man he loved, Methos found the voice to say the words. Disengaging his hand from MacLeod’s grip he cupped the beloved face in front of him “Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod…” leaning in he placed a kiss on the high forehead, “I-” then on each eye, “love-” then a final gentle caress on the warm mouth, “you.” Drawing back Methos was shocked to see tears flowing down Duncan’s face “Shhhhhh..” he soothed “You’re a little old for sloppy romanticism aren’t you” he teased.
A watery smile made its way through the tears “Pot calling the kettle black Methos”
“Doesn’t count, I’m in my seventieth childhood” came the familiar smart mouthed reply, but the eyes told MacLeod all he needed to know.
“Personally I think it’s senility setting in” ignoring the indignant snort he continued, “So *old man* what does it say on the plane tickets?”
Methos gaped, jaw working but his voice seemed to have momentarily deserted him. “How?…..”
Mac just smiled, no way was he giving away trade secrets he needed every advantage, underhanded or not, he could get in trying to keep up with his devious contrary lover.. not to mention keeping him off balance, which didn’t happen often enough in his humble opinion. It kept them both fresh.
Methos growled something about smart arse infants under his breath, “well, if you must know I’ve heard Bora Bora is good this time of year.
***
Joe looked up from where he was polishing glasses at the sound of a loud laugh from the back of the bar and searching the darkness he smiled when he caught sight of a laughing Highlander bring Methos’ hand to his lips. He let the relief flood through him as he realised from Methos reaction to the gesture that all was well for his two immortals, because they both deserved some love and joy in their lives and even though he knew their relationship would be a fiery one, he also knew with certainty that it would be a lasting one. Joe watched as the lover’s rose from their seats, Methos’ hand still clasped in MacLeod’s as they headed for the door, Mac throwing a last minute goodbye over his shoulder. Ah well, even if it was goodbye, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be a long one.
End.