| Something About the Way You Look Tonight... by Diana DeShaun (c) 1998 Disclaimers: The characters Duncan MacLeod and Methos belong to Rysher Entertainment and Panzer/Davis Productions. I'm just borrowing them for fun. No copyright infringement is intended. Rating: R for same sex content. Please let me know what you thought! [email protected] Duncan MacLeod couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning, he finally flung the covers aside and sat up in the bed. Heaven knew he had a reason to be tired, so why couldn't he sleep? He was here at his island cabin well away from everything and everyone in the outside world--except Methos. No doubt, the old man was the crux of his problem. He had almost lost Methos less than a week ago to an unscrupulous Immortal and his mortal prot�g�. If MacLeod hadn't somehow felt, known, that Methos was in trouble... He shuddered. It just didn't bear thinking about. It was over and they'd both survived - thank God. Now they were both here on MacLeod's island, Holy ground, for some much needed R & R. But, still MacLeod couldn't sleep. He'd heard Methos go out about 30 minutes ago, and, while he knew the old man was perfectly safe on this island with its total current population of two...That had to be it. His insomnia was Methos' fault. What could he be doing out there anyway? Throwing himself out of the bed, MacLeod went to find out. It was a balmy summer night and Mac didn't bother to pull anything over his briefs. But as he approached the beach, it appeared he was still a little over-dressed given what lay before him. Stopping at the edge of the trees, the breath caught in MacLeod's throat as the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen suddenly seemed to rise up out of the sand. Methos stood, nude, facing the water. His arms were raised toward the sky and his face was tilted towards the full moon. The play of the silvery light along that sleek body seemed to elicit an answering glow from within it. Methos' ivory skin was glistening in the moonlight, and his radiance took MacLeod's mind back to something the man had said to him once: "I've been a god, MacLeod, it's not all it's cracked up to be." He did look like a god at this moment. It was suddenly easy to see how he could have been considered one. Then the ancient Immortal began to speak, almost sing really. His voice, rising and falling in cadences long dead, held its own fascination for his silent watcher. It was filled with joy and wonder-- Methos rarely showed such emotions to anyone and MacLeod felt a brief stab of jealously that the old man could have such depths and not have shown them to him. Finally, the...chant? incantation? stopped. Methos lowered his arms and turned back to face the trees. "I know you're there Duncan," came that same joy filled voice, "you might as well come out." "I wasn't hiding," groused the Highlander, trying without out success to keep his eyes off the silver-lymed figure as he approached. "I just didn't want to disturb whatever it was you were doing. Exactly what were you doing, by the way?" Methos stared at MacLeod for a moment, raking laughter-filled eyes over the other man. "Well, if you must know, my nosy Highland friend, I was performing part of an ancient ritual of praise. At one time, the moon was considered to be a guiding force in the lives of men. By performing this ritual to its completion, one could secure the blessings of the moon and its protection for another month." "We could certainly use that. How exactly do you complete the ritual?" A strange look passed over Methos face, "Never mind MacLeod. I was just about to take a midnight swim," he glanced down again at MacLeod's briefs then glinted back at him devilishly, "want to come?" Before Mac could reply, Methos turned and ran into the water then came surging up with a shake of his hair and a laugh. "Come on MacLeod! The water's great!" Needing no further urging, Duncan chucked his briefs and dove in. The two men swam briskly for a time, then began to tread water in companionable silence. Eventually, they found themselves standing about waist deep, facing each other in the moonlight. The moment stretched as each considered the sight before him. Both found the other utterly compelling. To break the charging silence, Duncan said, "So how do you complete the ritual, Methos?" "All ancient rituals ended in one of two ways Duncan, either with a sacrificial death or...a rite celebrating life." "I get the death part, but what's 'a rite celebrating life'?" "The usual, MacLeod. Sexual intercourse between the celebrants." A slow grin spread across the Highlander's face as he slid through the water until he was almost touching the other man. "And which way is this ritual supposed to end, Methos?" Methos' eyes searched Duncan's in the moonlight, then he laughed softly. "Well, I didn't bring my sword." Duncan laughed as well as both men closed the remaining distance between them. They would never be able to say exactly who kissed whom first. It was a very mutual thing. Finally drawing apart, they made their way out of the water then turned to slowly appraise each other on the bank. "Well, this is certainly an amazing development," murmured Methos. "You're right it is," MacLeod stared pointedly at the other man, "I thought you said you didn't bring your sword." "MacLeod!" "Yes, Methos?" "MacLeod, I can't believe you're acting this way-- you seem so..." "Happy? Comfortable? I am. We've been dancing around this for years, Old Man, and I for one am glad to see an end to it." "Just like that? All these years you never gave me any indication and one little incantation to the moon and poof..." MacLeod advanced slowly up to the other Immortal and placed his hands on the other's shoulders, "That's right, Methos, poof. Now the question is, do we go with this or chalk it up to lunacy and pretend it never happened?" "Lunacy? Oh, you are too bad, MacLeod. Hell yes, I want to go with this," and his hands stole around MacLeod's waist. "I've always wanted to 'go with this'. Just don't change your mind in the morning," he brushed the other man's full lips with his own, "or next week," another kiss, "or next month." Laughing again, MacLeod pulled Methos tight against him, "I don't think you have to worry about that, Old Man. I couldn't in good conscience change my mind next month, now could I?" "Well, good, I'm glad, but, er, why couldn't you, Mac?" MacLeod grinned. �You're the one who said this ritual only lasted a month." Beginning to grin himself, Methos drawled, "That's right, and you're the one who said that we needed all the protection we could get." "It's true. As long as we're in all this terrible danger, we'll just have to keep doing this on a monthly basis. Until the danger is past." "And then, of course, there's the question of practice. In order for the ritual to achieve its full, er, effects, it must be completed exactly right." "Practice? Who are you implying needs practice?" "Don't pout, Highlander. I take it back. I'm sure you've had plenty of practice...Ow! All right! All right! I'm old! My technique is probably outdated. I need practice!" "That's better." "Gods, I was beginning to think I'd have to get down on my knees!" "Hm...possibly, but not for that. I accept your implied apology." Arms around each other's waists, the two made their way back to the cabin. Once inside, they turned to face each other in the flickering light of the revived fire. Taking Methos' hand gently in his own, MacLeod suddenly grinned and said, "Now, about you getting down on your knees..." -the end- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ back to Main page back to Highlander fanfic email: [email protected] |