The Pageant                          by Diana DeShaun                              June 1998 Disclaimer: Rysher and Panzer/Davis Productions own the original characters. I'm only borrowing them for fun.     Warning! Rated: NC-17 m/m Same-sex sexual content. Use the delete key now if you are under the legal age in your locality or if that isn't to your taste.   I appreciate all constructive feedback.    [email protected] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                           The Pageant "I'm not going." Methos crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch. The big Scot was entirely too used to getting his own way, and now as the Highlander towered over him, Methos was determined to be firm. Duncan MacLeod set his coffee mug on the end table with a clatter. His arms akimbo, there was an incredulous look in his big brown eyes. "What?" Methos shook his head mournfully. "Only 400 years old and already the hearing is faulty. I said, I am not going." Mac frowned. "Very funny. Why not?" "Hmm, MacLeod, I don't know. Maybe it's because we just got back from Paris a few days ago, and I still have jet lag. Maybe it's because it's too damn early in the morning. Then again, could it be because I just don't want to?" "But Joe wants to see us. I told him we'd be there." Gazing up in amused disdain, the old Immortal drawled, "And you became my spokesman when?" Coloring, MacLeod threw himself onto the couch. "Um..." He rolled his eyes then took a deep breath. "Oh, come on, Methos. I don't want to go alone. He said he needs to talk to us about that last week he was in Paris." "Oh, he needs to 'talk' to us." Methos snorted. "Grill us, you mean. So of course, you're marching right over to face the Inquisition." Staring stubbornly down at the floor, the Highlander said nothing. Shaking his head, Methos reached out and cupped Mac's chin in his hand. Tilting the younger Immortal's head up, he leaned forward to press a soft nibbling kiss on MacLeod's full lips. "Duncan, Duncan, Duncan. Always so accommodating. Haven't I told you, the best response is usually 'Do nothing'?" He breathed into the Highlander's ear, "Or to put it another way, just say no." MacLeod shivered at the warm breath carressing his neck and confessed, "I don't think 'just say no' will work with Joe Dawson. He can be very persuasive." Smiling, Methos leaned back with an eloquent shrug. "Sorry. Tell you what though, you go right ahead and be my spokesman. If Joe has become suspicious about us, it's only right that you be the one to face him. After all, who got that ring stuck on our toes? You're the one who's been giving out clues. Whatever you decide to tell Joe is fine by me." "But Methos--" "Uh uh uh. Better not keep DeSade waiting. Besides, I've got some research to get started on. Run along, Boy Scout." With that Methos lay flat on the couch, turned his back to MacLeod and closed his eyes. Shoved off his seat by a pair of long legs stretching out behind him, MacLeod stood with a disgruntled huff. "Some research." Methos twisted his head to regard him seriously. "I'll have you know that I'm initiating a technique that I invented thousands of years ago. By inducing a semi-conscious state that allows induction of overt stimuli thus rescinding boundaries between id, ego and superego, one is able to achieve integration of--" "Bullshit. You're going to take a nap." "I believe I said that." Closing his eyes, Methos settled back into his 'research'. Shaking his head in grudging fondness, MacLeod leaned over and blew softly in the other man's ear, fondling the firm buttocks as he did so. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty." Big hand still squeezing Methos' ass, Duncan watched his friend for any sign of capitulation. He'd just about given up when the old man turned, eyes brimming with laughter. "And that makes you who? Prince Charming? I don't quite think that's how the Prince woke her." MacLeod sank to his knees. "Me? Prince Charming? Nah. I'm just someone who enjoys a good fairy tale now and then." Methos' mouth twitched as he struggled to control his laughter. " You are bad. I can't believe you said that. Your sense of humor seems to be in overdrive lately." "What can I say? I'm just...happy." Mac whispered these last words as his expression grew more serious and his eyes began to darken. Tugging gently on the long dark locks framing the other man's expressive face, Methos quipped softly, "Luckily, I also seem to have a more humorous outlook these days. Being around you makes it necessary." Placing a long finger across the Highlander's full lips, Methos stalled the protest there. "Now mind, being around you is not necessarily a bad thing, as long as you stay out of mischief. And you do know what they say about humor." Duncan shook his head. "Someone very old and very wise once said, 'Only those with the capacity to laugh at life, can experience its passion.'" Twining his hands more deeply in the silky strands, Methos pulled MacLeod to him and proceeded to kiss him breathless. Tracing one long finger around the neck of MacLeod's shirt, the old man said, "Tell me again, why are you already dressed?" Swallowing convulsively as shivers tracked up and down his spine, Duncan shook his head and tried to think. "I..." "Like I said, it's much too early in the morning." Moving to sit up on the couch, Methos began unbuttoning Mac's shirt. "Undressing you is like unwrapping a present, and you know what you're supposed to do with presents." MacLeod could only shake his head again as Methos slowly pushed the shirt off the Highlander's shoulders and on to the floor. "When I'm done, I get to play with what I've unwrapped." Methos pulled his own sweatshirt over his head, then tugged opened the snap on Duncan's jeans. He fairly ripped the teeth on the zipper apart as jeans and briefs were shoved savagely down to the Highlander's knees. Rising, Methos jerked his sweats off, then knelt beside Duncan. By this time, MacLeod was shuddering, swaying back and forth, as waves of desire coursed through every nerve ending. Mac felt like he was trying to stand in the face of a hurricane--Hurricane Methos. In a tiny coherent part of his befuddled brain, he wondered why he'd ever tried. Then the old man was pressing him back, back onto the floor and that last rational spark was engulfed. MacLeod gave a violent kick and managed to throw off the pants that were tangled around his lower legs. Both men crashed together in a wild, sweaty m�l�e of limbs. Writhing, MacLeod managed to roll so that the old man was trapped underneath, pinned by the Highlander's powerful body. Methos' fingers dug into MacLeod's back as the Scot warrior bit deeply into the taut flesh of the ancient Immortal's neck, claiming his prize, marking his territory--but, their frenzied mating was not so much about dominance as about survival. Both were comsuming and comsumed by each othertheir frenzied mating was no so much about dominance as about survival. Both were consuming and consumed by each other. From the melding of lips and tongues, to the carnal friction of two hard cocks sparring and parting only to engage again....With the first wild surge of the two powerful bodies, the line, the boundary that separated the soul of Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod from the soul of Methos, World's Oldest Immortal, began to blur and then to fade away entirely. Anticipating move for move, they rocked in unison until both men came explosively in the same heartbeat. They lay sated after one of the most intense climaxes either man had ever experienced ripped around and through them, yet Mac could feel a finger of panic in the deepest layers of his psyche. Whether it was his own or Methos', he couldn't have said. Long moments later they still lay panting and stunned on the floor. Finally, heaving a sigh, Methos sat up and rubbed at his eyes. Pinning a light-hearted grin on his face, he turned to the prostrate man. "MacLeod, what are you doing lying there on the floor? I thought you had to talk to Joe." Mac groaned and clapped his hand melodramatically to his head. "Joe! Damn, Methos. Now you've gone and made me late." Chuckling, the old man scrambled to his feet then tugged the Highlander up after him. "Who made you late? It's not my fault if you have no will power. All you youngsters are alike--you live in your gonads." For one instant, MacLeod's genial facade slipped. His eyes darkened. "No," he said softly holding his hand over the other man's heart. "That's not where I live at all, now is it?" Mac dropped a swift kiss on his partner's stunned face and whirled away to get dressed. Moments later, he was gone.                                            --------------- "Have a drink, Mac." Joe Dawson smiled as he tilted the bottle of scotch. "So what've you been up to?" Aware of a faint buzz of presence nearby, he shrugged. "Up to? Not much of anything really. Er,is Richie around?" "Yeah, he's back in the store room doing a little inventory. But, I don't know about this not being up to much of anything. You've been up to a lot if you ask me." MacLeod strangled on his drink, snorting. Smothering a grin, Joe pounded on his back. Mac gasped out. "Like what?" A glint appeared in Joe's eyes. "Oh I don't know. Like since when did you and the old man start watching soap operas on the bed together? And you never did really tell me how that, that ring got stuck on your toes." "Yes I did! I told you, it was an accident. I was just goofing around." MacLeod scrambled to change the subject. "But, hey, what about you, Joe? Anything new?" Joe allowed himself a moment of sweet satisfaction. He could play more than a guitar. "As a matter of fact, there is something going on." He gestured at a framed certificate on the wall. "You know I'm a member of the Businessmen of Seacouver: Building Up Towards Tomorrow Association." Mac nodded. "Every year, we present a program to raise money for local charities. This year, it's my turn to be in charge." "Is that good?" Joe chuckled. "Yeah. That's why I had to come back so much earlier than you. I'm really excited about it. Hopefully, that's where you come in." A flash of wariness appeared in the Highlander's dark eyes. "Sure Joe. You need a donation? How much?" Waving his hand, Joe shook his head. "No, no. Nothing like that, Mac. I just need a few hours of your time." "I'd really rather give you a donation, Joe." "Oh come on, MacLeod. It's really not that big of a deal. Of course, if you don't want to..." Sighing dramatically, he shuffled some papers on his desk. "About that other little thing, Mac. I'm behind in updating your chronicles, and I need a little help deciding what exactly I should add. I mean, you and Methos..." Casting a nasty look in the wily Watcher's direction, Mac grimaced. "I suppose I can give a few hours to a good cause. What is it this year? Marathon? Auction?" Joe opened a drawer and stuck the papers inside. Closing it with a firm push, he said, "Something totally different. We're hosting a beauty pageant." "So what do you want from me?" "The original girl Joe's Bar was sponsoring had to leave town on a family emergency. I've found a replacement but the contest is only a couple of days away and she doesn't know anyone here in town to be her coach. All you'd have to do is give a few pep talks and show up on the night in question. I thought maybe Methos could help you with it." "Methos?" The old man had made Mac his spokesman. In fact, he'd basically agreed to go along with anything Mac decided. I tried to get him to come. The more he thought about Methos coaching a wannabe beauty queen, the funnier it seemed. "All right. We'll do it. But Methos will be the official coach. I'll assist." "You're sure you can speak for the old man?" "Certainly," Duncan tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smug grin. "Just this morning Methos told me that anything you and I agreed on was fine." "Great! Thanks, Mac." At that moment MacLeod's head snapped up and he pivoted toward the door. Reading the signs, Joe ask, "Company? Maybe Richie's done." Mac smiled, "It's Methos. I knew he'd have to come see what was going on. Um, Joe, let's keep this just between us for now, okay?" Before Joe could answer, the door opened and the old Immortal strode in. Flinging himself into the seat next to Mac, he drawled, "Hi guys. Have I missed anything?" Shooting a warning look at Joe, Mac said, "I'll tell you about it later. Come on, I just remembered something we have to do. Goodbye Joe." Mac jumped up and tried to drag Methos back out the door. The old man wasn't budging. Extricating his arm from Mac's grasping fingers, he smiled at Joe. "Joe?" "I was just telling Mac about a beauty contest I'm involved with." Methos laughed. "A beauty contest! Don't tell me--you want MacLeod to be a contestant, right?" Shooting Joe a furious glare, Mac slumped back down into his chair and stared at the wall. Oh God. Methos is going to kill me. He knew trying to be sneaky around the ancient Immortal never worked. Why had he ever thought volunteering the old man was a good idea? Methos began to expound. "I can see it all now: the bright lights, the runway, the bathing suit competition--awk!" Methos ended with a squawk as a big brown hand settled vice-like on his throat. Mac leaned forward to hiss into the old man's face, "Methos, that's not it. Change the subject. We'll talk about it later, okay?" "Come on, Mac. He's kidding." With one last squeeze and another glare at Dawson, MacLeod subsided. It was hopeless. He was well and truly caught. Methos reached up gingerly to stroke his abused neck. "Gods, MacLeod, you have no sense of humor." Fine. The Scot leaned back into his chair with a strange expression on his face. "Oh I don't know, that's not what you said this morning. I think I have a great sense of humor. Not to mention loyalty to friends and discretion, wouldn't you say Joe?" "Oh yeah, MacLeod. And honesty." Turning to Methos, Joe continued. "Actually Methos, I was just talking to Mac about doing a little job for me at the pageant." "You weren't being difficult were you, Duncan? Joe is your friend. I'm sure whatever it is, he's worth it. Now isn't he?" MacLeod grinned evilly. "Fine. You're so right, Methos. Joe is our friend. That's why I told him I would be glad to help." Methos smiled. "Oh well, there's no problem then is there? And don't worry, Joe. I'll be sure to buy a ticket." "Oh, you won't need a ticket, old man." Methos frowned. "I won't?" "Nope. You're going to have a free pass." "Now wait a minute..." MacLeod spoke up. "Methos. Methos. Joe is our friend, remember? You are surely willing to help him out in this charity endeavor, aren't you?" " What is it you want me to do?" "I want you to coach one of the contestants." Methos began to splutter. "What? A coach? What do I know about beauty pageants?" "Look, Methos. I'm desperate. Joe's Bar is sponsoring a contestant but I just don't have time to take care of the pageant and the young lady. It's only a couple of days away." "Absolutely not." Joe shook his head in disgust. "I knew it. I should've known better than to believe MacLeod when he said he was your spokesman. Now what am I gonna do?" "My spokesman." Methos thought for a moment. Turning to the squirming Scot, Methos pinned him with a look. He had better have a damn good reason...a thought struck him. "What's MacLeod doing?" "He's your assistant." "My assistant." The speculative gleam in the jade green eyes made Mac distinctly uneasy. "And you'll do anything I tell you to. Is that right MacLeod?" Duncan gulped, "Anything? Well, sure. Okay." Looking disturbingly as if he'd just won a prize that nobody else knew about, Methos shrugged insouciantly. "Fine. I'm a coach." "Thanks, man." "I suppose I'll need to meet her." "Would now be soon enough?" Mac and Methos looked at each other in surprise. "She's here?" Mac asked. "Hey, the pageant is Saturday. This is Thursday. We're out of time here." Rising, he opened the door to his office and called. "Kandy, come in here for a minute." Returning to his seat, he said in a low voice, "Remember, you promised." Just then the door banged back against the wall and a voice that would melt the paint off Mac's T-bird spoke. "Whoops! Guess I don't know my own strength. Sorry." A beautiful young woman with cascades of dark black curls flowing around her heart shaped face paused just inside the office. Mac scrambled to his feet, dragging Methos up with him. Before Joe could make the introductions, the young lady thrust her hand out. "Hi, I'm Kandy Appleton. That's Kandy with a 'K'. You must be the friends Joe here told me about." Methos stood with an appalled expression on his face. Resisting the urge to cover his ears, Mac took the proffered hand and smiled politely. "It's an honor to meet you Miss Appleton. I'm Duncan MacLeod." A well-placed elbow urged Methos forward. "I'm Adam Pierson...your coach." Kandy fairly purred with pleasure. "My goodness. When Joe told me you two would help me out, he totally forgot to mention how larrupin' you were." Walking over to Joe, she wrapped the bartender in a big hug. Methos spoke to Mac in an undertone. "Larrupin'?" "She mean's we're good looking. Or at least I am. I suppose you could be an acquired taste." "You certainly seem to have acquired it." Disentangling himself from the exuberant young lady, Joe said, "Sorry Kandy, my 'Larup-o-meter must be on the blink. Right guys? Ahem. Guys! Are you with us boys?" Stepping back from his whispered conference with MacLeod, Methos stared at the wily bartender. "Oh we're here, Joe. Just like you apparently told Miss Appleton we would be." Coloring a little, Joe said, "Let's get going with this. Kandy, why don't you tell the guys about yourself." "Oh, sure! I am just so excited! I have always wanted to be in a beauty contest. Thank heavens Tank won't be back for two weeks." "Tank?" MacLeod asked. "He's my boyfriend. He'd tell me 'no' for sure. Tank doesn't like me showing myself off to other people." Seeing a possible avenue for escape, Methos frowned over at Joe. "Still, Miss--Kandy, we'd hate for you to get into trouble with, er, Tank. I'm sure Joe here would understand if you want to forget this whole thing..." "Shoot. Tank and his old eighteen-wheeler are clear across the country. Wild horses couldn't stop me from being in this pageant. Now, what all do you need to know?" Methos sighed. " What are you doing for the talent competition?" Squaring his shoulders, he continued reluctantly. "Er, you don't sing, do you?" Kandy's bow-shaped mouth opened, ready to emit a silvery tinkle. Something that sounded like a cross between a honk and a cough was what came out. "Ha, ha. Goodness no! Why, Papa used to tell me never to even sing outside for fear it'd attract wolves!" "Thank God for Papa," muttered Mac. "But don't you boys worry. I've got a talent." She giggled again. "If you'll all come on out into the bar, I'll show it to you." Kandy fished a cassette tape out of her back pocket and handed it to Joe. "Joe, sugar, would you be a darlin' and start this up when I holler?" Joe carried it to a portable tape recorder on the shelf behind the bar. "Sure Kandy, what is it?" "Now, Joe, that'd spoil part of the surprise. I'm gonna step into the little girls' room and get ready. Then, I want all three of you to close your eyes. That way when you open 'em, it'll just kinda reach out and grab you, okay?" Remembering he was supposed to be miffed with the Highlander, Methos flashed him a look as they settled at their usual table. "What hell have you consigned us to?" "I had no choice. Joe was going to put you in my chronicles." Rubbing the broad shoulders of his friend, Mac continued, "It could be worse. How bad can it be for a couple of days? And, you know, Kandy is a beautiful girl. But, I'll admit, that voice--it sends shivers down my spine every time she opens her mouth." Methos reached up and tucked a stray curl behind the younger Immortal's ear. "By shivers, I presume you don't mean the 'God, I'd like to jump her shapely young bones' kind?" Leaning forward until his warm breath caressed the old man's neck, Mac watched as a minute shudder rippled over the ivory skin. "Feel that?" he whispered. Squirming a little, the ancient Immortal nodded. "So do I, every time I look at you. That's a 'God, I'd like to jump his shapely old bones' kind of a shiver. When the beauteous Kandy speaks, it's more like that feeling of nausea you get when someone scrapes his fingernails down a chalkboard." A cough at the bar caused the two Immortals to look suspiciously at Joe, but he seemed totally absorbed in polishing the beer taps. Before either man could comment, Kandy called out. "Okay. I'm ready. Joe start the tape and then everyone close your eyes until you hear the music begin!" Joe turned his back to the room and pressed the 'play' button on the tape deck. He then closed his eyes. After a moment's consideration, the two Immortals did likewise. The first notes from the cassette filled the bar. Joe had no trouble identifying the instruments: banjos. He believed the song was called "Dueling Banjos". It seemed like an odd choice to build an act around. Joe's attention was snagged by a loud gasp. Looking toward his friends, he saw that Methos had an arm crooked around the Highlander's neck and a hand clamped firmly over his mouth. The old man just sat there with that same appalled expression on his face. Shaking his head, Joe finally focused on Kandy. The sight affected him so profoundly, he had to grip the edge of the bar to retain his balance. He could feel his mouth hanging open, but he couldn't seem to find the necessary mental command to close it. Well, Joe thought as he continued to watch the spectacle unfold, she certainly is a natural talent. It was as impressive a display of muscle control and coordination as Joe had ever had the privilege to see. Kandy hadn't been kidding when she claimed her act was unique. The young woman was stripped to the waist except for a couple of pasties placed strategically on her person. Dangling from the tips of the pasties were glittery tassels. Each tassel was being twirled faster than the eye could follow in accordance with the dictates of the music. Sometimes one spun, sometimes the other. As the song grew in complexity, both were twirling. The amazing thing was that they went in opposite directions at the same time! As the banjos dueled, so too did Kandy's...tassels in perfect rhythm. A reluctant stirring from the bar's only occupied table snagged Joe's attention. The two Immortals were looking toward the store room.... Richie! Joe suddenly remembered his young helper working back there. Sure enough, the handsome young redhead sauntered in carrying a box. "Hey Joe Here's that case of--Holy shit!" The box fell to the floor with a dull thud. Joe was thankful it contained napkins. His eyes fixed on the gyrating young woman, Richie advanced slowly as the banjo duel and the twirling exhibition reached a crescendo. His head swung slowly back and forth like a metronome as he strove to follow the moves and countermoves of the performance. Then, it was over. Miss Kandy Appleton stopped her twirl in mid-swing and bowed from the waist. Richie began to clap loudly. The other three men joined in. "Thank you! Thank you! I just knew you'd like it. I only know one other person who can do it." Joe found his voice first. "She taught it to you?" "Gosh no. I just come by it natural, I guess. I sure wouldn't know her personally. I mean, my goodness, Elvira Queen of the Night is a big movie star." Duncan passed a shaking hand over his face. "Elvira." Just then, Kandy shivered dramatically. "My, it's chilly in here. I think I'll go get dressed then you all can tell me what you think." As she turned to leave, Kandy's foot snagged on the leg of MacLeod's chair and she stumbled. Moving quickly, Richie caught the young lady and hauled her upright, but in doing so, he brushed against one of her...tassels and it detached and fluttered underneath the table . "Oh!" Kandy squealed, raising her arms to cover whatever womanly secrets she still had left. Turning bright red, Richie muttered, "Sorry," and dove after the bit of cloth. As he crawled under the table, he noticed Mac's hand was resting on Methos' knee. Even as he did a bit of a double take and looked again, Richie saw the old man shift a little in his seat and Mac's hand begin to creep higher. What the hell? Backing up with his prize, Richie shook his head. Time enough to think about whatever that was later. Standing he held out the bit of cloth. "Here you are, your, er, er..." "Pastie." Kandy supplied helpfully. "Pastie. Right. I, by the way, am Richie Ryan." "Sure, Richie. Joe told me about you too. Are you here to help me?" Richie smoothly replied. "Definitely. You couldn't pry me away." Leaning in to plant a kiss on the young man's cheek, Kandy said, "Thanks Richie. I'll be back in a minute." She turned and hurried back to get dressed. Richie fell into a chair and said, "Who was that?" Methos said sardonically, "That dear boy was Miss Kandy Appleton." "That's Kandy with a 'K'." Duncan reminded him. "Kandy with a 'K'. Joe wants her to be the next Miss Seacouver. And you, Ryan, are going to help." Far from being reluctant, Richie was positively eager to lend a hand. No big surprise there, Mac thought fondly. Richie was definitely a budding Casanova. And Kandy was going to need even more help since it was obvious she couldn't... Methos leaned forward. "So who's going to tell her?" "Tell her what?" Richie asked. Duncan sat back and crossed his arms. "Why Methos, you're going to tell her. After all, you're her coach, remember?" "Tell her what?" Richie asked again. "Fine. I will." Walking up, Kandy ask, "Tell me what?" Taking a deep breath, Methos began. "Your talent is certainly unique. Why, if I live to be six thousand I don't think I'll ever forget it." Snorts sounded from various sites around the table as Methos continued. "Unfortunately, Seacouver is a small town with a small town's mores. Placing it in a historical context, mankind is going through an era of sexual repression that--" Taking over in disgust, Richie took Kandy's hand in his and said earnestly, "Oh, I get it. What he'll finally come around to saying sometime next week is that this act just won't work for the contest. It's probably run by a bunch of old fuddy-duddies and you'd give 'em all coronaries. Do you understand?" Kandy nodded slowly. "I guess so. But what can I do then?" Joe spoke up. "You certainly have a fine sense of rhythm, do you dance?" "Not really, I used to be a baton twirler in high school though. But I have no idea where to find batons around here." "Baton twirling." Methos considered the possibility of finding other quantifiable talents in only three days. He shrugged. "Fine. Baton twirling it is. Make sure you practice before the performance." Richie scrambled to his feet and drew Kandy up with him. "Leave everything to me. My motorcycle is right outside. Let's go get you some batons then meet back later at the dojo. After all, Adam will certainly want to see you practice. Right, Coach Pierson?" Clinching his jaw, Methos responded. "I can't wait. Just don't get so carried away you forget to bring her back." "Ohhh..." Kandy's high-pitched squeal caused her audience to wince. "I just love motorcycles. All that hot, hard power. Bye you all." Richie ran a dramatic finger around the edge of his collar and grinned cheekily. "Is it only me or did the bar just get really hot and stuffy?" The two young people hurried out as the three men exchanged knowing looks. Methos shook his head. "The lustiness of youth. If Ryan remembers where the dojo is, I'll be surprised." Rubbing a big hand up and down his friend's back, Duncan chuckled, "Now Methos. Just because you're so old you wouldn't know what to do with a lusty youth if you tripped over one doesn't mean they're all totally irresponsible. If Richie said he'd get her to the dojo, he'll get her to the dojo--eventually," he snickered. "So I wouldn't know what to do with one, would I? Remember Duncan, compared to me, everyone is a youth--even you. I'll have to get back to you on the lusty part, of course." Joe studied the two Immortals. What was going on with them? Making a fist, he tapped loudly on the table. "Guys. Hey, guys! We're done here. I really am grateful to both of you for your help with this. Thanks." Grabbing the old man's arm, Mac practically dragged him to the door. "You're welcome, Joe. See you later."                                            --------------- Back at the loft, each man was lost in his own thoughts. Finally, grabbing a beer, Methos flicked its lid behind the fridge with a fancy backhand and flopped onto the couch. Taking a long swallow, he said, "You know MacLeod, you were right. I think Joe does suspect something." Joining the old Immortal, Duncan swigged thoughtfully at his own brew. "I don't know. I mean what could he possibly know, really?" Absently, Mac reached out and began to run his fingers through the soft tendrils of hair lying against the back of Methos' neck. Rubbing his free hand up and down Mac's thigh, Methos said, "That's true, it's not as if we told him...Mac!" The older Immortal sat up so abruptly that the Highlander had to catch himself to keep from falling forward. "What! What's wrong?" "Duncan, what were we doing just now?" Totally perplexed, the Scot wrinkled his brow and asked, "Huh? What do you mean?" "Humor me. What were we doing just now?" "Well, we were talking about Joe. Specifically, we were saying that he couldn't know anything because neither of us had told him anything." "And what exactly were we doing while we talked?" "What were we..." MacLeod's eyes widened in dismay. "We were...touching each other." "Bright boy. We've been touching each other all day long...including while we were at Joe's." Mac groaned and leaned his head on the other man's shoulder. "Oh God. You're right. What do we do now?" "There's nothing to do. We try not to do it next time. Other than that, Joe can suspect all he wants to, as long as we don't confirm anything, it's just that--suspicions. So we--" "I know, I know. 'Do nothing'." "You're learning, Highlander. You're learning." MacLeod smiled. "They say experience is the best teacher. How about giving me another lesson?" Dropping a swift kiss on the soft, full lips near his own, Methos pulled away. Sighing dramatically he said, "I'd love to but you'd hate me in the morning." Confused, Mac said, "What? In the morning? I was thinking more along the lines of a little 'slam, bam, thank you Methos', myself." "My, that does sound so wonderfully tempting. But aren't you forgetting something?" "What?" Narrowing his eyes in disgruntlement, Methos said, "I have coaching duties to attend to. You really should remember since you're the one who got me into them." Unable to think of a comeback, MacLeod decided to halt the discussion before it started and threw himself on top of the old man. He proceeded to kiss the ancient Immortal so thoroughly that Methos was quite bereft of the power of speech. Hopping to his feet, Mac grinned smugly down at the dazed man. "You know, if you're very good at your job, I may just have to give you a bonus." Methos stretched sinuously and had to smile. "Coaching is just one of my many talents, MacLeod. Wait'll you see what I do for an encore." The Highlander shivered at the possibilities. "Later." It was a promise. "Definitely."                                            --------------- Methos and Richie exchanged glances. Kandy's act wasn't bad, but there wasn't any pizzazz. Hot and discouraged, Kandy sank to the floor. "This just ain't good enough. Richie, we've got to do that special trick." "Now Kandy, I don't know if that's such a good idea." Glancing at the tear in his brand new leather jacket, Richie concluded, "You're kind of accident prone." Feeling a reluctant flicker of sympathy for the girl, Methos decided to go for it. "Now Richie, as Kandy would say, it's time to fish or cut bait. Let's give whatever it is a chance, shall we?" "Okay. You're the boss." Richie still seemed reluctant. "But, I'm telling you, there's not really enough room in here." "Not enough room?" Kandy dug through a big duffel bag stashed in one corner. Then she sat cross-legged on the floor and fitted something that looked like socks over the ends of her batons. "Oh there's plenty of room for a simple little demonstration, boys. Quit worrying, Richie. What could happen?" Scrambling to her feet, Kandy struck a match and set the batons ablaze. Methos' eyes widened. Maybe the kid was right. "Um, Kandy. I'm not really..." "It'll be just fine, Adam. Turn the music back on please." Shrugging fatalistically, Methos started the tape. The strains of 'Dueling Banjos' filled the air. As the performance progressed smoothly, both Methos and Richie began to relax. It was really kind of beautiful. Hypnotic even. A shiver of presence announced MacLeod. Richie nodded briefly then turned back to Kandy's display, but Methos continued to watch the flabbergasted Highlander advance. Speaking in an undertone, Mac tore his eyes away from the dancing flames and ask, "Methos, are you sure that's safe? What if she drops one?" "You worry too much Mac. So she drops one, what's the worst that could happen?" The music built to a crashing climax. Richie watched Miss Kandy Appleton's performance, mesmerized by the balls of flame. His eyes widened as the batons flew upward. One banged against the ceiling and then dropped straight down into Kandy's outstretched hand. But the other.....Instead of thudding flat against the ceiling, it glanced off a fire sprinkler and a series of things seemed to happen at once. With mounting horror, Richie felt everything around him congeal into slow motion as the baton tumbled down. He heard himself yell, "Adam! Heads up!" and watched as the old man turned to face the flaming missile. Methos threw his hands up reflexively but the baton had already hit its mark. The air surrounding the old Immortal was filled with smoke and the acrid stench of burning hair as he grabbed his face. "Yeeooooww!" "Bloody hell!" Duncan stepped around Methos and carefully stomped out the flames still flickering on the baton just as the sprinkler system kicked in. An ear-piercing alarm pealed through the dojo. MacLeod grabbed Methos, bent double at the waist and still clutching his face, and hustled him toward the showers. As he passed Richie, Mac yelled above the clamor, "Richie! Call the fire department on the double. They're the only ones with a key to turn the system off once it's been tripped!" Leading the guilt stricken Kandy with him into the dojo office, Richie pushed her unceremoniously down into a sopping chair, while he called the fire department and explained the situation. That done, he shoved all the books and papers into the desk before they could be damaged further. Looking at the drenched girl in front of him, Richie felt sorry for her. She looked so forlorn sitting there with mascara running down her face. He pulled her up and hugged her fiercely. "Kandy, everything is going to be all right. I promise. You can trust me, okay?" Looking up at him, her chin quivering, she nodded slowly. Richie responded whole-heartedly to the lovely damsel in distress. But as he lowered his head to give her a kiss, he was distracted by a steady drip of water plopping on his head. "Oh shit! The loft!" Towing Kandy behind him, Richie hit the stairs to the loft at a dead run.                                            --------------- Meanwhile, Duncan MacLeod thrust Methos into a shower stall and positioned the nozzle so that water coursed down over his friend's bent head. "How in the hell could you let that thing hit you in the head?" MacLeod tried to stifle a snicker. "I mean there you were, like a deer caught in a headlight. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk." MacLeod kept clucking as he angled the spray this way and that trying to achieve the best coverage of the afflicted area. When Methos made no response, the Highlander decided to change tactics. His voice oozed false sincerity. "Poor thing. I know it must really sting. Try to think of something else. Is this the right angle for you? Let's see." Finally, Methos reached one hand up and grabbed the nozzle, growling, "Enough MacLeod! It's perfect. Just back off and shut up for a minute. I mean it. If you start gushing about how you wish it had been you instead of me, I'm definitely going to slug you." Pretending to be wounded to the core, Mac folded his arms in a huff. "Ingrate! I was just trying to make you feel better." The physical marks from the burns were already gone. The pain had subsided as well. But, standing in the stall with his back to the Highlander and cool water coursing down over his head, Methos was in no hurry to face the man behind him. Something didn't feel quite right...Jerking himself back to an awareness of his surroundings, he realized that, once again, MacLeod was talking to him. In fact, the big Scot was tugging on his arm. "Come on, Methos. Let me look." Methos knew the pesky Boyscout would keep at him until he gave in. He always did. So he turned off the water and slowly turned around. "All right, MacLeod. You win. You can help. I think my hair is singed. You can cut it for me." Putting his hand under the other man's chin, Duncan tilted his face up to the light. "Let me see." MacLeod's eyes roved over Methos' head as he reached up to touch the old man's hair. It crunched and crackled as he pressed against it. "Yes, this will definitely have to go." Continuing his examination, Mac noted the smooth unscarred skin on the ancient Immortal's forehead. Since it was obvious Methos could see, Mac swept a cursory glance over his eyes and prepared to report. Suddenly though, he stopped, his breath caught in his throat as he stared in horror at the man before him. "MacLeod? What is it? Doesn't my skin look all right? Surely that little bit didn't scar?" "No, you're not scarred. It's just that...well, it's just that..." "It's just that what? Spit it out, man!" "Ah, it's your eyebrows. They're gone." Methos blinked slowly and asked, "What?" "Your eyebrows are gone. They must've been burned off." "What???" Whirling around, Methos ran to the large mirror that ran across the back wall. He had no eyebrows. None, not even a few straggly hairs. He couldn't feel the slightest hint of stubble, only skin as smooth as any baby's. "Oh Gods, no!" Coming up behind him, Duncan tried to offer a little comfort. "It could be worse. You know they'll grow back...eventually." The old man shot him a look of pure venom. MacLeod blanched as he cast about for a positive spin on the situation. "Really, you don't look that bad without them. You have very nice brow ridges. I'd never noticed before. Makes you look very intelligent." Methos was still frowning ferociously. Duncan made the mistake of staring just a moment too long. Ordinarily when Methos frowned, his eyebrows would come together and his eyes would glitter underneath them to combine for a quite devastating effect. In fact, Mac had often thought the old man looked downright sexy when he was glowering. But now...the only thing that happened when Methos frowned was that these weird little poochy pockets of flesh seemed to swell over his eyelids. Like a small animal mesmerized by a deadly snake, MacLeod couldn't tear his horrified eyes away. It began slowly, deep in his gut. Every bit of discipline the Highlander possessed went to repress it, but it was just no use. Letting out a whoop, Duncan MacLeod bent double and laughed till he cried. By the time he had himself under control, the old man was gone.                                            --------------- Richie and Kandy expected the worst when they entered the loft. They found it. Water was flowing over the leather couch, the rug, the bed, the books, the computer-- With a bitten off exclamation, Richie rushed over to the computer and tried to frantically cover it with his own body. Suddenly, he was swept aside as Kandy draped it with the comforter from the bed. Blinking at the young Immortal through the downpour, she explained, "It's wet too, but at least it will keep the worst of it off." Richie nodded. "Good thinking. Any ideas what we can do about the books?" Before Kandy could reply, the door burst open and Methos rushed through at full throttle. He didn't stop until he reached the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Confused, the two young people had just turned towards the bookshelves when the bathroom door swung wide and Adam emerged. He had what looked like a pillow case wrapped around his head and attached with one of MacLeod's hair ties. Richie thought the resulting 'look' was vaguely ancient Egyptian with a dash of the boys in the 'hood thrown in for good measure. The Old Guy looked decidedly strange. Richie knew it wouldn't be very smart to comment but he just couldn't resist. When Methos joined them to pull the books off the shelves, he quipped, "Um, Adam? I really don't think that will work too well as a rain hat." Snarling, the ancient Immortal shouted, "Screw you, Ryan! Help me carry our books to the outside stairs." Grabbing an armload, he headed for the outer door. Obligingly, Richie and Kandy both did likewise. After the fourth trip, all the books were outside in the bright sunlight. Just as they returned to the loft, the alarm down below fell silent and the sprinklers slowed first to a trickle and then stopped altogether. Looking at one another in relief, the three hauled dry towels and linens out of the cupboard and began to wipe down the furniture.                                            --------------- An hour later, Duncan MacLeod was fuming. Joe Dawson was sitting at the desk, clucking softly to himself as he dismantled the soggy computer. Finally he sat back and said, "Well that's all I can do." "How bad is it?" Mac knew it couldn't be good. "Well, you'll have to get a new keyboard and as for the hard drive....I've got the cover off and truthfully there doesn't seem to be any moisture inside. But if you turn it on and there is....I think you're gonna have to take it to a professional Mac. I'm just not sure." Clenching his fists and biting his tongue, MacLeod surveyed his soggy domain. At first glance, the loft had been restored to its former state. The mattress had been hauled out to join the books in the hopes that the remaining sunshine would dry it more quickly. But he hadn't even tried the stereo or television and as for his mementos...he'd left the silk kimono on the wall, but it would never be the same again. Duncan stared blindly out the window wondering how he'd ever gotten into such a mess. Methos walked up behind him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Without turning, Mac said, "I can't believe this! I'm going to pull my hair out." With a quiet chuckle in his ear, the old man replied, "At least you have some left to pull out." The Highlander snickered in spite of himself and turned to face his friends with a rueful smile on his face. Methos strode across the loft, looked at his bedraggled compatriots and asked, "Anyone care to help me put the books back?" The others dutifully carried the books back inside to be replaced on the shelves. Handing him a particularly thick old tome, Richie paused, "Hey, wait a minute. Who's books are these anyway?" Methos tilted his head to read the spine. "Scottish Heraldry. Let me guess...Mac's?" "Ha ha. What about all these other books?" "What about them?" "When you had us carrying them out, you said they were 'our' books." "Yours and mine? I'm sorry Ryan. I don't share my books. You'll have to get your own. I hear Little Golden Books has a nice selection." "No, not yours and mine! Yours and Mac's. What are your books doing here at Mac's?" Looking from one Immortal to the other, Richie smiled at the uneasy looks flitting across their faces. Grabbing a book at random from the pile, Methos thought quickly. "It's private." "I kinda figured that. How so?" Richie's voice was full of anticipation. Watching from a corner, Joe shook his head. He was going to have to talk to the kid about subtlety. Anyone who knew Methos at all could see he'd already found an explanation he could foist on the youngster. Walking over to stand beside the wary Scot, Methos placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's about... religion." Every head in the room, including Duncan's, snapped up to look at the old man. Richie was having a hard time buying it. "Religion?" "That's right. I'm helping Mac learn more about certain ancient religious practices and observances. You can never get too much culture...well, maybe you could, Ryan. But then, I guess we'll never have to worry about you will we?" Offended, Richie was totally diverted from his original question. "Just what do you mean by that?" "Just that I doubt you'd ever be willing to do what MacLeod and I are doing. See this?" Reaching up he touched the pillowcase headdress still riding low on his forehead. Joe spoke up. "Yeah, Adam. I was meaning to ask you about that...Kandy said something about being afraid she'd burned you..." "Not at all Joe. I'm fine. Mac checked when we were in the shower. Didn't you, MacLeod?" Coloring, Mac avoided a sharp look from Dawson and said, "He's right. Not a mark on him." Joe sat up even straighter, Mac turned even redder and he added desperately, "I mean, that I could see. I kept trying to get him to show it to me..." His voice trailed off as he met the laughing eyes of his lover. Clearing his throat desperately, he changed the subject. "Adam, you were about to tell them about the headdress." Methos picked up the conversation smoothly. "Ah, yes, the headdress. This is actually an extremely close approximation of a pulvinus capsa. Today is Ker Incendiarius. And, of course, it is traditional to observe the holiday by wearing a pulvinus. In fact, MacLeod here, was just about to put one on too. Weren't you MacLeod?" The focus of three fascinated gazes and one challenging stare, Mac could only shrug helplessly and agree. "Of course. Couldn't observe Ker Incen--Incen--" "Ker Incendiarius." "Right. Couldn't observe it without the capsa." Methos continued, "Joe, Richie, you're welcome to join us. Kandy, you know how things were a few thousand years ago, this is essentially a guy thing. But, I'm sure we can find a part for you in some of the other rituals we'll be performing later." All three of the invitees tried to talk at once. "No way, man!" "You have got to be kidding." "Well gee, that's awfully nice of you , but..." Kandy stood up from the couch so quickly that she banged into the end table. Mac's coffee cup had sat through all the storms and floods of the day unscathed but one nudge from Kandy's lovely but accident prone knee sent it skittering to the floor. At first glance, it appeared intact, but when Richie bent to pick the cup up, he realized that the handle was lying under the edge of the couch. Scooping it up as well, he dropped it into the mug and silently handed the pieces to MacLeod. He'd been around Mac long enough to know that it was his Official Morning Coffee Mug. Kandy tried to apologize. "I'm so sorry! I just keep causing problems. I bet you all wish you'd never even met me!" MacLeod stared at the broken mug in his hands. He opened his mouth to say something polite, but he just couldn't force the words out. Finally, Richie spoke up. "It's just a mug, Kandy. Mature adults don't get upset over mugs. Isn't that right, Mac?" Yawning hugely, Methos stepped in. "Would you look at the time? I think we should continue this in the morning. Richie?" Nodding, Richie tucked Kandy firmly under his arm and led her out the door. Joe stepped close to Methos and fingered his pulvinus capsa. "Looks like a pillow case to me." He stepped into the elevator and was gone. As soon as the whine from the elevator died away, Methos tugged the covering from his head and rubbed his hands over his denuded forehead. Putting the mug down on the bar, Mac shook his head. The Highlander picked up the discarded 'ritual headdress' and chuckled in spite of himself. "Where do you come up with it? I've never seen anyone able to think on his feet like you do. What in the hell is a Ker Incendiarius?" "I'll have you know, I told them the literal truth. Ker is an old Indo-European word for 'hair'. And Incendiarius is a Latin word that means 'to set something on fire'. So we are observing that ancient tradition known as Hair Burning." He chuckled as he warmed to his subject. "Call anything by its Latin name and everyone will think it's real and important. I suppose that's why Latin is the nomenclature of the scientific community. Take the Latin words adopted for the official scientific designation of a skunk-- you know species and genus. It's called Mephitis Mephitica. Sounds grand and awe inspiring, doesn't it? You know what it means? 'Smelliest of the smelly'." Mac snorted in appreciation of this bit of semantical silliness. He loved it when Methos went into lecture mode. Those hazel eyes sparkled and the usually languid body was suffused with energy as the old man warmed to his topic. The ancient Immortal was just getting started. "You know, I read a book once-- a science fiction book that proposed we throw out all those Latin designations and do something radical, like call a dog a dog. I always thought it made a lot of sense." Grinning, Mac knew his lover could go on for hours. Unfortunately, it was growing dark out..."Methos....Methos!" Stopping in mid-pace, Methos swung around towards his lover. "Hum? What is it?" "Come help me get the mattress back in. But tell me, how about your pulvinus capsa there? You never told me what that meant." Methos laughed. "Again, just the literal truth, MacLeod. Pulvinus is the Latin word for pillow and capsa is the Latin for case. I told them I was wearing a pillow case for my burned hair." Laughing in turn, Mac pulled the other man close for a brief hug. "You are one of a kind, old man. One of a kind." "Gods, I hope so." Tugging the mattress back inside, the two pronounced the underside tolerably dry and proceeded to maneuver it onto the bed frame. Next up was a quick foray into the bathroom where Mac took scissors in hand and carefully trimmed the worst of the singed locks from Methos' already closelyshorn head. When he was finished, Methos squinted into the mirror, ran his hands over his new 'do, and pronounced it adequate. "Adequate?" Mac was vaguely affronted. Still gazing into the mirror, Methos laughed at the reflection of the man standing closely behind him. "Okay, how about superb? You could open a new business. 'The Highlander Hair Emporium'. Open nights. House calls to select clients." Pressing himself against his lover, Mac's eyes twinkled. "If you intend to be one of those 'select clients', you'd better leave me a sizable gratuity when you pay for services rendered." Leaning back on MacLeod's broad chest, Methos sighed mournfully. "I don't seem to have any money on me at the present. Do you suppose you could take it out in trade?" He ground his hips slowly back into the Highlander's yielding flesh. Mac wrapped his arms around the old Immortal's waist and pulled him tightly against him. "I'm sure something could be arranged," he murmured just as Methos arched against him once more, shivering as a tremendous yawn escaped. Mac answered with a mighty yawn of his own. Two pairs of weary eyes met in the mirror. Turning carefully in the younger Immortal's arms, Methos squeezed him tightly for a moment then reluctantly pushed him back. "Tomorrow?" Raising a callused finger, Mac gently traced the ridge of his lover's once and future brow. "Tomorrow," he agreed then yawned again. "Tomorrow."                                            --------------- Methos woke to see Duncan MacLeod gazing forlornly at his broken mug. Looking up as Methos joined him, he quirked his mouth into a bit of a pout and complained, "I really wish she hadn't broken the handle off my mug. It was my favorite, you know." "You're pouting over a mug? Let me see it." "What's the point? You might as well throw it away. It's no good without the handle." Shaking his head, Methos took mug and handle over to the desk. Riffling through the drawers, he unearthed a multitude of paper clips, ink pens, markers and such before he finally located some glue. "You know, MacLeod, to be so young, well, relatively speaking anyway, you certainly are behind the times." Fitting the two pieces of mug together, he picked up a small tube with his free hand and held it out toward the Highlander. "Can you say, 'Super Glue'?" "I didn't think that stuff really worked." Mac mumbled as he came over to watch the operation. "Lots of it doesn't." Methos conceded. "But this stuff....If you recall, I bought this a few months ago. Recommended by a chemist I know. You know that commercial where they use super glue to lift a car? Well, this stuff could lift a tanker." As he spoke, he quickly applied the adhesive. "Really? Let me see." Mac reached out to finger the connection between the two pieces. Methos slapped his hand away. "Careful! If you don't wait a full minute, it won't be dry. And, if you touch it before it's dry...There's only one way to get this stuff off skin, MacLeod. And we're fresh out of super dooper adhesive solvent, you know?" Methos slowly removed his hand from the mug. The two pieces remained bonded together, even when he swung it by its handle. "There you are. Good as new." Taking the mug, Mac carried it to the coffee pot, poured himself a cup and took a couple of swallows. "Ummmm....perfect. Thanks, Methos." Tossing the tube of super glue onto the desk, the old Immortal smiled fondly at his friend. "How easy it is to make you happy, Duncan. You're quite welcome. Now, I believe I need a shower." Putting his restored mug down carefully, MacLeod grinned devilishly. "Want some company?" "Always. But you have a job to do, Assistant Coach MacLeod." "What's that?" "Someone has to help Kandy find a suitable wardrobe for the pageant. Don't shake your head, think. I'm sure Richie would do it, but, Mac, Richie? His heart may be in the right place--but so are all his other organs. Between that girl's proclivities towards showmanship and Ryan's libido....There are rules about how much a bathing suit must cover, for example. And while it would be extremely diverting to see Kandy in some plastic and chain mail concoction, I don't think it will help her to win, do you?" "Like you care if she wins." "And you do? Mr. 'You broke my favorite mug' MacLeod." "Well she did! And you forgot the computer and my kimono--why do I have to do it?" "Because I can't. I am not going out in public without any eyebrows! You said you'd help, Mac. So help." MacLeod thought for a minute. "All right, I'll go. But you can't stay hidden forever, the pageant is tomorrow night. There must be something better than that pillow case. Although you do make a fetching sheik--you should have been an actor. An actor! That's it! I know how to take care of your eyebrow problem." "You do?" "I do! It'll be perfect. Now, I'll just get dressed and get downstairs before Richie and Kandy waltz in here." "But, Mac. What about my eyebrows?" "Patience, old man. Patience. When I get back all will become clear. Trust me." "The two most dangerous words in your vocabulary, Highlander, 'trust me'. Where have I heard that before?"                                            --------------- Long hours later, MacLeod and his two charges were ready to return to the dojo. Aside from fighting off the young people's more outrageous choices, Mac had to admit it had been fun. In a much more charitable frame of mind, the Highlander resolved to get Kandy through to the pageant with good grace. Pulling over to the curb, Mac had one last stop. "I'll be right back." "What do you need in a costume shop, Mac?" Richie asked. "Just a couple of items. I won't be a minute." And he disappeared inside. Mac was soon back with his purchases. He grinned at his two puzzled passengers and whistled a cheerful tune as he drove back to the loft.                                            --------------- Leaving Richie and Kandy below to work on her twirling routine--sans flames, Duncan headed upstairs. He found Methos sprawled on the bed engrossed in a book. Grabbing an ankle, Mac tugged until the ancient Immortal looked up from his reading. "I have a surprise for you." "A surprise? I don't necessarily like surprises, MacLeod. Is this about my eyebrows? What is it?" "If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise. Get up and come over to the desk." Doing as he was asked, Methos eyed the bag in Mac's hand warily. "What a surprise! You brought me long colored tubes? Are they straws?" Reaching down into the mass of tubes, Mac brought out a smaller sack. "No they're not straws. And, no they're not for you. This is." "So what is it?" "Your surprise obviously. Now get over here and sit down when the light is nice and bright." Perching on the edge of the desk chair, Methos tried again. "And I need to sit in the glaring sunlight why?" "So I can see what I'm doing. Close your eyes." "Why?" "Methos, just close your eyes!" "Not until you tell me what's going on!" "God, you're stubborn. Fine." Whipping a box out of the bag, MacLeod opened it with a flourish. Inside were several pairs of eyebrows all in a nice dark brown shade very similar to Methos' own hair color. Methos looked at them for a long moment then looked up at the grinning Highlander. "Where..." he began, totally bemused. "A theatrical supply shop. I've also got the spirit gum to attach them with. They gave it to me for free." He held up a small tube then tossed it onto the desk. "Now all we have to do is figure out which set is most like your real ones." Methos' hand tightened on Mac's wrist as he looked up into the Highlander's eyes. "Thank you." "You are quite welcome." Parroting Methos' earlier words, Mac had to lean down and kiss the lips smiling up at him. "After all, you did fix my favorite mug. Now close your eyes." Still smiling, Methos complied. Pulling the largest set of eyebrows from the box, Mac considered briefly. These were obviously much too big to match Methos' real brows, but he couldn't resist trying them on for size. Grabbing the tube of spirit gum, he applied it to his lover's browline. Then, he carefully placed the brows in position, pressing firmly until they stayed in place. Stepping back to admire his handiwork, he tried to choke back his laughter. Mac gave up the struggle with decorum and succumbed to deep belly laughs when Methos opened his eyes. The old man looked like the love child of Groucho Marx and Albert Einstein. Knowing the Highlander too well, Methos was immediately suspicious. "What did you do, MacLeod? What did you do?" Before Mac could do more than gesture towards the mirror in the bathroom, footsteps rang on the stairs. Mac immediately stopped laughing and closed his eyes in mute dismay. Methos resigned himself to the inevitable. Richie and Kandy entered the room and stopped short. The silence ran deep until Richie, as usual, decided to cut to the heart of the matter. "Um, Adam, what's wrong with your eyebrows?" Strolling casually across the room, Methos managed to snag a look into the bathroom mirror while still trying to appear nonchalant. He looked...bad. No, worse than bad, he looked ridiculous. Swallowing once, he shrugged vaguely and asked, "What makes you think anything is wrong with my eyebrows?" Kandy spoke up. "They didn't look like that yesterday, did they?" "No they didn't," Richie answered. "I'd remember if they did." "And why is that Ryan?" Realizing he was entering deep waters, Richie struggled manfully on. "Well, um, well, because. Damn it Adam. You look like Gene Shallot." That was too much. Methos looked from Richie to Kandy, who was vigorously nodding her head, to MacLeod, who was obviously on the brink of another outburst, and he just lost it. Bursting into laughter, he bent double and gave in to his sense of the absurd. Soon, everyone was laughing and the tension that had begun to mount had vanished. Finally, wiping his eyes, Methos looked up. The sight of him peering out from under those humongous brows brought another eruption but eventually everyone settled down. Realizing it was time for explanations, Methos took a deep breath. "I do have a bit of a problem. The truth is...I have no eyebrows. Mine were singed off yesterday." "But..." "These are fakes." Richie nodded. "The costume shop." Mac grinned smugly. "Oh!" Kandy was on the verge of tears. "You must hate me!" Methos looked at the girl for a moment then shrugged. After all, he didn't hate her-- "No. It was a freak accident. Crazy things have been happening to me a lot lately." He cast a sidelong glance at MacLeod. "I think I've got some sort of a Scottish jinx on me. Anyway, I'm fine. The eyebrows will grow back, and in the meantime, Mac was nice enough to pick my up all these nice fake ones. See?" Kandy frowned again. "But Adam, I think any of these would look a lot more natural. Why are you wearing such big ones?" Snorting, Methos thrust the box of brows at the Highlander who caught it with an 'oommph'. "I agree. Mac just had to have his little joke first. But now..." He tugged gently on the eyebrows. Since they didn't budge, he applied a little more pressure. Still nothing. He applied a lot more pressure. He could feel the flesh lifting away from his skull but the eyebrows remained stuck tight. "MacLeod. Where are the instructions to get them off?" Going to the desk, Methos picked up both tubes of spirit gum and began to read. "Hmmm...you have two different brands here. Let's see, this one says, 'To remove grasp edge firmly and pull'. I don't think so. Let's see what this one says, 'Apply liberal amount of Solvent 17B'... What?" Methos knew. Even before he turned the tubes over, he knew. Only one was spirit gum. The other was the special extra-heavy duty super glue he'd used earlier that morning. Turning to the Highlander, Methos held out both. "Which one did you use, MacLeod?" Feeling the blood drain from his face, Mac peered at both tubes then looked up to shrug helplessly at the old Immortal. Throwing both tubes back onto the desk, Methos considered his options. He could get his sword and...no, too messy, besides then he'd have to explain it all to Kandy with a 'K'. Still, it would be nice to slice the bugger up just a little. Opening the desk drawer, Methos pulled out a pair of scissors. Sitting down, he held the scissors out to the wary Highlander, handles first. As timidly as a child reaching toward a biting dog, MacLeod took the proffered shears. "You want me to cut them off?" "Yes. I mean no. Not cut them off, just trim them until they look normal. I need time to locate some of that solvent--my chemist friend seemed unsure that it really even existed." "Adam, I'm really--" "Not now, MacLeod. Cut." Mac clipped this and hacked at that with an increasingly desperate expression on his face. Richie and Kandy came over to watch and offer suggestions, but eventually MacLeod threw the scissors down on the desk in disgust. Methos knew the results had to be something less than spectacular. "Well? You might as well say it. What's wrong?" Tugging on the old man's arm, Mac pulled him to his feet and guided him silently to the bathroom mirror. Methos couldn't believe it. He would have said it was impossible to look any worse, but he would have been wrong. Even trimmed, the brows still stuck out in all directions. It looked worse than when he had no eyebrows at all. Methos' blood pressure was rising. MacLeod was apologizing again, and Methos was about ready to tell the Scot to go soak his head.... "Duncan, follow me." Leading the way to the kitchen, Methos ran the hottest water he could stand into the sink. "I'm going to try soaking them off. Heat and moisture might loosen the glue." Methos bent at the waist and thrust his head into the sink. "Keep it hot." What with the running water and constant attention to depth, temperature, and such, neither man noticed Joe's arrival. He tried to figure out what they were doing--he really did. Finally he turned to Richie and said, "Okay, I give up. Why does Methos have his head in a sink full of water?" Richie and Kandy tripped over words and interrupted each other in their haste to explain. When Joe finally had the gist of the situation, he walked over to the kitchen and put his hand on MacLeod's shoulder. "Mac?" The Highlander jumped half out of his skin and fell back heavily against Adam. Sputtering and coughing, the old man reared back away from the sink, sloshing water over everything and everyone around him. Grabbing a towel, he looked around. "Thanks a lot, MacLeod! I would prefer not to drown." "Sorry, Adam. Did it work? Try the eyebrows." Reaching up, Methos tugged savagely to no avail. "Damn!" Forwarned about the state of Methos' brows, Joe struggled valiantly to maintain a bland facade. "Have you tried ice? Some adhesives can't stand up to extreme cold. They turn brittle and break off." Snatching an ice bag, Methos filled it with cubes and sat down at the kitchen table. Clutching the bag to his head, the old man tapped an impatient rat-a-tat with his other hand. Long minutes passed with no one quite brave enough to break the silence, then Methos threw the bag onto the table with a clatter. Giving a perfunctory tug at his still firmly affixed brows, he thrust himself up from the table. "I now have a frostbitten forehead to go with my Abominable Snowman brows. Anyone else got a bright idea?" "No? Fine. I think that's just about enough." Methos grabbed the Highlander's arm and propelled him toward the bathroom. Throwing a hard look back over his shoulder, the ancient Immortal snapped, "Stay put," to their three visitors. Before any of them could respond, the bathroom door slammed shut sealing both men inside. Duncan was totally unprepared for the sight of the old man stripping down to his ivory skin. "Methos... what?" Methos grabbed the Highlander's shirt and tugged it over his head. "Hurry up, Mac. Get them off." "But, but, aren't you mad?" Continuing to undress his lover, Methos shook his head. "Why? Because I left the super glue on the desk? What good would that do?" With a final jerk, MacLeod's briefs landed in a puddle around his feet. He found himself pressed against the wall by a very aroused 5000 year old man. "But Methos, what....mmmmmm.......what good is this going to do?" Whispering around the nipple he was teasing into a hard nub, Methos raised his head. "Can't hurt. Besides, I can't really think of any other solution." Gasping, Mac managed to ask, "Solution?" "Mmmm....yes. When you think I'm sufficiently distracted, you're going to have to rip them off." The words hit the Highlander like so many drops of ice cold water. "Rip them off!? I can't!" Running his hands down the younger Immortal's muscled torso, Methos murmured, "You must. That's the only way we'll get them off." MacLeod shook his head violently even as his breath quickened and his cock began to fill. Methos grabbed the Highlander's head to keep it still. "Duncan, look at me. Look at me! You must. It's our only option. You must. Okay?" Slowly, two big brown hands came up to cup Methos' face and MacLeod solemnly nodded his promise. Long moments of kissing and stroking passed. Methos' hands carressed Mac's arousal, grasping, trailing lazy circles in the curly pubic hair at its base. Mac was having trouble keeping his goal in mind. It would be so easy to just give in to the sensations of the moment, but then....the problem would remain and he would let Methos down. He finally decided the time to be as right as it was liable to get and in one swift movement reached up, grasp both eyebrows at the same time and began to pull. Or, to be more accurate, to rip. It took a surprising amount of strength, but inevitably the brows began to come free, bringing a goodly amount of flesh with them. Unable to really prepare for something he had no experience with, Methos screamed. "Aaarrgghhh....!" Joe and Richie flinched, while Kandy hid her face on Richie's shoulder. Just as the first scream faded away, it was joined by a second that was obviously not from the same throat. It was much higher pitched and conveyed a depth of hurting that could only hint at the agonies behind it. Mac hadn't chosen his time too well after all. When Methos felt his flesh literally being pulled away from his forehead, his reflexes had taken over and he had responded. Involuntarily, his fingers had tightened convulsively in Mac's pubic hair, and as the Highlander tugged so did Methos. The waves of pain were so intense when the eyebrows finally snapped off, Methos didn't even know what he'd done to the younger man. Then he realized the keening in his ears wasn't his own and looked down. He immediately snatched his hands away and tried to apologize. "Oh Gods, Mac! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean...I didn't even realize...Mac, I did not do that on purpose." Raising tear filled eyes, MacLeod managed a shaky smile. "I know you didn't." Methos sighed with relief. "Are you all right?" Mac rubbed his hand over his abused curls. "A little sore, but that'll pass. How about you? It didn't actually bleed although it looks like it came close." Touching his forehead gingerly, Methos smiled as well. "I'll live. Guess we'd better get dressed and back to our guests now, don't you think?" "I guess we should. What are we going to say to them? No, don't tell me. Nothing. Absolutely nothing." "Wrong. We're going to tell them that I'm traumatized by what's occurred and to go off and practice on their own. We still have one more day. Besides, you and I have some unfinished business to attend to." Mac had no time to ask just what unfinished business the old man was referring to. After Methos endured everyone's reactions to his browless state, the two older Immortals deflected questions about the mysterious second scream. When they were finally alone, Methos wasted no time getting into bed. Still a little uncertain as to the old Immortal's mood, Mac approached him slowly. "Um, tired?" Shaking his head, Methos drawled, "Nope." Coming closer, Mac tried again, "Um, mad?" "Nope." "Got your sword hidden under the covers?" "That's not my sword." Grinning, MacLeod peeled out of his clothes. Lifting a corner of the covers, he crawled in. "Oh, I dunno, Methos. Looks like a sword from here." Suddenly, Methos loomed above the Highlander, pressing him down into the bed. "Maybe you're right. After all, I do intend to use it to skewer you." Pulling the ancient Immortal tightly to him, Mac smiled sensuously, "Quite right. I definitely deserve it. You should skewer me, Methos. You should do it now." He thrust his hips upward, grinding his cock against the other man's until the friction was almost unbearable. Never one to put off a just punishment, or a just reward, Methos reacted quickly. Grabbing a small bottle of massage oil from the bedside table, he sacrificed finesse for speed. Removing the cap, he poured a generous amount over Duncan's flat abdomen, pooling it in the navel then drizzling it on down between his legs. Running his hands along the glistening trails, Methos followed them to the Highlander's straining erection. Wrapping his hands around the throbbing shaft, he pumped it briefly, dropping to flick the weeping head with his tongue. Moving his hands down, he gently squeezed Mac's scrotum, rolling the balls back and forth until MacLeod moaned softly. With a last caress, Methos continued his journey until he reached the puckered muscle that was his goal. Spreading Mac's cheeks with one hand, he began to trace tiny circles around the tight opening with the other. Every time he ran his finger over it, the Highlander shuddered, and when he finally slipped one finger inside, the big Scot bucked against the intrusion. Chuckling softly, Methos began rolling his finger around inside the opening. Plunging it in, pulling it almost out. Soon he added a second finger, then a third. By this time Duncan was moaning almost continuously. Withdrawing totally, Methos reached back up to Mac's navel and covered his hand with the oil still pooled there. Coating his own throbbing shaft, he pulled MacLeod's legs into position over his shoulders and looked up. The Highlander was watching him, need and passion in his eyes. Reaching out, Mac lay a palm against Methos' jaw. He didn't say a word. For a timeless moment, their eyes locked, making pledges neither was willing to voice aloud. Then, smiling gently, Duncan lay back and pressed himself against his lover's penis. Methos nudged against the dusky opening for the briefest moment, then plunged inside. Slowly and steadily he pressed into the tight heat until finally he was sheathed to the very base of his erection Forcing himself to pause, to wait until Mac's body had time to adjust, Methos drew a deep trembling breath. But MacLeod didn't want to wait. Reaching between their bodies, Mac caught Methos' hips in a firm grip and immediately began to move. Reacting helplessly to the added friction on his cock, Methos answered the movement with a groan as he began to thrust. With Mac's sure grasp providing additional leverage, Methos plowed ever more swiftly into the tight passage. Soon he was lost in a staccato rhythm that took him deeper with each stroke. Over and over again, Methos slammed into the willing flesh, brushing his prostate with each pass, and MacLeod answered him, following his lover down into a haze of passion as Methos' . Approaching oblivion, Methos grasped Mac's turgid cock in one tight fist. Pumping in savage counterpoint, it was only seconds before MacLeod came with a loud cry. As the thick stream shot out over his hand, Methos could feel the tight muscles in Mac's ass contracting around him. It was the last impetus he needed, and he thrust wildly one last time then tensed, shuddering as his own climax overtook him. Reluctant to move, Methos lay across the Highlander's heaving chest long after he felt himself soften and slip out of Mac's body. Satiation, lethargy, other reasons that he still wasn't quite ready to explore--all held him in the strong circle of MacLeod's arms listening to the big Scot's heartbeat. Eventually, Methos levered himself up and grinned at his sleepy lover. Padding to the bathroom, he cleaned himself off then returned to the bed with a warm cloth to do the same for MacLeod. Tossing the cloth away, he climbed back into the beckoning embrace of the other man, kissed him lingeringly, and drifted off to sleep.                                            --------------- Rubbing his forehead wearily, Methos' fingers brushed over the brows MacLeod had attached that morning. They had both checked the label on the spirit gum three times. Methos had to admit this set of brows was much like his own--he felt quite comfortable in them. Now if only... The pageant was tonight. The young woman looked gorgeous. When it came to knowing what looked good on women, Mac had excellent taste. Unfortunately, all she had to do was move to spoil the entire effect. The poor girl had no concept of how to glide and flow across a room. She galumped. Actually she didn't even know how to stand gracefully. Frustrated, she turned to Methos, "I don't know what to do!" "I do. Richie, come stand next to Kandy. Okay, now let's pretend Richie is another contestant." "What?" Pinning the young man with a look, Methos said, "Come on now, Ryan. I've decided we're going to win this contest." "So what am I supposed to do?" Stepping forward, Methos twisted Richie around like a Ken doll then arranged his left hand so that it rested on the top flare of his hip while his right arm dangled gracefully down his side. Stepping back from his creation, Methos nodded. "Yes, very nice. Come here Kandy where you can see." Kandy stepped back and looked Richie over carefully. He blushed but held his position. Methos drew Kandy with him as he stepped closer to Richie. "This is exactly what you should do." Taking Richie's head in hand, Methos turned it ever so slightly to the left. "See how his head is tilted just so? That shows off his jawline but still gives the full impact of his eyes and lips. And see how his body is in this kind of half turn? No use trying to hide your major assets. Notice how the pose naturally positions his breasts and buttocks for that 'aren't I luscious' look." Kandy walked all the way around the mortified Richie a couple of times then nodded. "Got it." "Good, now stand next to him and give it a try. No, no Richie stay as you are, we're not done with this yet." Mac's Presence filled Methos' head as the Highlander descended the stairs. Stopping on the bottom step, Mac had to grin at the sight of Mr. Macho, himself, Richie Ryan posing for all he was worth. "Richie, I didn't know you were a contestant also." Richie folded his arms defensively across his chest and retorted. "Ha ha ha. Very funny, Mac. Adam made me." "That's right, so get back into position. In fact, MacLeod, since you're here, you can help too. Stand on the other side of Kandy and, as Madonna would say, 'strike a pose'." Mac looked as if his manly dignity was affronted. "I don't think so. Why?" "Because it's not enough that Kandy can stand prettily. So can all the other girls. She has to know how to make sure she's the one who is noticed--she has to stand out from the others. You and Ryan are the others. Now get over here." "Oh. Well, okay." Mac studied the other poses for a moment, shuffled into place and then....transformed. Methos' eyes widened as Duncan MacLeod became deliciously...provocative right before his eyes. Brown eyes glittering with devilish merriment, Mac tossed his hair back over one shoulder, pouted his lips seductively and generally positioned himself to be the dominant figure in the line-up. Grinning admiringly, Methos said, "Good, Mac. Very good. Kandy, look at MacLeod. Can you do that?" Blinking slightly, Kandy said. "Oh, you want me to give you the eye. I reckon if Duncan can do it, I can do it." "I reckon you can. Mac, Ryan come over here. Kandy, can you show it to us?" Kandy obligingly 'eyed' each of them. "Is this okay?" "You say that's what Mac was doing?" Mac bristled defensively. "That's hardly the point, Richie. Yes, Kandy, that's fine." Methos realized that sometime in the last few hours the pageant had truly become a team effort. Eager now, he forged ahead. "It's perfect Kandy. Just perfect. Now all we have to do is concentrate on the walk. Just like it isn't enough to simply stand there, it isn't enough to just walk around the stage--for the same reasons. You can't just stride about, you have to glide, you have to...undulate. Show her, Mac." "Me?" "Yes, you MacLeod. Don't go demur on me now. Show her." "Fine. But Richie has to do it too." "Oh he will. Won't you Ryan?" "Umm....Well, okay. But Mac has to go first." Pursing his lips in concentration, MacLeod turned on his heel and proceeded across the floor. Head held high, shoulders back, hips swaying sensuously, Mac was the embodiment of feline grace. Methos eyes sparkled and he shook his head in amazed admiration. He hadn't really thought MacLeod would even pose, much less strut his stuff. He hadn't known Mac had any 'stuff' of that nature to strut. The man never ceased to surprise him. He was damned mesmerizing, even if he did look a little campy at the moment. Speaking softly without turning his head, Methos said, "Richie, join him please. Stay about three paces behind." Richie scrambled to catch up with his mentor, and soon the two of them were winding slow circles around the dojo. "Kandy, ready to join in?" "I think so, Adam. What about you?" "Me?" "Yes, Adam." Mac drawled as he sashayed by. "Join us. Unless of course, you're all talk and have nothing to back it up with..." "Hhmmph...not bloody likely. Come on Kandy." Grabbing the young lady's hand, Methos hauled her to the front of the erstwhile conga line. "Now, let's show them how it's really done." Soon all four of them were snickering and strutting their way around the room. After a bit, Methos added a regal wave to the imaginary audience, and they all proceeded to graciously acknowledge their many admirers. So deeply engrossed were they in this activity, that it was several seconds before anyone realized the outer door had opened and someone had stepped inside. Standing as far back as possible, Joe wondered briefly if he was in the right place. It was like some kind of bizarre portal into the Twilight Zone. Those men certainly looked like Mac, Methos and Richie but... the way they were twisting and shimmying about...and then they began to wave.... Joe put his fingers to his mouth and loosed a loud wolf whistle. The hapless men all but fell into a tumbled heap on the floor in their haste to distance themselves from the parade of pulchritude. When everyone had settled down, Joe heaved a sigh. He had news that he suspected would not be to Kandy's liking. Clearing his throat, he began, "It looks like you guys are doing great. I'm really proud of you Kandy. Win or lose, you are going to make Joe's Bar proud." Coloring prettily, Kandy said, "Thanks Joe." "I've got some bad news. I checked with the Fire Department about your flaming batons. I'm afraid the fire code prohibits anything like that. I'm sorry." Kandy was crestfallen, and Richie was positively indignant. "That's not fair, Joe! We have her whole routine worked out." Kandy spoke up. "It doesn't matter now. Without the fire, my baton twirling just isn't special enough." "Maybe it will be. Adam, remember those long neon strips I bought yesterday?" Duncan asked. "Yeah?" "They're fluorescent glow tubes. I think we can wrap them around the batons and use them in place of the flames." Kandy clapped her hands in glee. "Why sure! We wore those things at our senior prom. They glow up a storm! What a great idea, Duncan." Joe smiled in relief. "Well, that was easy. I hope this other little thing is." Methos narrowed his eyes and looked at Joe. "What other little thing?" "I know I promised you a back stage pass, old man, but I guess I spoke a little too soon." "Why is that? Someone has to be backstage to help Kandy with her outfits." "All the other participants and coaches are female. No men are going to be allowed into the dressing room area." "What?" Kandy's shriek reminded all four men why they were glad she was a baton twirler instead of a singer. "I can't do it without Adam or Duncan. I can't! Richie had it all worked out. He is going to sit in front where I can see him, and either Adam or Duncan is going to stay with me backstage." Looking desperately from Mac to Methos, Joe just shook his head. "I'm sorry. I really am. Guys?" Methos stepped in. "Kandy, calm down. You too Joe. It's going to be okay. We'll work something out." Surprised and gratified to have Methos take over, Joe turned to leave. "Thanks, Adam. Being in charge of this thing has been a lot more trouble than I thought it would. In fact, I'm late for a meeting now. See you all tonight." Still mumbling to himself, Joe slowly made his way to the door and left. Turning back to his cohorts, Methos found every eye on him. "What?" "I don't see how you can fix this. Amanda's the only female we know well enough to ask on such short notice, and God knows where she is." Mac's voice was curious. "Simple, MacLeod. You're going to have to go in drag." "What! No way! Definitely not!" "Oh come on, Mac. You used to do Shakespeare in drag, remember? You told me all about it. You're the natural choice." "How about you? You used to wear togas, for God's sake!" Aware of his audience, Mac hastily added, "In your acting days, I mean. Or how about Richie?" "Me! How'd I get in this? I've already got a job!" "Well, you haven't been a guy as long as we have. It'd be easier for you to adjust." Methos had to snort. "That's about the stupidest thing I ever heard. I'd agree with you anyway if I thought it would work, but Kandy does need someone in the audience to focus on, and she seems to relate to Richie the best." "Guys, guys. There's only one way to settle this. You'll have to flip a coin." Eyeing each other warily, both Immortals nodded tersely. "Fine." "Okay, I guess." Unfortunately, between two sets of sweatpants, an evening gown, and Richie's usual state of finances, they unearthed a grand total of zero coins. Thinking fast, Richie suggested, "I know. You can do 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'." Methos looked at him. "Rock, Paper, Scissors?" Kandy spoke up then. "Why sure! Don't tell me you didn't play it when you were a little boy. You remember, you count to three then make a sign for either rock, paper, or scissors. Depending on what signs you both make, one of you will win." "Rock, paper, scissors." Duncan wondered if he'd have an advantage since only one of them had been invented when Methos was a boy . "The winner gets to keep his pants on, right?" Methos looked grimly determined. "Whatever. And by the way, snide is not your best facial expression." "Ha ha. Very funny. Let's get this over with." Between Richie and Kandy the symbols were quickly explained. "All right. Here goes. One. Two. Three!" Duncan's hand was flat to give the sign for paper. Methos' hand was clinched into a fist to show a rock. Stepping up to clap Methos on the back, Richie said. "Paper covers rock. Congratulations, old man. You lose." Methos began to sputter. "What? How is that? A rock is much stronger than paper! It's virtually indestructible, while paper..ppfftt!" "But, Adam," MacLeod said softly. "Paper covers rock." Methos could only shake his head in resignation. "Paper covers rock," he muttered for the Highlander's ears alone. "I should've known. You always want to be on top."                                            --------------- The evening for the pageant arrived right on schedule. The weather was good, Richie and Duncan were debonair in their tuxedos, Kandy was ravishingly beautiful. Everything was just perfect, except..... "Adam. Come on. You have to get out of the car eventually. It's time to go in." "Don't touch me! This is all your fault, MacLeod. As usual, you and your big mouth are directly to blame for this entire mess. I swear to you, Highlander, I will get you back for this if it's the last thing I do." Grumbling and cursing, the newly christened Ms. Ada Pierson, forced herself to leave the safety of the car. To the strange man watching from the shadows, she was an alluring package. First were the feet--large but shapely, shod in open toed sandals. Then the legs, long and slim, encased in shimmering silk that hinted at the firm musculature of the gently curving calves and thighs. The mystery man noted with appreciation the gentle flare of the derriere as his eye was led past a slim waist to a positively spectacular bosom. In fact, it was long moments before the eye could move past those imposing, but alas totally covered mounds of flesh. Traveling up the high collared neckline, the man's admiring eyes were riveted on the expressive features of the woman's face. To some the nose might be a little long, the jawline a little too hawklike, but when you added those glittering green eyes, those sleek dark brows and that shoulder length red hair, well....Ada Pierson was at the very least striking. And when a laughing Duncan MacLeod tucked her long fingered hand into the crook of his arm, more than a few heads turned to watch their progress into the auditorium.                                            --------------- With Joe at his suave best as master of ceremonies, the evening progressed without incident to its inevitable close. The finalists were announced and Kandy was amongst them. The fluorescent batons were the highlight of an otherwise mundane talent competition, and Kandy strutted with aplomb. Even her voice seemed toned down, more melodious during those times when she had to speak. When the big moment arrived, it was almost anti-climactic. After all her hard work, after all their hard work, how could Kandy not win? When she was crowned by a beaming Joe as Miss Seacouver, the crowd burst into thunderous applause.                                            --------------- Afterwards, first Joe, then Duncan stepped up to give her a big kiss on the cheek while Ada watched in silent satisfaction. Richie, ever gallant, fell to one knee and kissed her hand as she giggled with delight. Finally, as they turned to leave the backstage area, the man who had watched all of them for hours stepped forward. Kandy gasped, "Tank! What're you doing here?" Tank was huge. Well over six feet tall, he had to weigh in excess of 250 pounds, and it was all muscle. Coupling his physique with a black scowl, he was enough to make even the redoubtable Highlander gulp in dismay. Just because Mac was Immortal didn't mean he liked being beaten to a bloody pulp, and Tank looked ready to do just that. "What am I doing here?" His voice was more like a growl. "What are you doing here? I've been looking all over Seacouver for you. Come on, it's time to go." "Why? So you can boss me around some more? You can just forget it." Reaching over, she grabbed a startled Richie and kissed him thoroughly. "Oh yeah?" Both Richie and MacLeod squared their shoulders as Tank strode forward, but he bypassed the trio and went right for Ms. Ada Pierson who was still lurking in the shadows. "Fine with me. You talk way too much anyway. Now this one..." He swept the shocked Ms. Pierson into a vise-like embrace and began raining wet, sloppy kisses over her face. Instead of rushing to the damsel's defense, Duncan and Richie just watched the proceedings with shocked expressions on their face. Joe was furious. He hadn't had time to inquire where they'd found the poor lady to help Kandy backstage, but they owed her more than this! So thinking, he rushed over to the scene of the crime and began beating Tank about the head and back with his cane in an attempt to force him to let the woman go. Paying Joe about as much notice as he would a fly, Tank grabbed Ada by the arm and started to stalk off. Thinking fast, Joe stopped his useless pummeling and grabbed Ada's other arm instead. A tug of war ensued with poor Ada whirled this way and that with each tug. With a tiny bit of exertion, Tank jerked Ada from Joe's grip and began to drag her towards the exit. The recoil was so severe that Ada literally bounced off Tank's back almost snapping her neck in the process. A flying mass of red curls hit Joe smack in the face as Ada's wig chose that moment to part company with Ada's head. Staring from the wig in his hand to the...lady it belonged to, Joe was really glad he hadn't acted on an earlier impulse to try to get to know the woman a little better. As his eyes lifted, he met Tank's horrified expression with grudging sympathy. Behind him, Joe could hear Mac and Richie howling with laughter, while in front of him... Tank let go of Ada, no Adam, so fast that he almost fell. Then Adam gathered his dignity and his wig from Joe, plonked it back on his head, sniffed with disdain, and marched out. MacLeod started to follow, but stopped to look at Tank. The big man had slowly slid down a wall until he was sitting slumped on the floor. He didn't look so ferocious now, in fact, he looked positively forlorn. "Serves me right. I can't do anything right when it comes to women. I can't tell a real woman from a fake one. I can't even tell you I'm proud of you." There was a little squeal behind Joe and suddenly Kandy dropped to her knees beside Tank. "You are?" Looking up at her, the big man's chin quivered just a little. He nodded. "Oh Tank! That's all I ever wanted to hear! I love you!" "I--I, me too." Tank reached up to set her tiara a little more securely on her curls. "You do? Oh darlin'!" She helped the big man to his feet then looked back at three of the men who'd helped her win. "Joe, Duncan, thanks for everything. And Richie..." She trailed off, unsure of what to say. Shrugging philosophically, Richie pulled up a smile. "Hey, no problem Kandy. Glad to be of service." Smiling softly, she said, "Thanks Richie." Turning back to the door, she pulled Tank with her and vanished into the night. Coming back inside, Methos made an elaborate show of edging as far away from Tank as possible as he passed the couple in the doorway. Joe put a consoling arm around Richie. "I'm sorry , kid." "Ah, it's okay, Joe. There are lots of beautiful women out there. In fact, there were lots here tonight." Sauntering up to Methos, he draped an arm intimately over the old Immortal's shoulder. Leaning over, he whispered loudly into Methos' ear, "So, whadda ya say, babe? Want to come back to my apartment? I'll show you my carburetor." Richie was poised to flee from a virulent outburst, but instead, Methos reached down and grabbed Richie's backside. Squeezing the firm buttocks, he purred, "I thought you'd never ask." Richie froze for a moment out of time, then jerked himself and his backside away as if he'd been shot. Rushing back to Joe for protection, he stammered, "Er, sorry Methos, I just remembered--I promised Joe, I'd er, overhaul his engine." Joe leaned back in amused horror as Mac and Methos began to laugh. Realizing the double meaning behind his words, Richie turned brick red and began to protest frantically, "No, no! That's not what I meant! Joe!" Realizing no help was going to be forthcoming, Richie edged toward the exit. "Um...I've gotta go, guys. I'll see you...eventually." He crashed into the doors at a dead run and was gone. Joe looked Methos up and down one more time and said, "You make a damn fine looking woman, Methos. Damn fine." "Thanks. I think." Nodding sagely, Joe turned to Mac. "Well, MacLeod, don't you think it's about time you took your date home?" Not waiting for the other man to answer, Joe turned to the exit himself. Looking back over his shoulder at the two Immortals, he grinned, "Good night." "Night Joe." "Night." Sweeping a swift look around the now deserted area, Duncan MacLeod pulled his lover into his arms. "Alone at last, my beauty." Anchoring one hand in the red tresses, Mac placed his other over 'Ada's' left breast and squeezed wickedly. Swatting his hand away, Methos drawled, "Sorry, you just don't do a thing for me." "Oh yeah?" The Highlander moved his hand down the Old Immortal's side until he found the slit in the long skirt that allowed him to touch the silk covered leg beneath. "What about now?" 'Ada' obligingly hitched up the long skirt to give Mac's hand greater access. "Better." Moving his hand higher still, MacLeod asked again, "And now?" Moaning slightly, 'Ada' tugged her skirt up again. "Much better." The Highlander's hand had reached the upper thigh. "What's this? Garters? Nice. I love garters." Continuing his explorations, he suddenly stopped short. "But Methos, boxers? You have on silk stockings and garters with boxers? Kinda spoils the whole effect." "Well, they're silk boxers. Does that help?" "Silk? Ummm....nice. Let me see." Swatting the Highlander's roving hand again, Methos stepped back and tugged his clothing back into place. "Not here, Mac. Take me back to the loft and you can do more than see. I'll let you help me take them off." Grabbing the old Immortal's hand, MacLeod said, "What are we waiting for? Let's go." "Slowly, Mac. Slowly. My feet are killing me." Looking down at the sandals peeking out from underneath Methos' outfit, Mac chuckled. Bending suddenly he put one arm behind Methos' knees and lifted him into his arms. "Come on Cinderella, it's time to get you home and turn you back into a pumpkin." "MacLeod, if anyone sees this....Besides, I thought you said I was Sleeping Beauty." "Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty. Either way that makes me Prince Charming." "Next time, I want to be the guy." "Okay...how about Rumpelstilskin?" Mac offered innocently as he headed out to the parking lot. "Aren't you droll? I mean it, Highlander. Don't get used to this. Just because I like things a little kinky on occasion, all right a lot kinky on occasion, doesn't mean I plan to start a new career as a cross dresser. Enchanted princesses are not part of my repertoire. Got it?" "Of course, Methos. I told you the other day. I didn't mean anything by it. I just like fairy tales." Shifting one big hand, he squeezed Methos' ass suggestively. "Particularly yours."                                              -the end- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ back to Main page                              back to Highlander fanf

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