| Why Can't it be Me? by Diana DeShaun and Lisa, Duncan's Twin Disclaimer: The only thing we claim ownership of are the words. All things Highlander are owned by Panzer/Davis. Note: This was a lyric wheel challenge. The song �She�s in love� by Mark Wills was used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended to either party. We�ll never make any money doing this! :) Thanks to KatlinMac for the handing over the lyrics. Special thanks to Iceman for the idea, you�re twisted but we love you anyway. Unbeta�d but not unloved. Originally posted to the MacBeta forum for the Lyric Challenge. Don�t shoot us, we�re only the messengers. We love feedback! [email protected] [email protected] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ WHY CAN�T IT BE ME? It was happening again. Methos, oldest and, in his own learned opinion, most magnanimous of men, frowned. He didn�t know who he was madder at, MacLeod or himself. After all, it wasn�t as if it was a surprise. He�d seen it a dozen times before, and,no doubt, if he continued with this penchant for self-inflicted torture, he�d see it again in the future. Duncan MacLeod was in love. No doubt about it. The man positively glowed. It was disgusting. And, to make matters worse,he�d gathered his usual sycophantic toadies around him to celebrate. Methos snorted cynically, MacLeod was positively basking in the limelight as Richie Ryan and Joe Dawson pumped the very willing Immortal for details. It wouldn�t last--never did, but the sure knowledge that MacLeod�s current state was transient did nothing to erase the frown on the older man�s face nor the ache in his heart. MacLeod was supposed to be here at Joe�s to meet him. Not Ryan, not Joe, him--Methos, and he had the answering machine tape to prove it. For the space of about fifteen minutes, he�d even believed it--right up until Richie Ryan had burst into the bar, eyes sparkling with excitement, eager to hear all about MacLeod�s latest obsession. Hearing another burst of comradely laughter from the table behind him, Methos hunched further over the bar and, wishing for the umpteenth time that things could be different, listened to the ridiculous macho posturings and general bon homie from the cozy little group to the rear. �Joe, you should see her!� Richie enthused. �I mean, she�s...she�s...� his voice trailed off as he waved his hands in the air in vague shaping motions. Joe Dawson smiled indulgently, �That great, huh? Tell me more, Mac.� Leaning back in his chair, a smug expression on his face, MacLeod let his pride and happiness shine through, �Have you ever seen perfection, Joe? �So, when are you gonna bring her around so I can get a gander at her?� Joe asked, pouring MacLeod another shot of whiskey. �He�s afraid to bring her around us, Joe. Afraid of us drooling all over her or trying to steal her away from him.� �Like you could handle her,� MacLeod snorted at the mere suggestion. �You�d get tossed out on your ass at the first bump in the road.� He winked at Joe. �It takes a man to hug those curves.� I could handle her, yeah, handle her right into a brick wall Methos thought bitterly. Methos took a long drink of his beer, knowing mere lager just wasn�t gonna cut it. He needed something harder. Snorting, he almost choked on the next swallow. Yeah, harder, definitely harder. Seeing the dejected set of Methos� shoulders, Joe excused himself from the table, leaving the other two Immortals to their good natured wrangling. Methos� sad eyes met Joe�s and, without a word, Joe poured a healthy shot of his best whiskey. Methos downed it in one gulp, hearing the two younger Immortals rise from their table and head outside, walking by Methos as if he didn�t exist. Methos held out his glass to Joe, needing to drown his sorrows before he did something he might regret. �What the hell am I doing here, Joe?� Methos started. �I don�t matter an iota to him, but I jump when he calls. What the hell is wrong with me? He doesn�t care about me at all!� �Oh come on, Methos. You are dead wrong. Don�t you think it�d be nice if one of you two idiots admitted it? You should tell him how you feel.� Joe leaned across the bar, speaking low and earnestly. Methos didn�t even seem to hear him. �Why can�t it be me? I ask myself that time after time, and you know what? I never come up with any other answer than �because.� Just �because.� Duncan MacLeod is the most irritatingly, beautifully heterosexual man I�ve ever known.� Joe started to speak, but Methos cut him off with a chop of his hand. �No, Joe, don�t bother trying to make me feel better. It�s true. I could strip stark naked and jump in front of him doing a Thessalonikan dance designed to initiate youths into the ways of manhood, and he wouldn�t bat an eyelash...� Methos� voice trailed slowly away as the pained expression on Joe�s face finally registered. Steeling himself not to turn, he froze when hot breath puffed against his ear and a softly burred voice whispered, �Oh, I wouldn�t say that, Old Man.� A hand snaked into view with something shiny dangling in the fingers. MacLeod let the key ring dangle hypnotically for a few seconds then dropped it to land with a soft clank against the buttons of Methos� jeans. Before Methos could lift his addled gaze from his crotch, the voice came again, �You know, Methos, I�m really *big* on ceremony and tradition, and it�s not every day I get a new car.� Reaching down, Duncan seemed to fumble around for his keys, only snagging them when Methos grabbed his wrist in a vise-like grip and raised narrowed eyes to Duncan�s. With a wicked smile, Duncan drew his wrist back, pulling Methos up with it. �Speaking of traditions, I happen to know a tried and true ritual for breaking in a new car...and, if you�re good, I�ll even let you play with my stick shift.� The end! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ back to Main page back to Highlander fanfic email: [email protected] [email protected] |