Title: Wings of the Morning 3/?--Joe

Author: Figlia Della Musica

Series: Wings of the Morning

Pairing: Duncan/Methos

Timeframe: whenever you want it to be.  I really don’t know.

Summary: Joe finds out.

Warnings: slash, mush

Rating: PG simply because having a G slash story is no fun.

Archive:  anywhere else sure but just ask me first

Author’s comments:  Don’t try to figure out just what this section has to do with anything.  I just had to write something.

Disclaimer: These gentlemen do not belong to me, unfortunately, and I don’t make any money off of this.  I’m just having some fun with them.

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I’m setting up, getting ready for the day’s first comers when they enter.  Mac, as expected—he likes to show up early when there’s not much going on.  What I didn’t expect was for Methos to be right behind him.  The old man hasn’t been on very good terms with Mac lately—ever since the Horsemen, really.  I mean, they’re always so tense, so restrained, like two Immies who have just met each other and are half-waiting for a Challenge.  They still moon over each other—that hasn’t changed no matter what’s been going on, and I don’t think it’s going to—but they weren’t *comfortable*. 

 

Today, though, it’s all changed.  They’re smiling at each other, laughing, chatting.  I’ve never seen Mac this carefree around anyone… yes I have.   Tessa.  He was like that with Tessa.  Does that mean they’ve finally slept together?  I hope so.  Their little covert glances at each other, totally oblivious, the way Mac jumps when Methos comes up in conversation—and the way Methos jumps when Mac’s the topic.  I hope they don’t think they’re being discreet.

 

But anyway, that’s how they are.  I’m still thinking, trying to decide if they really did go and sleep together or if aliens abducted them and sent down replacements.  If so, I’d have to track down those aliens and thank them.  Gone are the brooding Highlander and the buried-in-a-bottle Ancient.  They’re like a couple of schoolboys, playing around. 

 

“Hey, Mac.  Hey, Old Man,” I greet them.  “What’s up?”

 

Methos looks at Mac and sniggers, and I know.  Yup, they’ve slept together.  The only people who take that line as a pun are those who have just finished the horizontal tango.  Thank God.  They’ve spent so long circling around each other that it was starting to drive a certain poor Watcher crazy.

 

“Nothing much,” Mac replies, his ears slightly pink.  He’s glaring at Methos for the snigger, and trying to pretend like he’s not. 

 

“We just came in to be social,” Methos adds, slouching onto his barstool.

 

“And drink lots and lots of beer,” I finish for him.  “Someday, I’m going to make you pay your tab, Old Man.”

 

Methos puts the back of his hand against his forehead in mock horror.  “Not that!  Not the bar tab!  How could you be so cruel?”

 

Mac and I laugh.  “I’m a Watcher,” I say.  “Comes with the territory.”

 

“Um, hey, scuse me, what the hell is this on my wrist, then?” Methos holds out his wrist, which still has the Watcher tattoo.  “I’m not cruel.”  He turns to Mac.  “Am I cruel, MacLeod?”

 

“No, you’re not cruel… never anytime that I’m going to talk about in front of my Watcher, that is,” Mac replies with a grin. 

 

“Hey!”  I grumble.  “Mac, that’s not fair.  We had it all worked out.  You tell me what goes on, I don’t follow you around.  If you’re going to start hiding stuff from me, we’ll just see how you like getting shadowed like every other Immortal on the planet.”  Actually, I have a pretty good idea what he’s talking about, and it’s not something I’m interested in Watching.  Or just plain old watching, for that matter.  I’m not super-intrusive like some Watchers are.  Some of them… well, Mac’s Chronicle gets a *lot* more detailed about certain facets of his life than I’m interested in getting.  There’s a difference between a Watcher and a voyeur, after all. 

 

Mac just looks at me, and I can tell he knows I won’t really start tailing him.  For one thing, it’s hard to do that and not be really painfully obvious.  Most of the Watchers who can get away with that are young and fairly ordinary, people you don’t notice.  Not a fifty-year-old Bluesman with no legs. 

 

They’re both sitting at the bar, and is it my imagination, or has Mac’s stool migrated a little closer to Methos’ than normal?  And is the Old Man leaning just a little bit towards the Highlander?  I watch them both for a while longer as I set up and take care of the first customers, and yup, not only did they sleep together but now they’re basically having to restrain themselves from cuddling in public.  Oh boy.  My life as a Watcher is going to get much more interesting, I think.