Beginning Three

The envelope was waiting for him when he came into the bar. Just a small, padded manila envelope with a single word written neatly on it. No, a single name. A name that drove the remaining sleep from Joe Dawson's eyes and had him scrambling for a phone.



Duncan MacLeod snarled at the phone, wishing he'd thought to unplugged the damn thing last night. Grabbing the phone, he drew it quickly under the covers, letting in as little of the cold air as he could manage.

"MacLeod. This better be good." He snapped.

"Mac, this is Joe. Do you know where Methos is? I've tried his place but he's not there."

"Uh? Why?" MacLeod mumbled, trying to rub at his eyes without actually uncocooning himself.

"Something's come for him to the bar." Joe sounded worried.

"So? W....ah, he can pick it up later."

"Mac, you're not listening. Something. Came. To. The. Bar. For. Methos. Not for Adam."

That woke MacLeod up. "Damn. Listen, I'll see if I can find him. Be there as soon as possible."

"Right. Thanks." Joe hung up and so did MacLeod. Once the phone was safely out of the cocoon, MacLeod rolled over, reaching out to draw his bed partner close. Not that it was difficult. The ancient Immortal was already tunneling his way as close to his Highlands lover as he could manage, burrowing into his warmth.

"We have to get up, Methos."

Methos cracked one eye open and smiled, pressing hard against MacLeod. "Feels like you're already up." He purred, hand stroking MacLeod gently.

"Stop trying to change the subject. You know that's not what I meant. I. . ."

"Well, I'm not leaving this bed until the furnace is fixed. Or spring. Whichever comes first." Methos said peevishly and burrowed his way downward. The next thing MacLeod knew, his lover's warm mouth was replacing his hand.

"Methos!" MacLeod gasped then groaned. "Gods! You're one horny bastard!" Then again, maybe he was just trying to distract him. Yes, it was definitely working.

Methos chuckled, his mouth working on his lover's hardness. Over the past five weeks, he'd learned exactly what MacLeod liked and how and now put all lessons into play, working to keep both himself and his lover in this nice warm bed.

"Methos. . ." MacLeod groaned, regretting what he had to say but knew he had to do it. "That. . .that was Joe. . ."

"Mmmmmmmmmm. . ?"

"Someone left something. . .oh, gods. . something for you at the bar. . ."

"Hmmmmmm. . ."

"Something for Methos, that is. . .Methos?"

Methos had stopped moving. His mouth left MacLeod and he shimmied his way up his lover's body to look at him face-to-face, his expression serious.

"For Methos?" He asked in a low voice.

"That's what Joe said. Ahhhhhh, Methos. . .? Methos!" The last was a sharp yelp as the old man leapt from the bed, sprinting for the bathroom. The in surge of cold air took care of the little problem Methos had been dealing with and MacLeod sat up, cursing and shivering. Coldest days of the year and the furnace had to break down now! He swung his legs off the bed, flinching slightly at the cold radiating from the floor and hurried to the bathroom, already filled with steam from the shower. He pulled back the curtain and started to tell his lover to scoot over only to find that he already had. Thank the gods for a considerate lover.

"I'll call Richie and see if he can come over and wait for the furnace repair." He took the soap from Methos and began to vigorously wash the other's back. "If they don't come, we'll get a hotel room." He promised.

"In Bora-Bora?" Methos asked plaintively. He really hated the cold. He'd spent as much of his life as he could in warm climates.

MacLeod smiled, kissing the back of Methos' neck gently. "I'll tell you what." He murmured. "How about we plan on a nice little vacation where ever you want? My treat."

Methos leaned back against the other man. "Where ever?"

"Where ever."

Methos turned in MacLeod's arms to kiss him fervently. "Thank you." He murmured, resolving to repay his lover appropriately. And it seemed that he could start now as he felt MacLeod's arousal. With a grin, he reached down to gently stroke MacLeod.

"I thought we were heading for Joe's." MacLeod grinned.

"Joe can wait." Methos purred, reaching for the soap.


It was a good hour later when the two men finally arrived at Joe's. They stood studiously apart, two friends entering the neighborhood bar together. One of the things they had agreed on, at least for now, was not to tell Joe about their affair. Neither man truly wished for it to appear in MacLeod's Chronicle. Methos didn't even want to think of the possible repercussions from the Watchers, even if he was no longer a member of the organization.

"It's about time!" Joe snarled, looked uncommonly frazzled. He sat at the bar, wiping glasses with a single minded purpose, studiously ignoring the envelope resting on the bar.

The lovers exchanged glances and Methos cautiously held up a bag. "We stopped and picked up some lunch?" He said.

Joe glared at him then abruptly relaxed. "Sorry." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "My nerves are shot. Thanks for the lunch."

"It's just chicken." Methos smiled, setting the bag on a table and started to pull containers from it. MacLeod ducked behind the count and gathered together some sodas, leaving Joe free to make his way to the table. The Highlander noticed the mortal's wide berth around the package and grinned, picking it up and adding it to his burden.

"When did it come?" Methos asked pleasantly, eyeing the envelope as MacLeod dropped it in the center of the table.

"It was just here when I came in this morning. Sitting right where you saw it. Scared the hell out of me."

end beginning three

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