Anchor links to second story
Swinging the sword was easier than finding a place to put it and they shifted places continuously, attempting to find an opening in near solid defenses. Their voices rose above the din, full of vexation and the words extremely impolite.
"Phew. Can you fight like this drunk?" said Connor.
"Why, I wouldn't hurt you for the world..." returned Duncan.
"You're such a sinner." The clash of steel. "Oww!"
"Hear him sing!" That earned him another slap with the flat of the sword on the south end. Duncan ducked around the nearest column, rubbing the sting and glared around the pole.
"It's an awful thing, but you needn't act like a mad wolf, heh heh heh," cat-called the older MacLeod.
"First thing you know, you'll be stabbing YOURSELF--" he had to leap sidelong, whirling in midair to escape. The return comment did not pass the censor. Duncan remembered belatedly why he should never wear a white shirt for this.
"Now who's singing? Mercy, you can't carry a tune in a bucket!"
"Go boil your head," retorted the younger Scot, rubbing at the bloodstain on his ribcage.
"Doodlebug." The thud of someone against the wall.
"Getting kind of violent like, hmm?" said sweetly. "You sound like an old goat stuck in the mud----WHOOF!"
A wrestle of bodies and appalling language...then a break. The twin swords arced in circles.
"This would be over by now if you'd quit wiggling like a piece of string," said conversationally.
"Heh. Feeling a bit lucky today?"
"Your momma."
"Just because you were sired out of a mule..."
"MULE? No mules in the highlands, you old coot."
"Sheep and goats - take your pick."
"You are hell bent to die today!"
"Grouchy old dog."
Something hit the dirt. Hard. "Whatcha' doing? Plowing with your nose?" The speaker moved adroitly. The other man had come off the ground in a smooth roll. Duncan was hard pressed to avoid the sweeping blade and the juggernaut that drove it.
"I'm going to slap you to a peak and slap the peak off!"
"Come on, you tall drink of water..." laughed the dark immortal.
"Bean blossom."
"Stink weed."
"Sheep nurse."
"Horse thief." He caught him on the shoulder.
"A mere pinprick."
"By my count, you look more like a pincushion!" Again, the flat of a blade on his butt in passing. He grinned in good humor, awash in the kiss of the swords, the familiar banter. The evidence of affection running below the words. Home.
"Lemonade anyone?" Her voice was crystal pure. Tessa sat the tray on the bench and eyed them.
"Lemonade?"
"Don't pout, old man, she always adds whiskey to mine."
"Ahh, a woman after my own heart..." The comment was worth it for her light laugh and the other immortal's frown. "Quit scowling, boy, looks like one long woolly worm for an eyebrow."
"BOY!?"
"Just a wee lad yet."
"Whew." Tessa stepped back from them. "You're BOTH boys and you smell like pigs."
They looked at one another, suddenly inspired.
"Sheep?"
"Goats, for sure..."
MacNair 9/2/00
Connor MacLeod turned over abruptly, jarring the entire bed as he did so. Why did he always do this to himself? he thought dourly. He hadn't gotten any sleep practically the entire night ... it didn't help that he had gone to bed at two AM to start with. He positively HAD to start remembering to put this young man on the couch!
Duncan, one arm thrown across the tops of both pillows, snored on noisily beside him, completely unaware that the elder MacLeod had jostled him. His hair was loose and tangled around his chin. He smacked his mouth and turned over a bit -- right against Connor's back and continued his cacophony.
The older Highlander groaned and pulled the blankets more tightly around his head, practically disappearing inside them. It was going to be a long night.
"Daddy?"
The plaintive voice held tears right from the start and Duncan raised his head from the burrow of covers and gazed about for the small voice. His brain was fuzzy and his mouth felt worse from too much whisky and cards last night. The clock said six AM, far too early for anything sensible to be up. He looked towards the door of the bedroom and placed the child immediately.
"Daddy? The Tooth Fairy forgot my tooth last night." John MacLeod, a whole five years old with great dark eyes and rumpled hair, stood at the doorway of the room. He was obviously in distress.
Duncan looked sidelong immediately for the 'daddy' in question and met the calm blue eyes of the older Scot.
"John," he said without hesitation. "Did you write her a note? You know she doesn't act until you write her a little note..."
"Oh." A moments pause. "I forgot."
"Better go do it now."
"Okay," and the boy scuffled his bare feet away.
The comforter rose straight up in the air, tossed by both immortals as they simultaneously exited the bed. When it settled again, the mattress was empty. Connor seized a handful of change from the dresser in passing and barreled out the door, stark naked and on direct course for the kitchen.
Duncan, who always slept more sensibly in his shorts, followed his comrade's leading ... grinning at the image of the pale figure that led the way. If the neighbors were up and looking out, what a sight they would catch! It was enough to leave him laughing in the hallway.
Connor slapped the change on the kitchen counter and swung open the nearest cupboard. Duncan watched, mystified, as his clansman seized the sugar bowl and sprinkled a generous dollop of the crystals over change and countertop.
"Footprints," he ordered at the foolishly grinning younger Scot.
"What?"
"Footprints. Put footprints in the sugar, you idiot!" Connor was stuffing the bowl back in the crowded cupboard.
Duncan stood staring at the wash of glittery sugar, at a complete loss as to what Connor wanted. He was still trying to figure it out when his kinsman swung around.
"Duncan? Oh, hell, I'll do it myself!" He reached his fingertips and dotted them through the sugar in a meandering trail away from the change. "Now. Back to bed!"
Silent as immortals on a hunt, they stole back downstairs and reentered the bedroom -- one of them, the darker of the two, had his hand clapped over his mouth and was nearly strangling with laughter. He tunneled beneath the covers and gave vent to the hysterics that swiftly descended on him.
Connor rested his head on one arm nonchalantly just as his son rounded the corner into the room again.
"I wrote the note, dad!" he said excitedly.
"Let's see it," the man in question returned gently. Duncan must have stuffed all of his fingers in his mouth -- he was making even stranger noises now then last night in his sleep. The little boy seemed not to notice.
"Deer 2 fery. Thank u for tacing my 2" read the scrawl. Connor decided he had better work on his son's spelling more. "That's good, John. Why don't you look around upstairs and see if she came now that you've written her. You know she wouldn't go in your room if you were awake in there..."
The boy excitedly ran off. Duncan was howling under the blanket as soon as the footsteps thudded up the stairs. Connor ignored him and put on a pair of jeans. He had to pick through his drawer for a shirt that was reasonably wrinkle free. From upstairs came the ecstatic yells of a delighted child.
"Footprints? But fairies are suppose to fly," snickered Duncan.
"If they fly when they're sprinkling magic dust then they sneeze for a half hour. They have to walk out."
Duncan was certainly going to choke himself to death laughing. The tears leaked from the corner of his eyes.
"I can tell you're not very practiced with this, Duncan," said Connor dryly. He tossed a pair of sweats in his friend's merry face. "You're not a very good Tooth Fairy. And don't forget to snatch that tooth off his dresser before you come upstairs, either!"
"I thought Tooth Fairies were more ... you know ... more voluptuous!" and Duncan roared with laughter, folded over the pillows.
The older Highlander did not deign to answer. He just walked out the door. Duncan wondered if it was possible to crack a rib without having a fight first! He was almost certain he was going to find out when Connor peeked back into the room and said "Bippity Boppity Boop!" at him before disappearing again.
MacNair
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Two Fairies
10/26/00
Psst! I don't know WHICH muse to blame this on, but I'm sure somebody is guilty!