k'lynn Started It!

 

 

Disclaimer:  The character of Methos, Richie, Connor and Duncan MacLeod belongs to DPP. These fan fiction stories are for entertainment only; there is no profit involved.

Anchor links to individual stories:

k'lynn Started It! (or The Missing Bandanna)
A Game of Clue Adult Themes
Looking For A Cowboy Adult Themes
Slurpul
Strip Poker Adult Themes
k'lynn In The Kitchen
Valentine's Day Surprise
Vamps For A Day Adult Themes
St. Patrick's Day Madness
The Threesomes Adult Themes

k'lynn Started It! [or The Missing Bandanna]

MacNairCDC -- Sprinting by to hollar @ k'lynn

Okay, k'lynn! How the hay did you sneak by me whist I was decorating the tree today? When? Was I still on that tall ladder in danger for my life? Was I headfirst in a box? Was I dancing to Christmas music?

I came downstairs, just now, and the small pile of paperclips in my tray is all linked together. Nothing else touched ... just the paperclips!

It's gonna take me 20 minutes to unfasten them!

[Pause. Blink. Lean forward.]

Next time, be a dear and help with the top of the tree, will you? Honestly -- you don't even have the jitters at the height! My ornaments would sure be less crooked.

[From the chair by the roaring fire, with a black cat in his lap] DuncanMuse: "Ah, but you'd be missing those big-eyed bear ornaments, the cobalt blue glass one, and that Garfield cat when she left!"

MacNair, nonplussed: "I've just the thing for that, though. A brand new set of super bright twinkly lights! You know she's been angling for a gift for Ennaj!"


lynnannCDC

oh dear, I was afraid of this she's been on the phone to some technogeeky kid for the past few weeks, working on "something special" she said.

I checked the files on my computer and found one called "sprytcent.gif" I think she means "sprite sent gift" -- meaning herself -- through the computer. Traveling through cyberspace is easy for spectres. I unplug the computer when I go to work, but she must have gotten wise to that, because it was plugged in and running when I got home. I asked her what was going on, and she replied "nuttin" as she usually does.

Are you missing some ornament hangers, by any chance? There's another new pile in the closet, but I can't get close enough to identify it for sure, but could be tiny hangers.

I did question her about the virus Sharz got, but she vehemently denies any involvement in that (actually she said "dindoitnotme,nuhuh!")

The other possible explanation is that one of your kids saw you making the pc puzzle for k'lynn... .

But, just in case, don't leave your computer running unattended, and if there is a strong smell of chocolate in the air, and it wasn't anything you ate... beware!

(remember, leaving a pile of frus near the computer may distract her long enough for Duncan to lasso her, or Connor to bulldog her, keeping YOUR paperclip collection safe)


MacNairCDC

MY ORNAMENT HANGERS! So that's where they all went! [No joking!] My whole container is empty! That's why I was finding paperclips, you see ... to bend them and make ornament hangers out of them because my ornament hangers---

---oh, just hang it all!

Guess I'd better go shopping.

One question, though. How did she escape this captivating slideshow screensaver of immortals that changes every five seconds revolving slowly, mind numbingly, through 1500 some pictures?

Or ... maybe that's why only my ornament hangers and paperclips were toyed with. I mean, she left the bubble wrap in the hallway wrapping barrel and ignored that bag of shiny new Christmas bows!

Gotta love the lil' spectre!


lynnannCDC

she knows better than to mess with real bubble wrap this close to Christmas, and that virtual bubblewrap site is a lifesaver.

As for the frus: lahoffy? are you missing any bandannas or scarves? I think she remembered MacNair's screensaver and she went prepared (except for her spelling, the dizzy thing learns quick) A monitor is just a monitor if you can't see it, but a droolproof fru (or non-drool proof) has a scent all it's own... particularly if chocolate fingerprints are attached.


lahoffyCDC

Lemme see... (rummaging sounds from the dresser)

Hmm... red... blue... purple... kittens... Union Jack... HEY!!!! Where's my dragon bandanna?!?! And my unicorn one is missing as well...

MacNair? I think we've solved that mystery. And lynnann? Tell k'lyn I'll send her some of those danged twinkly lights if she'll return my bandanna in one piece. Sans chocolate stains. *g*


MacNairCDC

You're missing a *dragon* bandanna? Well ... I'd say kiss that baby goodbye because k'lynn had an encounter with ConnorMuse last night and he spotted it. Said it'd go with his sword and he jammed it down in one pocket.

I'd like to know how he *gets* anything in the pockets of those tight pants!


lahoffyCDC

So would I. Can we experiment and find out? *wg*


MacNairCDC

NOW you've done it! [Naughty text warning!]

"Hey! HEY!" Connor protested, squirming. "Watch it! Watch where you're--"

"Easy, Connor, we're just doing an experiment," admonished lahoffy.

"And that's not what we're after anyway, so settle yourself!" muttered MacNair.

The two CDC sisters had the lean immortal cornered by the garden shed, where the building met the wall of the great house. MacNair was trying to shove her hand down one of his front pockets and one of his back pockets. lahoffy had him from the other side and already had her fist buried to the wrist in one front pocket.

"What'cha got in this pocket, eh, Connor? Feels like my missing bandanna!" she chided, struggling to get into his back pocket.

"WILL YOU QUIT! You're going to hurt something near and dear to me--OW!" he lamented.

"Hmmm," MacNair announced. "This isn't quite right. Oh, I know!" She looked over at lahoffy. "Yank your hand out of there and--"

"NO! NO YANKING HANDS OUT OF ANYWHERE!" Connor shouted, alarmed. It was difficult to struggle when there were four hands on his jeans or in them.

"What? I'm out, so what?" called lahoffy. She held onto his belt so he couldn't escape.

"You stand in front of him and put your hands in his back pockets and I'll stand behind him and get into his front pockets."

Connor groaned.

MacNair giggled.

lahoffy smirked ... and then they switched places and the experiment went on.

"Easy! Easy with those hands you insane girls! You're like stuffing chipmunks down my pants!" Connor was protesting.

"Hush," said lahoffy and she kissed him to silence him.

"Hush," said MacNair and she nipped him on the back of one shoulder, which neither made him more still NOR silenced him.

"Hey, now this works!" declared lahoffy. "I can get my hands in his pockets this way. Say-y, MacNair, don't let my bandana stay in that front pocket when we're through with this."

"Okay, dearie," acknowledged MacNair. "Now see? His jeans are tight, but if you do it right, you can get four hands in his pockets."

Connor began to chuckle and leaned on lahoffy. "Is that what this was about? How many CDCers can get into my pants?"

"No, you idiot," remarked lahoffy. "We were trying to figure out how you got *anything* in those tight pants you wear! So, if we can get our hands in there, then you've got lots of room."

"Well, for ONE thing; they're only snug around my legs, silly. I've got no hind end to fill up the back, so they're loose around my waist -- perfect for bending and moving during a swordfight." Connor said it looking piercingly into lahoffy's eyes.

lahoffy, still with her hands in his back pockets, pinched him on the anatomy in question. "Yeah, you could use some more padding back here. You're as bad as old lanky butt Methos."

"Uh-oh," announced MacNair. She peered around his ribcage to eye lahoffy. "Don't turn this cat on, lahoffy!"

"What?" returned the smiling CDCer. This is kind of nice having him cornered in the ... corner ... like this.

"We'll be stuck!"

"That's the other reason they need to be loose around the waist!" he proclaimed, cheerfully.

"AAAAAAA!" lahoffy and MacNair shouted in unison.

"Bad Scot!" said MacNair.

"Wikkid Scot!" said lahoffy.

"Great Scot!" chortled Connor, heartily amused by their struggle to get out of his pockets.

~ Finis~!
Nov 28, 2001

Top



A Game of Clue

MacNairCDC

So, how did we get this double deadline on story stuff? I'm trying to deal with the strip [for some reason, that was more enticing ... go figure!] and you're trying to deal with the halo story.

And I want a stab at a halo story, but it will have to wait. I can't start something new when I've got two stories going already! [ask Sharz, she'll tell me how nutz I get when there are several stories all in progress at the same time!]

It boggles my sense of orderliness.

Yes, I'm orderly about some things.

Quit that laughing back there, ConnorMuse or I'll tell them about your midnight ride with that Moat Monster! What'd you say her name was, anyway?

Old Lady Whistle Britches?

[blink]

ConnorMuse: "She's a lady dragon, she's old and she thinks ... well she says the gentlemen dragons would never say such a thing ... but ... er ... a-hem ... some of the younger ones whistle it up to her when they see her fly by."

MacNair: "Sounds like some young men I know."

Rich: "Hey, why does everyone pick on me when I'm not around!"

Methos, from the library, [near a candlestick ::: woopsie! A game of Clue just crept in!] "Because you haven't learned to hide it as well as Connor yet. But, you're young."

Okay, okay, okay. Serious MacNair babble this morning. Probably because I'm excited about the par-TAY and because I have to do some Xmas shopping which means I'm not working on other things getting ready for said par-TAY and that has me going about 20,000 miles per hour--------um ... okay.

Shutting up now.

MethosMuse, dryly [from the library with the candlestick!] "Finally!"


lahoffyCDC

And let me guess... Duncan was in the parlor with a rope? (Practicing for the cowboy strip, you know?)

Babble on, MacNair! I'm babbling right along with you.

And whenever you come up with a halo tale, I'm sure it will be a doozy. *g*


MacNairCDC

Duncan, in the parlor, with the rope. He had nothing on Connor, in the kitchen, with the cake.


lynnannCDC

You know... if you put a period between "on" and "Connor" ~~ you get an entirely different picture *wg*

[Inserted by MacNair: Duncan, in the parlor, with the rope. He had nothing on. Connor, in the kitchen, with the cake.]


MacNairCDC

Mother-sister-baby! What a picture! OH DEAR! :-D


lahoffyCDC

Well, color me blond... I sat there for almost 5 minutes before figuring it out. Great big DUH!!

Then I had to rush to the freezer and stick my head in. *eg*

ROFLOLPIPACSPI!!!! I give!! BWAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAAHAAAA!!!


MacNairCDC Already?

I haven't gotten to Methos, in the bar, with the beers!

Or how about Richie, by the pool, flirtin with the babes?

And finally, Joe, watching it all, reaches for his guitar!


kyrdwynCDC

So, your computer's tucked away in the back... of a Wardrobe somewhere, eh?

(I don't need to put flagrant Narnia reference, do I?*g*)


lynnannCDC

lynnann with the computer in the wardrobe. The victim was the World (and I'd do it again in an instant, Copper!) yep that game of Clue just keeps on going.


MacNairCDC

Connor, in the closet with the secret passageway, with seduction in his smile.

LOL!


kyrdywnCDC

kyrdwyn... .in the secret passageway in a skimpy nitey... .and a holding a collar... ..


CBCDC

CB... .looking for whips... .that's Redi-Whip and licorice whips (pull and peel)... .ooooo, and chocolate syrup... MacLeod sundae anyone? *vbng*


lynnannCDC

Wait, wait!

I can't decide! Vanilla or chocolate? *wg*


MacNairCDC

Methos, with the camera, and his running legs on.


CB and k

Richie... ..with a smirk, a can of Campbell's soup... .and lahoffy standing right behind him... .because he's "Mmm, mmm, good!"

Gwahahahahaaaaa!


SharzCDC, howling and wiping eyes

O good gods, I can SO picture that! Bwaaaaaahhaaaaaaaaaa!!!!

Dec 3, 2001

Top



Looking For A Cowboy

"Hear ye! Hear ye! The induction par-TAY for Elir and Sheeza_Dame shall now be commenced!" announced the CDC'er with the microphone. She had lost the coin toss and therefore would be the MC for the night; announcing when dinner was ready, when the party events took place, who won, who won by cheating -- who won by cheating with no way to know for sure. (The latter was instigation for many hilarious exchanges of foreign words.) Unfortunately, being MC for the night also meant being curbed from some of the revelry because you were tied to a microphone all evening! Which meant no hanky-panky around the pool. No tossing-snappy-tarts-in-a-glass contests. No playing with any glow in the dark stars with a certain spectre that got the most enchanted look on her face with them. No floating in the pool until her skin shriveled up. No lobbing strawberries (or whatever else was handy) in case the men got too rowdy and started some burping contest! Methos could say the entire alphabet in one burp, in several languages! imnxtc would collect his discarded bottle caps all over the house and arrive with a coffee can full of them for the par-tays ... for ammunition. A rubber band could propel them quite the distance, with accuracy, as they discovered.

"Not much fun to be had until the MC duties are finished," admitted MacNair. But, Duncan had filled a snack tray with her favorite goodies and Rich promised to sneak her some brew, so all was not lost. Connor chuckled and patted her on the head like a pouting child when she lost the toss and whispered that he had a special duty for the MC this time -- so that was an event to look forward to. Besides, adding new clansibs doesn't happen every day. Now we are TEN! She couldn't resist doing a quick two-step on the platform that the men had constructed for the occasion. Whoa, Nelly! This flooring certainly carries the sound! She knelt and peered beneath the stage ... A-ha! Methos snuck a microphone under here!

"Are you looking to get your ponytail tweaked, MacNair?" sonorously announced Duncan MacLeod. He reached and placed one beefy hand on the back of her neck where it curved, preventing her from looking up.

"Ah, that would be a 'no, Mr. MacLeod,'" she admitted to the ground below her. The heat from his hand traveled down her spine like electricity. "Now let me up, I'm getting dizzy!" She sat back on her heels, a bit flushed. "Hey? Why aren't you dressed for this occasion! You're supposed to be a cowboy, remember?"

"So I heard," he remarked dryly. "But what's the point of doing all that dressing up when the whole clan has voted for me to dance and then strip?"

MacNair blinked once, then twice. "Uh-h, well ... we didn't say you had to dance first."

"See? Your eyes are glazed over already!" he chuckled.

"Now look here, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," she stated firmly. "We voted for a cowboy and we delegated YOU as the cowboy and you agreed to deliver a cowboy! You can't let us down, now! This is an INDUCTION par-TAY, not just your average run-of-the-mill, run-amok, run-the-really-young-guy around the pool affair!"

Duncan smiled a bit more and rolled his eyes. "I know, I know ... but not all of you asked for a cowboy!" He held a hand up to halt her next vociferous exchange. "I agreed to dance because Sheeza and Elir asked ... the strip part was because I lost a wager about that halo story of lahoffy's!"

MacNair scooted closer to the edge of the raised platform and looked him squarely in the eyes. Ordinarily, she had to glare at Duncan's collarbone because of the height difference, but from this vantage, she could tangle eyelashes with him! "You're not going to disappoint us, are you?"

"Did you know your eyes get a little green when you're ticked, MacNair?" he observed.

"Are you?"

"And you fluff up just a bit, like a cat?"

"ARE YOU!"

"No, I'll put on a show for them. Connor promised to stand by."

That earned him an arched brow look. "Stand by for what?"

"To keep me from being tugged off the stage and dragged away somewhere before I get to enjoy the par-TAY, silly! You think I will last up there without some CDCer trying to haul me off to their den? Not to mention Ennaj or k'lynn! I dance at the beginning of this gig ... then the party goes on afterwards."

"So, Connor is going to be up here to make sure you stay on the stage?" MacNair had a sudden mental picture of a tug-O-war over Duncan, with Connor hauling with all his strength on one arm and the CDCers pulling on the other one! We might be able to yank them both off the stage! I'll be announcing, "Pile up, stage right! Please be _careful_ with the mortals!"

"Connor will be my guard." Then he smiled. "And I bet none of you try to yank me off the stage with him up here, either!"

MacNair had a catastrophic thought. They're both going to strip at the same time? We'll have our minds erased! Shades of the movie Men In Black flitted through her head.

As if reading her mind, Duncan smirked and patted her cheek. "No, MacNair, Connor's not going to be strip dancing. Just me. He'll be dressed with a theme, but he's not dancing -- he's guarding."

MacNair was still stuck back at the beginning of the sentence and didn't register the latter. "He's not going to strip for us?"

"No," and Duncan leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially to her, "he only does private dances."

MacNair's eyes felt crossed, just like her eyebrows, as she thought. Have I ever asked Connor MacLeod to strip for me? In all the times we've pranked about ... I've never asked? Hello? Woodenhead MacNair? Hello? "Private dances, only?" It was hard to breathe, let alone speak.

"I'm surprised you've never asked him," Duncan commented, "but, I guess it is kind of a secret. Connor only does private strips because it goes to 'POUNCE' when the strip is done." Then he grinned a most wicked grin. "I won't say who does the pounce part first, Connor or the woman!"

"And just how do you know all this?" purred MacNair, every bit a cat.

"Idiot wench!" he chuckled right back. "I watched him strip for a group once and thought the air would catch fire. It's not about his body, it's about the presence he brings with him and builds around him. You've got to admit Connor has that strut walk down pat! I think he could have gotten the same effect dancing fully dressed! When he was done, the main floor mobbed him -- I had to wade into twenty eight women and dig him out!"

"The question then becomes: was he happy you intervened or did he curse you soundly?" MacNair was surprised she was relatively intelligent sounding when her mind was back with "presence" and how Connor "built it around himself." I'm not gonna swoon, I'm not gonna swoon, I'm not gonna swoon!

"A little of both. Now go back to minding your mike." Duncan turned on his heel and left. MacNair felt a little creaky when she got to her feet and was glad to have the microphone stand. Duncan is going to strip on this stage and Connor is going to be up here too? I have a ringside seat! "I kind of like being the MC!" she announced.


"What's that?" asked Rich.

"My boombox," patiently replied Methos.

"You're totally out of the loop, man, they're called 'a system' now. That's your system!"

"I had enough trouble adjusting to 'boombox,' dang it!" The ROG was wiping dust off and looking the black box all over as if he hadn't seen it for some time.

"You are running the beat tonight? Do you know what you're doing?" Richie looked skeptical and a bit alarmed. He resisted the impulse to take over and find the AC plug-in himself and clamped his mouth shut when Methos opened and shut the cassette door several times, trying to find the pause button.

"Yes, Duncan has the music all lined up." He tapped the tape clearly labeled For Duncan: don't screw it up!

"I hope you didn't let him choose his own tunes, did you? Mac has ... um ... really old taste in music! Kind of like his friends." Richie dodged the cuff aimed his way with a grin.

The crowd had arrived and they were spectacular! Sharz and imnxtc were lobbing shimmering metallic streamers back and forth across the pool and attaching them to poles on the edges. Rich had strung a nylon rope the length of the pool and the streamers down each side made a festive tent over the rippling surface. There was confetti on the tabletops along one side of the courtyard. Every candle in the great house had been brought outside and lit to add "atmosphere." lynnann filled the quietly burbling Jacuzzi 2/3's full of floating candles -- all of them golden stars compliments of k'lynn. [The little spectre popped her last bottle of Sprite open and had a winning number under the cap! She spent the whole $25 on floating stars!] There were a few large floating candles in the pool ... and one plastic duck. A permanent gag on Methos.

The ROG thoughtfully started the air compressor and the floaties were near bursting tonight! Several suspected he had done that JUST to avoid having to blow them up the old fashioned way! The two Scots had been slow roasting pork ribs all day and the entire compound smelled heavenly. Coolers bristled with sodas. The tables were laden high with salads, side dishes, and treats. Some of the dishes had warning labels that read "Eat at own risk! -- concocted by Connor!" or "Might melt your bones! Immortals ONLY and you'd better have a drink handy! -- combustion by Methos!"

Methos had put a deck chair, emblazoned with his name scrawled with a Sharpie, right next to the new thermostatically controlled beer tap much earlier in the day. It had become the instant target of pranks ... vanishing and being placed everywhere BUT his selected spot. At one point, it was sunk in the deep end of the pool. Currently, with all the guests and regulars gathered, it was on the roof and lodged partially in the gutter at a crazy angle. Methos protested long, loudly, and with vigor when he finally spotted it. The women laughed and jested with him while he climbed to retrieve it, booing at his declaration that he was going to sit "right in this chair by my new bar -- for the entire party!"

"You drink your usual quota and we'll see how long you last without getting out of that chair, Mr. Methos!" chirped kyrdwyn. "I think I'll sit on your lap and squirm about!"

"Ahh! Now, now!" he backpedaled, wondering how he would get out of this.

The teasing and hilarity continued while the girls waited for Duncan to appear: the main event!

But the Scot wasn't outside where the gala was planned; he was in the kitchen with an apron hanging off his neck. The chest flap announced 'Kiss the Chef' in black script. "Did you take the hot mats out there like I asked?" called the younger Highlander across the room.

"I did. Aren't they on the table?" replied the elder Highlander, putting several varieties of sliced cheese on a tray to carry outside. He added a few more slices of smoked cheddar and sighed, rubbing his neck. His hair was tied back too tightly and he was getting a headache. Not a good thing for a par-tay night. Headaches are suppose to be later -- MUCH later during the event!

"No, I don't see them anywhere. And what did you do with the salad tongs, mister? Last I saw, you were chasing Sharz with them!"

"Why am I always to blame for everything missing around here?" Connor protested.

"Because you're usually to blame! You've been hiding Methos' chair all day instead of helping and you burnt the first two batches of cookies! I asked you to shuck the corn and it took you three hours to get done with twenty ears! I swear, I'm the adult betwixt the two of us anymore, kinsman!" grumbled Duncan. He flipped a rack of ribs with a splick of barbecue sauce.

"The timer is broken on the stove and no one told me. Rich needed help with a rope across the pool and I had to harness up Gimp to pull the line taut -- you know Rich doesn't get along with that horse." Connor looked across the kitchen at him, bemused. "But part of what you say is the truth. I only get to unravel into hi-jinx in the CDC where I know you're around to watch my back. I can be more grown up if you'd like," whereupon he put on his very best straight face.

"Idiot Scot," Duncan chuckled. "Methos is always giving me pithy advice, so I guess you can be a kid if you want to." He frowned across the salad bowl. "Though, you and Rich BOTH being immortal kids is a bit taxing sometimes!"

"I think you're in here playing with the food so you can put off dancing, myself." Connor quirked a lightning eyebrow at his brother.

Duncan sighed and closed the oven door. "Okay. You're right. Let's get this par-TAY rolling."

"I'll help you get ready," Connor returned, stuffing the rest of the cheese in the refrigerator. "Then you can help me."


"Dun-can! Dun-can! Dun-can! Dun-can!" the women chanted. They were packed around the stage and dancing to the music that was playing. Methos had his beer hat on and kyrdwyn managed to turn one of the straws so she could steal his brew. lahoffy wore her dragon bandanna, which was a bit rumpled from being in Connor's pocket most of the day. Rich was in the middle of the pack of women, doing the bump and stealing kisses! MacNair ran down the stage and the audience did "the wave" as she passed one way and then back again. The mayhem was in full swing.

"We love immortals, yes we do! We love immortals, how 'bout YOU!" someone started chanting on one end of the throng of women and the other side answered it: "We love immortals, yes we do! We love immortals, how 'bout YOU!"

All we need is a large beach ball to come bouncing around and this would be like some rock fest! lahoffy thought. I wonder if MacNair stage dives? She's little -- we could catch her. And we've had lots of practice falling into the gutter together lately.


Warm oil worked in by strong hands; relieving tension as well as making the skin darken and shine. Making him sit still instead of fidgeting, and, like soothing a nervous stallion, bringing calmness with just the lying on of hands. Working silently, weaving camaraderie built on hundreds of years into unison and support. Adding his strength into the other's focus. One was the bystander and the other was the main event, but both would be on display.

Combing out the long dark hair, seventy brush strokes from nape to brow to add fullness and quicken the senses. The silver accouterments, shining back the reflection of faces and eyes as they were inspected. The leather. The lacing. The boots. The fringe on the chaps that danced like a hundred fingers along his calves and thighs. A kerchief fastened loosely around his neck. The hat. The spurs. Finally, standing for inspection and receiving the nod of approval.

"You're ready. My turn."


There was a balancing contest with large marshmallows going on. The prize was a front row position for a latecomer and the delight and excitement was building. MacNair and lahoffy were playing a game of clue, picking immortals and their murder weapons aloud verbally. lynnann suggested a few changes to one setting, leaving Duncan with nothing on, and broke the crowd into hysterics. Rich and Methos were in a fierce argument about which story of lahoffy's halo was the right one. Sheeza was front and center and glowing with delight at their induction party -- right along with Elir. Ennaj had turned over one of the enormous urns used as decorations in the courtyard and was perched on the top of it. The one beside her held a tray of appetizers that she'd snagged off the table. She whooped and swung her feet, drummed them against the sides of the urn and added a rumble of tones into the loud music playing.


Warm oil worked in by strong hands; relieving tension as well as making the skin darken and shine. He added more and more oil until the pale skin beneath his fingers became burnished copper with the extracts in the liquid. The colors of the fabric, spilling loose and making them both pause and blink with pride. The ritual, conducted silently and without need of instruction -- as old as their years and memory. The weapon -- cherished by both of them. The hand that slapped around the heavy hilt gripped it like the palm of a close comrade and the other man smiled; remembering this man, that sword, those clothes. They had both stepped backwards in history: one just a bit farther than the other one. Bouncing a bit to get a feel for his balance, the way the garment hung and moved with him. Finally, standing for inspection and receiving the nod of approval.

"You're ready. I'll wait for your signal."


"Yo!" announced MacNair, watching like a good MC was supposed to. "Here comes Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod!" Wild cheering erupted from the throng and it muted slightly when they spotted him -- then swelled into whoops and whistles as the Scot strode across the courtyard in a great tartan -- sans the sark. He was barefoot and the medley of colors swirled around his knees as he walked. In his right hand, he carried an old MacLeod claymore, point down so it didn't immediately set the other immortals on edge. The tip of the blade cleared the cement by an inch, an obvious testimony to the older man's acute awareness of carrying this weapon for many years. Silent and unsmiling, he came straight for the platform ringed with white Christmas lights.

"Now, how does he keep that kilt on? It's, like, seventeen feet of cloth, isn't it? Unstitched?" asked Rich of no one. "That shoulder sash doesn't hold it up, obviously. Just the belt does the trick?"

"His pleats are straight," observed Methos, ignoring the question. "Nice even folds all the way around. Duncan must have helped him dress." Rich look confused. "The great plaid usually took two men to get one of them into it," the ROG explained patiently. "Connor hasn't quite got the legs for a kilt, but he does have the aura."

"Woof!" said the MC, her standard expression for something too hotdang for words.

"Baby, let me check those pleats!" quipped Sharz.

"What is he wearing under there, you think?" chirped hayden, having almost too much fun for her little soul to endure.

"O dear!" said lynnann, imagination running wild.

"Just grab an edge and yank and we'll ALL find out!" chortled Sheeza.

But Connor skirted skillfully past the raucous bunch of kilt checkers and went up the steps to the stage two at a time. When the lights hit him, he gleamed ... coated with oil that lent him a tan cast under the lights. Slender and tall, with the lean musculature of a young man, he looked honed as a blade poised on the edge of the stage. He eyed the crowd with his trademark stare and they grew quieter and quieter beneath that gaze until there was silence. He let them wait for several seconds, allowing the tension to thicken and his presence settle around them like a great dark wing.

"Hello, MacNair," he finally said. He turned his head slightly to see her without losing sight of the group at his feet. "Would you put this on me, please?" he said softly to the petite blonde with the microphone. The quiet of his audience lent his request more meaning as he handed her an old wooden box.

What is this? It's heavy, MacNair wondered. She put the microphone in its stand and carefully lifted the lid. Lord and Ladies! She stared at the object from the velvet cradle within. O-baby-O-baby-O! How'm I going to endure this?

Connor was standing close and he bent his head, waiting. He had been letting his hair grow long at the request of some of the CDCers and it spilled down his neck, dark and loose and shot with stray amber lights. "Come on, girl, Duncan is waiting in the wings," he commented to the floor.

Two heartbeats. MacNair lifted the circlet of gold, felt the weight and the heft of the piece, and reached to place it around Connor's neck. He tightened slightly with the touch of the metal and she left one hand on him soothingly. She fussed a bit with the front, bending the soft metal so it rested comfortably across his clavicles then examined the look. No, that's not quite right. The tartan is loose and casual and the torque is too formal. She angled the green gems winking at the ends so they were slightly off-center and when she stepped back, he took her breath away.

And everyone else's, judging from the gasps and murmurs from the audience.

"I won't be dancing," he announced very softly, so they strained to hear every word. Then he walked away from MacNair, moving gracefully, almost arrogantly, every inch a proud warrior from a proud race. The kilt swung an extra few seconds with his movement. It was his trademark stride, accompanied by that mesmerizing focus of his attention -- a great beast prowling after some prey to slake some hidden and hungry thirst. Something not quite tame. Something dangerous. It made them feel as if they were in some sort of exotic danger to fall under those eyes. That level gaze weighed them, held them frozen and pierced through. "Your imagination will work just fine."

"Um-humm," mumbled one stunned CDCer.

"Do tell," announced another.

"O mercy!" sputtered a third.

"I think I need to sit down," hayden stuttered.

"Mmmmm, now that's a laddie tae take home to mother!" chirped Ennaj from her urn. She leered and waved her bottle of Scotch. "Maybe not. Just take him home for myself!"

Connor leaned to the microphone, abandoned in its stem, and whistled a blast that made everyone jump. It was unmistakably a nonverbal "We're ready." He stood, waiting, and then shifted his arm enough that the tartan slipped a bit farther along his shoulder. To everyone watching, it looked as if the bright cloth down his chest would slide off the slicked skin and then the whole attire would drop around his ankles. A huge sigh swelled out of the group.

"Don't stand so close to me," whispered MacNair. "I want to see you from a distance."

Connor stepped away after his eyes gave her one of those half-lidded acknowledgments. He put the claymore point-down on the wooden floor and rested his hands atop the hilt, looking ever so much the clansman at guard. No one made any attempt to get on the stage or pull him off of it, content to devour him visually. Seeing Connor in his full colors was inflaming enough by itself -- the addition of the torque set their sensibilities into a riot.


They heard him before they saw him. There was a thunder of sound in the distance and coming closer. The group turned to watch, shuffling themselves to see him on approach. Winged footed with a long tail streaming behind her, Duncan's fiery bay mare came around the last turn from the barn at a full gallop. She hurtled down the path toward the hedge with Duncan pressed flat against her neck. Wild hearted, completely lacking in fear and completely trusting of her master, she was a fine addition to the breeding stock. Her ears swept first back to listen to his urging, and then forward to focus on the mark ahead of her as they covered the distance. Arabask took the five-foot hedge with hardly a break in stride and landed on the cement of the courtyard, sweeping onward with her long stride along the opposite side of the pool. The tall bay fought the firm hands that reined her in, but pulled out of the gallop and was down to a canter by the time she reached the other end of the court and wheeled. Her hooves made an odd sound on the cement instead of the usual clatter of steel on concrete.

"That's why we had to keep that side clear and roped off," smugly commented Methos. He was watching the mare; the proud arched neck, the fire in her eyes, the strength in her long clean limbs. Arabask was a prime example of superb bloodlines and gentle training. It had taken the elder MacLeod three years to locate the perfect birthday gift for Duncan. "Rubber shoes," Methos observed to Richie. "She's on cement and that's hard on both her hooves and on steel shoes. It's too easy for her to fall and hurt herself. Connor re-shod her two days ago to get her ready and Duncan jumped her back and forth over that hedge the whole morning the girls were out getting party fixings. She's trying to figure out why she doesn't get to jump it twenty times or more like yesterday! Watch, now, she'll try to dump him half-heartedly. What a fine animal!"

Richie turned his head to view Methos, listening to the long informative speech that had erupted out of the ROG. It's the horse, he's watching! The lean immortal's expression was enchanted, completely captivated by the mare who snorted and yanked her bit for more headroom. She tossed her head with a shake that made the silver ornaments tinkle and gave Duncan a teasing, stiff-legged jolt to let him know he was annoying. The Highlander rode it out without shifting in his seat, one hand upraised to keep his balance -- as if he floated above her gyration. It figures, Richie thought abruptly. Methos relied on a horse for nearly everything for thousands of years. Power, transportation, trade ... he would know a fine spirited one and would love to watch them. Rich looked up at the stage and took in the visage of Connor MacLeod, unmoving as stone on the platform, his eyes fiercely alive and fastened on horse and rider. But Connor ... Connor watches his kinsman and is just as proud and delighted. Some day, I want to have that look out of these men.

Duncan finally got his pacing mount to steady and stand still. She dropped her nose at poolside and drank ... and the party celebrants got to drink in Duncan MacLeod in full cowboy regalia. He sat naturally in the saddle with one hand on his thigh and the other resting on the saddle horn. His hat was crooked. He nudged it up with his thumb and stared back across the expanse of the pool while the mare drank. Flashbulbs popped, capturing a cowboy, and the horse jerked her head up.

He wheeled Arabask at the corner of the pool and she stepped alertly past the edge and into the party festivity area. Everyone was quiet to keep from startling the steed in this unfamiliar territory. But Arabask was well trained and well handled. She picked around the tables and chairs and warily eyed the bright candles as she passed. Her ears swiveled continuously, listening to Duncan hum softly and feeling the pressure of his knees guiding her. To the onlookers, man and beast were one element, threading their way through the scene. She brought Duncan straight to the stage, where the granite Connor MacLeod stood, steely-eyed and bold. Methos appeared at her head and took the reins, murmuring to the dark-eyed horse as Duncan swung a booted foot over the pommel and stepped with a thunk and jingle onto the stage.

"Come on sweetheart. I've some sugar and oats for you," murmured Methos. Arabask whuffled his face and nosed at him, searchingly, then followed him obediently away.

Duncan looked left: Connor. Those steady eyes met his and Duncan drew a deep breath and looked out at the audience. "I heard you were looking for a cowboy?" he drawled, hooking his thumbs in the belt and cocking his hip. The silver circles on the chaps gleamed.

"Woof!"

"GO DUNCAN!"

"Make those spurs ring!"

"Ooo, baby, ooo!"

Duncan turned his head and looked at MacNair. She appeared pretty dazed and the microphone was unattended. Maybe he didn't need anymore of an introduction. "Richie, hit the play button, will you?" he called to the grinning redhead.

What's *on* this tape?the young immortal wondered ... then he heard the guitar intro. Madonna? Richie blinked, then grinned. Madonna: Don't Tell Me. Holy cow! This is a whopping good song!

The music thrummed under the stage to all the speakers Methos had hidden there. The bass came through the flooring and Duncan picked it up in his shoulders, closing his eyes to let it seep in ... sink in ... pass through the wild ride to get up here, the twinge of embarrassment, the scrutiny of an eager crowd ... wash through and wash out everything but the music and the instinct to move; to dance, to be free, to scuff these boots and make the spurs jingle. And then he was in motion, riding the music and where it took him. The boots made the stage pound and he led with his head, ducking, spinning, kicking his feet up high in the back for the jumps. The silver spurs rang. The long fringe of the chaps added gracefulness as Duncan mixed a variety of styles together in a crazy amalgam. He took the hat off and danced with it for a while, switching it hand to hand and then spinning it in his fingers and letting it sail out over the throng below him. The vest was next, shook off his arms and lost when he lifted his chin high and flung his shoulders back. A girl in the front row snatched it out from beneath his boots. He put a swivel in his hips and heard the howl that accompanied that move.

Connor had chalked the stage and Duncan spun in his boots, finding his footing in the slick silt. The amplified stage pounded. He did some silly moves, but put enough pelvis in them to hear the shriek from the watching women. A simple four-step dance while he went through buttons on his shirt -- and then he left it on. The complaint from the front row made him smile and he let the cotton gape open and the tails flutter loose as he continued to let the music soak into his bones and spirit. Methos had spliced the song and it repeated itself smoothly.

Five -- four -- three -- two -- one. Duncan stripped very slowly out of his shirt with his back to the audience. The lighting picked up the oil, the rich wheat color of his skin, the long muscles of his back and shoulders as he kept step with the tempo. He flexed his arms out and up, fingers open, and then turned, dropping immediately to one knee and curling his arm up to his face like some statue.

There was a solid wall of sound in the audience and there wasn't any "row" to the front row anymore. Ennaj had crawled on the stage, but Connor leveled a look like a sword at her and she hunkered down right where she was, on the corner, and watched. MacNair was also sitting on the stage at the base of the microphone stand.

Duncan was back on his feet now, keeping the boots moving and the spurs flashing. The sweat made his chest hairs cling together and curl. The muscle pads running down his abdomen rippled and defined. Duncan had a great body and he knew it. Not that it was a form of ego for him, but a point of pleasure. And they're mortal. I will have this body until I die, I might as well use it to bring them joy and let them get their full measure of it.

He put the undulation in his moves, gradually moving from sheer footwork to the classic drama of a strip. The smoky looks, the swagger, the thrust to his hips: he moved like a man with no skeleton to hinder him, pouring into one move after the next. He stepped on one boot and then the other, removing them both and kicking them off to the side. He slipped loose one string of the chaps where they anchored at his thigh, then the other. There was a moment of confusion while he figured out which snaps belonged to his Levi's, which were chaps. He popped the jeans snaps one -- by one -- by one, nearly losing the beat of the music in the noise his audience was making, and then turned his back and let them slide off of him. The cool air bathed over his nudity ... he had nothing on but chaps and a bandanna.

"WOOF!"

That's MacNair. Connor, do your job! Duncan suddenly thought. He jerked his head right, flipping his dark hair and shooting a glance at his clansman.

"O babee!"

"OH! DEAR!"

"DON'T STOP!"

"Fresh melons!"

"Wockity-wockity!" The hands that hitherto merely waved about, turned to hands that were palm down on the wooden deck and prepared to climb up.

The elder Highlander knew this was the moment and he took a step from his frozen immobility and flipped the heavy claymore like a baton and caught it again by the hilt with a smack of steel on flesh. The flash of the sword and the obvious effort to catch it made the more aggressive of the women halt and reconsider. Connor would never hurt them ... but he was obviously standing guard over Duncan.

He's keeping watch over Duncan, so Duncan can be utterly free to dance and to strut his stuff, thought lynnann in the back. Like a protective ring around him and -- within it -- Duncan is free! Duende happens with more than just the flamenco dance!

The music changed. It took lahoffy and MacNair, a few others, only three chords to know it was the band Creed: My Sacrifice. Duncan altered to the slower pace, leaning back and arching to stretch his back before turning. That body! Those chaps! thought fourteen women at the same instant. O, I can die now.

Duncan was completely engaged in the music, eyes nearly closed, swiveling his hips. He was gorgeous, erotic, electrifying. They watched the way he curled and leaned, the roll of muscles through his shoulders and back, all the way down through his buttocks and the long thighs. He fanned his toes with some steps, checking his balance. The fringe of the chaps was the only extraneous movement besides the natural action of his body and the long hair that cascaded over his shoulders.

The music sang: "When you are with me, I'm free ... I'm careless ... I believe above all the others we'll fly... ."

He didn't turn away for the finish; just unsnapped the chaps and stepped forward out of them. They folded in a heap of soft leather, silver, and fringe behind him. Then he reached up to the bandanna and jerked it off -- revealing a second torque around his neck, this one silver and set with a single blue stone! Covered with oil and sweat, muscles taut, Duncan finished the finale slowly, seductively, reaching out over the group he held so in thrall ... looking ever the sheik -- the slave -- a clan prince. He danced with all he was, shining bright for all to see, and, when the music faded out on him, he looked surprised that it was over.

The courtyard was full of sound: whistles and cheers and hands clapping. Duncan ducked his head sheepishly, abruptly crashing back to earth and unsure how to exit. Connor was already crossing the distance with his long stride and when the younger man half-turned to him, still a bit abashed, the wall of flashbulbs hit them like the sun. It was nearly perfect: the torques unmatched and yet, matching. Just like the two MacLeods were.

Connor draped a robe around Duncan's shoulders, fastening it around his waist while the younger man regained his bearings. The creamy white against Duncan's dark skin didn't lessen the uproar around them. "Go to k'lynn's closet. They won't think to look there. Shower and calm down and let these wenches calm down. I put some clothes on k'lynn's favorite rug for you." Connor had to speak it directly in his ear to be heard. "Let him pass," ordered the elder Highlander over the noisy crowd as Duncan walked to the stairs. "He'll shower and then rejoin us, so let him pass. Entertain yourselves with the rest of the party." He would have followed it with a glare to enforce his demand, but the happy excited faces of the crowd told him that they understood Duncan's need to get showered and dressed and back to himself. The younger Highlander went through the crowd to the main house without anyone accosting him.

Connor followed him after five minutes, sword up across his shoulder like a man having done his job. They flirted outrageously and said wikked things to him as he stalked past, but no one stopped *him* either. He passed barefooted in the great kilt, with all eyes on him, and, halfway to the haven, it happened... .

k'lynn had been a good spectre the whole night. In fact, no one had seen her at all! No candles were blown out or entire bowls of grapes missing. She had been GOOD! But she was around, oh yes, she was around! Miss Duncan riding? Miss Duncan dancing? Miss Duncan stripping? Never! She might be crazy, but she was not insane!

With Connor in retreat, however, she couldn't resist the overwhelming urge that she had struggled with for the last half an hour. It burned, it demanded, it raged! She couldn't bear it anymore! She darted down in her ethereal spectre form and flipped up the back of the great kilt -- and there were the twin globes of the older MacLeod's buttocks, exposed for all to see! "Connie buns, best-est of all!" sounded her delighted voice for all to hear. The resulting raucous noise from the courtyard dwarfed everything!

Connor didn't even flinch, as if he knew that k'lynn would NEVER be able to pass up this last temptation! He didn't jump, didn't grab for the swatch of wool, or even chide the little sprite! He just walked on and disappeared, with his dignity intact, into the great house.

"Once a Scot, always a Scot," mused Methos, slouching down in his lounge chair. "You can train them and train them ... but those old ones just don't learn new things well! I get an 'A' for trying, though."

"And just what was your hand in all of this?" chortled lahoffy.

"That was MY gold and silver that they were wearing," he replied, charmingly. Then he leaned close, five thousand years of deviousness glinting in his eyes, and looked her right in the face. "Why don't you ask me how I got my torques, lahoffy?"


MacNairCDC
Posted for the CDC Induction Par-TAY for Sheeza_Dame and Elir, Dec. 7, 2001!

Insanity courtesy of the CDCers and nearly two weeks of tempting WIPs and the curious question of "How Did Lahoffy Get Her Halo?" Can I go back to my other writing now? Huh? Please?

Top



Slerpul

k'lynn -- Sun Jan 6 2002

Roeses R rehd

MacLeods whear blu

dunkie dyd stryp...

Connie too?


k'lynn again...

juss prakissing 4 valumtyns day... .

roeses R read

lilocks r perpul

me luv maclouds

dere juss so slerpul


MacNairCDC

Slurpul? That's a ... that's almost like ... one of my insane inventions in the mortal language! Oooo, k'lynn, you rock, girl!

ConnorM: "Hey! Have you been in the closet lately?"

DuncanM, innocent expression: "ME? Why, no."

ConnorM, squinting up at him: "k'lynn's talking about us being slerpul."

DuncanM, slightly exasperatedly: "And what's so surprising about that? She always thinks that!"

ConnorM: "Because she hasn't been 'slerping' with ME lately!"

DuncanM, rolling his eyes: "That's because you always let the jello SET too hard before you go in there! k'lynn likes it fluid enough to get through a straw, you dolt! Don't wait so long next time!"

[pause]

ConnorM: "We need bigger straws!"


MacNairCDC

Tap, tap, tap.

k'lynn perked at the odd sound at her door and knelt to listen better. "Woo knok so low?" she asked the crack beneath the door that let one horizontal bar of light from without, within.

"It's Connor. The door is unlocked, lil' spook, so let me in." He sounded either very preoccupied, frowning while he talked, or holding someone at bay on the other side of the door.

"Knok down here, Connie?" seriously announced the CDC Spectre. "U shrink?"

"I'm tapping it with one foot, now open the door, open the door!" He sounded more urgent.

She opened the door, prepared for nothing -- which automatically meant that anything could happen and she would manage it just fine. (It was when she prepared for something that everything got chaotic, after all!) Connor MacLeod, balancing three bowls in his arms and sliding one with a foot along the floor, made it across the threshold.

"Ello? Jello? What a fellow!" exclaimed the sprite -- and she pounced on the bowl on the floor. (Too many witty ditties lately.)

"Whoa! WHOA!" called the Highlander, nearly fumbling the three in his arms. I should have known that she wouldn't think to take one of THESE. Nooooooo, she has to dive for my ankles for the ONE bowl that I'm not in the process of dropping!"

"Qik! Qik, Connie, U hav straw? Qik!" she demanded ... and then she was patting up his pantlegs in search. This would ordinarily please the 484 rogue to no end, but he still had three bowls of unset jello in his arms and her fingers were cold and her search was ... thorough. As if I could get a straw in my pockets anyway? he thought frantically, juggling bowls. The little imp!

"The drawer! Look in your purple drawer!" he hissed frantically. "I put a bunch in there yesterday! You didn't build something with ALL of them, did you?" There was red in his orange jello. If he didn't get those investigative hands off him, there was going to be tricolors somewhere!

"Draw'r?" k'lynn darted away and Connor slid all three bowls onto her corner table with a sigh of relief. "Find it!" she proclaimed proudly, waving one stripy straw about. Connor decided that if it were a sword, he would have been decapitated!

"Did you get me one?"

k'lynn looked sideways at him. (No, not that way, the other way ::: with head turned sideways, which is the only correct way to view Connor MacLeod when he's in k'lynn's closet.) "Shair?"

"Share a straw?"

"One sip, two sip, red sip, blu sip!"

"I didn't do blue this time. Orange, red, green and yellow today." Connor made a mental note to lay off the Dr. Suess books when he read to her.

"No blu?" She sounded crestfallen.

"Sorry, sweet sprite. No blue at the store this time." He patted her on top of the head and his hand came away coated with glitter dust. "And we'd better hurry or we won't be able to slerpul this stuff!"

Slurrp

Pause.

Slurrp

Pause. Move to another bowl.

Slurrp

Pause.

Slurrp

"U gud at this, Connie! No backwash the col'rs!" she announced, inspecting the bowl they had switched to. "Dunkie need practice."

"Not with ME, he doesn't!" returned Connor. "You get him practiced up!"

Slurrp

Slurrp

Slurrp

Slurrp

MacNair
January 7, 2002

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Strip Poker

hayden

The ladies arrived at the party only to find Hayden and the boys sitting around the table playing cards and only partially clothed.

The ladies exclaimed, "Hayden, what's going on here?"

Hayden looked guiltily around and sheepishly said, "Weelllll, we were just playing a little strip poker while we waited for you guys to get here. Remember, I'm on the East Coast and you guys did say 7, right?"

"Pacific Time, Hayden, and I've played poker with the boys and they play well. How come you still have most of your clothes and they are half nekkid?" lahoffy exclaimed.

"Weelll, we were trying out a new game. Whoever has the poorest hand gets to pick which item of clothing she wants to remove from the winner. I seem to be on a losing streak. But Duncan is doing very well tonight!" She grinned at the Scot in his boxers.

"Hayden, Hayden, Hayden!" MacNair exclaimed while shaking her head. "You little Mayhem Maker!"


lynnannCDC

k'lynn hovered behind Hayden whispering in her ear. Hayden nodded and threw down three cards. "Three, please," she said politely, smiling sweetly all the while. Connor tossed three cards her way, and turned to Methos.

"I'll stick with these," the ancient one said, sprawling a little further in his chair.

Sharz had seen the cards Hayden discarded and whispered to MacNair, "She just threw away three of a kind, and stuck with a pair of twos? What's with that?"

Duncan, in his boxers, studied his cards and then the faces of the people at the table. "I'll take one."

MacNair whispered back, "It's unlikely she would win with a pair of twos, but they're starting to get suspicious. I suspect k'lynn checked out everyone's hand while invisible."

Richie, unwilling to play after losing his shirt, brought another pitcher of beer to the table, looking muscular and very fine. Connor tossed three cards down and casually said, "And the dealer takes three."

k'lynn's howl was enough to raise the dead.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo!!!" she wailed in despair. "but u had all prity faces wid dimons!!!"


MacNairCDC

"k'lynn," remonstrated Connor, gently. "You're not supposed to be giving yourself or anyone else away like that. I swear, no more starry-stars for you if you can't be quiet about what you see."

"No starry-stars?" she moaned.

"Yes, you still get starry-stars. It's your first mistake, sweet-bee. But remember to be quiet. Pretend it's our sneak game," the elder Highlander calmly said. Gently. She has a heart of gold, he reminded himself.

Duncan eyed his mentor across the table. Sneak game? What sneak game? I think those two have their own language sometimes! "Hey! Are you playing to lose, Connor?" he protested aloud.

Methos chuckled and gulped his beer to hide it. Richie looked innocently at his cards. Hayden grinned cheekily.

"Me?" Connor returned, nonplussed. He didn't even look up from his cards. "Why would I play to lose?"


hayden

Connor slapped the mixed match hand onto the table. Hayden blushed deeply as she realized she had neglected her hand while whispering to k'lynn. A full house. Oh NO!!!

Connor leered over the table. "Off with it, my sweet. You started this game and it's about time you PLAYED."

Off came Hayden's crimson shirt, which now matched her cheeks.

MacNair whispered to her. "Oh I think they are on to you, Hayden! You are in for it now!"

Hayden reached over and pulled lynnann and MacNair into the vacant seats next to her. "I need help! Deal them in, boys"

lynnann shook her head, "Silly girl, there is almost 6000 years of male intellect sitting at this table!"

"Yes, but they are half nekkid!" Hayden grinned as the boys dealed everyone in!


MacNairCDC

"So, are you in?" sweetly inquired Methos, comfortably slumped in his corner of the table. He was nearly fully clothed. The ROG had managed to be neither the winner nor the loser in this little game of chance.

"I, umm, am *in*, I believe," MacNair said, slowly. In over my head, she thought privately.

Duncan scowled over his cards, fingers curling around the edges as if to ward off some unseen spectre. "I think I want two," he said to the dealer, who happened to be Richie this round.

"Think?" Connor chided. He fidgeted in his seat slightly, aware of the coolness of the window behind him. He had managed to have the highest hand in the last play and lynnann had shucked him out of his shirt without a moment's hesitation. He was fairly sure that k'lynn was devouring him visually from whatever corner she had taken up residence to watch the game unfold.

And unfold.

And unfold.

Duncan won a hand and lahoffy took his socks.

Methos won the next round and lost his jeans. Sheeza wasn't proof to any temptation and she leaned beneath the table to inspect his anatomy. The ROG squirmed, but said nothing.

Richie pouted that he didn't win more often. Connor suspected that the RYG was angling at being stark naked at the table. Next he'll demand to dance on it, he mentally mused. Somehow, the image was less than pleasing to him. But any of the girls up there, dancing on the table, now THAT would be a fine, fine ... damn! He hadn't been paying attention! Duncan raised, then called ... and Connor hadn't tossed away that pair of tens!

"HA!" chortled the younger Highlander. He sat back in his chair as Sheeza merrily demanded the older man to strip out of his jeans. And everyone knew Connor didn't wear anything beneath those jeans... .

Except tonight -- he was wearing a pair of men's black thongs and MacNair squeaked when she saw them. Lahoffy kept shaking her head, as if to clear her vision, and lynnann just put her head on the table. Connor was seemingly nonplused by the reaction and folded his jeans neatly beside his chair and sat back down. Methos was hiding his grin behind his cards. Richie sat with an amazed reaction on his face, looking every bit like a curious youngster wanting to know where Connor had purchased them.

"Shuffle the deck," Connor informed lahoffy. She shuffled all right ... spilling them across the table.

"Here, let me," announced Methos and the ROG gathered up the checkered-backed cards and put them through the kind of shuffle that made everyone sit up straight and stare hard at him, as if he was pulling some sort of trick. I'm old, he smugly thought. Didn't it cross their minds that I not only know this game, but I know it from inside out? Simpletons!

Duncan won the next hand, despite his frantic effort to get rid of practically every card in his hand. He was down to jeans alone. Rich won next and delightedly offed his jeans ... and socks. "They were hooked on my pants," he protested. The men looked skeptical and the women whooped. Connor scowled at MacNair, for she had worn a tank top under her shirt and he still didn't have her down to skin! She winked at him and "pant-s" Duncan in the next hand.

"Get some more beer, will you, Mac?" innocently asked Methos of the grumbling younger immortal. Duncan left the room, ramrod straight and completely nude, with a chorus of giggling wafting after him. Connor chuckled at his kinsman's discomfort and shook his head. The last party, he stripped for them. Now he's blushing like a maid. But the younger man was a sight, all honey skin and flowing hair, striding gracefully through to the kitchen.

Duncan returned with beer ... and peanuts ... and chips ... and pretzels. He looked across the table at Connor. "It's about time you lost that thong, old man," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh dear," said someone aloud. "Make it quick before I faint from suspense!"

"This isn't too thrilling to have nothing but MEN nude at this table," muttered Methos. "Need more variety."

Connor was laughing in his pretzels and lost the next hand. Lahoffy ended up confiscating the thong. "I think I'll keep it!" she announced, twirling it off of one finger.

"That belongs to me."

"You can come and earn it back, then."

"Oh really?"

"Can you two have your private confab some other time? We've a game to play," protested Methos.

Everyone at the table swung to look at him at the same time ... his stomach sank. Had to PUSH it, didn't you? he lamented. Now, the men AND women are going to shuck your clothes!

~ Finis ~
Jan 12, 2002

Top



k'lynn in the Kitchen

Some of the CDC and friends, on their way to town for parTay supplies, were chattering away a mile-a-minute, the van going slightly faster, when a shriek came from somewhere in the middle. Heads and eyes turned toward lynnann -- the driver cautiously glancing in the mirror.

"Someone please tell me they put k'lynn back in the closet before we left."

"Duncan said he'd watch out for her." Sheeza said blithely.

"Would that be the same hunk o'man that just roared past us in the T-Bird?" MacNair said from the drivers seat.

"She knows all the things she's not supposed to do," hayden said.

"All the things we've thought to tell her," Sharz, riding shotgun, worried. "She seems to get around the rules somehow."

lahoffy whipped out a cell phone and tried the main number to the compound and couldn't get through. She tried another number from memory, but Sharz in the front was the one that answered. "Well, that helps a whole bunch," lahoffy muttered. "We'll just have to go back."

"We're almost to town, we'll speed shop, breaking all Olympic records set in the event and be back to the compound in a flash," MacNair decided.

lynnann agreed. "Sharz, give everyone assignments for the store. lahoffy, call the pizza place, we'll take the ten pizzas back and cook them at the compound. MacNair can pick them up while we hit the store."

"But I wanted to go to the store," MacNair protested.

"No!" three chorused together. "MacNair, sweetie, we luvs ya, but your ability to be a speed demon in the traffic is what we need here. Drop us off and we'll be waiting for you when you get back."

She pouted briefly, but agreed. She had been known to get a little carried away with the shopping. And she could probably make enough time to swing by the bakery...

lynnann watched the landscape go by. They just didn't understand. Somehow she knew there was gonna be pell to hay when they got back.


Most of the girls were out, shopping for whatever it was women shopped for in groups of three or more, when Richie stepped into the kitchen and was surprised to be greeted with a cheery "Hiya, Richiebabe," from the Clan spectre. She was sitting on the island counter top, studiously dropping spoonfuls of something onto a cookie sheet. He stepped closer, a cautious eye on her, for she was known to swarm -- without a moment's notice -- over shoulders to perch on heads like a small animal. Fortunately it was only in her ethereal form, but it was still unnerving when it was unexpected.

"k'lynn, what are you doing out?"

"Dunkie seyd we maked cookys 4 parTay. I mayked dem."

He peered closely at the container. "k'lynn... that's cookie dough ice cream."

"I dood it wronged?"

Richie panicked when the single fat tear rolled down her cheek. The last time he had made the spectre cry he had caught it from Connor, her fierce and barely forgiving protector. "Sometimes you have to treat her like a child," Connor had explained, "if you take something away to keep her from getting hurt you have to replace it with something else. Trust me on this one, Ryan."

The young immortal practically dove into the refrigerator, scrounging around until his exultant "Aha!" and his "Ow!" brought him out, waving a roll of pre-made cookie dough. "This is what you need, just slice and bake. We're good now, right? No more tears?"

"Baby shampoo, Richiebabe. No more tears," she giggled at her own joke, hugging the cookie dough while Richie scraped all of the ice cream on the cookie sheets into a bowl and handed it and a spoon to the sprite.

"Look, I have something I have to do, but I'll be right back, okay? Don't turn on the oven."

"Hokey dokey." She licked the spoon, her eyes closed in ecstasy.


Ennaj strolled through a little later and saw k'lynn poking the plastic wrapped tube with a plastic fork. "What's with that, kiddo?"

"lynan sez no sharpie nifes. I almosted gotted it."

"I can take care of that for you," and with that she whipped out a sharp knife and handily sliced the sugar cookie dough. "You're all right now, little one?"

"I o k, sisser fren. U da bestest." k'lynn started placing the sliced cookies on the cookie sheets. Ennaj stuck her head back through the door. "Save me some, and remember to pull off the plastic."

"I no dat." k'lynn giggled and started all over again.


Methos entered the kitchen, stopped at the refrigerator and removed a beverage and was almost out of the room when he stopped short, blinked, and turned back. He pulled k'lynn away from where she had her nose plastered up against the oven window. "Be careful it's ... not hot. What are you doing, imp?"

"Bacon kookys, Meetoes," she replied. "Dey takin long time."

"You don't have the oven on."

"Not loud 2 tern on. U do, plez?"

He removed the trays and showed her how to put them in the oven once the little red light went off. "But I'll be right back, you should wait for me."


She stared and stared at the red light, unblinking, and she jumped back with a squeak when it finally clicked off. She tested the knob as she had seen others do -- after all, it was already on so she wasn't breaking rules -- and the red light went back on, so she waited some more. The light went off again and she went to the kitchen door and called, "Meetoes! Meetoes?" There was no answer, and she swiveled her head around and looked longingly at the cookie sheets on the counter top that called to her enticingly. She looked at the clock and saw the big hand was almost on the seven, and she screeched, throwing open the oven door and with oven mitts donned she placed the cookie sheets like Methos had shown her. When the fast hand was straight up and the big hand on the seven she closed the oven with a satisfied grunt. She sat on the floor in the corner, nestled up against the cupboards, her arms wrapped around her knees, toes tapping as the fast hand swept around the face of the clock. After all, the package said to bake from 7 to 11. The big hand moved awfully slow.

Connor, conducting business on the computer, became aware of the odor at the same time the smoke alarm went off. He glanced at the state-of-the-art security system as he went out the door -- the kitchen! He entered at nearly a dead run just as the wild child opened the oven door, sending billows of smoke into the air. "k'lynn! What the... " He pulled her away and confiscated the oven mitts she wore on both hands. He dumped the charred remains in the sink and doused them with water as she wailed behind him.

"No! No! Kookkys 4 parTay. U runed dem!"

"They're burnt! What made you think ... " he began as he punched in the code to cancel the automatic phone call to the fire department. The call canceled, he flipped on the exhaust fan over the stove.

Three figures burst into the kitchen.

"I said I'd be right back."

"I told you to wait."

"No cookies for the parTay, I see."

All fell silent as Connor fixed his gaze on each of the culprits. "Whose idea was this," he demanded evenly, his anger barely under control.

"I only... " "She was ... " "I tried... " they spoke together until Connor silenced them all with a hiss and a motion of fingertips pressed together to 'zip it."

"You!" He stabbed a finger at the Old One.

"All I did was turn the oven on to preheat and I did ask her to wait for me. That blasted phone call took longer than I anticipated. Sorry, MacLeod, but I didn't put the idea into her head."

Ennaj fidgeted slightly, and the Highlander slid his gaze to her. She tossed her head and explained, "It wasn't my idea either; all I did was slice them for her. Would you rather I had given her a knife?"

"No, not really. That leaves you, Ryan."

"Hey, this is so not my fault. She was trying to make cookies with cookie dough ice cream so I gave her the real thing to keep her from crying. I told her not to turn on the oven." His glance flicked to the old immortal and back to Connor. "And it should have taken some time for her to open that package."

"A comedy of errors this isn't. Be quiet," he muttered to the whimpering sprite behind him. "It's okay," he said as he reached back to stroke her hair for a moment to calm her.

"Dunkie pwomise we mayked kookys 4 partay." She hiccupped.

"This was Duncan's idea?" On cue, three pairs of eyes narrowed. The younger MacLeod strolled in laden with grocery bags.

"Where'd she go?"

"Where'd who ... " but he never had to finish the question. Connor turned around and k'lynn was no longer there. The last of the smoke was sucked through the exhaust fan.


The deadly silence was broken by a welcome and familiar banshee wail outside, and they rushed the door, trying to get out at the same time. Ennaj scampered over the top of the immortals, and Richie squirted out first, his youth and speed and life of crime putting him a mere fraction ahead of Connor. Methos followed at a more leisurely pace behind the Highlanders, but it didn't mean he wasn't any less worried; he just had more experience with spectres, good, bad, and witch-invoked.

k'lynn sat on the edge of the rain gutter, feet dangling, looking down on the crowd below her. "Dat fun!" she chortled and she jumped down to waiting hands. "Bud I feels dizi." One eyebrow seemed stuck in constant surprise and one corner of her mouth drooped a touch.

"You're always dizzy," Ennaj pronounced and strolled off to her garage, flipping her knife in a manner that made even immortals cringe.

Connor gave k'lynn a kiss on the forehead, and proceeded to mold her face like clay, bringing her eyebrow down to its proper place, and her lips back to their kissable impish grin.

"You do that like you've done it before," Duncan observed.

"A time or two," Connor admitted. "Now what was all this about cookies?"

"We needed a few things, she said she would stay with you until I got back."

"Connor said 'goway' so I gowayed."

Connor sighed heavily. "That was you? Damn it, k'lynn, you never call me Connor."

"Okies, Connie, I nefer do 'gain."

The sound was halfway between a sob and a chuckle, but then Connor swooped her up. "Let's go make some cookies!"


The van pulled up into the garage and the ladies piled out, grabbing bags and boxes. Sheeza sniffed the air. "Oh man, you can still smell that burned cake from the other day. We'll probably have to paint the kitchen to get rid of the smell."

Sharz grinned. "We'll put it on the 'honey do' list."

MacNair snerked. "After the parTay, I'm sure there'll be plenty for the Honeys to do. There always is."

~Finis~

lynnann
16 Feb 2002

So does that make it any clearer? Sometimes it's hard to explain a spectre... she just is.

Top



Valentine's Day Surprise

lahoffyCDC

"Psst . . . Sheeza? Is everyone gone?" came a whispered voice from behind the opened door.

"Yeah, they just pulled out in the van. They're all going to see "Lord of The Rings." How come you didn't go, lahoffy?"

"Better things to do. So, it's just you and me?"

"I think Duncan's still here, and Methos said if he wanted to revel in fantasy, he'd go read his own damn journals."

"Rats. Ok, guess they'll have to help out. Come on." Lahoffy grabbed Sheeza's arm, tugging her down the hallway toward the library.

Sheeza dragged her heels, reluctant to get involved in one of lahoffy's schemes. They almost always led to trouble. "Where are we going? What are you up to this time? And why do we have to help?"

"Because I can't do all the party planning by myself. I need help with the decorations and the baking." Lahoffy tugged harder, nearly pulling Sheeza head over heels. "Will you come on?"

Sheeza closed her eyes. I'm going to regret this, I just know it."Party? What party? Did we have a party planned?"

"Nope. It's a surprise Valentine's party for everyone. Just for the heck of it. You know, it's the day for friendship, love, yada, yada, yada. I thought it would be nice to show everyone how much the ClanCDC means to me."

"That doesn't sound too bad. Sounds kinda nice, actually. Ok, I'm in."

Opening the door to the library, the girls found the two immortals reading by the fireplace. Methos was sprawled as usual on the couch and Duncan was kicked back in the reclining chair.

Methos glanced up, hesitating for just a second at the determined look on lahoffy's face. "Duncan? Run! Run while you can." Springing off the couch, Methos raced for the doorway that led to the stairs, hoping he could hide somewhere in the house.

"You get Duncan while I corner Methos!" shouted lahoffy over her shoulder as she raced after the old guy. She caught him just as he twisted the doorknob and found it locked. "Sorry old man, I figured you'd try something like that. Need your help."

"What scheme have you got cooked up this time? Something that will make me wish I was beheaded? I hope it doesn't involve that collar again."

"Relax, I just need some help with a party. You know, extra hands in the kitchen to make the work go faster. You stayed behind so you're elected."

"Kitchen? Cooking, maybe? I've got some recipes I've been dying to try out on you ladies. If that's all it is, I'm in. As long as there's beer."

"There's beer." lahoffy grabbed Methos by the arm and turned back to see how Sheeza was doing with Duncan.


SheezaCDC

Duncan read the look on Methos' face and saw he wasn't kidding. Uh oh . . . this doesn't look good. Glancing at a determined lahoffy standing there with hands on her hips, his head swiveled to find Sheeza reaching out to grab his arm. Leaping over the side of the recliner, Duncan managed to elude the giant bear hug Sheeza was about to draw him into.

Sprinting out the other door, he sped down the hallway with Sheeza fast on his heels. A hard left took him into the dining room. He literally dove through the doorway leading into the kitchen. Tucking himself into a ball, he rolled and came up to land on his feet. Turning quickly, Duncan pushed back hard on the swinging kitchen door, closing it against the panting woman only a few feet away and coming towards him at top speed.

KER-WHAM! A heavy thud was heard on the other side of the door, moans coming from the downed CDC'er. Panic filled Duncan to his core. Nothing those two women wanted was equal to one of them getting hurt. Pushing the door open a crack, he observed Sheeza lying on the floor, one hand rubbing her forehead.

Quickly coming to her aid, Duncan knelt down beside Sheeza, concern evident in his eyes. "Sheeza? Hon? Are you ok?"

Sheeza moaned and one eye cracked a bit so she could check his exact location. "Ooh . . . my head," she groaned, apparently in a great deal of pain. Gingerly touching her head, she winced and hissed through her teeth.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Sheeza! Is there anything I can do? Here, let me help you." Duncan helped her to sit up and then to stand. It was a bit of a struggle for him, as her legs seemed made of rubber . . . really soft rubber.

Sheeza, leaning heavily on Duncan, allowed herself to be guided to a chair sitting next to the wall. "Ooh . . . " she gasped, "yes, there is something you can do for me." Taking a breath, she looked up at the man bending over her and smiled weakly.

"Are you all right? Just name it. What do you need?" Duncan looked into her eyes, earnest in his willingness to help.

"Lahoffy is planning a surprise party and I'm helping her. And . . . since you and Methos didn't go to the movies with the others, you are going to be our accomplices."

Duncan looked stricken. Putting his hands up, he flapped them as if to wave away such notions. "Accomplices?" His voice cracked, fear riding along the edge just at the mention of such a word. "No, Sheeza, I can't be an accomplice! Why... I know nothing of your plans! Really!"

With amazing speed, Sheeza's hand whipped out and took hold of his arm. A wikked smile formed and her blue eyes glittered like sapphires. "Oh? Well . . . "


Duncan was speechless when Sheeza finally stopped for breath. His dark eyes were wide with awe and his mouth hung slack in amazement. Never in all his days had he ever heard anyone talk that fast! Then, it hit him . . . like a ton of bricks! Duncan had understood every word she had uttered and that meant he knew what lahoffy and Sheeza were planning. Realization set in. He was an accomplice now!

Rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, he knew he had lost. With a deep sigh of resignation, Duncan looked back at Sheeza. "All right, I'll help. But let's hear no more talk of accomplices, agreed?"

"Agreed!" Sheeza nodded vigorously, brightly smiling and happy that Duncan had joined in on their plans so easily.

Releasing his arm, she suddenly gasped and winced as if she were in terrible pain. "Ooh . . . my head . . . " Her lower lip quivered as she touched her head once more.

For a split second, Duncan thought the CDC'er might have really been in pain. However, he knew that Sheeza had learned much in her short time at the compound, and that lahoffy had been her instructor in many things.

Choosing to ignore the belated theatrics, Duncan extended his hand toward the woman seated before him. "Uh, Sheeza . . . Sheeza! Come on, let's go see if Methos was able to escape from lahoffy's clutches."

Seeing that she no longer could play the 'wounded victim', the CDC'er popped up from the chair grinning. "Oh . . . I doubt he got very far. Lahoffy is too swift for him I'll bet!" Sheeza locked her hand in his and off they went, back to the library.


lahoffyCDC

The four party planners met in the hallway.

"We were just on our way back to check on you two," Sheeza said. "See, Duncan? I told you Methos wouldn't escape."

"Course not. I may not be 5000 years old, but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve. Come on into the kitchen, we have lots to do," lahoffy said.

Making their way to the kitchen, lahoffy explained her idea to the two immortals. Since a party was always an interesting experience around the compound, they didn't take much persuading.

"So, if you and Sheeza will get the gazebo ready, Duncan, I'll get going on the cooking. There's a box of decorations hidden in the laundry room." She quickly glanced at her watch. "We've got about four hours before everyone's due back. Let's get moving, people!"


Half an hour later . . .

"Methos, this is a party. I am not serving lamb hearts with olives and fig leaves. Ick!"

"You asked for my help. We used to serve those all the time. Went over very well."

"Welcome to the 21st century, pal. Today, we serve cake and ice cream."

"Probably couldn't find any decent lamb hearts around here, anyway. They have to be fresh from--"

"Continue that sentence and I'll brain you with this cake pan. Hand me that flour, would you?"

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

Flouring the cake pans, lahoffy looked up at him and glared. "Lamb hearts are NOT adventure, it's icky."

"Fine, I don't suppose we have any peacock around here, do we?"

"I don't even want to know what you'd do with that." lahoffy poured the cake batter and shoved the pans into the oven. "How about salad? Can you do salad?"

"Sure. Think we have any goat cheese?"

Lahoffy closed her eyes and counted to 10. Then 20. "SALAD. You know? Lettuce, tomatoes, celery, maybe carrots?"

"You don't know what you're missing."

"I suppose next thing you'll want is yak butter," she said sarcastically.

"Plays havoc with the digestive tract, remember?"

Sighing in resignation, lahoffy laid her head on the counter, wondering how much it would hurt when she gave into the impulse to pound her head against it.

And the squabbling continued.


SheezaCDC

"All right, Duncan, guess you're mine! Come on then." Hooking a finger in the collar of his sweater, Sheeza pulled the Scot along behind her as she headed off in the direction of the laundry room. "You get to play pack mule. Hope those boxes aren't too heavy."

"Ach! Don't pull on me like that! You'll stretch my sweater! I'm coming . . . I'm coming!" He knew he sounded a little cranky, but in truth, Duncan thought the idea of a surprise party for all his friends was a pretty good one. "Why don't you go on out to the gazebo Sheeza, and check it out. I'll follow you with the decorations. When I get there, you will already have an idea of the cleaning that needs done."

With broom, bucket, and other assorted cleaning supplies, Sheeza headed straight for the gazebo. Piles of leaves were stuffed into the crevices, and a fine layer of dirt covered everything. Other than that, it had come through the worst of the winter quite nicely!

Hard at work wiping the dust and dirt from the benches and railings, Sheeza spotted Duncan coming across the lawn with three mid-sized boxes. Every few seconds, she saw him peek around the boxes as he made his way towards her. "You can put those over there, Sweetie. I've cleaned off that bench already."

Setting the boxes down, Duncan started pulling open the flaps on the top box. "Well, let's see what we've got here."

"Before we start that, how about helping me finish the tidying up?" Sheeza held out the long-handled dustpan, and nodding towards the garbage bag tied to a pole. "Help me with the rest of these leaves and I think we are done." Smiling at her work partner, she was pleased that the gazebo didn't need major help.

"You got it," he quipped, holding the dustpan for Sheeza to sweep in a pile of damp leaves. Emptying the trash in the bag, Duncan looked around and noticed it would be easy to put up the decorations.

"So? What did lahoffy get for decorations?"

"Oh, wait till you see it, Sheeza! Lahoffy really outdid herself! One thing though . . . when did she get it? With all of us around the house, I can't figure it . . . nobody saw her?"

"I didn't see her. What did she buy?"

"I didn't see her either."

A little exasperated, Sheeza rolled her eyes and tossed the broom onto the grass. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she pushed up her glasses and glared at Duncan. "It doesn't matter that nobody saw her Duncan! I'm asking what she bought!"

Surprised, he watched the broom sail through the air before turning back to face her. "Don't take that tone with me, Sheeza! The boxes are right over there! Go look for yourself!"

The young Scot and the CDC'er faced each other, hands on hips, glaring at each other defiantly. Seconds passed, both of them stubborn and pig headed; a staring contest in the works. Slowly their mouths started twitching, neither one budging until suddenly they fell into each other's arms giggling hysterically.

"Come on, Sheeza, let's get this done. From what I see, it's going to be beautiful!"

"Whatever you do, Duncan, don't tell me what's in the boxes," she said still giggling.

"Oh, I won't," he replied grinning slyly. "Just go see for yourself."

Stepping in front of the box, Sheeza took hold of the flaps.

Duncan stepped up behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Go on . . . open it. You'll see."

Folding back the cardboard, Sheeza grinned in delight. "Oh Duncan! The gazebo will be perfect!"

Pulling out a collapsed pink Chinese lantern, she held it aloft: allowing it to expand to its full size. At least a foot tall, the rose-colored paper was shot through with gold threads in a fleur de lis pattern. Tiny pink hearts and cupids completed the centerpiece. Inside, there was a cup large enough to hold a pillar candle.

"I'll bet that when this is lit, the candle will make it look like the little cupids are flying."

"We are going to need a ladder Duncan."

"On my way!" Duncan sprinted across the heading for the garage.

Gently, Sheeza laid the lantern aside. Setting the first box on the ground, she reached for the next one and what lay inside waiting to be discovered.


lahoffyCDC

Duncan and Sheeza came back into the kitchen after finishing the decorating. The sight that greeted them caused them to stop in their tracks. Lahoffy was a muttering wreck. Flour dusted her face, her hair, and her clothes. There was a wild look in her eyes as she spun around to greet the pair. Methos, however, was happily sipping a beer, leaning against the counter with a pleased look on his face.

"There you two are! Get this . . . this creature out of my kitchen and out of my sight before I behead him!"

"If you didn't want my help, you shouldn't have dragged me in here."

"I thought you'd actually be of some help. Instead, you ... you've done nothing but come up with horrible ideas and done your best to drive me crazy!"

"There's a long drive," Methos remarked dryly.

An incoherent screech came from lahoffy as she snatched up the nearest thing to hand (a butter knife) and ran towards him. Duncan grabbed her around the waist, pulling her up short.

"Whoa, there. No need for violence, now, is there?"

"Lemme go! Just give me five minutes, that's all I need. Just five minutes."

"Lahoffy, you don't really want to kill Methos, do you?" asked Sheeza, unbelievingly.

"Not at first. Torture, I can do torture. Ok, give me 10 minutes."

"I'm not letting you go until you calm down. We can work this out. Methos, apologize."

"ME? I didn't do anything! She's the one threatening to behead me and I'M supposed to apologize?"

"Methos . . . "Duncan said warningly.

"Fine. Whatever. I apologize for trying to help you with your surprise. I apologize for making perfectly valid suggestions, only to have them thrown back in my face. Happy?"

"Actually, that didn't sound like much of an apology to me . . . " began Sheeza.

At that moment, lahoffy broke free of Duncan's grip and started toward Methos once again. The old man hastily beat a retreat around the island workstation, circling back to stand in front of Duncan and Sheeza while lahoffy went the other direction. Snatching a tomato off the counter, lahoffy heaved it at Methos.

But the wily one ducked.

And the tomato missed him.

SPLAT!!!! went the tomato full into Duncan's face.

Everyone froze and stared at the red, dripping mess that covered Duncan.


SheezaCDC

In the kitchen, total and absolute silence reigned. Lahoffy was stunned, her eyes as big as saucers and her mouth hung open so wide, one would wonder if her jaw had come unhinged.

Sheeza turned and looked at the young Scot, surprised at the sound the ripe fruit had made when it hit his face and broke open. That tomato was awfully soft, a little too soft . . .Trying to be subtle, she leaned over and sniffed him. Yup, just what I thought. Her lip curled at the somewhat sour smell wafting from the Highlander.

Methos stood up and turned to watch a chunk of tomato slide slowly down Duncan's cheek and land on his chest before rolling on down to plop onto the floor. Just as slowly, he turned back and looked back at lahoffy, his face a mask of disbelief. "Now you've done it, you've really done it . . . " he whispered softly.

Duncan was as still as a statue, his eyes closed, his breathing calm and steady. At his sides, his hands clenched and unclenched in time to the muscles in his jaw. In one smooth move, his hands came up and wiped the mushy goo of a spoiled tomato from his eyes. Carefully, he opened his lids a crack and looked at the perpetrator of this heinous crime against him.

Looking at him standing there, his face totally plastered with rotten tomato, lahoffy started to mutter quietly. Her face started twitching and she blinked rapidly. With all her power, she tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it. Really . . . she couldn't.

Methos sniffed the air, his nose angled up, his nostrils flaring dramatically. He folded his arms and propped a finger against his cheek. "Could use a bit of oregano . . . yes . . . "

Sheeza gasped, surprise clearly written across her features. Finding the humor in the old man's statement, she decided to further 'help' the situation. "Oh I don't know . . . I think maybe a little balsamic vinegar and shaved Parmesan?"

Dark brown eyes flicked from Methos to Sheeza. Quite sure he heard a challenge in there somewhere, Duncan smiled: a cold and closed lipped grin. The stench of bad fruit hung around his face like a shroud. He couldn't escape the smell unless he took a shower.

Something snapped, something deep down inside the young Scot. "Well now, a little humor at my expense? All right then, let's all have a good laugh, shall we?"

Duncan stepped up and snatched a cruet of olive oil from off the counter. His eyes glittered and he laughed wickedly as he turned to face his two 'friends'. "Oregano?" He looked questioningly at Methos. Nodding his head, he glanced at Sheeza. "Balsamic vinegar and shaved Parmesan? Well, two points for originality, Sheeza, but you forgot something."

Lahoffy came around the counter with a towel, planning to help clean up her friend. Still giggling but trying to stifle them, she didn't see the soft juicy chunk of tomato on the floor. Stepping on the fruit, she slid, her legs flying apart. "Oooahahhh!" Lahoffy slipped and fell against Duncan, jostling his arm. The bottle of oil flew up into the air, flipping end over end; oil spilling out and coating Methos and Sheeza from head to toe before landing with a crash on the floor.

The kitchen was deathly quiet once again. The only sounds to be heard were droplets of oil as they fell and splatted on the tile, and the breathing of four people in shock.

"Lahoffy!"

"Don't yell at her, Methos! It's not her fault!"

"Duncan!"

"O,h quit yer whinin'! At least ye dinnae stink!"

"Don't yell at Sheeza!"

"I can yell at who I want to!"

"Duncan! Don't yell at lahoffy!"

"Why not? It's all her fault!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Don't apologize, lahoffy sweety, it was an accident."

"An accident?"

Duncan and Sheeza, Methos and lahoffy argued and bickered as they hollered and yelled at each other. Sides were taken and alliances were made, only to be broken and reformed several times. One would retreat, only to have another pursue and continue the tirade. Around the kitchen they went, until the quartet found themselves on opposite sides of the counter.

Sheeza glared at Methos. Methos snarled at lahoffy. Duncan scowled at Sheeza.


lahoffyCDC

Lahoffy threw her hands up into the air. "To hell with all this!" she said, snatching the can of whipped cream up. "This is for everything you've done to me today." Pressing the valve, she aimed and unloaded the contents onto Methos.

Sputtering and dripping with oil and whipped cream, Methos blindly reached out to the counter, finding the bowl of jello that had been made, but not yet refrigerated. He swiped a hand across his eyes, clearing his vision. He spotted lahoffy backing away towards the door. "Now it's my turn." Stepping forward, he heaved the liquefied contents at her.

Unfortunately, Duncan had taken a step in lahoffy's direction, intent on putting an end to the melee before it got any further out of hand. Raspberry Jell-O splashed across him as well as lahoffy.

"METHOS!!!" he howled.

Sheeza, not to be left out, picked up the bag of tiny marshmallows and began lobbing them at Methos, grinning in amusement as they stuck where they hit.

Lahoffy, noticing the evil gleam in Duncan's eyes, as well as the glare on Methos' face, decided for once that discretion was the better part of valor and hightailed it out the door.

Racing across the compound in a frantic search for a good hiding place, followed by two angry immortals and a marshmallow-lobbing Sheeza, lahoffy made her way across the muddy ground towards the gazebo.

Slipping and sliding, she almost made it. Suddenly, her foot sank into a hole left by last year's gophers. With a yelp, she went down face first into the mud.

Duncan pulled up short at the sight, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

Methos, however, found a slick spot and went sliding.

Straight into Duncan.

The collision sent both immortals down into the mud. The trio sat looking at each other as the mud dripped from every part of them.

Sheeza couldn't help it. She laughed. The three turned their gazes towards her.

"Get her!" they chorused together.

By the time the mud stopped flying, there wasn't a clean spot left on any of them. And the decorations, so carefully hung, lay in tattered, muddy ruins.

At that moment, an outraged shriek came from the direction of the house--along with the sound of the smoke detector!

"My CAKE!!" screamed lahoffy.

"That shriek sounded an awful lot like MacNair. They can't be back already, can they?" asked Sheeza.

Methos and Duncan tensed as they felt the buzz of other immortals. "Yes, they can," they said together.

Clansibs and immortals spilled out of the house, and, spotting the foursome, made their way over to them.

"WHAT did you do to my kitchen? It's a shambles. How could you do so much damage in so short a time?" demanded MacNair, who was bristling like a wet cat.

"Surprise? Happy Valentine's Day?" squeaked out lahoffy.

Richie was collapsed in laughter, Sharz was trying desperately not to giggle, lynnann beamed her mysterious smile, MacNair continued to rant, and Connor?

Connor picked up the hose and gleefully hosed off each of the mud-caked, would-be party givers.

And instead of a Valentine's party, the four partners-in-crime spent the evening cleaning and swearing never again to get involved in one of lahoffy's schemes.

At least, until the next one came along . . .

~Finis~

lahoffyCDC & sheezaCDC
February 14, 2002

Top



Vamps For A Day

Listening to the two women stumbling around in the dark below, Lestat smiled and turned to face his companions. He leaned bonelessly against the stone wall surrounding the balcony that faced down into the main chamber of Hilfiger Castle.

"You two are lucky you know. You've been given a chance that I ... never had. You have a way out of this curse as I've explained it to you," Lestat said, his arms folded across his chest.

Methos looked a little more pale than usual, his lips pink against alabaster white skin. Glancing anxiously toward the man next to him, he was the first to speak.

"All right. I understand the hows and whys of this thing. But what I don't understand is how you got involved in this ... this ... ." Unable to find the right words, Methos threw up his hands in defeat.

Lestat glanced over his shoulder when he heard one of the women suddenly cry out. She apparently had tripped over an uneven stone in the floor, landing on her hands and knees. Smirking, he turned back to the men.

Pacing back and forth in front of them, Lestat grinned, showing his fangs. "Quite simple really. Those damnable gypsies never forget anything. Everything good and everything bad that happens to them is brought down generation to generation as family legend, as part of their history if you will. They don't stop until both sides are even. Till old scores ... or debts for that matter ... are even. Repaid as it were. You've pissed them off because of the whole Irina and Jakob dabacle. Hence the curses my friends."

Duncan was quite shaken by his new vampiric talents. It was nothing to him that he was immortal, as he'd already been that for over four hundred years. But what he was having difficulty with was the amazing level to which his senses were heightened.

Even though it was quite dark where they now stood, he was surprised that not only could he see his hand in front of his face quite clearly, he could also see the cockroach crawling on the floor near his shoe. In mild disgust for the loathsome insect, he stepped on it, oddly satisfied with the crackling crunch that reached his ears.

And his hearing! It was if the entire castle was wired for sound! He could hear the hissing of the gas fed torches that lined the hallways. He smiled as he picked up on a nest of mewling baby rats and their mother scurrying against the stone wall returning to them. Somewhere, he could hear the dry rustling sounds of batwings, thousands upon thousands of them as the creatures stirred restlessly. And down below, he heard the whimpered panting of a single woman as she stood up, aided by another. Her knee had been skinned when she fell. He could smell the blood.

The blood. Duncan trembled, uncertainty filling every fiber of his being.

***Is this what it is to be like Lestat?***

Breathing deeply, he tasted the odor of free flowing blood running down that woman's leg. And it was good.

"... and so, I ended up owing them a future obligation." Sighing wistfully, Lestat tossed his blonde mane. "That was over one hundred and thirty years ago and I never could figure a way out of it. I'm taking a risk even telling you as much as I am. I hope you can appreciate this." Lestat brought his hands together, his fingers interlacing like a member of the clergy.

"So let me see if I understand then," Duncan began, desperately seeking to organize in his mind what had happened to Methos and himself. "Jakob's tribe decided that we were to be punished for letting Jakob die. They have set upon us this curse of being vampires with your assistance. You helped because you owed them a blood debt. And now you are saying that this curse can be temporary if, and only if, we each find someone to willingly give themselves to us? We cannot just feed; this person has to allow it freely? But how are we to do that?"

Lestat again leaned out over the balcony wall and watched the two women slowly making their way across the grand hall. Beckoning to them, he was soon joined by Methos and Duncan.

"During tourist season, there is always an idiot or two who hide from their groups, planning to spend the night in the castle. Happens almost every week. Sometimes more. Guess they get a thrill out of it, I don't know. Damnable place is drafty as hell, and really cold when they turn off the heat for the night. There is no food, not real food anyway ... no running water except for the toilets those people built next to the lower kitchen. Every year, people go missing ... ."

"Because of you?" Methos glanced over to the blonde haired vampire, his eyes narrowed to mere slits, scrutinizing this other type of immortal.

"If not me, then someone else. There are a number of blood drinkers that visit this place. Food is bountiful this time of year. When those fools stay behind, they run the risk of disappearing for good. No one knows what happens to them, nobody cares. And funny ... few are even noticed once they are gone since most of them are women. They are nobody people with nobody lives, excited by things old and long since dead."

"Like you?" The old man chuckled. He stopped suddenly, realizing that he could fit into that very category himself.

"Like me," Duncan whispered, remembering all the people in his life, a string of faces flashing against the back of his mind. A sadness filled him suddenly, thinking of how he stepped from life to life, generation to generation, each one like a stepping stone across some never ending brook. His life as an immortal had to remain low-key, out of the limelight, always moving on before someone noticed something they shouldn't, unless he let them close to him.

"Well, if you want to end this quickly," Lestat began, impatient to be on his way, "there are two women down there. Maybe, just maybe you can convince them to offer themselves to you. Use your charm," he said with a slight sneer.

"No! I'll not kill anyone," the Highlander hissed, his voice angry and tight. "I'll not kill an innocent to break this curse! It's not right, and I want no part in it!"

Lestat arched backward, his smile seeming more like a grimace than one of mirth. It was eerie to watch him laugh so hard and yet make no sound. Quickly he grew serious and looked at Duncan in earnest. "You speak as if you have a choice. I'm telling you now, a choice is something you do not have. You have been cursed, and as for my part in it I'm sorry."

Methos faced Duncan, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You want to be a vampire for the next four hundred years MacLeod?" He snatched his hand away, unused to the feel of the heavy material used in the dark cloak the Scot was covered with.

"Lestat, what's with the capes anyway? What part of the curse says we have to dress up in these god-awful clothes? Or have these awful little mustaches?" Methos spread apart his own cape, all black and lined with a blood red velvet. The collar stood up around his head, stiff and black around his whitened face. "And this suit? I look like frigging Bela Lugosi in it!"

With a riffling sound, Methos swept the cape upward to obscure the lower part of his face. From behind it he uttered a muffled "Bwahahahaha!"

"Cut it out Methos," said Duncan, his own hands fussing with the clothing he wore. "It looks nice."

"Well I'm off," replied Lestat, lightly leaping onto the balcony wall. "You know what you have to do to end this. The longer you wait, the hungrier you'll get. And that, my friends, will be your undoing. If you take your first blood from an unwilling source, you will be vampires until the day someone stakes you, takes your head or turns you out into the sun. Think about it." With a grand flourish of his cape, Lestat jumped.

Both immortals looked around quickly, trying to see where the blood drinker had gone. It was as though Lestat had vanished right before their eyes. A tiny skittering sound from above caused them to look up. There he was, perched on the ledge of a tiny window near the cathedralesque ceiling. With a tiny salute, their immortal counterpart, the vampire, departed.

Methos looked around, alternately squinting and opening his eyes wide. Like MacLeod, he was amazed with his new vampire sight. He was distracted from his night vision by the sounds of something going on below them. Leaning over the wall, he cocked his head to listen. After a few seconds his mouth fell open in wonder, revealing newly formed razor sharp fangs. "MacLeod," he whispered, "can you hear their hearts beating?"

"Aye, Methos. I can hear them." Duncan's accent had thickened with the stress of becoming what he now was ... an immortal vampire. And true to Lestat's information, he could feel a hunger building within him. The smell of the blood from a few minutes earlier had awakened a thirst within him. He'd seen enough movies and read enough books to know that what he was feeling was what some had called, 'blood thirst'.

Methos straightened and propelled himself upward, a jump that took him to the ceiling before he drifted back down. Grinning, he rubbed his fingers together, finding that he liked the sandpapery sound that reached his preternatural ears. Stepping back, he did a backflip, landing on his feet with more grace than he was used to. Quickly, he fumbled with the heavy cloth, yanking on his cape to free his trapped head from it's bulkiness.

"To hell with this cape," he snarled as he ripped at the hook and eye that held it fastened around his neck.

Duncan agreed. While it was warming enough, he found it hindered him more than his regular coat did. Besides, the first thing he noticed was that there was no place to stash his katana. With a quick grin, he wished there was truth to the legend of *Katana Space*. Unhooking his own cape and let it fall to the stones at his feet.

"Methos, I cannae kill one of those women to end this curse. Cannae ye no understand tha'?"

"Then don't MacLeod. And get a grip on yourself. It's not that bad. I think I might just take one and be done with this. I like these new senses. I will certainly have the upper hand in fighting another immortal."

Suddenly, the old man was filled with the idea and curiosity of what it would be like to drink the blood of a human.

***How would it differ from an animal? Wouldn't really be so bad to be a vampire for the *next* five thousand years would it? Blood is protein, and in some cultures, they still drink it today. ***

"Well MacLeod, no time like the present." Leaping onto the wall as Lestat had, Methos looked down at his friend. "I think I'll get this over with. See you when I'm through."

Duncan leaned over the wall and watched Methos seemingly float down to the floor below. The women they had been watching had vacated the vaulted room and had disappeared down one of the many hallways that branched away from this center chamber.

Laying his head on his hands, he was overwhelmed with the knowledge of what he had become and what he would have to do to dispel the gypsy curse of Jakob's people. His eyes brimmed with his sadness, the scent of his blood tears wafting to his nostrils.

Feeling his stomach clench in a stronger hunger pang than he had ever felt before, Duncan leapt on to the wall and dropped down after Methos.


lahoffy and Sheeza walked slowly down the hallway, torches sputtering and giving off wavering light on each side. The flames were spaced some distance apart with shadows forming between each circle of light.

Wincing, Sheeza stopped, bending down to examine her skinned knee. "Oh, lahoffy," she moaned, "it's still bleeding! I sure hope I don't get tetanus or anything."

lahoffy stopped and turned. She felt badly for her friend and felt a little guilty too. It had been her idea to spend the night in the castle. Their 'once-in-a-lifetime' trip to sightsee had been fun so far, and to explore the castle on their own for a night seemed an opportunity too good to pass up.

"Oh God, Sheeza, I'm so sorry! Does it hurt much? Here, I'm going to grab one of these torches. We need better light."

Stepping up to one of them, lahoffy grabbed it and pulled. Nothing happened. Putting her back into it, she twisted the pole one way and then the other. With a final gravelly screech, she wrested the torch from its holder, only to watch it gutter and die out in her hands. A hissing sound made her look up and she realized then that they weren't real but burning gas just like the stove she had at home.

Tossing the now-dead torch aside, she came back and laid a gentle hand on Sheeza's arm.

"Come on. Let's go find some place to sit down. The snack bar is down in the lower kitchen where the bathrooms are. Do you think you can make it that far? There's probably a first aid kit there too."

"Yeah, I think so. I'm thirsty too. Let's go. Sorry about the torch though. It was a good idea," Sheeza replied.

lahoffy looked at the dead torch on the floor and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, which she couldn't see in the darkness. "Yeah, medieval castle with gas torches. Who'da thunk it?"

Giggling, the women headed up the hallway, unaware of the two sets of eyes watching them.


"Well, MacLeod? Which one do you want? I want the short one with the long brown hair." Methos didn't even wait for an answer before making his choice known.

His eyes glittered in the little light that reached them. Running his tongue over his fangs, Duncan felt the thirst rising, already feeling a bit dizzy from the scent of Sheeza's bloodied knee.

"Can't you smell it Methos? The blood?"

Methos' eyes flicked over to his friend, faintly surprised to see the Highlander licking his lips. Breathing in through his nose, he too picked up the full ripe scent that MacLeod spoke of. His mouth watered and his stomach gurgled, demanding it be fed and soon.

"Oh. Uh-oh. Are you all right Mac? Are you in control?"

"For now old friend, for now. But I feel ... I feel ... ." A low rumbling growl emanated from the Scot as he drifted slowly up the hall, following the two women.

Not being able to tell if that sound came from Duncan's mouth or his stomach, Methos had no choice but to follow him and them and what lay in store for them all.


Handing Sheeza a gauze pad, lahoffy directed her to hold it against her knee while she moved over to the reach-in cooler for a Pepsi and a Diet Coke.

"You'll be feeling right as rain with this," lahoffy said as she handed her friend the Coke. "Always works for me."

Popping the top to her Pepsi, lahoffy wandered over to the little snack aisle before settling on something a bit more substantial in the nearby food case. "Sheeza? Want a burrito?"

Sheeza hissed as she removed the bandage from her knee, happy that the bleeding had finally slowed to just a bit of weeping. "Sure. What kinds are there?"

Not hearing an answer, she looked up and looked around the kitchen. Her eyes flashed back and forth, scanning the now empty room. "lahoffy?"


Hiding in the shadows of the hallway next to the cold foods case, Methos watched as the one named lahoffy moved around, assisting the other one. His eyes were glued to her neck. His tongue absently snaked out from between his fangs and slithered along his lower lip, hunger and want meshing and unmeshing inside him.

In the low light of the kitchen, he could see the vein in her neck pulsing. He could hear the blood rushing through her veins as her pounding heart beat in a mesmerizing rhythm.

Breathing in, he could smell the unmistakable scent of vanilla. He was surprised when he thought "Man, she smells good enough to eat!" A split second later he saw the truth to that and made his move.

Waiting for his moment, he watched as lahoffy turned her head and offered the other one, Sheeza, a burrito.

Using his newly-gained gift of preternatural speed, Methos leaped from the shadows, clapped his hand over his soon-to-be-victim's mouth and dragged her back into the darkness without making a sound.


Watching from a different hallway, all of which converged into the kitchen area, Duncan saw Methos spirit away his intended victim. Knowing and feeling the gnawing hunger he felt within him, he could only hope that Methos would be able to convince the woman to give herself to him before the curse drove him to madness and toward something he would regret for all eternity.

"lahoffy?" Duncan heard this and knew his time had come. He was standing behind the woman, Sheeza, so when he stepped out of the darkness of the shadows, she didn't see him right away.

"Ahem." He straightened his jacket, picking at some unseen lint before running his hands over his hair. He was nervous and wanted to make a good impression.

Turning around in her chair, she saw him standing in deep shadow. Fear clutched at her heart, for she and lahoffy thought they would be alone in the castle. lahoffy had promised her that.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you." Duncan held his hands out with the palms up and fingers splayed, an attempt to show her he meant her no harm. "My name is Duncan MacLeod, and please, may I come closer? I must speak with you and I have little time."


Breathing harshly through her nose, lahoffy was paralyzed with fear. She couldn't see a thing but she did know that she was being carried in someone's arms and this man *Man?* was running.

Feeling the chilled soda slosh out of the can and run over her hand, she was instantly peeved, realizing that all the gas was being jostled out of what little soda was left. It was bad enough that she hadn't gotten to drink any yet. Now she was being kidnapped!

Suddenly very angry, she started kicking her legs hoping to crack her attacker a good one in the shins. She made contact several times before the man stopped. Because he had grabbed her from behind and had wrapped an arm around her when he picked her up, she hadn't seen who had taken her.

Dropping to the floor, she landed on her knees and almost dropped her Pepsi.

"Now that's it! Now you've done it you creep!" lahoffy was so angry, her chest was heaving in righteous indignation at the treatment she had received.

Looking around, it came to her that wherever she was, it was pitch dark. She couldn't even see the can in her hand. Tipping it back, she downed the remaining Pepsi, grimacing at the flatness of the soda. "Now the darned soda is flat, you weasel!"

Methos leaned against the wall near her, smiling. His arms were crossed, and he had one leg cocked and resting against the other that held his weight. He couldn't help but chuckle at this woman he'd made off with.

"Is that how you talk to all your attackers M'lady?"

A soft, slightly accented voice came out of the void, one so smooth and silky and full of amusement, lahoffy didn't know whether to spit or grin.

"Light a match and I'll tell you what else I do to my attackers you jerk! Yeah, come a little closer and ... ."

Methos casually reached up and turned the knob on the gas torch near his head. It clicked, coughed, sputtered and burst into flame, lighting the small chamber they stood in. It was very dim, but still enough for them to see each other and make out the lay of the room.

lahoffy got to her feet and backed away from the tall figure, stopping only when her heels hit something hard. With a surprised yelp she sat down, fortunately on a trunk. A quick look around told her she was in a bed chamber, with a grand four poster bed replete with canopy and bed drapes.

Any other time and she would have been excited to see such a beautiful room. But now, fear was her companion and terror its cohort.

"Did anybody ever tell you you're cute when you're angry?"


"Yes, you can come closer. Take a chair. What do you want with me? I ... we have nothing. My friend is around here somewhere. She will be right back." Sheeza was wary of the tall gentlemen elegantly dressed, and she couldn't help but notice his amazing yet pale good looks.

Duncan stepped away from the shadows and into the light of the nearby torches. He faced her at all times, pulling a chair closer to her before sitting down.

"I have a problem and I need your help."

Sheeza quickly inspected him, her eyes moving across him, judging for herself what he might be about.

Duncan knew what she was doing and sat quietly, allowing her to finish. He wasn't very comfortable, his hunger gnawed at him. The smell of fresh blood hung in the air and it made him light headed.

Wearing a dark suit, Duncan was quite handsome. His hair was neatly pulled back and bound with his favorite hair tie, the MacLeod crest. The ends were long enough that the ponytail hung down his back several inches, and showed that his hair tended to be naturally wavy. Sheeza wondered how soft it was and wanted to touch it to find out.

Clearing her throat and smiling a bit, Sheeza chastised herself for such thoughts. Resuming her inspection, she saw that his shoes were shined and sparkling.

"What do you need my help with Mr. MacLeod?"


"First you attack me, then you drag me off to this room, and NOW you tell me I'm cute? Mister, you've got problems!"

The blunt truth of her words hit Methos like a ton of bricks. Shrugging indifferent, he quietly agreed that maybe he did have problems.

In this enclosed space, her vanilla body scent assaulted his senses, overwhelming him. In response, he opened his mouth, exposing sharp white fang teeth.

lahoffy screamed, the sight of those teeth were more of a shock than she could handle.

Methos, brought back to himself, flew across the room and pulled her into his arms. His strength was no match for her and though she fought him, he was able to contain her while he whispered for her to calm down. A moment later, lahoffy fainted. He brushed her hair back, shushing her; wiping at her tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to frighten you. Please. It's all right. I need your help. Can you help me?"


The blood-curdling shriek resounded throughout the castle, the wail of someone very frightened. Sheeza and Duncan traded glances before quickly rising from their chairs and running headlong in the direction Methos had taken lahoffy.

The pain in her knee was sharp and Sheeza stumbled, slowing down immediately. "You ... go on," she panted, "save her. Help my friend, please!" She waved Duncan to hurry on without her. She was afraid that something terrible may have happened.

Duncan thought swiftly, and made his decision. In the blink of an eye, he returned, scooped her up into his arms, and flew down the hall. "METHOS!"

Bursting through the doorway, Duncan and Sheeza saw their friends, locked in an embrace.

"Methos! Don't do this! You can't do this! Please! We'll find a way!"

Sheeza looked up into the eyes of the man carrying her. She had heard him pleading with the other one, his voice emotional and full of concern. In the low light, she saw his face work, expression after expression flashing across his countenance.

"Put me down please," she whispered.

Methos looked up at Duncan. In his arms, was the limp form of Sheeza's friend lahoffy.

"Don't do what MacLeod? Don't catch her when she was falling in a dead faint? Don't stop her from cracking her head open on the stone floor and *bleed* all over the place? Don't what MacLeod? Can't do what MacLeod?!"

Inside, Methos' guts were roiling, churning and screaming out for him to sink his fangs into that unprotected neck his fangs were so close to.

He clenched his teeth, locking his jaws together. His fangs bit into his lower lip. Methos could taste his own blood and the rush it gave as it flooded his mouth was like nothing he'd ever experienced.

A growl began, low and feral. Methos battled strongly the urge to plunge his fangs into lahoffy. Seeing her in his arms however, his face softened for a moment.

***She's kinda cute when she's not being nasty ... .***

In hungered anguish, he twisted and dropped her onto the bed before clenching his fists and pounding them against his thighs. "GAAH! I could be both MacLeod! I can be immortal and a vampire! I know it!"

Desperately holding back his own unwanted urge to feed, Duncan thought quickly for something to say. In split second, the answer came to him.

"You can't have it both ways Methos. You can't be an immortal and a vampire. It won't work."

"And why the hell not?!" Methos glared at the Scot, challenging him to explain.

Sheeza looked from Duncan to Methos, intrigued yet afraid to go to the aid of her friend. She seemed to have been forgotten for the moment, so she took a tentative step towards the bed.

"Too many rules old friend. Too many rules. Haven't you forgotten one?"

Reaching her friend, Sheeza lifted uplLahoffy and sat down, pulling her into her arms. Brushing her hair back, she checked to make sure she was alive and breathing. She was. Breathing a sigh of relief... she patted lahoffy's cheek, attempting to wake her.

Pacing back and forth, Methos took on the air of a caged beast. Every few seconds, his eyes wandered to the women on the bed and he would grimace as though in pain. Shaking his head violently, he resumed his pacing.

Duncan stood in place, comfortably still with his hands behind his back in a regal stance. In truth, he was digging his nails into his palms in an attempt to remain in control over his vampire hunger. The downside to this was the pungent odor of blood wafting up and around his head. Closing his eyes, he willed himself not to breath in the heady scent.

"What are you talking about? What bloody rules? We both know the rules! The Gathering? We know this MacLeod!"


With an air of calm clarity, Duncan strode over to Methos and grabbed him by the lapel. With a nod of his head, he pulled the old man along with him to the other side of the bedroom.

lahoffy came to her senses quickly, slapping at Sheeza's hand. Her eyes were wide with fear, but seeing her friend above her calmed her down a bit.

"Shh... it's all right," Sheeza whispered. With her eyes, she dragged lahoffy's along with hers till they were both looking at the men standing next to the torch.

Hitching her butt over a little, lahoffy turned enough so that she could see them regular and not upside down.

***Ah. Better. What the blue blazes is going on?!*** It was only a few seconds before lahoffy remembered what had happened.

"Sheeza," she whispered back, "that guy ... he's ... he's ... I swear to you, he's a vampire," she hissed. "Got fangs and everything! What's going on?"

Leaning in but not taking her eyes off the dark haired man who ran with her in his arms, Sheeza spoke. "Really? I didn't see that. I don't know what's going on yet, but I expect we'll find out soon enough. The cutey guy said his name is Duncan MacLeod. Did you catch the other one's name?"

Glaring up at Sheeza, lahoffy wasn't sure if she'd heard correctly. "You mean *before* or *after* he grabbed me and brought me here? No. You're right. I should have asked for a formal introduction right *after* he bared those wicked fangs at me! Is that right?!"

Tearing her eyes from the MacLeod fellow, Sheeza returned the glare her friend had tossed at her. "Jeez, melodramatic much? Did he hurt you?"

"He killed my Pepsi!"

"Did he hurt you?"

"The ... the fangs!"

"Did... he... *hurt*... you?"

"Frell!"

Giggling, Sheeza pushed lahoffy into an upright position and sitting on her own. She let her go with a brief hug. "Thought so. Now be quiet. I wanna know what's going on."


"I don't appreciate you dragging me around like that MacLeod," Methos huffed, as he straightened his jacket and pulled down his sleeves. "I'm not a child," he mumbled petulantly.

Duncan scowled, jerking his head towards the ladies on the bed. "You know better than to discuss the Gathering in front of mortals! Now what happened in here?"

Leaning against the wall with his shoulders slumped, Methos looked down at the floor, his fingers picking at the side pleats in his trousers.

"It all happened so fast ... ."

"What made her scream?"

Methos sighed deeply; his shoulders slumping even lower than before. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he shook his head. "I did. I think I hissed at her and showed my fangs. But God MacLeod! Did you catch her delicious smell? Just couldn't help myself," he finished with a shrug.

"So you weren't going to bite her?"

"No! I swear! Well, maybe a little bit, but honest, I didn't want to!"

Duncan turned back to the ladies but Methos laid a hand on his arm and turned him back. "So what rule is it you think I've forgotten MacLeod? Why *can't* I be immortal and vampire?"

Nodding his head, the Scot gently smiled at the old man. It was simple, but then again it wasn't.

"Methos, vampires sleep all day, hidden away from the sun. Your immortality is like a beacon, sending out its signal to other immortals. If one should come calling while you are asleep, you won't do well in defending yourself, now will you? You'll lose your head and be dust. Or, they could stake you. Poof! Gone!" Duncan clapped his hands together for emphasis.

Realization dawned on the old man in degrees, his face showing understanding as this information was absorbed.

Duncan could readily see that Methos had woke up to facing the realities of what was so wrong with being an vampiric immortal.

"Gods! That never occurred to me! Quite right MacLeod." Methos grimaced as his stomach growled quite loudly. Rubbing his hand over his abdomen, he looked up at Duncan through his eyelashes. "I think we'd better do something about this curse, and I think it's got to be soon. I'm ravenous, and I can feel myself losing my sense of decency."

Duncan's mouth took on a sarcastic grin. "What decency, old man?"


The two vampires turned as one and stood facing the ladies on the bed.

Duncan placed his hands behind his back, once more digging his nails into the palms. He wanted to be in complete control and the pull of his rising vampirism was stronger than ever. Letting his eyes roll to his right, he could see Methos had gone back to clenching his jaw. He could hear the old man's fangs gnashing together as he ground his teeth.

"Excuse me?"

Sheeza stood up from the bed and straightened her dress. She winced as the edges of her skinned knee pulled apart, the wound breaking open again.

"Would you please tell us what's going on here? You sir, why did you bring Lahoffy in here against her will?"

Methos looked at the woman with an appraising eye, mildly surprised at the way she asked her questions so abruptly. Opening his mouth to speak, he was interrupted.

"Well?! Speak up jerkface! You drag me in here, you ruin my Pepsi, you flirt with me, you scare the crap outta me and then you attack me! Can't wait to see what you do for an encore!" lahoffy took a deep breath after her tirade, and then hrumphed for good measure.

"lahoffy ... not the time hon," Sheeza mumbled, batting at her friend's arm in hopes of quieting her down.

His face colored a deep red, though only Duncan could see it clearly in the darkened room. "M'lady," Methos began, bowing deeply from the waist and sweeping his arm wide, "I humbly beg your forgiveness for my ... er ... indiscretions. I've been a cad."

"A cad he says! Hoo! Get a load of Mr. Fancypants over there!" lahoffy smirked meanly at Methos, more than a little pleased at his words although she didn't quite believe them.

"Why you bi... ."

"Me-thos ... ." Duncan growled, looking so fiercely at the older immortal that Methos could have almost sworn the Highlander's eyes glowed in the dim light.

Methos stepped back mumbling under his breath. "She started it."

"Ladies, I'm very sorry for how things have gone so far. I assure you, we intend you both ... ."

"Speak for yourself MacLeod."

Duncan glowered at Methos, and this time the old man was certain he saw glowing eyes in his friend. He gulped and let his mouth snap shut.

"As I was saying ... " the Scot continued, "we intend you *both* no harm."

Sheeza smiled tentatively, nerves sparking a near giggle fit. She silently cursed herself for this fault of hers. "I'm sure Mr. MacLeod. Do you ... I mean, would you mind though if we took this into a room with a little more light? I'm sure Lahoffy and I would be much more comfortable say, back in the kitchen?"

Methos took a step closer and brought his arm up as if to display the bedroom for interested customers. "What's wrong with right here?"

lahoffy, about to bark out a derisive laugh, thought better of it at the last moment and coughed to cover it up. "Bad memories," she sputtered.

Duncan smiled at lahoffy, and grinned at Sheeza, careful to conceal his fangs. "I think it's a fine idea. I'm sure that lahoffy must also be thirsty, since she lost her drink earlier."

Offering his arm to Sheeza, he smiled his most charming closed mouth smile. "Shall we?"

Sheeza looked at the offered arm and then at her friend. The eyes that looked back at hers told of the untold horrors that would be visited upon her if she even considered abandoning her friend for MacLeod.

Clearing her throat, Sheeza looked from Duncan to Methos. "I think it's best if you and Duncan walk together and Lahoffy and I walk together, don't you?"

"All right," Duncan said, his arm showing them the doorway, "after you."

"Uh-huh, yeah, I'm gonna walk down a dark hallway with Fangface behind me. Saaayy... MacLeod is it? You got fangs too?"

Methos rolled his eyes and threw his arms up in the air in exasperation. "Come on MacLeod! Move your ass MacLeod! Mustn't keep the *ladies* waiting MacLeod!"

Stomping past a suddenly flustered MacLeod, Methos stormed through the doorway and disappeared in the blackness.

Duncan chuckled nervously, shrugging and holding his hands up in a half hearted gesture of apology. Quickly, he moved to follow Methos. Stopping at the doorway, he turned. "You coming?"


Entering the kitchen area, Duncan found Methos pacing back and forth muttering to himself. Whatever the man was saying, he wasn't very happy hearing it either. Listening for the ladies behind him, he figured they had a minute or two before they joined them.

"Methos, why are you so upset? Calm down. This isn't going to get you anywhere."

He stopped pacing and stared at the Scot. "Don't you think I know that? Gods! I'm so hungry, I almost feel like I could eat my own hand! What's wrong with me?" Reaching out, he grabbed an oversized muffin off a pastry rack. Holding it to his nose, he breathed in its scent through the plastic.

In a grimace of disgust, he crushed it in his hand, the plastic bursting, muffin bits falling to the floor. "Banana nut," he growled vehemently, "and I liked banana nut!"

Stalking over to his friend, Methos reached out and took Duncan roughly by the shoulders and shook him, making MacLeod's ponytail dance at the back of his neck. "I'm gonna bite her, MacLeod! And, it's gonna taste so good ... ." Methos' voice trailed off as his eyes took on a distant look. The old man's mouth opened and Duncan could see a tongue slide along his lower lip before curling around a razor-sharp fang.

Duncan's heart clenched, fear and concern that time was too short for Methos and himself to convince Sheeza and lahoffy to help them, before their vampire hunger grew too great for them to control.

Breathing deeply, he slapped Methos hard across the face.

Methos rocked back on his heels, a pale white hand reaching for the spot where he'd been struck. His eyes grew wide and he looked back at Duncan with surprise. "What the hell was that for?"

"Hit me."

"What?!?"

Duncan closed his eyes, upper and lower lashes meshing together creating a thick black line. His nostrils flared as he ground his teeth together. Strong hands curled into fists as he drove his nails once again into the palms of his hands. He spoke again in a deep, yet strong voice.

"Hit me, Methos, like I did you."

Methos' eyes narrowed, a thin grin forming on his lips. "With pleasure ... ."

Drawing back as if to throw a baseball out of the park, Methos swung with all his might, putting all his power into the blow he dealt his friend. He supposed there should have been some guilt, but with the way Methos felt at the moment, all he felt was satisfaction, and damned little of it at that!

Duncan staggered back, his ears ringing, his head thudding from the bolt of pain coursing up and down the side of his head. In seconds, it was gone, but he felt clearer in his mind, and more in control.

"Good," he whispered.


"What the hell was that?"

lahoffy glanced quickly at Sheeza, both of them hearing a loud crack that seemed to echo repeatedly down the hallway past them.

"Dunno, lahoffy, but guess we'll find out in a second."

The two ladies stepped into the light of the kitchen and stared at the two men. Both of them turned to look at them. They could see that both men sported identical faint pink handprints on their faces.

lahoffy and Sheeza looked at each other, understanding what it was they had heard. Nodding to each other, they faced the men and approached them.

Duncan gestured to a table with four chairs off to the side of the room, situated between two lit torches. He'd figured it was a good place, with plenty of light.

"Why don't you ladies sit down? Methos and I will bring us ... you something to drink. Would you perhaps like a snack? I seem to recall that lahoffy had offered you a burrito earlier," he said to Sheeza.

Methos stood silent, his jaw visibly working as his fangs picked and shredded his lower lip. The taste of blood, even if it was his own, did little to quell his maddening hunger, but it was better than nothing.

The slap had brought him to his senses somewhat, and in a short time, he'd come to the conclusion that while the powers that came with being a vampire were great and had it's advantages, he could see that ultimately, the disadvantages were greater.

Eyeing Methos, lahoffy smirked and reigned in her sarcasm as much as she could. "Yeah, I'd like Pepsi, and Sheeza here likes Diet Coke. Maybe *this* time I'll actually get to drink some of it," she muttered under her breath.

With his acute hearing, Methos heard her and closed his eyes tight. He wanted so badly to toss out a comment, but decided that Duncan wouldn't be too happy with him if he did. So, he settled for poking a new hole in his lip instead.

Rubbing his hands together, partly to conceal the bloody crescents in his palms, Duncan smiled, careful still to keep his fangs out of sight. "It's my pleasure. And something to eat?"

Sheeza looked at lahoffy and then at each of the men. "Thank you, but maybe later. Right now," she said with a wince, "I think I'd like to just sit down. I think my knee is bleeding again."

Methos' head snapped towards the ladies and he lifted his head up, breathing in deeply, like an animal scenting the air. Lowering his head, he smiled thinly, a purr sounding deep in his throat.

Startled by the vibration in his chest, Methos shook his head vigorously to clear it, and bit down on his lip again.


lahoffy popped the top to her soda and downed half of it immediately. With a satisfied sigh, she set the can down and smiled contentedly before glaring at Methos sitting to her right.

He'd been staring. He couldn't help himself. Watching her raise the can to her lips, lips that had puckered up to hold the edge of the can, and then let her head fall back, exposing her throat as she downed the contents, was powerfully attractive to him. With each swallow he had felt the desire to sink his fangs into her neck growing ever stronger.

Sheeza drank heartily from her soda as well. Nerves always gave her dry mouth, and the soda was just what she needed to loosen the glue that had formed around her tongue.

Duncan watched Sheeza as closely as Methos had watched lahoffy. Breathing through his mouth, he avoided smelling her bloody knee as much as he could.

"So, Mr. MacLeod... ."

"Call me Duncan."

"Duncan, then. When you came in here, you said you needed my help." Sheeza smiled, guardedly, but a smile nevertheless. "What sort of help are you looking for? How can I help you?"

lahoffy snorted softly, her mind instantly picking out an idea of the kind of help these guys might be asking for.

Methos glared at lahoffy, quite aware of what she was thinking. He he had stumbled on yet another talent of vampires, the ability to tell the thoughts of others. He smirked at her, finding it amusing just how wrong she could be and still be cute.

Finding himself faced finally with the opportunity to at least tell them what he and Methos needed, Duncan was frustrated at deciding exactly how to begin. So far, each opening sentence sounded trite or fabricated. What had happened to them was unbelievable, too fantastical for words. Misery bloomed and settled over the Highlander. His shoulders slumped and his head sank between his shoulders.

"You wouldn't believe me," he groaned in a low anguished voice.

"Try me," Sheeza said, her voice trembling, but not just from fear. Sitting so close to Duncan, she found herself utterly fascinated by him and it was affecting her.

Duncan looked up at the people around him. Methos seemed in pain, but his eyes told him that he could speak for the both of them. Duncan could see and smell the blood on the old man's lips. lahoffy too was quiet, her hand resting protectively around her Pepsi. Her eyes kept darting over to inspect the man next to her. He could plainly see that for all her bluster, she was interested in Methos at least a little bit. Sheeza met his gaze. He could smell her fear, but her eyes showed her interest in himself and he was surprised to discover that it pleased him. He found he liked her, and he hoped that once this was all over with, he could still count her more as friend than as victim or enemy.

"I don't know how to begin," he said simply.

Sheeza watched him, searching for something, anything that told her she should be more afraid of him than she was. Aside from him being blindingly handsome in her estimation, she could find nothing that set off her internal alarms, but heard them ringing merrily away in spite of it. "Were you looking for me? For us? I mean, I know why she and I," Sheeza said, gesturing at lahoffy and herself, "are in the castle after hours, but why are you?"

In spite of herself, she chuckled. "I mean, you two *look* like you could belong here in the castle, and we are visitors, tourists. But you're not from around here either. Do you work here? Are you here because there was a report of two women in the castle illegally? I can assure you, we meant no harm. We just wanted to ... ."

"No, that's not it." Duncan looked down at himself, noting that somewhere he'd picked up a tiny smudge of soot on his crisp white shirt. "We don't work for the tour. We ... were left here by ... a friend."

Methos scooted around in his chair and snorted loudly, halfway between a chuckle and a cough. "Some friend," he grumbled.

Sheeza's eyes went from Methos back to Duncan. She felt lost in what was going on, and didn't like it one bit. "Why did you get left here? Did someone pull a prank on you?"

Duncan thought that over briefly, weighing his potential choices of responses. "Yes, and no," he replied weakly, shrugging his apologies.

lahoffy put her chin in her hand, her elbow resting on the table. "Well then, I don't get it. What's the deal?" She glanced between the two men, letting her question hang in the air.

Methos reached up onto the table with one hand and picked up some invisible bit of something with one incredibly long thin white finger. Rubbing it between his finger and thumb, he flicked it away, his eyes landing on Duncan's face.

"Tell'em about the curse MacLeod."

Duncan smiled gratefully at the old man, realizing that maybe Methos should have been the one to talk all along.

lahoffy and Sheeza's heads turned as one and two sets of eyes landed on him. As if one voice, they both spoke at the same time, and on cue. "What curse?"


The ladies sat quietly, listening to Duncan talk without interrupting him. He spoke in a calm voice, telling them everything about who he and Methos were, what had precipitated their current predicament, and what Lestat had told them about the curse. He explained too, about immortals and the 'Game'. He didn't have a choice; at least it seemed so to him. He didn't embellish anything, nor did he refrain from mentioning anything he thought might help them have a fighting chance in gaining the help he and Methos so badly needed from the women who sat with them.

He noticed that shortly after he began speaking, both women's hands crept out and found each other, each woman seeking comfort and support from the other. Neither set of eyes left his face the whole time he spoke. He could see he had their complete attention, and took solace in the hope that with their attention, came open minds.

Even Methos was entranced listening to Duncan spin their tale. He knew all these things to be true, but could see how mortals could and most definitely would find it all too fantastic, too ... unthinkable. He mused that if he were of a certain ilk, he might even consider putting pen to paper and weave this adventure into a tall tale for the small screen. A gentle smile curved his lips at the notion. Glancing at the ladies, he was hopeful when he saw they hadn't yet closed their minds to him.

lahoffy shook her head, unable to stop smiling. She honestly felt as though her leg was being pulled. She didn't like feeling like the butt of somebody's joke, or taken for a rube just because she lived in a small town.

She had to admit to herself, the story that she heard was indeed fantastical, and it definitely rivaled some of the best stories she'd read, but still ... there was something about it all that made her wonder.

Methos discreetly watched lahoffy during the spinning of Duncan's tale. He thought her to be most interesting. He couldn't help but compare her to her friend either. They were as alike as day and night, but seemed to be very close to each other. The other one he noticed, seemed to have taken a liking to Duncan, and that would be good. In his mind, if the each of them liked Duncan and himself, then maybe they had a chance.

When Duncan finished talking, he sat quietly, waiting for one of them to speak.

lahoffy looked around the table, then raised her soda to her lips and emptied it in one smooth draught. "Well, who's up for another soda," she asked quietly, licking the last of the sweetness from her lips. "I'm still thirsty."

Before she could even blink, Methos set another one down in front of her, opened.

"How did you do that? I didn't even see you move!" lahoffy was astonished. That soda appeared in front of her almost before she finished talking!

Methos smirked and arched his brow. "Vampire," he said, in his smoothest voice.

Sheeza looked over to the man who had earlier, made off with her friend. Leaning a little closer to Duncan, she whispered to him. "What's his name? I can't remember."

lahoffy giggled and patted Sheeza's arm. "It's Mentos, or something to that effect."

Duncan laughed, but the smile slid off Methos' face. "I'm not candy, young lady. It's Methos, and I'll thank you to remember it. You should count yourself fortunate you know."

lahoffy straightened up in her chair, feeling a bit put off by what she heard and how she interpreted it. "Oh? And that would be ... WHY?"

"If it weren't for MacLeod and his Boy Scout ways, you would have heard a different name entirely. I don't flaunt my true name like he does." Methos glared at MacLeod, sending him a silent reprimand for forgetting to use his Pierson persona when he ran to lahoffy's rescue.

lahoffy's brows furrowed together as her temper flashed and sparked to life. "Oh, so you were *going* to lie to us, but your friend here messed it up? Wow, I feel so trusting now," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Sheeza turned to Duncan. "Duncan MacLeod is your true name? You don't use aliases?"

Duncan's lips twisted into a sad smile, his eyes seemingly looking off into the distance. "It's a long story."

Sheeza ducked her head, her eyes capturing his. "I'd like to hear it sometime. That is, if you would be willing to share it."

His face pinked and he looked down at his hands resting on the tabletop. "I may do that Sheeza, I just may."

An exasperated sigh escaped Methos before he thought about it. "Enough, MacLeod, let's get on with it, shall we?" The old man was tired of the banter and annoyed with the woman next to him, even though he'd decided he liked her for more than just for her blood. "Time is short and so is my patience. If you don't do something, I will," he warned. Methos sat forward and looked pointedly at lahoffy before leveling his gaze back on the Scot.

"Oh, now *that* sounded like a threat you ... you ... swine!" lahoffy curled her lip in disgust, her mind instantly taking his words in a direction of her own.

Methos smirked and rolled his eyes, sighing deeply. "Yeah, right ... you wish!"

lahoffy stood up so quickly, her chair scooted a few feet back and thunked against the wall. "Oh, BITE ME NUMBSKULL!" She was livid, her fists were clenched into fists and she wanted nothing more than to punch that smirk off his face.

Duncan cleared his throat, trying to gain the attention of everyone. "Methos, I'm sorry I let out your real name. It wasn't intentional. But all things considered, I think it only fair since we are about to ask a great deal of these two women."

"A great deal?" Sheeza felt a lump grow in her chest, the first time she'd felt any real anxiety since she and lahoffy had sat down at the table. "What do you want of us? I already told you we have nothing. We spent all our money coming on this trip."

"Aha! So I was right! You guys just want ... well I'm not ... ."

"Oh please do be quiet! You couldn't be more wrong if you ... ."

"Methos!"

"Duncan?"

"MacLeod, if you think I'm gonna bite ... ."

"Methos," Duncan growled, "not yet."

"Sheeza, we'd better ... ."

"lahoffy, just wait a minute. I want ... ."

"Oh, you aren't going anywhere. Let Sheeza go, or I *will* bi ... ."

"Methos!"

"Enough!" Sheeza stood up angrily, her chair scooting back to bang against the wall only to rebound hard enough to hit her legs, forcing her to sit down rather abruptly. She blushed and shook her head, thinking she must have looked as foolish as she felt. "Couldn't do that again in a million years if I tried," she mumbled to herself.

"lahoffy, sit down please. I want to hear what it is they want. Then, if you want to go, we'll go. Duncan has been polite, so I'll listen to what he has to say first, OK?" Sheeza looked up at her friend, hoping that she would be cooperative.

Reluctantly, lahoffy pulled her chair back to the table and sat down. She glared at Methos, her lips pooched out in her unhappiness over the situation. "Fine, I'll listen. But this Methos guy is asking for it."

Methos laughed, hearty and full. His fangs glistened in the light and looked sharp. "Damned right I'm asking for it! I'll just bet it tastes as good as it smells too!" This threw him in a giggle fit, tickling himself in his clever wording.

"Methos, I'm warning you!" Duncan's eyes flashed and his nostrils flared as he ground his jaws. His fangs came into view briefly.

Sheeza gasped, glimpsing those pointed teeth for the first time. It was soon followed by a tingling that went from her neck and down her spine, making her suddenly think of vampires and what they do best.

Trying to compose herself, Sheeza closed her eyes. "Please, no more arguing. I can't stand it." She opened her eyes and locked them on the dark haired Scot. "Just tell us what you want. No more talk. Lay it out. Please?"

Duncan glanced at Methos, waiting for his word. When the old man nodded his head, he looked back and forth between lahoffy and Sheeza.

"The curse can be broken only if we can find someone who offers their blood to us of their own free will. We haven't much time. The hunger is building and we soon won't be able to control it. Please, we beg you. Give yourselves to us freely so that we might break this curse and go on with our lives. It's the only way. If we take it by force, we'll remain vampires for the rest of our existence."

The two women sat silently for a few seconds. The men sat there, each looking directly at the woman next to him.

lahoffy eyeballed Methos up and down, appraising him like a side of butcher shop beef.

Sheeza looked into Duncan's eyes and saw them troubled and anguished. Her heart went out to him. "I'll do it... for you. On one condition."

lahoffy's head whipped around and she looked at Sheeza, bewildered. "You'll WHAT?!"

Duncan grinned and took Sheeza's hands into his own. His smile increased when he felt her grip tighten on his.

"So? What about you?" Methos spoke up, hoping he would have the same good fortune with lahoffy.

"What?" lahoffy's head whirled back the other way. She shrank away from Methos, leaning against Sheeza. "What about me?!"

Methos stood up and started pacing. He snarled, his fangs coming into view again. "Always MacLeod. He asks, and she agrees right off the bat. I ask, I get a Hell-Cat. Not fair! Only 5000 years and ... ."

"What's your condition?" Ignoring Methos' ranting for a moment, Duncan looked at Sheeza expectantly.

lahoffy stood up again. "Excuse me? What about 5000 years? I didn't quite catch that."

Methos turned to Duncan. Using all of his vampiric talents, he spoke silently with the hazel-eyed Scot. He nodded his head when Duncan reluctantly nodded his.

"lahoffy? Methos will tell you, but he wants to have a little privacy. Do you mind if we split up, you and he going into the other room? I'd offer, but Sheeza's knee is bleeding and shouldn't be walking around. I think it's best for her that she stay here."

Sheeza looked at Duncan, concerned for lahoffy's safety. Startled, she pushed back from the table and looked at her knee. Sure enough, it was still bleeding. Confused, she glanced quickly at everyone.

"I'm not going anywhere with him! Not until he tells me what ... ."

"Oh just come on!" Methos grabbed lahoffy by the arm and headed for the corridor.

At the last second, lahoffy snatched her Pepsi from the table before it was out of reach. "Jeez, what's your hurry?"


Methos was angry, his head was filled with what sounded and felt like a swarm of bees. His hunger for blood blurred the edges of his vision, his senses were so sharp, it was almost painful. He could smell the blood pumping through lahoffy's veins and he was edging closer and closer to that line between sanity and madness.

"Hey! Slow down, will ya?!" lahoffy was puffing with the effort of keeping up with the man dragging her down the corridor. "Just - slow - DOWN!" Planting her feet, she threw herself backward and pulled against Methos as hard as she could.

If he had been paying attention to her, Methos wouldn't have been caught off guard. Unfortunately, he hadn't been, and he found himself unbalanced and falling.

lahoffy was surprised to find herself falling as well. Her pulling against him made her fall backward onto the floor with a 'whoomp'. She narrowly missed cracking her head against the wall.

Methos had a strong grip on her forearm, and when she yanked away, she took him with her. He turned at the last moment, and as fate would have it, he landed right on top of lahoffy, his body covering hers from the chest all the way down. Letting go of her, he caught himself with his arms, so when he came to rest, he was looking straight into her eyes.

"Well now," he said, his voice silky and full of mischief. "If I had known this was what you wanted all along, I would have been more than willing to accommodate you. But seriously, couldn't you wait till we got to the bed chamber?" Smiling down at her, Methos couldn't help himself. He had to push it just one step further. He winked at her and made kissing noises; topping it off with lascivious brow wagging and a throaty growl.

lahoffy was thrown into a situation she wasn't thrilled with. Yes, she admitted to herself that she was beginning to like him, fangs and all. Yes, she admitted that being that close to him really *did* have a certain YAY!!!! quality. And no, she couldn't let him get away with being a pig.

Drawing her arms up, she pushed against his chest. "Get offa me you cretin!"

"Oh, so I'm a cretin, am I?" In response, Methos drew closer, his lips puckering to kiss her.

The more she pushed on him, the more Methos pushed back. His eyes danced with the fun he was having, but his hunger was working against him. His mind started whispering to him to bite, not to kiss.


Watching their friends exit the kitchen, Sheeza and Duncan found themselves alone. They faced each other and quickly glanced away, suddenly uncomfortable and nervous.

"Sheeza," Duncan began slowly, "please, I ... can't hold out much longer. I wish I could, but I can't. I'm trying." He sighed when she said nothing. "You said you had a condition. What is it? If it's within my power, it's yours."

Sheeza blushed, realizing that though she had said she had a condition, she really didn't want to give voice to it. It was too embarrassing and it presumed too much.

"It's nothing. Never mind. I'm sorry, and it doesn't matter anyway." Her eyes dropped to the table top in shame.

Duncan reached out with his hand and raised her chin so that their eyes met again. "That's where you're wrong my dear. It does matter. I want something from you, and you want something from me. Now what is it? If it's mine to give, it's but for you to name."

"It's stupid. Nevermind. Please." Shaking her head and grinning, Sheeza decided the best plan of action was to change the subject.

"I know you are hungry. I can see it in your eyes. I've read many vampire stories, watched documentaries, and seen probably close to all the movies. So let's do this, ok? I like you, and I want to know you without this hanging over your head, all right?"

Clenching his jaws, Duncan closed his eyes and tossed his head, as though working to control himself. Slowly opening his eyes, he gazed at Sheeza.

"No, I won't. It's just as important to me. I want your willingness, all the way. Sheeza," he whispered, reaching out to caress her cheek, "what would you have of me?"

Sighing and blushing anew, she dropped her eyes to the table once again. "Remove your hair tie. I'd like to see your hair full and natural around your face." Sighing again, she finished quickly. "I told you it was silly."


Methos grimaced, fighting off his thoughts of taking lahoffy there on the floor. Growling ominously, he leaped to his feet and pulled her up so quickly, he actually lifted her off the floor and set her down on her feet.

lahoffy glanced down at her hand and noticed it was empty. With a groan, she looked around and spotted her now-empty soda can lying on the floor against the wall. A dark puddle of Pepsi lay under the can, and in the torchlight, she could see the bubbles pop on the surface.

Angry, she looked up at Methos, her mouth twisted and mean. "ANIMAL! You did it again! Why, I oughta ... ." Her fist began its windup, and she started to turn to add more weight to her throw. Everything happened so fast; lahoffy didn't know what hit her.

Methos pulled the little spitfire into his embrace and brought his lips down over hers, effectively quieting her down. Scooping her up into his arms, the old man turned and continued down the hall toward the bedroom and a certain four-poster canopied bed. The entire journey, he kept his lips pressed against hers, keeping her thoroughly occupied.


Methos stopped when he reached the bed. Bending down, he gently placed lahoffy upon it, following her to end up lying by her side. When he had them both situated, he broke the spell he'd cast, and turned away.

lahoffy laid there, her eyes closed and her mouth still pursed.

"Breathe," Methos said quietly, with a twitch of his fingers.

With a little jerk, she opened her eyes and gasped for breath. In a rush, lahoffy felt like she was falling, falling down into darkness. She found she wanted nothing more than to jump right back in where she had been left off. Such is the magic of vampires.

Hardly in control of her actions, she reached for Methos.

"No," he whispered. "I'll not allow it. Not this way."

lahoffy shut her eyes tight. Breathing in deeply through her nose, her head cleared a bit. "You'll not allow it? But I thought this was what you wanted," she replied, again reaching for him.

Faster than the human eye could track him, Methos was off the bed and pacing back and forth at the foot of it. He placed his hands behind his back and started muttering under his breath. Every few steps or so, he shook his head wildly and blinked his eyes rapidly. He snarled under his breath each time he turned to head back the other way.

lahoffy watched him for a while as she gradually regained her full senses.

"Well, what this you were saying about 5000 years?"

He stopped, dead in his tracks. "You really want to know?"

"Yeah, I really do. I can't explain it so don't ask me why, but I think you are probably the biggest jerk on the face of this planet. But there is something else, and I'll be damned if I can deny it, or what I feel."

His eyes widened and Methos looked at her, his eyes narrowed. "Tell me, what *do* you feel?"

"I said I can't explain it you idiot! What did I just say?"

"No, you said not to ask why about wanting to know, not ... ."

"Oh for Pete's sake!"

"You like me don't you?!"

Silence. "The 5000 years. What did you mean?"

Sighing. "That's how old I am."

A gasp. "You're what?!"

"Yeah. Now how do you feel?"

Sighing. "Suddenly very young, and I think I'm falling for *the* most annoying man on the face of the planet."

His face brightened. "Does this mean ... .?"

Silence. A slow nod came from lahoffy, her eyes on his as her head bobbed up and down. Turning to face the wall, she pulled down the collar of her shirt and bared her neck.


A warm delighted laugh erupted from the Highlander. "Is *that* all?"

One large, furry-knuckled hand came up and deftly removed the hair tie, his locks immediately bouncing freely, framing his handsome face. Using both hands, he ran his fingers through his hair to separate the locks and bring them to their fullest.

Sheeza gasped softly. Those waves and dark curls brought her attention to the fact that he was somewhat unshaven. She wasn't sure why she hadn't noticed that before, but she sure did now! His jaw was covered with stubble and she wished she had the courage to reach out and test how soft it was.

"How's that? Is this better?" Duncan smiled warmly, taking care to keep his fangs out of sight. His dark eyes twinkled, the skin around them crinkling. It had amused him to observe her tracking his every movement, scrutinizing what seemed every inch of him.

***Of all the things in all the world, why would she pick something like letting my hair down as her condition to all but bleed her to death? Why not money? I just don't get it. I wonder if there will be a condition to this condition? There has to be! This is too easy!*** Duncan had no choice but to wait and see.

Sheeza couldn't help but gape at the difference in Duncan's appearance. Realizing he had asked her a question, her mouth snapped closed abruptly and she silently nodded her head. A slow grin transformed her lips as her eyes traveled from his hair to his face and back again.

"I um, think we should do this while I've got the courage Duncan. I'm afraid, but I won't back out. Not now."

***Not now?***

The Highlander looked around and saw only snack racks, tables and chairs and reach-in coolers banking a microwave/service counter. A look of dismay came over him.

"But Sheeza, not here. There isn't any ... ."

"I know!" Sheeza brightened as an idea came to her. "I'll bet you haven't been to the ladies room, but there is a really nice sofa in there. I saw it earlier when I ... we could go there. What do you say?"

Duncan's eyes looked left, then right. "There is a couch in the ladies room? What for?"

Sheeza laughed. "Impromptu conversation? You know, I've wondered that myself. Haven't you ever been in a ladies room?"

This time, it was his turn to laugh. "No, can't say that I have. I've done a great many things in my life, and gone a great many places. But I don't think that is one place I've visited yet."

Sheeza stood up and grinned down at him. "Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't there? Shall we?"

Duncan stood up and offered his arm to Sheeza. She took his hand instead, thrilled when she felt him thread his fingers through hers. Together, they walked down another hallway and entered the bathroom. There, to the left of the doorway, sat a large, smoky gray overstuffed sofa with pillows propped up against the arms.

"Will this do Duncan?"

"Aye, I think it will. Would you like to sit down?"

When both of them were seated, Sheeza turned and faced Duncan.

"Will it hurt?" Sheeza's face clearly showed her concern.

"I suppose it will, but not for long I hope."

"You'll be careful, won't you?"

Duncan nodded his head, his eyes boring into hers. He reached up and caressed her cheek, his fingers tracing her lips. Slowly, he came closer and closer. Dropping his gaze to her lips, he moved in.

His lips touched hers in a kiss so soft and delicate, Sheeza wondered if that was what it was like to be kissed by an angel, for that was surely what he looked like in her eyes. Feeling her arms come up on their own to encircle his shoulders, he pulled her toward him, turning her head to the side.

Sheeza stiffened, fear flashing in her like a child flinching when it's mother is about to put alcohol on a boo-boo.


Methos looked down at lahoffy, lying there willingly offering herself to him. In the blink of an eye, he was once again beside her.

Pulling her into his arms, one supporting her head and shoulders and one around her waist, he looked into her eyes.

"Are you sure? No, are you *really* sure?"

An exasperated sigh escaped from her lips. "First you snatch me. Then you scare me. You ruin not one, but two perfectly good Pepsis. You pick fights with me. You tell me you're older than Methusalah. Methusalah? Any relation?" lahoffy smirked when she saw Methos frown. "You kiss me. I've agrred to help you, and *now* you ask me if I'm ready? Just shut up and bi... ."

Methos ended her tirade by kissing her again, this time without magic. Moving past her lips, his tongue met hers and invited it to dance.

Pulling lahoffy close to him in a tight embrace, he turned her head a bit so that he wasn't craning his neck so far. All too quickly, his passion for her grew as his mind reached out to hers in a psychic connection.

lahoffy threw her arms around Methos, pulling him impossibly closer to her. Her mind was dizzy and filled with pictures, pictures of places and people she had never seen. She was unaware that her neck had been pierced by his sharp fangs and at that very moment, she was giving him what he most needed, her willing blood.

(flash)

Horses, tents, sand and leafless, withered bushes. Three men, laughing heartily around a roaring campfire. Their faces, blackened with ash in abtract designs ... creepy, yet there is something about them. The large one, jovial in countenance, offers up a haunch of meat. Trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, a thin man with a bundle of sticks tied to his back.

(flash)

A comely mulatto woman in a hand-made dress, her beauty shining like a beacon in the darkness. Her eyes filled with love and longing, her hand stretched out, beckoning someone to come to her. Someone for whom she held a great deal of love and respect. An image of Methos, tousled hair and muttonchops reflecting in the mirror standing behind her.

(flash)

A woman with straight, long, dark hair; round, dark eyes, angular features and long dirty fingernails holding out a bowl of water. She smiles, her arm outstretched, beckoning. In her eyes, the tiny reflection of a man ... hair unkempt ... his face ... half blue.

(flash)

lahoffy, long, light-brown hair flowing past her shoulders in a darkened room. Angry, she searches the dark for someone or something on which she can vent. Behind her is the very bed she is now lying on.

(flash)

Inside, lahoffy can feel something building, yet not building. Pulsing might be a better word, she thinks. She can hear the pounding of two sets of drums, each one in a different rhythm. But as she listens, she hears the two slowly and inexorably begin pounding as one. Slowly she discovers it is the beating of his and her hearts.

Never before in her life had she ever felt such fulfillment, such wonder. She hoped it would never end.


Duncan pulled away and whispered into her ear. "Are you really all right with this?"

Sheeza hesitated before slowly nodding her head. She was afraid to speak. She was certain that if she did, she would tell him that she had changed her mind.

Instead, she silently spoke to him. ***I'm all right Duncan, just afraid. Please, just bite me and get it over with. Don't prolong it, OK? I just want this over quickly.***

He moved to look her in the eye. Nodding his assent upon hearing her unspoken words, he leaned in and kissed her again. Gazing upon Sheeza, he solemnly nodded his head, telling her he was ready to begin. Closing his eyes a moment, he re-opened them and they were ice-blue ringed with white. He opened his mouth and bared his fangs at her. With a great hiss, he fell upon her.

Duncan's fangs plunged through her skin with the ease of a hot knife through soft butter. The first freshet of blood flooded his mouth. Alternately excited and repulsed, Duncan suckled Sheeza's neck, allowing her blood to flow naturally. He desperately wanted to take it from her, but was afraid to harm the woman in his arms in any way. Settling down, he lapped up her blood as it dribbled through the holes he had made. He was disgusted to find he actually liked the taste of it. Silently, he prayed that this was only temporary.

Sheeza hardly felt his fangs slicing into her flesh. In her mind, she still saw his eyes. Those wild eyes against his olive skin was captivating to say the least. Unaware, a tiny smile floated on her lips as she felt the thrill of his lips against her neck.


Methos sensed a change in Lahoffy and in himself. She was growing weaker in his arms. Using his tongue, he probed his fang teeth. Sure enough, they were gone! It had worked!

Releasing his hold on her neck, albeit reluctantly, Methos grinned sat up.

lahoffy gazed up at him with glazed eyes. "Is it over?"

Elated and beyond happy, Methos smiled, his eyes twinkling in the gloom. He shook his head and kissed the tip of her nose. "Nope. I think this just might be the beginning of a wonderful friendship, don't you?"

lahoffy looked down and considered it a moment before she grabbed his wrist and whispered just one word. "Yep!~"


When the blood coming from Sheeza's neck slowed, Duncan used the tip of his fangs to freshen the wound. He was cautious and paid close attention to her, making sure she was all right in his arms. The last thing he wanted to do was to put this woman in mortal peril.

In her head, she could hear her heart beating as well as his, which had speeded up to match hers. Together, they marched, the two pounding as one. Her mind was dark, but it was filled with a well of emotions and feelings with thoughts springing up in her head.

Sheeza gasped, confused by things she saw and felt that didn't make sense. Even so, she wanted it to go on forever!

(flash)

***Debra, I cannae marry ye, not with Robert's ghost haunting me.*** Her red hair hung down around her shoulders in a cascade of curls. Her blue eyes were filled with such unbearable sadness. Her heart, broken forever.

(flash)

***WHERE DO I COME FROM?!?!?!*** Long hair, unkempt and framing his face, a younger Duncan MacLeod running uphill, screaming after two figures galloping away on horseback. His pain, white-hot and heavy in his heart, spilled out in anguish.

***I AM DUNCAN MACLEOD ... OF THE CLAN MACLEOD!*** Tears stream down his face as he gives up in defeat.

(flash)

***Are ye a witch?*** A young boy, full of innocence and wonder, looking into the eyes of a woman he was destined to meet again in another life. One he would know as a man.

(flash)

***I've killed so many... young, old... with their mothers watching... *** Angst filled heart, defeated look upon his face, another Duncan bears the brunt of what he'd done when he was someone else ... not the man he was when feeling the burden of his past.

(flash)

"Wow," Sheeza whispered, unaware she had spoken at all. Those things she had been feeling, she knew must have come from Duncan, and though they answered some questions, many more sprang up in their place. One thing for certain, she knew this Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod to be a good man, solid and courageous.

"Sheeza?"

Sheeza didn't move, her head lolled back against the sofa. Aghostly smile was all that showed she was still awake.

"Sheeza?"

"MMMM?"

"What did you say?"

As if in a fog, Sheeza spoke, the smile not fading for a second. "I said 'Wow,' Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Mmmmm... ," she moaned softly, stirring a bit and opening her eyes. "Is it over?"

Duncan wiped at his mouth, noticing a bit of blood came off on his fingers. His tongue felt along his teeth and he made a second pass before he noticed that the fang teeth were gone!

"Sheeza! It worked!"

"It did? Really? I'm so glad for you Duncan." She smiled, happy she was able to help him.

It had been a very long time since he had felt this much joy. Duncan just wanted to jump up and shout it out to the world! Instead, he grabbed Sheeza, pulling her off the sofa and danced her around the room, sharing with her his happiness at being free of the curse that had brought them together.

When they broke apart, he saw a dribble of blood running down her neck. Quickly, he crossed the room and snatched tissues from a box on the counter. He pressed them to the wound and held them there as he put his arm around her.

"I don't know how I can ever thank you for this Sheeza. I couldn't even begin to try. I owe you."

Looking deep into his eyes, Sheeza lost herself for a moment, before she smiled and averted hers. She blushed a beautiful rose pink.

Duncan grinned. He knew she had something on her mind. "What? What is it?"

Her blushed deepened to crimson. Swallowing hard, Sheeza shook her head. "I can't."

"You will."

Chuckling while she spoke, Sheeza shook her head. "Oh ho ho, n,o I can't!"

Pulling the tissue away, he saw the bleeding had stopped. Dropping it behind the sofa, Duncan used his free hand to turn her back to face him. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"I mean it. Whatever it is, name it."

Sheeza looked at him and smiled tentatively. She licked her lower lip and reached up with one hand. She stopped in mid-air and looked at him. Gaining some confidence, she reached up and pulled on his tie. "Dance with me some more."

Duncan grinned happily, for this was something he could do.


Hours later, or so it seemed, the two couples reunited back in the kitchen. The ladies ran over to the coolers to grab some sodas while the men sat back down at the table. Each group was whispering animatedly and gesturing toward the other group. Everyone was smiling and happy.

Returning to the table, lahoffy handed Methos a beer while Sheeza handed Duncan a bottle of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Both men looked up surprised and said simultaneously, "How did you know?" Together, they looked at each other, then back at the women and laughed heartily.

They all laughed when the women replied simultaneously, "We just knew."

Morning dawned and the four were still talking around that little table down in the kitchen. lahoffy and Methos still bickered, albeit good naturedly. Sheeza and Duncan had quiet smiles for each other, and he told her stories of his many travels though the centuries.

They all turned as one when a fat, balding security guard came huffing and puffing into view. He held a pistol on them in one fat, trembling hand. When he had concluded that he wasn't in danger, he gruffly told the foursome they had to get out immediately, or buy another ticket for the day.

Methos was rude, Duncan apologetic, even offering to buy tickets even though they were leaving.

As they neared the doors to the grand entrance, the four walked out into the sun arm in arm. All four faces turned up into the golden morning rays and each was thankful in their own way.

The two immortals had found allies, and the two women found they never had to go home to their nobody-nothing lives again for in their selfless offering of themselves, they had gained the respect and friendship of these men who wanted to whisk them away and give them the love and the lives they felt they deserved ... at a place they called, the CDC Compound?

The End.
Sheeza
March 2, 2002

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St. Patrick's Day Madness

An outraged howl echoed across the compound, followed by a colorful string of various languages. Some dead, some not quite so dead.

MacNair tore her gaze from the two immortals she was "supervising" as they planted the first flowers of spring and glanced towards the house. "What was that?"

Duncan chuckled. "Don't you know what day it is?"

"Sunday."

"The date?"

"Um . . . March 17th."

"And?" Connor prompted.

MacNair puzzled for a second. "OH! St. Patrick's Day!"

"And what's one tradition that usually occurs on this day?"

She grinned wikkedly. "You get to pinch someone if they're not wearing green." Her face fell. "No fair. You've both got green on."

Duncan sighed patiently. "The other tradition, guaranteed to irritate a certain ancient immortal."

Light dawned in her eyes. "Ah, the tinting of the beer green."

"Bingo," replied Connor.

Sharz chimed in from her seat next to MacNair's: "I thought we agreed after last year's hysterics not to do that to poor Methos again?"

Lynnann spoke up."WE did, but there's several newcomers here that don't know that. I tried to warn them."

Sharz looked around, counting heads. "Where's lahoffy? I'm surprised she's not here watching the boys work."

Connor laughed merrily. "Who do you think is behind that howling? Ever since the Valentine's Day incident, she's been looking for a chance at revenge on Methos."

A chorus of feminine squeals sounded just then, followed by pounding footsteps, an outraged male voice, and slamming doors.

"Run!" shouted lahoffy as she came barreling out the door, closely followed by Sheeza, hayden, and pacem.

The girls scampered across the courtyard, seeking shelter behind the comparative safety of the two Highlanders.

"Hide us! He's going to kill us!" pleaded hayden as she ducked behind Duncan's broad back.

Sheeza squeezed in beside her. "I didn't think he'd get so mad!"

Pacem scurried behind Connor. "We were just holding up tradition!" She paused, blinking. "Ooo . . . nice jeans."

"Lahoffy, if you want to get even with Methos--that's one thing. Involving innocents in your schemes--" Connor began lecturing.

"Innocents? HA! You should have seen how eager they all were! Besides, I only suggested the idea!"

Sheeza poked her head around Duncan's shoulder. "Suggested? You handed us the bottle of food coloring!"

Lahoffy sighed, crossing her arms and bracing herself as Methos came stomping out of the house.

Sheeza, hayden and pacem squeaked in alarm and tried making themselves even smaller behind the two immortals.

Methos reached the group, his expression morose as he collapsed into a vacant lawn chair and stared forlornly at the mug of green beer he held. "I hate this holiday," he groused. "Green beer? It's a sacrilege."

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"People running around pretending to be Irish, wearing those bloody "Kiss me, I'm Irish" buttons, pinching you black and blue if you're not wearing green--all bloody annoying if you ask me. But the worst thing? GREEN beer!" He fell silent, still staring at his beer. Finally he sighed and muttered under his breath. "All because of a stupid, bloody accident."

"I'm sorry. What was that?" Duncan asked.

Methos sighed heavily again, closing his eyes. "An accident. Happened back during Prohibition. While I was brewing beer for Capone."

Everyone perked up. A story about the old guy's past? This would be worth any amount of punishment he might inflict later.

"Brewing beer for Capone? Al Capone?" asked Connor.

"Yes, that Al Capone. I was making my own beer when he found out about my talents and recruited me. It seemed like a great way to make money at the time. Anyway, one Saint Patrick's Day, I had just finished making up a batch and was waiting on him to show up to collect it when a certain . . . uh. . . female acquaintance of mine got . . . um . . . frisky with food stuffs. Next thing I know, she spilled an entire bottle of green food coloring into it." Again he sighed heavily. "Capone showed up at that moment, saw the beer and loved the idea of celebrating St. Patrick's Day with green beer. The rest is history."

Duncan looked at him disbelievingly. "You mean, just because you got randy with someone, that's why we have green beer?"

Methos shrugged. "What can I say? She was rather talented, even if she was a klutz." He took a long pull off his beer. "Do you think I like knowing I'm responsible for the mistreatment of beer every year?"

The entire group dissolved into merry whoops of laughter, collapsing onto each other, as they struggled to breathe.

"Sure, laugh it up now. Easter's coming, and I know where you keep the chocolate bunnies," he muttered.

~Finis~

lahoffyCDC
March 17, 2002

Note: This is wildly historically inaccurate, I'm sure. I have no idea when the first incident of tinting beer green actually happened. Nor do I know how it happened, and I'm not one to go do research for a fluffy little piece like this. *g* And who's to say that in the HL universe, this isn't exactly how it happened? *bg* Hope you enjoy it anyway.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day everyone.

Top



Prelude to The Threesome

Archivist note: Some wild hen posted a list of the pros and cons of having a threesome on the CDC board. (lahoffy looks like she could be blamed.) There were some giggles about it and then silence. But only for a short time before hayden, The Mayhem Maker started this:

If there are 10 CDCers and 4 immortals, you have 14 people. So that makes 196 combinations of 3?

Hayden *scratching her head*--No, you have to do something else here???

14 x 14 -13 is that right?

OK, 183 combinations of three.

Now, if you add in CDC friends (and you better!)

5 friends is what you guys usually say...

19 x 19 -18 = 343 combinations and 4 tired but happy immortals.

5 friends ??? is that right now???

hayden, (yes, I'm putting myself first--I'm doing the math *WWG*), xxxxx, xxxxxx, xxxx, and xxxxxxxxxx????

Archivist note: Names blocked to protect the guilt--er, the innocent...

Is that right?? (My apologies if I left someone out --I'm a bit flustered for some reason--Lahoffy, stop laughing! You started this)

Wait a minute now... we have pacem and xxxxx stopping by these days?

OK

17 x 17 - 16 = 272 and very, very tired immortals?

Should I include xxxxxxxxx in this?

Oh, now do you think the ROG and RYG are going to be happy with just threesomes???

Hush, Methos, you do your own math. Lahoffy only said three!

Hayden, who now has sank to the very depths of the gutter thanks to lahoffy

The Threesomes

The Threesomes

hayden

Just something to get the party started. Blame MacNair and lahoffy. This started haunting me after Thursday's conversation down below.


lynnann shouted, "Richie, you're up for the next threesome."

"Al-right!" the young immortal jumped to attention obviously enjoying this new game of the girl's.

lynnann escorted him into the master suite followed closely behind by MacNair and lahoffy; where he found the half nekkid MacLeods reclining in the king size bed.

"Ohh noo! NO WAY !!!"

"You agreed to play, Rich." MacNair beamed.

"But I never thought... ."

"Thought what, Rich???" a grinning lahoffy with a slightly tarnished halo replied innocently.

Rich started for the door only to be intercepted by the threesome of chuckling CDCers blocking the door. "Un-uh, you're staying," they exclaimed as they retreated to the hallway blocking his only means of escape.

CAH-LUNK the lock sounded as the girls locked him in with the leering Highlanders.

The temperature in the room suddenly started to rapidly climb and Richie's face became as red as the shirt he wore. "Ahh, you guys aren't seriously thinking about... are you?"

Devilment filled Connor's eyes as he patted the bed between the Highlanders. "Come here, pup," he commanded.

Richie rapidly lost all sign of composure as he checked the room for an escape route.

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"Relax, Rich, and have a seat. The game is coming on." Duncan, grinning, replied as he turned on the set to the Jazz game.

"Boy, you guys had me going there for a while." Richie relaxed and joined the men on the bed.

"Who was kidding?" Connor leaned closer to the young man.

"MAC!!! Help !!!!"

"Connor, stop picking on him! Relax, Rich, and grab the munchies will you."

"Relax, Pup!" Connor exclaimed, "It could be worse."

"What do you mean, worse?"

"Methos could be here."

"I don't get it. What does the old guy have to do with this being worse?"

"What? Did you sleep during Greek and Roman history?"

The full implications of that remark suddenly hit the young man as he bit down on his chip. Eyes popped and his face drained of color.

"That's combination 1517 isn't it, Connor?" Duncan smirked

"I do believe it is, Duncan"


lynnannCDC

Not much of a party if the guys are gonna watch a game...


hayden

Ahh but what are the girls doing? ~~~~~~~

hayden, Sharz, and Sheeza came around the corner to find MacNair, lynnann, and lahoffy with their ears glued to the door.

"What are they doing in there?" inquired lahoffy

"A better question yet is what are all of you doing listening at the bedroom door?" replied Sheeza. "Who's in there anyway?"

"Duncan, Connor, and Richie," chorused MacNair and lahoffy.

"What are they doing?" asked Sharz.

"It was their turn for a threesome," replied lynnann.

"Huh, really????"

The girls looked at each other and suddenly there were 6 pairs of ears glued to the door.


MacNairCDC

:: miscellany heard through the door ::

"Oh! OH! OH, come ON!"

"Score! Score!"

"Up! UP! Get it up!"

"NOW! Go! Go-go-go-go!"

(Very loud cheering and yelling.)

"YES! O my God, YES!"

"Watch it with the hands, there!"

"Why is it wet on my side of the bed?"

"Don't look at me, I didn't do anything!"

"Will you watch where you're putting things?"

"Well, quit wiggling around so much and this wouldn't happen!"

"I can't help it. It's exciting!"


hayden

Six sets of eyes all turned to stare at each other. "Did you hear that!!!" Mouths dropped open.

"LADDER!!!!!" yelled hayden, as she turned and ran through the halls.

"Follow her!!!!" exclaimed MacNair

Hayden flew past Janne and Methos as they walked across the yard, grabbed her ladder, and turned the corner of the house.

Janne grabbed lynnann as hayden's posse turned the corner.

"What's going on? Is there a fire? Is k'lynn hanging from the chandelier? What?" Janne demanded.

"MacLeods ... Rich ... bedroom ... threesome ... oh my... ." lynnann gasped before she took off to follow the troops.

"WHAT! Really?" inquired Methos. A smirk and devilish gleam formed in his eyes. "This I've got to see!"


lahoffyCDC

The ladder was in place, but a new problem arose. Who was going up the ladder to check the situation out?

"We could toss a coin," said MacNair.

"MY ladder!" said hayden vehemently, "I should go up."

"Too many here to toss a coin, we could draw straws," said Sharz.

"MY ladder!" hayden repeated.

"We don't have any straws," lahoffy pointed out.

"MY ladder!" hayden repeated once again, wondering why no one seemed to be listening to her.

Methos decided it was time to put an end to the discussion. "I'll go up. Wouldn't want any of you ladies to hurt yourself, now would we?" He began climbing the ladder.

"But... but... it's MY ladder," hayden whimpered.


MacNairCDC

Methos had spent some times on ladders before. In the war, painting a house or two, storming a castle ... he knew how to get up one quickly and without a sound. He just ... chose not to hurry this time. He crept up at an alarmingly slow pace and smirked at the frantically waving shadows on the ground below him, urging him to hurry! It was a silent pantomime of "We're going to murder you if you don't get the lead out!" that he could easily read in the wild gestures of their arms!

Slowly creeping ... carefully sneaking ... Methos arrived at the window ledge and what to his wondering eyes should appear?

Three boisterous immortals beginning to cheer!

The game was tied up and so were the Scots,

reaching for popcorn and two soda pops!

Richie was sprawled at the foot of the bed,

yelling at the screen with his face full of dread!

The floor was littered with wrappers and trappings;

Methos knew in a heartbeat that there'd been no napping!

The popcorn went flying when John Stockton swept down the floor,

for both Highlanders sat forward and gave a great roar!

They yelled at the screen as the Jazz went to score --

completely unaware that they'd bounced Rich onto the floor!

He shoots! He scores! The MacLeods were high-fiving!

Methos wondered, perhaps, if Rich wasn't crying?

Then he froze on his perch and he felt his heart dive ...

for suddenly Methos realized his ladder had started to SLIDE!


lynnannCDC

~~~~~~~interlude~~~~~~

The tale is amusing

and talk about timing

but, lahoffy, my dear,

MacNair has been rhyming!

Can you save poor Methos?

He is starting to frown!

Or is his goose cooked

when he does fall down?

Prithee tell me soon

this tale you do weave.

How will it end

and will I believe?


lahoffyCDC

Methos glanced frantically down and saw the girls had grabbed hold of the ladder and were rocking it back and forth. Obviously, they hadn't been kidding with the murderous pantomime.

He grabbed hold of the ledge just as the ladder tipped to the side, clinging desperately to the few scant inches that were all that stood between him and a highly painful landing.

"Connor! Duncan! Rich! Somebody! Anybody!" he shouted frantically.

No response.

He tightened the grip of one hand, releasing the other to pound on the window. "Open the bloody window!" he yelled.

The window slid up and Rich's face peered down at him, a puzzled look on it.

"Hey, Methos, what'cha doing?"

Methos stared aghast at the youngster. "I'm playing Spiderman."

"Oh, OK. Have fun." Richie started to close the window again.

"Richie Ryan, you close that window and I swear I'll hide all the Doritos from you at the next party!"

"Yeah? Not in a real good position to make threats, now are you?"

Methos narrowed his eyes, glaring as he counted to ten, and then twenty in several languages. "Would you just help me in, please?"

Richie reached out a hand, grabbing the ROG's wrist and hauled him inside. "What were you doing out there anyway?"

From the window drifted a chorus of disappointed voices and a few veiled threats. Methos leaned out, smiled, waved and slammed the window closed.

"Another lesson learned. Never get on a ladder around the ladies."

"Unless you're only wearing an apron" called out Duncan from his spot on the bed.

~finis~
April 6, 2002

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